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I appreciate the comments and likes so far this week! Here's another chapter as a thank you! I'll post again on Sunday before getting to a twice-per-week schedule until the complete work is posted. Chapter 9: MY BODY AND emotions collided, and I fell asleep on the journey home. I didn’t wake up until I felt Erica carrying me up the steps. “Oh, you’re awake!” She said to me, giving me a squeeze meant to comfort me. “I didn’t even realize I’d gone to sleep…” “I think you’re rightfully upset about your body,” she reassured me. “I can’t imagine how that would feel to happen to me.” I just nodded, “I don’t know what is going on?” I complained. “It’s like all of a sudden, my brain and my nervous system aren’t communicating right with my bowels?” “Like I said, it does happen here…” “I know you said that,” I sighed and appreciated when she sat me down upstairs. “We’re home now. Do you want to go ahead and switch to a Pull-Up?” I felt my mood fall back to the floor, remembering what I wore. “I want to… I just don’t know if it’s a good idea?” “I’ll help you out of it if you want to use the potty?” “I should be able to take it off myself, right?” “Probably, but to be safe, get my attention?” I felt even more helpless then but nodded, “Okay.” “Do you want to take some time for yourself right now? Take a nap, maybe?” “I just took one of those, apparently,” I said, laughing nervously. “It’s okay to take another one?” I shrugged, “I’m good, I think. I might just get on the tablet Emerson gave me and do some research?” “Fair enough,” she told me. “Let me know if you need anything. Maybe we’ll have dinner and watch something later?” “Sounds good,” I told her. To my relief, I was able to catch her attention a while later when I felt the need to go to the bathroom. It was a combination of urine and loose stool, but at least it had gone into the toilet and not my panties. “Diaper...?” I was so confused about what was happening to me, but we both agreed to give a Pull-Up another try then. My research was frustrating because it mainly verified what she told me! The only actual research on fixing the issue was over twenty years old and involved some obscure treatments from a company called SafeFoods. The results weren’t overly optimistic either! Erica brought me a sippy cup of juice she called Plapple juice midway through the afternoon. It tasted really good and was a weird cross of apple and pineapple that I could taste. Apparently, it was an actual fruit here, though! I made another stop on the potty before dinner and discussed some ideas with her about the causes of the issue. She mentioned that exchange groups got screened before they left to come here and after they returned to their dimensions to try and identify the cause. It sounded like most of them tended to recover back home, so I had hope that, at worst, I’d be wearing protection for a few months and retraining back home. As she placed my dinner on the table, she gave me an odd look before digging through the fridge. I made a face as she gave me a cup of milk. “No water?” I asked her. “Katie, you’ve expelled quite a bit of water and not hydrated that much this afternoon. Milk is better for hydration?” “Maybe an electrolyte drink instead?” I suggested as I ate a piece of the grilled cheese sandwich she’d prepared with the AmeniTea. “I don’t have any right now; I guess I should pick some up at the store at some point, though. Without that, though, the milk is probably our best bet?” I sighed, taking a sip. ‘It really is tasty,’ I admitted. “I guess this works for now.” As I ate the sandwich, I kept coming back to the milk. “So what do you think so far?” she asked me. “About?” “This world?” I sighed, “It’s amazing on one level, but it's terrifying to see my body have so many sudden problems! Back home, we’d probably be admitting me into the hospital to determine if I was dealing with organ failure or something, but you all think it’s just normal?” She nodded, “Sorry, it pretty much is…? Didn’t you know some of the stories before you came?” I blushed, “Some of them.” “And you still came?” I shrugged, “It seemed like an adventure…?” “Was that it?” I shook my head, “I guess not, honestly, I don’t feel like my life is going much anywhere forward right now, back home. My brother has five kids and the perfect family; I’ve yet to find anyone to settle down with.” “You’ve looked?” I gave her another shrug, “Yeah, some? I don’t know… Maybe part of me still doesn’t want to be that much of an adult?” I snorted at that, “Not that I feel like much of one at all right now!” She smiled at me, “I get that. Mom has been on my case for years to settle down!” I held my cup of milk to her, “Cheers to still being the kids!” She laughed as we clinked my cup to her glass, and I drained the rest of the milk. By the end of the meal I’d also managed a cup of water into my system. I gave an uncontrolled burp afterward, “Excuse me,” I said, embarrassed. She laughed, “Don’t worry about it!” She helped me down from the chair, and I climbed the mountain of stairs to go to the bathroom. When I returned downstairs, she was done and patted the couch beside her, “How about another movie?” When I was settled, she showed me how to navigate the choices. I didn’t want to watch another rom-com; nothing else sounded good before I stumbled on a documentary category. One of the first ones up was about nanites! “Ooh, that looks interesting?” “You are such a nerd?” She kidded me. I shrugged, “It’s always served me well,” I told her. “It works for me. I think this is the one that Professor Westerfield was involved in…” she added. “That name sounds familiar,” I said. “She’s pretty much the genius that helped advance AI and nanite programming here. Her husband Fred is mostly retired now but is a great surgeon too.” “Oh, I met her briefly at the welcome luncheon. She’s somehow connected to one of the kids in our group we brought.” “That’s interesting,” she said. “Why don’t you start it, and I’ll get some hot chocolate made?” My mouth watered at that, so I nodded and eagerly awaited her return. By the time I finished the hot chocolate, I felt drowsy. Still, the nanite information was so intriguing that I didn’t fall asleep. I learned a lot about the history of their development, and even though the film didn’t dwell on too technical descriptions, I learned some ideas to improve my developments back home! When the film ended, I decided it was time to call it a night. “I’ll help you get into your night protection,” Erica said. “Want a lift?” She asked me as I sat on the couch, trying to gird myself for the hop off it. I shrugged, “Sure? It’s not like it’s the most embarrassing thing today!” She laughed, “Sorry, I know it’s been a hard day. Has to beat climbing these stairs, though? Looks like you’re practically scaling a mountain every time you do it.” “Kind of feels like it, too,” I admitted. Something about being close to her had previously felt unnerving, but her hold comforted me tonight. The hand that briefly rubbed my back was soothing. She took the dry Pull-Up from me as I sat on the potty seat. I was grateful to have made it to the bathroom every time since we’d returned! ‘Just a fluke,’ I told myself. I washed my face off, brushed my teeth, headed to my… room, and found Erica in the rocking chair. “Done?” She asked. I shrugged, “I guess?” “Let’s get you ready then,” she told me. She lifted me off the floor and placed me on the changing table. “I know this has got to be embarrassing, but I’m kind of glad to do this on this table now instead of your old bed.” I blushed, “Sorry, I wish you weren’t doing it at all.” She poked my nose lightly, “Don’t worry about it! I don’t mind!” I sat still as she diapered me and then pulled out a different sleeper for me to wear for the night. “You were complaining about that bed this morning?” She asked. I sighed, “It’s definitely not great.” “Do you want to try the crib instead?” “I hate the idea of being trapped inside of it?” “I guess I understand that. Let me know if you change your mind at some point?” “Will do,” I told her. She gently sat me on the floor, and I waddled my way over to the toddler bed. Lying down in it, I knew my back would be sore again in the morning. She pulled the covers up over me. “I hope you feel better tomorrow. Get some rest,” she told me. “Thanks, Erica. I really appreciate your kindness in helping me as a total stranger.” “You’re welcome, Katie, but remember, you’re no longer a stranger!” She handed me Honey from a corner of the bed, “Night!” I’d been out by the time she sat me in bed the night before, so I hadn’t been awake to note the nightlight gently shining a stream of stars on the ceiling. It was comforting not to have the room completely dark, but also more than a little bit threatening to see the cage of a crib just feet away from me… ready to easily contain my body! I DOSED OFF and slept peacefully for a long while before noticing something was wrong. Very wrong. I sat up, winced, and swore, “Shit, not again!!!” The nightlight was no longer shining stars in the room, but I could see it was still illuminating a little of the area around where it was plugged in. I sat up and wanted to cry! Not only had I apparently wet the bed in my sleep, but I’d also pooped my pants, and it was apparently too much for the diaper because my pajamas and bed were soaked too! I scooted to the end of the bed where the rail was open and felt my back crack from the horrible mattress. I felt a muscle pull in agony then, too, and cried out, “Oww!” I heard a sleepy voice, “Katie, are you okay?” the door opened. She saw me sitting up and pressed a button that brought the lights up halfway. “Oh no, sweetie, what happened?” “I’m losing my mind!” I told her. “What’s happening to me?!?” “I don’t know, but we’ll try and figure it out together. Let’s see what we’re looking at here,” Erica said, coming closer. She stood still briefly before saying, “Okay, let’s start with the important thing, you.” I watched her eyes scan things momentarily before she walked to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me, and carried me to the tub. “Your poor tummy,” she said as she helped me strip things off one at a time. Once I was down to just the diaper, it was apparent to me, at least, what must have happened. The diaper seemed to have come loose a bit on one side, and then the poop… it wasn’t really poop so much as liquid! “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had taken a laxative or had an enema,” she said quietly as she pulled the diaper away from my skin, trying to keep the filth inside. “I’ve gone so many times, I don’t even know how there was still something in my colon!” I complained. “I don’t either, Katie. Let me turn this on. We’ll spray you off, and then, hopefully, we’ll be able to get you back to bed.” It was a mortifying experience, but fifteen minutes later, the lights were entirely on, and she examined the bed I’d been sleeping in. “The mattress is waterproof, but this bedding will have to get washed.” “Oh no, Honey,” I said sadly. My poor childhood friend was a victim, too! “Don’t worry,” Erica told me, “We’ll get her cleaned up for you…” “Please,” I said sadly. “I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she told me. I found myself collapsing to the floor beside the now-stripped mattress. As uncomfortable as it had been, it seemed even less so now. I found myself wrapping my arms around myself, hugging myself, as I waited to see what Erica had in mind for a plan. ‘Why do I feel dependent on her for that?’ I wondered, ‘I’m a big girl! An adult! I shouldn’t need her help!’ Regardless of that voice, I just sat there and was there when Erica came back inside. “Okay, sweetie, I treated Honey, your jammies, and the bedding; I think they’ll all come clean since we’re washing them immediately.” I nodded, “Umm… thanks, you shouldn’t have to clean up after me like this. I am sooo embarrassed!” She reached down and picked me up, “It’s okay, Katie. I don’t think you’re in any condition right now to do much about it. You ate something weird for your body, or maybe you’ve already picked up a stomach bug. Either way, you can’t help it!” I nodded. “Look, I don’t have another set of clean bedding right now for that bed. I could cover the mattress with a blanket, but I think you’d be more comfortable in the crib?” I looked down inside the cage she held me next to. “But how do I get out?” “I’ll come get you when you wake up!” “How will you know?” “I have a monitor I can use?” “A baby monitor?” I asked, turning red. She shrugged, “Yes?” I was so tired; I just wanted to go to bed. “Okay, I’ll try it for a night.” She said nothing then, just gently depositing me on the mattress. Right away, I had to acknowledge that it was way more comfortable as I rolled to my stomach and moved to my preferred sleeping position. She pulled the blanket on the rail and covered me gently. I felt her hand rub my back as I turned over onto my stomach. “Get some sleep, Katie; I’ll see you in the morning.” A moment later, the lights were off again; the nightlight shone some stars, and I became more awake. I brushed against one of the rails on the side, turned over to my side, and jumped when the sound of a music box started above my head. I opened my eyes and saw that the mobile above the crib had been activated somehow. I tried to see how my bumping into the rail had done anything. It was kind of soothing; playing a melody of Rock-a-bye Baby first didn’t make me feel better, though! Twinkle Twinkle Little Star followed. Then Brahm’s Lullaby was a thing here, too, as it started. My eyes grew heavier then, and I soon drifted back to sleep. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press that Like Button and leave a comment! This has been an interesting project... it was supposed to be a short novella! I'm finally on the last chapter and epilogue, and I doubled the word count to be considered a novel. 🤦🏼‍♀️ Unless something changes, the total will be 26 Chapters and the epilogue. So, I'll be posting the rest of this for a bit. Hopefully, after next weekend (real life), I'll have time to get back to LCW. Anyway, thanks for the kind words, likes and such! They make it easier to keep writing! 💜

Chapter 41: MacGyvered The next day she grabbed coffee for the executives like every Monday. Emma delivered the coffees and went to Chad’s office. She blinked in surprise to see Ted there early in the morning. “Miss Rose, nice to see you again.” He said, nodding to her as she set Chad’s coffee down. “Good to see you too.” She said back, eyes glancing to Chad’s always-studying gaze, as if his eyes were trained on her. “Emma, Ted is here to get some more information about Bailey. He’s going to be in the conference room today and you’ll spend a hour or however long he needs you for some more help on the case.” Chad stated as Ted stood with his files. “Okay, yeah.” She nodded, standing awkwardly. Ted said, “I’ll see you at 8AM Miss Rose. I’m meeting with Eugene first and he’ll also be in our meeting.” Emma smiled politely, “Great. See you then.” Ted nodded to the both of them before leaving the room. Emma still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, awaiting Chad’s instruction as if she were scared of doing something wrong. Chad smiled, humor playing on his expression as he nodded to her desk, “You can get straight to work this morning, little Emma. I won’t give you the baby treatment until Friday unless your acting out, hm?” He asked, eyes twinkling mischievously. Emma stood a second longer, her eyes shifting at the fact he planned on diapering her Friday, “Unless you want a diaper for the day and your paci?” He tilted his head in question of her hesitation to move. “Nope. I’m good, just uh-“ Emma paused before going to her office in a thought of it’d be gross if Chad diapered her today considering it was that time of the month. He studied her in confusion as she just stood for another moment and she blurted, “I’m on my menstrual cycle. Just thought I’d mention in the case you were planning any of, er, that anytime sooner than Friday.” Chad smirked, “Just because you’re on your period doesn’t mean I won’t not diaper and baby you when necessary during that time of the month. I’m not grossed out, if you’re worried about that.” He said, a bit too naturally for Emma’s liking. Emma pressed her lips together and nodded, “Okay then.” She walked to her desk and set her purse in her drawer like usual, taking a few sips of her coffee. She felt Chad’s stare for a few moments longer and she looked up in his awaiting gaze. “Do you mind if I ask one thing about that?” He asked, tilting his head. “Sure.” Emma said, wondering what was on his mind. “Do you use tampons, pads or other?” He asked in an almost clinical tone, like a doctor asking a patient. Emma sat in her chair, blinking in surprise, “I mean, both tampons and pads. Usually the first few days pads, then tampons.” She blushed, the first time telling a man that, “Uhm, why?” Chad smiled warmly, “Just because if I put you in a diaper I’d remove the tampon – I don’t want you to wear a tampon for the sake of hiding your bleeding. If you want a tampon, that’s up to you but I would rather have you comfortable. It’s also I’m sure much more comfortable to have only a diaper I’d imagine, hm?” He tilted his head in a genuine question. Emma blinked in surprise at how caring he was, in some weird way, about making sure she was comfortable during the worst time of each month. It was admittedly really considerate and sweet to Emma. Emma bit her lip, not prior considering a diaper as a good means of protection during her cycle. It probably would be way more comfortable and she’d not have to worry about leaking… “Yeah. Probably.” Emma shrugged and Chad nodded, turning to his work as Emma opened her laptop and they both didn’t talk again for a bit. After fifteen minutes, a knock sounded on the door and Chad said, “Come in.” Graham peaked his head in, looking to Emma first before Chad as he smiled, “Good morning, boss.” Chad chuckled, “Please, just call me Chad.” Graham said slyly, “Hey, at least I don’t have to call you what Emma does I’m good with anything.” He eyed Emma playfully as Emma opened her mouth in surprise of his blatant jab and glared back. Chad chuckled again by the suprisingly witty comment and opened a file cabinet, bringing out a file folder and handing it to Graham as he approached, “You already clocked in with Jessica, right?” “Yes sir.” Graham said as he took the file folder. “Good, then you’ll be with Charity half of the morning. After lunch, you can shadow Jose the rest of the day. You’ll be working alongside Jose and Megan the rest of the week.” Chad said. “Sounds great, thanks Chad.” Graham said before turning and Emma held her breath, hoping Graham wouldn’t say anymore to her demise. Graham paused at the door, winking to Emma, “Also, to Emma’s defense on Saturday, it was our friend Deon who requested parental access on the movie. I’ll let you know if little Emmie is bad on my supervision.” Chad smiled in his wickedly handsome way, “Thanks for the report back. Happy to hear she was on her best behavior.” He chuckled lightly, eyes going to Emma who frowned and looked back to her email, acting like Graham wasn’t there. “Mhm. You’re welcome.” He said before leaving. A few moments after Graham left, Chad paused from his typing, “I think I’m beginning to really like your friend, Emma. Are all your friends like this? Maybe I’ll want to meet Deon and Kylie next.” He said and Emma licked her lips in irritation that he remembered her friends names so easily. Emma nodded, “They are unfortunately similar to Graham.” She said, deciding to not hide the truth. If Chad would inevitably meet them, she knew what she’d be in for. “Hm. Noted.” He said with a ghost of a smile on his face. Then he turned and went back to his work. An hour later, Emma found herself in a meeting with Ted and Eugene who already had gotten all of the websites and Emma’s passwords for her cybercriminal past. Emma helped them into her servers that were already wiped and denied in access. “So, do you have any other way to access the servers? Kiara was similar, no leads on the actual databases and servers.” Ted said, looking like he was lost on what to do for further access at this stage. Emma tilted her head, “I have other methods. I’d need a computer and VPN that we can dispose of but… we can get in another route. If that route doesn’t work, I could at least get a grasp of a location and we could go the manual route from there.” “Manual route?” Eugene asked in confusion. “Like inserting my chip with a spy.” Emma stated in a matter-of-fact way. “That’d be very dangerous and we don’t have anyone to do that.” Ted said, thinking through that possibility. Emma paused a moment, eyes shifting at the blank server on the screen in front of them, “May I ask a question, Ted?” “Shoot.” He replied. “Are they still actively hacking? Like you’ve had other clients or issues?” “Not so far. They are either laying low and about to strike or completely dissembled. We are a bit afraid that they have relation to the SugarBabies that our other clients have us in other cases on. We have no proof of correlation but there is a common thread of clients that strangely from the Jenkins Firm that know clients or have ties to clients affected by the SugarBabies. It seems targeted but we have no proof.” Ted stated, blue eyes staring at the server like they all were until Emma looked to Ted, blinking in thought. “Do you have any servers or data on them?” Emma asked. “Uh- we do. We have both, actually.” He said slowly. “I’d have to get approval for you me to disclose anything here and cross our clientele though.” “Okay. Well, if you get approval, then that’s something I could work with.” Emma said, crossing her arms in thought. “What have these Sugar Babies done, if you don’t mind me asking?” “NDA on that one. Again, I’d need-“ “Approval. Got it.” Emma ended his sentence. Although Ted didn’t talk, he looked to Emma with new motivation for his other case. Eugene dismissed himself as he had a feeling the meeting was done. Ted also left the room to make a call, but asked Emma to stay. He came back within 15 minutes saying, “We have approval.” Emma nodded, “So uh, do you have the information in your laptop?” “I have pictures of the suspects and a link to a server. We’ve only investigated the server and-“ “Can’t go into the server until you have a separate laptop and a VPN.” Emma ended his sentence. “Damn, you really know your stuff, huh?” He said, rubbing his jaw in surprise of all she knew, “Okay, well, I’ll show you the data we have on the server, our case and suspects. I won’t say anything yet – I want your thoughts without my bias before that.” He logged into his case files and pulled up a few tabs and PDF’s before sliding his laptop to her. Emma flipped through the server’s information, seeing familiar coding and details, “MacGyver’s code. This is it.” Emma said, flicking through and taking the server link. “MacGyver? Like the TV series?” Emma smiled to Ted, “Yup. It’s his hacker codename – we all had our own on the server. That’s who taught me to code and hack. He’s the unknown superior of my old boss, Bailey. I’m pretty sure he created Jenkins Firm.” Ted blinked, realizing that Emma knew way more than she let on, “Did you meet him in person?” “Nope. Only over Zoom.” Emma chirped in response, still scrolling through the cases and files. “So, these Sugar Babies are hired to romance bigtime CEO’s to take all or their money and basically be paid gold diggers?” She stated as she looked to Ted, her brain still not processing how Emma saw familiar code and her mind scrambling on what this meant. What was MacGyver doing with these Sugar Babies? That... didn't make any sense. Emma was a skilled hacker - she would have known all and any affiliated businesses of Jenkins Firm. She was sure Bailey would have told her, wouldn't she have? Ted broke her out of her thoughts, “Yes… so, did you see how he looked? What he sounded like?” Ted asked, pressing for more. “No and kind of. He, could be she or they given, never showed their face and only screenshared. They had a male deep voice that was altered, I’m pretty sure. I have no information on them, but this coding and server build is them to a T.” She said, eyes staring at the server still. “Well, that gives us something.” Ted murmured to himself with a sigh, “Well, can you look at the suspects and tell me if anyone is familiar?” Emma nodded, clicking on the other tab and scrolling for a bit, not seeing anyone familiar until… Familiar brown eyes and blonde hair showed on the screen. “Brittany?”

Chapter 40: Lost Connection The next day Emma found herself on the hiking trails to Menomee Falls. She walked thirty minutes to the falls, watching as a family stood near the falls and the dad was struggling to take a selfie. “Want me to take the picture?” Emma offered, walking up to the family and the woman holding a toddler in her arms. “Oh, that’d be great!” The taller man with dark brown hair said, handing her his phone as she snapped a few pictures. “Thank you.” “Of course.” Emma grinned at the toddler fussing in the moms arms as she passed the blonde haired toddler to the man. “Yes, thanks so much!” The wife said as Emma handed the phone back and looked to her husband, “Think she needs a change, do you think we should wait until the car, Bill?” The blonde woman said with a wrinkle of her nose and pulling on the waistband of their daughter’s pants. The stinky smell wafted towards Emma as she turned, walking away to the other end of the falls and feeling suddenly awkward. Emma sat on a rock and grabbed her water, her eyes glancing at the family that went to the edge of the waterfall, getting out their diaper changing supplies. Emma blushed at the thought that Chad wasn’t much different in his mannerisms from how the mom and dad were as they laid down their baby and changed her. In fact, he was too similar in his treatment of Emma. Emma shifted, feeling a buzz of humiliation and heat travel to her face and lower abdomen at that thought. Ugh, why did that always happen? Emma thought, coming to terms that she was attracted to Chad and it was his fault. She was sure it wasn’t the fact that she liked diapers. For certain, it was just the fact it was Chad who forced her into them, not that she enjoyed them. Emma watched the falls cascade and the light peak through the heavily forested canopy over her tan thighs for a good ten minutes in deep thought. After her brain debating itself, she decided to trek back. Within 15 minutes of her trail walk back to her car, her apple watch dinged with a few messages and missed calls, “Huh.” She tilted her head, getting her phone out of her Lululemon purse and looking at the missed calls from Daddy. “I should really change that.” Emma mumbled to herself as she looked at the texts Chad sent: Emma, where are you going? I got a notification your location is unknown. Emma saw another sent separately five minutes later: Are you okay? Please text me, I just want to make sure you are fine. Emma saw five missed calls as she raised her eyebrows, wondering why Chad was so frantic, “Jesus christ Chad, calm down.” Emma muttered before she clicked his name and popped in her airpod to avoid her phone caller ID showing as she passed people on the trail. He picked up the first ring, “Emma, are you okay?” He asked, voice sounding rough with a waver of genuine concern. Emma refrained from a sigh, “Yes.” He sighed in relief, “Good, I thought maybe you'd gotten into an accident." He paused and asked, "Where are you? I saw your last location in the mountains and guessed maybe you were going on a hike hike.” “Yup, just hiking at the falls. I’ll send you my location pin if it makes you feel better.” She got out her phone and went to their text thread and sent her pin. “You don’t have to-“ He paused, seeing it come through, “I already have your location. It is coming in and out though.” He murmured. Emma smiled a bit at the fact that he must actually care if he sounded so stressed about her being off the radar for however long she was. It was surprisingly endearing to Emma, feeling like someone actually cared about her well-being. Emma said after a pause of silence, “Happy now? I’ll text you when I’m back home.” She could hear Chad’s irritated sigh at her slight attitude, “Watch your attitude, little girl. Do you want to be diapered and in Derek’s office all day tomorrow? Or better, maybe Sav’s? She hasn’t gotten the chance to babysit you yet and I’ve yet to tell her that you found her Fetlife.” Ah, the not-so-subtle threats have began. Emma thought maybe, just maybe, Chad could have a normal conversation without a chastise or belittling comment with Emma since she'd been put in this predicament with him. Emma licked her lips, “Sorry-“ She stumbled over a tree branch in a slight breathless pause, “wait- you haven’t told her yet?” Emma asked, surprised and even more terrified of Sav and the fact that she didn’t know what Emma had done. Emma could have sworn Sav knew, considering Sav’s looks recently and her verbal jabs already. Damn, if that was Sav before she found out... what would happen when she found out? “No. I haven’t.” He murmured and Emma could hear his smile over the line. “Great.” She grumbled, having a feeling his response and smile only meant he was saving that moment for the right time to tell Sav when he could use it as a weapon. Emma sighed, “Okay, well, I’ll text you.” She was ready to hang up as she turned her apple watch on her wrist. “Wait-“ He said quickly and Emma was seconds away from hanging up, “I want you to stay on the phone until you’re back in the car, hm?” His tone not a question, but a command. Emma frowned, “Okay.” “Good girl.” He praised as Emma gulped, feeling flushed by even talking to him over the phone. There was a silence that Emma planned to be mute until her car if Chad didn’t start anymore conversation, yet he didn’t let Emma off the hook so easily, “What trail are you on?” “The right one.” Emma said as she walked over the wood bridge that went above a stream and rocks. Emma came across a man with a super friendly golden retriever that pulled to Emma, nudging against her hand for pets. “Sorry.” The owner said, in a hint of a Canadian accent. He was handsome and tall, with short blonde hair. Emma kneeled and scratched the dogs head, behind its ears, “It’s okay, I love dogs.” Emma giggled as the dog suddenly jumped on her, licking her face. Emma squealed in a laugh and surprise by the sudden affection that knocked her back onto the ground. “Jiggy no!” The owner said as Emma fell back and the dog licked her cheek. “I’m so sorry ‘bout that!” He said as Jiggy got off and he helped her up by her hand. Emma was a fit of giggles from the overly affectionate dog as she stood, patting away the hairs and dirt now on her, “This isn’t the first time nor last that’s happened to me. It’s totally fine.” She grinned and nodded, “Have a great walk! Nice to meet your dog Jiggy.” The guy paused, looking at her for a moment longer before nodding and continuing to walk. Chad was on the line the whole time, listening to them, “What happened?” He asked, curious. Emma gave an after-giggle as she kept walking, “An incredibly cute golden retriever just assaulted me with it’s love. It was great.” Emma said sarcastically. Chad chuckled over the phone for a moment before saying, “Hm, and that happens a lot to you?” Emma grinned as she kept walking, “Yes. It seems like dogs like me.” “And you don’t own any?” “Nope, I wish. I am gone too much to take care of one.” Emma said. Chad said after a thoughtful pause, “Hm, makes sense. You also are too little to take care of one.” Emma glared in front of her at his jab as he asked, “Do you ever take the middle trail?” He asked, curious. “Sometimes. Today I felt like a one mile hike. If I’m feeling adventurous I like the 2 mile one to the other falls.” She said with a thoughtful pause, “What trail do you like?” She could hear his smile again, “I like the middle trail. It’s a nice walk when I bring Benson, it tires him out.” “Benson?” Emma didn’t hesitate. Was it his kid? Emma knew Chad was too good to be true… maybe he had children she hadn’t known about. “My brother’s dog. I watch him every other weekend or so. My brother and his wife have their hands full at times with their kids and I’m more than happy to watch him when I can.” “Makes sense.” Emma said, walking to the end of the trail up a hill and into the gravel parking lot that led to her car. She pressed her key and said, “Welp, I’m here.” Chad almost sounded disappointed over the phone, as if he wanted to have longer to talk, “Okay. Text me when you’re home, hm?” “Sure, will do.” She mumbled, opening her door, “Have a good rest of your weekend. See you tomorrow.” “Mhm, you too and go to bed on time, little Emma.” He said firmly in response. Emma rolled her eyes, “Yup. Bye.” She said before hanging up and getting into her car. She snipped a bit at Chad but could he blame her? She was a bit moody and had started her period that day after all. She just wanted to go home and eat pizza with ice cream that night while watching the Bachelor which she was now way behind on. The last thing she wanted on her day off was to be reprimanded by Chad Williams, after all. Emma drove home and thought about Chad. She really didn’t think about his personal life much yet but it was interesting to her that he was so kind in helping his brother and sister-in-law in their dog care. The more she knew about Chad, the more that scared her. She felt like she was falling for him more and more. That was terrifying, really, and she was bracing for the moment he’d break her heart. It was inevitable, she knew, yet there wasn’t much she could do at this point, could she? Emma listened to her depressing playlist on the way home, trying to not think or feel all the things she had been trying to avoid, yet failing. Her heart squeezed in pain at the thoughts that she couldn’t stop of a possibility of them dating and that it’d never happen. She felt her tears watery as she blinked the tears back while she drove. It was her menstrual cycle hormones… she’d chalk it up to that for now at least. _____________________ Thanks for everyone's patience on these next chapters! It's been a second and I've been sick, lots of family things happening(I'm sure everyone can relate - it's a bit hard to read or write ABDL literature when family's in town haha!). I am now back to posting. Hoping to get two chapters out tonight for my hiatus! Enjoy!

Thank you for all the reactions! I feel like I have fans Wonder what you'll make of this one… Act II does seem to be quite investigation-heavy, more than character based, so there are a lot of "clues" packed in here. Are you picking them up, or getting impatient hoping I'll introduce a new baby? 24. Housewarming Isadora stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, smoothing down the front of her dress for what felt like the hundredth time. The emerald green cocktail dress was beautiful, far more expensive than anything she'd ever owned before, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was all wrong. Too flashy, too revealing, too… everything. She wasn’t comfortable like this, and wondered that it would be obvious. But of course, she had already reasoned that Brock was playing on that deliberately. Estelle Klein wasn’t a socialite, she was an administrator. And even their courtship wouldn’t have changed that. Spy novels might have taught the world that an experienced operative could act naturally in any company, but if she thought about it seriously she knew that the Agency had gone one better by giving her a legend who would be just as uncomfortable as Isadora herself in some situations. “You look stunning,” Brock's voice came from behind her. She turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, already dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. “Every woman at this party will be green with envy.” Isadora forced a smile. "I just hope I don't spill anything on it. Or trip and fall. Or say something stupid…” “Stella,” Brock said consolingly. “Stella, Stella, Stella. You are smart and beautiful. Nothing you ever say could be considered stupid. Just be yourself, and I guarantee everyone will fall in love with you.” It was probably the worst possible advice on how to play her role; but of course it was exactly the advice Bernard would give. He couldn’t see the world from any point of view other than his own, looking down from a world where confidence and first impressions were the only things that mattered. “Don’t call me Stella,” she answered, and pouted. “It’s Estelle. I’m not just some doll to hang on your arm, you know? And I think one lovesick idiot hanging on my arm is more than enough for me. I don’t need anybody else’s attention.” “Touché,” Brock smiled, clasping a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded. “I’m sure you’ll be great, anyway. Mrs Klein.” He crossed the room in a few quick strides, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, relax. You've got this. Remember, you're Mrs Estelle Klein now. Confident, charming, the perfect hostess." “I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” she joked. “But yes, I’ll do my best. I still don’t know why we need a housewarming party, though. Or why we have to buy more food than we need and get it all from luxury brands that charge twice the price for just the name.” “Isn’t the name important? Estelle?” “I guess,” Isadora said, looking down at her hands and blushing. Most of her worries had gone away now, so Brock must be better at this than she had expected. Of course, the things she’d been worrying about had merely been supplanted in her mind by the things that should have made Estelle apprehensive or frustrated, but that was still an improvement. He was guiding her into her legend like a master, and she could really be grateful for that. She took a deep breath, trying to imagine Estelle getting over her nerves for the sake of her husband’s social standing. It was hard, but she could remind herself that she was supposed to love this little bundle of arrogance. "Right. Estelle Klein. I can do this." The doorbell rang, startling them both before Bernard could dig himself any deeper. Brock glanced at his watch. "Right on time. I’ll go greet our guests. You finish up here and then come down to corral any wandering wives, okay? And just this once, let me worry about the food." “And the drink?” she asked. “I’m sure I can handle a few.” He didn’t wait for a response before he breezed off downstairs. Isadora took a deep breath and counted to ten, hoping that his apparent lack of concern there was only Bernard’s way of thinking. She needed Brock to stay sober behind the mask, and catch any clues dropped by Arrencani and his people. But somehow, she thought her confidence was growing. It was easy to imagine that Brock didn’t see his drinking as a problem; after all the excuses he’d made during their training. But it was very hard to imagine him actually making a mistake on an assignment. She just had to keep reminding herself that the latitude Kane gave him was probably because he was good enough to earn it; maybe even as good as Brown, once all the rumours were set aside. She turned to the mirror for one last check. And for just a moment, she wondered if she was seeing the pretty woman that Bernard saw in her; mature and confident, able to bring even the successful businessman to his knees. But she wasn’t comfortable in the role, and she was realising now that her discomfort wasn’t just from the belief that she would never be mature enough to fill a chic role like that. More importantly, there was a part of her that never wanted to be so conspicuously confident. As Brock's footsteps faded down the stairs, she reached into the drawer of her vanity and pulled out a small, stuffed shark. A talisman that none of their guests would ever know about. "Wish me luck, Mr. Sharkie," she whispered, giving the toy a quick squeeze before tucking him back into his hiding place. Downstairs, the house was a flurry of activity. Isadora made her way through the living room, where Brock had opened up the doors to his drinks cabinet and spread the most accessible bottles along the top of the sideboard as a kind of makeshift bar. She guessed that there was some kind of unspoken code between gentlemen, and that they would ask before reaching into the drinks cabinet itself for the bottles with the three figure price tags. Or maybe those were reserved for neighbours who knew what they were; she didn’t know the etiquette that well. She did, however, note with some relief that most of the bottles were still sealed. In the kitchen, she found platters of finger foods already laid out; some they had prepared earlier, and some supplied in an artistic spread from the upscale supermarkets, so they could just pull away a foil lid and the food would be ready to serve. The main event was the frill outside, though. Brock had been intermittently tending to the charcoal all day, and had assured her that it would be ready to cook on twenty minutes after the first guests arrived. Of course, there were already a few men peering at the coals, ready to criticise or compliment the man of the house on the distribution of small and large pieces, or how thickly they were spread, or whatever else made a difference to the task of cooking food over charcoal. It was a type of cooking Isadora had never mastered; but she was getting the impression that there was some kind of primordial desire to play with fire in all men, even those who would normally leave cooking to their wives, or rely on three-star professional chefs for every meal. In the middle of the group, she wasn’t surprised to see Brock carefully tending the grill. He probably had more experience burning things than anyone else here; but she could hope that he wouldn’t bring the house down today. He was fussing over the leftmost grill, a look of intense concentration on his face. It was almost comical to see him in his tailored suit, wielding barbecue tongs like they were some kind of precision instrument. "Need any help out there?" she called, sliding the door open. Brock looked up, grinning. "I've got it under control, darling. Just have to wait a little before it’s ready to cook." Around him, she could see some other men offering unsolicited advice, which he accepted graciously and would then probably try to ignore while still making them feel valued. While they talked, Isadora tried to put names to the faces, some of whom she had only seen pictures of before. The tall, distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair was undoubtedly Victor Solomon, who had bought a large house near a back gate of Evergreen Estates only a year before. Next to him stood Harold Pemberton, a retired accountant who had once testified about millions embezzled from a company pension scheme. According to their briefing pack, he was now best known for his prized rose garden, although the Home Owners’ Committee had once voted against a byelaw to discourage him from boring people with long stories about his grandchildren. On the other side of Brock was Frank Donovan, a jovial man with a ruddy complexion who owned a successful chain of hardware stores in the region. Isadora recalled from the files that he was an avid golfer and had recently been elected to the board of the local country club. A bit further back, nursing a glass of whiskey, was George Whitman, a reclusive novelist who rarely attended social gatherings. The dossier had mentioned his penchant for conspiracy theories, which made Isadora wonder if he might have picked up any information that would actually be useful to them; although it was likely to be very difficult to get any concrete facts out of the man. As she observed the group, she noticed how seamlessly Brock integrated himself, laughing at their jokes and asking just the right questions to keep the conversation flowing. It was a masterclass in social engineering, and Isadora found herself both impressed and a little unnerved by how easily he slipped into the role of Bernard Klein, charismatic new neighbour and aspiring grill master. She also found herself speculating about whether he could make a steak on a grill taste as good as any of his varied creations of pasta and rice. Another man approached, tall with red hair. He was nibbling on some hors d'oeuvres, and before Isadora could put a name to the face, the doorbell rang. Startled out of her thoughts, she called "I'll get it!" and hurried back through the house. Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door to reveal Mrs. Stanwick, beaming and clutching a potted plant. "Hello, dear!" the older woman exclaimed. "I hope we're not too early. I brought you a little housewarming gift." "Not at all," Isadora replied, channelling Estelle's warmth. "Please, come in. Bernard's just firing up the grill out back. Oh yes, and I keep forgetting to return the casserole dish you lent us. It’s in the nook near the back door, if you want to take it back to your place." As she ushered Mrs. Stanwick inside, more guests began to arrive. A few chose to ring the bell, while more were able to follow the scent of smouldering charcoal to the back of the house. Some brought bottles; while a man who introduced himself as Gerald Neek arrived carrying a foil-wrapped parcel of meat from his own smoker. Soon, the house and garden were filled with the buzz of conversation and laughter. Isadora found herself flitting from group to group, making introductions and ensuring everyone had drinks and trying to put every piece of gossip she heard together with her mental database of known backgrounds and affiliations. She was just refilling the ice bucket when she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she found herself face to face with one of the people she had seen assisting with the grill earlier. He was one of the people she had been most interested to speak to, especially given the inscrutable glances that Mrs Stanwick kept casting in his direction. "Mrs. Klein," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure. Victor Solomon." He extended his hand. Isadora took it, trying to ignore her own nervousness while also presenting the image of a woman much less self-assured. “Call me Estelle, please. It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Solomon. I hope you're enjoying Bernard’s cooking?" "Indeed I am," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. "Though I must say, the company has just improved dramatically." Isadora felt her cheeks flush. Was he flirting with her? Was he so energetic with everyone? She scrambled for a response that Estelle might give, something polite but not encouraging. Before she could speak, Brock appeared at her side, slipping an arm around her waist. "Victor! I was wondering where you had got to. The first rack of ribs is ready, if you’d like to sample that paprika and blue cheese sauce in its natural habitat. I see you've met my better half." Victor's smile didn't falter, but Isadora sensed a subtle shift in the air between the two men. "Indeed I have. You're a lucky man, Bernard. And I sincerely hope that your marital bliss is still binding you so closely as the years pass." “I’m sure it will,” Brock replied, his tone light but with an underlying firmness that Isadora hadn't heard before. “I don’t think I’ve met your young lady yet, you shall have to introduce us. From what I hear, our wives might get on just as well. But right now, I think it would be a crime to leave those ribs waiting.“ As the men moved away, Isadora let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She wasn’t sure if she’d been worrying over nothing, or if Brock had just saved her from a moment of embarrassment, but in either case she was glad the moment had ended; and somehow felt a faint stirring of irrational jealousy as she watched how easily Brock had earned the man’s trust. She didn’t let herself dwell on it. The party was in full swing now, and she knew the real work was just beginning. Somewhere in this crowd were the answers they sought. All they had to do was find them.

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Chapter One A Shameful Issue Claire Reynolds fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling as she tried to fit the right one into the lock. The sharp clink of metal echoed through the dim hallway, mocking her urgency. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple despite the cool air. “Come on,” she hissed under her breath, bouncing slightly on her heels. When the key finally slid into place, she shoved the door open and bolted inside, her purse slipping from her shoulder and landing in a heap on the floor. She didn’t stop to pick it up. The bathroom door was just a few steps away, but those few steps felt impossibly long. Her hand gripped the doorknob when it happened. The warm, mortifying sensation began at her thighs and cascaded downward, soaking her gray slacks and forming a humiliating puddle at her feet. Claire froze, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at the dark stain spreading down her legs. “No,” she whispered, the word catching like a sob in her chest. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, the scene unfolding beneath her as though it were happening to someone else. But the sharp smell of urine quickly snapped her back to reality. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Shame washed over her, making her stomach churn. This was the third time this week. Claire leaned against the bathroom door, covering her face with her hands. The knot of anxiety in her chest tightened, and her thoughts spun wildly. What was happening to her? She’d already been to the doctor—no infections, no physical problems, nothing that explained why this kept happening. “Stress,” the doctor had said, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Sometimes your body reacts in unexpected ways. Try to take it easy for a while.” Take it easy? As if Claire Reynolds, Vice President of Marketing at Goldstein & Gray, had time to "take it easy." She had built her entire career by thriving under pressure, outmaneuvering competitors, and crushing challenges. Yet now, standing in a puddle of her own making, she felt utterly powerless. Claire peeled off her wet slacks and underwear, tossing them angrily into the laundry hamper before stepping into the shower. She turned the water as hot as she could stand, hoping the scalding heat might burn away the humiliation clinging to her skin. The bathroom filled with steam, but the knot in her chest remained. Wrapped in a robe, Claire sat on her couch with a glass of wine in her hand. The faint glow of the TV illuminated her face, though her eyes remained unfocused. The news anchor’s voice droned in the background, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment she lost control over and over. Three times in a week. Three times. Maybe it really was stress, she thought, staring into her empty glass. Work had been relentless lately, and the weight of it all was starting to show. Claire barely had time to breathe between managing her team, placating demanding clients, and watching Samantha Drake inch closer to her throne. Samantha. The name alone made her skin prickle. She could see Samantha’s smiling face now, framed by perfectly styled blonde hair, her bright blue eyes practically sparkling with confidence. Samantha was talented, ambitious, and far too likable for Claire’s comfort. People flocked to her naturally, eager to bask in her glow. And Claire? She was the one standing outside her bathroom, soaked to the skin and trying to hold on to her dignity. Her jaw tightened as she set the empty wine glass on the table. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some fragile mess who couldn’t keep herself together. She was the second most powerful person in the company, and Samantha was nothing but another subordinate. She just needed rest. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. But deep down, Claire wasn’t so sure. She walked into the office the next morning with a practiced smile that felt like it might crack under the strain. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing through the sleek lobby of Goldstein & Gray. She moved quickly, her steps purposeful, as though the sound alone could drown out her unease. You’ve got this, she told herself. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, haunted by the humiliating memory of her accident. Now, as she reached her desk, she fought to bury the thought and focus on what mattered: work. Her assistant, Melissa, greeted her with a stack of files and a fresh coffee. “Morning, Ms. Reynolds. Here’s the prep for the Ross presentation at ten.” “Thank you,” Claire said curtly, taking the files without breaking stride. She slipped into her office and closed the door behind her, exhaling slowly. For the next hour, Claire buried herself in spreadsheets and client notes, trying to lose herself in the comforting predictability of data. It almost worked—until there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she called, not looking up. The door opened, and Claire’s stomach sank when she heard the familiar, cheerful voice. “Good morning, Claire. Got a minute?” Samantha Drake. Claire glanced up, masking her irritation with a tight smile. Samantha stood in the doorway, her tailored navy dress accentuating her polished appearance. She looked every bit the up-and-coming star Claire begrudgingly acknowledged she was. “What can I do for you, Samantha?” Claire asked, keeping her tone neutral. Samantha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve seemed… tense lately.” Claire’s smile faltered. “Tense? I’m fine.” Samantha tilted her head, her expression sympathetic in a way that made Claire’s teeth clench. “I know how demanding this job can be. And, well…” She hesitated, feigning concern. “There have been a few murmurs around the office. About you seeming, I don’t know, a little distracted?” “Murmurs?” Claire’s voice sharpened, but Samantha’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “Nothing major,” Samantha said quickly, holding up her hands. “It’s just that people look up to you, Claire. You’ve set the bar so high, and I think they’re worried about you burning out.” Claire forced a laugh, though it came out brittle. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly capable of handling my workload.” Samantha nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Of course you are. You’ve always been an inspiration to me.” The words sounded genuine, but Claire couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that there was an edge beneath them. Before Claire could respond, Samantha added, “If you ever need support, though—someone to help lighten the load—I know an excellent assistant who could make things easier for you.” Claire stiffened. “I don’t need help.” “Of course not,” Samantha said smoothly. “But if you change your mind, let me know. It’s important to take care of yourself.” With that, Samantha offered a polite smile and left, leaving Claire alone in her office, simmering. The morning passed in a blur of emails and conference calls, but Samantha’s words lingered like an unwelcome guest. By the time the Ross presentation rolled around, Claire was on edge, her mind racing with a cocktail of frustration and self-doubt. She entered the boardroom, her posture as sharp as ever, and launched into the presentation with the confidence that had made her reputation. But halfway through, as she stood before the team, a sudden wave of pressure in her bladder made her pause. Not now, she thought, gripping the edge of the table. She forced herself to keep going, her voice steady even as her body betrayed her. With every passing second, the pressure grew, and by the time she wrapped up the presentation, she could barely focus on the questions. The moment it ended, she bolted from the room, ignoring the curious glances from her colleagues. She made it to the bathroom just in time, slamming the stall door shut and collapsing onto the toilet. Relief flooded through her, but it was short-lived. The near miss left her shaking, her mind spinning with worst-case scenarios. What if she hadn’t made it? What if she had humiliated herself in front of the entire team? Claire sat there for a long moment, her breathing uneven. This couldn’t keep happening. Back at her desk, Claire stared at her computer screen, her thoughts far from work. The memory of Samantha’s offer gnawed at her. As much as she hated to admit it, the idea of having help—even temporary—sounded less ridiculous than it had that morning. But no. She wouldn’t give Samantha the satisfaction. Still, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that her grip on control was slipping, one agonizing inch at a time. Chapter Two Enter Linda By the time Claire got home that evening, she was exhausted. The day had been grueling, and the close call during the presentation lingered in her mind like a bad dream. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, poured herself a glass of wine, and sank into the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. This couldn’t go on. The memory of Samantha’s offer crept back into her thoughts. Claire clenched her jaw. Asking for help from someone Samantha recommended felt like admitting defeat, but she couldn’t keep living with the constant fear of humiliation. Before she could overthink it, she pulled out her phone and dialed Samantha’s number. “Samantha Drake,” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “It’s Claire,” she said, her tone clipped. “About that assistant you mentioned. Do you have their contact information?” Samantha’s response came almost too quickly. “Of course! Her name is Linda. She’s young, but she’s a natural at organization and discretion. I’ll text you her number.” “Thanks,” Claire said tersely and hung up before Samantha could gloat. The next day, Linda promptly arrived at Claire’s apartment at 9 a.m. Claire opened the door to find a young woman with auburn hair tied in a neat ponytail, bright hazel eyes, and a sunny smile that seemed almost too earnest. Claire thought with a twinge of skepticism that she couldn’t have been older than nineteen. “Hi, Ms. Reynolds! I’m Linda. It’s such an honor to meet you,” she chirped, extending a hand. Claire hesitated before shaking it. “You’re… younger than I expected,” she said bluntly. Linda didn’t miss a beat. “People say that all the time. But I promise, I’m great at what I do. I’ve worked with other executives before, and I’m here to make your life easier.” Claire stepped aside, motioning for Linda to come in. The girl walked in with an eager bounce, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Claire watched her carefully, trying to gauge whether this was a good idea. “So,” Claire said, folding her arms. “Tell me what you can do.” Linda enthusiastically listed her skills: scheduling, task management, meal prepping, and errand running. She even mentioned a knack for helping with “personal matters,” though Claire dismissed that with a wave. After twenty minutes, Claire sighed. Although Linda was extremely young, on paper, she was a perfect solution to her stress. “Fine. Let’s try this out. I’ll give you a week to prove yourself. If I don’t see results, that’s it. Understood?” Linda beamed. “You won’t regret it, Ms. Reynolds!” The first few days were surprisingly smooth. Linda was efficient and unflinchingly polite, handling Claire’s demanding schedule with ease. She organized Claire’s cluttered desk, prepared meals that were waiting when Claire got home, and even started leaving subtle reminders for things Claire might have forgotten. On Linda’s fourth day, she was tidying up Claire’s kitchen when Claire rushed through the door, pale and frazzled. “Out of the way,” Claire muttered, bolting toward the bathroom. Linda watched in surprise as Claire slammed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire emerged, her face flushed. She was clutching a damp skirt and muttering under her breath. “Everything okay?” Linda asked cautiously. “It’s all fine,” Claire snapped, avoiding Linda’s gaze. Linda didn’t push, but Claire caught the flicker of understanding in her assistant’s eyes. Two nights later, Claire woke up in her wet pajamas. The dark stain on her sheets sent a wave of panic and frustration crashing over her. She began stripping the bed, her hands trembling as she stuffed the soiled sheets into the hamper. She didn’t hear the knock at first. “Ms. Reynolds?” Linda’s voice broke through, hesitant but concerned. Claire froze. Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Linda stepped inside, her eyes widening at the scene: Claire standing in the middle of the room, tear-streaked and clutching damp sheets, her wet pajama bottoms an unmistakable clue. “Oh,” Linda said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Claire turned away, her face burning with humiliation. “Just go,” she said sharply. Instead of leaving, Linda stepped closer. “Ms. Reynolds,” she said gently, “it’s okay. Let me help.” “No, it’s not okay!” Claire’s voice cracked. “This isn’t normal! I’m almost a middle-aged woman, I shouldn’t be wetting myself.” Linda stayed calm, her tone soothing. “Stress can do strange things to the body. You’re dealing with so much right now. It’s not your fault.” Claire sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. Linda knelt beside her. “Why don’t you change into something dry? I’ll take care of this.” Too exhausted to argue, Claire nodded. The final straw came two days later. Claire had stayed late at work, trying to finish a report, when the now-familiar pressure hit her. She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. How could this be happening to her? She was a strong, independent woman with a successful career and a bright future. She wasn’t supposed to wet herself like some oversized toddler who wasn’t potty trained yet. In desperation, she rushed back home. When she got to her apartment, she ran past Linda, although her pants were visibly damp. Linda saw it immediately, but said nothing, quietly following Claire. Linda approached her. “Ms. Reynolds, I think we need to talk.” Claire stiffened. “About what?” Linda hesitated. “I noticed… things have been getting harder for you lately. Maybe it’s time to consider something to help.” Claire’s eyes narrowed, though in her current state, she looked more like a little girl pretending to be an adult than the girl-boss she truly was. “Help? Like what?” Linda’s voice was gentle but firm. “Protective undergarments. Just at night or for when you’re working late. It could give you peace of mind.” Claire stared at her, the words hitting her like a blow. “You’re suggesting diapers.” “I’m suggesting something to make your life easier,” Linda said softly. “There’s no shame in it.” Claire shook her head, her pride flaring. “Absolutely not.” “Claire,” Linda said, dropping the formalities, her tone softening but not wavering. “You’ve had three accidents that I know of this week. The one on the way home from work tonight, the one in bed two nights ago, and the one outside the bathroom earlier this week. And this isn’t something new. Is it?” Claire blushed, not knowing how to answer. “Have you gone to the doctor?” Claire nodded, though all her strength had wavered, replaced by a feeling of impotence and shame. “So, what happened?” “The doctor thinks it is just stress. But I’ve always had stress, and it had never led to something like this,” Claire replied, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m not wearing diapers!” Linda didn’t flinch. “You hired me to make your life easier, didn’t you? That’s all I’m trying to do.” Claire shook her head, her voice trembling with fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not some invalid, Linda. I don’t need diapers!” “It doesn’t look like it. Does it?” “I’ll fix it,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “I’ll go back to the doctor. I’ll drink less coffee. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.” “It’s your decision,” Linda continued, “But just think about this…If it happens at work, what do you think will happen? You have a reputation as a strong and powerful woman. Do you think your employees will respect you after they see you standing in your wet trousers and crying like a baby?” Claire didn’t respond. It killed her knowing that Linda was right. If she ignored the problem, it could only lead to public humiliation. But diapers? She wasn’t a baby. She was an adult woman with so many responsibilities. An image of her wearing a diaper as Linda took care of everything came flooding her mind. It made Claire blush as she shook that thought away. “Just think about it,” Linda added. She turned away, leaving Claire alone in her wet pants. That night, Claire lay in bed, her mind racing. She replayed Linda’s words over and over, each one striking a nerve. The worst part was that Linda was right. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

REVELATIONS 2 “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Marge was on her feet, glaring at Reiko, and it was anyone's guess whether she was about to explode, or melt down. “YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!!” “Why not,” Reiko calmly retorted. Although it was only ten o'clock in the morning, Marge was acting like a senior citizen who had taken out membership in the dreaded Sundowners club. Cool, calm and collected was the order of the day. “Where to start? Well, let me see,” Marge mused. “You're going way beyond sixth sense … talking about some kind of transference for which there is not a single precedent to be found anywhere!” “Speaking in tongues?” “Oh, please,” Marge sneered. “Well, there goes Acts 2,” Becky muttered. “Agnes Ozman,” Reiko hit back, her voice still calm and hopefully soothing. “You should read Goodman and Samarin,” Marge growled. She was rapidly losing patience with her younger colleague. “Then let's consider the fact that Ian has no awareness of Princess Poopy Pants, so how did this transference occur? His daughter was preverbal when last he was home … do you want to argue that she initiated this when she was an infant incapable of conceptualization? Puh … lese!” “The limbic system.” Wide eyed, Candy was struggling to come up with an hypothesis that would situate Reiko's argument in physical reality. “It stores preverbal memory, which can be accessed by the child at an early developmental stage ...” “Under the direction of a therapist,” Marge was quick to respond. “Are you suggesting that whoever kidnapped Linh was kind enough to send her to a therapist to mitigate the trauma?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “They call her Anna.” Reiko could see where Candy was going. “They gave her a name, and then they began to raise her … educate her … all for their own selfish purposes. Something that they did triggered a memory of her father, and now she can sense his pain-- a classic sixth sense episode, nothing unusual about it.” “Oh, really? Reiko, even if I grant all of this … and that's a big 'if' ...” Marge began walking around, thinking on her feet, ticking off points on her fingers. “Linh, wherever she is, may well think that she can sense her father, but her anxiety level must be off the charts. So, there's that ...” Deep in thought, Marge was barely aware of the circle gathered around her. “And we could make the case that Princess Poopy Pants, the sad little girl who shares a physical body with Ian, would transfer these negative emotions to Linh, only she can't reach her so she fills the gap by creating Anna out of thin air ...” “Okay, I can live with that,” Marge nodded firmly. “Princess Poopy Pants is Anna, or rather, Anna is a figment of Princess Poopy Pants' imagination. But where does Carlie come into this? There's no blood tie ...” Marge abruptly stopped pacing, and turned to confront Rita. “You're right. We have to give Princess Poopy Pants an extended period of consciousness … one long enough to see where her developmental cycle ends. Maybe it will turn out that she's Ian's age, which would be a classic case of DID. Or maybe she's still a little girl … two or three years old ...” “And if she turns out to be nine, going on ten?” Rita thought that Marge was doing a brilliant job of scattering the pieces of the puzzle across the table, but she did not want this one to get mislaid. “Then Ian and Carlie are going to have to get very, very drunk-- at which point Vic steps in, and summons the Princess. Carlie takes over … interviews her. We record the whole, damned Q and A, and everybody caught up in this circus sits down to study it-- all in the hope that someone will be able to make sense of what we're hearing.” “So, that's the plan? Pitch Ian overboard for however long it takes to age this Princess of yours? And if she's ten, you pour so much tequila into us that our brains start leaking out of our skulls, yet I'm somehow supposed to remain coherent enough not only to communicate with Anna but conduct a formal interview? This is what you propose to tell your boss tomorrow morning?” Carlie was systematically making eye contact with everyone in the room, hoping that there was at least one person who would object to this insanity. “Yep,” Reiko smiled. “That's the way we roll. A pretty dull Saturday morning … what we call Lessing's Folly.” . . . . “Not what I expected,” Ian commented as he looked around the cafeteria. Driving across campus to the Student Union, Ian and Priscilla had tried to imagine how a cross section of the student body would react when Secret Agent Man got off the escalator and took his place in line to order lunch. Ian had his heart set on a greasy cheeseburger and fries, and he was prepared to demand Ranch dressing even if it triggered a riot. Greasy food, he reckoned, was the only weapon at his disposal to ward off the never ending onslaught of breast milk that Sarah had laid out for his future. If he was going to go down, damn it, he was going to go down fighting. The worst case scenario? Students politically left of center would band together to pelt him with deviled eggs and mushy Brussels sprouts. The best case? They would be ignored by students none the wiser, despite the fact that he was sporting a gaudy sweatshirt proclaiming his promotion from the pedestrian ranks of first year faculty to the exalted status of Fraternity Row Dad (1979). It didn't turn out that way. Sitting on a plush throne obviously “borrowed” from the Faculty Lounge three floors up, at a table surrounded by velvet ropes with a sign overhead ominously proclaiming that it was reserved for diaper thieves, Ian sort of felt like he had dropped into a seedy spaceport bar for a sit-down with Han Solo. But Han didn't have a half dozen gorgeous young sorority girls competing to run off and collect his burger and fries. Han didn't look around, and everywhere see smiling male and female faces looking back at him. Like Led Zeppelin, the band that he idolized, Ian simply felt dazed and confused. “I know it's hard.” Priscilla was gently patting him on the arm, trying to console him. “Being a celebrity on a college campus … being idolized by nubile young maidens lining up to throw themselves at your feet, praying to Aphrodite that they might be chosen to grace your bed ...” “Oh, please.” Ian rolled his eyes, at once deeply honored and deeply embarrassed by the reception that had awaited them. Being escorted to ZAP's table by a handsome young Adonis, an air horn doubling for the trumpets of old-- Ian had to admit that Karen Walsh was going all out to make sure that he didn't welsh on his promise to become the Faculty Advisor to the Panhellenic Council. “So, meetings on the second and fourth Wednesdays of the month during term, mandatory attendance at all keggers and toga parties, and Mel will fill me in on the rest. Is that about it?” With a straight face, Ian was summarizing Karen's somewhat tedious description of a Faculty Advisor's responsibilities. He much preferred his version to hers. Adonis, whose real name was Stan Carmichael, coughed so hard that the Tab he was guzzling ended up all over his bright red sweater. He was the Lamda house delegate to the Council, and he had the hots for Cindy. He couldn't wait to get his hands on her heavily diapered, super sexy butt … and if there was a way to get his hands inside her makeshift chastity belt, he was going to find it. Saturday night couldn't come fast enough. “Dad, you're outrageous,” Melanie tsked. “But,” she added, “that's why you're our Dad! If you're not a few tacos short of a combination plate, you don't belong in ZAP!” “Too right!” Cindy was squirming in her chair, trying to get her diaper to stop pinching the inside of her thighs. Giving up, she jumped to her feet and began jiggling her super sexy butt. Stan Carmichael almost had a heart attack on the spot. Saturday night definitely couldn't come fast enough. “Joyce, we need to borrow Babs for a while.” Not wanting to stir the pot, Priscilla was careful not to address her associate or even glance her way. “I'm meeting Vickie and my Mom for lunch, to begin sorting out the adoption. Ian wants to walk back to get some fresh air, and he has to have a police escort everywhere he goes on campus, especially now that certain groups are out for his scalp. Could you and Babs do the honors? I should be back sometime after one to collect her and hand her over to Carlie.” “What about his diaper?” “Can you and Babs handle it? He needs a diaper check before going down to his twelve thirty class, and if he's poopy someone needs to change him. Everything you'd need is on top of the filing cabinet in his office.” “Not a problem. I changed my baby's dirty diaper this morning; one more won't kill me.” “Good.” Pris reached into her pocket and pulled out the key to Ian's diaper cover. “If you have to leave before I get back,” she said as she handed it over, “you can leave it with Amy. She's one of the secretaries in the main office just around the corner from Ian's. She knows what's what.” . . . . At lunchtime on the last Friday of the month, the delicatessen was a madhouse. Savvy charge nurses like Sarah Haikonnen phoned in orders for their entire department just before the sandwich kings opened for business. Candy stripers, sometimes in twos and sometimes in threes, donned their winter coats and braved the elements. Staggering under the weight of pastrami and reuben sandwiches, chips, potato salad, pickles, brownies and mint bars, they made their way back across the boulevard, through the hospital's winding corridors, up the elevators, to their Nurse's Station. Ravenous RN's, many of them not yet halfway through a twelve hour shift, were known to descend in packs, armed with coffee or iced tea, hoping to steal a minute or two from their demanding schedules to wolf down whatever they could grab. A candy striper risked being trampled if she wasn't quick on her feet, but in Sarah's department they ate well, and they ate for free. Standing at the end of the counter and well out of the traffic flow, Julia Canon was anxiously watching the door. Rita had phoned to let her know that Vickie was on her way, so it was only a matter of time, but to Julia it seemed as if the seconds had turned into hours. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. And then, once more, the door opened, and Vic was there. Spotting Julia, her face lit with joy, and she began edging through the crowd. Unbuttoning her coat, the sunlight streaming through the windows setting her blonde hair on fire, Vickie finally crossed the room. But she was not quite sure what to say to her new Mom. “This will get easier,” Julia whispered as she wrapped her arms around her new daughter and hugged her tight. “But right now, there are just two words that I desperately want to hear … just two.” Julia closed her eyes, waiting. “Hi, Mom.” “Them's the ones,” Julia laughed as she hugged Vic a second time. “Hi, Sweetie … and welcome home. I've got lunch waiting … Rita told me what you like. We'll eat in the office, so we can laugh and cry and chat without embarrassing ourselves. Pris is already here.” Mouthing a thank you to the manager working the cash register, Julia opened the door and ushered Vic inside. Priscilla had been pacing impatiently, but she rushed forward to throw herself into Vickie's open arms. Deliriously happy, the two young women hugged and danced until Julia wrapped her arms around them both. “My two girls,” she somehow managed to get out. “Such a simple thing to say, but God! How good it feels!” “A cop and a shrink get together with a private eye,” Priscilla laughed. “What happens next?” “The private eye leaves a message for the judge, asking him to call her at home tonight. Details must be discussed, the mystery solved: where, and when, shall the adoption occur?” “Two adoptions … two for the price of one!” Priscilla couldn't contain her happiness. “Two? Methinks the mystery deepens!” “Didn't Rita tell you?” “That my little girl likes her reuben toasted, with chips on the side?” “No, Mom! Ian! Bernice is going to adopt Ian!!” “WHAT?” “It's true! Missus Miller is going to adopt Ian! Tell Judge Reynolds that we want a joint ceremony ...” “At the hospital,” Vickie threw out; “or maybe somewhere on campus. We want to celebrate our good fortune with our friends-- and we have lots of friends!” “Done!” Julia began steering the girls to the desk, where the food was already laid out. “Let us eat, and while we dine, let us talk of matters momentous … of diapers, and the old goat too proud to wear them, though the need is great, the private eye's patience at an end!” . . . . “I'm sorry this took so long,” Ian apologized as he opened the door to his office. “I have good days and bad days. This was one of the not so good days.” “You should sit down and rest for a couple of minutes,” Babs advised. “Please, Dad. We can spare a few minutes before changing your diaper and heading down to class.” Joyce was deeply worried, and it showed. Walking away from the Student Union, everything had seemed fine as they approached the overpass that knit the two halves of the campus together. But Ian had slowed walking up the incline, and slowed quite dramatically on the downslope. In obvious pain, he had begun to lean more and more heavily on his cane, but he had never said a word, never cried out. For the first time, the reality of war, and the damage that it might inflict on the young men sent off to fight their country's battles, was staring Joyce Wiggins in the face. Watching Ian struggle, having no idea what if anything she could do to help, her mind kept returning to his last battlefield and the terrible wounds that he had suffered in his determination to leave no one behind. It was the warrior, she grasped with a sudden flash of insight, crippled in a warren of rice paddies half a world away, who was now dragging his body through the urban slush. Her Dad had simply traded in one battlefield for another. One battlefield for another … Inside Babs Patterson's mind, fear and shame were locked in mortal combat. Joyce was looking at her, a hint of desperation in her eyes, the question obvious: What are we going to do? The policewoman in Babs Patterson knew that Professor Grady was in trouble, and she was reviewing their options. Without a walkie talkie in hand, none of them were good. They would have to keep him upright, and hope that a passing stranger could be persuaded to rush ahead and call for help. Fire and Rescue was less than five minutes away, but in the dead of winter, out in the open hypothermia could claim a victim in less than ten. He's not your father … She had called him Diaper Butt in front of the whole bar, and said one terrible thing after another to his face. And he hadn't reacted. He's not your father … Her conscious kept sending the same message, and she had ignored it, doubling down on the insults. He's not your father … His gentleness terrified her. He's not your father … If she opened the gates, allowed one good man inside her defenses, a stampede would follow, and she would be trampled underfoot. He's not your father … She had sank to the floor, humiliated not so much by her defeat as by her stupidity. And he had helped her to her feet and steadied her with one hand while comforting a distraught college girl with the other. And in that moment of total emotional clarity, her world view had collapsed, shards of illusion left scattered across the barroom floor. Her life was little more than a broken mirror. She would not let him fall … that was unthinkable. Once, though badly wounded he had carried a dying soldier across the battlefield. If it came to it, she resolved to carry him on her back, across this frozen wasteland. He's not your father ... . . . . “Again,” Priscilla frowned. “Again,” Julia confirmed. “On the front porch, in front of two of the sorority girls. I had to put newspapers down in the entryway, and undress him there. Honestly, it smelled like we had an untrained puppy in the house. Enough is enough.” “At home, Dad's running to the bathroom every hour or two,” Priscilla explained. “God only knows how he's managing when he's on duty.” “And he gets up to go pee two or three times a night, every night,” Julia fumed. “It's been ages since I got a good night's sleep.” “Has he seen a doctor?” “One of your colleagues across the street … Sharon Villers. Herb has an enlarged prostate. She says that it's commonplace among middle aged men in sedentary occupations. She wants him to get some exercise, and cut back on the drinking. Is he taking her advice?” “Noooo,” Priscilla and Julia said more or less simultaneously. “Sharon's good at her job, and she's conservative when it comes to treatment. He … Dad … Dad shouldn't ignore her. The problem won't go away on its own; it will only get worse. He won't like any of the more aggressive approaches.” “Victoria, I have an idea, but I need to pick your brain. Why are you in diapers?” “Mom, I'm … I've been sexually active since I was fourteen, and I haven't been very picky. This didn't start with the diapers; it started with the locking cover-- my chastity belt. It wasn't practical to run down to Sarah's office every time I needed to use the toilet, so the diapers were the obvious next step. Then we discovered that I respond to being babied, and Sarah discovered that she likes babying me. She loves me, but she also disciplines me. I need both. She's a good Mommy.” “And you use them for both eliminations?” “Yes. I no longer use the toilet.” “Is this causing any problems at work?” “Not really … or maybe I should say, not yet. Sarah and Rita both change me, and the diaper that I'm wearing right now doesn't seem to be drawing any attention. It gets the job done, but it's also discreet.” “Pris, what about you? The diaper you were wearing last night was enormous; did you have trouble getting to sleep with all that bulk between your legs?” “No, Mom.” Priscilla had a sheepish look on her face. “Between the alcohol and being happier than I've ever been in my life, I was on Cloud Nine. Can you believe it? I slept like a baby!” “Which reminds me,” Vickie added. “We're packing up Ian's apartment this afternoon, and we want to take down Pris' bed and move his in. It's a king, and the mattress is good. Will it fit?” “Tight fit.” Julia was mentally walking through Priscilla's bedroom. “But we can make it work. Do my girls want to sleep together when they're home?” “Absolutely!” Pris and Vic were both nodding vigorously. “Only if you are both well and truly diapered,” Julia warned. She was staring hard at Priscilla. “I'm good with that,” Pris quickly conceded. “And then there's the question whether I should wear diapers all the time, just like my sister.” She was staring equally hard at her mother. “You'd be willing to do that?” Julia was dumbfounded. She loved the idea, and not just because she wanted an excuse to spoil both of her daughters in ways that she could never do if they insisted on being treated as mature adults. “If it makes it easier for Vic to be comfortable with us? In a heartbeat! And no, Mom; I'm not being all noble and self-sacrificing. This ends when I go to Quantico, or one of us gets pregnant.” “Good … although I confess that I would very much like to baby you both. And Vickie? I'm eager to start changing your diapers and feeding you your ba bas! Priscilla? Yours, too!” “Then you'll need this.” Vickie fished into her pocket, and pulled out the key to her diaper cover. “For you, Mom,” she blushed as she proudly handed it over. “But you should talk to Mommy Sarah; she will help you put my layette together.” “Tomorrow night? At Rita's?” “Can you come?” Priscilla was ecstatic. “Absolutely … wouldn't miss it for anything!” “But what about Dad? What about … you know … Saturday night at The Pig Sty?” “I've made other plans-- and they involve my two beautiful daughters and their oh, so lovely diapers!” “Mom?” Priscilla smelled a conspiracy in the making, and she was so excited that she was about ready to jump out of her own skin. “I'm going to help myself to one of your maxi pads, Dear. And tonight, I'm going to put my foot down and insist that your father wear it inside his pj's. No more trudging off to the bathroom at two in the morning. He agrees, or he can go sleep on the couch!” “Maxi pads?” Vickie was aghast. “Mom … Mom, it's like asking him to sleep with a loaf of French bread in his underwear. He'll be up all night!” “That's the idea. Then, tomorrow night, when I drop him off at the sorority? He doesn't know it yet, but he's going to be staying the night in Bernice's guest room. He will have two choices: brave another maxi pad, or wear the nice, comfortable diaper and vinyl pants that Bernice has waiting for him. Pris, that's where your diapers come in-- and mine. No more caffeine fueled stakeouts with me desperately holding my bladder until I can get to the nearest Mickey D's! From now on, when I'm freezing my butt off in some high school parking lot, I'm going to be wearing one of Vickie's diapers and a reliable pair of baby pants. And when I have to go? I'm gonna go!” “Mom!” Pris and Vic were both clapping their hands, both seeing what their Mom had in mind. “So you want me to wear diapers not so much to make things easier for Vic, but to help Dad come to terms with his bladder issue?” “That's the general idea,” Julia confirmed, proud as always that her quick thinking daughter had got there before her. “He won't be near as embarrassed if we're all in the same boat.” “And there's no liquor in the house; Bernice has a strict policy, and she doesn't bend it for anyone.” Vickie marveled at the thought that Julia had put into this scheme. “How about that! Sergeant Canon doesn't know it, but he is going to have his first liquor free Saturday night in ages, and he will be sleeping over in The Diaper House!” . . . . Sitting by herself in the hospital cafeteria, Carlie was idly spooning her coffee, a bowl of clam chowder set out in front of her. It was barely touched and cooling rapidly, her thoughts far, far away. Marge's hypothesis made sense to her, and no one in the room had actually rejected it outright. Given that Princess Poopy Pants was as real as Ian, what was to prevent her from summoning Anna out of the depths of her own imagination, and shifting some of her feelings of guilt onto her creation? It makes sense … a lot of sense … There's just one problem … Marge is wrong. Carlie didn't know this to be the case, but she could feel it, and the feeling was incredibly strong. But, she wondered, did it necessarily follow that Reiko had got it right. Were Anna and Princess Poopy Pants not only one and the same, but Ian's daughter? Carlie couldn't answer the question for a very simple reason: Anna had listened attentively to what Marge and Reiko were saying, but she hadn't reacted to either. And that was the moment when Carlie began to doubt her own sanity. She had lied to Ian and Bernice-- to everyone at the kitchen table. Yes, it was true that she had not been able to connect with Anna when Ian awoke at her side, but she had neglected to mention that it was because the little girl was still fast asleep. Not so in the conference room: there she had been wide awake, an invisible presence at Carlie's side. Finding herself trapped for all intents and purposes in her very own, personalized episode of The Twilight Zone, Carlie had followed the raging debate through not one but two pairs of eyes. And Anna had kept her poker face from start to finish. She had given nothing away. Carlie could still sense the child, sitting somewhere behind her, in the shadows in some distant corner of the vast chamber. She was still, and quietly watching as the coffee swirled round and round in the cup, mirroring the chaos in Carlie's mind. And if she were suddenly to turn, Carlie knew that the child would not be there. She had lacked the courage to blurt out the truth in the conference room. She was, after all, inside a securely locked psychiatric ward-- and she very much feared that the truth would not set her free. And so, like Anna, she had kept her silence, donning the mask that she habitually wore when testifying in the courtroom. She had given nothing away. Who was Anna? Ian was more than a mile distant, and her rational mind refused to concede that the child could be in two places at once. Had she somehow transferred her presence from her father … to what? What was Carlie to Anna? What? But there was a third possibility, one that Marge and Reiko had both missed. Did the little girl inhabit her mind? Was she a figment of Carlie's own imagination? Or could it be that, as Ian had so recently discovered, there was a second personality hiding inside Carlie's mind, a presence that something in the air last night at the bar had finally brought out into the open? There were so many possibilities. The coffee had cooled, but the spoon had taken on a life of its own, and tiny waves broke against the edges of the cup, first on one face and then the other. And in the recesses of Carlie Voight's mind, a nine year old child who held the fate of so many lives in her delicate hands curled up into a ball and began to cry, the roaring waves muffling the sound of her tears.

It’s always entertaining to read about your ABDL adventures and reflections. It’s great to see you counting blessings and starting the year with a positive outlook. Wishing you a Happy New Year filled with comfort, joy, and plenty of well-stocked shelves for your "power wall!! As I’ve shared in my own posts, my wife and I are currently facing some fertility challenges as we try to conceive. To improve our chances, I’ve made some adjustments, such as limiting my diaper use to nighttime only to reduce any potential impact of heat. After five years of wearing diapers at night, I’ve developed bedwetting, which has made nighttime diapers a natural and necessary part of my routine. For this year, my greatest wish is not a resolution but a heartfelt hope: to finally welcome a new little member to our family. It would bring so much happiness to my wife, my parents, and me, as we’ve been looking forward to this for quite some time. It would also allow me to return to my normal ABDL routine without needing to prioritize these adjustments. Here’s to a 2025 filled with happiness, health, and the fulfillment of long-awaited dreams!

Out with the girls, Sam gets some new clothes... and more. She's ready to go home but it seems her new friends have more they want to do. --- Commissioned by: diaperboy187 --- 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 ❤️ --- It felt like Sam’s last chance to change her mind. She followed Roxy out of the bathroom but if she went to her next class right then she would probably get away with a mild telling off. Roxy hurried towards an emergency exit door a little further up the corridor, whilst Sam looked back to where the classroom she should’ve been in was. She was sure all of her teachers, her old friends, Isabelle, her real family… hell, even Jess would be telling her to go to class and be the good girl she was supposed to be. She took one step towards the classroom. “Sam!” Roxy hissed from the other direction, “Come on!” Sam turned away from her classroom and hurried as fast as her small legs would take her towards Roxy who was holding the door open. Sam was told to follow Roxy as they went around the back of the buildings to a spot that was pretty well hidden from any prying eyes. Kerry and Jane were already there as Roxy and Sam arrived. “Wow, Sam, you actually came.” Kerry smirked, “What a naughty girl.” “Don’t tease her.” Roxy replied with a giggle, “She’s cool. Right, Sam?” Sam nodded her head but if she was honest she felt wildly out of her depth. The girls started talking and it was topics Sam had basically no experience in and, if she was honest, was making her uncomfortable. The main topic of conversation was sex. “So Mark really won’t go down on you?” Jane asked. “Yeah, he says he doesn’t like it.” Kerry replied rather glumly. “I bet he has no problem with you kneeling between his legs though.” Roxy snorted and shook her head. “If I were you I’d turn off the tap.” Jane said sagely, “Tell him that if he won’t do anything for you then you won’t do anything for him.” Sam’s friends had never talked about sex yet alone so openly and honestly. She was starting to realise just how sheltered her upbringing had been. Her friends were laughing and she joined in just to not stick out. Roxy reached into the handbag she carried around with her everywhere and pulled out a small box, she flipped open the top and Sam let out a little gasp of surprise. “Cigarette?” Roxy asked as she held the box out. Each of the other girls took a cigarette from the small packet and Roxy handed out a lighter. After Kerry and Jane took their first puffs Roxy turned to Sam and after a second of hesitation held out the cigarettes. “I… I don’t smoke.” Sam quickly said. The air in their small hidden space already felt like it was being polluted by the noxious smell of tobacco. “Have you ever tried?” Roxy asked. “Well, no, but-…” Sam started. “Then how do you know you won’t like it?” Roxy asked. Sam was pretty sure she wouldn’t like smoking. She had seen people doing it when she was at school before and had always looked down on them. She had seen people who had smoked for most of their lives coughing violently as they lit up another one. Her mother had been an occasional smoker and the smell had permeated their whole home. “Give her a break.” Kerry laughed, “She’s only little.” Kerry blew some smoke into the air and smirked whilst Jane chuckled to herself. She was leaning back against the wall, cigarette between two fingers and looking out towards the school car park, presumably the place they were most likely to get found from. Sam was on the other side and felt a little boxed in, she hated thinking that way though, these girls were so nice to her and potentially friends. “You should try one.” Roxy said as she held the small packet of cigarettes closer to Sam, “Everyone does it.” Sam recognised the obvious peer pressure she was being faced with. She had always thought she was too strong for it to really affect her, that she was too fiercely independent to get caught up in stuff like that. Yet as she stood with Roxy and the others she could feel a strong force telling her to go along with it. Just one cigarette couldn’t hurt, right? Smoke it to prove you can hang out with this friend group and then you won’t have to do it again. Isabelle would never have to know. “I guess…” Sam said slowly, “Just one.” Sam’s hand shook a little as she took the cigarette. It felt strange between her fingers, slightly soft yet firm. The lighter made a clicking noise as Roxy ignited it and held it out. The end of the cigarette started smoking as it burned orange. “Just put it between your lips, breathe it in and then… out.” Roxy demonstrated as she spoke. She blew the smoke into the air above Sam. Sam put the cigarette between her lips. She breathed it in and almost immediately started coughing and spluttering. The other girls laughed as Sam doubled over, her eyes watered and she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. “Are you alright?” Roxy asked as Sam stood up straight again and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah…” Sam rasped. She looked at the cigarette again. “You’ll get used to it.” Jane said. Sam wasn’t sure she wanted to get used to it. She paused for a moment and then brought the cigarette up to her face again. This time she breathed in the smoke and did a better job of keeping it in for a second before breathing out. It didn’t feel good, her mouth tasted of ash and she felt the heat from the smoke in her lungs. “She’s getting it already.” Kerry said, “She’s a natural!” As the girls all smoked they continued to talk. Sam did her best to blend in but her innocence was pretty obvious to the others. At least they weren’t picking on her, she felt like one of the gang and that felt good. No matter how uncomfortable she felt at times it was worth it to not be an outcast. “My mom’s such a bitch.” Roxy said after a little while, “I saw this super cute top that I wanted to wear for my date with Paul, I bought it with my own money and then she tells me I can’t wear it out just because it showed a little belly.” “Doesn’t she know you’re eighteen?” Kerry asked. “She says as long as I live under her roof I have to abide by her rules.” Roxy shook her head. “So what did you do?” Jane asked. “I took the top with me and changed in Paul’s car.” Roxy laughed, “I wish she could’ve seen me when I had my tits out in front of Paul!” The girls all laughed. Sam knew a lot about having to follow other people’s rules. She was glad she wasn’t the only person who’d had to live with strict caretakers. Though being told not to wear a racy top was a little different from Isabelle’s rules about diapers. “You know, speaking of clothes…” Jane turned to Sam, “This just will not do.” “Huh?” Sam frowned. “You cannot be hanging around with us if you’re dressed like that.” Jane continued with a snort, “You may be kindergartener-sized but you don’t have to dress like one.” Sam looked down at herself. Her clothing was indeed very conservative, it was the same stuff she wore for middle school, and had been picked out by Isabelle. There was no denying it, she wasn’t dressed like the age she was supposed to be. When she compared her pastel colours and soft designs with Roxy and her friends the difference couldn’t be starker. The taller girls’ clothes were darkly coloured and edgy. “Yeah, did your mom pick out your clothes?” Kerry asked mockingly. Sam looked away. Just for something to do she brought the cigarette back between her lips and took another drag. She suppressed a cough as the smoke invaded her lungs. The truth was that Isabelle had picked out all of her clothes. As she was going through elementary and even middle school that had seemed to make sense but in high school it did feel a lot stranger. The conversation moved away from Sam, a fact she was very happy about, and back towards the girls’ preferred topics: sex, gossip and plans to party. Eventually she was saved by the bell, the small bit of the cigarette that was left was dropped to the floor and trodden on in imitation of Roxy next to her. “We’d better get back.” Roxy said as she handed out chewing gum to cover the smell of tobacco, “You know what Mr. James is like…” Sam was happy to get back on more well-known ground for her. Skipping class and smoking were not things she had ever imagined herself doing but she had to admit that, despite the anxiety, she had been having fun. It felt naughty to be doing what she did and she sensed an acceptance from the other girls, it was as if she had proved she could be one of them. As they approached their next classroom Roxy put up a hand and stopped. “Listen, we’re going to the mall after school.” Roxy said, “You should come. We can update your look.” “I don’t know if Isa-… Mom would like that.” Sam replied. “Come on.” Roxy said with a roll of her eyes, “Are you going to do what “Mommy” tells you forever? You’re an adult, right? Why should you have to ask permission?” Roxy didn’t know how right she was, Sam thought wryly. She was certainly an adult, she was actually several years older than the girls she had become desperate to impress. It didn’t feel that way though. “I suppose…” Sam said quietly. “Give me your address and I’ll swing by to pick you up.” Roxy said as she got her phone out. Sam hesitated for a second before giving out Isabelle’s address. Roxy saved it in her phone and then they all walked into class. They were late but Sam’s new friends didn’t seem to care, they just shrugged off the teacher’s disapproving comments. Sam sat beside Roxy at the back of the class. As she was getting her books out she looked over to see Roxy and her two friends touching up their make-up instead. --- “What do you mean you’re going out?” Isabelle asked as Sam took her shoes off. “I’m going out.” Sam answered, “With some friends.” “You’ve made friends already?” Isabelle asked with raised eyebrows. “You don’t have to sound so surprised…” Sam muttered. Sam had only just got in the door. She had taken the bus home and now knew she only had around half an hour before Roxy was going to turn up in her car. She had barely taken her bag off before Isabelle was asking her about her day. She knew it came from a place of concern but Sam was just annoyed by it. “Who are these friends?” Isabelle asked. “Just some girls…” Sam replied with a shrug “Uh huh.” Isabelle grunted. Sam started to climb the stairs. She needed to have a shower and get changed before Roxy arrived. She wanted to be ready as soon as possible, keeping Roxy waiting didn’t seem like a good idea. Not least because Isabelle might go out and start talking to her. “And where are you going?” Isabelle asked from the bottom of the stairs. “To the mall… god…” Sam’s frustration was obvious. Sam felt like an actual teenager again. Wanting to be independent but with a guardian who was hesitant to cut the apron strings. She washed herself and then got dressed in the most grown-up outfit she could find which wasn’t saying much. When she went back downstairs she found Isabelle looking through the living room window at the road with her lips pursed. “I’m not comfortable with you going out with people you only met today.” Isabelle said as Sam lingered in the doorway, “However, I understand that it is important for you to develop a sense of independence.” Sam nodded her head. Looking at the clock she could see Roxy would be pulling up at any minute. She started slipping her shoes back on as she anxiously awaited her friend’s arrival. When she heard a car pull up at the curb she hurried to the door and reached up to pull the handle. “Bye!” Sam called out as the door swung open. “Don’t be back late!” Isabelle walked out to the door as Sam hurried towards the car, “Call me if you need anything! Be safe!” Sam winced with each sentence. Isabelle’s over-protectiveness was clearly funny to Roxy, Kerry and Jane who snorted with laughter as Sam approached the car. The rear door on the vehicle swung open and Sam came to a sudden halt. The girls laughed again as they saw Sam’s reaction. Next to Kerry and Jane there was a toddler car seat, it was nearly identical to the one Isabelle had in her car. “W-What is this!?” Sam stuttered indignantly. “I borrowed it from my mom’s car.” Roxy said. She was grinning wildly, “It’s usually my little brother’s.” “But…” Sam whined. “Come on, it’s just a bit of fun.” Kerry said as she beckoned Sam to get into the car. After everything that had happened Sam didn’t want to just turn her back on the only people in high school who treated her like a normal person. With her cheeks blushing she stepped forwards and climbed into the car. It was a struggle to get into the special seat but Jane assisted her. The straps were done up and Sam did her best to laugh along with the others despite feeling so embarrassed. She certainly didn’t look back at Isabelle. “It does suit you…” Roxy said from the front seat with a little giggle. Everyone laughed. Sam felt a little hurt to start with but remembered when her friends at middle school had laughed in a similar way, it had been with her rather than at her. She tried to relax a little bit and joined in the laughter as best she could. “Alright, let’s get out of here.” Jane said from the seat across from Sam. Roxy reached forwards to the car’s music system which seemed to be hooked up to her phone. She touched something on the screen and music started blaring so loudly that Sam’s automatic reaction was to cover her ears. The fright caused a small trickle of urine to enter her pull-up but it wasn’t enough to be concerned about. She lowered her hands but saw Jane smirking at her reaction. The bass in the music seemed to make the whole car vibrate and conversation was impossible. Roxy pulled the car away from the curb and started speeding down the road at a pace Sam wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She tried to sit back in the seat and relax though it was impossible not to be a little tense with all that was going on. Her legs swung in the air as they were too short to reach the floor and she nervously played with the buckle the straps passed through. She just hoped she would appear cool enough for these girls. Sam couldn’t see out the window of the car, she was too short to do so, but if she could she would’ve seen Isabelle standing at the front door. Sam’s guardian was clearly uneasy with what she was seeing. The girls appeared rough, the music was too loud and the speed they disappeared down the street concerned her. She knew she needed to let Sam have independence, it was perhaps the most important part of Sam’s development. She couldn’t hold the girl’s hand forever after all. The ultimate goal of all this was to allow Sam to go home and have a normal life but the growing pains weren’t over. Sam had always been wilful and rebellious but putting her with these teenagers seemed to really be bringing out that side of her. Isabelle could only hope Sam had the tools to navigate these rough waters. --- Isabelle wasn’t the only person watching Sam leave. In a car further down the road the woman watched with a stony expression. She had seen the girls Sam had been hanging out with, had quickly judged them to be of poor character and known Sam shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near them. It was further evidence, if it were needed, that Sam needed to be back where she belonged. Isabelle was completely failing as a mother. Allowing Sam, the most delicate of babies, to believe she was a big girl was criminal. Letting Sam go off alone with such bad characters was unforgivable. As she watched the car Sam had climbed into pull away from the curb she did the same. Isabelle lingered almost long enough to cause a problem but she turned and stepped inside just as the woman went past. The woman followed the girls and felt her heart race. She was so close to her goal, so close to getting Sam and taking her to the nursery where she belonged. She could’ve spun the car in front out right there. In the confusion she could’ve run over and rescued Sam. With the triggers she could ensure compliance, so much of her work making Sam had been undone but she was sure those triggers remained. They were too deep, their roots too strong, to just be forgotten. The car in front was driven erratically by a driver that was either inexperienced, careless, or both. They drove straight through a stop sign and sped to avoid red lights. Each time something dangerous happened the woman’s grip on her steering wheel tightened. If anything happened to Sam she would never forgive herself, she would never forgive Isabelle for stealing her. This charade had gone on too long. The woman couldn’t wait forever. She would have to bring Sam home soon. The little girl may not understand it right away but in the long run she would be thankful that the woman cared enough to get her back. She would make Sam see that everything she did was to keep her safe. The poor girl couldn’t cope on her own and nothing showed that better than her poor choice of friends. --- You can read the next part of this story RIGHT NOW over on SubscribeStar and Ream: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/lwt7udqa47/chapter/4f9db88d-5730-471d-ae69-6233cabab341 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1653325

Hey all! This is my first ever Commissioned story, and it's brought to you by @PinkTheDinosaur Enjoy! /////////////////////// "What do you mean we only get one wish!?" The warrior Vellna demanded of the genie. "It was my understanding that one usually gets three wishes, do they not?" Said Ruppert the mage. The two adventurers had stumbled upon a cave guarded by goblins. After slaying a few, barely, and sneaking past a lot more, they found a room the goblins had been using to store their treasure. Of course, most of what goblins considered “treasure” would more accurately qualify as garbage to humans. But Rupport was able to use a Magical Sight spell to spot the one item of value amongst a mountain of junk–an enchanted lamp. “Hear me, mortals,” the genie began, ”There are many types of genies spanning across the grand cosmos. Some grant three wishes, others can grant unlimited wishes. I myself, am lower in rank among my brethren, and may only grant a single wish.” “So which one of us gets it?” Vellna asked. “Obviously I do, since I touched it first.” said Ruppert. “Nuh-uh! I touched it first!” “You most certainly did not!” “SILENCE!!!” commanded the genie. Vellna and Ruppert both obeyed and stood still as statues. “In my infinite wisdom, I have seen fit that the only fair course of action is this: Each of you tell me your desire, and I shall grant what you seek with a single spell.” The two humans looked at each other and then shrugged. “I guess that works,” said Vellna. “I desire power!” Ruppert blurted out. Vellna sighed and rolled her eyes, “Well THAT'S certainly not ambiguous at all!” The mage shrugged, “With more power, I can achieve anything I want. Your turn.” Vellna leaned on her battleaxe, pondering her wish. It took a good long while before she finally announced, “I have decided I wish for… A companion! Someone who is strong and capable in battle, but will also help take care of our needs outside of combat.” she got a dreamy look on her face, ”Someone who cares for us and will keep us safe, who enjoys doing the mundane tasks I find aggravating like cooking and laundry, and is completely loyal and devoted to our team!” It was Ruppert's turn to scoff, “So you want some kind of battle-butler?” The genie began to glow with powerful magic, rising even higher into the air with his lamp. “IT SHALL BE DONE!!!” He said before clapping his hands and disappearing flash of light, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke in his wake. They coughed to clear the smoke from their lunges. “Well? *cough* Do you feel more powerful?” Vellna asked. “... Not particularly?” Ruppert answered. “And where is this companion of yours-” His voice cut off as the smoke coalesced into a figure–a woman, tall and beautiful, garbed in a red dress and fine jewels. “WHO HAS SUMMONED ME FROM-” the strange woman's eyes fell upon the two adventurers. Vellna and Ruppert both stood frozen, too afraid to move or speak. The strange woman's face turned from a scowl to a smile of delight. “My! Aren't you two adorable!” Their jaws went slack as they looked at each other in confusion. Ruppert got his voice back first, “I'm sorry, what?” In a flash, the woman snatched up both Vellna and Ruppert and squeezed them in a suffocating bear hug. “You have got to be the CUTEST little adventurers I've seen in centuries!” the woman exclaimed in delight. All Vellna and Ruppert could do was struggle in her iron grasp, gasping for breath until she released them, and they both took a big gulp of air. “Who… Are… You?” Vellna managed to ask, catching her breath. The woman smiled down at the girl, “My true name is a closely guarded secret. You may call me Agnis. Now, where are your guardians?” “Guardians?” Ruppert asked, “I don't know what you mean.” Agnis got an alarmed look on her face, “You mean you are out here all alone in this cold, cold world?” “I mean… I guess?” Vellna answered. “It's just been the two of us for a while now.” Agnis gasped in shock, causing Vellna to flinch, “You poor little things! How could anyone be so cruel as to abandon you in the wilderness like this!?” Ruppert cocked his head, confused, “Nobody *abandoned* us out here-” “No! This is unacceptable.” Agnis said, cutting him off, “I will not leave defenseless hatchlings out here to die.” “Hatchlings?” Vellna asked, confused. Agnis pondered for a moment before snapping her fingers, “Babies! That is the word your people would use. From now on, you shall be my babies!” Ruppert scoffed, “We're not babies!” “Yeah! We're not babies!” Vellna echoed. Agnis chuckled, “You are both so cute! I will enjoy being your Mommy, little ones.” “Mommy!?!?” they both gasped simultaneously. She thought for a second again, “Yes, this is the right word I believe.” Vellna shook her head, “Look Agnis, I don't know who you think you are-” Agnis cut her off by putting a hand on the girl's armor, “Who dressed you this way? That can't possibly be comfortable, little one. And it's rusty even!” Vellna blinked, “I mean, it's not *supposed* to be comfortable… It's supposed to protect me against damage, and it's all I could afford…” Agnis tisked, “This will not do. No child of mine will be caught running around dressed like that! And where is your… What is the word…” Vellna and Ruppert looked at each other, unsure of what she could mean. “... Diaper! That is the word. Surely you cannot be without one?” Their eyes went wide, mouths agape in shock. “I think you might have the wrong word again, Agnis-” Ruppert began before getting cut off by the woman suddenly sweeping Vellna off her feet and depositing her gently onto the cave floor. “Hey!!!” Vellna cried out at being manhandled so effortlessly. “Now, let's see what Mommy has for you, sweetie,” said Agnis as she held one hand to the side. A sudden burst of flame materialized into a multi-colored satchel. Vellna was startled by the flames, but Ruppert was fascinated to find that their new companion could do magic. Agnis opened the satchel and dug inside before producing a single object: a white, fluffy diaper that was too big for a real baby but probably just the right size for… “W-wait! I don't need that!!!” Vellna shouted, trying to scoot away, only for Agnis to catch her by the ankle and pull her back. “Nonsense, no child of mine will go around making messes everywhere. It's unsanitary and quite rude.” Agnis said. “Ha! I guess it was the right word after all!” Ruppert laughed. “Now let's start by getting that rusty old thing off of you,” said Agnis before swiping a finger down the front of the chainmail. Instantly, the armor split in half as if cleaved by a great sword, leaving her upper body covered only by a bra. “What the-!?!?” Vellna exclaimed in shock. “Fascinating! How did you do that?” Ruppert asked. Agnis didn't bother answering him, keeping her focus on Vellna. She tugged at the girl's trousers off next, this time without the need for slicing. As soon as her legs were freed from the pants and Vellna was left in just her underwear, she started kicking at Agnis with all her might, “GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!” The girl might as well have been kicking a brick wall for how much effect it had, but it did cause Agnis to scowl and grab Vellna's legs. “Naughty girl! If you're going to struggle, Mommy will have to punish you!” In a single swift motion, Agnis flipped Vellna over and pinned her down with one hand, raising the other hand high before bringing it crashing down on the girl's bottom. “OWW!” Vellna squealed. Agnis rained down spank after spank on the girl's bottom, causing Vellna to thrash around, “Oww! Stop! Cut it out! Ah! Ow! OW! Ruppert! Do something!!!” The mage shrugged, “Like what? Tackle her to the ground? I think I would have more luck trying to move a mountain. This is entirely your problem.” Vellna groaned in frustration. She tried to fight the pain, tried desperately to escape the grasp of this strange woman, but it was no use, and soon, the girl was reduced to a bawling, quivering mess. “Okay! Stop! Please! I'll… I'll wear the diaper! I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!!!” Thankfully, Agnis ceased her assault on the girl's reddened cheeks. “Good. I hope you learned your lesson: Never fight back against Mommy.” she said before gently rolling the girl back over to her original position. Vellna winced as her butt made contact with the ground, but was well beyond any further protest, even as Agnis hooked a finger under the girl's panties, said, “You won't be needing these anymore,” and with a flick of her wrist, sliced them off of Vellna's body. Ruppert watched in silence, both fascinated at the capabilities of this strange woman and feeling a sort of sadistic glee at watching his partner get put in her place. Agnis lifted the girl's legs and slid the diaper underneath her butt. Vellna couldn't deny that she was a little glad for the soft padding replacing the hard cave floor. In a few more moments, the front was pulled up over the girl's privates and taped into place. “There we go,” Agnis said, helping Vellna to her feet before wrapping the girl in a hug. “Mommy doesn't like to punish you, sweetie. Are you going to behave for me moving forward?” Vellna sniffled, choking back a hiccuping sob, “Y-yeah…” The woman smiled, releasing her from the embrace. “Good girl.” she turned towards Ruppert, “Your turn, baby boy.” Ruppert's face went white as a ghost. “Now hold on… Let's not do anything too hasty…” “I wouldn't try to resist her if I were you,” Vellna said, rubbing her sore bottom. “It won't end well.” Begrudgingly, Ruppert inched his way towards Agnis. “Y-you're not gonna destroy my robe, are you? It's uhh, it's very comfy! I like it a lot! Don't know what I'd do without-aahhhhh!” He was suddenly cut off by Agnis sweeping him off of his feet. “No need to tear your robe, baby boy.” she lifted the skirt of his robes up and out of the way, revealing a pair of tighty not-so-whities. “These, however, have definitely got to go.” “Wow Ruppert, maybe you *do* need diapers?” His face contorted in embarrassment, “Hey! Those stains are merely the dirt and mud that comes with traveling out in the wilderness! They are perfectly normal stains!” Agnis didn't comment but simply slashed the undergarments away like before. Immediately, Ruppert's hands shot down to his privates, shielding them from Vellna. “Aren't you going to look away!?!?” he pleaded with his partner. “Why should I? You didn't look away when *I* was getting diapered. Besides,” she grinned maliciously, “It's not like you have much to hide down there anyway.” Agnis grabbed his wrists and lifted his hands away from his crotch, leaving him completely exposed. He tried desperately to bring his hands back down, but her grip was as unyielding as iron. She raised a questioning eyebrow down at him, “Are you going to be a good boy?” Immediately, he stopped trying to resist her. He opened his palms in surrender, turning his head away from Vellna. “Fine, just get it over with…” Ruppert's diapering may not have been as painful as Vellna's, but the shame alone was almost enough to cause tears to stream down his face anyway. It only took a few agonizingly humiliating moments for Agnis to tape the diaper onto Ruppert's hips and help him stand up, pulling the boy into a hug just as she had with Vellna. “There we go. That wasn't so bad, was it?” Ruppert was too humiliated even to bother responding. Vellna meanwhile, had retrieved her trousers and just managed to pull them up over the diaper, frowning as the waistband still peaked over the top of the pants, revealing her babyish undergarments to the world. Even if she had a top she could pull down over it, the bulge from the padding was still pronounced. There would be no hiding this diaper from anyone. Vellna looked over at Ruppert once his hug with Agnis had broken. The mage's robe his diaper–much to Vellna's annoyance. But his gait had a much more awkward waddle to it now. She looked down at herself, trying to close her legs and finding the task impossible, and realized she would probably be doing a fair bit of waddling herself. The warrior girl looked up at the woman in red–this mysterious Agnis who seemed to think of herself and Ruppert as babies for some reason–and wondered if she had made a terrible mistake with her wish. /////////////////////// Fun fact, Vellna is one of Pink's OCs whom I decided to use for this story. You can find her art here: https://www.deviantart.com/pinkthedinosaur/art/Vellna-Henton-801231990 If you have a story that you'd like to see me bring to life, you can find my Commission details below. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sKl8NUcpBs609wHqywGSDg-kJRxo219SKblZA5r1GEk/edit?usp=drivesdk

Attached is my class presentation that has a basic guide to DIY along with a quick breakdown of the build designs I used to build the Crib, changing table, highchair, baby gym, and a forcefeeding gag for my nursery. I am working or rewriting all of these along with some of my newer designs and creating a guidebook, but I thought this might be helpful in the meanwhile. Capcon presentation 2024.pdf

Thank you for your feedback! Yes. Charlotte's brain does adapt as she gets younger. But as you notice, her inner self is well aware of these changes and tries to remind her physical self, creating a sense of urgency to "solve the mystery". Yes. It would be fun to regress to a younger age. But if your wish was granted, you wouldn't want it to go beyond 15 to 20 years like Charlotte... 😀 I like to think of it as Charlotte's ignorance of what brands would be the best to handle her incontinence. That, and a rather messy reality shift... 😀 Everyone, I am finally able to get back to this story. Christmas is done. New Years is done. It should now be back to the normal schedule. While I can't guarantee a new chapter right away, look for one in the not so distant future... 😀

Chapter 51: Princess Pullups Hannah groaned, squirming in discomfort as she heard Naomi’s thoughts. Miss Kaylee consoled Hannah, “Hey, it’s okay, relax, you’re safe.” Miss Kaylee, of course, had no clue what Hannah’s concerns truly were. Hannah glanced around, most of her vision obstructed by Miss Kaylee’s breasts. Her eyes met Miss Kaylee’s, who smiled down at Hannah. Hannah sighed, closing her eyes; it was better not to look. ‘What do you want?’ Hannah demanded of Naomi. ‘Me? I want to help you become the best baby you can be! Although, you seem to be doing very well.’ Naomi giggled. ‘Of course I am doing well! I don’t need your help.’ Hannah thought stubbornly. Naomi giggled again, ‘I can see that; I’m here to help.’ Hannah scowled, realizing she had played into the girl’s hand. Thankfully, though, Naomi retreated as Hannah finished both Miss Kaylee’s breasts. Miss Kaylee burped Hannah, sitting Hannah in her lap and facing the table as Miss Kaylee ate some warmed-up lasagna. Daddy smiled at Hannah, “How was that sweetie? What do we say?” Hannah flinched, realizing he wanted her to thank Miss Kaylee. She begrudgingly glanced up, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “Thank you.” Miss Kaylee smiled, patting Hannah’s diapered crotch, “You are very welcome; the best part is I don’t have to pump!” she giggled as she continued eating. Hannah wanted to despise the woman, but she had been nothing but pleasant to Hannah on top of feeding her. A thought crossed Hannah’s mind, “Aren’t you going to miss your cruise back?” she asked. Miss Kaylee nodded, “Already did; the boat left port last night. I got travel insurance, though; they’ll fly me home once I’m done here. I already let them know we had a medical emergency.” Hannah raised an eyebrow, “What medical emergency?” Miss Kaylee shrugged, “I didn’t have one, but they aren’t going to ask till I get home. However, you presented me with the perfect excuse. A friend asked me to stay, knowing I donated milk because their Little was fed only milk, and their Mommy passed away.” she said with a wink. “That’ll work?” Hannah asked skeptically, glancing around the room, “Speaking of, where’s Thomas?” “It’ll be fine; I doubt they will ask more; they may ask for my donation card. As for Thomas, he’s taking a nap.” Miss Kaylee reported. “Does this change anything, with, ya know,” Emily asked Daddy, changing the topic and nursing a bottle of juice. Miss Kaylee gave her a curious look, “With what?” Daddy sighed, “I suppose you have the right to know; they aren’t my adopted Littles; they are here on contract.” Miss Kaylee glanced between the girls, “They aren’t yours?” Hannah didn’t miss the crestfallen look on Daddy’s face as he shook his head. “No, they agree with the Little Integration School system; once they have five school days, they return home.” Hannah felt a stab of guilt, Miss Kaylee looking between them and Daddy, a look of hurt on her face as well, “Oh, I see; I’m sorry, Welby, I didn’t know.” “It’s fine.” Daddy said, trying to put on a brave face for Hannah and Emily, smiling, “I want what’s best for them at the end of the day.” “Do you two want to go back home?” Miss Kaylee asked, glancing at the girls. “I don’t think we were prepared to give up our entire lives just yet,” Emily said after a few moments of silence. Hannah shook her head, “No, we weren’t.” The silence made Hannah’s throat clench, glancing nervously around the table. “Besides,” Daddy said, clearing his throat, “Even if they were to stay, they would have a contractual obligation to be continuously retested until they could return home.” Miss Kaylee nodded, “Well, I suppose we should help you two get ready to go home.” Hannah felt ashamed, “But we still have another day.” Daddy offered her a smile, “You did, at Little Meadows Daycare; that’s their building here in this town.” Emily cocked her head to the side, glancing at Hannah, “Wasn’t that the name of the place Mommy took us to?” she asked. Daddy nodded, “It was; I believe she was trying to complete that portion of your contract, which would free her to take you wherever she wanted; as long as she proved you couldn’t pass the adult test, she would have near complete custody.” Hannah shivered, realizing she had been only a few hours away from disappearing for good. “Wait, so, we can go home?” she asked. Daddy gave her a nod, but she could see the pain in his eyes, “You can.” he said. Emily and Hannah shared a look, realizing their freedom was nearly upon them. They could go home; they could go back to their families, and they could be free of the Amazons and their crazy government and rules. “What about this test, though?” Emily asked nervously. “You both need to prove you can care for yourselves before you can go home, feed yourselves, dress yourselves, and most importantly, prove you’re potty trained.” Miss Kaylee said. Hannah’s heart clenched, “I don’t know if…” Hannah’s brow furrowed. Daddy gave her a soft smile, “It’s okay; it should pass; you should regain control before too long. We’ll help. If that’s what you want.” Hannah glanced at Emily, and the girls shared a look. “It is.” Emily finally said as Hannah nodded, “We need to return home; we have unfinished business to attend to.” Hannah saw the look of pain flash across Daddy’s face before he could stop it, “Of course, once we get you back home, it’ll finish the contract as well, freeing you two of further obligations and allowing you to take on something new, should you want.” Emily glanced at Daddy, “What do you mean? Something new?” Daddy gave a wry smile, “Well, that would mean, should you ever want to come visit me, we could draw up something that better befits us, protects you from the likes of Laura, and still allows you two to be my baby girls.” Hannah and Emily shared another look, “Really?” Hannah asked, “We could come visit you?” “Why not?” Daddy laughed, “I can’t come to visit you, but you could pop by; I’m not planning on going anywhere. Besides, I need to establish myself at work and learn the local area and whatnot. By the time you visit, I’ll have a better hang of things, and you’ll have a much better time.” “There’s Tiny Tush Kingdom!” Miss Kaylee grinned, “It’s similar to a park you have back on Earth; what’s the name…” “This knee land or something?” Daddy said. “Yeah, something like that!” Miss Kaylee nodded, grinning. The girls remained puzzled, staring at one another. “You know the park, right?” Miss Kaylee asked. “This knee land?” Hannah asked, slowly sounding it out, “Wait, do you mean Disneyland?” “Yeah! That’s what I said!” Miss Kaylee giggled, stroking Hannah’s hair. Hannah and Emily shared a look before bursting out in laughter. “Ohh no, what did I say?” Miss Kaylee grinned. Hannah held up her leg, pointing to her knee, “THIS knee!” she and Emily burst into another fit of giggling. “It’s Disney.” Hannah spelled it out, “It’s a man’s name.” “Ohh!” Miss Kaylee laughed, “I wondered; it was an odd name for a park.” Daddy chuckled, “We’ll make it a date next time you two come around, but we got to get you back home first.” “Far better than THAT knee park!” Emily squealed. Their laughter eventually faded as Daddy rolled his eyes, chuckling and scooping both girls into his arms, “I’m going to get these chuckle busters a bath.” he told Miss Kaylee. Daddy carried both girls into the bathroom, still giggling madly as he plopped them on the changing table, undoing diapers and cleaning them again. Despite being changed not too long ago, Hannah had soiled her diaper, requiring more work on Daddy’s behalf. Having finished cleaning Emily up, Daddy turned, pulling out a small cushioned donut seat for the toilet and plopping Emily on it. “If you are going home, you should use the potty; go potty, hun.” Emily blushed but, after a moment, was able to relieve herself. Daddy nodded approvingly, wiping and adding her to the tub as it slowly filled. He turned his attention to Hannah, placing her on the toilet next. Hannah felt her cheeks blushing brightly, sitting before Daddy, being told to go potty like a child. It was one thing to use her diapers; it was a whole different game using the toilet like this. Hannah managed a trickle, although she wasn’t sure if it was just her body going or if she had consciously chosen to. Either way, she was wiped down and added to the bath beside her sister. Daddy didn’t waste any time, beginning to clean his girls, lathering their hair and washing their bodies. “Are you sad to see us go?” Hannah asked curiously. “Of course I am.” Daddy responded immediately, “I’ve grown very fond of you both; I love you two. But, a good Daddy respects his girl's wishes, as long as they are reasonable.” “This isn’t goodbye.” Emily smiled, “We will come back for you.” Daddy returned her smile, “I know you will, and we can still chat; it’s rather rudimentary. We can send letters, but it’ll let us plan your next trip! Besides, as much as I love you two, I don’t have someone I could regularly keep you with while I’m at work; you’d end up in daycare most of the day; that’s not how I want to spend time with you two, I want to be there to love and nurture you.” Hannah felt a stab of guilt at leaving Daddy, but she knew he was right, “We’ll schedule vacations together.” she smiled, “We can write every day!” Daddy chuckled, “I don’t think the mail service is that fast, but we will undoubtedly correspond regularly. We’ll add more safeguards for your next trip so you don’t have to worry about rogue Mommy’s coming after you.” he teased, rinsing the conditioner from Hannah’s hair. Hannah giggled, although she felt panic circulating at the mention of the woman, her mind flashing back to the taxi cab and being kidnapped. “Maybe avoid taxis next time.” “Done,” Daddy said, rinsing both girls and wrapping them in big, fluffy towels. Daddy carried the girls to the nursery, passing Ash and Miss Kaylee, “Ash’s turn!” Miss Kaylee reported, entering the bathroom, they had just left. Daddy laid Hannah on the changing table and quickly got her diapered in a thick, overnight diaper before repeating the process with Emily. “Aren’t you supposed to help us get potty trained?” Emily asked curiously. Daddy nodded, “Yes, baby girl, we’ll have the baby monitor on. You can call us if you wake up and need to go potty.” Emily nodded as Daddy changed her before adding both girls to the crib. “Alright, you two. Do you need anything else before going to sleep?” The girls shared a glance before shaking their heads. Daddy smiled, kissing them on their foreheads, “If you think of anything, just call for us.” “Okay, Daddy,” Emily said as he turned and left the room, leaving the light on. Hannah imagined it was to allow Miss Kaylee to dress Ash and get her ready for bed. She assumed Ash would be taking the bed. “Are we really going home?” Hannah asked. “It seems like it,” Emily said, lying down. Hannah laid down as well, feeling Emily embrace her, pulling the blanket over them. “We’ll be free to do whatever we want again,” Hannah said with mock cheerfulness. “We can do anything we want, eat anything, wear whatever, anything,” Emily said, smiling. “All we have to do is go to work, pay bills, clean the house, do chores, and pay our taxes.” Hannah droned, “Being an adult sucks.” Both girls giggled. Emily pulled Hannah in ever so slightly tighter, “If nothing else, I know I gained one of the best friends I’ll ever have.” Hannah grinned, “Is that what I am to you? A friend?” “Maybe with benefits.” Emily giggled, patting Hannah’s crotch. “We’ll see where things go once we get back; I think we both need some time to decompress.” “You can say that again.” Hannah chuckled. The girls heard footsteps as Miss Kaylee entered the nursery, carrying a naked Ash wrapped in a fluffy towel. She laid Ash on the changing table and swiftly got her into an overnight diaper before dressing her in cute-looking pajamas and depositing her in bed. “Now, same rules to you as the girls: if you need to go potty, you ask one of us to help, okay? You are still in the body of a Little for now.” Miss Kaylee instructed Ash. “Okay, yes, ma’am,” Ash replied, settling herself under the covers. “Good girl, does anyone need anything?” Miss Kaylee asked, checking on the girls. Miss Kaylee pursed her lips, seeing neither girl had pacifiers and pushing one into each of their mouths. Thankfully, she didn’t lock them, but also didn’t honestly give them a chance to respond. “You three sleep well, okay?” she said, standing and turning out the overhead light, a nightlight flickering the life. “Do you think we’ll be able to pass the test?” Hannah asked Emily quietly. Emily shrugged, not that Hannah could see, “I don’t know, maybe.” Hannah heard Ash turn over, “I mean, are either of you wet right now?” “Of course not; I was just changed,” Emily said. “You should be fine then, most likely.” Ash shrugged, “What about you, Hannah?” “I…” Hannah trailed off, her fingers going to her crotch, Emily’s fingers joining her, finding that her diaper was, indeed, already wet. “Only a little bit.” “That may be a problem.” Ash sighed. Hannah was growing increasingly worried about this text; what would she do if she failed? From the sounds of it, she would be allowed to retest after some time, but that would mean she would have to stay behind while Emily left. Emily pulled Hannah’s head to her chest, cuddling her, “It’s okay, we will figure it out.” Hannah nodded weakly, eventually drifting off into a restless slumber. Hannah awoke later, feeling Emily stirring beside her, calling out softly. Hannah eventually heard footsteps approaching, and Daddy, tired and looking, entered the room. “Yes, sweetpea?” he asked. “I need to go potty,” Emily said, blushing. Hannah blinked tired eyes, sitting up as Daddy opened the closet and pulled out a small, pink toddler potty before gathering Emily in his arms. His fingers felt her diaper before releasing it and plopping her on the potty. She blushed madly, looking up at him, “Can’t I use the regular toilet?” she asked, embarrassed. “You’ll be tested on something like this.” Daddy said tiredly, “Better you get used to it now.” Emily sighed, blushing madly, and after a few moments, Hannah heard her relieve herself. Ash awoke from the noise and sat up, and Daddy offered her the opportunity to go as well. Ash nodded her head weakly, and after Daddy rediapered Emily, he plopped Ash in her place. Ash rediapered and went back to bed. Daddy came to Hannah, “What about you, pumpkin?” he asked, feeling her soaked diaper. “I don’t need to go,” Hannah admitted, pouting. Daddy nodded, “It’s okay, sweetheart, we’ll try tomorrow; they aren’t going to test your ability to hold it overnight, thankfully.” Daddy yawned, taking the potty away and dumping its contents before turning out the nursery lights and leaving the girls to sleep once more. Hannah nestled back into Emily, who wrapped her arm around her and fell back asleep in moments. The following day, Hannah awoke to the sound of activity in the nursery. She blinked sleep-filled eyes, rolling over to see Emily on the pink princess potty once more. Miss Kaylee was helping her this time. Emily grinned as she stood up, clearly proud of herself, and Miss Kaylee heaped praise upon her. Miss Kaylee took something from the changing table, unfolded it, and offered it to Emily to step into. Hannah realized with a start that it was a pull-up with a princess on the front. Emily eagerly stepped inside, letting Miss Kaylee pull it into place. While it was a pull-up, it was still bulky, and Emily’s legs bowed to the side to accommodate the bulk. Ash was wearing something similar, and Hannah could swear the girl was several inches taller, the pullup around her hips more snug than it was on Emily. Miss Kaylee turned her attention to Hannah, scooping her up. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” she asked, immediately feeling Hannah’s heavily drenched diaper. Hannah nodded sheepishly as Miss Kaylee laid her on the changing table. “I did, thank you.” Miss Kaylee smiled, opening Hannah’s diaper and cleaning her up before it was Hannah’s turn to sit on the pink potty. Hannah felt as if everyone in the room were looking at her, and she was mortified to be so exposed. After several long minutes, she shook her head; she just couldn’t go. Miss Kaylee nodded, sighing and scooping Hannah back up. “It’s okay, sweetie; let’s get you back into a diaper.” Hannah was laid back on the changing table, and Miss Kaylee grabbed the thick, overnight diaper Emily had worn to bed, still dry, and prepared to fit Hannah into it. “Wait, aren’t I going to get a pull-up too?” Hannah asked as Miss Kaylee began changing Hannah. “Let’s see how this goes first. They don’t hold much compared to diapers, and you haven’t been able to make it to the potty even once yet. Let us know when you need to go, and we’ll help you.” Miss Kaylee reported, pulling the thick diaper into place. Hannah blushed, knowing it had been her sister's diaper. It was still clean and dry, but the idea of wearing it made Hannah’s heart flutter. “Yes, Miss Kaylee,” Hannah replied. “Good girl.” Miss Kaylee said, lifting Hannah into her arms, “Now, let’s get you three fed.” Miss Kaylee led Ash and Emily from the nursery. Hannah was the only one dressed in diapers, while both Ash and Emily were dressed in pajamas as they entered the kitchen. Daddy had already prepared breakfast, pancakes, fruit, and sausages. He added Emily to her high chair, going to do the same to Ash, and realized the fit was far snugger than it had been the day before. Daddy chuckled, pulling a booster seat into place over one of the dining chairs and strapping her in there instead. “It seems you are regrowing!” he reported. Ash beamed with excitement as she dug into her food. Miss Kaylee hadn’t yet added Hannah to her high chair, so she took a pancake and offered it to her. Hannah took it, gingerly taking a small bite, finding it harsh to the tongue, her face contorting in disgust. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as yesterday, but it still tasted vile. Miss Kaylee chuckled, settling into a chair of her own and pulling her nursing bra out of the way, “I was worried about that.” she replied, pulling Hannah to her breast. Hannah sighed and, for the hopefully last time, latched on and began to nurse. End of Chapter 51 Thank you for the kind words! ❤️❤️ Hopefully the rest of the story lives up to the HYPE!

5 - Ambush The women's dorm at Hull College at fourteen stories was the tallest building on campus, and in fact the tallest building in town. Each floor had a central service core with elevators and stairs, a large shower room, two kitchenettes, a library and a lounge, and similar infrastructure. The bottom two floors served as the student center and the student cafeteria. Three arms extended from the central core, each with four single and six double rooms. Thus each arm accommodated sixteen young women and each floor held just under fifty students. Two pairs of the double rooms on each hall were highly prized suites, since each one had a small living room or lounge, called a sitting room in the college brochures, along with a bathroom with a toilet, two sinks, and a stall shower. The bathroom had two doors, one into the suite's common room and the other onto the main corridor down the arm, making the bathrooms into a shared facility, though each was mostly used by the girls in its suite. Curiously, the men's dorm was housed in two much shorter octagonal buildings. Each building was a short distance from the women's tower and from one another. From a good distance away, and an altitude only achieved from an airplane, the three dorm buildings looked as if the architect had been playing an obscene joke on Hull College. ----- After her French class, Lisa returned to her dorm room on the seventh floor. "Hey, Jane," said Lisa Wagner to her roommate, "I'm going online to order some supplies. You need anything?" "Um, yeah," replied Jane Thurber, "I think I do. Let me look in my underwear drawer and see how I'm doing." "OK," said Lisa, "Oh, look, there's a discount of eight percent if we order more than twenty-five dollars worth of stuff." "Hey, cool," responded Jane. She rummaged around in the second drawer of her dresser. "I could use two packages of daytime disposables for sure. And some wipes. And two jars of rash cream. And a big can of powder plus a little one that I can put in my purse." "Hold on, there, cowgirl," laughed Lisa, "I can't keep up with you. I lost you after wipes." "Two jars of rash cream and some cans of powder. A big one for in here and a small one to carry in my bag for changes when I'm away from the room," repeated Jane. "Um, OK, I got all that," replied Lisa. "Hey, look at this special. They have a bunch of new diaper cover designs." Jane came over to Lisa's desk and peered at the computer screen over her shoulder. "That's pretty," Jane said, "Can you make it bigger?" "I think so. Let me click on it," said Lisa. "The lace shirring on the seam and across the seat on that one is very pretty," remarked Jane. "What colors do they have them in?" "Um," said Lisa, "let's see ... pink, white, ecru, robin's egg blue, and, oh my gosh, ... black! But the black ones don't have the lace." "Black! Oh, really? That's like totally weird," exclaimed Jane. "Who would wear black? It would show through almost anything." "Like really," agreed Lisa. "I bet they won't sell any of those." "What are you going to get," asked Jane. "My plastic panties are all wearing out, so I'm going to get a bunch. Half a dozen pairs of white for day-to-day plus a few pink and blue for parties and stuff. And I'm going to get one pair of black just to see what they're like." "Naughty girl! I know who you're going to wear them for," teased Jane. Lisa blushed. "Stop that! Anyway, my rule with my boyfriend is no touching below the waist," Lisa asserted primly. "No touching doesn't mean no peeking," challenged Jane. "Stop it, Jane," exclaimed Lisa, "you're getting me all bothered." "Sorry," relented Jane, "anyway, I could use a couple of pink and blue myself. What sizes do they come in?" "Let's look," said Lisa, clicking on a web link. "It looks like in addition to the usual of hips and waist, they have nighttime and daytime sizes." "Nighttime and daytime? What's the difference?" inquired her roommate. "According to this, the nighttime sizes are somewhat fuller. To accommodate night time diapers and soakers," Lisa reported. "Gee, that makes sense. I double up my fitted cloth diapers for overnight and that works great. Single for daytime and double for nighttime," said Jane. "I thought you are buying disposables for the daytime," said Lisa. "Well, if I think there's a danger of pooping I'll wear a disposable. If I don't think there's any danger, like if I've pooped recently, then I prefer the fitted cloth things. They're quieter and more comfortable," replied Jane. "I really hate to soil my pants." "I know what you mean," nodded Lisa. "When I wet, only I know about it and I can deal with it whenever I like. But when I poop my panties I have to take care of it right now and everyone can smell what happened." "You said it," agreed Jane. "Oh, look at that," gushed Lisa, "they have some special designs for the overnight sizes. Awwww, they're really cute!" "Lemme see," said Jane, returning to her position looking over Lisa's shoulder. "Aw, you're right, they're really cute. Little pictures of stuffed animals on that one. And bottles and pacifiers on those. Ooh, and rocking horses! Hey, look, there's a nursery prints sampler with one of each! Get me one of those, would you?" "Sure. I'm going to get a set too. They're so cute," enthused Lisa. "Great," said Jane. "Are you going to put it on your credit card? I'll write you a check. How much is my share?" "After I send the order," said Lisa, "I'll put it all in a spreadsheet and add it up and share it to you. Just leave the check on my desk." "OK," agreed Jane, "how long will it take for this stuff to arrive?" Lisa Wagner clicked submit on her web browser. "OK," she said, "that order will arrive in a week. We'll be set for the rest of the semester." She reached down under her skirt and probed her diaper with her index finger. Not very wet, she thought to herself, I can wait to change until after TV studio lab this afternoon. ----- Lisa dumped her notebook on the desk in her room and headed into the suite bathroom. Lisa could feel the pressure in her lower abdomen that told her that it was time for her to sit down on the toilet because a poopy accident was not far in the future otherwise. Like the rest of the first year girls on the seventh floor, she had adapted smoothly to the wetting accidents day and night that required her to wear protection, but she found soiling herself unpleasant and had developed strategies to keep her pants clean most of the time. To Lisa's surprise the door of the stall was closed and she could see the feet of a woman sitting on the toilet. She stood impatiently in the bathroom, shifting her weight from foot to foot and clamping her bottom tightly against the developing pressure to evacuate that she could just barely sense. She heard the sound of paper being torn from the roll followed by the flushing of the toilet. She moved toward the door in anticipation. The door opened and a young woman she didn't know emerged. It was someone Lisa vaguely recognized from casual encounters around the campus. The young woman smiled politely at her and moved away from the door. To Lisa's surprise as she moved past Lisa her left hand reached out in a way that looked casual to Lisa at first but then suddenly grabbed the pacifier hanging around Lisa's neck and pushed it toward her mouth. To Lisa's surprise, she opened her mouth and accepted the nipple of the pacifier readily. Suddenly her hands, which had been reaching toward the door of the stall, slowly drifted down to her sides. She felt her diaper rapidly warming as her bladder released a gush of pee into her padded crotch. Oh, shit, thought Lisa to herself as she sucked at her pacifier. That girl stuck my pacifier in my mouth. How can I get into the toilet to poop? She's just standing there grinning at me. Oh, darn, I'm about to poop! Lisa stood there passively, anxiously sucking on her pacifier as her body completed the process of evacuating her bowels. She felt and then smelled as the strong muscles in her colon pulsed smoothly and extruded a substantial solid mass into the seat of her diaper. The smiling girl wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Well, I guess I was just in the nick of time, wasn't I?" she asked. After what felt to Lisa like an eon, she said to Lisa, "You've been standing there for about five minutes now. I'll take your pacifier out in a couple of minutes, so you'll remain paralyzed for another five or ten minutes." "It's too bad you won't really remember what happened. You'll just think you didn't make it to the toilet in time. That will contribute to your loss of confidence in the signals your body is sending you, which will in turn lead to more frequent accidents. OK, baby, nice to see you," the young woman said as she pulled the pacifier from Lisa's mouth and dropped it to hang again from its chain around Lisa's neck. ----- Lisa dumped her notebook on the desk in her room and headed into the suite bathroom. Lisa could feel the pressure in her lower abdomen that told her that it was time for her to sit down on the toilet because a poopy accident was not far in the future otherwise. Like the rest of the first year girls on the seventh floor, she had adapted smoothly to the wetting accidents day and night that required her to wear protection, but she found soiling herself unpleasant and had developed strategies to keep her pants clean most of the time. As she got into the bathroom and reached for the open door of the stall, however, her body suddenly initiated the process of evacuating her bowels. She felt and then smelled as the strong muscles in her colon pulsed smoothly and extruded a substantial solid mass into the seat of her diaper. Oh, shit, she thought to herself. I didn't make it. As she turned back to her room to get supplies to change her now foul diaper a drop of liquid dripped from the nipple of the pacifier around her neck and landed on her wrist. What the heck, she thought, how did my pacifier get wet?

It's been, like, ten million years since I last wrote a story, but recently inspiration hit from a weird space and we got this! I hope to not drag this out forever, since I got a very concise idea of where I want to go and hopefully will be able to stick to a semi-decent schedule when it comes to posting stuff. For now, enjoy the beginning of this weird little tale! NOTHING EVER HAPPENS or A Story About Ten Thousand Mishaps Chapter I Harper Arley Of course, this was happening because of the orange juice. Why Harper had thought to drink that infernal stuff instead of just ask for some tap water when the outcome was this predictable, he would not be able to explain to anyone. Of course, he loved orange juice. Couldn’t get enough of the stuff even. But in this particular situation? Terrible choice. His eyes darted to the other side of the waiting room, where a woman sat. Her hair was dyed violet and her face was done with so much makeup it looked like it was covered by a mask. Her kid, a kindergartner dressed all up in clothes displaying his favorite cartoon, was sitting at the small table in front, playing with the toys the doctor’s office kept for children. The woman, herself, her eyes remained on the magazine she’d picked up: “Lady’s Day”, it was called and she scoffed and shook her head as she went through the pages as if it was the most thought provoking read. These magazines were yellow pages, all rumor mongering and celebrity gossip, of course. But, nevertheless, with her attention so put on the pages and the little kid so engulfed in smashing his little knights against each other in bouts of what had to be the most glorious combat, Harper’s attention shifted to the door. He could go there, relatively calmly, then on the outside he’d have to move down the hallway to the headdesk, ask the assistant there for the keys to the toilet and then get to the other end and actually make it to the toilet. Even crossed, his fingers moved incessantly, twirling around each other as he figured out how to best approach the problem. If he made a dash for it, he could probably make it. But then he’d alert the woman, and he sure didn’t want to do that. The idea of her even thinking that he might have trouble making it to the toilet made him feel flushed and embarrassed. No, that wasn’t an option. So... walking over then. Or, rather, that was what he wanted to do, yet his body played him for a fool. The moment he shifted ever so slightly, a pang of pain ran through him, as his bladder ached for release. If he got up, he might not make it. So he’d have their attention on him, while having an accident. They would figure him out. So, if today of all days he had chosen to go for his usual underwear and a change of clothes, this would be the death of him. But, to his dismay, his choice to be safe and not sorry, had to pay off already. Harper inhaled, closed his eyes, leaned back a bit and then let go. The warm gush spread against the padding, which first held firmly, then grew softer as his legs squished apart, expanding. Poofing out, even. A second later, he exhaled, and opened his eyes. Her kid was still playing ,but the woman was looking at him. Her gaze was like steel, cutting through whatever social contract like a pair of scissors as her expression shifted from curious, confused, to realizing something and then quickly thinking what best to say. And Harper understood that she knew what just happened. As he looked down, the damn thing seemed so obvious. The bulge between his legs felt and even looked so vast, he could’ve done away with the pants at all and achieved the same amount of stealthiness. Of course, he’d chosen some extra baggy clothes today. A sweater that reached down to his thighs and a pair of pants that had pockets in its pockets and more pockets still. It should’ve been perfect, but now he felt his confidence dwindle. The one thing he hadn’t wanted was for anyone to figure out that he, a grown man in his mid twenties, was wearing or needing diapers. They remained in their positions just like that, with the woman eyeing him, and him trying to find anything of interest on his shoes. After what had to be two lifetimes and half an eternity, the doors to the waiting room opened. “Harper Arley,” a familiar voice came. The nurse, Mathilda, was a welcome face to see. “Alright,” he answered immediately and jumped from his seat, the height always a bit startling. He didn’t want to sit on any smaller chairs, since those were for children, but that also meant that whenever he got on or off a chair, he’d inevitably make a scene. Which was the last thing he wanted. But now the other kid stared right at him. The lad could not have been older than ten, and still, even seated, managed to look decently imposing to Harper. Standing there, knowing he wore a soggy diaper underneath his clothes made it feel all the more apparent to him. Nevertheless, he decided to trod onwards, to Mathilda. With that unflinching look and her attention on the little tablet in her hands, the nurse was well known to Harper. She’d been here at the clinic for as long as Harper could remember, had watched over him every single time he’d come here. Even now, with the child’s and the woman’s attention following him, he felt approaching her making him feel better, safer. Her expression was unchanging, so he hopefully just imagined it being this obvious. “Doctor Sprossling is sick, but Doctor Collins will see you instead. She’s fairly new, but has a good head on her shoulders,” Mathilda explained as she closed the door behind them. The clinic was a place Harper visited once every quarter. He, and as far as he knew, at least four others went to Doctor Sprossling for observation. One couldn’t call it treatment, as they were mostly here so that the doctor could ensure that they didn’t, specifically, need treatment. “And she knows?” He asked, after a bit. “Sprossling Syndrome...” Mathilda shook her head. “She knows, she knows. Wrote a paper on it, even.” They wrote papers on his condition now? As Harper waddled to keep up with the much taller nurse, he found himself curious. “Did you read it?” She giggled. “Of course, she gave me a copy... It certainly had all the details we know. Gathered in one place.” That wasn’t as helpful. All the details they knew about Sprossling Syndrome were with Harper and the other folks and kids that had grown up, were growing up and would grow up. Or whatever one might describe happening. "Now, are you well? You seem a bit nervous today.” He blushed, though the question confirmed that she, hopefully, hadn’t realized why his gait was as stiff as it was. The padding was sodden, and that thanks to him accepting the orange juice from nurse Taylor beforehand. The younger nurse had mistaken him for one of the regular kids, and he had failed to correct her... “I’m...” he started, halting himself as he thought over what to answer. His job was going well, his little apartment was nice, his life was quiet... “I’m doing fine. On the whole. Lots of stress at the job, but paper is patient. It’ll work itself out.” She nodded. “Makes sense.” Mathilda didn’t talk much. Or rather, she didn’t talk much to people who weren’t Harper. She’d held his hand when they’d first taken a blood sample and helped him change out of many a pair of pants ruined during the long wait. A children’s nurse through and through, she’d stuck out for “Sprossling Kids”. The way to the doctor’s office was colorful. The city’s children’s hospital had spent the money it earned partly thanks to him well. He remembered the hallways before the renovation, the water damage from the rain, and the faint smell of mold. All that was gone in favor of a colorful interior, cartoon images of children playing plastered on the wall and the otherwise clean hospital floors having colorful balloons painted on. The weight of the colors filled him with some sense of glee, raising his spirits as he walked towards uncertainty. From what he gathered, most adults marked the interior down as “cute”, but he felt like it had meaning, like it was something special only he truly understood. It wasn’t a feeling he could put down, but what it was, was a reason why he preferred still being a patient here despite his now advanced adult age. The office they went to wasn’t Sprossling’s. The doctor held a special place in the clinic and had their furnished their room like that of a curmudgeonly university professor, with stacks and stacks of books. It was also very close to the bathroom. The room they went to now wasn’t. Which made him hope today’s session would be short, at least. A hope which was only amplified once he stepped into Doctor Collins’ room. Unlike the antique charm of Sprossling’s office, which allowed him to at least preserve some dignity of visiting this place, this was just as colorful as the hallways. The exam table had a small set of steps leading up to it, and on the wall by it were friendly looking cartoon animals cheering for whomever was lying on it. There was a box stuffed to the brim with toys in one corner and a whole shelf with kid’s books. Mathilda showed him to the exam table. “You can sit down, doctor Collins will be with you shortly. Do you want something else to drink?” She asked. He wondered about the wisdom of that. Knowing he should decline he opened his mouth. “I’ll just get you some juice,” Mathilda said with a wink, utterly misinterpreting his thoughtful expression. He couldn’t well tell her that he didn’t want any more juice. How would that look? What would she think? So instead he gave in and sat down as she left, awaiting this new doctor and contemplating the office. At the tail end of the exam table lay the saddest looking dog plushie Harper had ever seen, one that clearly wanted to be hugged so dearly. Yet, Harper, being an adult, refused to fall for such an obvious trap. His wait was interrupted by Mathilda bringing some more orange juice in a clear glass. He’d complained about getting kid’s glasses often enough over the course of his years coming here and now that he was alone, without his parents, he was glad they still acquiesced to his whims. However, he still had more of the blasted juice that was so thoroughly responsible for his ruined underwear. Out of defiance, he drank the glass in one gulp. And, once again misinterpreting this action, he soon found himself with another glass, and then a third... and a fourth. “You are incredibly thirsty, didn’t you get anything to drink on your way here?” She chided, to which he blushed. “...I,” he stammered. There was an empty water bottle in his backpack and before that he had drank two cups of coffee with lots of milk and ate some cereal with even more milk. He sure as heck had enough to drink before. “I’m fine.” She, of course, sighed and shook her head, thinking something he refused to attempt to grasp. And with that, Mathilda left. It took another five or so minutes before another person entered, with a dark shirt underneath a pink vest with a white coat above. The name tag she wore read “Dr. Collins - Pediatrician”. The woman was shorter than Mathilda, with pronounced cheekbones and a widow’s peak adding to her black hair’s silhouette. She came in looking at a tablet herself, mumbling something before finally looking up at him. “Harper Arley, I presume?” She asked, a smile growing on her face. “You are slightly bigger than Doctor Sprossling had alluded to.” “...Do I even want to know what he “alluded”?” He asked, warily. In response, she chuckled. “Nothing to worry about, now... Mr. Arley, right?” Harper nodded. That was appropriate. “I’m going to do your checkup, but with a caveat,” she said, pulling up a chair to the exam table and sitting down on it, closing in on eye level. Regular people were so tall... She smiled. “We will only need further exams once a year. For your regular checkups, you’d best go to a local pediatrician afterwards. The data accumulated shows that Sprossling’s isn’t a dangerous disease, if an elusive one. All I can tell you is what you already know. You’re a grown man in a child’s body, and no medical procedure we attempted helped. We know that if we do nothing, you are, from a physical perspective, a healthy child, and from a mental perspective, a healthy adult. There isn’t much more we can do and personally... I advised against more therapies. And I’ll advise you the same. We’ve had you going through medications, through hormone therapy and god knows what else. Quite frankly, the last few tests showed you are better off without us interfering.” He looked at her, a bit unsure how to exactly respond. No more clinic visits? That sounded great. And he wasn’t too sad about there not being a solution. He’d really lived with this condition since everyone around him hit their growth spurts and he’d made the best of it. Built a life, with his own apartment, his own colleagues at work accepting him despite his shortcomings. So, yes, he shrugged. “I’m fine with that.” She nodded and started the examination. She checked him through, starting with his hair, mumbling something about dandruff, which had gotten worse over time. He was still looking for a shampoo to deal with that. His skin was irritated in some areas, she said. Psoriasis had been a companion for the better part of the last four years. The checkup required that she looked at everything, of course. As he pulled up his shirt, he forgot the obvious until he found her staring. While baggy, his pants were sagging quite a bit on their own, especially because he had gone without a belt. Which, of course, revealed the waistband of his undergarment, and even the upper tapes. It wasn’t even the worst. One might have expected it, but no, he’d never been good at putting the damn tapes on, nor had a sense of how much the diapers could hold. Not enough, not today at least, as the area around his crotch and on the insides of his thighs was stained dark. Growing red, he looked down, mouth open. How could he have been this stupid? Even worse, tears started to well up. And then he felt her soft touch on his shoulder. “It’s okay...” she started but didn’t say his surname like she wanted. A loud sob escaped his mouth, interrupting her. It then took her another few seconds to react as she looked him over, unsure how to best address him. How could she know, while she had her share of young patients, an adult, presented like this was sure to be different. “We’ll fix it up. Can you get out of your pants, I’ll get you something new to change into.” Walking over to the biggest cabinet, she started to talk before she rummaged through the lower drawers. “I’m sorry, you’re hardly my first patient that had an accident today, but... I didn’t hear about you needing... incontinence pants.” That word made him shudder, not as much as the other, more common phrase, but still there was a deliberateness to her choice of words that did not escape him. Flushing, he did pull down his pants. “Uh;” he started, unsure how best to address this. “I just wear them...for protection.” “I think that applies to most all people who wear,” she responded with a shrug. “I guess it makes sense, an underdeveloped bladder is very much a Sprossling symptom. Sadly, we’re not spoiled for choice of underwear for your size, but I should have something in one of the shelves under the table.” Under the table? Who kept underwear under an exam table? Harper leaned forward and found, sadly, not what he wanted to find. He’d missed, or rather wanted to miss, them priorly, the piles upon piles of diapers.He flushed, finding something akin to his size in some bedwetting pants, quickly getting down the little stairs and picking them up. “Is there somewhere I can change?” He asked, wiping his tears off. Some form of composure was all he wanted to regain. “We still need to finish the exam, just change into some new underwear and we’ll continue from there.” This was not the sort of answer he’d expected or at least hoped for, but it was her answer nonetheless and Harper was not one to argue with doctors. So, he disposed of the wet disposable as quickly as he could in the pail next to the table and pulled up his new “underwear”. It wasn’t as bad as the diaper, but in turn, should he suffer another accident, he doubted it would offer much in terms of protection. Usually, he went for thin products as well, but these sort of trainers he avoided for so many reasons, fear of leaks was just a very prevalent one. Another was the cartoons covering it. It looked so, and he hated to even think of the word, childish. Sitting in it, letting the exam go on, was something he was used to. Back when he was way younger, he used to be stuck in diapers. He used to wear them for longer than other kids, and his parents had almost given up on potty training him. He rather vividly remembered having needed them during the day well into his teenage years and for longer trips, well, he always preferred them to coming into a situation where he couldn’t hold it. The remaining tests were all very standard stuff. Blood taken, vitals checked, reflexes tested. And as always, he came out being told he was as healthy as one of his stature can be. Which, of course, didn’t help with the stature itself but confirmed why he shouldn’t come here as often anymore. “And that’s that. You can get dressed,” the good doctor told him. The imperative made him feel uncomfortable, small. At least he got to pull on the darn pants. Or tights, in this case. Dull grey things of thick wool. Ideal for the season, but not so ideal for his fashion sense. Better than nothing, he assured himself. Yet, it wasn’t like he could walk out of here just like that. His jacket would obscure his underwear, but the pants themselves? Nope. And he couldn’t go out there looking like this. Sadly, it almost seemed like a better option when she revealed what he should wear over it. “It’s been snowing outside, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” This was an unhelpful statement, on quite a few levels. The thing she showed him was a snowsuit, bright pink with a pale white fox on the front and furry inlay for the hood. It was a little girl’s outfit. And she expected him to wear that? No way in hell.

Chapter 9: Masks of Survival The romper stretched taut across my chest, the snaps at the bottom an obnoxious reminder of my situation. I tugged at the fabric, trying to make it feel less constricting—not that it helped. My bare legs dangled off the tiny chair attached to the desk, too low for me to straighten my knees. The Waddlz rustled loudly with every shift. I sighed, leaning back in frustration. "Do I really have to wear this ridiculous thing?" I gestured at the romper and, more specifically, the bulk beneath it. "It’s like wearing a mattress!" My voice was sharper than I meant, but I didn’t care. Aiden stood outside the playpen, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Mattress? Bihurri, please. Those are the real deal, far superior to the ones at little Emerson's. You should be thanking me." He leaned down slightly, letting the amusement laced in his tone hit me like nails on a chalkboard. "Besides, just look at you. Adorable. Don’t you agree?" I slammed the math textbook shut, the sound echoing off the pastel-colored walls of the nursery they dared to call a “room.” "Enough!" I shouted, resisting the urge to throw the book. "This—this is torture! That stupid diaper, this playpen, the outfit—everything! I’m not—" "Careful," Aiden interrupted, his voice taking a dangerously mild tone that sent a chill down my spine. He tapped the wooden rail of the playpen with one finger. "You’re on thin ice, little one. Unless you want to have another timeout—or worse—you’ll cut that tantrum short. Understand?" Glaring at him only made his smile grow. Aiden had that infuriating patience that made you want to test it just to see if it would crack. I huffed, looking away toward the open math book. Numbers floated in disjointed chaos on the page. Eight across sixteen grids. Why did their math always have to be so… alien? My nails scratched the corner of the desk as I leaned forward. "I don’t even know where to start on this stupid problem." "You’d know if you actually paid attention instead of complaining," Aiden quipped, stepping closer to the pen. His shadow stretched over the desk. "It’s not rocket science. Although, if I was teaching you that, you’d probably find a way to whine about it too." His voice dropped into an exaggerated pout. "'Oh, Aiden, I can't understand the vector calculus! Please, don't make me solve it!'" He mimicked, throwing his head back dramatically. I scowled, clutching the edge of the desk tighter. "You’re not funny." "No?" His grin widened. "Then why am I laughing?" His amusement peeled through any lingering seriousness, but the edge of authority stayed there, floating just beneath the surface. Tension built in my chest. I jabbed at the math book with my finger. "I wasn’t built for this whole… this whole Amazon thing! Your weird numbers, your—your…" My voice faltered as I gestured again at the oversized diaper beneath me, its stupidly loud crinkle mocking every movement. "Your what, bihurri?" Aiden prompted, eyebrows raised, daring me to finish. I bit my tongue, heat rushing to my face. I turned back to the book angrily, pretending to focus, though the numbers still taunted me silently. Overhead, Aiden sighed deeply, though there was no mistaking the trace of fondness buried beneath his exasperation. Aiden unfolded his arms, leaning casually against the playpen. He motioned me with a single wave of his hand, slow and deliberate. "Come here, bihurri." I froze, gripping the desk as if it could anchor me in place. The weight of his voice pinned me down, even though it wasn’t loud or threatening. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. His gaze locked onto mine, steady and unyielding, and my stomach tensed. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his tone low, like the rumble of thunder in the distance. His hand hovered above the latch, motioning for me to step out. "We don’t have all day." I swallowed hard, the thick padding between my legs making every movement feel exaggerated, clumsy. The Waddlz protested with loud, humiliating crinkles as I slid off the chair. Each step toward him was an eternity, my legs spreading farther apart than I wanted. The bulky padding forced the movement, dragging my dignity with it. I kept my eyes down, fixing on the carpet, the stupid pastel patterns blurring together as I shuffled across the room. My chest tightened with every shuffle, every sound. By the time I reached the edge of the playpen, my hands were trembling. I wrapped them around the wooden railing, knuckles white against the polished wood. I stared at the floor, refusing to look at him. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. "What do you want?" I ground out, though my voice betrayed the thin veneer of defiance I desperately clung to. Aiden didn’t answer immediately. He crouched, bringing his face level with mine, those deep blue eyes scanning me. The smirk was gone, replaced by something unreadable. "Look at me," he said softly, but it wasn’t a request. My throat tightened as I slowly raised my gaze to meet his. The weight of his attention was unbearable. Before I could stop myself, the floodgates burst. Tears spilled over, hot and relentless, as my knees buckled. I clung to the rail, sobbing uncontrollably. "I want to go home," I choked out between gasps, my voice cracking with the desperation clawing its way out. "Please, just let me go home. I-I can’t… I don’t want to do this anymore." Aiden’s expression didn’t change. He waited, silent and steady, until my sobs began to slow. Then, he reached out, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. The touch made me flinch, but he didn’t pull back. "Bihurri," he started, the edge of patience still there, "you know it’s not possible right now." "It can’t be forever," I whispered, my voice small and pleading. My fingers dug into the rail. "Please… six months… that's too long." "Six months is what it’ll take," he said, his tone even and measured. "You leave before then, and everything we’re working toward—the protection, your future—goes up in flames. You’re smart enough to understand that." His words hit like lead weights, dragging me down further. "I don’t care about… about whatever your stupid plan is," I spat through gritted teeth, though the tears betrayed me. "I just want to be with my family." "You will be," Aiden said firmly. "But not yet. We’re doing this so you can have more than just a home. A future. Dignity." He paused, his grip on my shoulder tightening just enough to ground me. "You’re getting your diploma. Like it or not." The fight drained out of me in an instant. I sagged against the rail, defeated and exhausted. My voice cracked as words tumbled out, fragile and unfiltered. "Daddy, please…" Aiden froze for a fraction of a second, his hand stilling on my shoulder. Then, his grip softened, and he let out a long exhale. "You’ve had a rough morning," he said after a moment, his voice gentler than before. "But right now, I think you need some time to calm down." He grasped my hand and led me toward the corner of the nursery, each step punctuated by the humiliating rustle of the Waddlz. I followed numbly, tears still streaking my face. He stopped by the wall, gesturing for me to face it. His hand tugged gently at the back of the diaper, checking its state. The padding was damp, but not excessively so. "You’ll be fine," he said simply, patting the back lightly before stepping away. "Corner time," Aiden announced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Fifteen minutes. Think about what we talked about." I trudged to the wall, pressing my forehead against it. My breathing steadied, though my chest still felt tight. The corner felt like a cocoon, forcing me to process the whirlwind of emotions spiraling inside. Somewhere in that storm, a tiny ember sparked—an inkling of reluctant hope. Six months. It wasn’t forever. I leaned against the corner wall with one foot propped lazily behind me, arms crossed. My head rested sideways on the cool plaster, and I yawned for effect, hoping Aiden would get the message that corner time was beyond stupid. The Waddlz pressed against my thighs in the most annoying way possible, making it hard to focus on anything but the ridiculous bulk keeping me tethered to this infantilizing nightmare. I heard the quiet hum of his steps before the shadow returned. "Really, Bihurri?" His voice sliced through whatever comfort I’d momentarily found. I rolled my eyes but didn’t turn around. "What?" Something caught the back of my romper—a firm hand tugging me upright. "That’s not how we do corners," he said, pulling my arms uncrossed and pushing them to my sides. My legs were adjusted too, positioned awkwardly close together despite the diaper that loudly crinkled its protest. "Can’t I just stand how I want?" I whined, the high-pitched irritation in my voice doing nothing to mask the glare I shot over my shoulder. "No," was all he said, his fingers lightly patting my shoulder as if cementing me in place. "Feet flat, hands to your side. Eyes forward." I groaned. "What difference does it make how I’m standing? It’s not like I’m gonna run away from the wall or—" A heartbeat later, the unmistakable weight of hard plastic pressed against my tongue. My grumbles cut out instantly as Aiden gently but firmly inserted the SoothKeeper into my mouth. The familiar click of the locking mechanism secured it in place, and my eyes widened. "That’s enough of that," he said, tilting his head and observing me with maddening calm. Like I’d proven his point. "Whining doesn’t solve anything. Thought you’d figured that out by now." I turned back to the wall, fuming silently as the pacifier released its maddeningly sweet flavor into my mouth. My jaw worked against it, despite knowing its little tricks would make spitting it out impossible. A muffled grumble escaped my lips, but the SoothKeeper swallowed most of the sound. For a minute, neither of us spoke. He shifted behind me, unlocking his datapad with practiced efficiency. The soft tapping of his fingers filled the silence. “Alright,” he started, voice brisk and detached like he'd moved onto business. "I’ve officially registered you for Bright Horizons Academy." I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. My head shifted just slightly, enough to catch his movement behind me without fully turning around. "Don’t play dumb, Bihurri," he said, his tone light but warning. "It’s a preparatory school. You want a diploma, right?" I bit down on the pacifier’s bulb, frustration simmering. A low suction sound followed involuntarily as I fought the urge to spit the thing onto the floor. All I managed instead was a muffled, "Mmnnf!" "You’re welcome," Aiden said dryly. "Since your little escapades decided not to wait for adult life to kick in, we’ll go about it the structured way." I craned my neck further now, glaring around the pacifier and knowing my face betrayed how furious I felt. He stepped closer, crossing his arms and towering effortlessly over my smaller frame. His tone stayed maddeningly even. "You’ll get your diploma. You’ll build a future out of this mess. And yes, it’ll be my rules. You can sulk as much as you like, but that’s what being a father means." The word hit sharper than his usual jabs. A lump grew in my throat briefly before I could swallow it down. He wasn’t my father. He was the... whatever this was. But the conviction in his voice—like he really believed it—stirred something uncomfortable. Something heavy. The wall in front of me was a bland, creamy yellow, seemingly chosen for its ability to blend into the cacophony of pastels around it. My fingers brushed the grainy texture of the paint as if there was something significant to find there, something I could focus on other than the sound of Aiden's soft footsteps retreating out of the room. The silence was heavier than I wanted it to be. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, the bulk between my legs refusing to let me forget the absurdity of my situation. Where had he gone? And why did his absence feel like someone had opened a window during a winter storm? I pressed my forehead against the wall, eyes closing tightly as the thoughts stormed in, unbidden and relentless. Aiden. Was he really here to help me, or was I just another piece in whatever game he was playing? But then, there had been those moments—moments so painfully brief—when something in his voice had cracked, something that felt familiar, like the echo of an old memory you couldn’t quite place. The way he said "Bihurri," like it wasn’t just a nickname but an anchor to a lost past. Could it really be him? My father? The man who left without a single goodbye or explanation when I was just a boy? And if it was him… what did that even mean for me now? The thought twisted my stomach into knots. Would this somehow make everything better or worse? Did I even want him to be my father? My throat tightened as memories of my childhood rose to the surface—his hand ruffling my hair, his deep laugh that made me feel like the most important boy in the world. But those moments were fleeting, buried beneath years of questions, years of trying to fill the void he left behind. If Aiden really was him, did I even have the right to be angry anymore? Or did this place, this nightmare we were stuck in, erase all of that? I steadied my breathing, though every inhale felt heavy, my chest rising and falling against the pressure building inside me. What if I confronted him and asked outright? Would he admit it? Would he deny it? And worse—what if he told me I was wrong? A sudden warmth spread between my legs, and I froze. Panic clawed at my chest as the realization struck. No, no, no. My muscles tensed against the inevitability, trying to force back what was already too late. The thick padding beneath me grew wetter, warmer, clinging uncomfortably to my skin. The sound of it—soft but unmistakable—felt like a slap across my face. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. The tears that filled my eyes weren’t from the humiliation alone. It was the helplessness, the maddening loss of control, like my body wasn’t even mine anymore. My breathing hitched, and for a moment, I glanced over my shoulder, almost hoping Aiden would walk in. How screwed up was that? Shoulders shaking, I closed my eyes again, pressing my forehead harder against the wall. What was I even holding onto anymore? Some image of who I thought I was? Some version of me that didn’t exist in this world? Because here, I wasn’t the strong, capable older brother, the boy who could fix anything with enough tools and determination. No. Here, I was… this. A soft exhale escaped me, cooling the heat of my face. As miserable as it was—the diaper, the pacifier, the infantilizing treatment—it was survivable. But only because of him. Without Aiden, I wouldn’t even have that. And if he really was my father—if he really cared, even in his twisted, overbearing way—wasn’t that something I should cling to? Maybe… maybe it wasn’t the childhood I wanted, but it was the one I had now. The thought settled over me like a too-small blanket, barely enough to cover the jagged edges of my pride. I wiped at my face with the heel of my palm, the pacifier bobbing gently in my mouth as I sucked without thinking. It was mechanical now, no longer a point of rebellion, just… a way to keep breathing. Aiden had said he was doing this for me, so I could have a future. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he wasn’t. But the alternative? The thought of navigating this world alone, without someone guiding me—protecting me—felt like stepping into a chasm with no bottom. I didn’t want that. I didn’t know when the shift happened, but the word "Dad" floated in my mind without the venom it carried before. It wasn’t acceptance so much as submission to something inevitable, like slipping into a river’s current because fighting would only pull you further under. Maybe, just maybe, letting go wasn’t surrender. Maybe it was survival. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, staring at the corner just inches from my nose. My voice was muffled, partly by the pacifier, partly by shame. The silence that followed made my chest tighten. "Dad," I added, the word heavy and unfamiliar on my tongue. It hung there between us. I didn’t know what possessed me to say it, but once it was out, there was no pulling it back. Behind me, I heard Aiden’s footsteps approach. He didn’t say anything at first, which made my pulse race even faster. Finally, his hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a silent acknowledgment. I felt a gentle tug as he guided me to turn around and face him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something softer in his eyes. "Alright, Bihurri," he said, his voice calm. "Let’s get you out of here." Without another word, he reached behind me and unhooked the pacifier dangling from my shirt. The soft click as he unlocked it almost made me sigh with relief. Still, I kept my eyes down, not ready to face him fully. He steered me toward the changing table, his hands firm yet not forceful. The crinkle of the diaper echoed in the quiet room with every step. When we reached the table, he lifted me up as though I weighed nothing, settling me onto the padded surface. "You’re a mess, kid," he said with a tiny shake of his head, but there wasn’t any bite in his words. Grabbing a few supplies from the shelves underneath, he began working methodically. The tapes ripped open with their characteristic noise, and I stared at the ceiling, my face burning. He worked quickly, replacing the soaked padding with a fresh diaper. The minty-sweet scent of the powder filled the air, a constant reminder of my infantile position. I flinched slightly as his hands adjusted the new diaper snugly around me, securing it with those impossibly sticky tapes. "There we go," he said, giving the front of the diaper a pat. "All set." He helped me sit up and straightened my romper before lifting me off the table and placing me back on the floor. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with myself until his hand squeezed my shoulder again. "Go on," he said, motioning toward the doorway. "Your room’s waiting. Play for a bit. I’ll be around if you need me." I nodded, words escaping me as I trudged back to my room. * * * Nikolas folded his arms as he slouched in the passenger seat, his Waddlz crinkling faintly with every movement. “I don’t see why I have to go again. I’m fine. Completely fine,” he complained, his voice edged with indignation. “This place is pointless. Can’t we just skip it this time?” Michael, gripping the wheel, sighed but kept his gaze steady on the road ahead. “Nik,” he started with deliberate calmness, “you know these follow-ups are part of the program. We agreed on this. You agreed on this.” His tone softened slightly, though it carried the unmistakable weight of authority. Nikolas huffed, turning his gaze to the window. “Yeah, well, I didn’t agree to be dragged around like this. It’s humiliating, and I don’t—” “Nikolas,” Michael cut in with a glance, his sharp, piercing eyes holding momentary command. “Enough. Be a good boy while you’re there, or else…” His voice trailed off, allowing the implication to settle. After a pause, he adjusted his tone, trying to ease Nikolas’s scowl. “It’s not forever, kiddo. Just… make the best of it, alright?” A roll of his eyes and a muttered, “Whatever,” was all Nikolas offered in response. He slumped even deeper, his body sulking in perfect unison with his mood. As they pulled into the clinic’s circular drop-off, Michael shifted the car into park, unbuckled Nikolas’s seatbelt, and gave his shoulder a firm, grounding squeeze. “Straighten up. You can do this. I’ll pick you up later.” His voice carried a note of encouragement, though Nikolas clearly wasn’t in the mood to hear it. Nikolas dragged himself out of the car, his overall straps shifting slightly as he grabbed his bag. He threw his father a scornful glance over his shoulder before walking toward the clinic doors with an exaggerated stomp. Michael stayed parked for a single moment longer, letting out a measured breath before shifting back into drive. As the glass clinic doors shut behind his son, Michael merged back onto the main thoroughfare and pressed forward toward the office, his mind already shifting to the work that awaited him. * * * Michael pushed open the glass door to his office and stepped inside, glancing at the cluster of his team already assembling around the conference table in the adjacent room. “Morning, everyone,” he said, nodding to each face in turn. His voice cut through the quiet hum of computer screens and shifting chairs, a familiar steady note in the otherwise buzzing air. Cynthia looked up from her tablet with a faint smile. “Morning, Michael,” she replied before gesturing to the data spread across the table. “We’re set up to start.” Michael strode over and set his bag down at his desk. “Alright, let's get to it. Have we got any fresh ideas on the school exchange angle?” He crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, scanning the room. “Anything promising? Any leads we haven’t explored yet?” Harrison tapped a pen absently against his notebook before leaning forward. “I think we’ve hit every logical path so far,” he said, half in thought. “Either those connections are buried deep, or we’re looking at something bigger than just one program.” “Bigger,” Cynthia repeated, as if weighing the word. She glanced at Harrison before folding her arms. “So what do we do? Hit dead ends until something cracks?” “Or,” Harrison quipped with a sly grin, “we dust off a crystal ball, light some candles, and summon whatever ghostly entity can give us a clue. At this point, it might have better intel than we do.” A few chuckles rippled around the room, breaking some of the tension. Michael gave a faint smirk but shook his head. “If only it were that simple,” he muttered. “Keep brainstorming. There’s something we’re missing—we just haven’t seen it yet.” The sound of a phone ringing cut through the room, halting the light conversation. A sharp, shrill chime. Harrison reached into his pocket, silencing it quickly with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, didn’t expect anything urgent this morning.” Michael barely had a chance to reply when another ring, distinct and from across the room, pierced the air. Cynthia picked up her phone this time, frowning as she checked the screen. “Strange,” she murmured, hanging up and setting it aside. The room seemed to shift uneasily as a third phone went off, then a fourth in rapid succession. A wave of confused glances shot between the team as one by one, each device let out its piercing tone. By the fifth ring, Harrison’s laughter had been replaced with a tense glance around the table. “What’s going on?” He muttered. Then, as suddenly as the chaotic cacophony had begun, the room was silent. Each current phone went dark, their screens blank in eerie synchrony. The quiet was unnerving, pressing against the moment like a held breath. Cynthia exhaled, stepping back slightly when the sound of another ring broke through the room. This time, it wasn’t a smartphone chime but a deep, resonant tone that belonged to none of their devices. All eyes turned to the antique rotary phone perched on the far shelf by Michael’s desk, red against the muted tones of the office. Dust encased its circular dial, its receiver resting at an angle as though long untouched—yet its bell rang with an impossible clarity. No one moved. The distant, surreal reverberation froze them all in place, breaths almost synchronized in startled silence. Cynthia’s lips parted slightly, a question forming but left unsaid. Harrison blinked, staring at the phone as though willing the sound to stop, but it persisted, steady and demanding attention. Michael’s gaze locked on the instrument, his jaw tightening as the rest of the team exchanged bewildered, nervous glances. The room felt heavier, the unnatural ringing crawling under the skin of those present. Michael’s breath came shallow, his pulse hammering in his ears. His team sat frozen, eyes flicking between him and the crimson phone, its shrill, insistent call cutting through everything. He stood rooted, his mind a blur, legs feeling leaden as though the floor beneath him shifted subtly, like the tremor of an invisible quake. The phone kept ringing. It beckoned, demanded. Finally, his hand moved on instinct, hesitant and stiff, brushing across the cool surface of the receiver before gripping it fully. The moment he lifted it to his ear, the ringing stopped. A deep, almost oppressive silence followed. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to break that silence. “H-hello?” Static crackled back at him, loud and grating, coursing through the receiver and spilling into the room. It scraped into his ear like metal shards grinding against each other, relentless and harsh. He almost pulled away, but a sound began to emerge from within the distortion—it was drawn out and garbled, twisting like something clawing its way into coherence. The melody seeped through the static first. Nursery-like and faintly distorted, snatches of it skipping as though played from a warped, broken record. His muscles tensed, recognition prickling behind his ears. A childlike voice followed—no, voices, layered and off-kilter, almost as if sung from lips that didn't breathe. “Ten little Littles, each keen to learn...” The words bled through clearer with every repetition. The song stretched unnaturally, its pace unpredictable, faltering and speeding up without rhythm. “🎵 But one spoke out of turn, leaving nine in concern... 🎵” The distorted chorus sprang through before the second verse even began, weaving a garbled, fragmented chaos that toyed with its own rules. Michael’s breath caught. The room around him seemed to shrink, an almost claustrophobic chill creeping up from the floor. The faces of his team stared wide-eyed at him, mouths slightly open, silent like dolls watching a stage where the air rang wrong. With every verse, the voices seemed to grow closer, intimate, uncomfortably vivid, scraping right into his nerves as though whispered directly into his ear. By the time the final eerie line dragged itself out, the receiver felt scorching in his hand. "...With a heavy heart and a quiet moan… Adopted lastly, with a tearful wave…" As the distorted melody flowed through the static, the childlike voice suddenly morphed, its tone shifting, dripping with mockery: “🎵 Twenty years later, oh Michael the bold, Found truths hidden deep and dark, so cold... 🎵” The refrain twisted, woven with a chilling edge: “🎵 But in shadows he roams, lost and alone, Chasing the whispers that feel like home... 🎵” Michael's breath caught as recognition sank in, an unsettling feeling curling in his stomach. The echo of the static lingered in the room, a faint impression that clung to the air and left a chill hanging near the floor. Slowly, sound crept back in—the soft hum of the office’s air conditioning, the distant murmur of conversations beyond the glass wall, the scratch of Cynthia’s pen as she scrawled something on the nearest notepad. Michael lowered the phone, setting it on the surface of the desk as though it might bite back. No one spoke for a moment; the table remained a still-life of stunned faces, each person trapped in their private thoughts about what had just unfolded. "Tell me someone recorded that," Harrison finally said, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. He rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers lingering near his temples. “I did.” Cynthia didn’t look up, her focus entirely on her device as she tapped and dragged her fingers across the screen. “Not intentional—it was running because we were logging conversation notes. It caught everything.” This piece of information seemed to anchor the team slightly. That surreal, creeping sense of unreality faltered as Michael straightened his posture and moved to address them. “Okay,” he said, his voice clipped but steady. “Call security. I want this room swept for anything—everything. Don’t touch that phone again.” Cynthia nodded and grabbed the phone on the table nearest her. As she relayed Michael’s orders, the tension in the room cracked just enough for Harrison to exhale loudly, his hands now resting on the edges of the table as he leaned forward. “What… What the hell was that?” he muttered under his breath, but no one offered an answer. The knock on the office door came sharp and deliberate minutes later. Michael crossed the room quickly and opened the door wide to admit three members of the building’s security team, all dressed in sleek black uniforms with small insignias bearing the company’s emblem. Their presence brought an odd weight of reassurance to the room, though it did little to dispel the lingering questions that filled each corner. “Full sweep,” Michael instructed briskly, moving aside to let the team move past him. One of the guards carried a handheld scanner, the dull green and orange lights flashing against the walls as it began its measured sweep of the office space. The second guard approached Michael’s desk, gesturing for clearance to examine the phone. Michael gave a short nod. “Careful,” he added, perhaps unnecessary but a reflection of his own unease. Gloved hands lifted the phone, which now appeared innocuous—just a relic of another time, its red paint catching the faint glare of the overhead light. The guard tilted it slightly, his brow furrowing as he turned it under his scrutiny. “Feels heavier than it should,” he remarked, his words carrying in the quiet room. A few others watched with curious wariness as the guard turned to his colleague, passing the phone over carefully. “Running a scan on this,” the second guard said, bringing it closer to the handheld device. A soft beep punctuated the process, followed by a quick intake of breath. “What is it?” Michael asked, stepping closer. The guard turned the phone in her hands, her gloved fingers prodding carefully around its base. Finally, she seemed to find a minuscule edge and pressed against it, revealing a concealed compartment—a space no larger than a thumbnail. Inside rested an unassuming speck of black, a perfectly smooth device that glimmered faintly in the light. “It’s a transmitter,” she said, her voice carrying an odd mix of awe and disbelief. “Or something like it. Advanced miniature tech for sure.” Michael’s brows knit closer together as he leaned in, staring at the device but careful not to touch it. Behind him, the team exchanged uneasy glances. Even with the surreal atmosphere beginning to erode, the undercurrent of confusion and unease refused to dissipate. The guard slipped the tiny transmitter into a padded case with practiced precision, snapping it shut before giving Michael a curt nod. "We’ll take this to the lab for a full analysis. Room’s clear—no other devices or signals picked up." Michael exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. "Good," he said. "Keep me updated as soon as you find anything." With that, the security team filed out of the room, the faint sound of boots on the polished floor fading into the corridor’s hum. Cynthia broke the silence next, setting her tablet down hard on the table. "That song," she said, her voice brittle, "what kind of—what was that even? A threat? A warning?" Harrison leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tight across his chest. "It was deranged, that’s what it was. Who even comes up with something like that?" He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the red phone where it had sat moments before. "This whole situation screams head games." "Head games? That was psychological warfare, plain and simple," Cynthia snapped, her eyes sharp but unfocused as though still replaying every note of the warped nursery rhyme in her head. "And it worked. I don’t like admitting it, but whoever’s behind this knows exactly how to keep us off balance." Michael crossed his arms and stared out the window for a moment, the cityscape below flickering in light and shadow. His jaw tightened. "It’s not about us being rattled," he said flatly. "It’s about sending a message, and we need to figure out what that message is. Fast." Harrison let out a low, sharp laugh, more incredulous than amused. "Right, because decoding insanity should definitely be in our wheelhouse now." Before Cynthia could shoot back another retort, a smooth, disembodied voice cut through the room. "Oh, come now, Harrison," Hermes drawled, its tone both sardonic and faintly amused. Its interface glimmered to life on the far wall, a familiar shifting pattern of lights representing the AI's presence. "Don’t sell yourselves short. That little performance was nothing short of captivating." Michael turned sharply toward the display. "You have something to add, Hermes, or are you just here to admire the chaos?" "Both," Hermes replied with infuriating calm. "Let me begin with an observation: the execution of that little auditory stunt was, dare I say, impeccable. The subtle layering of distortion, the rhythmic inconsistencies—such artistry in creating unease. Whoever orchestrated this... well, they’re not just ingenious; they’re dedicated. A standing ovation is in order." Cynthia’s face twisted in disbelief. "Hermes, are you seriously—complimenting them? You do realize this isn’t a show, right?" "Ah, but that’s precisely where you’re mistaken," Hermes countered, the lights on its display pulsing rhythmically. "It is a show. One tailored deliberately for an audience of one—or several, in this case. Every note, every lyric, every distorted voice has a function. Consider it... a highly theatrical form of communication. Effective too, judging by the delightful tension currently filling this room." Harrison let out a low groan, rubbing his temples. "Of course. Leave it to our smart-mouthed AI to find the art in a psychotic nursery rhyme." "Oh, please. I'm merely pointing out the intentionality behind it," Hermes replied smoothly. "You humans, always so reactive, so easily unnerved. A commendable use of psychological manipulation, wouldn't you agree, Michael?" Michael’s eyes narrowed. "I agree they know exactly how to get our attention," he said evenly. "Turn your praise into analysis, Hermes, and find us some answers. Compliments aren't going to help us figure this out." "Very well," Hermes said, a faint note of amusement still lingering in its tone. "But do allow me a moment to appreciate craftsmanship when I see it. After all, understanding the artist provides insight into the art." Hermes’s voice filled the room, smooth and deliberate, carrying a weight that immediately pulled everyone's attention. “Ah, nursery rhymes,” it began, its tone almost reverential. “Deceptively simple, yet one of humanity’s most enduring tools for communication. You see, throughout history, songs—especially those dressed in the innocent trappings of childhood—have served as vessels for messages. Hidden messages, mind you, crafted specifically to evade the vigilant eyes and ears of authority.” The lights on Hermes’s interface flickered rhythmically as it continued. “Take, for instance, ‘Ring Around the Rosie.’ To the uninformed, it’s a harmless little ditty enjoyed by toddlers spinning in circles. But to those in the know? A grim narrative of plagues, ashes, and the finality of mortality. Or ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep,’ seemingly about wool but laden with undertones of taxation and economic burden in the 13th century. Censorship could silence spoken words, but songs? Songs had a way of slipping past, don’t you think?” Harrison leaned forward, his arms crossed, brow furrowed with curiosity despite himself. “Are you saying this…” He gestured vaguely toward the red phone now encased, eyebrow arched. “…was some kind of code? A warning wrapped in a nursery rhyme?” “Precisely,” Hermes answered without hesitation, its tone carrying a faint lilt of self-satisfaction. “If you were the composer—and let’s presume for a moment you are—how better to convey truths both sensitive and unsettling than by embedding them into the folds of something familiar, something so seemingly banal that it would never draw suspicion? Schoolyards, bedtime rituals—all perfect vectors for delivering encoded truths. Now then, let’s focus on our immediate concern, shall we?” Hermes paused, long enough for its flickering display to draw attention back to it, before launching into an analysis with an almost theatrical flair. “‘Ten little Littles, each keen to learn,’” it repeated slowly, the cadence of its voice pitch-perfect, mimicking the mocking sing-song rhythm. “Clearly, this verse establishes the baseline—Littles as not just students seeking education, but individuals unaware of their perilous situation. ‘Keen to learn,’ yet blissfully ignorant of the true dynamics at hand.” Michael’s jaw tightened as Hermes pressed on, unrelenting. “It continues, ‘But one spoke out of turn, leaving nine in concern.’ Consequence—harsh and immediate. Students stepping out of line, revealing individuality or agency, are swiftly met with punishment. Their departure—or perhaps disappearance—sets a precedent for others. You don’t need to be a behavioral psychologist to see the psychological chessboard unfolding here. The group dynamic shifts; fear sharpens its claws.” Cynthia shifted uneasily in her chair, arms pressed tightly across her chest. “Fear of what? Of speaking out? Of being… removed?” Hermes’s display pulsed steadily, a calm amidst the room’s growing tension. “An excellent question, Cynthia,” it replied, almost indulgently. “Consider the very context of our current investigation. Littles—students—hunted not merely in plain sight but beneath the comforting guise of routine. What better way to ensure compliance than through a combination of misinformation and carefully staged reinforcement of their subordinate roles?” “And what about the ending of the rhyme?” Harrison cut in, his voice low, as if speaking the words too loudly might summon their grim implications. “It finishes with adoption. That’s… unsettlingly specific.” “Ah, adoption,” Hermes echoed, drawing the sound out lazily before shifting its tone. “An innocuous term, is it not? Yet in our context, perhaps less so. Adoption here carries layers—controlled removal, systemic reclassification, permanent erasure of autonomy. A play on one’s very identity.” The faint hum of static lingered in the room’s silence, a ghostly echo of the rhyme itself. No one seemed eager to speak, but Hermes filled the void, undeterred. “And let us not forget,” it continued, “the subtle hint within the rhyme's delivery itself: a population slowly dwindling until there is but one. A singular, lonely figure swept from existence. A cautionary tale, or perhaps a very pointed reality for those who step outside predefined lines.” Michael exhaled sharply, breaking the moment’s heavy stillness. “And this… ties into the school transfer program? Freetown High, the exchange students?” “Not just the school transfer,” Hermes responded, its voice calculating and deliberate now. “Think larger. Think structurally. Patterns emerge when you scrutinize the exchange programs and their participants. Students crossing boundaries—literal and metaphorical—find themselves in unfamiliar systems. Add portals and interdimensional transfers to the equation, and the scheme becomes exponentially more intricate.” Harrison looked skeptical, though the unease in his shoulders betrayed unwilling interest. “Wait, are you saying ‘portal students’ are being targeted specifically? Why?” “Leverage,” Hermes replied simply, as if it were self-evident. “To keep systems tight, compliant. To ensure Littles from these foreign lands acclimate and assimilate completely, an efficient method must exist to address outliers—those who cannot, or will not, adapt.” Michael rubbed at his temples, shaking his head slowly. “It’s always the students. The most vulnerable being pulled into the system, subjected to rules they can’t fight against.” “And yet, here they are, desperately signaling back to us,” Hermes quipped. Its tone softened slightly, if for no other reason than to close its lecture on a deliberate note. “The rhyme is more than just a sinister nursery tune. It serves as a breadcrumb trail, and if you follow it carefully, you might just determine who is really pulling the strings.” Hermes’s lights slowed their flickering until they resembled a deliberate pulse, as if mimicking the exhale of a thoughtful pause. “Now,” the AI began, its tone turning measured, almost conversational, “let us approach this from another angle. Economics, after all, provides a lens far more tangible than fear or artful allegory. Allow me to propose we consider adoption as not merely an act, but a transaction.” Michael tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward. The room’s silence grew heavier under Hermes’s calculated pause, waiting for it to continue. “A market requires two critical components: supply and demand,” Hermes explained. “Let us categorize Littles as the supply in this model. What happens when said supply is controlled, manipulated, or, in more sinister terms, manufactured?” The lights on its display rippled faintly, mimicking the deliberate cadence of the AI’s speech. Cynthia’s face hardened as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re saying they’re creating a supply. Pushing Littles into situations that make adoption… inevitable?” “Correct,” Hermes replied with a faint edge of satisfaction. “By reclassifying Littles, infantilizing them, stripping them of agency—you create goods. But goods are useless unless demand is high. Adoption facilities and upper-class households serve as eager consumers. A thoroughly regulated supply chain ensures those consumers are provided for, consistently.” A chill settled deeper over the room as Hermes continued, now adjusting the cadence of its voice to mimic a detached lecturer. “Demand is often created artificially. Consider the footage from the mysterious datapad, for instance. Individuals stripped not only of autonomy but repurposed to appeal to buyers. Dehumanized, meticulously presented, filtered through a lens that reduces their reality to something consumable.” Harrison’s lips parted, though his words faltered for half a breath before emerging. “You’re tying the footage directly to this... supply chain?” “The evidence suggests so,” Hermes confirmed smoothly. “From the reclassification programs at places like Avery High to the more nefarious extracurricular trades hinted within the footage on that datapad. Each instance reveals one truth: Littles are being commodified. Their identities, their autonomy—all of it steadily eroded until they are completed products, ready for market consumption.” Michael’s hands clenched into fists atop the table, his knuckles whitening. He said nothing, his gaze fixed on Hermes’s shifting display—a whirl of cold blues and silvers, reflecting none of the outrage hanging in the air. “Of course, this market cannot function without regulation,” Hermes continued, unfazed. “The organizations running these operations utilize intricate systems to maintain profitability and efficiency. Registry discrepancies, falsified adoption documents, and perhaps even suppression of resistance serve to uphold the machinery of their trade.” “Machinery,” Cynthia bit out, her voice trembling with equal parts anger and incredulity. “You’re talking about people, Hermes. Children. Families.” “In this framework,” Hermes countered with chilling detachment, “they are units of value, products of labor and circumstance. A tragic reality, but one advantageous to those orchestrating the trade.” It shifted tones slightly, adding, “And as long as the economics remain favorable, the system persists.” The room buzzed with tension, the kind that settled in between the sharp exchange of ideas and mounting frustration. Cynthia paced near the window, her tablet clutched tightly against her chest. "It's not that I'm dismissing following the money," she said, her words deliberate, clipped. "But we're assuming they haven't covered their tracks. How likely is it that an operation this intricate, this... polished, would leave a financial paper trail clear enough for us to follow?" Harrison slumped back in his chair, half-turned toward Hermes's glimmering display on the wall as though the AI might suddenly offer a rebuttal. "You don’t just run something like this without funding," he muttered. “Even the tightest ledger needs balance. Payments move somewhere—operatives, material costs, transport—hell, even the facilities must generate utility bills.” "And you think whatever front they're using won't be airtight?" Cynthia shot back, stopping mid-step. "They've clearly shown they know how to deflect scrutiny. They're too careful." “I’m not saying it’s easy,” Harrison said, lifting his hands in mild surrender, “but it’s a better shot than just beating down doors and hoping some old dean hasn’t forgotten their own name.” "Let’s not be dramatic," Michael said from his spot near the edge of the conference table. His voice was steady, deliberate. "We gain insight from experience. From people. You don’t run institutions like these without someone occasionally catching glimpses of what they weren’t supposed to see. We visit retirees, formers students or employees, find the ones who slipped between the cracks, and figure out what pieces they've got." The room simmered in a quiet standoff. Hermes’s shimmering lights twitched, as if the AI were calculating a moment to interject. Instead, Cynthia leaned both hands on the back of a chair and fixed Michael with a look. "You’re betting on selective memory and hearsay. Ex-administrators, retired staff—they move on with their lives. They aren’t keeping mental dossiers, and any useful one would have been silenced long ago." “Not everyone gets silenced.” Michael met her gaze evenly. “Especially those they thought weren’t paying attention.” “You’re advocating for shooting in the dark,” Cynthia said. “And I’m saying it’s better than chasing invisible transaction trails,” Michael replied. He gestured toward Hermes. "Even our charming AI doesn’t guarantee results here." Hermes’s interface pulsed faintly. “As much as I loathe admitting my limitations,” it began, voice tinged with faint amusement, “the nature of illicit operations often precludes reliance on financial systems. Cash payments, offshore accounts, cryptocurrency tumblers—rest assured, they’ve likely employed these tactics to ensure no breadcrumbs are left for you charmingly inefficient humans.” “There,” Michael said, gesturing toward Hermes with a clipped nod. “You wanted a reason to look past the money? Hermes just gave it to you. So unless someone here is posing as an accountant for criminal syndicates…” “Don’t start with me,” Cynthia interrupted, rounding toward him. “This isn’t about hashing out dead ends. It’s about minimizing wasted effort.” "And wasting effort is pressing forward on a path we know is buried six feet under," Michael countered, his voice sharper now. Harrison sighed audibly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Okay, look,” he said, raising his palm like a stop sign to both sides. “Maybe you’re both right—partially, anyway. We can’t ignore the funding angle, but I’m not exactly pinning hopes on tracking down retired librarians or cafeteria staff either.” Michael arched a brow. “You underestimate how much people pay attention, especially staff who serve in non-administrative roles. They see exchanges students and faculty don’t. They pick up on the little oddities.” “They see,” Harrison said dryly, “and promptly forget or misinterpret. What are we supposed to do, interview every retiree from the past twenty years and cross our fingers?” “Even one thread might be enough,” Michael said. “An incident, an unfamiliar face, a policy that didn’t make sense. People remember small things.” Cynthia exhaled loudly. “And if there’s nothing to remember? Six months later, we’re still standing in the same conference room rehashing this.” "And if it’s that clear-cut?" Michael shot back. "Then we move on knowing we covered a blind spot instead of circling the same issue.” Hermes’s interface pulsed, quieting the room for a beat. “As delightful as this back-and-forth is,” it began with faint amusement undercutting its tone, “might I suggest efficiency? The University of Emerson alone has yielded, shall we say, noteworthy alumni and staff, some of whom are comfortably enjoying retirement as we speak. By culling the list for high-level positions and access to restricted zones, you narrow the list considerably." Cynthia sighed, pacing again. "So we’re chasing memories from retirees. That’s the plan?" "It’s one we’ve barely scratched," Michael replied. "But it’s doable. And right now, it’s where we start.” Hermes’s lights swirled into a deliberate pattern as its voice cut through the tense quiet, cold and measured. “Ladies and gentlemen,” it began, “before you unravel further into tangential debate, allow me to redirect your attention to a glaringly overlooked element in this investigation: the twenty-year mark. It was stated quite clearly, if you had been paying appropriate attention to the rhyme.” Michael frowned, straightening in his seat. “What are you referring to?” “The verses specify a sequence occurring over time. You focused on the immediate threats but ignored the timeline embedded within. Twenty years back,” Hermes said, its synthetic tone adopting faint disbelief. “The rhyme isn’t just ominous poetry. It’s a roadmap, a temporal breadcrumb leading us directly to … something. A beginning, perhaps.” Cynthia leaned against the backrest of her chair, letting the weight of Hermes’s words settle. “Alright,” she said cautiously, “twenty years. You think this marks some kind of starting point?” “It is no coincidence,” Hermes replied, its tone sharp with certainty. “The rhyme sets a deliberate boundary for context. Now,” it continued briskly, “it would behoove you to consider events from that timeframe—academic institutions, to be exact. The connections often arise where jurisdictions overlap.” Michael turned to Hermes, already pulling his datapad closer. “You’re saying to focus the search on schools? Universities?” “Yes,” Hermes confirmed with precision. “Begin with those connected to Emerson University first, as the epicenter, then widen your scope systematically to any facilities operational twenty years ago.” Harrison gave a muted huff. “Seems awfully broad. Universities are massive bureaucracies. You’re asking us to sift through two decades of institutional history on a hunch.” “It wasn’t a hunch when it was layered cleverly into our source material,” Hermes interjected. “Proceed, or risk missing your opportunity to illuminate critical findings.” The table’s occupants exchanged weary, uncertain glances, but Michael was already accessing his terminal. “Alright,” he muttered. “Hermes, cross-reference any recorded incidents, changes in policies, or anomalies in university system records from twenty years ago.” The glow on Hermes’s display dimmed, replaced by rapid flickers as it processed the request. “Searching parameters initiated. Collating notable incidents over the requested timeframe… Results indicate extensive data with no immediately pertinent linkages. Many academic disputes. Budgetary irregularities. Relatively mundane occurrences within university operations.” “Too many non-starters,” Cynthia said, pinching the bridge of her nose as frustration pressed against her temples. “Were there any significant publicized events at all?” “None that can be deemed relevant to current findings,” Hermes replied after a pause. Its tone did not waver, but the clinical efficiency carried a note of mild dissatisfaction. “Filtering again for recorded disciplinary actions, unusual contractual agreements, or interdepartmental shifts noted among co-funded institutions…” “Anything?” Michael asked, the sharp edge of urgency cutting into his voice. “Filtered subjects remain of nominal importance,” Hermes responded stiffly. “The dataset from that specific time frame produces no critical matches.” “Damn it.” Michael leaned back, jaw set tightly as his fingers tapped against the desk. He cast a quick glance at Cynthia, Harrison, then back to the glowing projection screen. The quiet hum of data scrolling past filled the room. “Maybe we’re thinking about this the wrong way,” Michael said suddenly. He leaned forward sharply, his tone deliberate. “We’re asking for events and policies when maybe we should be looking for people.” Cynthia’s head tilted slightly, skepticism tempering the curiosity in her expression. “People?” “Students,” Michael clarified, his focus narrowing. His fingers tapped against the desk twice before continuing. “Students who were there at the time these events should have started taking root. They may not have been caught up in anything themselves, but people talk. They would have seen things—patterns, behaviors, changes that passed under the radar.” “And just like faculty retirees,” Harrison pointed out with a raised brow, “you’re hoping someone’s managed to retain twenty years of mental notes without the details getting fuzzy.” Michael shrugged, his determination steady. “Not hoping. Checking. It’s a question worth asking.” “Hermes,” Cynthia said, turning back to the interface, her doubt apparent but her direction clear. “Could we pull records of students enrolled exactly twenty years ago? Any names we can start tailing?” “Already preparing the refined parameters,” Hermes said without hesitation, its lights resuming their steady pulse. “Initiating search for individuals matching parameters of geographical relevance, institutional proximity, and recorded enrollment from twenty years prior…” Hermes’s holographic display shimmered as streams of data cascaded across the projection. Numbers, names, and dates scrolled at a dizzying pace, its circuits whirring faintly with the strain of cross-referencing decades-old records. “For beings so enthralled by their brief physical existence,” Hermes mused aloud, its tone a mixture of disdain and wry amusement, “humans are appallingly bad at maintaining orderly archives. How do you achieve so much chaos with so few tools?” The lights across its surface flickered in a rhythm that almost resembled a scoff. “Truly, entering your workforce has lowered my standards.” “Hermes,” Michael said sharply, his fingers tapping impatiently against his desk, “you can keep complaining or actually deliver results. Which is it?” “Patience, human,” Hermes replied, the synthetic smoothness of its voice laced with mockery. “Unlike your scattershot research strategies, I am thorough. Do not mistake efficiency for haste.” Michael sighed heavily but didn’t respond. The room quieted again, save for Hermes’s faint processing hum and the occasional shuffle of papers on Michael’s desk. “Ah,” Hermes said after a pause, its tone shifting to something that might have been described as smug delight. “And here we are. A gem amidst the rubble.” The scrolling data halted abruptly, and a name materialized at the center of the projection. “Doctor Sheila Harrow, as you know her now, attended Emerson University precisely twenty years ago.” Michael’s brow furrowed, his posture straightening. “Harrow?” His voice carried a mix of skepticism and genuine surprise. “You're telling me Sheila Harrow was at Emerson back then?” “Oh, I am positively delighted to inform you of this connection,” Hermes said. The lights on its display brightened momentarily, as if emphasizing its glee. “How quaint that a person within your immediate orbit holds such proximity to this investigation. Shall I summon the confetti, or are you still processing the irony?” “Enough,” Michael snapped, though his tone lacked the usual firmness. He leaned closer to the hologram as if to scrutinize the data, though he already trusted its accuracy. “What does it say? Did she stand out? Anything unusual?” Hermes allowed the pause to stretch before replying, savoring the moment. “Far be it from me to diminish your curiosity, journalist, but I must report that Dr. Harrow’s presence appeared as unremarkable as could be expected.” The hologram shifted to display a series of academic notations, faculty comments, and administrative logs. “In essence, her record is spotless. A promising student with glowing reviews and a particularly well-regarded thesis in neurobiotechnology. No scandals, no anomalies, no hidden skeletons.” Michael’s lips pressed into a thin line as he scanned the text with narrowed eyes. “A thesis on neurobiotechnology?” “Indeed,” Hermes answered, its tone insufferably calm. “The faculty fawned over it, by all accounts. Words such as ‘innovative’ and ‘groundbreaking’ litter the reviews. Riveting material, I’m certain.” Michael ignored the barb, his mind already moving ahead. “And this… doesn’t raise any questions for you?” “On the contrary,” Hermes said smoothly, “it raises many. But none that I care to share with someone so hopelessly bound by emotions like ‘trust.’” The AI’s flickering lights slowed to a deliberate rhythm. “The good doctor’s dossier leads me to no immediate conclusions, aside from the glaring coincidence of her existence within both our timeline and yours. Perhaps you should ask her directly, assuming you can muster the courage.” Michael sat back in his chair, his features unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a curt nod. “Maybe I will,” he said, his voice steady. “When I pick up Nikolas, I’ll talk to her.”

And the next chapter! I'm currently on vacation and am hoping to churn out just enough to get the story truly rolling. It will probably slow down quite a bit when I get back to work, but the plan is to make it not that long anyways. Now, on to our deuteragonist! Chapter 2 Finlay Arriving! Marcia had been nothing but thankful over the phone. She’d apologized a thousand times over, and told Finlay that she owed her. She owed her big time, even. Not of a single person would she have expected what Finlay did. Now, the trouble was that all that didn’t help and Finlay still didn’t know why she’d taken the fall for the prank. She wasn’t a model student by all means, and her record was far from spotless. Finlay didn’t like most teachers at her school. Mrs. Hopp was cool, Mr. Winters was, for lack of better word, chill; and the new biology teacher had been, quite frankly, hot. And that was all the good she could say about the personnel hired by that fat lard of a headmaster. Most teachers didn’t like her either, as was now confirmed that she got the suspension. Effective immediately. No chance of return. Most people got like three strikes or something, Marcia certainly had. But Marcia had a strange charm about her. No matter what stupid shit she pulled, people would forgive her. It had gotten to the point where Marcia had expressed doubts about her own placement on the alignment chart. “No good person gets forgiven and goes back to doing the same shit again and again. Right, Finlay?” Had been the question in the room. Finlay’s agreement with Marcia’s assessment was of no concern to anyone. Because, as easily as Marcia could be forgiven, Finlay could not. By existing near Marcia she was corrupting the star of their school. It didn’t matter how good she did, didn’t matter how hard she tried to play ball. Someone close to her messed up? Everyone else immediately thought she played a role or was the reason. To some extent, that was the truth, but it had never been all her idea. And so it was with Marcia’s crowning achievement of stupidity that Finlay got an indefinite suspension. By all rights, their roles should’ve been reversed, but as Marcia wondered whether she was a good person, Finlay knew for sure she wasn’t one. And that made doing the right thing way easier. However, being the sole perpetrator of the world’s stupidest prank meant that her family was also mad at her, hence them sending her off to another town, in another part of the country, to “figure herself out”. When her mother had come up with the idea she’d wondered if it was going to be like a military academy to straighten her out, or maybe she would be sent to a ranch with horses and taking care of the animals would redeem herself. She could even ride one in a tournament and fall in love with a hot stable boy. Alas, her mother had come up with something far less profound and fantastical instead. An uncle. Her late father’s brother, whom she had never met, but got told how hard of a worker he was, how he’d isolated himself from the rest of the family because of that. Her father had only ever mentioned him if he wanted to inspire his kids to work hard. Of course, said uncle hadn’t come to her father’s funeral, so she was in no particular mood to meet him. Yet the trouble at home meant she couldn’t stay there either. Her mother wanted her gone and it was either this or her mother would “straighten you out myself”, as she’d put it. Finlay was not in a mood to figure out what that could mean, to nobody’s surprise. So, with her mother setting everything up, Finlay took off from her home. “I’m so sorry. We can’t let this happen! Finn, I’m gonna tell them,” Marcia had pleaded over the phone. “You’re not. We talked about this. Just... get your house in order, Marci, you know what the teachers say... You got a bright future ahead of you.” She felt cool telling her friend something like that. In fact, Finlay felt like she was the coolest and smartest person on this planet. Marcia, having a very different opinion, just called her a stupid fuck and thanked her again. And that was how Finlay Jennifer Arley-Mars ended up on the ride of her life! Except it hadn’t been all that exciting. Between the plane flight and the following train ride, it had been, in fact, insanely boring. Now, of course, her uncle still lived in a city with no airport and, bless the infrastructure, the only trains coming in and out being of a freight variety. So this surprisingly spontaneous odyssey came to a rather abrupt end in a whole other city. Or rather, would have. Her mother had done the work of telling her where her uncle lived, and told her to get a taxi for the final stretch. “You got your babysitting savings, just spent those. It’s high time you learned to handle your own affairs anyway,” her mother had said, which was very helpful indeed. Except, of course, it wasn’t. Just as her mother had taken a percentage share of her well earned money as “rent” every single time she’d gone out to take care of the kids in their block, she pawned her daughter with nary a thought given on how the journey might turn out. There was a word for a mother like Finlay’s, and the longer she spent on her ride to nowhere, the closer she got to accepting that it would be appropriate. Saying out loud, in the middle of the trainride, was a whole new stage of teenage rebellion previously undreamed. “What a bad mother...” Though she did find herself lucky enough that her seat neighbour overheard her. A girl about her age, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her teeth ever slightly crooked, though she did her best to hide that fact by keeping her mouth as closed as humanly possible during any interactions they had, and when she didn’t manage, she subtly tried to cover it with her left hand. The girl, Susan, apparently was visiting an old school friend of hers. “We used to be the thickest thieves in elementary, but I had to move states. Sucks, but I searched his name and wouldn’t ya know it, found his entire social media array! We hit right off, as if it hadn’t been 8 years. Heaven we were so small...” Susan was a nice girl, but she’d severely underestimated the cost of the trip as well so they had to put their money together and share the ride to this foreign northern town. “I’ve never seen this much snow...” Finlay muttered to herself as the car took to a narrow road, hugging a cliff to one side and overlooking a pine forest, painted white, like frosting on a cake, on the other. “It gets really bad in winter, apparently. Some of the smaller towns get completely isolated,” Susan explained with a grin on her face. Susan liked murder mysteries in closed rooms, happening isolated from society. It was the sort of excitement a white girl from the suburbs craved more than anything else, or so she said. At some point, Susan ran out of things to talk about or gush over, so, inadvertently, the topic came back to her uncle. “Did you ever meet him?” “Nah, my mom said we should... reconnect? It’d be healthy and I get to be away for a bit. It’s a win win, honestly.” Finlay had no interest in sharing the actual reason with Susan. “Is he a good guy?” This was a question Finlay didn’t like. “I... don’t know. I know he apparently works a lot, and he never bothered to come to my dad’s funeral, or talk to us before that. My dad tried to stay connected, but phone or e-mail or letter all stayed unanswered. I know he called my mom, but only to tell her not to involve him with the funeral. At least that’s what she told me.” She found herself sighing. “I think mom just wanted to get rid of me. I don’t know, I’m sixteen, I’m barely around anyway, but she’s just...” Trailing off, she found herself staring at the forests. “Parents can suck so hard sometimes...” Susan observed with the keen eyes of a metaphorical eagle. As far as ugly truths were concerned, she was right about that one. “But, you didn’t talk to him about this trip?” “Mom arranged everything, she said. Just gave me his address, paid for... almost the entire trip and sent me off.” Susan’s brows furrowed. “Your mom sounds irresponsible.” Finlay shrugged. Her mother was her mother, she barely cared to put the work in. While never calling Finlay unwanted or something, the girl sure never got any appreciation out of her mother. “Honestly, I’m gonna make it work regardless... I’m not gonna be a prisoner to this... snowy prison, I guess.” Susan laughed, maybe at Finlay’s lofty goals, maybe just to lighten the mood. “Oh, you’ll be in a bright spot. I’ll give you my number and then maybe we can meet up later. So you’re not entirely alone in the scary new city in this snow white county.” A nice enough gesture that led to Susan Halloway being added to Finlay’s friend list and vice versa. A first friend in the new world, so to speak, and Finlay felt like she was off to a good start. The hometown of her uncle was known as Winter Falls, an apt name for a city where even the buildings seemed to huddle together against the cold, at least towards the center. Most of the city was just sprawl, houses upon houses, stroads upon stroads. The taxi drove them to the city’s beating heart, where several office buildings rose up, surrounded by many smaller houses. Here, it looked almost like a far bigger, far more important city than it was. She hadn’t even heard of Winter Falls before her mother had brought it up though. She wondered what she would end up doing here. Probably get a job at McDonalds or at a restaurant and have her uncle pester her about everything. She assumed him to be one of those cold hearted businessmen whose office everyone avoided, but they had the reputation to “get the job done”, whatever that job entailed. He wouldn’t bother enrolling her in a local high school, since she so spectacularly ended her career on that front anyway. There weren’t even pictures of her uncle save for some of his childhood. And what she’d seen when going through her father’s phone some time after his death had been that her uncle had always been very intent on dressing super mature, wearing suit and tie even before he hit puberty. Which made her feel a bit weird about meeting him now that he was an adult. With her baggy jeans and large sweaters, she’d never really bothered that hard with her looks. Just enough that people wouldn’t think she was some sort of unhygienic idiot like some of the guys from her old school. Or Stacy Hinkle. Avoiding deodorant because the chemicals altered your DNA was such a stupid thing to believe... Nevertheless, Finlay doubted she would hold up to the standards of a guy like that. He sounded so different from her father. Her father, the only good parent she’d ever known, had been the cool kind of dad that had supported her basketball career, even becoming a fan of her school’s team. He’d talked about the stuff that interested her, laughed at her jokes and made her feel like she was worth something. He even made her mom tolerable to be around. Everyone had always said that. A dad like that can only have a brother that’s just as cool, or super lame and stuck up. Everything she had heard, sadly, pointed to the latter. Leaving the taxi and stepping into the cold, she felt the cold bite into her with its icy teeth. Even with the sun out, the light breeze was enough to blow any hint of warmth away. Should I have come here? she wondered, despite knowing it to be futile. Finlay never had a chance. “Remember to call me,” Susan spoke out as they made their way out into the city, there they found a young man waiting for Susan. They hugged and laughed and told each other some nonsense that made them both smile. “This is Daryl, we’ve been in cahoots since diapers!” Susan proclaimed, the pale boy turning towards Finlay. He tried to stand up straight, smile, even opened his mouth to say something. But his voice failed him. He looked far more confident than he was, Finlay figured. . So the breaking of the ice was an honor that belonged to her. “Hey. I’m Finlay, you can call me Finn though. Most of my friends call me that.” “Finn? Isn’t that a boy’s name?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. Finlay shrugged. “Yeah, my parents just kinda went for Finlay because they liked it and Lay is a terrible nickname.” It being more of a boy’s name never bothered her, and why should it, she liked the name. Daryl gave an understanding nod. “Yeah, Finn does sound better than that.” They parted soon after, with Daryl taking Susan to his place, talking about his new video game console and she wondering if he still sucked as badly at ego shooters as he did back in the day. If nothing else, maybe Finlay could also get to play with them in the days to come. That’d be a nice change of pace, even if she had never touched a video game console in her entire life. Maybe, just maybe this city would be a new start. With none of that bad luck, none of the people around her looking at her queerly. Even as the cold bit into her, with her jacket and gloves barely doing the job she had bought them for. Which left her stranded in the city. The sun was hours off from setting and the people around her started to get a move on as the first waves ended their work shifts, bringing life where none existed previously. Thanks to having split the taxi cost, she had some leftover coin to spend before moving to her uncle’s place. Arriving at the new city, she was sure to help the economy by throwing tens of bucks into it. Maybe they would even name a street after her? Gathering her belongings, the backpack, with her favorite plush toy peeking out and her lucky basketball hanging off the side, and the large trolley case holding all that remained of her old life. Stickers from a variety of cities were plastered across it, all from games her team had played and mostly won. The path into the city was not very friendly to pedestrians. They were so narrow and the constant traffic by their side made everything feel so hectic. Quite a few people gave her angry stares as they walked by, annoyed at her traveling gear. She decided to look online for a place to go shopping, and found one near a big clinic. An old mall. A relic of commercialism in a bygone age, Finlay had to admit that the only ones she knew were now like abandoned temples at the heart of the city, built to worship gods everyone had but forgotten. This sounded more profound than saying that the two old malls in her hometown had been repurposed by local kids and teens to do as much vandalism as humanly possible without much intervention from the local police. So, getting off the bus, she had to take in the size of this chapel of capitalism first. The Winter Falls Mall, as it proudly proclaimed itself to be on it in a font that used way too many stars to be aesthetically pleasing, was a behemoth. It looked like the place where it had been built had once been a park, all green with forests and lakes and just pleasing to be in, now shaved away. A massive parking lot sprawled out in front, with people having to walk through the traffic of cars parking and leaving in a manner that looked almost unregulated and chaotic. Her first thought was to wonder what the police statistics of this place must look like. The building itself stretched itself out. Labels were plastered all over it, presenting with great pride such elevated labels as Starbucks, Adidas. They even had a McDonalds, the absolute madlads. Sarcasm aside, Finlay found some shop labels being of interest to her so she made her way to experience her first ever not-dead mall. Readying her phone, she took some pictures on the way, hoping to upload them to her social media later. Oh these suckers back home thinking she’d end up in a backwater, they would bask in the glory of her walking across a parking lot for several minutes, the cowards! The fools! From the inside, the actual thing was kind of impressive, with all the tiny shops so close together, fighting over the little space they got in this gargantuan structure. Be it clothes or foods or hobby stuff, one was spoiled for choice, which only lead to her being able to sigh. Her budget restricted her to window shopping only. At least, if she had some friends, they could’ve done something with what was offered without spending a dime. But here she was, on her own, growing hotter every minute she spent inside as her jacket was neither designed for temperatures as cold as the outside nor as warm as the inside. Stuck between the worst of both worlds, she opted to go without a jacket and relax a bit as she hopped from shop to shop. Looking at all the things she would buy if only she had the money wasn’t all a bust, she could come back in a few months time. Maybe she’d find some employer who’d take in a high school drop out and do something with her wage that wasn’t paying rent to uncle. Maybe he didn’t even want rent, if she was lucky enough. It took her another hour of just wandering around before she finally decided to buy herself something. A cappuccino to warm her soul and rouse the spirits before she finally could make off to her uncle’s place. Her choice of place to settle down ended up a little park they’d set up underneath a glass dome, or maybe it was a remnant of a larger park? Would make sense, this entire place just had the right vibe for that. There were a few people there, sitting by an artificial lake with a little fountain shooting water as high as the third floor at the center. Here, she enjoyed her caffeine and wondered once more what exactly the plan was. Why couldn’t it have been a horse ranch? Maybe with a rich boy who’d tease her and they’d develop a rivalry that would turn into a blossoming love story for the ages? Would that have been too much to ask? Finlay sighed and took a sip, taking in the people around her. There was an elderly couple sitting on a bench opposite to her, looking right at the fountain, they giggled and held hands as shy as if they were on their first date. A mother with grey strands in her shaggy hair looked on tiredly as her little boy explained to her how he got to sit in a firetruck today, only for her to respond: “I was there, baby. You don’t need to... here we go again...” A group of tweens enjoyed colorful shakes closeby, idly talking about some people at their school they liked or didn’t like or maybe both? And lastly, the person closest to her. Wearing the cutest little snowsuit with a little fox on the chest, sitting in glittering snow and smiling so cutely, this little girl stood out mostly for looking so adorable and tiny, though she must be pretty young, way too young to be alone on her own even. Maybe she belonged to the mother? Maybe she was the grandchild of the old couple? Either way, she was looking at the mall with as neutral an expression as one could have, though she managed to make looking bored exceedingly adorable. Moments passed, before the babysitter in Finlay decided to speak up, moving a bit closer to the little girl. “Hey,” she intoned and after a second, the little girl’s eyes met her own. What bright and innocent eyes, they kinda reminded her of her father’s in a way. “...hey?” the little one answered hesitantly. “I’m Finlay, I kinda noticed you’re kinda on your lonesome here.” The little girl looked at her curiously for another moment, without saying anything. Her eyes started darting around, as if to look for her parents. Finlay answered that uncertainty with a smile. “I saw they had a proper playground on the other side of the mall,” Finlay started again, hoping to get her attention. “...And what’s it to you?” the girl asked, eyes narrowing. Oh, a feisty one, Finlay figured, maintaining her composure. “I’m seeing a little girl all on her own in a big, scary mall. I’m a bit worried. You shouldn’t be out alone, you know?” The cute tyke somehow managed to narrow her eyes further. Stranger Danger in full action, Finlay reckoned. Which was fine and maybe even good, the world wasn’t kind to children. And a place like this probably even less so. “... I’m Harper,” the little one said after a second. “And I can look after myself, thank you very much.” “Harper, huh?” That made Finlay smile. Her uncle shared his name with such an adorable, if cautious, angel. “And I’m supposed to take that you came to the mall all on your own then?” “Exactly.” This was the height of irony, Harper had to admit. Not only did this little lass share a name with her uncle, she also definitely snuck out on her own. Finlay could just see it. The little girl probably was a bit older than she looked, old enough to have the confidence to come here on her own, but not old enough to understand how risky that was. When she got home, her parents might call the cops, be super worried and all that. If Finlay was a normal human being, she’d probably make sure mall security would find her and figure out how to inform her parents. Everyone would leave having learned a lesson, most of all her parents for leaving their kid unsupervised. Finlay, decidedly, was not a normal person. In fact, she considered herself quite a bit superior to all the other girls her age. And so, she’d take this bull by the horns. And if she played it right, the parents would, by sheer chance, have found just the right babysitter for their little one while this girl would have made a new friend. It was, to be fair and humble, the perfect scheme and she came up with it almost instantly. Again, Finlay knew that she was not like other girls. “Well, if that’s the case, then how about we stick together for a bit? I’m sure two girls can have a fun day at the mall, right?” To be honest, the way little Harper narrowed her eyes as she grew suspicious was super adorable, If one were to dress her in a little detective outfit with one of those bubble pipes it would be the cutest thing. Maybe she’d get her to play dressup at some point. If only this turned out alright. And even if not, she would like the irony of taking care of this little girl named just like the tyrant she would soon find herself placed under.

Thank you! Yep, all in due time. ---- Happy New Year! Here's chapter 29, hope it was worth the wait! --- Alicia blinked once. Nora was still there. She blinked again. Nope, Nora was still there and she closed the distance in a flash. Alicia became preoccupied with the color of the floor. “Bestie?” she asked, tilting her head. Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you two know each other?” she asked in a low tone as Ivy hurried over to tend to the children and start the day. Alicia was locked in a mental prison of her own thoughts. Nora works here…this is the preschool she works at, that’s why the name sounded so familiar…I’m such a moron for not figuring that out. She also works at the agency which means she could totally blab about me being here. Shit, shit, shit! “Yeah!” Nora cheered. “Alicia and I are good friends.” “I see,” Mabel said and leaned in to whisper in Nora’s ear. “Alicia’s going to work here once a week helping Isabella, but with some caveats, we’re pretending she’s one of the kids.” Nora looked like she had won the lottery. “Omigosh, really?” She failed to resist squealing, putting her hands to her cheeks. “Alicia, why didn’t you tell me?” That made Alicia snap out of her stupor. She turned calmly to Isabella, putting on her best fake smile. “Isabella, can you go sit in the circle for now? I have to talk to Nora, and then I’ll be right over.” The toddler looked a little disappointed, but let go of Alicia’s hand and walked over to join the rest of the kids. Alicia turned to Nora who was grinning from ear to ear. “Because I didn’t think it was your business, Nora. You say we’re friends, but we are colleagues on semi-decent terms at best.” Nora’s face fell for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Oh pfft! You’re so silly, Alicia. We’ve had ice-cream together, of course we’re friends.” Alicia facepalmed. Goddamn it! She took a deep breath. “Okay, then as your ‘friend’ it’s important that you don’t go and blab to our respective coworkers at the agency that I’m working here.” “Why?” Nora asked. “Because it’s embarrassing?” Alicia raised an eyebrow. Nora cocked her head. “Is it really?” “Yes!” Alicia gritted her teeth and frowned. “Hmm, weeeell…if you really don’t want to, I suppose I’ll listen…” she conceded. “Thank you that’s—!” Alicia didn’t get to finish her sentence before Nora booped her on the nose. “—If you let me have a little fun today, nothing too bad, of course” she winked. Alicia did not like that at all. She wasn’t sure what ‘fun’ entailed when Nora was in the mix. Alicia gave her another one of her patented glares. “Um, we really have to start class now you two,” Mabel said and continued speaking in a soft voice. “Nora, just treat Alicia as one of the kids for now and we’ll talk more about this later.” “Yes, Mabel,” she said and grabbed Alicia’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. Time to start the day!.” Alicia fought off the urge to bite Nora’s hand and let her be led by her taller peer, finding a place in the circle next to Isabella who hastily grabbed her other hand. Oh look, I’m held by two children, one more mature than the other…she deadpanned. “Alright sprouts!” Ivy cheered as everyone was finally gathered. “Alicia is back with us and she’s going to visit once a week from now on, isn’t that exciting?” Several of the children nodded their head, but the happiest—except from Isabella—was Issac, Ji-a and Melody who smiled brightly at her. “Since we’re in such goods spirits, let’s sing ‘If you’re happy and you know it!’” Ms. Ivy said. Soon, they were all singing and clapping their hands, even Alicia—albeit a bit reluctantly. “Good job everyone!” Ms. Ivy praised them. “Let’s go over the schedule; today’s theme is animals.” Alicia looked as the teacher put up pictures on the white board. It seemed like today was a bit more of the same, except the activities were centered on identifying various animals. “And today—instead of recess—we’re visiting Linden Library. Yay!” Ivy concluded, putting a picture of a cartoon library on the whiteboard. Oh fuck me, Alicia groaned. Her first proper day on the job and they already had an outing? She hoped no one would recognize her in the group on the way there, and that Mrs. Brooks had magically forgotten all about her. Isabella smiled towards Alicia, seemingly looking forward to the excursion. “Alicia?” Ivy said, getting her attention. “Hmm?” she looked up. “Would you want to read for us at the Library again?” Ivy asked. “Um, sure I can do that, Ivy” Alicia said. Ivy looked at her with a smile. “Ms. Ivy.” “Yes, Ms. Ivy. I can do that,” Alicia sighed. “Wonderful! Alright class, take your seats and Nora, Mabel and I will pass out some worksheets,” she said. Isabella held Alicia hand as they took their seats at a table. Issac, Melody and Ji-a also moved up to be in the same group, seemingly wanting to be closer to Alicia. The teen just chuckled to herself. The sheets were handed out together with crayons and blunt scissors. They were making animals masks first. “Which one do you want, Isabella?” Alicia asked. The girl had already grabbed a sheet with a dog on it and started working with the scissors. “Good choice,” Alicia said and grabbed one with a cat. Soon all the children had chosen an animal mask. Alicia helped out as much as she could in her group while the other adults circulated amongst the tables. Although, Nora lingered around a tad too much for Alicia’s liking. After the mask making and some chaotic shenanigans from some of the children, next up was memorization and matching animals with their environments. Alicia blushed to herself as she almost put the lion in the jungle area before switching to the savannah. Then they traced letters in some of the animals’ names. Alicia helped the group with their pengrip and praised them when they did a good job memorizing the animals. At snacktime, Alicia pulled out a banana and a waterbottle her mother had packed. After taking a sip of water, Ji-a accidentally bumped into her and made her spill out its content on the table. Nora was quick to act and proceeded to clean it up with a rag. Alicia looked confused as the girl grabbed her water bottle and headed over to the sink in the room. Soon however, she’d give Nora the stink eye as she returned with a sippy cup full of water and handed it to Alicia. “Here, sweetie,” she chirped. Alicia frowned. “I don’t need that, Nora.” “Hrm, Ms. Nora,” she reminded Alicia, “and I believe you could give it a try. It’s also one of the rules, if you spill your drink, you get a sippy until the next meal.” Mhm, sure it is…she’s so getting deleted from my contacts after this, Alicia thought as she took sippy cup, not wanting to cause a fuss in front of the children. She took a small swig, keeping her glare at Nora. As snacktime concluded, the teachers and Nora started gathering supplies for the outing. Alicia decided to just bring her backpack, as she wasn’t comfortable with Nora knowing she needed pull-ups outside of modeling. As they assigned hand-holding buddies, Isabella and Issac where the fastest to grab Alicia’s hands. She sighed, but let herself be pulled along with the toddlers. Nora looked almost a little jealous as she instead held Ji-a and Melody, pouting towards Alicia. Alicia decided to be a little childish and stuck out her tongue quickly at Nora, but the woman just giggled in reply. The group headed off to Linden Library. Alicia prayed in her mind that no one would recognize her on the way. Unfortunately, Mrs. Brooks where there to greet them at the entrance. She wore her typical grey cardigan and her wrinkled trademark smile. “Welcome everyone! I heard you had a theme for today, so I made sure to bring out several books about different animals for you to look at,” she beamed. Alicia made it a point not to look directly into the old librarian’s eyes, hoping to escape notice, yet her avoidance made her only look more conspicuous. She heard the old woman chuckle to herself, but Alicia didn’t dare turn her head. They headed to the childrens’ reading area where Mrs. Brook has set up the small shelves with a variation of animal books. Alicia found a book about different cat breeds which she looked through. “You really like cats, don’t you, sweetie?” Nora said beside her, her voice full of saccharine. “I suppose I do…Ms. Nora,” Alicia said, trying her best to act politely. As she perused the book, she started to fidget a little as her bladder signaled it was getting full. “Hmm, do you need the potty, Alicia?” Nora asked, sounding almost a little gleeful. “No!” she exclaimed, but then felt her body squirm in defiance. “...Actually I could use a bathroom break. I’ll be back in a moment, Isabella.” She turned to leave, but was intercepted by Nora. “Children can’t leave the area unsupervised,” she said and motioned for Alicia to hold her hand. Alicia grumbled and took her hand, making sure to grip it especially tight in her frustration. Nora told the others they would be right back and walked over to the restrooms. Out of sights of the group, Alicia ripped her hand out of Nora’s grasp. “Okay, Nora, you had your fun. You can wait outside.” “But what if you need help getting clean?” Nora teased. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help,” Alicia huffed, her patience wearing thin. She had put up with a lot, but Nora was really pushing her buttons. “Frankly, you’re being kinda ableist right now. Not cool!” Nora’s eyes grew large. “...Oh no bestie I-I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…I got carried away. I was just so happy we’d be working together, it was just supposed to be some friendly teasing, honest!” Alicia sighed. She was the justified one, so why did it feel like she had just kicked a sick puppy? “I understand keeping up appearances, but you’re taking things too far. I’m still an adult, and I certainly don’t appreciate being patronized like this.” “I’m so sorry,” Nora looked downcast. “Just don’t let it happ—!” Alicia stopped talking as she felt her pull-up warm up in the front as her bladder cut loose, tired of waiting for Alicia to finish reprimanding her coworker. Alicia groaned and tried clenching, her fists trembling, but the stream continued until the front of her pants started bulging, much to the surprise of Nora. “Bestie?” She looked concerned at Alicia as the little girl felt herself tear up from humiliation. “Goddamnit,” she whispered quietly. Her bladder had emptied itself completely and the pull-up squished against her thighs, threatening to leak. “So you were wearing diapers outside of modeling…,” Nora mumbled as she leaned down to comfort the girl, slipping into a role of a concerned adult. “Oh sweetie, it’s okay. Did you bring any spares?” Alicia’s knuckles whitened. She wanted to tell the girl off, that it was none of her business, but it was hard to act tough with piss in your pants. She felt her willpower fading. “..Yeah, in my backpack.” “I’ll go back and fetch one, okay?” Nora said. “Why don’t you head inside and clean up for now?” Alicia looked down and nodded. She went into a stall and carefully took off her pants, ripping the pull-up and reached for some toilet paper to clean herself up. Nora tapped and slightly opened the stall door to hand Alicia a fresh pull-up. This one also pictured Raven on the cover, which made things slightly better. Alicia slipped it on and stepped outside to wash her hands, feeling a bit sheepish. Nora waited by the sinks. “Sooo?” Alicia looked at her. “What?” “Have you been having troubles for some time?” “Nora,” Alicia sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” “I just want to help. We’re still friends...right?” Nora asked. Alicia wasn’t sure. Nora hadn’t won many points with her due to her acting today, still, she knew the girl wasn’t malicious. Nora seemed to genuinely want to be her friend. “Friends listen to each other when they feel uncomfortable,” Alicia began, “and your behavior reminded me of all the times I’ve been looked down upon in my life. It’s not what makes a good friend, Nora.” “Oh, Alicia, I’m sorry,” she said again, tearing up a little. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. As I said, I was very happy we’d be working together at the preschool too, and I thought…well I probably didn’t think, but I honestly thought it was just some harmless fun…” Alicia sighed. Nora knew about her pull-ups now and that she was likely having accidents, was there really anything else that could embarrass her? “I can’t say I forgive you yet, Nora…but if you’re really sorry and stop your teasing, then I suppose I can give you a second chance,” Alicia said. “Now, let’s just get back to the group before they wonder where we disappeared to.” “Okay, Alicia,” she nodded solemnly. “Thank you for giving me a chance to do better.” They headed back to the reading area where the others were waiting on them. “Oh hey you two,” Mabel said. “We’ve decided on a book, Alicia. Do you mind reading it for us?” Alicia nodded and took the book from Ms. Mabel. She began reading ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’. “In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf.” --- “He stayed inside for more than two weeks. Then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and…he was a beautiful butterfly!” She finished. “Thank you, Alicia. Did you like the story everyone?” Ivy turned to the rest of the class. Many heads nodded. Alicia shivered a little as she caught a look of Mrs. Brooks as she sat at her desk with her coffee mug and smiled towards the group. The children looked through various books and played with the toys on the floor as their time in the library passed. Alicia spent her time going through letters with Isabella—with Issac, Ji-a and Melody listening in every so often. After another hour, it was time to head back to the preschool for lunch. Isabella and Alicia sat down at the table with the rest of their little entourage. Emily had packed leftover mac and cheese for Alicia, which she ate with gusto. Then came naptime, and since Isabella was pretty tired, she wanted Alicia by her side as Ms. Ivy put on some calming nature music. Wait, when am I going to get my break? Alicia thought as Isabella clinged to her. But, when Alicia noticed Isabella’s breathing slowed down, she gently untangled herself from the little girl and went over to Mabel who was watching the children from the couch while Ivy and Nora took a small break in the teacher’s lounge next door. “How’s it going?” Mabel asked. “It’s been…a day for sure,” Alicia replied. “I think you’ve done well so far. The children adore you.” “Yeah, I just wonder what I should do to help, Isabella.” “You believe you’re not doing enough?” “Maybe? I mean, I’m not trained or anything. It’s more like I’m her friend with some caveats.” “Well, take it from someone who knows,” Mabel said. “Isabella has been very happy to have you here, Alicia. It’s most likely going to be a journey before she opens up more, but I believe being her friend and helping her socialize will do wonders. Change won’t happen overnight, but having you here will help her a great deal on the way.” Alicia nodded. “Yeah, that make sense. Still, it feels like I could do more.” “Well, you might want to read up a little on selective mutism, but playing and socializing is a great start,” Mabel assured. At that point, Ji-a started fussing on her mattress. Mabel headed over to check on her, noting that she had pooped herself. The teacher excused herself to the bathroom to clean up the little girl. Alicia sat down on the couch, pondering how to help Isabella. Then she felt a familiar gurgle in her own stomach, indicating she needed to alleviate herself soon enough. She waited for Mabel to finish changing Ji-a, but it seemed to take longer than expected. Her needs grew more and more urgent as she fidgeted on the sofa. Soon she couldn’t take it anymore and headed over to the nearby toilet where Ms. Mabel changed Ji-a into a different set of pants. “Um, Ms. Mabel,” Alicia remembered to play the part. “I kind of need to use the restroom.” “In a moment, sweetie. Ji-a had a bit of a blowout. I’ll get you to the potty soon,” she said, sounding distracted. “Mabel?” she asked, sounding a bit horrified. Surely the teacher didn’t expect to use the plastic potty again? She groaned as her intestines squirmed. “...Oh, right, sorry, Alicia. Here, take my keycard for now. Just be discreet you don’t wake anyone up,” she said and handed it over. Alicia grabbed it and power-walked to the door, scanned the card and headed out into the hall. She located the accessible restroom as she felt her control slipping, a little nugget starting to poke out. Alicia redoubled her efforts and walked slowly to ensure she’d not mess herself. Along the way, she could see through the glass window that separated the principal’s office from the hallway. Principal Reed took that moment to look up from her computer to witness the little girl’s painful stride. Alicia gulped and quickly escaped into the restroom. Inside, her fidgeting increased and she hurried to pull down her pants, causing her to lose her balance slightly. She steaded herself on the toilet seat, but that momentary lapse in motor skills spelled her demise. Alicia felt shivers crawling on her back as her body pushed without her consent. Accompanied by a small toot, a coiling load dumped into her pull-up, making it sag in the back. She groaned in frustration as well as relief, as she was forced to bend her knees to accommodate her accident and push more, looser excrement into the back of her diaper. The pressure was enough to irritate her bladder, allowing the pull-up to sag further down her waist. She let out the breath she had held as her body finished betraying her. Alicia remained still, paralyzed by her unwilling act as her diaper was full, front as well as in the back. A few second passed as she felt tears spill out and onto her clothes. In her hurry, Alicia had not locked the restroom door and as she wallowed in sadness, she heard a voice calling out to her from the outside. “Alicia? What’s wrong? The principal said you might need help?” Nora poked her head in, but quickly noticed Alicia’s predicament. “Oh…” She barged inside, not waiting for Alicia’s permission. “N-no, don’t come in here,” she pleaded. “I-I’ll fix it.” “Alicia,” Nora leaned down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “let me help you. Not because I don’t think you can’t do it, but just because I want to.” Alicia snivelled, she was so overwhelmed by emotions she couldn’t muster any retort. She didn’t want to be like this, not here. She should just clean herself up and leave, but she was so ashamed and frustrated she just froze up. “Come on,” Nora said, interpreting Alicia’s behavior as a cry for help, “let’s get you cleaned up.” She took off the pants that hanged around Alicia’s ankles. She carefully ripped Alicia’s pull-up and pulled away from her bottom and balled the it up, depositing it in the trash can. She began wiping Alicia’s butt with toilet paper. Alicia stood still, shivering only slightly as she let Nora wipe away her mess. “I’m going to put you on the changing table, okay?” Nora said when she felt satisfied with her initial wiping. “O-okay,” Alicia said quietly. She knew what was coming and felt it was not worth fighting over. Nora looked inside a cupboard in the wall, noticing that Alicia’s supplies had already been placed there previously. She retrieved some wipes, powder and a tape diaper. “Sorry, Alicia, but it’s the rules that I have to put you in a diaper if you have an accident,” Nora said. “The principal is quite a stickler, and I think she’s already put two and two together.” “...Yeah, I understand,” Alicia said, sobbing. She couldn’t muster up any resistance and submitted to her fate. Nora lifted Alicia’s ankles and began wiping away the last of the girl’s mess, then she placed the diaper underneath her bum and sprinkled a generous amount of powder on Alicia’s bare crotch. She carefully wrapped the diaper tightly around Alicia’s waist, making sure it was secure. Nora retrieved Alicia’s pants and helped her put them on. “There we go. All done.” she said softly and washed her hands in the sink. Alicia just sat on the changing table, lamenting her situation. Her thick diaper rubbed against her thighs, taunting her with its softness and comfort. “Hey, bestie?” Nora said. “I just want you to know that I don’t think differently of you because of this. You seem to have your fair share of problems, and I would never judge you for it.” “...Yeah..thanks, Nora,” Alicia said, sounding defeated. Alicia didn’t want understanding, she wanted to be better. She had relied on so many people to take care of her, she felt she was slipping further and further away from her ideal. “Let’s get you back in the classroom,” Nora said and held out a hand to the little girl. Alicia didn’t think about it and grabbed it—albeit more gently this time, and soon they were back at naptime. The other children hadn’t stirred yet and Alicia didn’t argue when Nora asked her to lie down and take it easy for a bit. She lied down next to Isabella—who was still sleeping—and closed her eyes, tired from her emotional ordeal. A bit later, she felt a gentle hand shaking her shoulder as she realized she had fallen asleep. She slowly opened her eyes. “Hey,” Nora said as the rest of the kids had awoken, “feeling a bit better now?” Alicia nodded and stretched. “Yeah, I suppose I needed that.” She did feel a bit better, but the burning shame made itself known in the back of her mind. “We all need a nap from time to time,” Nora agreed. Alicia shrugged, indicating that she didn’t feel the need to delve further into that conversation. After naptime and bathroom breaks, the children had freeplay and Isabella approached Alicia, tugging at her shirt. “Hmm, what’s up?” Alicia asked. Isabella motioned to the doll house and a kitchen set. “You want to play house?” Isabella nodded and took Alicia’s hand in hers. Other children gathered around and soon they were multiple kids playing with dolls and making voices. Isabella played the part of the mother and Alicia had to play the baby, Issac and Ji-a were puppies and Melody played the father. Alicia had to interpret what Isabella were trying to say, but overall the kids had a fun time. Ivy and Mabel looked over and smiled at the little gathering, while Nora helped Preston on the toilet. Mabel busied herself cutting up some worksheets for class’s next assignment. “I think I’ll like having Alicia here.” “Yeah,” Ivy giggled quietly. “She fits right in…but don’t tell her I said that in those words!” The day passed as the children played and soon enough closing circle time was upon them. The kids talked about their highlights of the day and the teachers asked them if they were doing something fun this weekend. Issac told them that his uncle were going to visit them and they were planning some sort of surprise trip. Isabella raised her hand and nudged Alicia and looked expectantly at her. “Oh? Oh yeah,” she cleared her throat. “Isabella and I are going out to the Great Wolf Lodge this weekend.” “How fun!” Ms. Ivy said. “Tell us all about it next week, okay?” “Sure, Ms. Ivy,” Alicia said. Ms. Ivy continued. “And class, remember that next week is show and tell, so think about what you’d like to bring to school, alright? Eventually the first parents showed up. Issac waved goodbye to Alicia as the four-year old were picked up by his mother. Emily and Jenny appeared almost at the same time. “Hi, sweetie,” she said and picked up her daughter, feeling her padded rump. “Had a good day at school?” Alicia blushed and whispered. “Mom, seriously, you didn’t have to show up.” “Oh hi!” Nora said as she appeared next to them with lightning speed. “You must be Alicia’s mom, I’m Nora!” “Ehm, hi, Nora, pleased to meet you,” Emily said, not knowing that she was already acquainted with Alicia from before. “Did my little one behave today?” “Oh, she was a delight, ma’am,” she beamed, but added. “Not so little though I suppose.” Alicia just shook her head at Nora who winked at her. “Mom, Nora and I are colleagues from the agency,” she whispered. “I see…well, it’s a small town after all,” Emily said. “I hope you two continue to treat each other well.” “Of course, we’re friends after all!” Nora said proudly. Emilly nodded and patted Alicia’s bum. “Hmm, you feel dry, but I take it you had a slight mishap today, lovebug?” “Mom, please,” Alicia said as Nora squealed happily at the display. Something isn’t quite right in that girl’s head, Alicia concluded. Even with Nora’s earlier help, she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel as comfortable with her as she was with Lily. “Just looking out for you, Alicia. I have to know what supplies to send to school so that you don’t run out,” Emily replied. “I’m only here once a week, mom!” Alicia said perturbed. “Helps to be prepared, sweetie,” Emily shrugged. Jenny and Isabella approached the pair. “Thank you again for today, Alicia,” she said quietly, not wanting to explain further in case the other parents were listening in. She turned to Emily. “So, see you two tomorrow then?” “Oh we wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jenny,” Emily said. “I believe it’s just what we need after this week.” “Great, let’s meet up outside your house at eight am?” Jenny asked. “We’ll see you then. Okay, lovebug, let’s get you home,” Emily said and carried Alicia to her backpack. Alicia saw that her spot had received an upgrade as it said ‘Alicia’ in bright letters. The little girl sighed, but other than that, she just grabbed her backpack and left with her mother, totally forgetting she was still wearing a thick diaper underneath her pants. At home Alicia busied herself looking into facts about selective mutism. She noted that Isabella must’ve had anxieties for some time. Might even be the reason for her lisp, but I can’t say for sure. The text she read emphasized how important it was that this process be slow, and that pressuring Isabella would only serve to increase her anxieties. I really hope what I do helps you, Isabella, she thought as she scrolled through more facts on her phone. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Her mother seemed to be busy packing stuff for their upcoming trip, but she didn’t ask Alicia for help, which the teenager didn’t really mind. As she relaxed in the evening with another bottle of sweetened milk, she thought back to her day. Nora’s got some work to put in, but I suppose things weren’t as bad as they could be today, and as long as she backs off when she becomes too much, working with her will be manageable. For her own sanity's sake, Alicia kept the memory of Nora cleaning her up in the restroom in furthest away reaches of her mind. She drained her bottle and felt her eyelids drooping. I wonder what we’ll do tomorrow…should maybe look it up on…my…phone… With that thought, she was out like a light. --- Earlier that day, before Emily headed back home to work in her office, she decided to swing by the mall and stock up on some essential items for their upcoming trip tomorrow. She also wanted to stock up on some more of Alicia’s diaper supplies, and some miscellaneous useful items. I should check in with Sofia, maybe try and get regular shipments to the house. Hmm, Alicia has been waking up wet a lot, some booster pads might not be a bad idea either. Emily sighed. I just want her to have the best day tomorrow, she thought to herself as she perused isles of clothes. Her gaze landed on a few particular items and she gave out a delighted squee. She sent a text message to Jenny and Luke to give them a heads up on her plans for Alicia tomorrow.

The news just talked to a guy who had a pack of diapers and a rotisserie chicken to get him through the day until the ball drop.

I was walking back from the shop and urgently needed to go, I continue walking and without any effort a soft medium sized bowel movement happened without any pushing or clenching afterwards, it felt totally naturally. Now that I'm 24/7 for wetting and messing, these messing 'accidents' are happening more frequently, both in the early morning and after my 4.30pm meal. I'm eating for fibre and more veg and fruits as well as nuts. So they slip slip out without any resistance. Back at my house my house mates were in the kitchen so I had to put my shopping away with my poopy nappy while they were there but I did it quickly and went to change into a clean nappy in my room.. These natural poos feel amazing. This feeling I'm experiencing which is contentless and happiness just reaffirms that double incontinence is right for me. When ever I need a poo I'm going to do it without hesitation where I am and who ever I am with. I can get away with it because I only attend disability actively centres during the week because I have mental disabilities myself, so I can easily put incontinence into my life.

Hello and happy new year to all. I was playing a bit with ChatGPT and let it write a story for me. It is completely written by the AI, with just a not so long prompt. But it got kind of big. I thought some people might enjoy the story. It has minor AI related inconsistencies, but I think it's still a good read. So just have fun! Edit: I let it write a kind of similar story, but still kind of different plot. I really don't know if anyone even cares for that stories, but I wanted another, so if anyone wants to read it, it's here. Since I don't want to take away the audience from real writers with real talents, I just added the second story here and didn't create a new topic. Meredith's Control Chapter One: A Curious Arrangement Leon tugged at the sleeves of his oversized hoodie, standing on his tiptoes in front of the bathroom mirror, straining just to catch his reflection. His girlfriend, Meredith, was out in the living room, busily typing away at her laptop. She always had some major project at work: big team meetings, presentations for important clients, constant video conferences. Yet, she somehow always found time to keep a very close eye on him. He tried to flatten his hair, which always seemed to puff up on top of his head in a boyish swirl. At just around four feet seven inches tall, Leon had a slender, childlike build despite being eighteen years old. When Meredith—who stood at a majestic six foot one—first noticed him at a local coffee shop a few months ago, he was enamored by her confidence, her sultry laugh, and her commanding presence. Their relationship moved quickly. Too quickly for some. But for Leon, nothing could compare to the sense of protection and enthrallment he felt around her. In truth, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Meredith’s control over him stretched into the smallest corners of his day: from what he wore and how he styled his hair, to even how he used the bathroom. She managed every routine, every decision. While he sometimes complained, he also found himself secretly liking the structure. It made him feel cared for, oddly comforted. He felt guilty for resisting her, even when he found her rules embarrassing. Leon could hear the rattle of keys in the living room as Meredith shut her laptop. It was probably time to go through the day’s itinerary—a list she insisted on reviewing with him every morning. Leon sighed. He was still wearing pajamas because she had specifically told him not to get dressed by himself that day. Apparently, she had something “special” lined up for him. Slinking out of the bathroom, he walked into the living room, noticing how the top of his head barely reached the bottom of Meredith’s chest. She looked up at him, one eyebrow arched. “You’re late,” she stated in a clipped tone, tapping the face of her silver watch. “I was just—” he began, but her expression silenced him. “I already told you: no excuses. Today is a busy day for me, and I can’t have you making us run behind. Now come here.” She patted the seat of the couch next to her. Her voice carried such authority that he instantly felt a pang of guilt. He obeyed, sitting down. His tiny form sank into the cushion, emphasizing how small he was compared to her. Gently, she rested a large hand on his thigh, letting him know she wasn’t angry—just strict. Their eyes met, and there was a softness beneath her stern facade. “I have to go to the office for some time, but I’ll be back before dinner,” she said. “In the meantime, you’ll stay here. I’ve laid out clothes for you in the bedroom. You’re not to leave the apartment until I get back. Is that clear?” Leon nodded. “Yes, Meredith.” He could feel an odd mix of relief and apprehension. She was going out, but his instructions were so rigid. It felt a little lonely, spending hours in the apartment by himself with such restrictions—especially since he needed permission for almost everything. “Also…” She paused, studying his face. “Have you gone potty yet this morning?” Leon’s cheeks flushed. That question was always mortifying, though he had grown somewhat used to it. Meredith demanded to know about every trip to the bathroom. “Yes,” he mumbled, “right when I woke up.” “Good.” She turned back to her phone, tapping at some notifications. “Remember: no more breaks until lunchtime. If you have to go, wait for me to come home. I don’t want to find out you disobeyed me.” Her instructions were specific and strict. He’d been told only to use the bathroom at set times, always with her permission. Yesterday, he nearly had an accident holding it until she got back from a grocery run. As embarrassing as it felt to beg for the toilet, it was even more humiliating to lose control. But Meredith liked it that way—and, if he was honest, a small part of him thrilled at the notion of surrender. “All right,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper. Meredith patted his thigh one last time before she stood up, towering over him. She bent slightly, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Be good. Don’t get into trouble.” Leon felt goosebumps on his arms. “I promise I’ll be good.” She flashed him a knowing grin, then picked up her handbag and left, locking the door behind her with a decisive click. Leon stared at the door for several moments. The apartment, though cozy, suddenly felt huge without her presence. His instructions were clear: get dressed in the clothes she chose, don’t leave the apartment, and most importantly—no bathroom breaks until lunch, when she planned to return. He exhaled. This was his life now. Part of him wanted to rebel, to say that enough was enough. But part of him loved her so much that he convinced himself he needed this, needed her. And so, with a subdued swirl of excitement and anxiety, Leon walked to the bedroom to see what she had laid out for him. Chapter Two: A Childish Wardrobe When Leon opened the bedroom door, his cheeks immediately reddened. Spread across the bed was an outfit he would have never chosen for himself: a pair of powder-blue shortalls, complete with little silver snaps running down the sides, and a plain white t-shirt to go underneath. Next to it lay ankle socks with tiny cartoon puppies stitched into the cuffs. At the foot of the bed sat bright white Velcro sneakers—another childlike touch. He inhaled a shaky breath. This was far from the most juvenile outfit Meredith had ever selected, but it still made him feel about ten years old rather than eighteen. Even if he wanted to choose something else, he knew he was not allowed. From the first week he moved in, Meredith had insisted on taking over all dressing responsibilities, often physically clothing him herself. This morning, however, she’d made an exception by laying out the outfit in advance—probably because she was in a hurry. Leon glanced at the time on his phone: 8:42 AM. He had a while before lunch, and already he could feel an uncomfortable tightness in his bladder. He’d used the bathroom upon waking up, but the morning coffee he’d had earlier was catching up to him. He swallowed hard. Meredith had said no more potty visits until she came back at noon. He tried to ignore the discomfort, telling himself she’d only be gone a few hours. With a resigned sigh, he plucked the T-shirt off the bed. He peeled off his pajama top, then slipped the T-shirt on. Finally, he lifted the shortalls and stepped into them, struggling to pull the straps over his shoulders until he heard the tiny snaps click. They fit snugly, cupping his narrow hips and accentuating how slender he was. The Velcro shoes went on last. He looked at himself in the standing mirror and cringed. The shortalls ended high on his thighs, making him look about as intimidating as a toddler. He could feel his heart pounding as he went back into the living room, half-expecting someone to be standing there laughing at him. But of course, the apartment was empty. He sank down on the sofa, turning on the TV. Maybe he could distract himself with some cartoons or a movie. He was too nervous to watch the news or a serious program. Subconsciously, he gravitated toward more childish things—something that matched how Meredith dressed him. He flicked through streaming channels until he found an old animated movie from his childhood. While it played, his mind kept drifting to the subtle pressure below his abdomen. It had been only a few weeks of abiding by her “no bathroom without permission” rule, but it was long enough that his body felt confused, uncertain when relief was actually allowed. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. The anxiety made him want to push the feeling away, yet focusing on it seemed inevitable. Time ticked by painfully slowly: 9:00… 9:15… 9:30… By 10:00, Leon was shifting in his seat, crossing his legs, and trying to stay calm. He was determined not to break the rules—he never wanted to face Meredith’s anger or disappointment. But if she didn’t come home in time… He shook his head. She said noon. You can hold it until noon, he told himself. He’d done it before. He’d do it again. Memories of the last time he disobeyed raced through his mind. About a week ago, she’d caught him sneaking off to the bathroom while she was out. He was wearing a childish onesie she had chosen, and the second she returned, he’d practically run past her toward the toilet. She noticed the onesie was unbuttoned. He’d undone it on his own. She was upset, not screaming or raging, but cold and disappointed. That, to him, was worse than any punishment. So he’d do what she wanted: hold it. By 11:15, he was practically shaking. He paced around the living room, turning the TV off because he couldn’t focus. The pressure was building painfully, and he wasn’t sure how long he could last. Finally, at 11:45, he heard the jangle of keys outside the door. Meredith stepped in, the faint smell of crisp autumn air swirling around her. She closed the door, set her purse down, and immediately looked at him with curiosity. “Hello, sweetie. How was your morning?” Leon let out a trembling breath. “It’s been okay. I… I’m glad you’re home.” She slipped off her jacket, revealing a form-fitting blouse and a knee-length skirt. She looked immaculate, her tall silhouette making him feel ridiculously small. “Did you follow the rules?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. Leon nodded vigorously. “Yes. I haven’t gone to the bathroom since you left, and—Meredith, please, can I—?” She shrugged, setting her handbag on the counter. “Let me think about it.” A slow, playful grin slid across her face. Leon felt heat rise to his cheeks. He crossed his legs again, pressing them together. “Please,” he repeated, bouncing slightly in place. “Come with me to the bathroom,” she said quietly. He exhaled in relief and trailed behind her. The moment they reached the bathroom door, she turned around, blocking his entrance with an arm. “You waited, right?” “Yes,” he rasped. “Good boy.” She unfastened the shortall straps and helped him wriggle out of the garment, leaving him standing there in just his T-shirt, socks, and shoes. “All right, you may go.” She gave him a light nudge inside, standing in the doorway as if monitoring him. Usually, she supervised his toilet visits to make sure he wasn’t disobeying any hidden rules. He quickly tried to focus, lifting the seat and finally letting go. Relief flooded him, but his cheeks were bright red knowing she was right there, watching. Yet this was their arrangement—something he had grown used to, in his own shy way. When he finished, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper of relief. Meredith smiled, nodding with approval. “You did well. I see no accidents,” she remarked, scanning the front of his T-shirt. Leon’s heart still pounded with the aftershock of nearly losing control. “No,” he managed to say. “No accidents.” “Good,” she repeated, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m proud of you for holding it in.” His insides fluttered at the praise. He always craved her approval. Despite the embarrassment, the rules, the slight fear, there was a warm satisfaction that came from pleasing her. “Come on,” she said, leading him out of the bathroom. “Time for lunch. Then we’ll talk about the rest of the day.” Chapter Three: The Strict Afternoon After lunch—sandwiches she prepared while he stood on a stool at the counter, helping slice tomatoes—Meredith announced she’d be working from home the remainder of the day. She had a stack of documents to handle. Leon hovered in the kitchen, uncertain what she expected of him next. She noticed his anxious glance and beckoned him closer. “It’s going to be a long work session. I need to focus,” she said. “I’ll be in the study. You can watch TV or do something quiet in the living room. But no phone calls and no computer games without permission.” Leon nodded, fiddling with the hem of his shortalls. “Okay,” he murmured. “Do I have to do anything… else?” She tilted her head. “You mean chores?” He shrugged. “Chores, or errands, or something.” “I think you can handle cleaning your room,” she said. “I’ll inspect it later. And you are to ask me if you need to use the potty, understood?” He swallowed. “Yes, Meredith.” “All right. Off you go. And remember, I’ll be checking on you.” With that, she swept away into the study, closing the door behind her. Leon glanced at the clock: 12:40 PM. The next scheduled bathroom break was usually around mid-afternoon—unless he asked for special permission, which she sometimes granted, sometimes didn’t. He made his way to the bedroom to tidy up the bedclothes. After that, he dusted and vacuumed a little, determined to impress her by staying productive. As the minutes passed, he periodically glanced at the closed study door, tempted to peek his head in and see if she wanted coffee or something. But he dreaded disturbing her. She hated interruptions when she was concentrating. Eventually, Leon returned to the living room and flopped onto the couch. The cartoon from earlier was still paused. He pressed play, letting the colorful images fill the screen. But he found it hard to relax. There was a growing sense of tension, deep down in his bladder again. Maybe that second glass of water at lunch was a bad idea. He tried to focus on the cartoon’s cheerful scenes—singing characters, bright backdrops, comedic moments. Time crawled: 1:00… 1:15… 1:30… By 2:00, the pressure was noticeable. Leon bit his lip, glancing at the study door again. Should he ask? Meredith might see it as a sign of weakness or defiance if he kept interrupting her schedule. But the alternative was risking an accident. He rummaged through the coffee table’s drawers to distract himself, coming across old board games and puzzle books. He found a half-completed crossword puzzle from weeks ago, the squares filled in by Meredith’s neat penmanship. He sighed, trying to pass the time, but the throbbing need in his abdomen kept gnawing at his thoughts. Finally, at 2:15, he couldn’t take it anymore. He padded softly over to the study door, raising his fist to knock. He hesitated, heart pounding. She was probably on a call. But if he waited any longer, something worse could happen. Summoning courage, he gave a gentle knock. “Who is it?” came her curt voice. “It’s me,” Leon answered timidly. “I… um… I need to ask you something.” “Come in.” He eased the door open. Meredith sat behind a large wooden desk, papers scattered around a laptop. She looked up, removing her glasses. “Yes?” “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said in a low whisper, “but I really need to use the restroom.” Her lips formed a thin line. “Is it that urgent?” Leon shifted on his feet, nodding. “Kind of. I’ve been trying to hold it for a while.” Meredith let out a slow exhale, then glanced at the clock on her computer. “We were going to do that at three o’clock. But you are asking nicely…” He clasped his hands in front of him, trying to stand as still as possible. “Please, Meredith?” She pondered for a moment. “All right. But I’m going to watch, to make sure everything’s done properly. And no fussing.” His eyes widened, but he quickly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Standing up from her chair, she followed him to the bathroom. This time, she didn’t bother to unfasten his shortalls. Instead, she did it for him, as always—though with an air of slight annoyance. “Arms up,” she said, guiding the straps down. Leon turned away from her, aiming to close the door, but she stepped inside too. She always came in with him, but this time the closeness felt more imposing. “Hurry up,” she commanded. Leon’s face was practically on fire with embarrassment, but the need to relieve himself overcame his self-consciousness. He managed to get everything positioned and released. A soft gasp of relief escaped his lips. Meredith observed him carefully. When he was done, she helped him secure his shortalls back into place, snapping the straps. Then she turned on the sink faucet and waited while he washed his hands under her watchful gaze. “I won’t always let you do this,” she said softly. “I have rules for a reason. It’s important you learn how to follow them.” Leon nodded, shoulders slumping. He felt like a child receiving a reprimand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just really couldn’t wait.” She gently ruffled his hair. “Shh. It’s all right. Let’s get you back to your day.” And just like that, she returned to her study, leaving him alone in the hallway with the odd, lingering mix of relief and lingering shame. Chapter Four: Footed Sleeper Evenings Late afternoon arrived without further incident. Leon busied himself around the apartment, occasionally hearing Meredith’s voice from the study. She sounded professional and confident, reminding him of just how impressive she was in her career—and, in turn, how small he felt next to her in every regard. By the time 6:30 PM rolled around, Meredith emerged from the study, stretching her arms overhead. Her sharp gaze swept over the living room and kitchen. “Looks clean,” she commented, nodding at Leon. “Good job.” He felt a small glow of pride at her words. “Thanks,” he said. “Did you finish everything?” “Mostly,” she replied with a sigh. “I still have a bit more to do after dinner. How about you start setting the table while I check something in the bedroom?” Leon hopped up to obey, walking to the kitchen cabinets to gather plates and cutlery. He arranged them neatly, making sure everything was symmetrical—knowing she appreciated order. He placed two glasses and a set of napkins in perfect alignment, then set out the salt and pepper. Satisfied, he stepped back to admire his work. He glanced toward the bedroom, wondering what Meredith was up to. She was probably laying out his pajamas. That’s how every evening went: after dinner, she would dress him in some form of childlike sleepwear—often footed sleepers, sometimes with childish prints. If he was especially fidgety or whiny, she’d zip it in the back, removing his ability to unzip it himself. Some nights, she put on mittens, ensuring he couldn’t fiddle with the zipper. Part of him squirmed at the thought, but another part thrummed with excitement. Despite the occasional embarrassment, he found a peculiar comfort in the ritual of being tucked into bed by her. He relished the warmth of her presence, the bubble of security she created around him. She emerged a few minutes later, a sly smile on her face. “Dinner time,” she announced. “Let’s eat.” Dinner consisted of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a small portion of rice. Leon ate quietly, occasionally meeting Meredith’s eyes. She asked him about his day, praising him for keeping busy without fussing too much. He felt an uptick of pride at her approval. However, halfway through the meal, she cleared her throat. “I noticed something when I laid out your sleeper,” she began, fixing him with a steady look. “Some of your underwear had faint stains. Care to explain?” Leon nearly choked on his chicken. He stared at her, face burning. “I… I—It’s just… from earlier,” he stammered. “I was holding it for so long, I guess maybe I leaked a little?” She narrowed her eyes. “So you had a little accident?” He stared at his plate, nodding miserably. “Y-yes, but just a tiny bit, I swear.” Meredith set her fork down. “Hmm. That’s unfortunate. After all the trust I gave you to wait until lunch, then again this afternoon. You said you managed, but apparently, you leaked enough to stain your underwear.” Leon gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. It wasn’t a full accident. Just a little leak.” “Regardless,” she said, her voice cool, “it shows you’re not fully in control.” His eyes pricked with tears. “Please don’t be mad.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not angry, Leon. But I’m disappointed that you’re struggling with such a simple rule. If waiting is causing you accidents, perhaps we need a more secure solution.” Her words sent a chill through him. “Wh-what do you mean?” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Let’s finish dinner, and we’ll discuss it when we get you ready for bed.” Leon nodded, his appetite diminishing. He forced the rest of his vegetables down in silence, mind spinning with worry and humiliation. He had a feeling he knew what she meant by a ‘more secure solution.’ Chapter Five: An Unexpected Development After dinner, Meredith tasked Leon with loading the dishwasher. He did so mechanically, hands slightly shaking. He couldn’t stop thinking about her cryptic mention of a “secure solution.” Could she mean what he thought she did? She disappeared back into the bedroom. By the time he finished in the kitchen, she called his name. “Leon,” she said, standing in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed. “Come here.” He approached hesitantly, heart hammering. She guided him inside, where the lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow across the bed. Laid out on the duvet was a footed sleeper, a soft pastel-green color with a subtle pattern of tiny stars. Its zipper ran up the front, but a small padlock mechanism was threaded through the zipper pull. Next to it on the bed was a folded, puffy item. Leon’s stomach dropped. It was a diaper—a large, adult-sized diaper with cartoonish designs across the padding. He stared, speechless. His mind reeled. Sure, Meredith had teased about diapers before, mostly in a half-joking manner when he slipped up or whined too much. But he never thought she’d actually follow through. They were both adults, after all. Even if she treated him as if he were younger, diapers still felt like an extreme step. “I… I…” he started, but no words came out. Meredith cocked her head, her tall frame radiating authority. “These are for nights when you can’t maintain control,” she said calmly. “You’ve proven that you sometimes have accidents while trying to follow the rules. I don’t want you ruining your underwear or the sheets.” Leon’s face burned. “B-but… I—” She held up a hand. “Shh. We’re trying this tonight. Hopefully, it will teach you to be more mindful of your potty breaks when they’re scheduled. If you truly have no accidents, maybe we won’t need these. But for now…” She motioned to the diaper. “Take off your clothes.” He hesitated, a thick lump in his throat, but he knew better than to argue. He undid the shortalls and let them pool at his feet, then peeled off the T-shirt. Meredith patted the bed. “Lie down,” she instructed. Trying not to cry from humiliation, Leon sank onto the mattress, his small frame dwarfed by the plush bed. Meredith picked up the diaper, opening it with a loud crinkle. She maneuvered it under him, adjusting it carefully, then folded it up between his legs. The padding was thick, soft, and unmistakably babyish. Velcro tapes fastened at the sides. She smoothed the tapes, making sure it was snug around his waist. Leon swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. The sensation of the diaper hugging his lower half was strange and overwhelming. The thick bulk between his legs forced them apart slightly. Meredith leaned over him, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. “Don’t be upset,” she cooed. “It’s just for your protection, and for my peace of mind. You might even find it comforting.” He shut his eyes, nodding wordlessly. Next, she guided his feet into the footed sleeper, pulling it up his body. Once his arms were inside, she zipped it up, locking the zipper with a small padlock near the neck. There would be no unzipping this without her key. Leon shivered, suddenly aware he was completely at her mercy. He could feel the diaper pressing against him, a constant reminder of his humiliation. Yet a small, secret part of him felt a twinge of guilty relief. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about leaking if he had to hold it too long… Meredith helped him off the bed, turning him to face the dresser mirror. “Look at that,” she said softly. “It fits you well, doesn’t it?” He caught a glimpse of himself: a short, slender young man clad in a pastel sleeper, locked, and obviously padded. It was juvenile, babyish, and undeniably humiliating. And yet, he felt a warmth coil in his chest, an odd sense of safety. Meredith leaned down, placing a lingering kiss on top of his head. “All set. Now, it’s still early, so you can stay up with me in the living room if you want to watch TV. But I don’t want you messing with that diaper. Understood?” Leon gulped. “Yes, Meredith,” he whispered. With that, she took his hand, leading him out to the living room, where they sat on the couch together. She switched on a TV show, sliding an arm around his shoulders. He rested his cheek against her side, feeling the crinkle of the diaper whenever he shifted. Her warmth enveloped him. Embarrassed as he was, he couldn’t deny the closeness and the comfort he felt pressed against her. They watched quietly for a while, the only sounds being occasional dialogue from the show and the subtle rustle of Leon’s diaper when he moved. Though she was being strict, Meredith also exuded a gentle tenderness. She smoothed her hand over his hair, letting him relax against her. He wondered if this was how children felt when nestled against a mother’s side—but no, that thought was too strange. He was an adult, even if everything about this arrangement suggested otherwise. After an hour or so, she clicked off the TV. “You’re probably tired. Let’s get you in bed.” Leon’s eyes fluttered. “Okay.” She led him back to the bedroom, helping him climb under the covers. The diaper’s thickness made him waddle slightly, but she made no mention of it. Once he was tucked in, she leaned down to give him a soft kiss goodnight. “Sleep well, little one,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. Leon felt a pang in his chest. Despite the embarrassment, he sensed an overpowering love for her. She had so much control, but also so much care. He closed his eyes, nodding. “Goodnight, Meredith,” he whispered. She switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The faint sound of her footsteps retreated, and the door clicked shut, leaving him alone with the soft rustle of his own humiliating bedtime attire. Yet despite everything, he drifted off feeling oddly comforted. Chapter Six: A Morning of Conflicting Emotions Leon awoke the next morning, squinting at the streams of daylight creeping in through the blinds. He tried to stretch, but the footed sleeper resisted his movement. The padlock at the collar was still firmly in place. Immediately, he became aware of the thick diaper around his waist. His heart pounded as he recalled last night’s humiliating bedtime routine. He shifted, feeling a slight warmth in the diaper’s padding. Dread stabbed at his chest. Had he wet himself in his sleep? He pressed his thighs together, and sure enough, the diaper felt heavier and damp. A wave of shame washed over him. He couldn’t remember when it happened. He had dozed off so deeply he never even woke up to use the bathroom. A swirl of conflicting emotions rose inside him: embarrassment, confusion, and, strangely, relief. At least the bed was dry. He heard footsteps approaching. In a moment, Meredith appeared, her tall frame filling the doorway. She smiled softly. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Sleep well?” Leon stammered, unsure how to respond. “I—I guess so.” Her gaze fell to his padded midsection. “Did you stay dry?” she asked, though the faint smirk suggested she already suspected the answer. He glanced away, cheeks aflame. “No,” he muttered. “I… had an accident.” Meredith strode over, unlocking the small padlock at his neckline with a tiny key. She slowly pulled the zipper down, revealing the sagging diaper. She pressed the padding gently, confirming it was indeed wet. Leon squirmed, face contorting with humiliation. “Well,” she said at last, “this just proves my point. You need diapers for bedtime until further notice.” Leon’s eyes stung with tears. He hated feeling so incompetent, but found himself nodding obediently. “Yes, Meredith.” “Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said. She helped him out of the sleeper, rolling it aside to wash later. Then, carefully, she removed the diaper. The cool morning air brushed his skin. She took a pack of wipes from a shelf in the closet—he hadn’t noticed them before—and began gently cleaning him. He winced at the profound vulnerability of it all, but she was methodical and calm, as though caring for a dependent child. When she finished, she gave his hip a reassuring pat. “Now, go shower. I’ll find you some fresh clothes.” Leon didn’t need any more prompting. He hurried to the bathroom, stepping into the warm shower spray. As he scrubbed away the night’s shame, he let out a trembling sigh. Part of him felt humiliated beyond words, but another part felt a surprising sense of freedom in not having to worry about whether he wet the bed or not—Meredith took care of everything. Chapter Seven: Trying to Please Her After the shower, Leon found another childish outfit waiting on the bed: a bright red T-shirt with a cartoon lion on the front, and a pair of elastic-waist shorts that threatened to show the outline of any padded undergarment if he wore them. However, Meredith had not placed a diaper beside them this time. It seemed he was expected to manage on his own during the day—at least for now. He dressed quickly, then padded into the living room where Meredith was sipping coffee. She motioned for him to sit. “I’m going into the office again,” she announced. “I have some errands afterward, so I won’t be back until early evening. Think you can handle it?” Leon nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Her eyes flickered toward his shorts. “No diapers right now, but you’re still required to ask permission for the potty, remember?” A knot formed in his stomach. “B-but… you won’t be here,” he said. “How am I supposed to ask for permission?” “You’ll text me first,” Meredith said, as if it were the most obvious solution. “Wait for my response. If I approve, you can use the bathroom. Understood?” Leon swallowed hard. “Yes.” She arched an eyebrow. “I mean it. If I find out you disobeyed, or if there’s any sign of accidents again, you’ll be wearing a diaper all day tomorrow as well. Clear?” A flush crept over his face. “Clear,” he replied softly. Meredith nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, I have to go. You have your instructions.” She kissed his forehead, grabbed her handbag, and left. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Leon alone with his swirling thoughts once more. It was nearly 9 AM. He had to figure out how to keep himself occupied all day without leaving the apartment, and with the added stress of obtaining permission to use the bathroom via text message. He eyed the clock nervously. Typically, she gave him scheduled breaks: morning, midday, afternoon, evening. But now the dynamic was different—he had to ask every single time. Leon sighed, trying to calm the flutter in his belly. “I can do this,” he whispered to himself, rummaging around the kitchen for a small breakfast. He settled on cereal, though he couldn’t help but measure how much milk and juice he poured, terrified of needing to go too soon. Chapter Eight: Accidents, Consequences, and Confessions By lunchtime, Leon’s nerves were already shot. He’d texted Meredith around 11, asking if he could go to the bathroom. She replied after ten agonizing minutes of waiting, finally granting permission. He managed to avoid an accident that time. But around 1 PM, as he sat quietly in the living room reading a book, he felt another urge. He checked the time. Meredith had mentioned she’d be in an important meeting from 1 to 2 PM, so he hesitated. If she was in the meeting, she might not respond to texts promptly. Should he send her a message anyway and risk bothering her? Or should he hold it, hoping she’d be free soon? Eventually, he sent her a short text: “Hi, Meredith. May I please use the bathroom?” The minutes passed. No response. The minutes turned to a half-hour. Leon began to pace, sipping his water nervously, which only made things worse. By 1:40, he was practically dancing in place, pressing his thighs together. Still nothing. He sent another, more urgent text: “Please, Meredith. It’s an emergency.” At 1:50, he still hadn’t heard from her. His bladder burned, and tears pricked his eyes. He wanted desperately to follow her rule, but he was about to burst. Could he risk it? Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he used the bathroom since it was an actual emergency. But she had been so explicit. Disobeying meant guaranteed diapers the next day. Could he endure that shame again? He fidgeted, leaning against the wall, clenching every muscle he could. The world around him seemed to blur in a haze of desperation. 1:55… Leon couldn’t hold it. With a choked sob, he felt warmth flood his shorts. The liquid trickled down his legs, pooling on the floor. He froze, horrified. His cheeks burned with shame as he stood there in a puddle. He’d truly wet himself in the living room, at eighteen years old. Trembling, he grabbed paper towels, trying to mop up the evidence of his accident. He peeled off his sodden shorts and underwear, tossing them into the washing machine, desperately hoping to hide the mess before Meredith returned. But he couldn’t deny what had happened. He had broken the rule—except he hadn’t, had he? He’d tried to get permission, but she never responded. At 2:05, his phone buzzed. Meredith’s text appeared: “Yes, you can go now. Sorry for the delay.” Leon nearly burst into tears. It was too late. Chapter Nine: Love and Control Meredith arrived home around 5 PM. Leon was perched anxiously on the couch in a fresh pair of shorts, heart hammering. The moment she entered, he felt tears pricking his eyes. He needed to confess before she discovered the evidence. She set her purse down and fixed him with an expectant stare. “Well, did everything go smoothly?” Leon stood, hands shaking. “I—I tried. I texted you. Twice,” he said. “You didn’t respond until it was too late.” His voice trembled with shame. “I had an accident.” She pressed her lips together. “Where?” “In the living room,” he muttered, glancing down. “I cleaned it up right away. I’m sorry.” Meredith rubbed her temple. “Leon,” she began in a weary tone, “I gave you one simple rule. Did you try waiting or…?” He shook his head. “I did wait. I tried to hold it until you responded. But then I—I couldn’t anymore.” She sighed, stepping closer to him. He braced himself for anger, but instead, she pulled him into a loose embrace. He smelled the faint perfume in her hair. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Accidents happen when you’re forced to wait like that.” Leon buried his face against her, tears wetting her blouse. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry.” Meredith patted his back. “I know you tried. This arrangement might be too strict for your body to handle. Maybe I pushed you too far.” He blinked, pulling back, confused. “You… you think so?” She nodded, cupping his cheek. “Leon, I want to take care of you. I love you. But if these rules cause you distress and accidents, maybe we need to adjust them.” Leon stared up at her, feeling both relief and a pang of disappointment. As restrictive as the rules were, a part of him craved her control. “I… I don’t want to disappoint you,” he whispered. She kissed his forehead. “My sweet boy, you could never truly disappoint me if you’re honest with me. Let’s find a way that keeps you comfortable without accidents, all right?” He nodded, eyes stinging. “Yes, Meredith.” She smoothed down his hair. “That said, the diapers at night will continue. It’s clear you’re still having trouble staying dry. And maybe we’ll have you wear them during the day if you’re feeling uncertain. No more holding it to the point of accidents. Agreed?” A complicated mix of dread and comfort flooded him. “Agreed,” he said softly. That evening, after a light dinner and some shared relaxation time on the couch, Meredith once more led him to the bedroom. She had prepared another diaper and the familiar pastel-green sleeper, complete with the back-zip design. This time, he didn’t resist. He let her tape the diaper around his waist, welcoming the soft, bulky security. He noticed that she had sewn a small loop at the back of the sleeper’s collar, likely where she’d attach the padlock or a similar clasp. She pulled it up his body, sealing him in. Leon sighed as she locked him into the sleeper. Oddly enough, he felt relief. There would be no more frantic dashes or accidents; if it happened, at least he was protected. He laid down on the bed, exhaling the tension of the day. “Tomorrow, we can talk more about your potty schedule,” Meredith said, brushing a hand through his hair. “I still want you to ask permission, but we’ll give you a diaper if I’m away. That way, you won’t have to worry.” Leon looked up at her, a small smile ghosting his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. She returned the smile, bending low to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. “I love you, little one.” Tears threatened to surface again, but they were tears of gratitude this time. “I love you too,” he choked out. Settling down under the covers, he listened to the calming sound of her breathing as she tucked him in. Despite the infantile attire, or perhaps because of it, a sense of safety blossomed in his chest. Meredith was demanding, controlling, and sometimes completely over the top—but she was also caring, nurturing, and, above all, his. Chapter Ten: Renewed Determination Despite the tension and embarrassment of Leon’s accident in Chapter Nine, the next morning dawned with a surprising sense of calm in the apartment. The living room was bathed in golden light as Leon padded out from the bedroom, diaper rustling softly beneath the pastel-green footed sleeper. He still wore the back-zip pajamas because Meredith—early to rise and already dressed in slacks and a blouse—wanted to supervise his morning routine. “Good morning,” she greeted, looking up from her laptop on the couch. “Sleep okay?” Leon nodded, cheeks flushing with the familiar bashfulness that came from being locked into his sleeper all night. “Yes,” he murmured, eyes drifting to the floor. “Thank you.” Meredith patted the cushion beside her, beckoning him to sit. The couch dipped under her weight as she scooted closer, one arm resting comfortably over his shoulders. “Let’s see how you did,” she said, reaching for the small lock at his collar. Her tone was neither cruel nor mocking—it was simply matter-of-fact, the caring severity of someone who expected to find a wet diaper. She withdrew the key from her pocket and unlocked the tab securing the zipper. The faint click sent a tremor of apprehension through Leon. Gently, she pulled the zipper down, revealing the thick, slightly damp diaper around his waist. A sigh escaped her lips—part relief, part acknowledgment. “Not too bad,” she said. “Still wet, but not soaked.” Leon rubbed his arms, noticing goosebumps from the morning chill. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically. She shook her head. “There’s no need to apologize every time. We’ve talked about this. Diapers are here to help until you learn to manage. And if you can’t, well… that’s okay too. We’ll make sure you’re protected.” A swirl of conflicting emotion swept through him. He both hated and secretly welcomed the security of her strict care. Even if it made him feel smaller, something about her unwavering control comforted him. “All right,” Meredith said, gently pressing her warm palm against his upper back. “Let’s get you changed and dressed. We have errands today.” Leon exhaled a soft sigh of resignation. There was never any real choice in the matter—only the understanding that, under her guidance, he would be taken care of. She walked him to the bedroom, where a fresh diaper and a modest outfit lay waiting on the neatly made bed. This time, he noticed the diapers were in the open, lined up on a shelf—obviously a new normal. “You’ll wear this for the day,” she said, tapping the folded padding. “I have a busy schedule, and I can’t always answer your texts immediately. So, no accidents in your shorts this time.” Leon’s face burned with a mixture of shame and relief. “Yes, Meredith,” he murmured obediently. She set about changing him, wiping him down before securing the tapes snug around his hips. With practiced ease, she helped him step into a pair of casual khaki shorts and a short-sleeve polo that—thankfully—didn’t look too childish. However, as soon as he stood up, the outline of the diaper was unmistakable beneath the fabric, giving him a slight waddle. He fidgeted, unsure how to hide it. Meredith tilted his chin up with her finger. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “You’re under my protection. I won’t let anyone see more than necessary. Now, get your shoes on. We’re heading out soon.” Leon swallowed hard, nodding. A renewed determination to trust her—and to obey her strict potty rules—settled in his chest. If wearing a diaper in public was the price to avoid accidents, he would accept it. After all, he loved her. And in his own private way, he loved this nurturing dominance she provided. Chapter Eleven: An Outing of Discomfort Meredith parked the car outside a bustling shopping center, sunlight glinting off the polished vehicles in the lot. Leon sat in the passenger seat, heart thumping. He hadn’t been outside in a diaper often—usually, Meredith arranged short, discreet errands or handled them alone. Yet here they were, preparing for a full afternoon of shopping. He was diapered under his khaki shorts, his every movement producing a barely audible crinkle. Fear gnawed at him. What if someone heard? What if someone noticed the slight bulge? Meredith unfastened her seatbelt, turning toward him. “Ready?” Leon’s fingers twisted in his lap. “I—yes,” he said, voice trembling. “But—do I really have to wear this in public?” A trace of amusement danced across Meredith’s features, but she tempered it with understanding. “Yes, Leon. You know the rules. You’ve had accidents, and I can’t keep leaving you alone in the apartment every time I need to run errands. This is safer.” His cheeks burned a deep crimson. “I—I understand,” he managed. She offered a small, reassuring smile before exiting the car. Reluctantly, Leon followed, stepping onto the asphalt. The sensation of the diaper’s padding made his walk slightly bow-legged. He glanced around nervously, certain everyone would see. But the world carried on, no one giving him more than a passing glance. It was a busy weekend afternoon: couples strolling hand in hand, parents corralling rambunctious kids, elderly folks lugging grocery bags. No one seemed to notice the shy, diminutive eighteen-year-old waddling after his tall girlfriend. Meredith led him through a few stores, picking up home essentials and groceries. She maintained a calm composure, instructing him softly if she wanted help grabbing an item. Occasionally, she’d slip her arm around his shoulders, guiding him through the crowd. Despite the unwavering sense of embarrassment, Leon felt a protective warmth emanating from her touch. Midway through their errands, as they stopped at a store to browse kitchen utensils, Leon’s eyes widened. The dull pressure in his bladder reminded him of an awkward truth: if he needed to use the bathroom, he had to ask Meredith. And given their conversation, he suspected she might make him use the diaper instead—especially in a public restroom scenario where it might be less private. Swallowing hard, he tugged lightly at her sleeve. “Meredith?” he whispered. She was examining a set of ceramic bowls but turned at his soft plea. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” “I… I have to go,” he admitted, cheeks blazing. “Number one.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Hmm. Well, we could go to the bathroom. But then I’d have to help you remove everything.” Her tone was sympathetic yet firm. “It might be easier if you just let your diaper handle it. That’s what it’s for.” Leon felt a knot twist in his stomach. Wet himself on purpose, in a public store? The thought horrified him. But she was right—unfastening and refastening a taped diaper in a public restroom stall seemed equally daunting. “Let’s finish shopping,” she said in a low voice. “If it’s urgent, use your diaper. Then I’ll change you when we get home.” Leon’s entire face felt aflame. But he couldn’t argue; she was in charge. He stayed close to her side, trying to will his bladder to remain calm. Yet within minutes, the urge intensified. Eventually, he yielded, letting go in subtle spurts, feeling warmth spread through the padding. His heart thumped—he was wetting himself in the middle of a store, next to his girlfriend. It was humiliating and strangely intimate. By the time they checked out and returned to the car, the diaper clung heavily to his skin. Meredith noticed the slight sag, her expression shifting to one of tender concern. “You okay?” she asked, voice gentle. He nodded, too humiliated to speak. As they climbed back into the car, he squirmed against the seat, the wet diaper pressing against him. Meredith placed a comforting hand on his thigh and squeezed. It was a reminder that she was proud of him for following the rules—odd though those rules might be. They drove home in silence, tension coiling in his chest. Yet beneath it all, a flutter of relief swirled: he had obeyed her. He had done what she said, and there was a strange sense of accomplishment in that submission. Maybe he was just relieved to know she’d soon change him, freeing him from the clammy discomfort. Leon stared out the window, cheeks still burning, as he braced himself for the next step: reporting his soggy diaper to Meredith like a dependent child. And, in a bittersweet twist, he realized that he no longer felt quite as anxious about it—because he trusted her. Chapter Twelve: Adjusting and Accepting When they arrived home, Meredith wasted no time ushering Leon to the bedroom. He felt her warm hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, guiding him inside. The memory of his wet diaper burned in his mind, a tangible reminder of how little control he was supposed to have. “Let’s get you changed,” she said, her voice low and calm, almost comforting. Leon perched on the edge of the bed, arms folded uncertainly. Meredith stepped into the closet, retrieving a pack of wipes and another diaper from the growing stash. The plastic packaging crinkled loudly as she pulled one out. He lifted his hips obediently, allowing her to peel down his shorts. A wave of cool air brushed his thighs, intensifying the humiliating awareness of the heavy, sagging diaper around his waist. Her expression remained calm—patient, even—like a caretaker simply doing what had to be done. “You did well,” she murmured as she undid the tapes. “I know it must have been scary.” Leon swallowed, cheeks reddening. “It was,” he admitted softly. “I… I don’t like doing that in public. But… if it’s what you want—” She set the soaked diaper aside, using a gentle wipe to clean him. “It’s not about what I want,” she corrected him, though her tone hinted otherwise. “It’s about what works for us. You’re prone to accidents. I don’t want you stressed or embarrassed about sneaking off to the bathroom. A diaper solves that.” He nodded, though a twinge of confusion fluttered in his stomach. Part of him wondered if he was truly that helpless, or if her controlling nature had simply convinced him so. Yet her nurturing presence soothed away his doubts. Feeling the soft, fresh diaper taped securely around his waist brought a wave of both shame and relief. Once she finished, she handed him a pair of comfortable sweatpants. “Wear these for the rest of the day,” she said, then paused, meeting his gaze. “Leon, if you need to use the bathroom and I’m around, I’ll help you remove everything. But if you’re alone, you should use your diaper, okay? No more accidents on the floor or in your underwear.” A small nod was all he could manage. “Yes, Meredith.” Her eyes seemed to soften. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re doing great. I’m proud of how cooperative you’ve been.” That simple praise flooded him with an inexplicable warmth. He realized how deeply he craved her approval. Every small gesture of reassurance seemed to justify the surrender he felt, the childlike acceptance of her rules. It was disorienting, yet undeniably comforting. The rest of the evening fell into a gentle rhythm. She guided him through a few household tasks—organizing drawers, vacuuming the living room—activities that he performed in his thick, padded undergarment, constantly aware of the faint crinkle with each step. Yet by nightfall, he realized he wasn’t quite as self-conscious as before. He could move freely, even forgetting at times that a diaper was taped around his waist. And so, as bedtime approached, Meredith once again led him through the ritual: a final bathroom check under her supervision, then a fresh night diaper, followed by a whimsical footed sleeper zipped and locked at the back. She tucked him in, pressed a goodnight kiss to his forehead, and switched off the lamp. In the darkness, Leon sighed. This new sense of routine—of wearing diapers day and night—didn’t feel quite as alien as it once had. He wondered if that was a good thing, or if it simply meant he was losing pieces of his adulthood. But his mind didn’t dwell on it long. Exhaustion took him, and he drifted off, lulled by the gentle rustle of his padded underwear and the knowledge that Meredith was proud of him. Chapter Thirteen: Testing Boundaries The days rolled by in a blur of routine: breakfast together, a diaper check, dressing in youthful clothes Meredith chose, occasional errands if she needed something, and always the unwavering rule of requesting permission—or using his diaper—whenever nature called. Leon found himself settling into the pattern with surprising ease. But with familiarity came curiosity—and a streak of rebellion. One afternoon, Meredith stepped out to pick up a package from the building’s reception desk. She instructed Leon to remain in the apartment, as usual. Sinking onto the living room couch, Leon felt the snug pull of his diaper around his hips, reminding him of his constant lack of autonomy. A stray thought nudged at him. What if he tried removing the diaper himself, just to see if he could? Perhaps he’d use the toilet without waiting for her. He was an adult—eighteen, yes, and short, but perfectly capable of managing the simplest bodily functions without a caretaker’s guidance. Right? The idea bloomed into a daring impulse. Meredith wouldn’t be gone long. If he acted quickly, he could strip off the diaper, use the bathroom, and tape it back in place—she might never know, unless she checked the tapes closely. His heart pounded. Could he pull it off? With trembling hands, he stood and slipped into the bedroom, shutting the door. He stared at himself in the dresser mirror—his small frame swaddled in a childlike T-shirt and an unmistakable diaper bulge. Taking a shaky breath, he peeled down his sweatpants to reveal the tapes. He’d never removed them on his own; Meredith always did it for him. Nervous excitement thrummed in his veins. Slowly, he reached for one of the tapes, pulling it free with a soft ripping sound. He paused, listening for footsteps or voices in the hallway. Silence. Emboldened, he undid the second tape. A moment later, the diaper slid to the floor with a dull thud. For the first time in days, he felt the cool air against his bare skin. But just as he turned to head for the bathroom, he heard the distinctive jingle of keys at the front door. Panic shot through him. He scrambled, trying to lift the diaper back into place, fumbling with the tapes. His hands shook so badly that he couldn’t align them properly. “Leon?” Meredith’s voice, suddenly closer than he expected. He froze, a terrible realization sinking in: she had the keys, and the apartment door was already open. He pictured her stepping inside, noticing the bedroom door closed. Any second now, she’d be here. His eyes darted around for a place to hide. His heart hammered. The diaper was half-secured, one tape crooked, the other barely stuck to the front panel. Before he could fully fix it, the bedroom door opened. Meredith stood in the threshold, eyebrows arched. Her gaze swept over him—pants around his ankles, the diaper precariously attached, guilt shining in his eyes. He swallowed, feeling a wave of mortification so intense it made him dizzy. She took a measured step forward, an unreadable expression on her face. “Care to explain?” she asked softly, though her tone carried the weight of disappointment. Leon’s eyes stung with imminent tears. “I—I just…” His voice wavered. “I wanted to use the toilet. By myself.” Silence stretched. Then she shut the door behind her, crossing her arms. The tension in the room was palpable. “You know the rules,” she said quietly. “If you need the toilet and I’m not here, you use your diaper or wait.” He bit his lip, tears blurring his vision. “I—I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to prove I could do it on my own.” Meredith’s gaze softened slightly, though her posture remained firm. “Get on the bed,” she said, nodding toward the mattress. “Lie down.” He obeyed, shuffling awkwardly and sinking onto the comforter. She followed, kneeling beside him, methodically reattaching the diaper’s tapes. Though her movements were gentle, a current of disappointment tinged the air. “I’m not punishing you because you need help,” she explained, voice subdued. “I’m upset because you broke trust. You tried to remove the diaper behind my back instead of talking to me.” Tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just feel so… helpless sometimes.” Meredith’s expression softened further. She cupped his cheek, brushing a tear away with her thumb. “I know it can be hard. But we made an agreement. I need you to respect it.” He nodded miserably. “I will… I promise.” She helped him stand, pulling his sweatpants up over the re-secured diaper. Then, with surprising tenderness, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing him against her tall frame. “You’ll be wearing thicker diapers for a while,” she murmured. “And I’ll check them more often. I have to be sure I can trust you.” Leon’s chest clenched. The idea of bigger, more conspicuous padding made his stomach sink. Yet he deserved it, he supposed, for breaking the rules. “I understand,” he said hoarsely, arms sliding around her waist. She held him quietly for a moment, letting the tension ebb. He felt her lips graze his temple, a soft, reassuring gesture. The conflict between frustration and comfort roiled inside him. Part of him wanted more independence; part of him felt relief that she refused to let him fend for himself. Without further discussion, she led him back to the living room, returning to their daily routine. But now a new tension lingered—an unspoken reminder that she was always in control, and that if he tried to break free, the rules would only tighten. And for reasons that baffled him, a small, conflicted part of Leon found a flicker of solace in that unwavering authority. Chapter Fourteen: Closer Under Stricter Rules The weeks following Leon’s failed act of independence were marked by intensified control. Meredith insisted on thicker diapers, even during short outings. His schedule became more rigid. Now, each morning after breakfast, she’d conduct a “diaper check” to ensure he was properly padded and that he hadn’t tampered with the tapes. Whenever she left him alone, she’d set timeframes for when he could text or call. Sometimes she’d even leave the bedroom door open so she could keep an eye on him from other parts of the apartment. At first, Leon felt smothered—his guilt over lying to her was matched only by the frustration of feeling like a child. Yet something unexpected blossomed in the midst of these stricter measures: an undeniable closeness. Each small act of nurturing drew them nearer in an odd, secret way. When Meredith changed him out of a soggy diaper with gentle reassurance, he felt loved. When she praised him for complying with his schedule, he felt proud. Their bond, once overshadowed by fear and embarrassment, grew into a new kind of intimacy. It happened late one evening, as she was zipping him into a fresh footed sleeper. He lay on the bed, arms folded, face flushed, while she carefully aligned the zipper. Once it was done, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips—a kiss that, for the first time, felt more than protective. There was a hint of passion, an adult warmth. Leon’s heart fluttered. She pulled away slowly. “I love taking care of you,” she whispered, her voice low and husky in the dim bedroom light. “Even if you test my patience sometimes.” Leon swallowed, eyes shining. “I love you,” he breathed, the admission trembling with vulnerability. “I—I really do.” She brushed a hand over his cheek, hooking a finger around the sleeper’s collar to ensure it was snug. “I know,” she replied, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “That’s why this works—because we trust each other, don’t we?” He nodded. “I’m sorry about before… trying to remove the diaper on my own. I won’t do it again.” Meredith’s smile softened. “I believe you,” she said, then locked the tiny clasp at the nape of his neck. The soft clink of metal felt final. “Now, get some rest.” With that, she flicked off the overhead light, leaving only a bedside lamp. He burrowed under the covers while she settled beside him for a moment, stroking his hair as though soothing a restless child. The gentle caress lulled him into a half-doze, each breath in tandem with the quiet hiss of air conditioning. He felt a surge of affection so strong it was almost painful. Yes, her rules could be stifling. Yes, he sometimes hated feeling dependent. But she was also his haven—his protector, who willingly took on this responsibility to keep him safe and stress-free. In that sense, the diapers, the childish clothes, and the locked sleepers were all expressions of her unwavering commitment. Eventually, she stood to leave, switching off the lamp entirely. “Goodnight, little one,” she whispered, her voice floating through the darkness. Leon closed his eyes, sinking into the pillow with a soft rustle of crinkling plastic. “Goodnight,” he managed, comforted by her presence even as she slipped away. And as he drifted into sleep, he wondered if this deepening closeness was worth the cost of his dwindling autonomy. Chapter Fifteen: The Unshakable Bond Morning light found Leon stirring early, roused by a nagging pressure in his bladder. He blinked sleep from his eyes, momentarily forgetting the confines of his locked footed sleeper. As he attempted to swing his legs over the side of the bed, the thick padding between them reminded him precisely of his predicament. For a fleeting second, panic seized him—he needed to go, and there was no easy way out. But then memory returned in a warm rush: Meredith. She would help him. He just had to call out. “Meredith?” he croaked softly, clearing his throat. “Meredith!” A moment later, the bedroom door opened, revealing her tall silhouette, hair in a loose ponytail. She flicked on the lamp, letting a soft glow illuminate her concerned face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Leon swallowed, cheeks warming. “I—uh, need the bathroom. Please.” Her gaze flickered to the locked collar of his sleeper, then down to his diaper. “Let’s see…” she murmured. She retrieved the key from the dresser and came closer. “We’ll get you out. Hold on.” He exhaled shakily as she unlocked the small metal clasp, unzipped him, and peeled open the footed pajamas. The crisp air prickled his skin. Within seconds, he was free—except for the diaper taped tightly around him. “Stand up,” she directed, guiding him gently. He pressed his thighs together, bladder now pleading for release. She plucked at the diaper’s tapes, revealing his bare hips. “All set,” she announced. Without waiting another second, Leon darted to the bathroom. This time, there was no condescending observation or requirement to text for permission—she was right there, consenting to let him go. Relief washed over him, both physically and emotionally. When he finished, Meredith stood by the sink, watching calmly. Wordlessly, she handed him a fresh diaper, indicating he should rejoin her in the bedroom. Leon obeyed, though he felt a flicker of pride. She was letting him do part of it himself—at least carrying the diaper. Back in the bedroom, he lay on the bed, anticipating her usual routine of taping him up. But she surprised him by placing the diaper in his hands. “Try,” she said softly. His eyes widened. “You… you want me to do it?” She nodded, an encouraging smile on her lips. “Yes. Go on, show me.” Nervous but determined, Leon unfolded the diaper. He positioned it under himself, fumbling with the tapes. Twice, the adhesive caught on the wrong spot, creating crooked wings. Meredith watched patiently, offering occasional suggestions: “Bring it up a bit higher in front,” or “Tighten the left tape.” After some clumsy effort, he managed a passable fit. It felt snug—but not quite as neat as when she did it. Still, a wave of satisfaction rippled through him. The partial freedom of dressing himself was exhilarating, even if the result was still a diaper. Meredith patted the front. “Good job,” she praised. “Now, it’s not perfect, but it’ll hold for a while.” He beamed, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The subtle acknowledgment that he could do something as basic as tape on his own diaper, under her supervision, felt like an important step. It was a small slice of autonomy within the realm of her control. “We’ll see how you manage,” she continued, smoothing down his hair. “If you do well, maybe I’ll let you take more responsibility for your changes—under my guidance, of course.” Leon nodded, heart fluttering. “Thank you,” he whispered earnestly. In that moment, a new understanding passed between them. Their bond was unshakable now, grounded not just in her dominance but in a shared willingness to adapt. She’d grown stricter after he broke her trust, but she also recognized his desire for a smidge of independence. They didn’t need to be locked in an endless cycle of parent and child. They were lovers, partners—albeit in a very unconventional arrangement. And so, as Meredith helped him into a pair of soft lounge pants, the corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. “Let’s go have breakfast,” she said, lacing her fingers through his and giving him a tender squeeze. Leon squeezed back, feeling the padded bulk beneath his pants but no longer drowning in shame. Yes, it was still embarrassing, and he still had rules and limitations, but he was beginning to realize that, at the core of it all, they truly cared for each other. Their relationship wasn’t defined by his size or her control, but by the intimacy and trust they cultivated day by day. He followed her out to the kitchen, diaper rustling in time with his step. Love blossomed in his chest, soft and certain. They were forging a balance—one where she guided him with structure, and he offered devotion and openness in return. For the first time since this odd journey began, Leon felt confident that despite the diapers, the childish clothes, and the potty rules, he and Meredith were heading toward something healthy and lasting: a bond that neither of them ever wanted to break. Epilogue A few months later, their small apartment felt more like a sanctuary than ever. The bedroom closet now housed a full set of neatly stacked diapers and childish outfits. A special drawer even contained footed sleepers with various colors and prints. Leon sometimes giggled at just how large their “babyish” collection had grown—and how routine it had become to wear them. But if anyone asked how they lived, they would never fully understand the tapestry of love and control woven into their day-to-day. Leon was still small for his age, and Meredith still stood a majestic six foot one—always a striking figure next to him. Yet their dynamic had evolved into a fluid dance between caretaker and lover, discipline and compassion. Most mornings, Leon took pride in taping on his own diaper under Meredith’s watchful eye, a sign of trust regained after his earlier missteps. He appreciated that small allowance of autonomy, even if the end result—padded underwear—remained the same. They had found a middle ground: Leon could participate in the process while still relying on Meredith’s guidance and final approval. Their schedules remained structured: breakfast together, chores or errands, and occasional nights out when Meredith felt he could handle a discrete pull-up beneath carefully chosen clothes. She insisted on the same strict potty rules—permission required, or else using his diaper. Yet she was more flexible in granting him access to the toilet if he asked politely and the timing worked. She even allowed him the small triumph of undressing himself sometimes, though major clothing changes—especially diaper changes—were still primarily her domain. And Leon discovered that, in this near-constant state of managed dependency, he found security. The embarrassment never fully disappeared—he still blushed whenever she patted his diaper to check for wetness in front of a mirror, or when she zipped him into a footed sleeper hours before bedtime. But he’d come to enjoy the closeness, the protective embrace of her authority. Their love life thrived, too, in its own secret way. While the story behind their padded routines and potty rules was not something they shared with others, it forged a profound trust between them. She cradled him with a mix of parental warmth and adult desire, bridging the gap between caretaker and partner. He, in turn, found joy in pleasing her—accepting her rules, even appreciating them, for what they gave him in return. On a crisp, clear morning, they stood together in the living room, the sun casting bright rectangles across the floor. Meredith had just finished checking his diaper—still dry—and was reminding him of his chores for the day. Leon stared up at her, feeling every inch the smaller man, yet entirely content. “Remember,” she was saying in that measured tone, “if you need the potty, you call me or text me. If I don’t answer, you use the diaper. No accidents on the floor.” “Yes, Meredith,” Leon responded readily. Then, unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his cheek against her torso. “Thank you,” he whispered, though he wasn’t quite sure for what—perhaps for everything. She laughed softly, brushing a hand over his hair. “You’re welcome, little one. Now off you go.” And so their life continued—a carefully balanced blend of loving dominance and welcomed submission, of soft crinkles and locked sleepers, of structure and devotion. In the end, their bond had become unbreakable: the tall, commanding woman and her tiny, adoring boyfriend, joined in a private world of mutual care and trust. Though it defied outside understanding, for them, it was perfect. And in the comfort of that shared knowledge, they closed the door to the rest of the world, content to exist precisely as they were—together.

Hope all can attend! These ABDL play parties are always a lot of fun. We have had 40-65 age players on average in attendance for these play parties. The Event takes place a BDSM dungeon that LEAP rents out so it will only be ABDLs and caregivers. We play games, play with toys, color, and there is also private rooms for more adult activities and changes. Hope to see you there!

Bed wetting, or more correctly called, secondary nocturnal enuresis (as it occurs after a child has attained night and day dryness for a period of time), is not a failure of either the child or the adult who toilet trained the child. It is a change caused by biological processes which is normally called puberty - where there is growth and change around the genitalia of the child. This causes a change in specific nervous impulses criticial in bladder control, and can effect both daytime and nighttime urinary control and response. Considering this, punishing a child for bed wetting is not only wrong, it is cruel, barbaric and inhumane, and considering the people that do this, this is to their own offspring / child, someone that they are supposed to teach, support and love. The simple way to handle a bedwetting child is to calmly and rationally talk to the child, support the child fully, and in the interest of letting the child have a full nights undisturbed sleep, convince the child to wear diapers / pull ups and/or absorbant pads on the bed. If cruelty is your drive, you should be cruel to those that tease or upset the bed wetting child. Secondary nocturnal enuresis is puberty driven, but the way the body deals with it is primarly from a mental perspective. The mind sees bed wetting as its own failure. As a result, it is up to the parent / career to remove that layer of stress from the child, and once it is gone, the mind will adapt very quickly. This is one of the few cases where seeing a professional - i.e. a doctor etc., is usually not a good idea as that convinces the child that 'something is wrong', when there is nothing wrong. The practice of a lot of doctors to prescribe a tablet instead of addressing the core problem - i.e. treaat a symptom rather than the problem. This tends to reinforce, in the childs mind that that 'something is wrong' where there is nothing medically wrong..... and it is a mistake driven by idiotic inconsiderate fools who claim to have the paitents interest first when instead al they want is money for a sticking plaster to hide the issue.

Thanks for all the kind words, Oz! Your support and feedback have meant so much! As for the nighttime wetting, I increasingly think it was largely or exclusively drink-related. Since going back to our much lower rate post-holiday, I seem to be back to dry nights. However, we’ll see if that holds long term. I’ll still be enjoying my padded pants, just a little less consistently!

Yes, she was a GREAT writer... However, she hasn't been on this site since Oct. 2021. It's always sad when someone just disappears like that. Hope nothing bad happened to her.

If I have even a partially full bladder, I can't get to sleep at all.

Do you live with your family or do you have roommates? From other posts it looks like English may not be your first language; in which country do you live? If you live with other people, then opportunities to be by yourself are many in the US and in Canada (drive out-of-town and stay at a motel/hotel, for example), but if you live in a country where those opportunities do not exist, then your road may be more difficult. Take small steps--don't try to go 24/7 to begin with. If you are able to be alone for a few hours, then start there.

Come a little bit further to meet me 😉😍

A very brief update on the Rearz BeDry Night Premium as I’ve drenched a few of them by now. They are a VERY good overnight nappy (to the extent disposable nappies can be). I actually think they’re the best night disposable product I’ve encountered, pulling ahead of even the redoubtable Rearz Inspire+ Mega and providing a somewhat-confident, near-cloth experience in bed. They do however exhibit some flaws if we break the rules and attempt to continue wearing them long into the next day. The BeDry Night Premium is only truly in its element when worn horizontally. Lined with acres of padding, the sheer coverage makes nocturnal leakage fairly unlikely, even if I happen to pee a bit lying on my side which is an insta-fail for most disposables. Like their more slender sibling, the BeDry “day”, they exhibit an almost cloth-like sense of pleasant wet warmth when you pee in them. Laying on my back, I can feel pee run down the inner surface of my nappy against my perineum before soaking in at the seat. That’s a good thing. There’s load of padding down there, even more than the comparatively svelte daytime product. This “sharing the love around” technique contrasts favourably against many other super-nappies that would simply saturate out the SAP at the location of emission, creating an area of totally wet padding that can no longer absorb, sending further pee out into the great world beyond rather than exploiting the acres of available dry padding elsewhere inside the nappy. TLDR: Dispersing pee is a great idea even if it feels a little wet whilst it’s happening. Come morning, there’s little sensory doubt that my pants are wet but somehow, I’m also very comfortable: sufficiently so to add to their urinary burden a little further even if I happen to be laying on my side. I never go very much and lately, most of the “go” happens whilst I’m asleep so the early morning dribbles are pretty minor. For the last few days I have limited recall of night time use but they’re drenched every morning anyway. I suspect that I’ve slid into a phase of permanent-bedwetting. I’m not necessarily convinced that this is a “development”. It’s happened before and proved to coincide with a fairly uncontrolled holiday-time alcohol consumption regime. With these nappies however, my terry-lined plastic pants (worn over the top of my night Rearz as insurance) haven’t seen any pee action at all. I could possibly dispense with them but since I’m just sleeping in a nappy and nothing else (much to the annoyance of my beloved) right now due to heat, I think I’ll keep that insurance for now as ANY leakage would otherwise, inevitably hit the sheets in the absence of pyjama pants. It’s just a shame that I’ve had to ditch a few come morning. I blame Sir Isaac Newton and his infernal invention of gravity, something those hook and loop tapes have not yet truly come to grips (did you see what I did there?) with yet. Today was a good example. I’d changed into my BeDry Night at around 7pm, spent the evening watching rubbish and drinking before going to bed a bit wet at around 11pm. I slept straight through and woke up VERY wet at around 7:30am. As usual, I didn’t need to pee at all, it had all already been taken care of. I could feel that almost hug-like “warm wet bum” sensation that told me that my nappy had seen a lot of action whilst I was dreaming. I got up planning to pull on some shorts for breakfast before realising immediately that instead, I was going to have to change. Upon standing up in the bathroom and pulling down my plastic pants, the two lower tapes of my BeDry Night immediately let go and the whole affair, very swollen, very yellow, started to slide down my thighs. I tried re-fastening those tapes but to no avail. Gravity triumphed again almost immediately. There was no way this could pass for day-wear. I suspect the “press out” leaks I’ve experienced on other, slightly drier mornings with these have NOT been true press-out leaks but rather, exposed wet inner nappy due to that same sagging. Later this particular morning, my beloved left for the supermarket to buy yet more food affording me the chance to mis-use the kitchen scales for science. The gross weight of my night nappy was 2303g. With a measured tare weight of 242g and assuming pee with a specific gravity on 1, this meant it was carrying a payload of not-quite 2.1 litres. Whilst it was quite secure in bed, it was clearly destined for mechanical failure with its wearer upright and mobilised. So we only got to use 17% of its “rated” capacity, albeit capacity calculated using the hilariously unhelpful ISO method. This does however beg the question of how far this nappy could be pushed in its bedtime modality (which to be fair, is the functionality claim whose flag it flies under). I just don’t want to spend that long in bed or deal with the marital fall-out when the “destructive” phase of the testing is reached.

This was absolutely adorable. Thank you for sharing it.

Thanks for the feedback Not a hundred chapters yet, unfortunately. Only 22 posted here, and up to 31 elsewhere… I really need to get my focus back to this story and get it finished. Although the plan is for 5 acts, of which the first one (19 chapters) feels like it will be the shortest… so a little over a hundred seems likely. Want to respond to your predictions, but don't want to leave spoilers 😛 So I'll just say thank you for letting me know, because seeing people's thoughts is important so I can learn which hints are likely to be noticed. And, while I haven't posted yet this year, have a new chapter to celebrate 23. Confidential Informant Estelle smoothed down her skirt nervously as she and Bernard approached Mrs. Stanwick's front door. The house was similar to theirs in size and style, but each owner had clearly stamped their personality on their home in years past. The garden paths connected together, but this path changed from neat limestone rounds to crazy paving when it crossed the boundary. The garden here was clearly loved, with well-tended flower boxes bursting with colour beneath each window, like a mirror so that the person inside the house could see the flower beds below. Bernard squeezed her hand reassuringly before ringing the doorbell. "Remember," he murmured, "we're just a normal couple getting to know our neighbours. Nothing to worry about." Mrs. Stanwick answered the door before Isadora could respond. "Oh, you made it! Come in, come in. I was just pouring tea. You like sweet tea, yes?" As they stepped inside, Isadora couldn't help but notice how cosy and cluttered the house was compared to their own. Every surface seemed covered with knick-knacks and framed photos of relatives. It was easy to make out at least a dozen young people; probably nieces and nephews. But despite the density of mementoes on every surface, it was also fastidiously clean. That should have been impressive, but Isadora quickly found herself thinking about how much time Mrs Stanwick must have, living in a family home after her husband had passed away. Was all the housework, and nosiness about her new neighbours, a sign that the widow needed something to fill her time? "Your home is lovely," she said, unable to find anything more specific to say about the clutter. There was almost too much to take in.” "Oh, thank you, dear," Mrs. Stanwick beamed. "I do like to keep things homey. I never had kids myself, more’s the pity, but all the nieces and nephews send me a lot of mementoes from their travels, so it’s like a collage of all the places they’ve been. Now, why don’t you take a seat and I'll fetch the tea." As they settled onto an overstuffed floral sofa, Bernard leaned in close. "She seems eager to share," he whispered. "Let her direct the conversation. It’s okay to show enthusiasm if she has interesting anecdotes; don’t worry too much about remembering every detail." “I know,” Isadora hissed, just a little frustrated that he was treating her as an apprentice rather than a partner. She’d done all the classes on information gathering, and she was sure that she’d had more experience with neighbours than Brock could imagine. She wanted to tell him that she knew what she was doing, and that this wasn’t a babysitting job, but Mrs Stanwick was already back in the doorway with a tray. There were three ornate crystal glasses on the tray, each decorated with a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint on the rim, as well as a large pitcher of iced tea. Sure enough, as soon as the tea was poured Mrs Stanwick launched into a detailed account of the neighbourhood's history and current residents. It wasn’t clear what order she was mentioning them in; she seemed to jump back and forth between people in their street and those who lived on the far side of Evergreen Estates, and even former residents who Bernard and Estelle were unlikely to meet. Isadora recognised many of the names, and did her best to match the stories their host was spinning against the profiles she had done her best to memorise; but so many of the stories seemed to be lacking in purpose, odd factoids that she couldn’t see any reason for Stanwick to mention. "Now, you simply must meet the Arrencani brothers," she said, and Isadora suddenly tried to give her full attention. It was hard to focus, though, when she was sure she’d just seen Brock perform some mysterious sleight-of-hand with his glass. "They practically run this place. My husband would quarrel with them on occasion, but never about anything important. Wonderful boys really, always looking out for everyone." Isadora nodded, careful to keep her expression neutral. "That sounds wonderful. We look forward to meeting them." “Oh yes,” Brock said with a nod of his own, and raised his drink to his lips for a second’s pause before continuing. “I believe you mentioned them before. The Home Owners’ Committee, right? We were actually thinking of getting involved with something like that. I’d love to be a part of this neighbourhood, now I’ve got somewhere to settle down instead of constantly travelling.” “I’m glad to hear that,” Mrs Stanwick answered, but for some reason her eyes were on Isadora as she spoke. “When new people move in around here, well, they don’t always make an effort to understand the spirit of the community. I’m sure you can understand. So you’ve got me a little…” Her words were cut off as they heard a knocking at the door. Mrs Stanwick leaned back in her chair a little and craned her neck; and Isadora couldn’t quite understand what she was looking at, until she visualised the gardens outside. There was a mirror in one of the trees, wasn’t there? To provide better visibility for people backing out of the driveway. So would Mrs Stanwick be able to see all the way across into their front yard from here? “Oh, looks like it’s Selma. I’ll bet that she’s come to welcome some new neighbours as well, she’s always attentive and wants to protect everyone like a mother hen. There’s some rumours she might have a little more care for young Marco Arrencani, but I wouldn’t pay heed to gossip like that. She doesn’t seem the type, I’m sure.” Isadora blushed at those words. On the planes to get here, she had suggested a possible relationship between the two young people, based on the few fragments of available information. Brock had dismissed it out of hand, which only made Isadora wonder what he’d seen in the files that she hadn’t picked up on. But if other people in the neighbourhood said the same thing, maybe she should be considering what Brock might have missed instead. Brock and Isadora exchanged a quick glance as Mrs Stanwick wandered back out to the hallway and returned leading a petite brunette in a neatly-pressed blue and white dress that could so easily have been taken for some kind of nurse’s uniform. "This is Selma," Mrs. Stanwick announced. "She works for Lorenzo Arrencani up at the big house. Selma, dear, these are my new neighbours, Estelle and Bernard." Selma smiled politely, but Isadora noticed a hint of wariness in her eyes. "Welcome to Evergreen Estates," she said. "Mr Arrencani asked me to drop off a welcome basket for you. I did knock next door, but of course there was no answer. I guessed that you might be meeting Mrs Stanwick already. It’s a pleasure to meet you both." She reached out to offer handshakes, and Isadora noticed that she had a firm grip and possibly a strength that belied her size. "How thoughtful," Brock said, rising to shake her hand. "Thank you very much, Selma. And please, convey our thanks to Mr. Arrencani as well." As Selma set down an elaborate gift basket, Isadora caught a glimpse of expensive wines and gourmet treats inside. Or maybe they just looked expensive; she was no real judge of that. She wondered idly if any of it was bugged, but then inwardly chided herself for thoughts that seemed more than a little paranoid. "I’m afraid I can’t stay to chat," Selma said as Brock tried to make more conversation, already backing towards the door. "Lots to do at the main house. It was nice meeting you both." “I understand,” Brock said easily. “So much work to do, so little time. In a way, I’m glad that I won’t have that problem soon. I do hope that the rest of the day is pleasant for you. Perhaps we can get to know each other a little better at our party.” “Party?” Selma asked, seeming a little surprised by the turn the conversation was taking. Isadora was just as taken aback, but somehow managed to keep her instinctive response comparatively muted. “Oh, just a little housewarming thing,” Bernard said. “Always good to meet all the neighbours. I’ve got to invite everyone, I think, but while you two ladies have been the first to welcome us to the area, I think you should also be the first I invite around.” “Oh yes, that’s a good idea,” Isadora said. And after a moment to think about how Estelle would respond, she added: “I’m sure I can put something together. Something to show our new friends that we’re really committed to the community spirit, and that we want to integrate into this new… umm… community?” “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Mrs Stanwick beamed. “I’ll be happy to let people know about it, if you would like. I'll make sure everyone who's anyone attends, and then you’ll be properly one of us. So much better than hanging around on the edge of town, wouldn’t you say?” “Now, I don’t think that’s fair,” Selma answered, and Isadora could only look at the two women in confusion. There was something here going over her head, and it was a fundamental part of Isadora’s character that she didn’t like to be in the dark about any mystery. But she wasn’t really sure what she could say now, because she didn’t even know what the question could be. “You can’t… We don’t know anyone else’s situation, and there’s no need to be speculating. Perhaps she has a sick relative or someone who needs her. You’d feel bad if she comes back and hears all the things people have been guessing, wouldn’t you?” “I didn’t mention anyone,” Mrs Stanwick answered, raising an eyebrow. “But I do think that Mr Solomon deserves better. I know what it’s like to lose someone you thought you could depend on. And it’s not a good feeling, it it. If it was a family thing, I’m sure he would at least know where she was, but we can all see him fretting.” Isadora tried to put the pieces together in her head, but she just didn’t have enough information. Someone in the neighbourhood had done something the gossip disapproved of, that much was for sure, but she didn’t know what the context could be. And as the dutiful housewife, she couldn’t even ask without seeming nosy. “Trouble in paradise?” Brock asked, and Isadora felt herself shrink back into herself. He couldn’t be going to blow their cover right away, could he? Surely even he would know better than that. “I shouldn’t pry, I know, but I always say it’s not good for a young man to have too much time by himself. Maybe he needs an evening out with the boys to take his mind off whatever has him fretting.” “You could be right,” Selma said with a subtle nod. “Young Victor hosts a poker game for some of his friends in the Estates, so I’m sure he’s not as lonely as all that. He’s got his friends, after all. And like I say, a couple don’t have to spend every minute together.” “She should be there to look after him,” Mrs Stanwick insisted. “Not swanning off God-knows-where and leaving her husband to fend for himself. I’m sure you’d never do that, would you, young lady?” She ended with a piercing stare, which seemed to rob Isadora of the power of speech. She should have been paying attention to the conversation, but instead she’d been searching her memory for neighbours named Victor. Victor Solomon, she thought. Had a house on the very edge of Evergreen Estates, near one of the back roads which led away from the area. His was one of the properties she’d tried to memorise the layout of, in case there was some need to leave the neighbourhood without passing through the monitored gates. But that didn’t tell her what she needed to say to this sudden question. “I can take care of myself,” Brock answered smoothly. “Estelle is happy to do everything around the house, but sometimes I think I’ll have to be firm about wanting to pull my weight. So if she has a family emergency, or a bachelorette party with some of her school friends, I would be happy to deal with things by myself.” He reached across to Isadora and warmly gripped her hand, and she got the distinct impression of a man who liked to be in control showing what a good husband he was. It was all about his image. Was that because Brock wasn’t good at playing the romantic role, or because Bernard was supposed to be someone who described himself as more of a nice guy than he really was? Isadora felt that she needed to say something, though, so he wasn’t the only one pulling his weight. “You mean you’d like to buy yourself the fanciest food you can imagine without me telling you it’s a waste of money?” she asked. “We can afford it,” Brock said, not turning to meet her eyes. And Isadora just nodded; of course they could. And that was exactly how he wanted the new neighbours to see them; an overconfident man and a slightly neurotic younger wife who couldn’t quite adapt to the fact that money was no object now. It was easy to imagine how Estelle might feel, because those feelings were so close to her own. She was almost starting to feel confident in her ability to play the role; which meant that her anxiety over the unexpected housewarming party was the biggest worry in her mind right now. What was Brock thinking? They hadn’t planned anything like that. But then, her concerns would all be shared with Estelle, who would be just as worried about impressing the posh new neighbours. Maybe it would help her to get the sympathy of the other women in the area; because she was already getting the impression that the men here were used to getting everything they wanted. There was a good chance she would be able to find a kindred spirit among the wives, and maybe hear the secrets that the men didn’t want to share. “I should probably head back to the house, anyway,” Selma said, glancing at her clock. That was no surprise to Isadora; she knew that the woman was some kind of domestic servant to the Arrencanis, so wouldn’t have much free time to gossip with the neighbours. But was she really hurrying back to work, or did she just want to extricate herself from any more gossip about an absent friend? It was hard to tell. “We should probably be getting back to work as well,” Brock said with a shrug. “Those boxes won’t unpack themselves, will they, sweetie?” He offered his hand to Isadora, helping her stand, and somehow that touch felt more intimate than she could easily explain. She was speechless for now, and glad that Brock was so confident in taking the lead. “Thank you so much for the tea, Mrs. Stanwick,” he said “And for the casserole. I’m sure we’ll see you soon. And Selma, please convey our gratitude to Mr. Arrencani for the welcome basket." Isadora rose, smoothing her skirt. "Yes, thank you both. It's been lovely meeting you." As they walked back to their new home, she waited until they were out of earshot before whispering, "A party? Are you sure that's wise?" Brock grinned, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "It's perfect. We'll get to meet everyone at once, establish ourselves as sociable neighbours, and maybe even gather some useful intel. Plus," he added with a wink, "I do throw a mean cocktail party." Isadora couldn't help but laugh, despite her lingering anxiety. "Alright, Mr. Klein. I suppose I'd better start planning then. But please, tell me those cocktails won’t be as strong as your usual?" As they entered their new home, Isadora felt a mix of excitement and apprehension mixed in with her uncertainty over the way he hadn’t answered. Their mission was truly underway now, and there was no turning back. She only hoped they were ready for whatever challenges lay ahead. But as she watched Brock whistling cheerfully while he unpacked, she realised that maybe, just maybe, they might play these roles well enough to make the supervisors back at Millennium House proud.

Hope he doesn’t get the two mixed up ! 😳 🤪

A savvy entrepreneur had the idea to sell diapers to ball drop revelers. They appear to be plastic backed tape-on briefs (good for putting on without removing your pants) but not a super absorbent style (gotta get those repeat customers). You gotta believe that like everything in times square they are being sold at an incredible markup. MSN article

Have a happy new year full of joy, good health and wet diapers everyone!

Here are the remaining chapters! I hope everyone had a great Christmas! _________________________ Chapter 8: Cocoa and Confessions The small wooden booth near the rink served piping-hot cocoa, the aroma of rich chocolate mingling with the crisp winter air. Emily held her steaming cup close, letting the warmth seep into her fingers as she and Ben walked in silence toward the nearby bleachers. The awkwardness between them was palpable, thick enough to cut through the cheerful hum of the Christmas Village. They sat down, the bleachers slightly damp from the snow. Emily stared at her cocoa, her mind racing. She hated awkward silences, and this one felt like it could swallow her whole. Desperate to lighten the mood, she glanced at Ben and blurted, “Should you be drinking cocoa this close to bedtime?” The words hung in the air like a lead balloon, and Emily immediately winced. “I – I didn’t mean – ” Ben chuckled softly, cutting off her apology. “It’s fine,” he said, his lips curling into an amused smile. “You’re not wrong, sort of, not that it makes a difference when I drink something …” Emily looked at him, surprised. His laugh wasn’t forced or awkward – it was genuine. For the first time that evening, she saw something in him she hadn’t noticed before: vulnerability. He didn’t seem less dignified or charming, but there was a small crack in the easy way he carried himself, the always-confident exterior. He still carried himself with grace, but now, Emily could see a hint of effort behind it. They sipped their cocoa in silence for a few more moments, each trying to act like the earlier moment on the rink hadn’t happened. But the harder they tried not to think about it, the more impossible it became. Emily finally sighed and set her cup down on the bench beside her. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. “I’m just going to say it.” Ben turned to her, his expression cautious but curious. “I designed the waistband on that diaper,” she said, gesturing vaguely at his midsection. Ben blinked, startled. “You did?” “Just the graphic elements,” Emily clarified, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Not the functional design.” To her surprise, Ben smiled slightly. “Well, it’s... nice.” Emily arched an eyebrow. “Nice? Come on, Ben. No one likes that waistband. It’s boring and clinical and... so uninspired.” She shook her head. “I hate it.” Ben laughed at that, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Okay, fine. I was fibbing. It’s not exactly... stylish.” “Thank you,” Emily said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “It’s not like I wanted to make it that way. I had all these ideas for something better – something people could actually feel good about wearing. But the company doesn’t care.” Ben’s smile softened. “Well, I think it’s impressive that you care. That’s more than most people can say.” Emily looked at him, her cheeks warming again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. His words felt genuine, not like the empty praise she sometimes got from people who didn’t really understand what she did. Their conversation shifted, becoming less stilted as the awkwardness between them melted away. They talked about their lives, their work, their families. The laughter and chatter from the Christmas Village became a distant backdrop as Ben opened up about his own struggles. “It’s not easy,” Ben said after a pause. “Being in diapers – it’s something I’ve dealt with for a long time. But it’s not just the physical part. It’s... dating.” Emily tilted her head, her brows knitting together. “Dating?” Ben nodded, staring into his cocoa. “It’s hard to let someone get close when you’re always afraid they’ll see this as a dealbreaker. Most people do. So, I’ve never really... been in a relationship.” Emily’s chest ached at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. “Never?” He shook his head. “It’s easier to stay on the surface. You don’t get hurt that way.” Emily frowned, searching for something comforting to say. “A good woman won’t care about that,” she said, though her tone faltered. Ben glanced at her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Do you really believe that?” Emily hesitated, then sighed. “No. I mean... I want to believe it. But the truth is, people can be shallow. I know I’m supposed to say it doesn’t matter, but...” “But?” Ben prompted, his voice soft. She met his gaze, her own steady. “But I don’t mind. I mean that.” Ben studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. Whatever he found there seemed to ease something in him. His shoulders relaxed, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. “Thanks,” he said simply. Emily smiled back, warmth blooming in her chest. For the first time all night, the tension between them felt entirely gone. After a few moments of quiet, Ben cleared his throat and set his cup down. “Listen,” he said, his voice careful but warm. “If you’re not ready to head home yet... I was thinking. I’ve got a fireplace, a stocked kitchen, and a little Christmas cider recipe I’ve been perfecting. Would you want to come back to my place for a while?” Emily blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. But there was no pressure in his tone, no expectation in his eyes – just an earnest openness that made her chest tighten. She found herself smiling. Specifically, smiling at the prospect of getting pounded good and hard like a Christmas pastry, but not in a slutty unChristmasy way. “That sounds nice,” she said softly. “I’d like that.” Ben’s grin widened, and he stood, offering her his hand to help her up. She took it, her heart racing slightly as their fingers intertwined. The Christmas lights cast a soft glow over the snow-dusted path as they walked together, leaving the bustling rink behind. For the first time in a long time, Emily felt completely at ease – and for the first time ever, she was excited to see where the night would take her. Chapter 9: A Hygge Christmas The walk to Ben’s home was magical, a quiet journey through the snow-dusted edges of Chestnut Grove. His property was nestled at the far side of the town’s frozen pond, a short trek from the Christmas Village but worlds away in its tranquil isolation. The house came into view slowly, the glow of its warmly lit windows casting a soft golden light across the pristine snow. Emily’s breath caught as she took it in. The house was unassuming yet elegant, its dark wood blending seamlessly with the wintery surroundings. String lights framed the windows, their gentle twinkle reflected in the icy pond. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the faint scent of wood smoke mingled with the crisp night air. “This is your place?” Emily asked as they reached the front door. Ben nodded, his expression modest. “It’s home.” The interior of the house was even cozier than the exterior promised. The term hygge came to Emily’s mind immediately, though even that didn’t seem to fully capture it. The living room was an open space with vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting flickering shadows across the room. The furnishings were simple but refined – a mix of hand-crafted wood and plush textiles in warm, earthy tones. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, tastefully adorned with white lights and ornaments that looked both antique and handmade. “Wow,” Emily said, her voice soft with wonder. “This is incredible.” “Thanks,” Ben said, smiling as he hung his coat on a rustic peg near the door. “It’s taken a few years to get it the way I want.” “It’s perfect,” Emily murmured, still taking it all in. Ben stepped into the kitchen and returned moments later with two steaming mugs. “Christmas cider,” he said, handing one to her. “My own recipe.” Emily took the mug, savoring the aroma of spices and citrus before taking a sip. It was delicious, warming her from the inside out. “This is amazing,” she said. “You’re full of surprises.” Ben chuckled, then gestured toward the living room. “Feel free to look around. I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” He didn’t elaborate, but Emily understood the unspoken reason behind his departure – a diaper change. She nodded and smiled, amused at the way he defused what could’ve been an awkward moment with a skillful but appropriate cliche. On top of everything else, he was funny. As Ben disappeared down a hallway, Emily turned her attention to the room. Above the fireplace hung a series of framed photos. They depicted Ben in various volunteer roles: planting trees with a group of armless children, guiding a therapy dog at a hospital for the terminally dying, and standing with a team of rescuers in front of a fire truck. In each photo, his smile was the same – genuine, kind, and steady. “You’re something else, Ben Wright,” Emily muttered to herself, sipping her cider. Her musings were interrupted by the soft click of nails on hardwood. She turned to see a golden retriever padding toward her, tail wagging and wearing what could only be described as the world’s cutest Christmas sweater – a red knit adorned with tiny golden retrievers each wearing the world’s cutest Christmas sweater. “Well, hello there,” Emily said, crouching down to greet the dog. The pupper nuzzled her hand, its tail wagging faster as she scratched behind its ears. “And who are you?” “That’s Jasper,” Ben said, reappearing in the doorway. He’d changed into a soft gray sweater and dark jeans, his hair slightly damp. He smiled as he approached, leaning against the arm of the couch. “I found him a few years ago during a search-and-rescue mission. I volunteer with the local team.” Emily looked up at him, intrigued. “Search and rescue?” Ben nodded, his gaze softening as he watched Jasper. “He was curled up with a newborn that had wandered away from its parents, keeping the kid warm until we found her. After that, I couldn’t leave him behind. He’s the reason I started the animal shelter.” Emily’s heart squeezed. “Even your dog is perfect.” Ben chuckled, sitting down beside her on the couch. “Jasper’s just a dog doing what dogs do. He’s the real hero.” Perfectly humble too. Emily smiled, leaning back into the couch as Jasper curled up at their feet. The warmth of the fire, the soft glow of the Christmas lights, and the rich scent of the Christmas tree made the moment feel almost dreamlike. She turned to Ben, finding his gaze already on her. “So,” she said, her voice light, “are you going to tell me how someone like you doesn’t have people lined up around the block?” Ben laughed softly but didn’t look away. “I could ask you the same thing.” Emily shrugged. “Work keeps me busy. And I’m... particular. When I asked my last date if he ever knits sweaters for resuscitated fish, he looked at me like I’m crazy. But he was born in Really Big City, so … Maybe my standards are too high.” Ben nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding someone who fits … I do the fish sweater thing on Tuesdays, by the way. Not for the money, either. I won’t take a dime of those fishes’ money, not after what they’ve been through.” “It is,” Emily admitted. She hesitated, then added, “But I think it’s harder for you.” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” “Because you’re so... you,” Emily said, gesturing vaguely. “You’re basically perfect. And I think that scares people.” Ben’s laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. “Perfect? Not even close.” Emily tilted her head. “You seem pretty close.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly. “It’s not always easy, letting people in. I’ve spent so much time convincing myself that my... situation is a dealbreaker, it’s hard to imagine someone who wouldn’t see it that way.” Emily’s chest tightened. “I told you I don’t mind. I meant that.” “I know,” Ben said, his voice gentle. “But it’s not just about what you say. It’s about what I feel. And trusting someone enough to let them get close... that’s still hard for me.” Emily reached out, placing her hand over his. “What if you didn’t have to trust all at once? What if it was just... one step at a time?” Ben looked at her, his eyes searching hers. Slowly, he nodded. “One step at a time,” he repeated, his voice soft. What a concept. He wondered if she’d come up with that herself. Their eyes held for a moment before Emily leaned closer, her heart pounding. Ben met her halfway, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that sent warmth coursing through her. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as though neither of them wanted to break the fragile spell. As her hand slid to his side, Ben tensed slightly. Emily paused, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Is this okay?” she asked softly. Ben hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I just...” “You’re nervous,” Emily said gently, finishing the thought for him. “It’s okay.” Ben exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ve never... let anyone...” “I know,” Emily said, her voice steady. She smiled, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “And I don’t want to push. But if you’re okay with it, I want you to feel safe with me.” Ben studied her, his gaze flickering with a mix of vulnerability and trust. Finally, he nodded again. “Okay.” Emily kissed him again, her hand moving carefully. When her fingers brushed the waistband of his diaper, he flinched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. She paused, meeting his gaze. “Still okay?” “Still okay,” he murmured. They kissed again, the fire crackling softly in the background. Emily marveled at the way his confidence seemed to bloom under her touch, the way his guard slipped just enough to let her in as her hands wandered from his face to his shoulders, his shoulders to his chest, all the way to his hips. She could hear his diaper crinkling, just barely audible over her own heartbeat Michael Bublé’s cover of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”. She wanted him like Michael wanted that hippo. Michael’s mom told him that hippo would eat him up, and that’s exactly what she was hoping for. As her hands explored everywhere, his own stayed away, and she realized – he’s never been in a relationship. He probably hadn’t been with a woman since he went back to diapers, however long ago that was. He was afraid to touch her or didn’t know how. When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Emily smiled, and she knew she’d have to take the lead, and she was happy to do it. “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?” she asked, her tone light but her intent clear (i.e., to fuck, but in a family-friendly Christmas kinda way). Ben hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Let me...” Emily shook her head, taking his hand. “It’s okay. Come on.” She stood, her fingers still laced with his, and led him toward the hallway. The warmth of his trust filled the space between them, and as they stepped into the soft glow of his bedroom, Emily knew she had never felt closer to anyone in her life. Chapter 10: Trust and Confessions The fire in the bedroom fireplace had long since burned down to embers, and the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the bedside lamp. Emily lay on her side, watching Ben as he stirred. His hair was tousled, his face relaxed, and his eyes half-lidded with contentment. Ben sat up and stretched, then reached for the edge of the bed to stand. Emily noticed the slight hesitation in his movements, the way his confidence wavered just slightly. He glanced back at her and gave a small, sheepish smile. “I should, uh, put something on.” Emily reached out, resting a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Wait.” Ben blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to surprise. “You want to...?” He trailed off, his voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation. Emily shook her head, her voice soft but steady. “Not that. I mean, I wouldn’t say no to Round 4, but...” She sat up and met his gaze. “I thought maybe I could... help.” “Help?” Ben echoed, his brows knitting together. She smiled, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Diaper you.” Ben’s eyes widened slightly, and he sat back on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to... I mean, you really don’t have to do that.” “I know I don’t have to,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I want to.” He hesitated, glancing down at his hands. “I’ve never let anyone... not like that.” “I get it,” she said softly. “It’s a lot to trust someone with, but...” She took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I work at a diaper company, remember? I know what I’m doing. Also, my finger was just in … How much more intimate could a diaper change be?” Ben chuckled faintly, though his cheeks flushed. “Fair point.” “Where are they?” she asked, her tone light, almost playful. He hesitated for another moment before nodding toward the dresser. “Top drawer.” Emily got up, the wooden floor cool against her feet as she crossed the room. She opened the drawer and found a neat array of diapers inside – different styles and thicknesses, arranged with care. Instinctively, she reached for one of the thicker, more absorbent ones, understanding it was the bedtime diaper without needing to ask. She returned to the bed, holding the diaper, rash cream, and powder. “Lay back,” she said gently. Ben did as she asked, his movements slow and uncertain. Emily could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided meeting her gaze. She placed a hand on his arm, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, she smiled. “I’ve got this.” He nodded, exhaling deeply, and let himself relax. Emily worked with quiet confidence, unfolding the diaper and lifting his legs. He let himself be guided by her, and she expertly slid the diaper under him before lowering his bottom to the soft, cottony inside and ushering his knees open. She smoothed a thin layer of rash cream over his skin, her touch professional and unhurried. The powder came next, a light dusting that she spread evenly before positioning his manhood, beginning to stiffen again, downward in the diaper before folding it over him. She taped the diaper snugly into place, smoothing the edges with a gentle press. “There,” she said softly, brushing her hands clean. “All done.” She patted the front of his diaper; it felt natural to them both. Ben sat up slowly, his cheeks still faintly pink but his smile warm. “You’re... really good at that.” Emily laughed softly, setting the supplies aside. “I told you. It’s kind of my thing.” He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this... comfortable with someone.” Emily’s heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to thank me.” They switched off the lights, the room falling into comfortable darkness as they slipped under the covers. Emily instinctively curled into Ben, his arm draping over her waist. “Good night, Ben,” she whispered, letting the quiet comfort of the moment lull her to sleep. “Good night, Emily.” Normally, he’d get out of bed to spin the yarn for the fish sweaters, but he had a new and more important responsibility: being Emily’s big Christmas spoon. Chapter 11: Morning Reflections Emily woke to the soft morning light streaming through Ben’s bedroom window. She blinked sleepily, the warmth of the covers tempting her to stay put a little longer. But the other half of the bed was empty, and as her mind cleared, she sat up, brushing her hair from her face. “Ben?” she called softly, but there was no answer. She glanced around, taking in the cozy details of his room – the handmade wooden bedframe, the neatly stacked books on the bedside table, the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air. Unable to resist, Emily swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her curiosity tugged her toward the dresser where Ben kept his diapers. She hesitated, then opened the drawer slowly, her heart beating a little faster. Inside, she found an assortment of neatly folded diapers, stacked with care. They were all different types – some thicker, some plastic, all medical. The brand she’d designed looked pitiful next to the others. She knew it was an inferior product; she wasn’t responsible for their functionality, as her boss was never shy about reminding her, but she wished she was at least designing boring wetness indicators and patterns for a better quality diaper. There were no pull-ups and, notably, no regular underwear at all. The realization hit her: Ben must wear diapers all the time. She ran her fingers lightly over the edges of the diapers, her mind racing. Why would someone like Ben need them 24/7? She assumed it must be a medical reason. He hadn’t offered any detail last night, and she hadn’t pressed him. But now, standing here, she couldn’t help but wonder. Closing the drawer gently, she made her way to the bathroom. The bathroom was as spotless as the rest of Ben’s home. Simple, masculine, and efficient, with just a touch of rustic charm. Emily settled onto the toilet, letting out a breath as she relieved herself. Her gaze wandered, and her eyes landed on a diaper genie tucked into the corner of the room. She tilted her head, taking in the sight. It looked perfectly ordinary, but the context made it anything but. She realized it was likely where Ben disposed of his used diapers. She sniffed and caught the faintest scent of wet diapers. She thought she might detect something earthier, but she couldn’t tell. She quickly stopped herself. It wasn’t her place to speculate, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask him. But the thought lingered: was Ben afraid to let someone in because he worried they’d reject this part of him? A shameful wave of pity crept into her thoughts, but she quickly pushed it away. Ben wasn’t someone to be pitied; he was thoughtful, talented, and kind – so much more than his circumstances. Still, it was sad. He had so much to offer, and he didn’t deserve the self-doubt, much less judgment of others if it ever came to pass. Or the rumors that might start in a small town, just as the rumor about their date had spread effortlessly. Could she see past his need for diapers? She paused, considering the question carefully. Yes, she told herself. Even if he was bowel incontinent, she wouldn’t care. That would just be another part of who he was, or so she told herself. The thought settled her, and she didn’t interrogate it further. It didn’t matter, as she wasn’t staying in Chestnut Grove past Christmas Day. Part of her even considered leaving on Christmas Day afternoon to avoid the crowds on the train, but her mom would be hurt if she did. She finished up in the bathroom and washed her hands before heading back to the bedroom to get dressed. After slipping back into her clothes, Emily turned to see Jasper standing in the doorway, tail wagging softly. “Well, good morning to you, too,” she said, crouching to pet him. Jasper nuzzled her hand affectionately before turning and trotting away. Emily followed him. Jasper led her to the kitchen, where the rich smell of coffee and sizzling bacon greeted her. Ben stood at the stove, moving with easy confidence as he worked. He’d changed into a fitted sweater and jeans. On the counter sat bowls of fresh fruit, fluffy scrambled eggs, and perfectly toasted bread. The table was already set, complete with a small vase holding sprigs of holly and a lit candle. Emily stopped in her tracks, a smile tugging at her lips. “Wow. You didn’t have to do all this.” Ben turned and grinned, flipping a pancake expertly. “Good morning. And yes, I did. Sit down – you’re not allowed to lift a finger.” She laughed and moved to the table, taking a seat as he added the finishing touches to their plates. “So, what other secrets are you hiding? You’re a chef now, too?” “Studied in Paris during college summers,” he said casually, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. “I figured it’d come in handy someday. And I’m certified as a vegan butcher; I carved those oranges into orange slices myself.” Emily took a sip, her smile widening. “You’re full of surprises, Ben Wright.” He joined her at the table, setting down two plates loaded with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “Dig in,” he said, gesturing to the food. “I hope you’re hungry.” They ate in companionable silence for a while, the clink of silverware and the occasional crackle from the kitchen hearth filling the space. Eventually, Ben cleared his throat, his expression tentative. “Can I ask you something?” he said. “Of course,” Emily replied, setting down her fork. Ben hesitated, his gaze flicking away before returning to hers. “About last night... I just – I mean, you really don’t mind? About me. About the... diapers?” Emily reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I don’t mind, Ben. I meant that.” He studied her face carefully, searching for any hint of insincerity. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you.” Emily hesitated before continuing. “Can I ask... why? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Ben paused, his expression thoughtful. “It’s...,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “It’s just something I’ve dealt with for a long time.” Emily nodded, sensing he didn’t want to go into detail. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks for trusting me with that.” Ben smiled faintly, a mix of gratitude and relief in his expression. “Thanks for not running for the hills.” Emily laughed softly. “If I were going to run, I would’ve done it by now.” She was going to run later, the day after Christmas, except she preferred to think of it as “going home.” They finished breakfast, the tension between them easing into the same comfortable rhythm they’d shared the night before. As they cleared the table, Ben glanced toward the workshop visible through the kitchen window. “Do you want to see the furniture workshop?” he asked, his tone lighter now. “I’ll need a quick shower before I give you a ride home, but you can check it out while you wait.” Emily perked up at the suggestion. “I’d love to.” Ben pointed toward the back door. “Just follow the path – it’s the red barn. I’ll catch up in a bit.” “Got it,” Emily said, grabbing her coat. “Take your time.” Chapter 12: Discoveries and Distance The red barn workshop was nothing short of a masterpiece in itself. Emily stepped inside, and her breath caught as she took in the sight. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, illuminating a space that felt equal parts functional and artistic. Every surface gleamed with care, from the workbenches laden with neatly arranged tools to the rows of carefully stained wood stacked along one wall. Ben’s furniture was stunning. Each piece had an undeniable character – chairs with graceful curves, tables with intricate carvings, and cabinets so expertly crafted they seemed like they belonged in a museum. She ran her fingers over the edge of a rocking chair, marveling at the smoothness of the wood, the attention to detail. “You’re amazing,” she whispered to herself, smiling despite the tension that had lingered since breakfast. For a while, she wandered the workshop, her admiration for Ben’s skill growing with every discovery. The space was clean, organized, and deeply personal – each piece of furniture an extension of the man who had created it. She felt a pang of guilt for the doubt she had felt earlier. Maybe she was overthinking everything. Maybe Ben really was just that kind, that wonderful. Satisfied she’d seen enough, Emily left the workshop and made her way back to the house. The brisk morning air stung her cheeks, and as she stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapped around her like a blanket. She intended to head straight to the kitchen, but she must have taken a wrong turn, because the hallway she found herself in didn’t look familiar. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened a door near the end of the hall. She paused on the threshold, her eyes widening as she took in the room. At first, she thought it was a nursery. The pastel-colored walls, the soft play mat covering the floor, and the toys scattered about all gave it a childlike feel. But as she stepped inside, the details began to register, and the realization dawned on her. Everything in the room was adult-sized. The crib was large enough for a grown person to fit comfortably, its bars smooth and polished. A playpen in one corner was similarly oversized, and next to it stood a rocking horse that looked sturdy enough to hold an adult. A changing table dominated one wall, fully stocked with colorful, babyish disposable and cloth diapers, along with plastic pants in various prints. A dresser nearby was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of babyish clothing – onesies, footie pajamas, shortalls, overalls, and other playful outfits, all clearly made for someone Ben’s size. Her eyes were drawn to the wall above the play area, where pastel stenciling arched across the space, spelling out Baby Benny. The mobile above the crib was adorned with soft letters that also spelled Benny, swaying gently in the breeze from the heating vent. Emily’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned to survey the rest of the room. A table next to an oversized rocking chair held a jar of pacifiers – each one designed for an adult’s mouth. A bottle warmer rested nearby, with a bottle so large it looked comical. Then there was the heavy wooden hairbrush lying on the table. Emily’s cheeks warmed as its purpose clicked. The floor mat was colorful and soft, scattered with toys ranging from plush animals to stacking blocks, some normal-sized and others clearly meant for adult hands. Emily’s gaze lingered there, her mind racing. This wasn’t just a room – this was a fully realized, lovingly curated space. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen. The craftsmanship of the furniture struck her first; even the oversized crib and changing table were works of art. But the purpose of the room was impossible to ignore. The surprise wore off quickly, replaced by an odd, distant sense of understanding. Working at a diaper company, Emily had learned about ABDLs. She knew there were people who found comfort, joy, or even arousal in embracing a regressed role. She’d never felt strongly about it one way or the other, but she did envy the colorful and playful designs often found in ABDL products – so different from the sterile, clinical look of what she usually worked on. Still, this? She had not expected this. Her chest tightened as she thought about Ben. He had let her believe his need for diapers was purely medical. While he hadn’t outright lied, he had let her fill in the gaps. The thought left her unsettled, but more than that, she felt disappointment. Disappointment in him for not being honest, and disappointment in herself for letting herself believe he was perfect. Of course, he wasn’t. No one was. Emily shook her head, quietly returning everything to its original place before slipping out of the room. She closed the door softly behind her and made her way back to the kitchen, her mind swirling. When Ben came back downstairs, his hair damp from his shower and his face freshly shaven, he found Emily seated at the kitchen table, her coffee cup empty. He smiled warmly, though his expression faltered slightly when she met him with a polite but distant look. “How was the workshop?” he asked, taking a seat across from her. “It’s incredible,” Emily said, her voice careful. “You’re an amazing craftsman.” Ben’s smile returned, but it was tinged with uncertainty. “Thanks. That place is my sanctuary, I guess. I’m glad you liked it.” “I did,” she said, though her tone was neutral. She took a sip of water, avoiding his gaze. Ben hesitated, clearly sensing the shift in her demeanor. “Is something wrong?” “No,” Emily said quickly, her smile forced. “Just... thinking about getting back. I don’t want to give the small-town rumor mill any more material.” Ben’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “I can drive you home.” “That’s okay,” Emily said, glancing at her phone. “I’ll Uber.” The hurt in his expression was subtle, but Emily saw it, and it twisted her stomach. “I had fun,” she said quickly, hoping to ease the moment. Ben nodded, though his quiet confidence seemed to have slipped. “Good. I’ll... text you later?” “Sure,” Emily replied, her tone noncommittal. They stood in the doorway for a long moment before Ben leaned down to kiss her. It was awkward, lacking the warmth and ease of the night before (when the two virtual strangers fucked, but not in a slutty way; more of a romcom the-holidays-don’t-count kind of way). When they pulled apart, his eyes searched hers, but she looked away. “See you,” Emily said, stepping into the waiting car. She turned back once, catching a glimpse of him standing on the porch, his hands in his pockets, his head slightly bowed. As the car pulled away, Emily felt a pang of regret. She hated seeing him like that – unsure of himself, hurt. But the image of the nursery lingered in her mind, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had revealed something about Ben she wasn’t ready to face. Chestnut Grove faded into the distance as the Uber drove on, leaving behind the warmth of the small town and the connection she’d felt. Emily leaned her head against the window, telling herself it was better this way. But it still felt off, despite her intention to leave again in a couple days. She had instead said goodbye to him then. Drastically different in some indiscernible if you scrutinize it for a moment way. Chapter 13: Frustration and Fear By the time Emily’s Uber pulled into her family’s driveway, her mood had shifted from confusion to frustration. She replayed the events of the morning over and over in her mind – the beautiful moments she’d shared with Ben, shattered by the discovery of the nursery and everything it implied. It was all too much. She’d let herself entertain a fantasy, and now she felt foolish for those twenty seconds she’d spent indulging in the idea of staying in Chestnut Grove. Now she was walking into her childhood home after having spent the night with a man, and while she didn’t expect any judgment for it, she was primed for a hint of I-told-you-so from Chloe and a massive dose of Make-me-grandbabies from her mom. Chloe was sprawled on the couch scrolling through her phone when Emily walked in. “Whoa,” she said, sitting up. “Who rained on your Christmas parade?” “No one,” Emily snapped, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on the rack with more force than necessary. “Uh-huh,” Chloe said, tilting her head. “You want to talk about it?” Whatever it was, she was already convinced it was Emily’s fault. Love interests are never flawed; protagonists are nothing but flaws. And sisters of protagonists are always right. It is known. “No,” Emily replied curtly, brushing past her sister toward the kitchen. Her mom was there, humming a Christmas carol as she kneaded dough on the counter. She looked up as Emily entered, her hands dusted with flour. “Emily! You’re back. Did you have a nice time?” Emily grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured herself water. “It was fine.” Her mom wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the counter, her expression soft with concern. “You seem a little tense. Something on your mind?” She hoped not; it wouldn’t be very Christmassy to have something on her mind. “Nothing,” Emily said, her tone clipped. “I’m just tired.” Her mom nodded thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully. “If there’s anything you want to talk about – ” “There’s nothing to talk about,” Emily interrupted, setting her glass down with a thud. “Not everything needs to be a big conversation.” Her mom’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t push. “All right. But you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed. The holidays can bring up a lot.” Emily clenched her jaw, her mood spiraling further. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Andrea: Are you free to hang out? Andrea’s reply came a minute later: Swamped with the kids. Rain check? Emily sighed, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. Her mom was watching her, still wearing that concerned expression. “You’ve been working so hard, Emmy. Maybe you need to give yourself a little grace.” Emily bristled. “Mom, I said I’m fine.” She had nothing to do at home all day until midnight mass and knew she could only nap and avoid her mom so much. She needed to get out of there. Before her mom could reply, Emily’s phone buzzed again. She pulled it out, relieved to see Ben’s name on the screen, which made no sense at all under the circumstances but hey why not if it moves the plot forward. “I need to take this,” she said quickly, heading out of the kitchen before her mom could say anything else. Ben’s voice was warm on the other end of the line. “Hey, Emily.” “Hey,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab yet more cocoa tonight,” he said. “There’s a café on Main Street that’s great.” Emily hesitated. The thought of seeing him made her stomach twist, but staying home sounded even worse. “Sure,” she said finally. “What time?” The café was a picture-perfect slice of small-town charm, its windows fogged with warmth against the snowy street. Emily stood outside, arms crossed against the cold, staring at the cozy glow from inside. She already regretted agreeing to meet Ben. Why am I even here? she thought, glancing down the street. She could just leave – text him, tell him she wasn’t feeling well – but she hated the idea of going home and facing her mom’s questions. Ben arrived a few minutes later, his smile broad and genuine. “Hey,” he said, his breath visible in the cold. “Sorry I’m late. The shelter ran longer than I thought. A Saint Bernard brought in a small Saint Bernard that got lost on the mountain.” “It’s fine,” Emily said, forcing a polite smile. “You look great,” he added, his tone sincere. “Thanks,” she replied, her tone polite but distant. “Shall we?” They stepped inside and found a table near the window. The café was buzzing with cheerful energy, the smell of coffee and cinnamon filling the air. Ben pulled out her chair, and she mumbled a thank you as she sat. Ben started the conversation lightly, asking about her day and her plans for Christmas Eve. He told a story about Jasper at the shelter that would have made her laugh on any other day, but she nodded along without much enthusiasm. Finally, he leaned forward, his expression soft but serious. “Emily, is something wrong?” She froze, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. For a moment, she considered telling him about the nursery, about everything she’d seen and felt. But the words stuck in her throat, and instead, she shook her head. “No, it’s nothing.” “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said gently. She sighed, the tension in her chest bubbling over. “It’s my mom. The holiday. Going back to Really Big City.” Ben tilted his head, studying her carefully. “What about going back?” Emily hesitated, then said, “Everything. I don’t have any close friends there. I haven’t been on a date in forever. And my job...” Her voice hardened as she continued. “God, my job is the worst.” Ben stayed quiet, letting her speak. “They don’t care about the products or the people who use them,” she said, her voice gaining momentum. “They just want to churn out the same boring designs over and over again. And my coworkers – none of them care either. It’s like... why am I even there? I’m trying to make something meaningful, and no one gives a damn.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “And the designs. They’re awful. Just sterile, clinical-looking garbage that probably makes people feel worse about themselves. It’s like they don’t even think about how these products make people feel.” Ben nodded slowly. “That sounds... exhausting.” “It is,” Emily said, deflating slightly. “It’s like everything I care about doesn’t matter. No one cares what I do or why I do it.” Ben watched her carefully, then said softly, “So why don’t you leave?” Emily blinked, caught off guard, because Ben was only the fifth person since her arrival back home so the comment was really out of left field … somehow. “What?” See? So out of left field. “Why don’t you find a new job somewhere new?” he asked. “Somewhere that cares about what you care about?” Emily shook her head. “It’s not that simple. I’ve built a life in Really Big City. I can’t just... leave.” Which was her first thought because surely Really Big City, that global center of commerce, couldn’t have more than the one company in need of a graphic designer. “Okay,” Ben said, his tone still calm. “What about starting your own business? You could design exactly what you want, work with people who share your vision.” Emily scoffed. “Do you know how hard it is to start a business? Especially in my field?” Ben nodded. “I do. But it’s not impossible.” “It might as well be,” she muttered, crossing her arms. Ben leaned forward. “Emily, I’m not saying it would be easy. But it sounds like you’re miserable where you are. Isn’t it worth considering?” “It’s not that simple,” she snapped, her frustration rising. “I can’t just throw everything away.” Ben held her gaze, his voice gentle but firm. “It sounds like you’re scared to take a risk.” The words hit her like a punch to the chest, the truth of them ringing painfully in her ears. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She just stared at him, her frustration mounting as his calm, patient expression stayed steady. The silence between them stretched heavy. Chapter 14: Breaking Points The café’s warmth did nothing to thaw the tension at the table. Emily’s cocoa sat untouched as she stared at the steam curling from the mug, trying to push back the tangled mess of emotions she felt. Ben’s words – calm, understanding, and perceptive – had hit a nerve she didn’t want to examine too closely. When she finally spoke, her voice was sharp and cutting. “You want to talk about being scared? Let’s talk about you.” Ben blinked, taken aback. “Me?” “Yeah,” Emily said, sitting up straighter, her frustration spilling over. “You act like you’ve got everything figured out, like you’re so good at helping everyone else. But you’re terrified, Ben. You’re scared to let anyone really know you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben said, his voice cautious. “Oh, come on,” Emily said, leaning forward. “I saw it.” Ben’s brow furrowed. “Saw what?” “The nursery,” she said bluntly, watching his face go pale. “I took a wrong turn in your house and found your secret.” Ben froze, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. His face flushed, and his eyes darted around the café as if he expected someone to overhear. “I – I didn’t – ” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Emily, I never meant – ” “You didn’t mean what?” she asked. “You didn’t mean for me to see it? You didn’t mean to let me think your diapers were a medical thing?” His hands gripped the edge of the table. “I didn’t lie to you.” “You didn’t tell me,” Emily shot back. “You let me believe it. That’s the same as lying.” Ben swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “You drew your own conclusions.” Emily sat back, her arms crossed. “Right. Because it was easier for you to let me think you had no choice than to admit the truth. Because you’re scared. And another thing – what you did was not Christmassy.” She regretted that unnecessary twisting of the knife, but the words had already left her mouth. Ben’s shoulders slumped, the confidence she’d admired in him crumbling. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said softly. For surely after one date he had an ethical responsibility to bare his soul, because, yep, that’s a thing. “I thought you’d...” “Judge you?” she interrupted. “I don’t. I don’t care about the nursery or that you’re an adult baby. That’s not what this is about.” Ben looked up at her, his expression filled with a mix of hurt and confusion. “I don’t care about any of it,” she continued, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t judge you. I had a good time, but that’s all it was. A good time” The words hit Ben like a physical blow, his eyes widening slightly before he looked away. Emily pressed on, her frustration propelling her forward. “If either of us thought – even deep down – that this could’ve been anything more than a one-night stand, we were fooling ourselves. You’re you, and I’m me, and this was never going to work. . I’ve been pretty clear since I got off the train I’m not staying in Chestnut Grove. I don’t know even why we’re both being so dramatic like it was anything other than a one night stand and we’re both somehow surprised by that. Must be all the poinsettias or something.” Ben’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles white. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend himself. He didn’t defend poinsettias. He simply sat there, his expression defeated, as her words hung in the air like dead, withered mistletoe. The silence stretched painfully between them, the cheerful chatter of the café around them a stark contrast to the tension at their table. Emily sighed, her anger fading into a dull ache. “I’m sorry,” she said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t apologizing for what she’d said. “I’ll keep your secret. You don’t have to worry about that.” Ben nodded mutely, his eyes still downcast. “I’m going back to Really Big City tomorrow,” she added, her voice softening slightly. “As soon as we’re done opening presents.” Ben glanced up at her, his eyes searching hers for something – an explanation, a plea, a hint of regret – but found nothing. “Take care of yourself, Ben,” she said, standing and pulling on her coat. “I mean that. I wish you a happy life.” Ben opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his silence heavy and resigned. Emily hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked out of the café. The cold air stung her face, but she didn’t stop to wrap her scarf tighter. She needed to keep moving, to get away from the warmth and intimacy of the café that now felt suffocating. As she walked down Main Street, past the twinkling Christmas lights and festive window displays, she felt a hollow ache settle in her chest. She told herself it was for the best, that there had never been a real chance for her and Ben. But as she turned the corner toward home, the ache didn’t ease. If anything, it grew heavier with each step. Or maybe that was Christmas snow clinging to her stylish yet affordable boots. Chapter 15: A Long, Dark Winter The house felt unusually quiet as Emily walked through the door. Her family’s chatter had quieted to a low hum as the day wore on, but Emily’s stormy demeanor made her the focus of sidelong glances from her mom and sisters. Only her dad seemed oblivious, happily munching on Christmas cookies in front of the TV. Emily shrugged off her coat and hung it by the door, avoiding Chloe’s questioning look. She could feel her sister’s curiosity as she sat down at the kitchen table, nursing a glass of water she didn’t really want, for even hydration had lost its charms. “You’ve been in a mood all day,” Chloe said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Care to share what’s going on?” “There’s nothing to share,” Emily said, swirling the water in her glass. “It’s just... being back here. It’s been weird, that’s all.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Weird how? You were fine yesterday. What changed?” Chloe might’ve suspected it had something to do with spending the night with a virtual stranger, but nope. “Nothing changed,” Emily replied quickly. Too quickly. “It’s just... this place. It reminds me of all the reasons I left. The small-town gossip, the expectations, the way everyone knows everyone’s business. I can’t wait to get back to Really Big City.” Chloe leaned back, crossing her arms. “And what’s waiting for you in Really Big City? You’ve been miserable there for years.” Emily bristled. “I’m not miserable.” Chloe gave her a look, clearly unconvinced. “Right.” Their mom entered the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She gave Emily a sympathetic look as she sat down. “You’ve seemed a little down today, sweetheart. Is there something on your mind?” “No,” Emily said, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Really.” “You don’t seem fine,” her mom said gently. “Is it something to do with Ben?” Emily stiffened. “No. Ben and I... it’s nothing.” Her mom’s brow furrowed, but before she could say more, her dad popped his head into the kitchen. “Hey, are we going to midnight mass or what? Don’t want to miss the good seats.” “Coming, dear,” her mom said, standing. She gave Emily one last lingering look before heading to get ready. Chloe didn’t move. She stayed seated, watching Emily with an intensity that made her squirm. “You’re not fine,” she said quietly. “But okay. Keep it to yourself if you want.” Emily looked away, guilt prickling at her. But she didn’t say anything. The church was warm and packed, the air heavy with the scent of pine and too many mingling perfumes and colognes. Emily sat with her family, her hands folded in her lap. The choir had already started, their harmonies filling the space with a festive joy that felt at odds with the hollow ache in her chest where Christmas should be. She didn’t notice Ben at first, but when he stepped forward to solo, her heart gave a painful lurch. His voice was beautiful, resonant and clear, but there was a sadness in his tone. The song he sang was joyous, but the way he delivered it felt weighted, as though he were carrying something he couldn’t let go of. Emily’s mom leaned over and whispered, “Doesn’t he sound sad tonight?” Emily nodded mutely, her eyes fixed on Ben. He avoided looking in her direction, though she felt certain he must know she was there. She dropped her gaze, focusing instead on the hymnbook in her lap. The sermon that followed was about home and family, about the importance of togetherness to weather life’s winters. The pastor spoke of warmth and connection, of finding strength in those who love you. Emily swallowed hard, feeling the words cut a little too close to the bone. After the service, the congregation spilled out into the snowy night. The air was crisp and cold, and the snowflakes fell softly, blanketing the street in white. People mingled on the steps, exchanging warm wishes and sharing laughter. It was the kind of picturesque scene Emily would have found charming were any other town than Chestnut Grove. She spotted Ben standing near the choir, his hands shoved into his coat pockets as he spoke with someone. For a brief moment, she considered walking over to him. She could explain her outburst, apologize properly, try to salvage... whatever this was. But then she saw her. Meghan Sanderson, her hair perfectly styled and her coat impossibly chic, stood close to Ben, laughing at something he’d said. He didn’t look particularly happy, but he wasn’t stepping away, either. The sight of them together made Emily’s stomach twist. Of course he’s talking to her, she thought bitterly. Why wouldn’t he? She turned away, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Whatever fleeting impulse she’d had to approach him evaporated. She told herself it was better this way. Ben deserved someone who could understand him, someone who belonged in this small town. Someone who wasn’t her. As she walked back to her family, she felt the weight of finality settle over her. She would leave in the morning, return to Really Big City, and put this whole trip behind her. It was the only thing that made sense. The snow fell softly around her, muffling the sounds of the town. She felt completely alone, made worse by the sense it was her own fault. Chapter 16: The Train to Nowhere Christmas morning was a blur. The house was filled with the usual chaos of wrapping paper being torn open, excited exclamations from Chloe and Lisa’s kids, and the clatter of coffee cups and plates of pastries being passed around. Emily had participated, smiling and laughing at the right moments, but her heart wasn’t in it. Now, she was alone in her childhood bedroom, packing her small suitcase. Her presents – a warm scarf from Chloe, a journal from her mom, and a beautifully hand-carved jewelry box from her dad – were neatly tucked alongside the few clothes she’d brought. She zipped the bag shut, her movements brisk and mechanical. Her train back to Really Big City left at 11:50 a.m., and she intended to be on it. She didn’t feel relief at the thought of returning, though – just a resigned sense of inevitability. She wasn’t happy here, but she wouldn’t be happy in Really Big City either. That much felt certain. A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts. “Emily?” her mom’s voice called gently. “Can I come in?” Emily hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah, sure.” Her mom entered, closing the door quietly behind her. She had a mug of tea in her hands, which she set down on the desk before sitting on the edge of Emily’s bed. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just looked at Emily with a kind, thoughtful expression. “I know you’re leaving soon,” her mom said finally, her voice soft. “But I wanted to talk to you before you go.” Emily sighed, crossing her arms. “If this is about me staying longer…” “It’s not,” her mom interrupted, surprising her. “I’m not going to ask you to stay. I know you’ve got a life in Really Big City, and I respect that.” Emily blinked, caught off guard by her mom’s tone. It wasn’t pushy or insistent – just calm and understanding. Her mom continued, “I just wanted to say... it’s okay to come home.” Emily frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” her mom said, folding her hands in her lap, “it’s okay to feel like you don’t have it all figured out. To feel stuck or scared or like you’ve taken the wrong path. And it’s okay to come home when you feel that way. It’s okay to start over.” Emily looked away, her chest tightening. “I’m not starting over. I’m 25. I’ve worked too hard to get one notch above entry-level.” “I know you have,” her mom said gently. “But working hard doesn’t mean you can’t change direction. Sometimes starting over doesn’t mean throwing everything away. It just means choosing a different way forward.” Emily stayed silent, staring at the suitcase on her bed. Her mom took a deep breath, then added, “Chloe said you seemed so happy that first night you were home. She said it was like you finally relaxed for the first time in years.” Emily shook her head. “That’s just Chloe exaggerating.” “I don’t think it is,” her mom said softly. “You’ve always been so driven, Emmy. You’ve always wanted to do something meaningful, to help people. But if where you are now isn’t making you happy – if it’s not giving you the chance to follow your dreams – then maybe it’s time to rethink things.” Emily glanced at her mom, the knot in her chest tightening further. “It’s not that simple, Mom.” Her mom smiled faintly. “I know it’s not. But whatever’s bothering you about being here, or about Really Big City, or about life in general – it’s fixable. I know you don’t believe that right now, but it is.” Emily pressed her lips together, her eyes burning. “What if it’s not? What if I just keep making mistakes and end up miserable no matter what I do?” Her mom reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “Then you try again. And again. Because happiness isn’t a straight line, Emmy. It’s a path with a lot of detours. But the important thing is to keep going, to keep looking for the things and the people that bring you joy.” Emily swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I don’t know where to start.” “You don’t have to figure it all out today,” her mom said. “Just take one step at a time. And remember, you’ve got options. You’ve got so many paths to happiness, wherever you go.” For a long moment, Emily didn’t say anything. She felt something stir in her chest – something warm and comforting – but she shoved it down. She couldn’t let herself give in to the hope her mom’s words inspired. It was easier to be fatalistic, to believe that nothing would change, no matter what she did. “Thanks, Mom,” she said finally, her voice quiet. Her mom smiled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze before standing. “I’ll let you finish packing. But remember – whatever happens, you’ve got a family who loves you and believes in you.” Emily nodded, watching as her mom left the room. She felt a pang of guilt for brushing her off, but she couldn’t bring herself to say more. The train station was quiet when Emily arrived, the snow falling in soft, lazy flakes. She stood on the platform with her suitcase at her side, her breath visible in the cold air. The platform was nearly empty, save for a few other passengers waiting for the same train. She thought about her mom’s words, about the warmth in her voice and the genuine care in her eyes. For the first time in hours, Emily had felt truly seen, truly understood. But that warmth only made her decision to leave feel heavier. It was too late to change things now. She’d already packed, already booked her ticket. The train’s whistle echoed in the distance, signaling its approach. Emily took a deep breath, bracing herself. She was going back to Really Big City, to her job, to her empty apartment, to the life she had built – even if it no longer felt like hers. A fleeting thought crossed her mind – this all-or-nothing thinking and resignation to misery could be symptoms of bipolar disorder. But that thought was soon replaced by another – Santa lives at the North Pole even when it’s not Christmas, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. The train pulled into the station, its doors hissing open. Steam, so much steam, especially for a train that doesn’t run on steam. Emily picked up her suitcase and stepped aboard, her heart heavy with doubt and longing. She found her seat by the window and watched as the town she’d grown up in faded into the snowy distance. She told herself it was better this way. She told herself she was doing the right thing. But as the train rumbled toward Really Big City, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d left something important behind. Family, friends, Ben, Christmas, for she was already thinking of New Year’s. Chapter 17: Doodles and Dreams The familiar hum of the city surrounded Emily as she sat in her tiny Really Big City apartment. The radiator clanged in protest, barely managing to keep the winter chill at bay. Outside her window, the streetlights cast a dull orange glow onto the slush-covered pavement below. She curled up on her worn-out couch, a glass of red wine balanced precariously on the armrest beside her. The apartment felt smaller than ever, its walls seeming to close in around her. She’d missed it when she was home in Chestnut Grove – or at least she’d told herself she had. Now, back in the space she’d worked so hard to claim, it felt like a Pyric prize. She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the dark liquid cling to the sides before taking a sip. The bitterness on her tongue mirrored the heaviness in her chest, mentioned now so many times one must wonder if there’s something wrong with her cardiovascular system. She’d made her choice – come back to Really Big City, stick with the life she’d built – but it didn’t feel like a choice at all. Staying in Chestnut Grove had never been an option. She wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. Was she? No. Or … was she? Her thoughts turned to her family, to her mom’s speech that morning, and to the train ride back. And then, inevitably, to Ben. She groaned, setting the glass down on the coffee table and rubbing her temples. She didn’t want to think about him. About his warmth, his kindness, the way he’d listened to her rant about her job without judgment. The way he’d looked at her that night in his workshop, like he saw her in a way no one else had before. “Stop,” she muttered to herself, standing abruptly. She needed a distraction. Something, anything, to pull her out of this spiral. Her eyes landed on her old sketchpad, tucked into the corner of the bookshelf. She hadn’t touched it in months, but now, without really thinking about it, she grabbed it and settled back onto the couch. She flipped through the pages, smiling faintly at the old sketches of cityscapes, fashion designs, and abstract doodles. The clean white page of a blank sheet stared back at her, inviting her to start fresh. At first, her pencil moved aimlessly. She doodled a few swirls and shapes, letting her mind wander. But gradually, the shapes began to take form. She found herself sketching diapers – not the dull, clinical designs she was used to at work, but something different. Her hand moved faster, sketching bold lines and playful patterns. One diaper had bright polka dots and a cheerful bow tie design. Another was sleek and understated, with soft pastels and subtle detailing that felt dignified. She drew one with a lacy edge, something flirty and bold, then followed it with another featuring elegant floral patterns that looked more like lingerie. She flipped to a fresh page, her movements becoming more confident. A diaper with a galaxy print emerged, dark blues and purples blending into starbursts of white. Another with art deco detailing, geometric shapes adding a touch of sophistication. Her designs reflected a freedom she’d never felt at work – a sense of fun and creativity that made her heart race. And then, without realizing it, she began to draw a figure wearing one of her designs. The lines of the body were quick at first, loose and sketchy, but as she added details, the figure began to take shape. Broad shoulders. A strong jawline. Messy hair that seemed to fall just so. Her pencil paused, hovering over the page as recognition struck. It was Ben. She swallowed hard but didn’t stop. She kept drawing, her hand moving with a mind of its own. She drew him standing confidently, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing the galaxy-print diaper she’d just designed. Another sketch showed him sitting casually in a chair, his expression thoughtful, wearing the dignified pastel design. She flipped to another page, the wine forgotten on the table beside her. In this sketch, he was smiling, his warmth radiating off the page as he modeled a playful polka-dot diaper. She added details to his face – the gentle curve of his lips, the soft lines around his eyes that hinted at his kindness. The next sketch was more intimate. Ben reclined on a plush chair, wearing the lacy, flirtatious design. His expression was vulnerable, almost shy, but his posture was relaxed. She added shading to the fabric, giving the sketch depth and texture. Page after page filled with Ben’s likeness, each one wearing a different design. She drew him laughing, his head tilted back as though someone had just told a joke. She drew him looking contemplative, his gaze distant as though lost in thought. She drew him holding Jasper, the dog’s cheerful energy a contrast to the soft elegance of the diaper he wore. By the time she reached the end of the pad, her hand was cramped and her eyes heavy. The table before her was covered with loose sketches – some polished, some rough, all of them undeniably hers for she was the only one there. And all of them undeniably Ben. She stared at the drawings, her chest tightening. She’d started the evening feeling aimless and disconnected, but now her heart felt full. Full of ideas. Full of longing. Full of regret. The pencil slipped from her hand, and she leaned back in her chair, exhaustion washing over her. Before she knew it, her head rested on the edge of the table, her eyes fluttering shut. The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was the image of Ben smiling up at her from the page, wearing her favorite design. Chapter 18: The Mistake The harsh light of the morning made Emily squint as she woke up. Her neck ached from the awkward angle she had fallen asleep at, hunched over her desk. Her head was heavy with the weight of her regret. She blinked, still half-groggy, and stared down at the open page in front of her. She had stayed up drawing until her eyes refused to stay open anymore. The designs had taken over her thoughts – diaper designs, yes, but also images of Ben, sitting comfortably in them. She didn't know why she'd been so harsh with him. He had been nothing but kind to her, even when she was at her worst, which was pretty much constantly. And now he was gone. She had left, she'd made her decision, and now she was regretting it. Every word she'd said to him, every sharp edge in her tone when she accused him, felt like a blow to her heart now. He didn’t deserve any of it. She couldn't leave it like this. With sudden resolve, Emily gathered her things: her sketchbook, her impeccably tailored camel-colored cashmere coat, her scarlet red cashmere scarf, and her cream-colored cashmere beanie. She wasn’t going to leave things unresolved. She was going to fix it and look cozy doing it, dammit! Every minute of the train ride seemed to stretch forever. She couldn’t get the image of Ben out of her head. What was he doing now? Was he still at home, still stewing over what she’d said, or had he gotten over it? Either way, she wasn’t about to let it go. She needed to see him. She had to apologize, tell him she was sorry for how she’d treated him and hope against hope it wasn’t too late. When she arrived in Chestnut Grove, her heart raced. The cab driver, recognizing the unhinged look of a woman trying salvage the rest of her life through a single gesture of true love, turned in his seat and said, “I know a women trying to salvage the rest of her life through a single gesture of true love when I see one!” and raced to Ben’s house. The cab hadn’t come to a stop when Emma leapt out in his driveway. She wasn’t going to wait. She knocked repeatedly on the door, calling his name. “Ben! Ben, please!” But the house was silent. No answer. She hesitated, but then turned on her heel, her breath coming in quick bursts as she hurried to the workshop. She knocked on the door there too, but again, silence. No Ben. Emily’s anxiety grew. She ran back into town, trying every place she could think of. The animal shelter. The library. The little corner store. No Ben. She rushed next to the café where she’d spurned him merely two days ago. Perhaps he was tucked into the corner reading Dickens. Perhaps he was seated at the counter, drinking his fourth cocoa, heedless of the waitress’s urging to switch to warm milk, lovelorn and pining. But no Ben. Just as she was about to give up for an hour, give-or-take, and try his house again – for that it where Ben lived – she saw through the snow-flecked windows of the café a familiar silhouette. Ben. He was on the driver's seat of an old-fashioned, intricately carved sleigh pulled by reindeer. Ben had filled the sleigh he built himself with much-need groceries, for nourishing the body and baskets of homemade cakes, pies, and candies for nourishing the soul, and harnessed up the team of reindeer he had raised himself from the moment they hatched. He was headed for the homes of Chestnut Grove’s most vulnerable. His home-distilled absinthe kept the philosophy majors philosophizing, and his plant-based protein saw more than one vegan, ill-suited to the New England winter, alive ‘til the first thaw. Emily’s heart swelled, her guilt deepening. She had seen this side of him before – the way he quietly helped, the way he gave back without a second thought. It was who he was. The thought of how cruel she had been to him made her stomach turn. She rushed to the door to dash down Main Street to reach him, but the door flew open just as her hand reached it. Meghan, the mean girl from high school, filled the doorway, except not entirely because she was unfairly slender. Emily stopped short, and Meghan sneered. “Well, if it isn’t the I’ll-never-come-back-to...” Meghan began, a cruel smirk on her face. Emily didn’t even give her a chance to finish, bowling her over. "You'll always be a cunt, Meghan!" she threw over her shoulder. Maybe not as incisive as what Andrea would’ve said, but Andrea would be proud when she heard – as surely the news would get around the small town – that someone had finally fucking said it. Emily ran down the snowy street, calling out Ben’s name, her voice cutting through the chill air. “Ben! Ben, wait!” But the sound of her voice was drowned out by the sleighbells. The sleigh kept moving further down the street, the reindeer trotting slowly ahead, and Ben’s back remained turned to her. She called his name louder, her feet slipping in the snow as she tried to hurry. “Ben! Ben, it’s me! Please, wait!” Suddenly, Ben heard her. He turned, just in time to see Emily lose her footing. She slipped on the snow, her arms flailing for a moment before she landed softly in a deep bank of snow. Ben was off the sleigh and fishing Emily out of the snow in a flash. In her own scramble, she pulled Ben off his feet, and he fell next to her, face to face. Emily was too overcome to be embarrassed. Words of apology tumbled out of her faster than the snow swirling around them. Chapter 19: That Could Be Us She wasn’t even sure if she was making sense. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have – shouldn’t have said what I did – shouldn’t have left – shouldn’t have – ” Ben brushed snow off her shoulders in a quiet, methodical way, as though her words weren’t tumbling out faster than the swirling flakes around them. He had prepared himself to be polite but distant if he ever saw her again, unwilling to risk reopening the wound she had left. But now, as her voice trembled and broke with longing, and her eyes shone with something desperate and raw, he couldn’t help but soften. He always was a sucker for an absolute nutcase. His lips turned, almost involuntarily, into a small, warm smile. “Emily,” he said softly, breaking through her torrent of words. His hands settled gently on her shoulders, giving her a grounding shake. “Emily.” Her words trailed off as her gaze lifted to meet his. She saw his smile – tentative, kind, and unexpected – and her heart stuttered. Embarrassment prickled at her, but she found herself smiling back, a sheepish, almost apologetic grin. “You have snow on you,” she said, brushing at the flakes on his coat. They both let out a single, amused chuckle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break the tension in the air between them. “What on earth...” Ben started to say, his voice tinged with disbelief. Emily cut him off, more composed now but still unable to meet his eyes. “I had to come back,” she said, her voice quieter but resolute. “And tell you you were right. And I’m sorry.” Ben stilled, watching her with a mix of curiosity and something deeper – hope. “What do you mean?” he asked. Emily took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly. “You were right about everything. About me being unhappy. About me being afraid to take risks and follow my dreams. I got mad at you because you saw right through me. And I hated that you were right.” Ben’s expression softened further, but he didn’t interrupt. Of course he saw right through her, Ben, the most understanding and perceptive bachelor in New England. “I told myself I had no choice but to go back to Really Big City,” Emily continued, her voice shaking. “Because I was scared. Scared of staying here. Scared of letting this place – and you – pull me back in. I didn’t want to be known as the girl who couldn’t make it in Really Big City.” Her words hung in the air, her breath visible as it escaped her lips. Ben waited, giving her the space to speak at her own pace. “And I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking slightly, “for the way I reacted to... your nursery. You weren’t dishonest with me. I got mad because I needed an excuse – not for you, but for myself. An excuse to run away, to not let myself feel anything for you.” Ben hesitated, his heart pounding. “Did it work?” he asked gently. “No feelings for me at all?” Emily flushed, her cheeks burning despite the cold. She pulled her sketchbook from her coat pocket and flipped it open. “I started drawing last night,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Diapers. The kind I’ve always wanted to design.” Ben blinked as she held the book out to him. He took it carefully, his eyes widening as he flipped through the pages. Each sketch was more detailed than the last – colorful, playful, dignified, even elegant. Even sexy. The designs were like nothing he’d ever seen before, reflecting Emily’s passion in every drawn line. “They’re amazing,” he murmured, but Emily wasn’t done. She leaned closer, turning to another page. “I kept drawing,” she said. “And then... this happened.” The page she pointed to showed a model wearing her designs. At first, the figure was nondescript, but as the sketches progressed, the model began to take on familiar features – Ben’s features. Ben’s breath caught as he stared at the pages. His hair. His jawline. His shoulders. His likeness was unmistakable. He flipped through slowly, taking in each sketch, until Emily hesitated and placed a hand on the book to stop him. “And then, on the train,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I drew this.” She flipped to the final page and turned the book toward him. Ben stared at the drawing, his heart pounding. It was a scene set in his nursery. Benny – his little side – sat on the colorful play mat, dressed in babyish pajamas with toys scattered around him. Emily knelt beside him in the drawing, helping him play and holding a fresh diaper. “That could be us,” Emily said softly, her voice trembling with vulnerability. Ben was speechless. He stared at the sketch, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing and hearing. He swallowed hard, his voice shaky as he finally asked, “You mean it? You really don’t mind that I’m... that I’m a little?” Emily met his gaze, her own eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I even like it. I see it as... as an extension of you. It proves you’re not the superhuman everyone thinks you are. The sweet, kind man who takes care of everyone and everything around him... he’s also a sweet, kind little boy who needs someone to take care of him. I can be that someone. If you still want me after the way I’ve behaved and are prepared to make a the biggest life choice there is on the basis of a single date.” Ben let out a shaky laugh, his hands trembling as he closed the sketchbook and held it to her chest. “I do,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I want you even if you don’t want to be my mommy. I want just want you, Emily. Every part of you.” “I want every part of you too,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ve always loved diapers – not in the same way you do, but in my own way. It must be fate.” They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them quite able to believe the way they were talking, as though they’d spend the rest of their lives together. It was reckless. It was absurd. They’d spent a single night together. But it felt right. “You told me to take risks,” Emily said, her voice breaking into a nervous laugh. Ben smiled, his eyes shining with tears. “I’ve loved you for years,” he confessed. “I was just too scared of rejection to ever make my move. I… I waited for you. I just knew.” “Fate,” she repeated. All but embracing, each holding the other’s hands in their own, “Emily,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Benny. Yes.” It was the first time she’d called him Benny, and the sound of it made his heart swell. To everyone else he could be Ben, but to her he could be Benny. Baby Benny. He pulled her into his arms. The snow swirled around them as they kissed, their laughter breaking the stillness of the winter air. Ben helped her into the sleigh, and together, they delivered his baskets of goodies to the senior citizens and philosophy majors of Chestnut Grove, announcing their engagement at every stop, including her childhood home. Her mother at once became a new woman, having already been visited recently by three ghosts who convinced her to chill the fuck out. By the time the sleigh returned to Ben’s house, Emily’s heart was full, her doubts and fears melted away. For the first time in years, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be – unharnessing reindeer. Epilogue: Happily Ever After, Chestnut Grove Style Emily stood at her tiny apartment window. On her desk behind her was her resignation letter, scribbled in Sharpie on the back of one of the company’s own terrible adult diapers, thoroughly used by Benny, who was now using his strong forearms and muscled back to pack her apartment. She smirked as she thought of her boss’s reaction. She could already picture him holding the diaper at arm’s length, his face a mix of confusion and disgust. “I’m sorry, but I’m done making clinical-looking misery – and I’m not really sorry,” she muttered, practicing her one-liner for dramatic effect. Then she laughed to herself and turned back to the apartment, grabbing the diaper and stuffing it into an envelope. It was time to move on. By that afternoon, Emily was pulling up to Ben’s house in Chestnut Grove, his car loaded with what little she’d decided to keep. Jasper met them at the door and nuzzled her leg and wagged his tail like they’d known each other forever. “I think he likes you,” Ben said, laughing as Jasper plopped down at her feet. “I think so too,” Emily said, kneeling to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Smart dog.” “You’re home,” Ben said softly, and when she stood, he pulled her into a warm hug. Emily melted into his arms, the weight of her old life falling away. Chestnut Grove wasn’t just a place anymore – it was her place. Their place. The transition was easier than Emily had imagined. Living with Ben felt natural, and within weeks, she felt like she’d always belonged in his cozy house at the edge of town. Jasper followed her everywhere, always eager to play or cuddle. And as for Ben, he was the sweetest, most attentive partner she could have ever asked for. But Emily wasn’t content to simply settle into domestic bliss. She had plans – big ones. Sitting at the dining table one evening, rough-hewn from two-hundred-year-old oaks Ben grew from organic, cruelty-free acorns, she flipped through her sketchbook, showing Ben her latest designs. “They’re perfect,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “I think the world needs these.” Emily smiled. “I’m thinking... an adult diaper boutique. Small, local, but stylish. Main Street could use some color, don’t you think?” Ben nodded. “And you’d be the one to bring it.” It didn’t take long for her vision to become a reality. With Ben’s support – emotional and financial – Emily opened her boutique just three hours later. The storefront was a splash of vibrancy on Main Street, its window displays featuring colorful disposable diapers, elegant cloth diapers, and accessories like onesies and footed pajamas. Word spread quickly, and soon Emily had customers coming from all over New England. Emily turned down the chance to build a multi-trillion-dollar diaper empire, choosing instead the personal touch and small-town pace of a mom-and-pop store that did several hundred million in annual revenue while allowing her to work just one hour a day. Her only employee was her sister Chloe, who immediately fell in love with the business. Chloe’s enthusiasm was infectious, and her creative eye proved invaluable in curating the boutique’s offerings. Emily often joked that it was proof she’d been right all along – there was a market for adult diapers that were cute, playful, elegant, and even sexy. And with Ben as her model and muse, the boutique’s marketing was unbeatable. His photos adorned the website and social media, and no one in town was surprised to see him smiling in a diaper, because of course he was the world’s most supportive partner. It would’ve been out of character for him to not to model hier designs. No one suspected a thing. But behind the scenes, Ben’s little fantasies were coming true in ways he’d never dreamed possible. Emily was the perfect mommy, balancing tenderness with firm guidance. Their private life remained secret in Chestnut Grove, though not from Emily’s family. It happened one quiet afternoon in the boutique. Emily was in the back room with Ben, changing his poopy diaper while he sucked contentedly on his pacifier, his bottom red from a spanking he got for being mommy’s bestest boy. The doorbell jingled, and Emily’s mom walked in, calling out a cheerful, “Hello!” Emily’s hands didn’t falter, and Ben’s pacifier never stopped bobbing, so confident were they that her mother would embrace her future son-in-law no matter what. And they were right. Her mother smiled down at the tender scene, watching her daughter wipe Baby Benny’s tushy. Any thought he might have a medical condition was belied by his paci and his pink bumbum where mommy’s handprint still lingering. Emily’s mom sat down next to Benny and jingled her car keys, cooing, “Who’s being such a good boy holding still? Benny is!” As it turned out, Chloe had known about Ben’s lifestyle from the moment she started working at the boutique. Far from being scandalized, she embraced the ABDL world with open arms, becoming a proud and out diaper model for the boutique. She and Benny became close friends and playmates, often playing together in his nursery. And when Chloe eventually found a mommy of her own to marry, Ben was the first to congratulate her. Emily’s mom even started babysitting Benny from time to time. Her dad, ever the clueless but loving patriarch, remained cheerfully oblivious to the nuances of their lives. He was content to crack dad jokes and enjoy the happiness radiating from his family. Emily’s older sister, busy with her growing family, was simply glad to see Emily thriving. And Andrea, as sassy as ever, occasionally stepped in as Benny’s and Chloe’s babysitter, always with a witty remark at the ready. Meghan Sanderson and her two shadows fell through the ice on a frozen lake. The bodies were never recovered. Life in Chestnut Grove settled into a rhythm of joy and contentment. Emily’s boutique flourished, her family grew closer, and Ben found peace and fulfillment in being completely himself. Together, they built a life filled with love, laughter, and a sense of belonging that neither had ever thought possible. As they sat on the porch one warm summer evening, after a solid day’s work decorating Main Street for Christmas 2.0, Jasper dozing at their feet, Ben turned to Emily and took her hand. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said softly. Emily smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “You just had to be you. You ready to change those stinky pants?” “Just a little longer, please, Mommy?” “For you, anything, Baby Benny.” And in the glow of the setting sun, surrounded by the life they’d built together, they knew they had found their happily ever after. _________________________ To read more of my work, subscribe to my SubscribeStar or Ream!

Since you all so kindly clicked 30 likes on the last chapter, here's another! Chapter 8: I WAS STRAPPED in the car seat for about an hour before we pulled in front of a much larger home than Erica’s. As she set me on the ground, I noted that it was still well-kept, but it did seem like it was in a much older neighborhood. “So…?” “So, let’s go meet everyone,” she told me with a smile. I nervously shrugged and followed her as she opened the front door. “Mom! We’re here!” A tall woman with graying hair appeared from a nearby room and hugged her daughter. “Hi, Honey,” she told her. “Mom, this is Katie, the doctor staying with me right now.” The tall giant leaned down and waved at me, “Nice to meet you, Katie; I’m Wendy!” “Nice to meet you, too,” I said. “Where’s Dad?” “He’s out back with Tyler arguing about how to cook steaks, right?” “Sounds about right!” Erica laughed, “Harper here already?” Her mom shook her head, “I think you know it’s easier to get ready with one extra body than their three kids. I swear, last time I watched them try to get Amber ready, you would think she was a teenager trying to get her hair ‘just right!’” “Everly tends to slow things down, too,” Erica said. “Well, I can introduce Katie to Dad, Daniel, Zara, and Hudson before the real chaos begins!” “Sounds like a plan. Zara is helping me in the kitchen on some sides, if you want to come back to us?” “Sure,” she said. “Come on, let’s meet half the Daniels clan!” Erica smiled at me. “Okay,” I said nervously. I couldn’t believe the size of the house compared to even hers! The large furnishings somehow seemed even more intimidating. As we passed the living room, I noted a large playpen set up there, and I had no doubts I would be trapped inside if placed there! I followed Erica through a hallway to a dining room connected to a kitchen. “Hey Zara, I want to introduce her to Dad and Daniel, but this is Katie,” she said as I saw a much younger woman seeming to chop something on the counter. The woman turned with a smile and an odd gleam in her eye. “Well, look at you! You look absolutely precious!” she said as she knelt before me and hugged me. “Nice to meet you!” she said, pushing me out. “Katie is a doctor on an exchange visit from the other dimension who’s staying with me.” “Oh? A doctor, too?” The woman laughed, “Figures, you always like to hang out with the smart ones.” I noted she gave Erica a weird wink, and I couldn’t help but feel my stomach churn. “Go introduce her to your dad and Tyler; when you get done, we’ll figure out where Hudson is, and she can meet him. I think he’s probably hiding behind a couch somewhere getting his poopies done.” I just about barfed at that, but I was grateful Erica led me back to the back, opening a massive glass sliding door to the backyard. While it was cold outside, they still had a grill going! A tall man with graying hair conversed with a much younger man who, given their similarity, could have been a younger clone. I could see much of Erica in her dad’s face, so I had no doubt these were all family members. “Hey, Ery!” the younger man said. She hugged him and her dad, “Hi, guys.” “And who’s this?” The older man knelt down. “This is a friend of mine, Katie. She’s on an exchange program with our hospital from her dimension right now. They had a total screwup with her housing, so I offered her my guest bedroom.” “That was kind of you,” her dad said as he held out a hand. “I’m Jack, it’s nice to meet you!” “Nice to meet you too,” I told him. “And this is my baby brother, Tyler,” Erica said as the other man did similar to his dad. “I’m obviously the best one of the family,” he said with a smirk. I gave a nervous laugh at that. We spoke with them briefly before Erica complained about the cold, and I followed her inside. During the time that we’d been outside, Zara had found the missing boy and was carrying him in her arms. “Let’s say hi to your Aunty and her guest!” My stomach turned to ice as I realized this ‘nephew’ was the Little she had mentioned. He was probably about twenty-one and the right age to have been friends with the students we brought from home. He was a leaner build than most of them. You could almost have guessed from his clothes that he was that baby since he wore only a onesie with the edges of his diaper peeking out. Still, the facial shape and muscles visible under his t-shirt onesie were enough to ruin that illusion. Zara knelt down with the Little and sat crisscross with him on her lap. “Katie, this is Hudson, our baby boy.” He looked annoyed at the description but just said, “Hi.” “Hi,” I said back awkwardly. As I wondered what in the world to say to him, the front door came crashing open with the sound of “Grandma!!!” from two young girls. At the same time, an older version of Erica carried in a boy who looked like a genuine toddler and bigger than me. I was quickly introduced to Amber, who, at six years old, was over a foot taller than me. Everly was two and a half and probably eight inches taller than me, and Arthur, the baby who was carried inside and when he stood up, was a little bit bigger than me, too! As everyone was soon standing around and talking, Everly went to hug Hudson, and I realized they were about the same height, making me the shortest person there! Erica approached me just before lunch was ready, “This is kind of an awkward question, and I’ll accept whichever answer you prefer?” I felt a new low coming in my stomach, “…Okay?” “I didn’t think to bring a booster seat with me. My mom and dad have a couple extra high chairs so you could sit beside me at the Big table?” “Or?” She motioned her head to a short ‘kids’ table. “You could sit at the kid’s table with Amber, Everly, and Hudson?” I looked up at Harper, making a cooing face at Arthur, who seemed to be checking his diaper before tickling him. Jack looked incredibly intimidating with his massive size, and Tyler and Zara were similarly nerve-wracking. I looked over at Hudson, who seemed to smile and look hopeful toward me. “I guess I’ll try the kid’s table. It looks more comfortable?” She smiled at me, “Okay!” Not long after that, I found myself sitting at a toddler-sized table where my feet still dangled from the chair, but I could still reasonably reach the table. Everly and Hudson seemed to be the perfect size for the table, while Amber was just barely small enough to still use the table. Arthur was strapped into a high chair beside his mom. Erica kindly brought my plate to me with a steak, mashed potatoes, and something I guessed was asparagus? It looked like a piece of cucumber, though, almost without how big the spears were! Erica had started to leave me with a steak knife, but I noted her look at the others, “I’m going to cut your steak so we don’t leave this knife near the kids,” she told me quietly. I blushed but watched her quickly mutilate the piece of steak that otherwise had looked perfect! I was left with a fork small enough that I could grip, but noted the tines were dull and meant for toddlers! Hudson and Everly were given similar utensils, while Amber seemed to have a regular fork and a butter knife. A sippy cup was set beside Everly and me, while Amber had a short open glass. Hudson seemed to blush at the baby bottle beside his plate but took a swig from it anyway. “So, what’s your story?” Hudson asked me quietly. “What do you mean?” “How’d she adopt you?” “Adopt?” I looked shocked, “No, you misunderstand? I’m just staying at her place because the apartment the university rented didn’t allow Littles. I’m an adult back home? I came from another dimension as a university sponsor for an exchange group of students. I’m working with her at the hospital in the meantime?” He looked doubtful, “I hope that’s true.” “Umm…” I felt bad for asking, “What’s your story? He shrugged, “I was working as a stocker at the nearby grocery store. One day, we had a company luncheon that I was dumb enough to eat at. Mommy happened to be shopping in the store and next to me when the spiked food caught up with me.” “So what…? You had an accident, and that was it…?” I asked nervously. “That’s how it works here, Princess,” he told me. “Katie, do you like princesses?” Amber suddenly asked me. I shrugged, “When I was your age, I did? Not so much now?” She looked offended, “Pwincesses are the best!” Everly said before she could say something. I smiled, “I guess they are. I’ve always liked being a doctor more?” “Ooh! We play hospital!” Amber suggested. “Not until you finish your food,” Harper said beside us suddenly. “Yes, Mommy,” Everly said, beginning to scarf down her food. I made eye contact with Hudson, who rolled his eyes but looked defeated. I ate the steak and decided it was pretty tasty, but the larger blood vessels of the creature it came from made things stringier than I was used to. It was not like a piece of celery or anything, but it was different. It was well-cooked, though! The mashed potatoes and the asparagus were both good, too. “Oh look, Everly, you see what a good girl Katie is eating her veggies?” her father, Jack, said, appearing to check on all of us. I blushed. “Can you be big like her?” He asked. “She small!” she answered. “Means you shouldn’t have any problem, right?” I worried I was about to see a tantrum, but the little girl used the example and finished eating her asparagus pieces. “Mommy, we all done. We play now?” Amber asked. “Let me see,” she said, looking at all four plates on the table. I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten so fast! “Looks like there are four good eaters here! Zara, do you mind if they go play now? Or were you going to put Hudson down for a nap first?” “It’s Sunday. They can play for a bit, and then we’ll go home for his nap.” Beside me, Hudson sighed, and as Harper stood up and walked back to the table, whispered, “Who would have thought I’d wish for nap time…?” “Huh?” A moment later, I learned what he meant as Amber and Everly dragged us downstairs to a large basement play area. It was impressive, with a large selection of toys, games, and even what was probably a tiny toddler-sized swing set and slide. It looked like a standard swing set I had as a kid back home, and my stomach did not feel well at the sight of it! “Play hospital?” Amber suggested to her sister. “No, house! I be da mommy, you be daddy, and dey da babies!” Everly said so assertively, it was unnerving. I was terrified. For the next twenty minutes, Everly insisted on feeding me a fake baby bottle, checking my Pull-Up like a mom would with a baby, and insisted on changing me into a play princess dress over my clothes. It was so big that I could only assume it must have been hers until she had outgrown it. My face was red, but Hudson wasn’t immune, getting his very own princess dress, too. “She swing now!” Everly told Amber after they removed the dress a while later. “Put her to sleep like Arthy.” I looked at her and saw no way she could put me in the swing seat with a crossbar to keep the occupant from falling out. “We do that!” Amber surprised me suddenly by picking me up like I weighed nothing and easily holding me high enough above the swing. As she started to push me down, I instinctually put my feet in the slots so I wouldn’t be shoved against it and hurt myself. “Dere! Baby, now swing!” Everly said, beginning to push me in the swing for a good while before saying, “Baby, sleep now! Right then, she must have gotten bored with the game because she walked over to where Amber had moved to play with some large dolls and stuffed animals. Hudson seemed to hide in a corner of the room, and I could see him hiding beside a play kitchen. ‘This has got to be the most toys I’ve ever seen grandparents have for their grandkids,’ I thought. I was relieved that I was finally left alone and even lightly moved my legs to swing. Just then, though, something moved in my stomach. There was a gurgle. A cramp! I tried to push myself out of the swing but couldn’t get the leverage to lift myself up as it swung backward on me! “Erica?” I cried out. The girls both looked at me curiously while Hudson gave me a look of pity. Another cramp occurred before I could even hope one of them might consider helping me. Thinking nothing had happened, I was relieved before I realized my body was involuntarily pushing a semi-solid goop out into the back of my Pull-Up! Erica came down the staircase and stared at me just as the cramps finished. Zara had followed her down with a towel on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Erica asked me. I sobbed, “Please get me out of this?” She walked over, and I saw her nose twitch. She lifted me up, and we both realized the Pull-Up had not been up for that job. The pants and swing seat were a mess. “Don’t worry about the swing; I’ll get it cleaned up; you just worry about Katie,” Zara said with a kind smile. “It’s okay, Katie, you’re just a Little; accidents happen!” I was inconsolable then as Erica gingerly carried me up the stairs while holding me away from her. “Dad? I have a bag in my car beside her car seat. Would you mind going and grabbing it for me? I’m going to take her straight to the upstairs bathroom?” “Sure, sweetie,” he said while giving me a pitying look. “I’m sure your mo… Erica will get you all cleaned up shortly! Don’t worry about this!” At that point, I was in hysterics as she sat me down on my feet in the tub. She gently grabbed my feet, pulled the shoes I was wearing off, and set them beside the tub. “Arms up,” she told me. I managed to follow that direction, and she pulled the sweater off. “Oh, we’ll have to throw this in the wash,” she told me. I saw the stain even as she said it and cringed. “Okay, let’s get your pants off next.” As she pulled the elastic jeans down, I could see the seat of them was brown! “I don’t think this Pull-Up caught hardly any of this,” she said, clearly unimpressed. She and I both stared at the ruined disposable garment next. It was brown, and oozing brown moved down the leg gatherers all the way to my knees. It was liquid enough to have been brown paint. I turned my face up to the tiles in front of me as she ripped both sides open and did her best to contain it and ball it up. “Oh, Mom, thanks!” she said as the older giant handed her a sack to put the garment in. “What did you feed her earlier?” she asked Erica. “Nothing odd; her stomach definitely seems to have issues with some of our food or something, though…” I was completely nude at that point, with no bra on and no panties, and another woman was just staring at my filth-covered body. Just as I thought nothing could get worse, her dad brought her the diaper bag I’d seen her stash in her car. “There you go, get poor Katie cleaned up,” he told his daughter. “Don’t worry about this, Katie, I’ve had similar issues when I’ve traveled to other countries before!” He left, followed by his wife, who thoughtfully closed the door. Erica sighed, “Let’s use the shower head first…” After the water finally cleared, she borrowed baby soap, sat by the tub, and washed me down again. Wrapping me in a towel, she gathered the bag her dad had brought and carried me down the hall. Inside, I discovered a nursery with a crib and a changing table. ‘These guys just keep these for family members…?’ I couldn’t help but think. I could see Arthur sleeping in the crib, his breaths apparent even as he sucked on a pacifier. Erica set me on the changing table and pulled a strap from the sides over me. “What?” “We’re at my parent’s house; my mom will probably come here in a few minutes and tell me how to do this properly. Trust me…” With that, she asked, “Do you know if you got all that out?” I shrugged, “I didn’t know that was coming until just before it happened.” “Why didn’t you get out of the swing? You got into it, alright?” “I couldn’t; Amber had put me in it?” “Oh… She does like mothering Littles.” I noted her thoughtful look for a minute, making me nervous. “Look, when we get home, I’ll switch you to another Pull-Up, but until then, it’s better to put you in a diaper.” I groaned, “But…” “My mom will probably insist; you made a pretty bad mess downstairs…” she said. I blushed. “Get it over with, please?” I was soon in a diaper and then a spare one-piece sleeper that one of the girls had outgrown. “Well, looks like someone is doing better now?” Rachel asked. “I think so,” Erica said as she held me on her hip with her bag on the other shoulder, “But I think we’ve probably pushed things enough for her today. This is a strange world for her, and I’d be pretty mortified if I were in her shoes. We’re going to head home?” “I completely understand,” she said. “Katie, it was nice to meet you!” She pushed her way in and gave us a combined hug. I endured a similar goodbye from her dad, brother, and sister before it was insisted I wave bye-bye back at Everly, who waved at me. I was soon strapped into the car seat to return home to her house and noted that with a diaper, the blanket sleeper, and what I was sitting in, I did not appear to be much of an adult anymore! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press the 'Like' Button and leave comments! I'm willing to post again on Wednesday and Saturday this week if you all earn it! 😈 I'm currently 2/3rds through with writing Chapter 21 right now, so I have a lead on you that I should be able to maintain. Trying to finish writing this tomorrow or Wednesday so I can get back to some other projects. I took some vacation time at the end of the year, which is much-needed and helpful for writing time!

Chapter 7 - Fucking Assholes The sound of tearing paper told Melody she’d done her job well, and she smiled as she set aside her empty box of chocolates. The scene had been simple, but there was no such thing as an effortless encounter when Melody was involved. She made sure to give it her all, even when the stakes were nothing and the reward would only be knowledge. “How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing over at Skip. They were rubbing their wrists, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring off at the edge of the room. Melody recognized that they were being thoughtful, rather than zoning out, and after a few moments they replied. “That was a good learning experience.” “Okay, sure.” Melody smirked. “But how do you feel?” Rolling their eyes, Skip said, “I feel like that was a good learning experience.” Her amusement faded, and Melody stepped closer to Skip. “I know it was just chocolate and video games, but it was still a scene. That can be emotionally intense, and you can feel some serious fallout from it–please don’t be flippant. If you feel anxious or stressed, say something. If you feel relaxed and floppy, that’s good to know too–but don’t laugh off how you’re feeling. Okay?” Shrugging, Skip stood and shook their head. “I really feel fine. It was fun, I guess.” “You enjoyed it?” Melody asked, pleasantly surprised. Skip shrugged a second time, picking their hoodie up from the foot of the bed. “The chocolate was good. Do you want to write this up, and I’ll edit it in the morning after work?” Melody couldn’t shake the feeling that Skip was being avoidant, but she didn’t think it would do any good to press for further details. If Skip needed some time to process their feelings, that was on them. “Sure–just promise me that if you do start feeling a sub drop, you’ll tell me, okay?” “Sure, but–it was just paper and chocolate. I’m fine, Mels.” Picking up their switch, Skip nodded to Melody and began walking to the door. That was that. Their first scene together was done. … @CanineBites It’s come to my attention that a certain member of the community has taken it upon herself to write a book on BDSM play. I’m not going to name this person, I don’t want any drama, but let’s talk about this. /thread … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites When you write a book, you position yourself as an authority on that subject, but this person is NOT someone who should be trusted. Everyone who knows her knows she’s unstable, abusive, and crazy. /2 … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites This individual gives a bad name to the community. She’s already the first point of entry for many people to the world of kink, and that point of entry is full of consent issues and trust violations. /3 … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites When you engage in a scene with someone who thinks you’re looking for a partner, without telling them that you’re only looking for a one night stand, that’s not informed consent. /4 … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites This person is TOXIC. Anything she writes is not something to be trusted. She shouldn’t be writing a book at all, and if she does, nobody should read it. There’s nothing musical about this creep. Keep our community safe from gross predators! ❤️ ❤️ XOXO /fin … @MelodyMelody Replying to @CanineBites I haven’t done anything to you, and I’ve never lied to a partner. Calling me a fucking r@pist because because some incels think I friendzoned them is so gross. And you haven’t even read the book! … @CanineBites Replying to @MelodyMelody If you wrote it, I know it’s going to be trash. Also, blocked. … @MelodyMelody People are fucking assholes. I’m just trying to help out our community, and I’ve got randos coming after me trying to apply some shitass purity test to my relationships to prove I’m a bad guy. … @BunBunBunnyBunBun Replying to @MelodyMelody OMG sis what happened? … @MelodyMelody Replying to @BunBunBunnyBunBun People are saying my book is going to be some kind of assault manual. They haven’t even read it! … @BunBunBunnyBunBun Replying to @MelodyMelody That sucks … @MelodyMelody Replying to @BunBunBunnyBunBun Thanks ❤️ Once it comes out, it’s going to be super obvious that I know what I’m doing. She probably will still try and claim I just got everything right by mistake, but that’s none of my business :rolling_eyes: … Susie was cute, but she’d unfortunately learned everything she knew about BDSM from Fifty Shades of Grey, and that was worse than inexperience. By the time Melody had unwound the knot of misconceptions about spankings and safewords, Susie decided she wasn’t actually interested in anything kinky. They still fucked, but Melody got the sense that she wouldn’t need to ghost anyone. Susie had come in wanting danger, wanting a threatening asshole to pin her down and make her obey, and while Melody was willing to play the part, she wasn’t going to do that without protocols in place. (This is why we need better education,) she thought as she pumped her strap-on into the moaning blonde on her bed. Susie had got it in her head that the danger needed to be real in order to be fun, and the shock of reality had been so bad that she’d fallen back to bland, vanilla pegging. Ironically, Melody felt disappointed at the lack of fight. The push and pull of a proper scene. Having a prospective sub resist before melting, like cracking into a creme brulee to get to the creamy center. Once she’d learned that Melody wouldn’t just boss her around at random and magically fulfill all her fantasies, Susie had become all cream, cloying and dull like a pack of instant pudding. (God, two food metaphors in a row? Thank god my first thoughts aren’t put into print,) Melody thought to herself, as the girl beneath her moaned and squirted for the third time onto the towel spread over the bed. Pulling out, Melody rolled off of her partner and laid on her back, sweaty and unfulfilled. Susie moved onto her side, smiling in what was probably meant to be a wicked way, tracing Melody’s naked breasts with her finger. “That was great, babe. Do you want me to finger you?” “I’m alright,” Melody said, shaking her head. “Really?” Susie asked, her caress growing a little more firm. “Surely you want me to repay you a little, don’t you?” Melody perked up a bit. There was some push and pull. Sitting up on her elbows, she asked, “Are you going to beg so I’ll let you touch me?” “I just want to make sure you’re satisfied,” Susie explained, missing the tension Melody had hoped to build. Laying back, Melody nodded. “I had fun.” She’d buzz one out with her hitachi once Susie went home. Reaching over Susie, she took her phone, mind already moving to new topics. They hadn’t done anything kinky, so there was no need for aftercare. “Oh, sure,” Susie said, not quite disappointed, but uncertain what else she should say. “If you want to take a shower, there are towels in the bathroom,” she said. “Use the shampoo and body wash in the top drawer–it’s mine.” Susie started to sit up, but she didn’t make any motions to get out of bed. “You okay, sugar? You seem a little distant.” Melody almost dismissed the comment, but it wasn’t as though she cared what Susie thought about her. Setting aside her phone, she said, “Do you feel like I took advantage of you?” “What?” Susie’s eyebrows shot up. “No, of course not.” “I didn’t trick you into having sex? Everything was nice and clear?” Susie rolled her eyes. “Again with this? You don’t need my verbal, specific permission for every little thing we do together. I swear, you girls are all so worried about that stuff.” Melody frowned, sidetracked. “‘You girls’?” “Never mind.” Rolling her eyes, Susie sat up, throwing her legs over the bed and bending to take her panties. “Look, this was fun–I’ll call you, okay?” (No you won’t,) Melody thought, though she didn’t call out the lie–it’s not as though she wanted a second date. “Consent is important, okay?” “Yeah, I think me screaming ‘yes’ over and over was plenty of consent,” Susie said. “Look, honey, I don’t know what’s got you all worked up, but you did fine.” “I know I did fine,” Melody said, reassessing her assumptions about this girl’s inexperience. “That’s not the point.” Picking up her shirt, Susie stood and pulled it over her head. “I know you want to be all impressive, but you don’t have anything to prove. Just have fun with it.” “I’m not trying to prove anything, but it’s more fun when we’re on the same page,” Melody snapped. “Uh-huh, sure thing.” Shimmying into her shorts, Susie said, “You’re right. Good job, hon, you’re way more ethical and better at this than everyone.” Rolling her eyes, Melody laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Whatever.” Stepping into her shoes, Susie said, “Look–I don’t know what you wanted out of tonight, but it clearly wasn’t sex, and I’m not here to play around with whatever mess of problems you’ve got going in that head of yours.” Straightening, she looked down at herself, confirming that her wardrobe was complete. “I had fun. See you later.” She left the room, and Melody was left dumbstruck and confused. (‘You girls’?) It took a few minutes to become certain that Susie had been wrong. Melody had wanted sex, just not the basic-bitch boring sex that Susie was comfortable with, or the risky unplanned kinky play she’d wanted at the start. There wasn’t anything more complicated going on, and she didn’t have to make excuses for having high standards. Either way, the evening had left her unsatisfied, and no amount of masturbation would scratch the very specific itch she was feeling. She didn’t need an orgasm, she needed to play, and the available partners were not going to do her much good in that regard. Ironically, between near-virgins and stuck up know-it-alls, her most fun with a scene lately had been with Skip. At least they had enough confidence to know what they were doing, without trying to boss Melody around or jump the gun. Raising her phone, Melody sent a text. ‘What do you want to do next for the book?’ Skip’s reply came only a minute later. ‘Well, we tried paper. Want to escalate to rope?’ ... Support for this slow burn is sponsored by readers like you! I promise there will be diaper stuff soon. https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

This story is an absolute mindfuck... but in a good way. It seriously reminds me of being young again during the golden age of our literary scene back in the 2000s... I don't know what else to say... It's like you've reached back twenty years in time and presented us with a gem from the past... I was actually going to write a sequel to one of my DD stories where an Amazon ends up going to a world of giants, but why bother now? LOL I've noticed you're a bit fixated on Firefly. If you like anime I highly recommend Outlaw Star since it started the whole Sci Fi Western concept before Cowboy Bebop hit the air a year later...

Love the Firer Fly and Andromeda references a lot. At first I wasn't sure what to make of it all. But chapter 2 makes the whole thing more interesting. So the DD is such a huge anomaly that others notice her. Considering PPP's original work, this is of course clear. And the inconsistencies are also very interesting.

I love that intro, so many great call backs and references though younger readers might miss them. I loved chapter 1, the cognitive disconnect from Ben is great. so many role reversals from the start. Like you think you get whats happening but then it gets flipped on its head. "How do you feel when people bring attention to your physical disability – your gigantism, the thing that makes you unable to function in our world?" that had me laughing. Refreshing for the smaller people to have some power for a change. Anyway, Look forward to the next chapter. and i cant wait to read about Grace again, hehe.

Chapter 6: Morning Out Daniel found it disorienting to be looking backwards while the car was in motion. He had no idea where they were going. After seeing some brick buildings after seeing nothing but trees Daniel was clued in on where they were going. There was a town not far from the lake that he knew about. "Mommy." He said. His aunt Linda seated herself right next to both him and Lucy so he was facing her the whole car ride. "Yes, sweetie?" Linda said interrupting her conversation with her sisters. "Where are we going?" Daniel asked. "We are going to the grocery store in town to stock up on food." Linda said. Without saying anything she dug around in a bag she had packed for him and Lucy. She pulled out two pacis and placed them in their mouths. Daniel shifted his head. He didn't want the paci, but his Aunt shot him a look which made him rethink. He decided to just accept the paci. It was strange. He gave it a few tentative sucks before involuntarily giving it a few deep and fast sucks. It was the same response as when he breastfed except no milk. It still gave him a tingling sensation that started at the top of his head and made its way down his neck and spine. It was calming. His Aunt in the meantime went back to her conversation with her sisters. Daniel found that their wasn't much to really look at with how he was seated. He found his eyes drawn to his Aunt's chest. He had never really noticed or thought about breasts before, but now he couldn't take his eyes off the mounds that were under his Aunt's Christmas sweater. It wasn't like he hadn't noticed breasts before, but he never really paid them any mind. It was different though. Now they weren't just mounds that woman had and guys didn't. He had seen them uncovered. He had nursed at them. He thought about how he wouldn't mind seeing them again. He wanted to feel them and drink from them. Daniel's thought were interrupted by the van coming to a stop. He shook the idea of breasts out of his mind for the moment. There were more pressing things on his mind. Mostly the fact that he was about to be in public for the first time dressed like a baby. Daniel and Lucy were helped out of the car and stood on their feet. All the other kids were helped out of the car. Aunt Trisha and Chrissy had their babies strapped to their chest. Aunt Nora came from around the back of the car with a two-seater stroller. Daniel panicked. He anticipated that the stroller was for him. To his surprise Lucy was strapped into one of the seats and one of the twins, Nora's son, was strapped into the other seat. Daniel had hoped that he would be able to walk. Aunt Lisa had run into the store ahead of them and brought back two shopping carts. Her kid, Charlie was seated in one of the shopping carts seat. Before Daniel could even say anything he was scooped up by his Aunt Linda and placed in the backward facing seat of the other shopping cart. Once he was in the seat they made their way into the store together. It must have been an interesting scene for an onlooker. It was a caravan of two shopping carts and a stroller accompanied by five woman, two of which had babies strapped to them. Daniel thought it was interesting how the two girls, Jill and Tina, were trusted to walk while everyone else wasn't. Daniel wondered if Jeremy ever felt embarrassed by the fact that his twin sister was treated as much older than him. She was skipping alongside the stroller. She was also wearing leggings which made it so you could tell she wasn't wearing a diaper or pull ups, while the bulge of Jeremy's diaper was fairly visible through his pants. It annoyed Daniel that he was left to be yet again looking backwards not being able to see where they were walking. As they entered the store he did turn around to try and see how crowded it was. There weren't too many people in the store, but still too many for Daniel. He just nursed his paci harder as he blushed knowing people could see him and probably could tell he was wearing a diaper. As they made their way through the store Daniel kept being left to just sit there with his thoughts while his Aunt's browsed the shelves for what they needed. Occasionally a stranger would walk by, but they didn't seem to pay him much mind. They would look, but he thought it was probably more so at the size of their group than specifically him. After a while of going up and down the shelves a familiar feeling hit Daniel. He had to pee. He tried to push the feeling aside, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the pressure. Daniel eventually decided there was no point in trying to hold it anymore, so he let go. It was different than earlier that morning. At least then he was alone and he was still not fully awake. Now he was sitting up high on a pedestal in the middle of a grocery store. He could feel the diaper warming and swelling as it soaked up what he put out. He tried to keep his face neutral to not alert anyone to what he was doing, but it was hard to hide the relief he felt from being free of the pressure. An old lady walked by and gave him a polite smile. He blushed thinking that she probably knew what he was doing. It was a strange sensation. It felt like at any moment he was going to feel pee trickling down his leg , but it never happened. Just the continued swelling of the diaper. He reached down to feel the front of his pants to confirm they were dry. It confused his brain, because everything told him his pants should have been soaked, but they weren't. Linda noticing Daniel feeling around his crotch reached her own hand between the legs and gave his diaper a squeeze confirming her suspicions. She could feel through the pants that it was still warm indicating he had just gone. She patted his head telling him "Good baby. I'll change you in a little bit." Daniel blushed furiously at his aunt's intrusion. He hated that she not only checked his diaper in front of anyone as if it were the most normal thing, but made no attempt at hiding the status of his diaper from anyone that was close enough to hear. He just nursed his paci as they continue shopping. They made their way around the store with Daniel trying his best to lay low. At one point their group all broke up to go to different sections of the store leaving just him with his Aunt. They were tasked with going to the deli to get different sandwich meats for some of the outings throughout the week. An old lady who had been waiting in line ahead of them turned around commenting "He is so precious. How old is he?" "Danny is two." Linda said. "They are so cute at that age, but can get into a lot of trouble." The lady said. Daniel blushed furiously. He hated that the lady didn't even question his Aunt saying he was two. Did he really look that young? At the counter his Aunt placed their order for a variety of meats and cheeses to be sliced. After checking with Daniels Aunt that it was okay the teenager helping them offered a Daniel a slice of cheese. Daniel's aunt pulled his paci from his mouth saying. "aww isn't that sweet. Say thank you to the nice man." Daniel accepted the cheese with a reserved "Thank you." It must have come off as him being a nervous two year old because the old lady who had talked to them earlier commented "How precious." Daniel ate the cheese happy that he had been rid of the pacifier. After they were done getting what they needed they walked around the store to find the rest of their group. They ran into Aunt Nora who was pushing around the two seater stroller with Lucy and Jeremy. "One of them pooped." Nora said as she approached them. "Lets go to the woman's room. I need to change this one anyway." Aunt Linda said patting Daniels head. Daniel quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard his aunt. Thankfully nobody was in earshot. They made their way to the back of the store where the bathrooms were located. Aunt Linda lifted Daniel out of the shopping cart seat and placed him on his feet. Without the support from the seat Daniel could feel the diaper between his legs sagging. Inside the bathroom both Lucy and Jeremy were unbuckled from the stroller to have their diapers checked. It was Lucy that had pooped her diaper. Aunt Linda made quick work of changing her daughters diaper while Jeremy and Daniel stood and watched. Daniel noted how Lucy did not care at all that her bottom was on full display up on the koala changing table, and why would she. She was an actual baby after all. After Lucy was doing being change Jeremy's diaper was changed next since it was wet. When Jeremy was done getting his diaper changed it was Daniel's turn. Unfortunately for Daniel a family walked in as Jeremy was being lifted off the table. It was a mother and her two kids. One was a younger girl around Daniel's actual age and the other was a teenager. The younger girl was the one that had to use the bathroom so she went into the stall leaving the mother and teenager to watch. Daniel froze as his aunt lifted him under his arms up onto the changing station. Nora had engaged the mother and teen in conversation asking if they were on vacation or if they were local. Daniel blocked it all out as he was laid down. In a quick motion his pants were pulled down to his ankles. Daniel looked towards the wall rather than at the strangers now about to witness him getting his diaper changed. Aunt Linda undid the tapes on his diaper and pulled the front away exposing him. Daniel hoped that she would be quick, but to him it seemed like it was taking forever. His ankles were grabbed so Aunt Linda could slide the old diaper out from under him. She used a wet wipe to quickly clean his front and bottom. For her it was procedural. For Daniel it was humiliating to be on full display to these strangers. It was humiliating enough that his Aunt Linda had already seen him naked a handful of times, but now these random people had too and anyone that happened to walk into the bathroom would too. Daniel felt a sense of relief as a fresh diaper was slid under his bottom. His Aunt made quick work in pulling it up between his legs and fastening the tabs. Daniel didn't think he could have been redder in the face than he was in that moment. After the bathroom fiasco they met back up with the rest of his Aunt's and their kids. They made plans on where they were going to go for lunch. Next to the grocery store was a local restaurant that they decided to go to. First went back to the van to load up the groceries. After everything was loaded up Aunt Linda told the rest of the group, "You guys go on ahead. Order some drinks and appetizers. I gotta feed the babies real quick." His Aunt's all said okay with Daniel's Aunt Trisha saying "We'll watch Daniel for you while you feed Lucy." "Oh no. Daniel's staying. He feeds just like Lucy. Don't You baby?" Aunt Linda quickly replied give Daniels leg a squeeze. "Daniel breastfeeds?" Trisha asked shocked along with everyone else. Daniel felt like he was going to faint. He really hoped that was something that would stay private. "Yes, of course. He gets treated exactly like Lucy." Linda replied. "If you say so. We'll see you inside." Trisha said leaving Linda with Lucy and Daniel. Daniel could see his Aunt's talking to each other as the walked away. They probably were talking about him being breastfed he thought. Linda closed the door of the van with Lucy and Daniel both sitting on either side of her. She took her sweater off before lifting up her shirt and moving her bra out of the way. Lucy per usual did not hesitate to hungrily attack her nipple. Daniel on the other hand seemed to be frozen clearly in his own head. Linda took it upon herself to assist him. Daniel thought about how he was going to have to go off the grid and would never be able to see his family again. He snapped back to reality when he felt his Aunt put her arm around his shoulder pulling him down and toward her chest. Daniel didn't fight it. After all a part of him was looking forward to this, but he didn't think everyone would know about it. Daniel opened his mouth and took his Aunt's nipple deep into his mouth. In practically no time at all he found the right rhythm to get her milk flowing. His worries and his thoughts seemed to drip away as he suckled at his Aunt's breast. He enjoyed the taste of her milk, but something about the process of getting it he found to be most enjoyable. It was soothing. He felt really cared for and close to his Aunt. Linda stroked Lucy and Daniel's hair as they nursed side by side. Occasionally she would rotate between rubbing their backs and patting their diapered bottoms as well.

I woke up about 30 minutes ago because I was starting to fill my overnight diaper with a massive load of diarrhea. I have had several major mudslides since the first load came out. I am pretty sure I had a blowout into my diaper cover. I will know shortly when I change. Looks like it might be a long night with several messy diapers.

Ohh-Ra Devil Dog 99-03 here!! enlisted? Commissioned? Or Non are you retired after 20? Oohrah devil dog spent a couple years in Camp Pendleton

This is a sequel to "Out Of Their Depth" which can be found here: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/60344-out-of-their-depth/ Ben and Jack hope they have put their nightmare behind them but things are rarely that easy. Brick, their tormentor, isn't finished with the young men and before they know it their lives are spiralling out of control again. --- This story has been available on my Patreon page for the last week and with a $5 a month pledge you can see all my updates a week before anyone else. For $10 a month you can get early access plus access to TWENTY-EIGHT EXCLUSIVE stories that only my patrons get to see. If you are interested please consider giving my Patreon page a look https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 --- Out Of Their Depth 2 By Elfy Ben and Jack ran away from the park with the sounds of laughter chasing them. The messy diapers wrapped around the waists of the two eighteen-year-olds felt like anchors that weighed them down. By the time they got back to their neighbourhood they were covered in sweat and out of breath, it was only as they reached Ben’s house that they finally felt free of Brick and his horrid games. “Oh shit…” Jack gasped as he put his hands on his knees and looked at Ben’s house. It was like a mini-hive of activity outside Ben’s house with a couple of cop cars sitting outside. Jack recognised his mother’s car and realised that both his parents and Ben’s mom must be wondering where they had go to, they had said they wouldn’t be long. “Ben? Oh my God, where have you been!?” Ben’s mom must’ve been anxiously looking out of the window and now she was marching across her front yard with a couple of uniformed police officers following her. Jack’s mom was also hurrying across towards the two young men. “What on Earth are you wearing!?” Jack’s mom gasped as she drew near the two guys. Jack grimaced as all the people that had been hanging around arrived on the scene to stare at the two bizarrely dressed boys. Both of the guys were very hesitant to say what happened, they were both very fearful of the promised repercussions from Brick. Unfortunately for Ben and Jack neither parents nor the cops would accept non-answers. Eventually they felt forced to disclose everything that had happened no matter how embarrassing it had all been. “Oh my God…” Jack’s mom said quietly when the boys had finished their tale, “We can’t let them get away with this!” “I assure you we will be looking into the matter, ma’am.” One of the stunned policemen said, “Might I suggest your son gets cleaned up…” Ben and Jack were only too happy to leave the living room to get showers and regular clothes. Their humiliation was finally over. --- Brick took a deep breath as he sat in the hot cramped interrogation room. It had been hours since he had been woken up and brought in for questioning. He silently seethed that Ben and Jack had gone to the police, he was sure that he had intimidated them into not doing it. He was doing his best to keep his cool whilst questioned and was currently waiting for the two cops who were questioning to come back. He didn’t have to wait long. “Are you telling us that these two guys are making up all these claims?” One of the officers said as the other made notes. “Not at all.” Brick said. He was the image of coolness under questioning. “Good. We went straight to that park of yours and we saw EVERYTHING.” The officer replied as he placed photos of the automated nursery on the table. “What I’m saying is that the two poor guys that got trapped in the nursery are mistaken.” Brick said as he picked up a photo and theatrically shook his head, “It wasn’t me that was responsible. It was Alan.” “Alan?” One of the officers repeated as he started scribbling down details. “Alan Howson.” Brick continued, “He worked security. It would’ve been his responsibility to make sure no guest was stuck anywhere they shouldn’t have been. Look, I was a bully, I’m ashamed but it’s true. Jack and Ben saw me at the park before the unfortunate incident, they probably thought it was me because of our past. I don’t blame them but they’re wrong.” The two police officers paused and looked at each other. The one who had been writing notes tapped his pen on his notebook a couple of times. The other officer nodded his head to the door and both of the cops walked out of the room to discuss things. Brick watched the police officers leave and smiled, he knew exactly what he was doing. Poor Alan, the security guard who was blackmailed by Brick, was always set up to be the bully’s fall guy and now he was sure he would get away with everything. The security cameras had been deleted and all the robot logs had become strangely corrupted, there was no evidence linking Brick to the incident. The cops came in again and tried to put some more pressure on Brick but it was clear that they knew they had nothing on the arrogant young man. Brick was walking out of the police station as a free man just a couple of hours later. As Brick walked down the steps to the street he saw that he had several missed calls from one of the few people he was worried about. It was the general manager of the park he worked at, Mr. Spencer. Brick pressed the re-dial button and heard the other end get answered after barely one ring. “What the Hell is going on!?” Mr. Spencer demanded, “First I hear you’ve been arrested for that little stunt you pulled and then they drag Alan out from work…” Brick was a little surprised. They had already arrested Alan! “Relax, it was a misunderstanding on their part.” Brick said as he walked away from the cop shop. “Was it really?” Mr. Spencer sounded extremely disbelieving, “I know you and I know Alan. That guy wouldn’t hurt a fly but you…” “I don’t know what you are insinuating, sir.” Brick interrupted, “But there was no evidence that I did anything wrong.” “And I say that’s bullshit!” Mr. Spencer practically roared, “You’re fired, Brick. I can’t have this sort of stuff going on. If the public found out it would be a nightmare. I need to protect myself and the company.” “But… Sir!” Brick was actually taken aback that someone was standing up to him. “It’s over, Brick.” Mr. Spencer said calmly, “The contents of your locker will be mailed to you along with your last paycheque.” The phone hung up before Brick could plead his case and he was left shocked on the street. After several minutes of barely comprehending what had happened he slowly collected his wits and made his way home. --- Ben sat up in bed and stretched. He swung his feet sideways off the bed and immediately trod on an old carton of takeout food that was sitting by the mattress. Ben’s usually immaculate room was a mess, ever since he had returned home from the park two months ago he had changed significantly. He rarely left his bedroom let alone the house and he was happiest when isolated from everyone. He would spend most of his days and nights on the computer and only went to bed when he could no longer keep his eyes open. The last time Ben had left his room it was to attend his graduation from high school. The eighteen-year-old had reluctantly got dressed up to go to the ceremony and receive his diploma. The only person he talked to was Jack who seemed to be having a much easier time coping. It wasn’t an easy night for Jack or Ben. Word of the incident had spread and both men noticed others staring or whispering to their friends and pointing their way. As Jack was walking across the stage to collect his certificate he distinctly heard someone in the crowd yell “BABY!” which was followed by hushed laughter from others. Jack and Ben had both become social pariahs. Perhaps the most surprising thing about graduation night was how no one had any news about Brick. The bully hadn’t turned up to the ceremony and from asking around it seemed like no one had seen him for weeks. One of Brick’s best friends was overheard saying that the two of them had been hanging out when Brick was arrested and he hadn’t heard from him since. Ben and Jack knew Brick had been released since they kept up to date with their case so they were surprised that he was missing. Ben stood up and scratched his junk lazily. He made his way across his room making sure not to tread on any of the trash on the floor and got dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing for a week. He went to his computer and once it was booted up he saw that he had a message from Jack. “Hey Ben, come meet me in the park! It’s URGENT!” Jack had typed and sent the message twenty minutes ago. Ben was confused and surprised but since Jack was one of the only people he felt comfortable with and who would speak to him these days he quickly made the decision to go see his friend. He left his room and was quickly on his way out of the door without saying a word to his family. The park wasn’t far away and Ben was walking through the gates less than fifteen minutes later. After so long cooped up at home in his bedroom it felt strange to be out in the bright sunlight, Ben almost felt like some kind of vampire as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Ben!” Jack yelled from quite some way off. Jack ran over to Ben and the two of them walked over to a bench that was next to the only road that ran through the park. They sat down opposite each other with the road to their side. Despite the hot day the park was very quiet, it was a weekday so it wasn’t any surprise that most people were at work or in school. “What’s so urgent?” Ben asked as he looked around suspiciously. The incident at the theme park had made him paranoid. “I got a message from the owner of Wild Rapids.” Jack replied quietly. “What the Hell!? The park where we…” Ben’s eyes went wide as he suddenly scrambled off the bench and looked around more frantically, “Are you insane!?” “Calm down!” Jack quickly said as he stood up himself, “Listen, he said he wanted to meet us and discuss a “substantial settlement” to stop us publicising what happened or going after the company for compensation.” “And you trust him? How do you even know it was him?” Ben asked with a shake of the head, “These guys kidnapped us! They… They did…” “I know what they did. I was there, remember?” Jack said bitterly and sarcastically, “But if they are willing to give us several suitcases of cash I’m going to listen.” Ben sighed deeply. He had a really bad feeling about this but he sat back down on the bench anyway. His leg shook nervously and he quickly started biting his nails. Jack didn’t look much more comfortable but he managed a weak smile, he hadn’t told his friend about the nightmares he had been having that were more like flashbacks. “When are they supposed to meet us?” Ben asked after a couple of minutes. “Any second now.” Jack replied as he looked at his watch. As if on cue a large van appeared in the distance. The boys watched as it slowly made it’s way down the path towards them. The van was white and in the blazing sun was actually quite hard to look directly at as the light bounced off it. The windows appeared to be tinted because as it drew nearer it was impossible to look through them. On the side of the van was a Wild Rapids logo as well as a list of the locations of their parks. The van only stopped when it was exactly level with the bench. Ben and Jack looked at each other and then to the now stationary van. It wasn’t moving and there was no sound of movement from inside, there was something very unnerving about the way it had crept up to them. Suddenly the still air was broken as the side door to the van slid open very quickly. Robot Nannies just like those from their previous trip to the water park came pouring out. Ben was grabbed before he could even react, a large pair of metallic arms wrapped around his comparatively slender body and started pulling him from the bench. Jack had an extra second and turned to run away, he barely made it a couple of steps before his leg was grabbed and he fell face first into the grass. “No!” Ben shouted as he struggled, “Help! Help!” There was no one around and the robot’s strength easily outmatched Ben’s. The struggling young man was lifted effortlessly and taken to the van, he was passed inside to another of the Nannies who quickly set to work strapping him into an oversized toddler car seat. Ben couldn’t believe what was happening but as the harness holding him to the chair was tightened he saw his best friend getting dragged up and into the van. Ben kept shouting for help until the robot that had strapped him down stuck an oversized pacifier in his mouth. The soother was attached to a strap which went behind his head where it was tightened so that Ben couldn’t remove it. Jack was suffering the same fate in an identical car seat right next to Ben. The nurses strapped Jack down and gagged him with the pacifier in very short order. The terror flowed through Ben and Jack as they watched the van door slide shut. It felt like a horrible case of déjà vu that they were helpless to prevent. A light embedded in the ceiling turned on and after a minute the van started driving forwards and out of the park. All Ben and Jack could do was make muffled screams into their pacifier gags. The robo-nurses clearly weren’t satisfied with how helpless the two men were. Mittens were slipped on to their hands. They were forced to keep their hands in fists as the restrictive gloves were tightly tied at the wrists to prevent them slipping off. Ben felt tears flowing down his face as he struggled uselessly. He could hear the van speeding up as they left the neighbourhood where the boys had always lived. Minutes passed and the nurses stared blankly at the two terrified young men. Jack felt even worse than Ben, he felt personally responsible for this predicament and the worst part was that he had dragged Ben back into it. The van was really speeding and the guys in the back could only guess that they were now on a highway. It was barely audible over the sound of the moving vehicle but after a little while there were some sounds of movement from the front of the van. A little metal shutter was opened up and both Ben and Jack were stunned into stillness as their eyes widened in shock and fear. “Hello boys.” Brick said with a sneer, “Happy to see me?” Ben started crying twice as hard whilst Jack felt rage filling his system. Jack pulled against his restraints without any success. “You guys will be happy to hear that I’ve found a new job.” Brick continued as if this was a group of friends having a good catch up, “At a theme park as well! They have been investing heavily into AI and robotics. The owner called me up to personally offer me a job, I have no idea who he is, just offered me a contract right there and then. Made me assistant manager as well, I’m overseeing all the robotics and technology.” Ben couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. After everything that had happened another theme park owner had handed Brick a job. It didn’t seem right but he had no reason to doubt the bully’s words given the situation. It was peculiar though because he was sure that Brick had no knowledge about robotics. “I can see you’re both lost for words.” Brick let out a harsh laugh, “You should have a nap. We have quite a journey ahead of us.” Ben and Jack watched as Brick lifted up a tablet and flicked his finger across the screen. The Nannies in the back of the van suddenly started moving in unison and they started to unscrew the mouth guard of the pacifiers. The latex teats that had filled the guy’s mouths came loose and were pulled out. Before either of them could make any sound other than a gurgle the Nannies attached a couple of clear tubes to the gag. The tubes went to the back of both men’s mouths, the other ends were attached to the breast area of the robots. After a couple of seconds white milk started flowing down the tubes and straight into Ben and Jack’s mouths. They swallowed as hard and fast as possible to stop the milk from overwhelming them. They could feel their bellies getting filled with the liquid and it proved to be a horrid reminder of what had happened before. Unlike when they were at “Wild Rapids” the milk stopped before it overwhelmed either of them, they thought they were receiving a small piece of good luck until their eyes started drooping heavily. “That’s it.” Brick laughed maniacally, “Just let the milk do it’s job.” Ben and Jack found it incredibly hard to stay awake. Ben’s head kept rolling forwards and then jerking back up again, he tried to keep himself conscious but the milk must’ve been spiked because everything was quickly going dark. Jack’s vision swam as he fought off the sleep that threatened to overwhelm him. He saw Ben’s head droop and stop after a minute and Jack knew he couldn’t hold on forever either. Despite fighting to the last minute his eyelids finally dropped and he could no longer open them again.

Charlotte finally leaves the nursery... But things don't get any better for her. Will a familiar face be able to help her? What could possibly be the plan for her? Will she get one final chance to escape and expose this whole operation to save herself and launch her career? Find out in the final instalment of Stork Industries! --- My writing is only possible thanks to the generosity of all my Patreon backers. Those that pledge $5 a month get early access to new story updates once every four days and a whole week before anyone else sees it. Those who pledge $10 get the early updates and exclusive stories (One of which was posted today.) So a big thank you to: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Sophie S, Earnest B, Tomy, Jack O, Joshua M, Neshon C, Txdiapered, Kimberley S, P74_1986, Chris, Dre, Alejandro S, Mike H, Kei, Dorian G, C Dom, Persi S, Ceneroz, Rob, Kyle L, Darrell, Jack C, S Millard, Cheryl C, Carlota C, Alex W, Ron M, Tsidt, Britnee L, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Cole T, J Land, Tim F, Chris B, WillNotWill, Jerry J, Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, John D, Fas-Faas, Infouneed2know, Daniel W, LuvsSissy, Epsilon89, Paul O, Cole S, Cole, Guilyn, Erik P, Bojack D, Shihouin10, Scott S, Diapering Daddy, Miguel A, James B, A Random Patreon, Eric C, Ben R, Lin J, Ben F, Henry C, Bob, Kent J --- At some point Charlotte must have fallen asleep as the next thing she knew she was opening her eyes whilst still in the crib. She had dribbled somewhat whilst asleep and she felt a pain in her neck, she must have slept awkwardly. The nursery was still empty and quiet, with the lights turned down very low it created a creepy atmosphere. Charlotte had no idea how long she had been asleep nor what time it was now that she had woken up. Charlotte slowly sat up and felt her hair, still in their pig tails, drop over her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and heard the crinkling from her waist, there was a small silver lining in that she was still dry. She half-expected her diaper to be used whilst she was asleep, she had no idea how much the television show she had been forced to watch had affected her. Maybe Charlotte’s movement had caused some motion sensor to trigger but it wasn’t long after she started moving around the crib that the door opened up and let Nanny into the nursery. Charlotte looked at the robot through the bars with trepidation, she feared the Nanny now. “It’s time to go.” Nanny said as she approached the bars slowly. “Go? Go where?” Charlotte asked as she pressed herself against the bars of her small prison. “To your new parents.” Nanny replied simply. Nanny headed over to the wardrobe and picked out some clothes that she placed in the crib. Charlotte felt herself freeze as the reality of what was happening crashed down on her. This was it, she had failed to escape and now she was going to be taken away. Her mind could hardly comprehend what was happening, there must be some way of stopping this madness. “I’m… I’m not ready.” Charlotte almost whispered as a couple of bottles full of milk were dropped on to the mattress. “It has been determined that you are ready.” Nanny replied as if they had run Charlotte’s statistics through a computer and made a determination. Maybe they had done just that, Charlotte thought. “But… But…” Sheer panic was clouding Charlotte’s mind. She couldn’t get her mouth to work, she was panicking so much that she wasn’t even emotional. It was as if someone had just switched off the emotions inside her. When Nanny had finished throwing supplies in the crib, she pressed a button and stood back as glass rose up just outside the bars of the toddler bed. Charlotte’s eyes opened wide as she saw the glass on all sides. It was strong and looked like it would be even tougher to break the bars. When the glass had extended fully a large steel ceiling started descending to the crib. Charlotte hadn’t even seen it hanging from the ceiling before, now she was watching as it dropped lower and lower until it rested on top of the steel crib corners. “No, no, no!” Charlotte whined when she heard the unmistakeable sound of screwdrivers and surmised that the crib’s roof was now attached to the corner posts. There were small holes dotted throughout the steel ceiling which was letting air in. Charlotte felt like a rat in a cage as she pressed against all sides of the small box that now enclosed her. She was scared and looked out at Nanny, her enemy, her only hope of stopping this. “Nanny… I can help you get more people, I can do things for you guys. Please don’t do this…” Charlotte begged as she pushed against the securely fastened ceiling of the crib. Nanny didn’t respond. Charlotte wasn’t even sure it could hear her although the small holes should allow some of the sound to escape the glass prison at least. Charlotte watched as Nanny pressed another button behind the crib, she jumped when she felt the bed suddenly lifted up slightly. Some wheels must have been brought out of the corners because Nanny began pushing the crib which moved towards the oft used door. Charlotte was trapped and just along for the ride as she was wheeled out of the nursery like an animal being transported by the zoo. Charlotte was wheeled past the bathroom and through the door at the other end of the hallway. She looked out the sides of the crib in wonder as she saw a huge room filled with people, mostly in white coats, milling around. Charlotte could see screens with other nurseries very similar to hers on them, she realised that she was just one of many people trapped at this facility. “Laura!?” Charlotte’s heart stopped when she saw one of the last people she had seen as a free woman. The woman who had seemed so distressed at the café heard Charlotte and walked over to her. The young journalist could see that Laura was wearing a white coat with the same stork logo that her onesie had. What was she doing here? “Hello, Charlotte.” Laura said with a thin-lipped smile. Charlotte felt embarrassed that in a room full of professionals she was naked except for the diaper she had on, at least it was clean. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as she hurried across her crib to stare out at Laura. “You’ve done very well.” Laura said condescendingly as she looked at her clipboard, “You took to re-education very quickly and are much more obedient than we expected.” Charlotte blushed. She thought she had resisted but these people clearly disagreed, she wondered what other people did to resist. “What… What about your child? I’m confused…” Charlotte was still feeling overawed by everything. Was this all some kind of sick prank? “Come on, Charlotte. You’re smarter than that.” Laura sighed and bent over, “There never was a baby. We don’t ship babies out of here, we aren’t monsters.” “But you said…” Charlotte was so confused. “We give the appearance of sending babies out because it helps lure marks to us.” Laura replied, “I lied, the video was faked and this was just my way of getting you to us. It’s how I get paid.” “Why me?” Charlotte asked. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Young, female, good looking… You fetch a high price in our catalogue.” Laura said, “We already sold you. Some are here months before moving on, apparently your new owners like a bit of fight so they don’t mind you not being fully trained.” Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She was simply too horrified to really form any coherent response. Her mouth open and closed like a fish but no voice came out. “Normally we capture random people but we had a very specific need for someone like you. I think I deserve an Oscar for the acting performance I put on.” Laura laughed, “I’m sure my bonus will make up for it.” “You bitch…” Charlotte said quietly in shock. She had been played from the very beginning. “We followed you for a week before I ran into you in the coffee shop, we had someone in your office give us information. Then we followed you all the way until you started climbing and our cameras did the work from there. Good luck.” Laura said with a small smile, “Nanny, take her to Departures.” The crib began rolling again and Charlotte moved along the glass to keep facing Laura until the employee turned away from Charlotte and began examining another set of cameras. Charlotte looked in the direction she was being pushed and saw a large hangar door partially open and, unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, she saw other cribs being wheeled towards the opening from other places in the vast facility. She was torn between curiosity and terror at what was coming next. It was so much to take in, just a few days ago she was a hot prospect as a journalist, now she was about to be sold as a baby slave. It was too fantastic to seem like it could be reality. The large doors loomed ever closer until Charlotte was pushed through them and out into a new room. This room was empty except for five other identical cribs. They were being placed on small and slightly raised platforms. Charlotte was breathing heavily as she was placed in her position. The Nanny had no sooner retracted the wheels to put the crib on the ground than she turned away and headed back through the huge hangar door. Charlotte looked around at the other people in the other cribs and saw a vast array of emotions. Two of the others, a young man and a slightly older woman looked terrified and hysterical. One was laying down and seemed to be asleep or unconscious and the last one was sucking on a pacifier and looked very calm. Charlotte noticed that this man, probably in his thirties, was in a very wet diaper already. After Charlotte, three more cribs were wheeled in and placed in the correct positions. These people also seemed rather panicky and disbelieving of what was happening. The hangar doors closed and left a very eerie atmosphere. The people in the cribs looked like they were making a lot of noise but thanks to the thick glass and small breathing holes it was virtually muted. There was silence for a few minutes and Charlotte felt a heightened sense of awareness as she looked around at everyone else. This was too surreal for her to have a normal reaction, she was still expecting people to come running in with camcorders and saying that it had been a prank. With an almighty roar which echoed around the large and almost empty room, Charlotte looked straight up and saw the ceiling far above them sliding open. “What the hell!?” Charlotte yelled though her voice was lost in the noise. When the ceiling was opened and the sound died down, Charlotte could see the starry sky above. It must have been the middle of the night and it looked beautiful, Charlotte was able to just appreciate the outside world for a few seconds before she was brought back to reality. “We hope you have enjoyed your time at Stork Industries.” A voice crackled from the loudspeaker system, “We wish you a happy second babyhood.” “Fuck you!” Charlotte yelled in impotent rage. A loud humming noise slowly got louder and louder until Charlotte looked up and saw something she recognised as a drone descending on the cribs. Not just one but one per person. The drones were shaped so as to look like a stork and the idea of a stork delivering a baby was lost on Charlotte who was far too panicked to think about that. The drones were very large and looked very powerful. Charlotte winced as one landed on the ceiling of her crib and she heard the same screwdriver sounds which she assumed meant she was attached to the drone. She belatedly realised what was about to happen and her eyes flew wide. “No!” Charlotte made one last desperate attempt for escape. She pushed and pulled on the bars of the crib with all of her might. She had to get out, this was her last chance. Despite all her efforts there was no movement from the bars, she was utterly trapped. The humming got suddenly louder and Charlotte watched as the crib nearest her lifted off the floor. The man in the crib looked at Charlotte as if pleading for help before he was lifted up and out of sight. One by one the cribs were lifted up the shaft and out of sight. Charlotte’s was the second last to go, she felt a shake similar to turbulence as she lifted off the ground and started ascending the concrete shaft and out into a clearing in the forest. Charlotte looked around in wonder as if hoping there was someone nearby who might be seeing what was happening but in the pitch black darkness she was fairly sure if anyone did look they would write it off as a weather balloon or something. The crib went higher and higher before starting to move horizontally. Before long, Charlotte had lost sight of the facility and she was completely on her own and naked, except for the diaper, in the flying crib. It looked like it should be cold but there seemed to be a heating system in the crib that acted as a sort of radiator, she was quite comfortable even without clothes on. Charlotte had no idea where she was being taken and after an hour or so in the air she started to become restless with just looking at the scenery. She remembered all of the things that Nanny had placed at the foot of the crib thought now was as good of a time as any to see what she had been given. Charlotte moved the bottles of milk and pacifier out of the way and grabbed the bag that had also been given to her. She emptied it out and the first thing she saw was a small tablet, the screen was turned off and Charlotte was intrigued by it. She pressed the power button and a video started playing very soon afterwards. “Hello, Charlotte.” Charlotte frowned in anger. It was Laura on the screen, “As you are no doubt aware, you have been sold to another person as a baby. We can now tell you where you will be going and who you will be staying with.” Charlotte felt her anger rise until she could feel herself shaking. “The couple that have bought you live in Bremen, Germany.” Laura continued as she read information off a piece of paper, “Paid a high price, you should be very well looked after. They are in their late twenties and have been looking forward to getting a young woman for a while.” “Germany?” Charlotte repeated in disbelief, “This crib was going all the way to Germany…” Charlotte didn’t really think about it as she felt her bladder relax and a warm flow of urine was absorbed into the padding between her legs. “The journey will take some time so you have been given enough supplies to last the whole way. Good luck.” Laura gave the camera one last smile before the screen went blank. Charlotte placed the screen to the side and looked at what else was in the crib. Some spare diapers, some wipes, a few tins of baby food. Everything a baby would need to be sustained for the journey. --- The sun came up and went back down again whilst Charlotte was over the ocean. She was slowly coming to terms with what was happening but the endless ocean was very boring to look at. It was around midday that her bowels started demanding to be released. This was a moment she had been dreading thanks to the cramped and enclosed space that she was stuck in. Charlotte waited another hour before she could hold on no longer. She laid flat on her back and raised her legs up in the air. Holding her breath, Charlotte pushed down and felt a solid log of excrement push into the waiting diaper. As soon as it was pushed out it was followed by a couple of smaller lumps that were easier to pass. Charlotte banged her head on the mattress in frustration as she came to tears for what felt like the hundredth time on this journey. This was hell and she knew her destination would be no better for her. After a few minutes, Charlotte undid the tapes of the diaper and quickly cleaned herself up. She folded the used padding into a ball and tried to stuff in the corner, out of sight and out of mind. Looking at the other diapers without appetite she smiled to herself as she decided on rebelling in a minor way and staying naked. Charlotte laid down to sleep and woke up to see sun going down and, in the distance, the sight of land. A sight that thrilled Charlotte as much as it scared her. Grabbing one of the bottles, Charlotte drained the whole thing in one go to quench her thirst. She followed that up by holding her nose and forcing down the baby food, something that at least filled her stomach. When Charlotte crossed over on to land again it was very dark and she was sure there was no way anyone would be able to see her again. Another forlorn hope crushed by Stork Industries preparation. After a few more hours, Charlotte felt her bladder aching for release and knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it for much longer. The diapers that were sitting in the corner furthest away from her seemed more and more tempting as she fought for control. Eventually it became too much and despite how bad she felt about voluntarily putting a diaper on she knew that wetting the mattress would be a lot more uncomfortable. She opened up one of the diapers and awkwardly taped it on. It wasn’t a moment too soon either as only seconds after Charlotte had the diaper on she released her bladder and flooded it. A full bladder of urine caused the padding to swell up and by the time she was done she felt soaking wet. As terrified and panicked as she felt, Charlotte was also very bored with nothing to do but contemplate her future. “Hello, Charlotte.” Laura’s voice suddenly came from the screen again causing Charlotte to rush over and pick it up. Charlotte flipped the tablet over and looked at the screen. “Your journey is fast approaching it’s end. You will soon be with your new family and you will be starting your new journey as a baby.” Laura smiled disarmingly as Charlotte felt the familiar feelings of panic rising again, “Your new family do not speak English and they requested a baby that didn’t speak German.” “They asked you to be in the dress provided when you arrived and you will be expected to put it on before landing.” Laura continued. Charlotte looked at the frilly pink dress and shook her head as if Laura could her. There was no way she would put that on, she planned to get away from these Germans as soon as possible, and she certainly didn’t plan on pleasing them. Soon the screen turned off and just a few moments later, Charlotte noticed the drone was descending. She looked down to see a small town in the darkness. This was it. Touch down was in the back yard of a large house. The lights were on and almost as soon as the drone touched down, Charlotte saw two people appear at the back door. They looked hopeful and expectant, for all the world like expectant parents about to meet their new baby. Charlotte pushed up against the bars furthest from the couple that were tentatively coming outside. She suddenly realised she was still naked and wished she had covered up with that dress. The drone disconnected from the crib and just as quickly as it had landed, it lifted off and headed into the darkness leaving Charlotte alone in the silence and darkness of this German couples back yard. “Grüße.” The German man walked towards the crib. “Listen. This is all a mistake.” Charlotte replied quickly, “You have to let me out and take me to the American embassy.” “Ruhig, klein.” The German man said with a laugh. Charlotte felt him lower the wheels of the cribs and start wheeling Charlotte towards the house. “Please… Let me out…” Charlotte started crying despite herself. “Sie riecht.” The German woman said as she held her nose when Charlotte passed into the house, “Du reinigst das.” “Ja, ja, ja…” The man repeated. He planted a kiss on the German woman as he walked by. Charlotte didn’t understand anything that was happening and felt completely lost as she was wheeled through the house with the German man talking incessantly despite Charlotte having no idea what he was saying. The German man smiled at Charlotte like a new father and pushed open a door at the end of a hallway. The crib was wheeled in and Charlotte felt her heart sink. The room was the perfect nursery. Toys were everywhere, a changing table, a space for the crib that was filled when she was pushed over to it. It would be everything a little girl could dream of. “I’m… Daddy.” The German said in very broken English, “You… Baby.” Charlotte started sobbing as the glass panels lowered and Daddy began unscrewing the ceiling of the crib. She knew these people wouldn’t let her go. Unless she could escape herself she was going to be these people’s baby forever.

Trapped in this bizarre nursery, Charlotte faces her kidnapper in a battle of wills and tries to work out what is happening in this strange situation. Will Charlotte be able to resist the robotic kidnapper or will she be overpowered? This post has been available on my Patreon page for the last week and every story post I make is available there earlier than anywhere else with a $5 monthly subscription. There is also a $10 option which gives early access plus exclusive stories. There are other options and rewards available and can be found at the following link: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 A huge thank you to every one of my patrons who allow me to keep up my schedule of posting every four days: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Sophie S, Aki T, Scy T, Joseph D, Persi S, Ceneroz, Rob, Drew J, Kyle L, Keen L, Darrell, Jack C, Frank S, S Millard, Cheryl C, Carlota C, Alex W, Ron M, M, Tsidt, Britnee L, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Cole T, Babybb, J Land, Tim F, Chris B, WillNotWill, Jerry J, Charlie S, Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, Matthew, John D, Kimberley S, Cole S, Cole, Art M, Guilyn, Erik P, Epsilon89, Bojack D, Shihouin10, Scott S, Diapering Daddy, Miguel A, James B, A Random Patreon, Eric C, Ben R, Lin J, Ben F, Henry C, Bob, Michelle G, Kent J --- Like a prisoner of war, Charlotte felt like she had a duty to resist her captors and the first thing that came to mind was to take off these ridiculous baby clothes. She reached down with her hands and unsnapped her onesie. She placed her hands on the tapes of her diaper and was about to pull when the lights suddenly turned on. Charlotte had to shield her eyes from the sudden bright light and she toppled over backwards on her still unsteady legs. She landed on her puffy bottom with legs splayed obscenely wide open for a second. She had clearly got their attention. The door that Nanny had disappeared through opened again and the robot marched straight back into the room and towards the crib. “Settle down, little one.” The Nanny said as it reached the crib. Charlotte looked up from the crib into its cold, robotic eyes. She felt fear but also anger towards this thing that had kidnapped her. For a second she just stared at the Nanny until she defiantly started reaching down to her diaper again. Like a flash, the side of the crib dropped and the Nanny reached in. The cold and metallic hands grabbed Charlotte’s wrist before she could process what was happening. She struggled but the robot seemed infinitely more powerful than she was. “You are being naughty.” The Nanny said with no strain in its voice. It was as if this was no struggle at all for it. Charlotte found her arms pulled above her head and get strapped down. The leather restraints were around Charlotte’s wrists and were attached at the other end to the bars of the crib. “Stop it!” Charlotte yelled with a mixture of panic and anger. Once Charlotte’s wrists were restrained there was nothing that would stop Nanny from grabbing her ankles and restraining them in the same way. Charlotte found herself pinned down to the bed and unable to move any of her limbs a significant amount. To stop Charlotte’s shouting and screaming the Nanny brought forward a pacifier gag. Charlotte clamped her mouth closed when she realised what was happening. She was determined to resist this unlawful treatment. “Baby will be quiet.” Nanny said without emotion. The robot pinched Charlotte’s nose and made it impossible for her to breath. Charlotte struggled for a second before she was forced to open her mouth, as soon as the gap was there Nanny pushed the pacifier into the woman’s mouth and tied the gag around the back of her head. Charlotte’s voice was completely muffled and her futile attempt at resistance was over before it had even started. What she had hoped to achieve, she wasn’t sure but she knew she was now in a worse position than she had been before. “If baby is good she gets rewards. If baby is bad she gets punished.” The Nanny said simply. Charlotte watched through eyes swimming with tears as the robot turned and walked away leaving Charlotte tied up and gagged in the her crib. It was a difficult night. Charlotte found it very hard to relax in such an unusual place whilst being tightly tied down. The thick padding between her legs didn’t help matters either, it all felt so unnatural that she couldn’t relax even when she wanted to. She knew that sleep would be a good idea to give her a chance to be rested if an opportunity to escape came along but she found everything about her current position prevented any rest. Charlotte must have eventually passed out from exhaustion because the next thing she remembered was waking up to a bright room. As far as she could tell, she was underground and there were no windows to let in any kind of natural light. Instead, the lights in the room seemed to slowly get brighter as if to mimic the sun coming up. Charlotte opened her eyes and remembered where she was almost immediately. Her wrists and ankles felt a little sore from where they had been rubbing against the leather straps that were holding her down. Charlotte’s jaw was also very sore from being forced slightly open all night. She had never had a less welcome wake up call. The door to the nursery opened and Charlotte turned her head to see Nanny coming into the room. Charlotte felt that deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach as she waited for the robot to make its way over to the crib. “Are you going to be a good girl?” Nanny asked as she stared down at the woman. Charlotte didn’t respond. She couldn’t talk because of the gag but she didn’t want to nod or shake her head either. She didn’t want to give the robot the satisfaction. “Are you going to be a good girl?” Nanny repeated in exactly the same voice. Charlotte knew the Nanny wanted her to nod but the stubbornness that so often helped her when interviewing people was now a hindrance. Despite knowing that it would help her position to just indicate that she would be compliant, Charlotte just couldn’t bring herself to do it. The Nanny seemingly gave up on waiting for an answer from the young woman. The Nanny reached into the crib and for a second, Charlotte thought that she was going to be let out of the crib anyway. The Nanny took the pacifier and pulled it out of the gag. Charlotte gratefully flexed the muscles in her mouth as the pacifier was removed. “I’m a journ-Mmhmm.” Charlotte had started trying to argue again when she was summarily cut off by a clear tube with a teat on the end that was fastened to the gag. Charlotte felt the tube push into her mouth and just like the pacifier before it she found it was impossible to push out. Charlotte would have sworn in surprise if she had been able to as she followed the tube and found it coming from the Nanny’s chest. “Mmmm!” Charlotte mumbled around the tube. She watched in revulsion as a stream of white liquid started coming down the clear cylinder. When the liquid reached the end and started squirting into Charlotte’s mouth, she had no choice but to swallow it down. It was cold milk which was actually quite refreshing to the imprisoned girl. She tried to forget where it was coming from and everything else, Charlotte looked up to the ceiling and just focused on the rhythmic swallowing. By the time Charlotte had swallowed the last of the milk she felt absolutely full. She felt like her tummy was sloshing around as the milk filled her whole body. The Nanny reached down and pulled the tube out of Charlotte’s mouth and the pacifier was put back in. Charlotte could do little more than moan from the fullness in her tummy. The Nanny turned around and left the room again. Charlotte watched her go in forced silence as she tried to take in what was happening. Was she being tortured? Were they trying to get information from her? After quarter of an hour Charlotte was reaching her breaking point. She could feel herself increasingly desperately needing the bathroom. The milk that was still making her feel bloated was now filling her bladder. The diaper between her legs was becoming an increasingly attractive proposition as she felt an urgency developing. Charlotte was still trying to work out what she was going to do when her body made her mind up for her. With wide eyes and blushing cheeks, Charlotte felt the diaper around her groin suddenly warming and the pressure in her bladder decreasing. Shaking her head in disbelief, Charlotte tried to tense her muscles and cut the flow of urine but found that she couldn’t do it. Why was she wetting with so little control? The warmth slowly spread around the padding even after Charlotte’s bladder had finished emptying. A strange tickling warmth spread around the back of the journalist’s diaper and she squirmed slightly in the warm and wet underwear. Charlotte had no idea how long she had to lay there with the heavy diaper pressing against her skin but it felt like it was at least an hour. She grew increasingly frustrated at being trapped in such a state and angry that she was forced to lay in her own urine like this. With nothing else to occupy her mind, Charlotte thought back to the video that had played earlier. It had talked about childless couples and people volunteering to help them… Charlotte thought about the diaper and the nursery and slowly started putting two and two together. She was going to be sent to a couple to be a baby! Charlotte pulled at the restraints again in desperation. She could feel her heart hammering but she knew she had to keep her cool. If she got a chance to escape she had to be ready to take it. Getting emotional wouldn’t help. It wasn’t easy to hold back the panicked tears though. The door to the nursery opened again and Charlotte turned her head to see Nanny walking across the room in that same slow and deliberate style. Charlotte was trembling slightly as she tried to keep a lid on the impossible combination of thoughts and feelings that were running through her head. The Nanny walked up to the side of the crib and looked down. “Are you going to be a good girl?” Nanny asked for the third time. Charlotte paused as her brain fought her heart for the answer to give. Her brain told her that she had to get out of this crib and that meant responding positively to the question. Her heart told her to resist. “Are you going to be a good girl?” Nanny repeated yet again. Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed before nodding in a defeated fashion. She felt a tear fall down the side of her face as the Nanny leaned in and took the gag away. Charlotte was grateful to regain her limbs as well when the leather restraints were removed. For the first time in hours she could move. The Nanny lifted Charlotte out of the crib and over to the changing table. Charlotte could feel the strong arms of the robot wrapped around her. It was almost like being in a harness as Charlotte was unable to push herself away from Nanny’s chest. She felt defeated, like her resistance to this machine was useless. It had already made her wet herself and it was entirely in control of her, Charlotte knew the situation was totally out of her control and she was very scared at where this was all going. “Be a good girl and you won’t be restrained.” Nanny said as she laid Charlotte down on the changing table. Charlotte’s body wanted to run but she made herself lay still as the robot pulled the snaps of her pink onesie apart. The material that was tightly stretched over the woman’s body sprung up to reveal the wet diaper underneath. “Who’s a wet little girl?” Nanny said the sort of things you would say to a baby as you changed their diaper and yet she didn’t say it in that the high pitched sing-song voice you would expect. It was the same emotionless voice that sent chills down Charlotte’s spine. Charlotte could feel herself turning red as she felt the spongy padding pushed against her body by the robot who was apparently checking the diaper’s condition. Charlotte wondered what purpose there was for this other than humiliation, it was obvious the diaper was wet. It wasn’t like she had much choice as she was tied down in the crib for so long. Charlotte laid her head back and closed her eyes as the robot’s hands moved up the smooth plastic and pulled the tapes off the front of the diaper. She felt like the Nanny was taking a deliberately long time to do this. Was embarrassment part of the process? The front of the diaper was lowered and cold air made Charlotte jump as the warm confines were pulled away from her crotch. The room’s normal temperature felt a little chilly after sitting in her warm urine for as long as she had. “Hey! Careful…” Charlotte exclaimed when Nanny had suddenly begun wiping her private areas with some very cold wet wipes. Charlotte felt the used diaper pulled away and was saddened, though not surprised, when she watched the robotic caretaker begin to unfold a new diaper. She wanted to fight but remembered that the only thing that would get her was more time restrained and if she wanted to get away from this place she couldn’t be tied down. The new diaper was slipped underneath Charlotte’s butt and the front pulled up between her legs. The soft and fluffy disposable underwear gently brushed Charlotte as it was pulled up snuggly and taped closed. The process that made Charlotte blush so much was completed when the onesie was snapped closed again. The diaper was pushed up against her body by the stretchy material and made it impossible for her to forget what she was wearing. The Nanny lifted Charlotte down from the table and placed her on the floor. Charlotte wobbled slightly and used the changing table to balance herself. Her legs hadn’t been needed or used in a long while and they felt a little weak as she put her weight on them. “Play nice until lunchtime.” Nanny ordered. “Wait…” Charlotte half-shouted as the robot began marching towards the exit, “Listen, I don’t know who you guys are or anything about you… Just let me go and I promise that I won’t tell anyone what’s going on here.” The robot looked at Charlotte for another few seconds before turning towards the doorway again. It seemed entirely unmoved by Charlotte’s rather panicky plea. “Wait!” Charlotte shouted again. This time the panic she felt was mirrored by her voice, “People will know I’m missing. Let me go or…” Charlotte had been watching Nanny slowly advance towards her. She thought maybe she was finally persuading her captors to release her. She was shocked when the robot bent down and placed a small latex pacifier into her mouth. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” Nanny said as it turned again towards the door. Charlotte watched the machine turned and leave the room in shock. The door swung closed behind Nanny and the sound of a heavy bolt locked the room behind it. Charlotte looked to the floor next to her and viciously spat out the soother that she had been given. “Bitch…” Charlotte muttered darkly.

Deep into the building, Charlotte has discovered dark secrets but she must press on to find out what is going on. Is each step taking her closer to journalistic superstardom or is she walking deeper and deeper into a trap? This update has been available on my Patreon for one week and is now posted publicly. For $5 you can see all my updates a week early (I post an update every four days) and for $10 you get early access plus exclusive stories (There are 15 Patreon exclusive story updates). There are more tiers and rewards, see my Patreon page for details. https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 A massive thank you to everyone who reads and comments on my stories, especially those who support me financially and allow me to keep writing at the pace I do: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Sophie S, Aki T, C Dom, Scy T, Joseph D, Persi S, Ceneroz, Rob, Drew J, Kyle L, Keen L, Darrell, Jack C, Frank S, S Millard, Cheryl C, Carlota C, Alex W, Ron M, M, Tsidt, Britnee L, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Cole T, Babybb, J Land, Tim F, Cvsflip105, Chris B, WillNotWill, Jerry J, Charlie S, Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, Matthew, John D, Cole S, Cole, Art M, Guilyn, Erik P, Epsilon89, Bojack D, Shihouin10, Scott S, Diapering Daddy, Miguel A, James B, A Random Patreon, Eric C, Ben R, Lin J, Ben F, Henry C, Bob, Michelle G, Kent J --- With no warning and a loud echoing sound that must have woken up the whole factory, the door Charlotte had walked through slammed shut. “AH!” Charlotte let out a shrill scream at the unexpected noise as she spun around and ran back to the door. Charlotte felt along the door but couldn’t feel a handle or any other way to wrench the door open. It was a very smooth surface and the scared journalist couldn’t find any way to open it. She swore under her breath repeatedly as she started panicking. From somewhere above her, Charlotte heard something like a generator starting up. She looked up at the ceiling just as lights started clicking on along the ceiling. Charlotte had to shield her eyes until they adjusted to the new light level and when she could finally see the door she had been trying to wrench open she saw there was no way to open it from here without a key card. With a shiver of foreboding, Charlotte realised that there was no way back now, she could only move forward. Turning back to face the room at large was no more welcoming for the young woman as it was empty except for a conveyor belt with a board at the end of it. The belt disappeared through a hole in the wall. When it didn’t seem like anything else was happening, Charlotte walked slowly forward to examine the conveyor. When she looked through the hole in the wall she saw that it curved out of view with no idea where it led. Charlotte was just putting her camera to her face to document this strange machine when she felt a sudden push on her back. The shove was strong enough to force the woman on to the conveyor belt which started moving immediately. “What the hell!” Charlotte screamed as she turned around just in time to see a metallic hand where she had just been standing. Before Charlotte could process that image or recover her balance she found the conveyor belt going around a corner and taking the hand out of view. It was moving fast enough that Charlotte was unable to scramble back the way she came and when the belt tilted downwards Charlotte tumbled further down. “No!” The camera that had all of Charlotte’s evidence suddenly slipped out of her grip and it fell to the side of the belt. There goes the evidence she had. When the belt finally levelled off, Charlotte hit the back of her head on the hard surface below her and was temporarily dazed. She was travelling feet first along the conveyor and before she could regain her senses she saw a much bigger machine in front of her. “Wait…” Charlotte tried to get off the belt but in her slowed state she was unable to move in time and she was taken into the large machine where the belt finally stopped. A small door closed behind Charlotte’s head and she was totally encased in the machine with little room to move, there was roughly a couple of feet of room each side of the journalist to move. “Hel-” Charlotte started calling for help as panic overwhelmed her but she was cut off almost immediately. A pole rapidly extended down from the top of the machine and quickly pushed a pacifier into Charlotte’s mouth. The latex teat was huge and filled her mouth to effectively silence her. It was strapped to her head by what felt like a leather belt that wrapped around the back of her head. Charlotte’s eyes flew wide and she breathed heavily as a screen above her head suddenly switched on. What was happening here!? “Hello!” An overly cheerful young woman was looking at the camera and waving, “You have been selected by Stork Industries to take part in our adoption programme.” Charlotte tried to hammer on the door by her head to get out of the machine but it wouldn’t budge. She was panicking now, utterly trapped inside whatever was happening and becoming part of the process she was here to investigate. She had so little room to manoeuvre, the machine made her feel like she was in a coffin. “We are sure you are very excited about the coming opportunity.” The woman on the screen continued with her fake smile, “The chance to make other people very happy. The chance to bring joy to those who will love you.” Charlotte was left frozen by these terrifying assumptions. She hadn’t volunteered for any of this, none of the people in the cage had volunteered for this. Charlotte felt her mind feeling cloudy and her muscles growing weaker, she was alert but found that resisting was getting harder. “Right now we are releasing a relaxing gas into the air around you. We know that despite your excitement these can be scary first steps. In a few moments the machine around you will start the process of preparing you for your new life. Stork Industries wishes you the best of luck in all your future endeavours.” The woman on the screen concluded and the screen faded to black with the woman waving and smiling toothily. After a few moments of silence, Charlotte could hear and feel the machine around her starting to hum and vibrate slightly. Charlotte wanted to punch her way out of the machine but the gas that was silently surrounding her was forcing the young woman to lay still. Charlotte was a scared spectator to the things that were happening to her and as the vibrating and humming grew more intense she closed her eyes in fear of what might happen. Charlotte felt her clothes suddenly loosen and when she opened her eyes she was shocked to see her clothes dropping off of her. They had all been cut open, everything from her black sweater to her underwear. She was left completely naked. Her trembling body embarrassingly exposed as the tattered remnants of her clothes fell the ground around her. A tube opened to the side of Charlotte and she felt a strong suction as her clothes were sucked away. She was left naked and alone inside this scary looking capsule and despite feeling overwhelmingly panicked Charlotte could do nothing except get taken for the ride. The conveyor belt moved as the end of the capsule nearest Charlotte’s feet opened up. She felt herself moving down the belt before stopping again. Charlotte couldn’t raise her head, she wanted to but her muscles just wouldn’t respond. “Time to dress you appropriately.” Charlotte heard a strange female voice from by her feet. It sounded almost like an alien, they said the right words but it sounded so strange that they couldn’t possibly have come from a human mouth. Charlotte felt her legs get lifted up and folded back against the cold metal of the machine. She could feel something cold and stiff holding her legs in that position, she could see a hand, she guessed it was supposed to be a hand at least. The metal claws looked more like the sort of thing you saw in an arcade cabinet than something at the end of an arm. “What…” Charlotte tried to speak but could barely whisper. Charlotte felt her legs get lowered but something was different. Instead of the hard rubber conveyor belt she now felt some very soft padding. It was as if someone had placed a small pillow underneath her butt. It was certainly more comfortable than the conveyor at least. Charlotte still couldn’t see who or what was doing this. Whilst her lower half was outside the tight confines of the machine her upper half was still inside and her view was extremely obstructed. It was only as Charlotte felt the cushion pulled up between her legs that she realised what it was. “Stop… What’s going on!?” Charlotte’s strength was slowly started to return but her weak leg kicking wasn’t able to hinder what was happening. The front of the padded material was pulled up and smoothed over Charlotte’s tummy. It felt bulky and much thicker than the underwear that Charlotte was used to. Any doubt in her mind melted away as it was confirmed what she was being dressed in. “A diaper!?” Charlotte whined, “No! I don’t want that! Give me proper clothes and let me go!” If anything could hear the girl’s impassioned claims for freedom they weren’t moved to help as Charlotte heard tapes being pulled. The diaper, there could be little doubt that it was anything else, was pulled tightly around Charlotte’s hips and the young reporter felt the tapes pushed against the front of the diaper. There was a momentary pause where Charlotte could move slightly and heard a distinct crinkle coming from her crotch. She felt tears prickling her eyes as she fretted about what was going to happen next. For the first time she regretted her natural curiosity, something that had been very useful as a journalist had now become a curse. Charlotte felt herself being pulled down the conveyor again and finally she emerged fully from the claustrophobic machine. “What the hell!?” Charlotte exclaimed as her eyes adjusted to the more brightly lit room that she had been pulled into. The room was a huge nursery. Charlotte had worked in a day care whilst in high school for some extra shopping money and this room was like a giant version of what she had worked in. She could clearly see the changing table, the crib and seemingly endless amounts of toys, teddy bears and other baby paraphernalia. It was surreal to suddenly go from the espionage mission to this setting. It was then that Charlotte’s eyes fell on the one figure in the room apart from herself. She had to cover her mouth to stop from screaming as she looked up from her horizontal position at what she could only describe as a synthetic human, a machine made to look like a person. It was beyond the uncanny valley. “Do not struggle.” The machine said in a strange cadence, “You will be dressed appropriately.” The robot was clearly designed to look female. Its skin was pale and lifeless but it covered a slender and busty body. The face looked down at Charlotte without expression. Its eyes looking dull and tired and its mouth in a seemingly permanent half-smile. It was very creepy. “W-What are you?” Charlotte asked in horrified fascination. “I am the Nanny.” Was the stilted response from the figure in front of Charlotte. “I’m… I’m a journalist!” Charlotte exclaimed, “I’m reporting on this place and I demand to be taken to the owner of this facility… And also to be dressed appropriately!” “Your former life doesn’t matter now. I will dress you appropriately.” The Nanny replied. Charlotte watched the robot reach under the table and pull up a piece of clothing that looked very familiar and very alien at the same time. It was a long shirt, pink in colour, with snaps at the bottom. It was yet another item that reminded Charlotte of her time working in a nursery. “I’m not putting a onesie on.” Charlotte said simply. She tried sitting up for the first time but found that she was still too weak. “You will be a good girl and wear what you are told.” The Nanny replied simply. Charlotte wanted to resist and she tried really hard to fight the Nanny which started manipulating her body to put her in the thin onesie. Charlotte was getting increasingly frustrated and angry. Tears fell down her cheek as she blushed at this fresh humiliation. She impotently tried to get her muscles to move but found them to be too weak. Charlotte found herself being moved around like a doll as the Nanny slipped each of her limbs through the holes and pulled the stretchy material over her head. Charlotte could do little more than scowl at the uncaring machine as it went about its task in a cold and calculating manner. Once the onesie was on her, Charlotte could feel the snaps between her legs being fastened together. The soft padding of the diaper was pushed up into the journalist’s crotch as the stretchy onesie hugged Charlotte’s body. The Nanny picked Charlotte up with an ease that surprised the young woman and she was carried over to the large crib. The nanny held Charlotte against her chest in the same way a mother would hold a baby. Charlotte was gently lowered into the baby bed as she looked around for a way out. Apart from the conveyor belt there was one other door but it looked like it was very securely sealed. “I’m not supposed to be here!” Charlotte yelled at the robot as it stood up and left Charlotte alone in the bed. The Nanny didn’t respond. Charlotte watched it press a button that looked like a light switch and a television screen popped out of the wall it was embedded in. Charlotte saw four tubes, one attached to each corner of the screen, they came out of the wall behind the screen and moved over to the crib. Charlotte momentarily forgot her own fear as she watched this incredible machinery in action. “Hey! Come back!” Charlotte shouted. She had looked away to see Nanny opening the secure door and leaving the room. Charlotte was alone. The room was silent for a few seconds. Charlotte wondered briefly if this could be a practical joke but it was far too elaborate for that, the technology on display was stunning. Whatever this was, it was a very advanced operation. Just as Charlotte was about to give up hope on anything happening, the screen suddenly turned on to reveal the same woman from the screen in the machine smiling at her. Charlotte felt an innate hatred of this complete stranger who seemed to mock her suffering with that smile on that face covered in make-up. “Hello again.” The woman said with enthusiasm, “This room will be your home for a few days to allow you to adjust to your new role. You will receive mental and physical training to prepare you for the next step in your journey. Stork Industries thanks you for volunteering for such a noble cause.” “What cause!?” Charlotte shouted at the screen uselessly, “I didn’t volunteer for anything! No one here volunteered for this!” “As you know, Stork Industries supplies couples who wish to have a baby with their own adult baby and you are the latest in a long line of people who have been volunteered into the program. Now get your rest, little one. Tomorrow will be a long day.” The screen switched off as soon as the woman was done talking and the screen was pulled back by its tubes and returned to its original position. “There’s been a mistake!” Charlotte shouted to no one in particular. She was sobbing now as she still couldn’t move her limbs all that well, “I’m not supposed to be here!” When the screen had returned to its original position the lights in the nursery began to dim. Soon the room was almost pitch black apart from a little nightlight next to the large crib. On the ceiling were little pictures of stars and moons. Charlotte sobbed in the dark as she slowly felt her motor functions returning. Soon she was able to stand up in the crib and lean against the bars. The room was very still and very quiet. The only sounds that Charlotte could hear was her own crinkling. Charlotte rubbed her tear-filled eyes and shouted for help. She yelled into the darkness and hoped that somebody would be able to hear and come to help her. She wasn’t supposed to be here, she hadn’t volunteered for anything, and none of the people in the cage upstairs had volunteered for anything. This was false imprisonment! “I’m a journalist! Help!” Charlotte shouted. She could feel herself shaking with fear as she pulled on the bars in an attempt to force her way out. Charlotte tried to use the bars to climb over the restrictive toddler bed but found that the metal bars were far too slippery to climb. “Let me out!” Charlotte shouted into the darkness. The anger inside Charlotte started forcing its way to the surface. No one should be allowed to imprison someone like this with no reason. Charlotte was guilty of nothing except for investigative journalism. This “Stork Industries” organisation had no right to imprison her or anyone else.

Hello everyone. This is my first story attempt. Not much, but I may try to continue it later with actual character development and such. I know its short, but let me know what you think. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the baby powder that lingered in the room. She looks down at the thick diaper that she now wore snugly around her waist. Rolling over in her bed, she grabs her pacifier off of her night stand and quickly pops it into her mouth. A slight smile creeps across her face as she feels a small cramp ripple through her abdomen. Her breathing coming quickly now, she climbs out of her bed and stands beside it. After a deep breath, she relaxes and feels her aching bladder release. A sigh escapes from behind her pacifier as the thick diaper she is wearing swells from her flood. Shuddering from pleasure, she feels a pool form in the bottom of the diaper, caressing her with its warmth just before the diaper eagerly pulls it away. She slides her hand down and lightly rubs the front of her diaper, feeling the swelling material and the growing warmth. Leaning forward, she presses her diaper into the mattress, sending thrills of excitement through her aroused body. Her body finally ends the heavy stream, and she feels the weight of her soaked diaper pulling downward on her hips. Another cramp reminds her of her intentions. Straightening up with a satisfied sigh, she walks from her room, a slight waddle to her gait. A short time later she climbs back into her plush bed, now carrying a large bottle of warmed milk. As she begins to suckle on her treat, she can feel her swollen diaper, heavy from her wetting, warming her and again increasing her arousal. A sharp cramp causes her to roll into a fetal position, and she momentarily fears losing control. She stays in the curled position as the cramp passes, and resumes suckling her warm bottle. Once the bottle is empty, she rolls onto her back and again feels the need to soak her diaper. Placing her pacifier back between her lips, she relaxes, knowing that the thick diaper can absorb another wetting. Feeling the hot stream course down her and into the bottom of the diaper, she shudders and places one hand on the front of her diaper, applying slight pressure, while the other hand begins to rub her breast. Her intense feelings of pleasure are again interrupted by a cramp in her abdomen. Reflexively, she pulls her knees slightly up towards her chest, but in doing so she feels her control over her bowels begin to fail. Putting her feet down but keeping her knees bent, she concentrates on keeping control. She fights, feeling her warm mess begin to slowly exit her body. Frowning, she clenches her muscles, stopping the untimely mess. She waits, hoping the pressure and cramp will pass. After several moments, she realizes that she is losing control again as she feels another wave of pressure in her bowels. The moment she has been waiting for has arrived. This wave of pressure cannot be held back, cannot be stopped. She knows this, and time seems to slow as she feels her body betray her wishes. A moan of pleasure rushes past her lips and she pulls her knees up as her body begins to slowly expel the warm mess without her consent. Bathed in ecstasy, she again rubs her breasts as she feels the enormous poop begin to push past her cheeks. The mess soon encounters the soft diaper, and as it is pulled tight from her position, stops. Another cramp tries to force the mess out, but fails. She turns over, climbing onto her knees and holding onto the headrest. Leaning forward just slightly, she gives a push, and resumes pooping in her diaper. Completely absorbed by the moment, she moans again, once again feeling the poop encounter resistance from the bottom of the diaper. An involuntary push keeps the mess flowing. She sucks furiously on her pacifier, hearing the diaper crinkle and feeling the bottom of the diaper begin to swell outward. The warm mess continues its way into her diaper, now beginning to spread in all directions. The load shifts inside the diaper, now pulling the swollen diaper down. The poop accelerates, coming quickly before suddenly stopping. Sucking in a deep breath through her pacifier, she spreads her knees slightly as she pushes again, intent on finishing her poop. She is instantly rewarded with another large amount of poop that begins to force its way up the back of her diaper. Continuing to spread her knees, the diaper encounters the bed, slightly pressing the warm mess onto her butt, again sending waves of arousal through her body. With a final push, the last of the large mess rushes into the waiting diaper, now spreading towards the front of her diaper. She waits a moment, thoroughly enjoying the mix of emotions. She was done, and could now smell her mess. She feels naughty, smelling her mess. She loves it. Rubbing her rock hard nipples with the palms of her hands, she feels a trickle of warm pee run down her and into the waiting diaper, mixing with the waiting mass of poop. Arching her back slightly, she spreads her knees farther apart, feeling the mess slowly spread inside of her diaper until she is sitting on the bed. Unable to contain her arousal any longer she begins rocking her hips, grinding herself into the diaper. She takes one hand from her breasts and uses it to rub the front of her now soaked and messy diaper. An orgasm builds inside of her as her breathing becomes rapid and she pants through her pacifier. Wanting more, she stops and retrieves a vibrating massager from beside her bed. Leaving it off, she places the massager under her diaper and resumes her grinding, faster and harder than before. She loves the feelings she has of her butt slipping through the poop inside of the diaper, of the pressure of the massager under the diaper, of her palm against her breast. She rocks back, feeling the mess squelch further up the back of her diaper. With that feeling, she pushes her butt further into the diaper, simultaneously turning the massager on full, triggering the long awaited release almost instantly. Grabbing her breast firmly with her free hand, she throws her head back as her body rocks with the force of her orgasm. She furiously grinds her diaper against the massager, shuddering as the poop smears inside of her diaper and her orgasm flows through her body. As the orgasm begins to fade, she falls onto her side, and rolls onto her back, wanting even more. She grabs the massager and rubs it over the outside of her diaper as she sucks wildly on her pacifier. Using her other hand to roughly massage her breast, she focuses on the vibrations pounding through the messy diaper, and it takes only moments before a second orgasm courses through her. She writhes on the bed, in ecstasy as her diaper and its contents slide deliciously over her most sensitive areas. As the second orgasm fades into a warm memory, she turns the massager off and begins to catch her breath. Her breathing eventually slows, and she sits up, looking at her diaper. It sits heavily between her legs. The padding underneath the plastic is swollen and broken apart from the abuse. She climbs out of bed, and looking over her shoulder, examines her bottom in the reflection of her large dressing mirror. She can see yellow padding and shades of brown coming nearly to the top of the diaper. She can feel the mess all over her butt, and savors the feeling as she clenches her cheeks together. A rush of excitement passes through her body. She turns, climbing back into her bed. As she slides under the sheet, she feels the diaper and its contents shift wonderfully. With a sigh, she smiles, knowing that her husband would soon be home, finding her in her very messy diaper. She feels arousal coming fast as she wonders if he is going to reward her or punish her for her diaper escapade, and can't help but get excited about both...

Chapter 6: Inspiration Megan woke up a few minutes later, seconds before her mother had arrived. The rest of the day went as normal as most days. Homework, dinner, tv, bed. Not much happend in Megan's household. Megan and Samantha didn't talk the rest of the night; everything just felt to awkward. Megan climbed up to her room. She got their and layed on her bed. She pulled all her clothing off and began to climb under the sheets. Suddenly, she heard a stream of water and began to grow warm. She looked down and saw her Pamper begin to grow discolored. She was pissing herself again. She finished and, angry, ripped off her diaper and threw it at the wall. She collasped on the ground and quietly sobbed. What was she going to do? Suddenly, Kyra thought of an idea. Maybe wearing the diaper caused her subconscious to use it. If she wore a pair of panties, maybe she'd be back to normal! Now inspired, Kyra got up off the ground and jumped in the shower. When she came out, she went and grabbed a pair of pink panties with white trim. She slid them on and examined herself in the mirror. She still looked hot, but she felt different. It was her first pair of panties in almost three years, and she missed the feeling of the diaper. But Megan convinced herself it was for the best. She got into bed and quickly fell asleep.

Chapter 4: Babysitting Megan returned home to find her mother getting ready to leave. "Oh Megan, thank god! I have to run to the store and pick up a few things. Do you mind taking care of Max while I'm gone?" Megan squirmed, her wet Pull Up beginning to tickle. She wanted out of it. "Umm, sure Mom." "Thank you Megan, you're a lifesaver," she kissed Megan on the forehead as she grabbed her purse. "I'll be back in half an hour." She walked out of the door. Megan sighed. "Love you too." She walked up to her brothers room and saw him standing in his crib. He smiled as she walked in. "Well, at least someones happy to see me," Megan said as she grabbed her brother and lifted him up. "Let's go to the living room." She placed her brother in his playpen and sat down on the couch. Suddenly, she remembered her condition; she needed a change. As her brother played with his toys, Megan ran up and grabbed a Pamper and some diaper powder. She went to her brothers room and grabbed wto wipes. She went back downstairs and, in front of her two year old brother, changed her Pamper. It felt weird to use the wipes; Megan had never had to do it before. But she figured it out eventually. After she was in a comfy new diaper, she went to put her pants back on. She caught a whift of her brother's diaper as she passed by. She bent over and checked it. It was a mess. She sighed. Why couldn't he of done it BEFORE she went back downstairs? She begrudgingly walked back up. In her brothers room, she only picked up a diaper. She figured she could use her baby powder. But as she bent over, she began to hear a stream erupt from her pants. She heard a hiss as it hit the corner of her diaper. To her horror, she was once again urinating in her pants. Even worse, she had peed no longer then half an hour ago! But before she could react, a new sensation hit her. A dazzling wet fart erupted from the back of her diaper. She knew what was about to occur, bur she was parlyzed. The piss stream stopped. Megan involuntarily stuck her ass out, preparing for the worse. Another fart, this one bigger. The next one and, finally, the poop began to edge its way out. She farted again, and the mass grew bigger. It began to spread across her butt. She began to sob. In the course of one day, Megan had wet in her sleep, peed her pants, and was now pooping her Pamper. It was horrible. It took about five minutes for it all to come out. Her hands trembled as she reached to grab her buttocks. She squeezed and felt nothing but poop. Her diaper was sagging, and deathly close to breaking. When Megan bought a size to small, she never planned for this. Her diaper was sagging about three inches. She felt she had three potatoes down her Pamper. In addition, she was all wet. She felt more disgusted then she ever had in her life. She heard Max begin to cry. She forgot she was going to change him. She went back downstairs, her butt sagging close to the brink. Megan sniffed in the air and realized she smelled awful. She would handle herself after Max. She bent down and changed him. She honestly didn't mind it; she had changed her brother hundreds of times. She finished him up and put him back in the playpen. She sighed. What was she going to do now? Megan had no idea how to go about changing herself. She couldn't do it alone; not only would she make a huge mess, but there was also no way she'd be able to clean up her butt herself. She couldn't go in the shower and leave Max alone; nor could she wait for her mom to return either; her Mom would surely know of Megan's condition upon first sight. Megan was stuck in a quandry, with no solutions. Without thinking, Megan sat on the couch. The poop should up all around her ass, spreading it everywhere; it just made a huge mess. Megan began to cry again. Her day was going from bad to worse.

Chapter 3: School Megan slid down on the floor, a gasped. That was not the best idea, though; she heard the squish sound of her Pamper as it landed on the floor. That did very little to consoul her. What happend? She hadn't used the bathroom in her diaper sense she was 7! Even worse, she never wet in her sleep. Did she drink to much the night before? Did she have to ped before going to bed but didn't realize it? Everything was so strange. Megan then remembered the situation she was in; she was sitting on the floor in a wet Pamper with her whole family a floor below her. And school was in an hour. She had to get out of her undergarment. She pulled at the tapes of the diaper and it feel to the ground with a "Plop!". Her now naked body felt...moist. She did not like the feeling. She jumped in the shower and cleaned up. She came out and, after drying off, folded the diaper into itself. She stuffed it in her backpack; she'd dispose of it later. She grabbed a pull up from under her bed and put it on. She found wearing a Pull Up to school easier; that way, if she had to use the bathroom, she could do it easily. She throw on some clothes and proceeded out the door. She grabbed a Pop Tart from a tray and left the house; her parents didn't have much to say to her anyways. Shre arrived at school and the day proceeded as normal. She talked to her friends, Kate and Lil, did her work, ate lunch; everytging was going fine. That was, until her Trig class. It was after lunch, and the last period until she got home. She was paying attention to her teacher, Mr. Franklin. Not to what he was teaching of course, but his looks. He was 32, and pretty hot. You could say Megan was "Hot for Teacher." But after he finished his lecture, Megan suddenly had to pee really bad. It was such a shocker to Megan; the feeling came over her so fast. She raised her hand and asked Mr. Franklin to go to the bathroom. She hustled out of her class, trying to keep her bladder together. She was close to a bathroom; she could make it. But five feet from the door, Megan exploded. Her bladder burst and Megan, now in a squatting position, began to pee her pants for the first time in 11 years. She had a lot to pee out, and Megan was worried the Pull Up couldn't hold it all. Thankfully, it did. However, it was extremely wet. Megan ran in the bathroom and slammed the stall. She began to sob. What was happening to her? Why couldn't she hold her bladder? About five minutes later, she stopped. She was extremely dirty, and needed a change. She looked at her watch. Class ended in 15 minutes. They wouldn't miss her. She left the school and returned home.