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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 Victor’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

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.

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

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!

ج I want to start wearing diapers and accept myself in them. What are the lines that I start with? I bought diapers but I don’t know who to wear them. I’m afraid of my family that someone might know. I’m afraid of society.

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.

Congratulations, I can't offer any advice but I can say I'm very jealous. I would imagine your wife and my wife have similar feelings about ABDL. She has flipped between unsupportive to supportive many times. I remember when she was angry once she said if we had kids I would steal their diapers and baby wipes. Sadly my wife and I discovered we couldn't have kids after several miscarriages and a failed IVF treatment. I've often wondered what it would be like to be an ABDL and a Dad, I think it would have been a positive. Maybe it's not healthy for us to live vicariously through our children. I know from personal experience going all the way back to being a little boy that when I'm in a position to care for infants, babies, and toddlers the last thing on my mind is my own ABDL interests, but instead being the best caregiver I can for them. Since I have to keep everything very hidden now and rarely get to age play I don't think it would change much but become even harder to indulge. I would imagine for those who have much more open ABDL lives then having kids would be a huge change.

I really do wonder what the percentage of non diaper wearing people that go to nye in new York actually wear diapers. I'm sure the numbers would astound me, which also leads me to believe people are/can be more open to others that wear

They definitely need to go for a hike with the doggy! I have a feeling things are only going to get worse at 'work' for her at this rate! Good to see a new chapter!

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.

want to wish everyone a Happy and Safe New Years as well as a Diapered one too.

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.

The ball drops at midnight, and the gates open at 3pm. Including getting there, and coming home- that's 13+ hours of diapers. Now, noobs might chose to go down Walmart and buy crappy Pull-ups, which will need to be changed at least 3 times. Since they are noobs, they will hold off until the last minute, and then release a torrent that leaks after the first void.. I would rather have dental surgery without anaesthesia than being at Times Square on New Years Eve (I was there once, midweek in July- and ran away as fast possible- that place sucked), if I went, I would wear a good diaper- with at 2, more likely 3 boosters

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

With regards to this section, there's a lot of negative reviews. Read with caution. I feel like these reviews were taken in the olden, olden days of this community and doesn't necessarily reflect the modern version of what 24/7 can be like for us today. This is back when all you had were Molicares and Abenas to supplement disposable diaper use. Back in the days of DPF so to speak. It seems to me to be much easier to achieve 24/7 status with what we have on the market today.

But loafers don't have laces. That's what makes them loafers.

Amazing job i look forward to reading more to come

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...

I hope that at some point, in a later chapter, you'll explore this. ??? I can't figure out how to parse this, even given your propensity to spell out initials. (BTW, why? What would be the reason that this language evolved like this?) OTOH: wow! This is one of the most inventive concepts I've read since...since PPP brought the DD into existence. And I suspect it's only going to get better. 🙂

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.

Yesterday's surprise was quite a massive mess, my diaper was very soaked at that point. I was in my dining room and heading for the shower and a quick change. As I was about halfway there and standing in the hallway, I felt an extreme amount of pressure on my rear end. And I realized that I was about to have a messy diaper. So I stood there and I was very surprised at how fast I exploded into my diaper. The volume was a lot and it was a very soft mess, so playful me then had to go sit down at the desk in my bedroom. But before sitting down, I covered the chair with a disposable pad just in case something leaked. I was already wearing a pair of sweat pants over my diaper and the wife was out with friends, so I had plenty of play time. Well of course after sitting down the mess spread out very nicely and was all contained with no leaks or blowouts. I turned on my laptop, surfed the web for about an hour. Then headed for the shower for cleanup and change into a fresh diaper. Well I don't get the chance that often to enjoy a messy diaper, but this last one was extremely surprising the way it happened and also very enjoyable at the same time. A great way to start my 12 days off work.

Love the opening and I like the trope twists! Incredibly bold choice and it works for me!

Sam is given a huge boost before she is set to go to high school. --- 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 ❤️ --- “I’ve thought about it…” Isabelle said from the couch. She let the words hang in the air as tension built. “And!?” Sam was stood in front of her caregiver. She was repeatedly raising and lowering each foot as she bounced on the spot in anticipation. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest as if praying. “You’ve worked very hard over the last week and I think you should be very proud of that.” Isabelle continued. Sam tried to read between the lines to guess where this was going. Was she going to end up happy or upset? It was all down to what Isabelle decided. She felt like a child waiting to be told if they were going to be getting a desperately sought after toy or not. Isabelle’s poker face didn’t give anything away. “Please, please, please…” Sam muttered repeatedly. “I’ve gone back and forth on this but-…” Isabelle said. “Just tell me!” Sam practically begged. Her impatience spilling over. Isabelle reached around the side of the couch and pulled out a plastic bag. Sam’s eyes went wide as she saw the heavy rectangular package within. She hardly dared to hope that this was truly happening. It had felt so impossible for so long but now, right in front of her, was something that represented her progress more than anything else. “I think you’re ready.” Isabelle said as she grabbed the handle of the package and pulled it out of the bag. “Pull-ups!” Sam exclaimed. She was practically jumping up and down in delight. “Now, Sam, listen to me a second.” Isabelle said as she tried to calm the overexcited girl in front of her. Sam had to force herself to stop bouncing. Her eyes were focused on the package in Isabelle’s hands, the smiling girl on the front could’ve been a mirror for her right then. She was finally getting out of diapers and it was just in time to start high school. The last step before she could really consider herself a grown-up again. “Sam? Are you listening?” Isabelle asked the obviously distracted woman. “Uh huh.” Sam replied, “Can I hold them? Can I put one on now?” “In a minute.” Isabelle replied, “First, we need to go over a couple of things.” Sam nodded quickly. She would’ve agreed to anything if it meant getting her little hands on those pull-ups. It wasn’t long ago that this type of underwear felt helplessly out of reach, that she would never be able to get there. Next to the diapers Sam had been wearing for what to her felt like forever these pull-ups felt like big girl underwear. “Alright, well, firstly these are reward for your progress with potty training.” Isabelle said, “But they ARE still protection. Think of them like a test, you need to keep them dry or you’ll end up back in diapers again.” Sam nodded. Her last week of middle school had been hard work. The work in class had been fine, at that point it was easy, but there were other things to improve and potty training was Sam’s biggest focus. Both at school and at home Sam was paying more attention than ever to when she needed the potty and by the end of the week she was reliably keeping herself clean and dry. The one time where she was still struggling was overnight where she woke up wet a lot more often than not still. “Secondly, this is me showing faith in you.” Isabelle said seriously, “This is me expecting you to be mature enough to handle them. You’re not a baby anymore, alright?” “I know. I’m ready.” Sam said. Isabelle handed over the pull-ups and Sam snatched them away. She could already see that they were thinner than what she was used to, there were butterflies in her tummy. She had better be sure she was ready for them because they wouldn’t hold much in terms of accidents. She had kept her diapers mostly dry and clean for a while but it still felt like a bit of a gamble. “Alright, you can put one on now and then we need to head out to the store.” Isabelle said. “Go out… with a pull-up?” Sam asked hesitantly. “If you think you are ready.” The way Isabelle spoke make Sam think this was a test, “If not you can stay in diapers.” Sam looked down at the pull-ups and bit her lip. She wanted to prove she could be a big girl but it was scary. If she was caught short they wouldn’t do too much to protect her. Leaking all over the place in public would be so humiliating that she would probably want to go all the way back to her crib and non-verbal babbling. “But if you don’t think you can wear a pull-up to the store I don’t know if you’ll be able to wear it to school…” Isabelle continued. That quickly made Sam’s mind up. She clutched the pull-ups a little more closely. If not wearing a pull-up now meant not being able to wear them later then she was going to put them on right away. Sam left the room and headed upstairs. Once in her bedroom she quickly pulled her skirt down and placed the pull-ups on the bed. Her diaper, still dry, could be the last one she would ever need to wear. She almost thought she should keep it for posterity. Frame it and hang it on the wall as a reminder of how far she had come. Sam ripped off the tapes and let the diaper drop to the ground. She reached over and tore open the packet in front of her, the disposable padding packed tightly within already looked and felt different to the diapers Sam was leaving behind. They were so much thinner and the paper-thin elastic sides would be completely hidden. She pulled one out and held it up as if it was a precious artefact. It was still a pull-up for children. Sam may have been growing in maturity but physically she was as small as ever. The pull-up was white and on the front was some grown-up depictions of flowers. It looked very sophisticated and grown up to Sam who beamed at it. She opened it up and stepped through the holes. As she pulled it up she felt how soft and small it was, they felt almost like real panties! With the pull-up in place Sam looked in the mirror and did a little twirl. She started bouncing from happiness again. This was what she had been working towards. She could’ve stared at her reflection for hours but when Isabelle called on her to get a move on she pulled herself away and got dressed in a skirt and a pink t-shirt. Sam walked down the stairs with space between her thighs that she was completely unused to. She found that if she wasn’t concentrating on how she walked her legs automatically opened as if there was still a thick bunch of padding there. Waddling felt weird when there was no reason to do it. “Ready?” Isabelle asked as Sam reached the bottom of the stairs and started putting on her shoes. “Yep!” Sam replied. She was excited although there was also some anxiety. “You’re going to be fine.” Isabelle said, “Just let me know if you need the bathroom.” “Let you know?” Sam frowned, “But… I don’t need any help.” “I know.” Isabelle replied, “But I don’t want you to get too far away from me.” Sam pursed her lips. She thought about arguing that she didn’t need Isabelle to supervise her but it seemed a small price to pay for the opportunity, she would just have to be extra vigilant with her bladder. Still, she felt like she was mature enough to be trusted to go by herself… --- In the mall Sam felt strange. It was the first time she could remember that she was out of the house and not at all concerned that someone would notice her underwear. They walked through to the clothing store that they had visited each time they had needed a new wardrobe. This time Sam was pleased they were going to shop in the teenager and young adult section. Some things hadn’t changed though and Sam was annoyed that Isabelle seemed to be picking a lot of the clothes without consulting her. She had a very conservative style of dressing. Sam was pouting a little bit when she felt her bladder twinge. Her eyes widened and a hand went straight down to her crotch. “I need the potty!” Sam exclaimed suddenly. Eyes in the busy store turned to face what they saw as a little girl needing their mommy to take them to the bathroom. Isabelle put a pastel pink blouse into the shopping cart and turned to Sam who looked up at her with wide eyes. “OK, come with me.” Isabelle said as she reached out and took Sam’s hand. Sam had one hand over her pull-up and the other took Isabelle’s hand. They walked quickly towards the entrance to the store and then out into the main concourse. Sam’s bladder was telling her she needed the potty NOW. The bathrooms were nearby and Isabelle took Sam into the women’s restroom and straight into one of the cubicles. Without hesitating and whilst Isabelle locked the door Sam pulled down her skirt and pull-up. She hopped up on to the toilet seat just in time as the sound of tinkling on the porcelain was the reward for her effort. She sat back on the seat and clapped her hands as relief washed over her. “I did it!” Sam said excitedly, “I made it!” “Well done.” Isabelle replied. The corners of her lips twitched upwards. Sam blushed as she realised how embarrassing her sudden outburst was. She dropped her head to look towards the floor and covered her face with her hands. She felt Isabelle gently pat her hair. The bathroom was busy and whilst no one obviously reacted to what she said she knew people heard her. When Sam was done she cleaned herself under supervision of Isabelle before pulling up her completely dry pull-up and skirt. She tried to avoid looking at anyone else as she quickly washed her hands and then followed Isabelle back to the store where their cart was still waiting for them. --- You can read the next part of this story RIGHT NOW over on SubscribeStar and Ream: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/lwt7udqa47/chapter/1337ee63-9f87-4c13-bf53-2cc49941d491 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1619953

The slumber party is over and it's time to go home. At least Sam knows her new friends will have her back no matter what. However, when Issy comes to pick her up she brings some less than welcome news. --- 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 ❤️ --- The woman had known things couldn’t go well forever. She knew how she would look if anyone saw her as she currently was. It was something everyone had seen in the most generic sitcoms. In the darkness she was sitting high up in a tree with a pair of binoculars. It would certainly be difficult to explain if she was caught but she had been meticulously careful. Every mother had a right to keep an eye on their baby. That was all the woman was doing. Looking through her binoculars into the bedroom where the girls were staying to make sure Sam was alright, and if an opportunity arose to bring Sam back home she would, of course, grab it with both hands. The first half of the evening had been quiet. She had watched Sam having a good time but could see how anxious she was. When her diaper was exposed the woman had sat with baited breath gripping the trunk of the tree and wanting to spring into action. When Sam had started acting like a baby she was confused. At first she thought she was just playing along but the longer it went on the more she thought she must’ve been regressed. In some ways the woman was pleased that Sam hadn’t truly forgotten who she was. The little one was a baby, she had always been a baby and always would be one. As she watched Sam being bottle fed by children she felt like it was vindicating her beliefs. Sam would always be a baby deep down and trying to disguise that fact would never work. Sam’s true nature would always come out. The woman waited and watched in the darkness. It was a chilly night but such was the woman’s devotion to Sam that she hardly felt it. She remained motionless like a predator watching for prey but she didn’t want to hurt the small woman in the bedroom, quite the opposite. The day when she would get the chance to take Sam home, to put her back where she belonged was drawing closer and closer. --- Sam was awoken when she felt a foot pressing into her leg. She rolled over and away from it with a grumble. Her diaper crinkled wetly between her legs as she pulled her cover up closer to her head. She didn’t initially remember where she was until she recognised the smell of a baby’s bedroom in the air. With a groan Sam slowly opened her eyes to see the bars of the crib right in front of her. She was reminded of where she was and how she had ended up there. She remembered the regression but as she sat up and flexed her fingers she felt like it had worn off. She whispered a few words and when it wasn’t simple baby babble she felt relief run through her, she had been genuinely concerned all her progress would’ve been undone. The room was bathed in early morning light and after rubbing her eyes and yawning she saw Ash laying on his side sleepily sucking on a bottle. When she looked to the other side of the crib she saw a second bottle tucked between the mattress and the bars. Even though the regression had worn off she was feeling very thirsty and had no idea when she might be let out of the baby bed. She reached over and picked up the drink. Laying back down so she was on her side like the baby boy Sam placed the latex teat between her lips and sucked down some juice. It was room temperature but still very refreshing. For a little while the only sounds in the otherwise silent nursery was the suckling of the baby bottles along with the occasional crinkle of a diaper when either Sam or Ash moved. Sam was only really half-awake when the door opened and she reacted slowly as Nikki walked in with the girls following. Sam quickly sat up as she blushed and then remembered the bottle in her mouth that she let drop on to the mattress spilling some of the liquid within. “Good morning.” Nikki said as she came in. “Hi Sam.” Becky said brightly. Sam shyly hello as the nursery’s visitors crowded around the side of the crib that came down. Nikki reached through the bars to check her son’s diaper and declared it to be damp. It seemed like an almost automatic movement for her to reach across and press a hand to Sam’s diaper. In an equally unthinking move Sam simply moved her legs apart to give easier access. She only noticed what she was doing when Chloe and Caitlyn looked at each other. “I’ll have to change you both.” Nikki said as she withdrew her hand, “I’ll take Ash first, girls, could you keep an eye on Sam?” “Sure.” Becky replied. Ash was lifted out of the crib leaving Sam feeling like a prisoner with visitors just the other side of her bars. It was awkward and embarrassing. She had been aware of everything that had been happening the previous evening but today it was worse because she was back to normal. “How are you?” Chloe asked, “Did you sleep alright?” “I’m OK and yeah.” Sam replied as she looked down at the mattress. “You should get an award.” Caitlyn said with a big grin, “Like an Oscar or something.” Sam smiled shyly. It hadn’t been acting but she wasn’t going to say that. It was better for the girls to believe she was a naturally talented actress than to know she was always a few words away from complete regression even after everything that had happened. She saw how excited and impressed Caitlyn was though and it made her anxious. There was something she should probably say before it was too late. “Erm, guys, could we keep all this between just us?” Sam asked, “I really don’t want anyone to know about… well, any of this.” “Aww, but…” Caitlyn started. “It’s OK.” Becky said, “Your secret’s safe with us.” Sam looked up for the first time and whilst Caitlyn looked a little annoyed the other two were smiling. She trusted them. Belatedly she realised that all the girl’s laughter the previous night hadn’t been meant in a mean way. They had been having fun and assumed Sam was having fun as well. She felt an overwhelming amount of positive feelings for these girls who were so kind. Next to her experience with the kids at elementary school the difference was night and day. Ash’s diaper change was completed and he was lowered to the floor. Nikki came over to the crib and lowered the side. Before anything could happen Sam scooted forwards and dropped to the floor. She stepped forwards and wrapped Becky in a big hug. “Thank you all so much.” Sam said. She was almost tearful. “It’s what friends are for.” Chloe replied. Eventually Sam felt two hands on her sides and she was lifted into the air. She was taken to the changing table for a new diaper. Thankfully Becky and her friends left the room leaving Sam with a modicum of privacy. “Crazy night, huh?” Nikki said as she taped the fresh disposable on Sam. Sam looked to the side at the window and subtly nodded her head. --- “Did you have fun?” Isabelle asked. They were walking away from Becky’s house towards Isabelle’s car when the question was asked. It didn’t feel like there was a simple answer. It certainly hadn’t been relaxing. Sam had spent most of the evening feeling stressed for one reason or another. There had been various humiliations and she was now relying on the discretion of three young girls to keep her secret safe. Yet despite everything Sam nodded her head. She did have a good time. After being so scared to make new friends after her experience at her previous school she had met what felt like genuine angels. It had restored her faith in other people just as she had started thinking the worst of everyone. “That’s good.” Isabelle said, “I have to say I was concerned when Nikki called me last night…” Sam reluctantly explained what had happened the previous evening. At the news that the triggers were still holding such power Isabelle looked perturbed. Sam wasn’t too concerned though, it felt like the triggers lasted a shorter length of time and was slightly less powerful. The progress may have been glacial but Sam wasn’t going to let that ruin her good mood. The drive home was done mostly in silence. Sam was thinking about the sleepover and the potential of going to another one whilst Isabelle was focused on the hypnotic triggers. When the car pulled up back at Isabelle’s home Sam was glad to have a place where she could unwind. “It’s a shame in a way.” Isabelle said after she had taken off her jacket and walked into the living room. “Why?” Sam asked. “You’re just getting to know them and yet you’ll be moving on soon.” Isabelle said as she pressed a button the remote control to turn on the television. “Moving on?” Sam repeated slowly. “Yeah, I called your teacher and she said you’d been doing great.” Isabelle replied, “I think it’s time to move up to high school.” “But…” Sam felt like everything had slowed down. She had just made genuine friends and now Isabelle wanted her to leave them… “Your teacher said you’re work has surpassed the other students.” Isabelle continued, “You should be happy. You’ve got through this stage really qui-…” “No!” Sam exclaimed, “I don’t want to!” “Sam, you…” Isabelle tried to reason with Sam. “They’re my friends! I want to stay with them!” Sam shouted. She felt tears filling her eyes and she hated it. She didn’t want to cry like a toddler, she wanted to assert her point like a grown-up. “You can’t hang out with them.” Isabelle said. Her voice was remaining calm but she had seen Sam’s tantrum coming on, “Sam, you are an adult. You can’t stay in middle school forever.” “You don’t understand!” Sam stamped her foot, “I don’t want to go to high school!” “It isn’t a choice.” Isabelle replied sternly, “You have to get better and to do that you-…” “I want to stay with my friends!” Sam stamped her feet. “What is wrong with you?” Isabelle asked with exasperation. Her patience had clearly come to an end, “You need to get better so you can go home!” “I hate you!” Sam screamed, “You want me to be miserable!” “Sam… Sam, come back.” Isabelle said it was too late. Sam had stomped out of the room as tears started to fall down her face. She banged up the stairs as loudly as possible and went to her bedroom. She slammed the door closed so hard that the objects on the nearby shelves trembled. Unable to keep her cries under control she sobbed as she flung herself on her bed. Screaming into the pillow Sam beat her hands and feet against the mattress. It felt like the end of the world for Sam. After everything that had happened, just as she had finally found people who accepted her as she was and were fun to be around she was being ripped away from them all. Sam had done everything to make those three girls kick her to the curb and yet they all stuck with her. She was mourning friendships that had barely had a chance to bloom. High school terrified her, she had been bullied a lot the first time through and she could only imagine this second time would be worse. Isabelle just wanted to get rid of her, Sam thought. She was tired of having to change diapers and look after “a baby” so planned to rush through the rest of the process and push her out. Sam was going to be dumped back at home whilst still not ready for adulthood and was supposed to thank Isabelle for it. She wasn’t ready! At dinnertime Isabelle called Sam to come down but she refused to move. A little later there was a knock on the door and Isabelle said she was leaving a plate outside the room for Sam. Putting herself to bed Sam hadn’t changed that day and her diaper was soaked. She did a half-assed job at putting on a new disposable before climbing under her covers. She felt betrayed. Not for the first time she wondered if she would’ve been happier with Jess as a mindless drooling infant that didn’t have to think or worry about anything. That night Sam laid on her bed looking at the ceiling and feeling conflicting emotions. She still felt she had every right to be upset at Isabelle and the situation but she was regretting her outburst. She still really wanted to stay with her new friends but Isabelle was right. When she thought about it logically she knew that she had to grow up, that it was the only way to continue getting better. It just felt like it was too soon. Sam hadn’t said a word to Issy since she had stormed out of the living room many hours before. Sam sighed, there was just no way she was going to be able to sleep with everything occupying her mind. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the scene of her argument replayed in her head. Sam slipped out of her bed and pulled up her loose-fitting diaper. She had changed herself again before bed but the tapes were slanted and it wasn’t tight enough. Despite it being past her bedtime Sam walked across her room and down to the living room. The door was closed but she could hear the television inside on at a low volume. She had second thoughts and considered about going back to bed, she was technically breaking the rules to be up late after all. Eventually Sam stood on tip-toes to reach up and pull the handle of the door. As it swung open she saw Isabelle sitting on an armchair and doing some sewing as she occasionally looked up at the screen in front of her. Sam took a deep breath and looked at the floor with her hands clasped in front of her. The picture of innocence. “Erm, Issy?” Sam said quietly. Out of the corner of her eye Sam saw Isabelle look up and see her. The older woman reached for the remote control and muted the already very quiet TV. “Yes?” Isabelle replied. “I… I wanted to say…” Sam bit her lip. She felt really embarrassed for her behaviour earlier and yet apologising didn’t feel easy either, “I… I…” “It’s OK, Sam.” Isabelle replied, “Come here.” Sam waddled across the room. By this point she had been living with Isabelle for so long she had absolutely no worries about her diaper peeking up and over the waistband of her pants. She kept her face to the floor as she stood in front of the chair so she didn’t see her caregiver reach forwards. Sam was lifted into the air and sat on Isabelle’s lap sideways. She felt extra small and vulnerable like this and averted her eyes. Isabelle wasn’t known for her warmth usually but she was being surprisingly touchy-feely. For the first time Sam wondered if Issy was changing and learning just like she was. “What you said earlier hurt me.” Isabelle said softly, “I understand you were upset but growing up means more than just learning your letters and numbers, you have to learn responsibility. You have to remember how your words and actions can affect other people.” “I’m sorry.” Sam said quietly. “Don’t worry about it.” Isabelle rubbed Sam’s back a little. It still didn’t feel natural, she was more than a little stiff, “I guess we should expect it if you’re entering your teenage years.” “Teenage years?” Sam repeated with a frown. “Well, you’ve been growing up and learning everything but perhaps we underestimated the emotional development you’re going through.” Isabelle said, “Anyway, I think it’s past your bedtime.” Sam nodded as Isabelle stood up. Sam was shifted on to Isabelle’s hip. She may have been “growing up” in many ways but she was still, and would always be, small physically. Right then she didn’t mind too much, there was comfort in being this close to Isabelle. Isabelle carried Sam back to the diapered woman’s bedroom. She was going straight over to the bed when Sam spoke up. “Erm, could you change me?” Sam asked in a small embarrassed voice. “You feel dry to me.” Isabelle replied as her hand started probing the padding. “I just didn’t do a very good job.” Sam said with a sigh, “It’s not as comfortable as when you do it.” Sam thought she felt Isabelle chuckle a little before she was taken to the changing table for a fresh diaper before bed. It had been a long and draining couple of days. It felt like so much had happened and now, abruptly she was being told she was going on to a new and scary place. A new unknown where anything could happen. It was terrifying to think about. But Isabelle was right. The goal of all of this was to make her fully adult again. She was so close now and as horrible as it would be to leave Becky and the others behind it was necessary. With Sam’s diaper change completed Isabelle helped her down from the table and she walked across to the bed. As she slipped under the covers she looked up at Isabelle who was straightening out the bed sheets at the other end of the bed. “I think you’re right.” Sam finally said, “About going to high school.” Isabelle nodded her head and gave Sam one of her rare brief smiles. --- You can read the next part of this story RIGHT NOW over on SubscribeStar and Ream: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/lwt7udqa47/chapter/f3e8ddbd-2a25-479b-ba0c-7705c61d64c9 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1609198

Chapter 6: Switch Scene It took only five minutes for Melody to put together the supplies she needed, but a full hour to negotiate the details. Skip considered noping out of the situation twice, but they’d already committed to it, and their balking points were a bit too embarrassing to admit. Better to run with it, and keep their private opinions on the situation private. “I want you to experience some pressure, even some stress,” Melody had explained, “But it’s not going to be sexual.” “I’m not going to say that sexual stuff wouldn’t be stressful,” Skip pointed out. “If you want me uncomfortable, that could work.” “But it’s not the point.” Melody sat back on her bed, kicking up her feet. “If it were sexual, you’d only be super grossed out and uncomfortable.” (It’s not that gross,) Skip thought. Their issue with sex had more to do with boredom than anything else; the grossness came with the human element. “So, the point?” “I want there to be a push and a pull. A threat, and a reward. Normally–” “Punishment and cumming, yeah,” Skip interrupted. “I get it.” “Okay, so, we’ll figure out something for you. What would make a good reward?” “I guess…” Skip started, pursing their lips. This was the first balking point. Anything they suggested would be unavoidably revealing. Would asking for cash be greedy? Almost certainly–and it wouldn’t fit the mood. They had to come up with something personally rewarding, something that would actually entice them. Fortunately, Melody saved them. “I’ve got a box of chocolates this guy sent me–they’re super fancy. How does that sound?” It sounded like an opportunity to not have to come up with anything, and that was exactly what Skip wanted. “Perfect.” Melody grinned. “Great. Now–for punishment. We’re not going to do anything physical. I’m not even going to actually do anything, I just need something I can threaten you with.” “So…if you’re not going to do it, just threaten me with violence,” Skip pointed out. “Yeah, no. This one needs to be personal.” Melody sat back, scratching their chin. “I’ve run a kinda-similar scene before, but I’d just threaten to call the sub’s ex. That doesn’t work here, for obvious reasons.” “Yeah,” Skip agreed. “No exes.” “Are you reading anything right now?” Melody suggested. “Or in the middle of a show? I could threaten to spoil the ending.” Skip shook their head. They didn’t particularly care about spoilers, and most of their narrative investment fell into video games rather than TV or books, where the plot was more player-driven and twists didn’t matter as much. “I generally guess twists way in advance anyway,” they pointed out. “So…spoilers don’t bother me?” Melody bobbed their head in a nod. “Okay…hmm.” Tilting their head, Skip got an idea. “Though…if you’re not actually going to do it, I do have an idea.” From there, they hashed out details, with an unnecessary-but-insisted-on refresher on safe words and a couple plans made for how to write about the scene after the fact. Just to be thorough, Skip also took notes on the pre-scene conversation, jotting down enough commentary to remember how it played out so they could print it as well. A few concessions would be made. Skip would remain fully clothed throughout, but they’d have to remove their hoodie to make their wrists more accessible. Not much physical contact would be needed, but Melody would sometimes touch Skip’s face, arms, legs, and shoulders, both to facilitate the bondage and to encourage the right headspace. And, if need be, Skip was always free to end things in an instant. Then came the setup. Skip retrieved a toy from their own collection while Melody borrowed a couple office supplies from Grace. Surprisingly, the only object Melody actually provided was the box of chocolates–her extensive collection didn’t come into play. After reconvening, Melody dimmed the lights in her room, and though her clothes didn’t change, her posture shifted, bringing out a persona that Skip rarely saw except incidentally and in passing. “Sit down,” she instructed, nodding to her bed. Her voice wasn’t quite a purr, but it had a deeper, huskier element to it. Skip exhaled through their nose. They didn’t want to laugh in her face or deliberately break the mood, but it was hard to get around the inherent silliness of it all. A human mating ritual, minus the mating part, felt like it should’ve been a comedy sketch rather than a passionate scene. Still, they’d been given an instruction, and they wanted to see how this would all play out. They sat, legs hanging over the side. Melody approached, reached down, and took Skip’s wrists in her hands, holding them up. The touch reminded them that they were exposed, with only a T-shirt over their body, and the desire to chuckle faded. “Don’t struggle,” Melody said, stepping onto the bed and kneeling behind Skip’s back. She deftly moved their wrists, pinning them together, then added in a whisper, “You’re not going anywhere.” A slender strip of paper wrapped around Skip’s wrists, pulling their hands together. It wasn’t special paper, or particularly hardy, just printer paper borrowed from Grace–with a solid tug, it would rip, but that was the point. Skip wouldn’t really be bound, it would only feel that way; even if Melody lost her mind and started ignoring safe words, the bondage would be only an illusion. Sliding the base of the stapler beneath the paper so that it protected Skip’s skin, Melody gave the tool a squeeze, and with a solid ka-chunk Melody pinned the paper together. There was no escaping the makeshift cuff without ripping it. Skip found it to be more delicate than they’d even realized. Shifting their weight, they felt the paper strain against the side of their hand. They had to be still and careful, cautious not to accidentally tear the restraint. For emphasis, Melody slipped two fingers beneath the paper, showing that there was room for circulation. That done, she stood, kneeling by Skip’s feet. Another strip of paper, another heavy stapler cha-chunk, and Skip was left helpless and immobile. At least, so long as they wanted the scene to continue. Melody stood, leaning in and studying Skip. Her face was only a few inches away from Skip’s, her chest moving slowly, and Skip could feel her warm breath puffing against their skin. They locked eyes with her, jaw set in determination. “Are you comfortable?” Melody’s question felt like a joke, or an insult. Of course they weren’t comfortable. It was a struggle to keep still, to hold their body in place and avoid ripping the paper, and the act of just remaining stationary took up their focus. “Yes,” Skip promised, nodding. They wouldn’t be defeated by some strips of paper. “I’m fine.” Melody’s delicate fingers traced over Skip’s shoulder, idly taunting them with her freedom of movement. They were paralyzed, barely able to shift their wrists or adjust their stance. A smile spread across Melody’s lips. “Good. Remember, you can end this at any time.” Skip nodded, realizing that their heart rate had begun to increase. Their arms trembled a little, as though their body thought they’d begun exercising. Burying their nerves, they shook their head. “I’m not stupid.” “Alright.” Reaching down, Melody picked up the object they’d settled on as the Threat. “Then let’s begin.” Pressing the power button on top, she clicked on Skip’s Switch, a shiny logo appearing as the game console powered up. “Now, let’s see,” Melody purred, somehow still maintaining the sultry timbre in her tone as she moved the joystick, screen turned that Skip could see. “I’ve got access to all your save files here, don’t I?” It was just a game, a farce as part of their trumped up scene, but Skip still felt a spike of anxiety when they saw Melody open the settings menu and tab to the storage page. ‘Delete all save data’ was right there, text highlighted, waiting to be pressed. “Don’t,” Skip blurted. They hadn’t set any rules about not arguing, and their argument response had kicked into high gear. Still, they kept their wrists pressed together, not wanting to lose face by giving up. “Don’t, what?” Melody asked. This part had no clear response. Melody had explained that she would try to provoke responses from Skip, to make them say things, but she’d been vague about what exactly the word games would be. “Don’t even joke about it,” Skip said, going with bravado. “I think you meant to say, ‘Don’t, please,’” Melody chided. “Maybe a lesson is necessary. Which of these do you care about the most?” Skip’s eyes widened as Melody moved away from the save data storage, instead moving to the user statistics page. Suddenly, their gaming history was laid bare, cumulative thousands of hours across a rather embarrassing spread of titles. “Two hundred hours in Monster Hunter: Rise?” Melody said. “That sure is a lot of time to be gone in an instant.” “No!” Skip snapped, a blush immediately shooting up their face as they reacted. (It’s just an act, don’t let on that you’re getting flustered.) “No, what?” Melody asked, the corners of her mouth curling up in a demonic smirk. Squirming, twisting their wrists against the paper, wishing they could snatch the Switch away and end this, Skip capitulated. “No, please.” “That’s better.” Straightening, Melody reached out and traced a finger along the side of Skip’s face. “If you ask very nicely, I’ll let you play with your Switch tonight, and I’ll even give you an extra reward.” Skip frowned. “Wait, stop.” (No, stupid.) “I mean, Yellow.” Melody’s change in demeanor was smooth but instant as she shifted from stern to soothing. “What is it?” “That wasn’t part of the plan,” Skip objected. “We never said anything about you keeping the switch once we’re done.” Smiling warmly, Melody shook her head. “It’s just another threat. I won’t follow through with it.” (Obviously.) Skip exhaled slowly, feeling ridiculous for using a safe word over something so apparent. Or, really, feeling ridiculous for reacting at all–they’d known it was an act, but they’d had a spike of concern anyway. They should’ve been better than that. “Okay, I’m good then.” “Thank you for using your safe words,” Melody whispered to them, soft and reassuring. “You’re so good for me.” That, at least, didn’t make Skip feel much of anything, which helped them regain a bit of confidence. It was just so cheesy, and they hadn’t done anything warranting real praise. “Let’s just get back to it. Green?” Nodding, Melody regained her aloof smirk. “I think I want to hear you beg.” No longer worried thanks to the break in continuity, Skip still played along. “Please, don’t take away my games. Please!” “You can do better,” Melody chided. “It’s like you don’t really even want it.” This was just acting, and while Skip was no movie star, they could put on an front well enough, even hiding how much the whole encounter made them want to snicker at the absurdity. “Please, Melody, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you say, just let me have my games back, please?” “Mmm…” Melody said, tapping a finger to her lips in thought. Taking a stab at what Melody wanted, Skip threw in a stinger at the end. “I’ll be good for you.” That won her over. Melody smiled, setting down the Switch. Reaching to her side, she picked up the box of chocolates she’d left on her nightstand, undoing the ribbon with the tip of her nails. When she opened the lid, a note inside fell out: ’Can’t wait to see you again - Quentin’. Melody ignored the note completely as it fluttered to the floor, picking up one of the chocolates, a shiny red one that smelled of cinnamon and spice. Cupping Skip’s face gently in one palm, she pressed the confection between their lips, letting Skip savor the impeccably made chocolate. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Melody inquired, watching their face. “When you’re good for me, you get rewarded.” Skip smiled, warmth spreading down their throat. The chocolate had a bit of heat to it, maybe a Mexican Spice blend, and it tasted expensive. Unsure if they were supposed to respond or not, they simply nodded. At their reaction, Melody only smiled. “I knew you’d like it better once you were obedient.” Even if only because it came with a bribery of chocolate…she wasn’t entirely wrong. ... This Black Friday*, you can subscribe to my content, and not only will you help support my writing, you'll also get early access to all my fiction, plus exclusive content! (*You can also do this on days other than Black Friday, there's nothing unique about today. It's an all the time deal!) https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Chapter 62: Clichés GRANDMA LED ME to my room, where she opened the bathroom door and helped me out of the diaper. “See what you can get out?” She asked. I blushed at being naked in front of her on the potty, but truthfully, my shame was getting a little lessened all the time, it seemed. So many kept seeing me like this! I managed to pee a decent amount and wiped, and Grandma stopped me before I flushed, “Grandpa wanted me to look at the color…” She shook her head, “Yep, still dehydrated. Finish that cup, and then you need to drink another still before bed.” “I’m going to be swimming in it!” I griped. “Probably,” she told me. “You’re lucky he didn’t insist on an I.V., Connor.” “Uhh… you still use those?” “They’re a bit different than what you’re probably used to, but needles still go into your skin!” She said while picking me up. She laid me down on the changing table, dusted me with powder, and snuggly closed a diaper around my groin. “If you need to go potty again when you two are done, you could probably get her to loosen the tapes. Otherwise, just use the diaper, Connor.” I blushed, “Umm… okay.” She zipped the sleeper up and hugged me, “Be careful with her, Connor; I’m really worried about you two if people figure out you’re dating. She’ll probably get the worst of it if they find out.” “I will, Grandma.” She sat me back on the ground and handed me the cup, “Drink!” She watched me drink the rest of it. She was just heading downstairs to fill it again when Beth appeared in her own cute pajamas. “Ready to head downstairs?” She asked, holding both of our EdgeSphere sets. “Sure,” I said with a smile. Beth scooped me up without waiting for permission and put me on her hip. We had just reached the bottom of the stairs and were turning towards the living room when Grandma handed me a filled cup and handed Beth a similar one. “Umm…” she said. “I know you don’t need a sippy cup, but I never trust anyone wearing those glasses not to bump into drinks. This way, you won’t spill if you do.” “I guess that makes sense,” Beth admitted. I watched her set it beside her on a small end table. Then we burrowed onto the couch under a blanket Grandma thoughtfully provided. “Set yourselves an alarm for a couple hours?” Grandma said, “You don’t need to spend all night in there?” “Sure,” Beth told her. We watched Grandma leave, even as Beth said, “Drink,” to me. I groaned, “You too, then!” She smirked, and I watched her take a sip of the drink. “Eew, that’s really sweet!” “What is it?” I shrugged, “Mine isn’t that sweet?” “I think it’s Plapple Juice?” She shrugged, “I can’t drink much of it,” she added before handing me her cup, “Is it the same?” I took a sip and nodded, “Yeah, I think it is?” I shook my head, “Doesn’t seem too sweet to me, though?” “Must be those smaller taste receptors?” She squeezed me into her, “Not sure how you can do the spicy if you also like the sweets, though? Shall we get back in there and keep going?” “Sure, can you please set that alarm so we don’t get in trouble with Grandma?” I asked. She giggled, “Sure.” The glasses went back on, and we sat at our table in the theater again, looking at the screen. SCENE: BRIAN’S CUBICLE AREA SARAH WALKS DOWN A ROW OF CUBICLES AND FINDS BRIAN STARING AT SOMETHING ON HIS COMPUTER THAT SHE CAN’T SEE. HE NOTICES HER AND SHE WATCHES HIM MAKE SOME QUICK KEYSTROKES AS NONCHALANTLY AS POSSIBLE, EVEN AS HIS FACE REDDENS SLIGHTLY. BRIAN: “Hi, Miss Ingels!” SARAH (MOM): “Hi Brian, how is the solution going?” BRIAN: “You can see it here already?” HE PRESSES A BUTTON, AND THE HOLO-SCREEN SUDDENLY ACTIVATES, SHOWING HER AN INTERFACE THAT FINALLY LOOKS HOW THE COMPANY’S FLAGSHIP PRODUCT WAS DESIGNED! BRIAN: “So I think it fixed things?” SARAH (MOM): “How?” BRIAN: “It’s like I said...” CAMERA SHOWS BRIAN DISPLAYING AND SHOWING SARAH THE PRODUCT FOR SEVERAL MINUTES WHILE SHE NODS. SHE’S SO HAPPY WITH THE PROGRESS SHE CAN’T RESIST GIVING HIM A HUGE HUG. SARAH (MOM): “Brian, you saved us! I don’t know what we would ever do without you!” BRIANNA: “Happy to help, Miss Ingels!” SARAH BEGINS WALKING AWAY AND IS STOPPED NOT FAR FROM THERE BY HAILEY. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Brian would be absolutely perfect if he was a girl, you know? He’s only a couple feet shorter than Callie?” SARAH (MOM): “Brian is the most important employee here! I couldn’t possibly take him away to a nursery!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “You know it’s a matter of time before someone does, right?” SARAH (MOM): “Don’t you dare even think about it.” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “I’m happy with my little girl, but I know I’ve seen several talk about it before?” SARAH (MOM): “He’s the only reason we’re not going to go bankrupt! If you hear of anyone doing that, tell them to keep their hands off!” SARAH WALKS OFF, FRUSTRATED WITH HER FRIEND. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Sounds like Mama Bear is already coming out!” SHE GIGGLES KNOWINGLY BETH LOOKED OVER at the screen and cringed, “That Hailey character is a piece of work…” “She seems like Kelly personified,” Connor told her. “Like if she wasn’t so bad at taking direction, she would have been the perfect person to play that role.” “That girl, Sophia, should be fine too.” “Why are we saying there are good casting choices for this trash?” Connor asked with a nervous chuckle. “Well, at least you haven’t ended up in a diaper in the script yet?” Beth suggested. “True, but we both know that won’t last.” “No, what else have you noticed that’s changed?” “Well, Brian was a pretty incompetent character in Kelly’s version. Here, he’s a lot smarter. Sarah also seems less like she wants to adopt him?” Connor said. “Yeah, she does seem a little more empathetic now, and her friend’s Little volunteered now? I bet Kelly hates that?” Beth smirked. “I sure hope so!” Connor smiled at that thought himself. “Oh well, let’s see what the next horror is.” SCENE - DAYCARE - WIDDLE LEARNERS SARAH WALKS INTO THE BRIGHTLY COLORED PRESCHOOL BUILDING AND SEES OTHER PARENTS PICKING UP THEIR KIDS. SHE APPROACHES THE RECEPTIONIST WHO GREETS HER LEAVES FOR A SECOND AND THEN COMES BACK WITH REGINA SANDERS. SARAH (MOM): “Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Sanders.” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Good afternoon, Miss Ingels. I asked them to let me know when you got here so we could discuss Callie. Would you mind coming into the office with me for a few minutes?” SARAH (MOM): “Sure, though we do need to get going soon. I have a stop to make at the grocery store.” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “It won’t take long, I promise!” TRANSITION INTO AN OFFICE THAT LOOKS LIKE A TYPICAL PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. BOTH HAVE A SEAT ON EITHER SIDE OF A DESK. “Can this get any more cliché?” Connor asked her. “Paddles? Bad-girl teacher outfits?” Beth laughed. “Kelly isn’t very creative…” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Miss Ingels, I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but we really are out of options for Callie. SARAH (MOM): “She’s just slow on this one thing, and I don’t understand it!” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I confess we don’t either, but that doesn’t change where we’re at. Callie just isn’t ready for the potty, and that means I don’t think she’s going to be ready to move on to Kindergarten in a couple months either?” SARAH (MOM): “We’ve already held her back one year, we can’t keep her out indefinitely! That’s the only thing she’s deficient in though, and you know it!” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Yes, I know she can read already. I know her math skills are impressive even if she was three times her age, and I know she’s mastered every other readiness step.” SARAH (MOM): “But?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “But our local school district will not allow a six-year-old ‘Big’ girl into a regular classroom who can’t use the potty. She’ll have to be placed in a Littles’ classroom so she can have her diapers changed if she moves on. They don’t do that for regular classes.” SARAH (MOM): “She wears Pull-Ups, though!” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Not now? At least while she’s here? And honestly, Miss Ingels, I know money isn’t an issue for you, but diapers are a whole lot more economical for Callie at this point?” SARAH (MOM): “We just need to try harder...” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I don’t know how to be any more blunt Miss Ingels. We’ve tried everything I know of...” SARAH (MOM): “So what? Just have her wear diapers like a Little forever?!?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Probably not. I’m guessing another year in our care will help?” SARAH (MOM): “Sure, you don’t just want a paycheck?!?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I’ll forgive that since I know you’re upset.” SARAH (MOM): “Fine, we’ll take a potty training break and keep her in diapers here for the next month. Is that it?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “No, we also needed to let you know because of where she’s at with going back to diapers, we’ll be moving her to a different classroom for the next month until we try again?” SARAH (MOM): “What classroom?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Our Widdle Fawns room.” SARAH (MOM): “But that’s for the two-year-old toddlers who aren’t even trying to use the potty yet?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Which makes it appropriate for Callie.” SARAH (MOM): “Fine, we’ll be back, but I may be looking at other places for her!” BOTH WOMEN STAND. REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I understand; we both just want the best for Callie.” THEY EXIT, AND A FEW MOMENTS LATER, THE RECEPTIONIST BRINGS OUT HER ADORABLE DAUGHTER WEARING NOTHING BUT A DAYCARE LOGOED T- SHIRT AND A CLEAN DIAPER. “That’s going to be a horrible scene to film,” Beth squirmed. “Really, I’ll have to wear only a t-shirt with a diaper?!?” “You could ask them to change the scene?” Connor suggested. Beth sighed, “They won’t… it ‘wouldn’t be accurate,’ I can hear them saying now. It could be worse, I guess; my dad has a horror story with a blowout in daycare that hopefully they never think of!” “Huh?” Connor asked. “I’ll tell you sometime… or maybe get Mom to do it. He squirms more at it, and it makes it more entertaining?” “If you say so?” “Trust me!” Beth said. “Ugh… let’s keep going.” RECEPTIONIST “They just changed her into a fresh dry diapee, so she’s all good to go. Why don’t you show your mommy what you made today!” A FAIRLY IMPRESSIVE FINGER PAINTING IS HANDED OVER FIRST. ONCE SARAH COOS AT IT APPROPRIATELY, THE RECEPTIONIST HANDS OVER A CLEAR PLASTIC BAG OF HER LAUNDERED CLOTHES. THEY EXIT TO THE CAR, AND SHE BUCKLES HER DAUGHTER INTO HER CARSEAT. CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “Are you mad at me, Mommy?” SARAH (MOM): “Why would I be mad?” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “Because I’m nothing but a diaper wearing baby?” SARAH (MOM): “Of course not, sweetie! Where did you get that from?” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “Miss Dani?” CLEARLY, SARAH IS UPSET THAT A TEACHER SAID SOMETHING LIKE THAT. SARAH (MOM): “She’s wrong, sweetie, but we do need to deal with that part, sweetheart. I don’t think I’m going to be able to find another daycare this week for you.” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “Can I come to work with you?” SARAH (MOM): “Sorry, sweetie, they don’t like CEOs bringing their daughters to meetings in my industry.” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “So I have to wear diapees?” SARAH (MOM): “Seems like it?” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “Yay!” SARAH LOOKS AT HER, CONFUSED. SARAH (MOM): “Why are you happy about that?” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “If babies use a diapee, they don’t get in trouble! So I won’t get in trouble all the time!” SARAH (MOM): (SIGH) “You’re right, you won’t get in trouble for using your baby diapees.” (PAUSE AS SHE PRESSES HER HAND TO HER FOREHEAD) “We need to stop at the grocery store on the way home, sweetie.” SARAH CLOSES THE DOOR, BUCKLES HERSELF, AND DRIVES TO THE GROCERY STORE. “I think the joy she has in wearing diapers makes this worse,” Beth said. “I’m going to have to act like I’m happy to wear my ‘baby diapees?’” Connor squeezed her gently in a hug, “Sorry, Beth.” “At least these scenes will be on a soundstage in the building and not in a real grocery store.” MONTAGE OF CAR AND GROCERY STORE MONTAGE OF SETTING HER DAUGHTER IN THE CART SEAT AND PICKING UP TWO LARGE BOXES OF DIAPERS THAT GO INTO THE CART WITH THEIR FOOD. CALLIE BEGS FOR A NEW PACIFIER AS THEY PASS THEM, AND BEING UNWILLING TO FIGHT THAT BATTLE ANY LONGER SHE BUYS A FEW FOR HER. CAMERA SHOWS SARAH WALKING INTO THE BATHROOM CARRYING ONE OF THE DIAPERS AND SOME WIPES TO GO CHANGE CALLIE BEFORE FADING “Well, at least the scene fades instead of showing the change?” Beth said. “But two boxes? Isn’t that a bit excessive?” “Well, obviously, one is for daycare?” Beth said. “How is that obvious?” Connor asked. “Oh, I guess that’s just because of my friend’s mom who runs one?” Beth said. “Most daycares ask parents to bring in a box for their kid.” “Just not normally a nearly six-year-old?” “Nope… Kelly has written the potty dunce card to the max here!” SCENE - BRIAN’S CUBICLE AREA BRIAN IS WORKING ON THE PROJECT ASSIGNED WHILE ALSO ALTERNATING LOOKING AT SOMETHING HE DOESN’T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO SEE. SCENE SHOWS SARAH COMING TO CHECK IN ON BRIAN AND DISCOVERING SOMETHING IS UP. BRIAN REMAINS UNAWARE THAT SHE IS SUSPICIOUS. “Of course, that is exactly where someone like that would be doing that?” Connor grumbled. SCENE - SARAH’S OFFICE SARAH IS SEEN OPENING HER COMPUTER SYSTEM AND SETTING UP A WAY TO VIEW BRIAN’S CUBICLE AND WHAT HE’S LOOKING AT. SHE’S SHOCKED TO SEE HE’S RESEARCHING THEIR INTERNAL SYSTEMS ABOUT A NANITE TREATMENT THEY’VE DEVELOPED AND MARKET TO CHANGE GENDER. BEGINNING TO DIVE INTO HIS HISTORY, SHE DISCOVERS HE SEEMS TO BE OBSESSED WITH THE TOPIC AND DISCOVERED POSTS HE’S MADE WANTING TO HAVE THE TREATMENT, BUT BEING TERRIFIED OF THEN BEING ADOPTED AND MADE INTO A MINDLESS BABY LITTLE. SHE SENDS A MESSAGE TO HAILEY TO COME SEE HER. SCENE CONTINUES AS SHE COMES INTO THE OFFICE. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “What’s up, Sarah?” SARAH (MOM): SIGHS “Same as yesterday?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “More accidents today from Callie?” SARAH (MOM): “Are they really accidents if she’s back in diapers?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) GASPS “No, I guess not. I take it she ran out of chances?” SARAH (MOM): “An epic poopy blowout finished things off yesterday. Her daycare doesn’t think she should be moving on to kindergarten this year!" HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Ouch, sorry, Sarah. Anything I can do?” SARAH (MOM): “Tell me more about this buddy idea?” HAILEY GIVES HER A STUNNED LOOK. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Well, first, you’ll have to get a Little?” SARAH (MOM): “Let’s assume I’ve identified one, what’s next?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Adoption?” SARAH (MOM): “Do I have to do the whole official adoption?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) NODS “You do if you want her to go to daycare with Callie. They ask for adoption certificates when you register your Little.” SARAH (MOM): “You think it has to be a girl?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Well, they can’t show them how to use the potty like a big girl if they don’t have the same parts?” LAUGHS SARAH (MOM): “Back to the adoption process, how does it even work...?” THE SCENE SHOWS THEM TALKING FOR A WHILE, AND SARAH IS SHOWN A COUPLE OF GUIDES TO THE ADOPTION PROCESS. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Of course, we’ll have to have a baby shower for you at the office, too!” SARAH (MOM): “Let’s hold off on that part until I get her settled... I think it’ll be a bit overwhelming for her to come back to work right away. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Back to work?!?” (GASPS) “Who? We only have a couple Littles working here... And, aren’t they all guys?” SARAH (MOM): “You’ll find out after they do!” “How nice of her to tell you first?” Beth said to Connor. “I guess she is a nice boss after all?” He told her. They both facepalmed. “Let’s take a few minutes out of the virtual world for you to drink some of that cup so your grandma doesn’t chew us out.” “Probably a good idea,” I replied as we left the EdgeSphere space, and both sipped out of the cups, looking at each other. After a moment, she decided we’d drank enough. I watched Beth reposition herself on the couch before pulling me back to where my head rested against her warm body. Beth’s mouth kissed the top of my head, “At least if I’m stuck dealing with this drivel, you’re here with me.” I turned to face her and said, “Same,” as she leaned down, and I leaned up to get our lips to awkwardly meet. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading!!! Please leave me a comment and press the Like button!!! Please leave me a comment as well!!!! Thank you for all of the likes on the last chapter!!!! 💜💜💜 Please keep it going! I'll post the next chapter on Friday, like normal. If there are enough likes for this and Friday's though, you might get one more bonus post before I go to my weekly norm after that. If you’ve enjoyed this or any of my other works, consider supporting me by purchasing copies of them on Amazon Kindle! All of my completed works are available here: https://www.amazon.com/author/babysofia (And if you do so pretty please consider leaving me a 5-star review (you can leave the stars, and no public reviews are viewable then!))

Chapter 60: Shared Problems WHEN WE GOT downstairs, Grandpa presented me with a sippy cup of a special juice, “Drink this before dinner.” I looked skeptically at the babyish cup of fluid that seemed like a monster thirty-two-ounce cup back home. “All of this?” “All of it… You need one with dinner and another before bed to catch up on what you lost. That poison that girl gave you is one of the harshest I know of.” “Great…” I said, beginning to sip from the edge of the cup. “What kind of soup do you two want?” Grandma asked as she looked down at us from beside the AmeniTea. “French onion?” Beth suggested. “Same? That sounds good.” “Why don’t you two go ahead and get seated? It’ll be just a couple minutes?” Grandma said. “Beth, can you please help Connor get into his chair?” “Sure,” Beth said. I looked up at the giant high chair and watched as she pulled the tray off and moved the buckles around for a second before reaching down to pick me up. I held the sippy cup in my right hand as she pushed my arms through the straps, and I was buckled into the harness. With the tray attached, she moved the chair to be right beside a chair she sat in on the end of the table. I couldn’t help but notice she looked a little short in her chair as she sat beside me, though! “Connor, make sure you keep drinking. I doubt you’ll finish that by dinner, but get as much down as possible. Beth, do you want a booster?” Grandma asked her, apparently noticing the same thing I had. “I’m good, thanks,” she said with a blush. A few minutes later, she came to the table with plates and bowls. “Where are your phones?” Grandma asked, “In my pocket?” I said. “Same?” Beth told her. “Why don’t we put them out of the way for dinner,” she said. The rebellious remainder of a teenager in me looked stricken with that, but she gave me a look that said there was a reason. “Okay… is my watch okay?” “That one is fine,” she said. It was awkward to maneuver it out of my pocket in the chair. Still, I successfully handed it to Grandma and watched as she carried our phones into the hallway to the living room. “Okay, now why don’t we eat, and then we’ll talk,” she said as she returned. The bowl of soup on my tray was complete with the melted cheese and bread piece beneath it. Beside it on a colorful childish plate was a quartered grilled cheese sandwich, which would probably have fed me two meals on its own! Digging into the food with the small utensils I’d been provided, I was amazed that anything this good could come from a machine just putting together ingredient pods! I had finished the bread and cheese in the soup and one of the quarters before I decided to ask. “So, just how bad is this stuff I was dosed with?” Grandpa cringed, and Beth turned a little white. “Connor, I’m not going to lie to you; it’s pretty bad,” Grandpa said. “The original formula was designed to clear out a Little’s bowels for a week and had some effect on long-term bowel control for about thirty percent of those given it.” I could feel my body chill with that information. “And this stuff?” I asked. “She called it some sort of Plus version?” “It’s pretty new on the market, but the ads I’ve seen claim it’ll take bowel control of ninety-two percent of Littles for two weeks with one dose?” My appetite definitely went away then. “So I guess I’m finally going to be stuck in diapers like the rest?!?” Grandpa shrugged, “Not sure yet. You have those nanites, plus you took the emergency medicine. I don’t think it’s particularly promising, but we’ll have to wait and see.” “Eight percent don’t have that problem,” Beth told me. “You know of this drug?” She sighed, “They poisoned many of us with the original version when I was younger. One of my friends never recovered from it. I looked up the new version, and it’s definitely worse.” “Well… maybe I won’t be the only one sticking out now?” I said thoughtfully before diving in for a spoonful of soup for something to do. “What happened to that nest mother?” Beth asked. “Well, the girl, Madelyn, tried claiming she was busy checking to see if Connor needed a change of pants when the other girl did something.” “That’s not what…?” Beth said. Grandma shook her head, “No, it’s not. The other girl was the one who spiked your drink, but Madelyn was behind it. Thanks to Beth’s video, they couldn’t deny it when I showed up to Dean Northrup’s office.” “So what’s their excuse?” I asked. “Well, they’re trying to claim it was the Fire Fizz you were drinking.” I felt Beth’s eyes on me and turned to look at her, “Are you crazy? I can’t even drink that stuff?” “I thought it was pretty good, actually,” I told her. “Not something I’d get every day, but still pretty tasty. They’re trying to blame that for my sudden explosive diarrhea?” “Trying,” Grandma said, “The problem for them was the cameras in the cafeteria, which I’d already downloaded footage from showing the other nest mother, Deasia, pouring something into your drink.” “So what happens now?” Beth asked. “Well, their contracts have some pretty severe clauses in the case of proven abuse – which I and Mackenzie both successfully argued as the case here. So… let’s just say they won’t be around anymore?” “Huh?” I asked. “What’s the clause state?” Beth asked. “They can obviously be removed from their positions for abuse,” Grandma started. “That’s it?” I asked. She shook her head, “No, the clause allows for levels of punishment. Possible consequences can go all the way to being shrunk and sent into the university’s orphanage.” My mouth dropped, “Is that…?” “No, they didn’t go quite that far. They’ve both been dismissed, but for that to be the only punishment, they had to take a quadruple adult dose of LittleGo Plus themselves. I think they’ll deal with their diapers more than others for quite some time.” “That’s it, though?” Beth asked. “What about the Littles in their Nest?” “They’re going to be split up into other nests; hopefully, for their sakes, they’ll get with nicer mothers?” Amanda said. “So they just go free?” I asked. “You could press charges if you want, Connor, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Grandpa said. “With you being from the other dimension, they just have to wait out your departure date to have everything dismissed.” “So nothing else happens to them?” “I think being incontinent for at least the next year, plus being blacklisted from any companies here in Ames will be plenty?” “Blacklisted?” Beth asked. “As part of the agreement, they cannot get work with any daycare, school, health system, or other business associated with Littles or children and their care for ten years. They’re both going to register as Little Abusers in the State Registry. Both were almost done with doctorates in Early Childhood Education so that basically rules out their chosen careers?” “Just in Ames?” Beth asked. “Unfortunately, they can probably get work in Selegnasol or another state,” Grandpa said. “There’s no national registry, unfortunately.” “At least they’re out of my hair for now…” I said. “Yes, but we’ll have to see what lasting effects you have. The university will be compensating you for your damages. They want you to have an exam with the exchange health services next week.” “Great,” I grumbled. “Well, hopefully, I get a day or two of being empty before whatever we have to do,” I said glumly. “Sorry, Con,” Beth said to me. I looked over at her, “Thanks… I was just thinking the other day it was probably easier to give in and be in diapers? Looks like that may be the case now. I just hate letting those two win.” The table grew silent for a bit longer before Grandma said, “What do you two want to do now?” “We should probably look over those script adjustments?” I suggested to Beth. She made a face, “Do we have to?” “What’s wrong with the script?” Grandma asked. “Oh, I guess I haven’t filled you in, have I?” I told her. “No?” “Well, long story, but we have a girl in our ‘studio’ group who is a loudmouthed know-it-all. We had a competition to figure out ‘funds’ for an auction on scripts, and she singlehandedly lost one of the rounds for us. Because of that, we were outbid on my script.” “Sorry to hear that,” Grandpa said. “Someone is doing it, though, still?” “Yes, another group. The only positive is that our group got the money bid on the script – meaning we still benefited.” “But you’re doing another script?” Grandma asked. “Unfortunately,” Beth said. Grandma looked at her with concern, “What is this one?” “Rehash of the potty-training buddy trope,” Beth said through gritted teeth. “So I’m guessing Connor?” Grandma asked nervously. “Yep, he gets to be the lucky buddy,” Beth responded “At least it’s just him?” Grandpa asked. Beth shook her head, “Nope! You’re looking at the girl who can’t learn how to use the potty.” “Oh…” Grandma said. “Yeah…” Beth said. There was silence for a bit, “Let us know if you need help with anything?” Grandma told her. “Just because you’re acting in a role doesn’t mean you should have problems with the rest of school?” “Thanks, my parents are on standby, too. We have Charlotte Perez in our group, though; she laid down the law pretty hard with our group yesterday about anything.” “The actress?” Grandma asked. “Yes, she’s acting as the Producer for our group.” “Well, as long as you have her support, your parents’ support, and ours, you should be fine. Make sure you both do a good job on it; I don’t want to know what they will do to you if you don’t?” I nodded at that, “Probably right.” “Finish that cup off, Connor, then I’ll refill it, and you two can get to work. You still haven’t gotten a start at rehydrating enough here.” Grandpa ordered. “Yes sir,” I told him and began nursing at the juvenile sippy cup. ‘At least it’s not a baby bottle…’ I thought to myself. BETH TURNED AWAY from Connor, sucking at the sippy cup, trying not to think of him as just another Little right then. Truthfully, she fully expected that both of them would probably use those kinds of cups in the film! Instead, she found herself helping Amanda out with taking dishes to the sink. At the same time, he tried to chug the liquid his body definitely needed. When the table was cleared, she watched Connor set the large sippy cup down and fought to belch quietly. She turned and faced the wall so he wouldn’t see her smirk. As much as she knew Connor was not a baby, even she had to admit there were moments of cuteness in such a display! “Done?” Fred asked Connor. “Yes… I really have to drink another one?” He asked tentatively. “In the next hour, preferably. Do you need to go potty yet?” Connor nodded, “A little?” “Why don’t I take you upstairs and help you with that diaper? Then you and Beth can look at your script?” Beth watched Connor blush, but he nodded, “Umm… thanks.” As Fred carried Connor upstairs, Amanda asked, “Are you really doing okay, sweetheart?” Beth found herself looking up into the kindly giant woman’s eyes. “Define okay?” She shrugged, “We’ll see… I have a feeling it’s going to be a long semester.” Arms went around her, and Beth found herself appreciating the hug. “Remember, you may not be our grandchild, but we consider you family. Anything you need, you let me know! Our offer stands for having you stay with us instead of being at the dorms. It might simplify any issues?” “If things get worse, I’ll definitely take you up on that,” Beth told her. “I’m as worried about Connor, though; things were weird today. I never expected to see his nest mother and other girl sticking up for him like that.” “I don’t know what’s going on with his nest mother, but from what I found out earlier, I think the other girl has a bit of a crush on him,” Amanda told her. “Like wants him as her Little crush?” Amanda shook her head, “More as she thinks he’s a cute Little and needs to keep him safe?” Amanda sighed, “I’m not completely sure there. There may be something more too, but from the conversation I was a part of, she was definitely not happy with the way he was poisoned.” “Well, it would be nice if there were some allies… I don’t get it, though? What’s with this sudden pushback into treating all the Littles like babies? Last year, I doubt more than thirty percent of the Littles were diapered during the daytime?” “I don’t know, but some of my friends have mentioned some people are trying to push back on some of the updated laws protecting Littles here. Obviously, your video showed something is going on with their pods, too.” “Yeah, I’d forgotten about that part…?” Beth replied “Might be worth telling Connor?” Amanda said to her. “Telling me what?” Beth heard beside her. Fred had returned with Connor, now dressed in his comfortable dolphin-footed pajama set. “That your pods are causing problems?” “Oh, yeah… I meant to ask you about that last week,” Connor told her. “Huh?!?” Beth asked. “Well, they have these little domes that people noticed were new. I’ve found out they’re called ‘SleepTight Domes.’ They’re supposed to be a pretty foolproof way to make a Little pee their pants in their sleep?” “But you haven’t been?” Amanda asked him. Connor blushed, “I did this week one night, but I think it may have just been because I drank tap water?” He shrugged, “I think Mom’s nanites may be protecting me from that one. I want to eliminate the one in my pod if I can. They seem to have some tamper-proof protections, though.” Amanda and Beth stared at him, “How come you didn’t say anything about this?” “Everyone else is already wetting in their sleep. What would be the point?” Connor said. “I knew things like this were going to happen? Don’t the other Littles?” “Those things are supposed to be illegal to use on unadopted Littles!” Amanda grimaced. “They shouldn’t be using them in your dorms at all!” “I’ll let you fight that,” Connor sighed, “Beth, you ready to go see what hideous torture we’re in for in this script?” Beth was shocked as she looked back at an angry grandma and Connor, who seemed like this was the smallest of infractions that day. ‘I guess it kind of is, the more I think about it,’ Beth admitted. “Umm… Sure. Try that weird science theater thing with it you mentioned?” “Sounds like a plan!” Connor smiled at her and held his arms out to her. She took advantage of the invitation to pick him up and hugged him. “Why don’t we work in my room, though? I don’t particularly want to read about a nursery inside of a nursery, though?” “Good idea…” +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading!!! Please leave me a comment and press the Like button!!! I had a really good writing week last week and anticipate another good one this coming week. Because of that, I'm willing to do another bonus chapter (or 2?). 25 Likes by Saturday will get you a bonus on Sunday. If there's another 25 on that day, I'll give you another bonus on Tuesday! After that, my real life will get insane, and it'll be back to weekly postings until at least late December. I have enough chapters stockpiled now that even if I don't write another word, I'm good until my next writing window opens! (Which, assuming I keep going, will mean I won't have had a single week break, I think, since I started reposting earlier this year! 😎) If you wish to feed into my obsession with those wonderful little heart symbols, please press the Like button! 🙂

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.

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 have been taken to a place they really don't want to be and after some embarrassment are offered a chance at easing their troubles. Will they take Brick up on his bet? --- 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 --- “Ugh, my head…” Ben wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious but he stayed motionless with his eyes tightly closed. Every time Ben tried to open an eye he found the light incredibly painful. Slowly he was able to open his eyes into a squint, he felt incredibly disorientated and couldn’t work out where he was or how long he had been out. They weren’t moving anymore and they weren’t restrained. Ben could feel carpet against his skin all over his body, he was naked. From somewhere a few feet away he could hear a faint snoring and assumed it must be Jack. Ben’s limbs were heavy and felt uncoordinated but he dragged himself slowly over to where his friend seemed to be. He could open his eyes a little more now but his vision was blurry and looking towards anything bright caused his head to throb painfully. “Jack? Is that you?” Ben asked as he reached the other naked body. The person was lying face down on the carpet. Ben rolled the body over and found Jack. He was just as naked as Ben was but still seemed to be out. Ben shook him a little and Jack slowly started to stir. He seemed to suddenly go through all the same realisations as Ben and he jerked himself into a sitting position whilst shielding his sensitive eyes. “Where are we?” Jack quickly asked with a raspy voice, “I remember the van and then…” “I don’t know.” Ben replied, “I just woke up as well.” “Brick!” Jack suddenly shouted causing Ben to jump, “Let us out of here you son of a bitch!” There was obviously no response to Jack’s outburst and the men were left in silence on the floor. Slowly their bodies recovered from whatever drugs had been pumped through their systems. Their vision was one of the first things that returned to them and they could start working out where they were. “I don’t believe it…” Ben gasped as he looked around, “We can’t be…” The room seemed to be circular with a high roof. It was huge and seemed ready for an influx of visitors using their facilities. There were two dozen changing tables against one wall and the same amount of cribs on the opposite side. The room was filled with all the items you would expect from a fully stocked nursery. “It isn’t “Wild Rapids”.” Jack said, “Look, that door over there, that was over on that side in the other nursery. The colours are different too, we’re somewhere else.” “Who cares!?” Ben loudly replied, “We’re trapped again!” “Stay calm.” Jack urged his friend, “Getting worked up won’t help.” In the silence that followed both of the young men seemed to become very aware of how naked they were. They covered themselves up with their hands despite having seen each other naked plenty of times at this point. There were toys lining the walls as well as shelves full of supplies for babies. It was all frighteningly familiar for Ben and Jack as they looked around hopelessly. One big difference between this nursery and the one the guys had previously been trapped in was a large television screen on the wall near the door. It was showing a loop of people enjoying rides at whatever park they were in, it looked like heaven on Earth if you could believe what they were showing. As Ben stared at the screen it suddenly cut to a blue screen that said “Please Stand By…” “Jack… Look over there.” Ben pointed with his free hand at the screen. After thirty seconds the screen had changed again. Ben and Jack felt their hearts skip a beat as the unmistakable head of Brick filled the screen, he was smiling was looking directly into the camera. The speakers that had been muted were turned on with a burst of static that made both Ben and Jack jump. “Hello babies.” Brick let out a harsh laugh, “I have a great weekend planned for you and even more toys to play with, aren’t you lucky!? If you thought Wild Rapids was a trip it has nothing on this place.” “Let us go!” Jack shouted at the screen. It was pointless because Brick had obviously been planning all this for some time. “I have cameras and microphones set up all around the room so don’t be afraid to put on a show.” Brick laughed again, “But I want you to have fun here as well! So how about a little bet?” “What… What sort of bet?” Ben asked quietly. “If one of you can keep your pants dry and wet yourselves for the next two hours I’ll let you choose which bathroom you use.” Brick said, “But if I win it will be diapers for the whole time you are here.” “Deal.” Both Jack and Ben said simultaneously. In truth both the guys assumed they would be in diapers the whole time anyway so this seemed like an opportunity to improve their situation without risk. Despite this they weren’t happy by the way Brick grinned at them. “Well, I better go then.” Brick said, “I think I hear lunch being prepared.” The screen cut to black leaving Ben and Jack alone and looking at each other. They started mentally preparing themselves for staying dry, they were sure Brick wouldn’t make it easy for them. The screen flashed for a second and then a countdown appeared on it. Counting backwards from two hours seeing the numbers seemed to make both men very aware of their bladders. A sound above them made Jack and Ben look up. They were shocked as panels in the high ceiling slid open and metal arms started coming down like vines. The arms moved like snakes and seemed infinitely flexible. There were hands on the ends of the arms, with only three fingers and a thumb covered in a padded white glove it made them look almost cartoonish. Ben felt an instinct to run whilst Jack stared at the descending limbs as if mesmerised. Ben scampered away to one of the walls and watched as Jack was grabbed by the arms and effortlessly lifted off the floor. More of the snake-like arms twisted and came after Ben whose terror caused him to continue running. He was chased briefly but there were too many arms and they were too fast for him. As he was lifted into the air like his friend he looked up and thought the way the arms swayed and moved independently made them look like the tentacles of a giant octopus. To both boys surprise the first thing the arms did was clothe them. Part of them at least, they were both dressed in a tight pair of white y-fronts and then tan pants were pulled up over the top. As the boys were manipulated in the air they didn’t notice as two panels slid open on the floor. Two mannequins were lifted up, they were female but quite inanimate compared to the arms and nurses that were mechanised. The arms carried the helpless boys over to the mannequins. They acted as the arms for the inanimate female forms and cradled Ben and Jack against their chests. The two men were both very shocked to see that the otherwise featureless mannequins had quite pronounced and realistic female breasts. It felt humiliating to be cradled like this. “No! No! No!” Jack said as he put his hands out to try and block what he was sure was about to happen. The mechanical arms pulled Jack’s arms away and his head was thrust against the soft and fleshy feeling breast. At the same time Ben was similarly moved and they could feel the nipples against their lips. Jack resisted opening his mouth but he could only hold off for so long. His mouth opened and the teat was thrust forwards. He tried not to start nursing like an infant but there seemed an almost instinctive need to suck. Eventually he couldn’t stop himself and reasoned that the arms wouldn’t let him go until he did it anyway. Both boys ended up suckling from the fake breasts like baby animals despite their embarrassment. Milk started flowing from the mannequins and the two boys were forced to swallow the very sweet liquid. They despaired to think about how they must look at that moment, cradled against these breasts whilst they nursed. Their stomachs started to fill but the mechanical arms showed no signs of letting them go. After a few minutes they could feel their stomachs growing bulbous but despite their fullness they were forced to keep drinking. Milk spilled out the corners of their mouths and their tummies bulged out dramatically. Jack would’ve given anything to stop the flow of liquid but all he could do was swallow rhythmically as he moaned around the nipple. They were nursed for ten full minutes before the mechanised arms let Ben and Jack pull away. They were both feeling incredibly bloated having been force fed more milk then their bodies could handle. They could hear their stomach churn and they knew that their bodies were working overtime to push as much liquid as possible through to the bladder, what happened after that was inevitable and the only question was over how long they could delay it. The mechanised hands weren’t finished yet. Ben and Jack were lifted and put over the shoulder of the mannequins in perfect synchronisation. They were held in position for a few moments before the big gloved hands started patting them strongly on their backs. Jack was the first to pop and he let out a very loud burp, he blushed but felt a lot better. Ben belched equally loudly a couple of seconds later. “Just hold on!” Jack called out to Ben although he was talking just as much to himself. The men were lifted in the air again after the burping and carried back towards the centre of the room. With their faces pressed up against the breasts and then facing the wall for the burping they had not noticed robotic nurses moving more items into the centre of the room. It was towards this equipment that Ben and Jack now found themselves being taken. Jack was lowered into a large white playpen that had a high net dome over the top to prevent escape. The gate was closed before Jack could scamper back out and he was trapped inside. The thin metal bars were stronger than they looked and despite the young man pulling on them he couldn’t bend them at all. The milk that was sloshing around his stomach forced him to stop exerting himself quickly otherwise he thought he was going to throw up. He grabbed on to the bars and watched with concern as Ben was taken to the other piece of baby equipment. Ben was taken to a bouncer placed just a few feet from the playpen. The ceiling was too high for it to hang from but a metal frame had been brought in and the baby bouncer was hanging from it. His legs were fed through the holes and he was lowered down, the elastic material caused him to start bobbing up and down almost immediately. The elastic seat was pulled tight against Ben and he couldn’t pull himself out of it at all, like Jack the milk soon threatened to overwhelm him and he had to stop fighting. As the robot nurses retreated to a safe distance and the arms went back into the ceiling a sound of dripping water started playing over the speakers. Ben’s bouncer was facing away from the television screen but when he heard the noise he rolled his eyes. “How long do we have left?” Ben asked. His legs shook involuntarily. “One hour and forty-five minutes.” Jack stated, “You doing OK?” Ben didn’t answer. He was feeling the effects of the milk already and although he didn’t want to admit it he was already feeling very unconfident that he would stay dry for two hours. He hoped that Jack was in a better position than he was. Time seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly and the urgency in both of their bladders was only growing. Ben was hopping from one leg to the other but it felt like he was about to explode. Jack was laying on the floor next to the fence, he was trying to forget his bladder issues with some kind of Zen meditation. “Turn that damn sound off!” Ben yelled angrily as he reached the very limit of his control. “Stay calm, Ben.” Jack said loud enough to be heard, “It’ll only ma-” “It’s too late.” Ben gasped. Ben looked down to his crotch where he could feel warmth already spreading. He cringed as he felt the muscles restraining his bladder give way completely, the piss he had been desperately holding poured out like a faucet that had been fully opened. With no diaper between his legs the urine quickly saturated his underwear and then started running down his legs leaving streaks in his pants. The pee dripped out the bottom of the clothes and started pooling below Ben’s feet. He slumped in his bouncer as he felt the wet streaks rapidly cooling. Ben sniffed disconsolately, wet pants were a lot less comfortable than a wet diaper had been. He was blushing and couldn’t look at Jack even as he finally finished wetting himself. “It’s OK.” Jack said as he sat up and watched his friend, “You couldn’t help it.” Jack turned to look at the clock and saw there was still ten minutes to hold out. He didn’t know if he had ever been more desperate for the bathroom than that moment. Jack’s body was begging to release the urine that was building up but he was holding on no matter how much pain it cost him. He saw the robot nurses moving on to Ben, they didn’t release him from his bouncy hell but they started cleaning the puddle that had formed underneath him. Somehow it made the embarrassing situation feel even more shameful. Ten… Nine… Eight… The minutes dragged very slowly for Jack who was sweating from the effort of holding in the urine. He tried pacing but found that even small steps made his need to pee grow. Seven… Six… Five… Jack could see that Ben was ignoring his own discomfort to cheer Jack on. He shouted encouragement as if he were the coach at a sporting event. Jack was resolute in resisting the pressure and pain until the timer ended, he was so close he could almost see the toilet in front of him. He wanted to avoid the embarrassment of wetting himself, he wanted to avoid having to use diapers for the weekend but, more than anything, he wanted to beat Brick. Four… Three… Two… Jack was counting down the seconds. A small dribble escaped his body and the thin cotton of the underpants absorbed it. He showed no sign of the turmoil that was happening inside him and he was sure he had got away with his small slip. His bladder felt like it was truly about to burst and he had to reach down with his hands to hold his crotch, he didn’t care how he looked as long as he stopped the piss that filled his bladder. “One minute!” Ben yelled excitedly as he twisted his head as far as he could to see the clock on the television screen, “You’re going to do it!” Jack wasn’t so sure that he could survive the final sixty seconds because it felt like he was going to explode. He was so desperate to pee that he actually wanted to wet himself to end the torment, it was only his stubbornness that forced him to fight. Jack wasn’t going to make it, he could feel his bladder screaming and his muscles just couldn’t take it anymore. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and prepared himself from the inevitable loss of control. “You did it!” Ben’s voice broke through the desperation. Jack suddenly opened his eyes. He looked up at the screen to see all zeroes, despite everything he had made it. Ben and Jack had won the bet!

Chapter VI There was no hiding it. There was no denying it. I'd wet myself, at work, in front of my boss, in front of his wife. Tears poured down my cheeks and I couldn't stop shaking. My dress was soaked. The tights were soaked. My chair, the office carpet... how had this happened? Why had I let this happen? I was so humiliated. I'd never come back from this. I wouldn't be surprised if they fired me right here, on the spot. What kind of office manager was I? How could anyone depend on me? "Oh Natalie, darling, what a mess you've made." Cora sighed sharply, allowing a brief glimpse at her exacerbation, before she fell into an over-the-top maternal mode. After all, Natalie should feel out of control of herself, and yet safe to come to either of her new benefactors. "Darling husband, what are you staring at? Shoo shoo, this is women's business." I glanced up to see the annoyance on Mr. Gladstone's face as he left the room. The door shut behind him and my silent crying turned into outright sobbing. My chest heaved as I struggled for air and buried my head in my desk. What was I going to do? Then I felt Cora's hand on my back. With one hand upon the crying girl’s back and the other with fingers in her hair, Cora pulled her in close for a full body cuddle. It was far more close and initiate than what might have been expected from the woman who was functionally her boss. "There there, Natalie, let it all out, let those tears out darling." Cora pulled the crying girl’s face against her shoulder and played with her hair. I wanted to push her away. I was soaking wet and disgusting. She shouldn't be here! But her words were so soft, her touch was so gentle... as she pulled my head into her shoulder, she was so warm. I clung to her shirt and wept. I didn't want to go back to work. I didn't want to see Mr. Gladstone. I didn't want to face what I'd done... "I'm so sorry... I'm so so so sorry..." "You made a mistake, darling, you made a simple little error of judgement because you were far too busy trying to think, that's all. You should have called me, darling, phoned me up and let me help, sometimes it's alright to let someone else manage this tough stuff. There's no shame in that, no shame whatsoever." Cora's words were softly spoken, which helped to disguise how cutting they could be seen as in a certain light. I was still crying. No matter how long I cried, the tears never seemed to dry up. I wiped them off my cheeks, away from my eyes, but new ones took their place. "He's gonna fire me..." "Oh, he will not." "I'd fire me... I'm so... I'm so stupid... I can't believe I..." "You're doing great with your work, Nattie. You're getting things in on time and the quality of it is just marvelous, I promise you. You're doing so well here, and this little accident is... embarrassing, yes, sure, but it’s not the end of the world." Cora waited in thought, hung her words up like a coat on a rack and let them rest, before departing on her next verbal tirade. "Maybe there's a way you could show how devoted you are to not letting another accident happen?" I looked up at Cora with wet eyes, curious and scared. If I lost this job, I would have to move. What else could I do? No, this meant too much to me... to Sam, to everyone. I wiped my eyes one more time and nodded my head. "I won't let it happen again... this time was just... it was just a mistake. I would never let it happen again..." "You could always take some precautions, you know; when I was a girl I had such dreadful nighttime accidents that would have prevented me from slumber parties, staying over with boys… in fact, I might never have met Mr. Gladstone! But I took a precaution, and never looked back." Cora's phone buzzed in her pocket and she took it out, looked at it, and sighed. "Oh shoot..." Now the notion of precautions, protections, had been planted in Natalie, and Cora's apparent distraction would only be fuel for that. "It was just a one-time mistake," I told her. Or was I reassuring myself. "Hopefully my husband sees it the same way," Cora said offhandedly and a chill ran up my spine. What if he didn't? Did he think this would happen again? But more pressingly... "What am I supposed to do about my dress? I can't go out there like this..." And there was the six million dollar question. Cora's brow furrowed and she tapped her chin thoughtfully, followed by a triumphant finger wave. "We'll just have to get you something new to wear, that's what we'll have to do." Of course, she'd either have to sit here in her wet dress all afternoon and wait, or else walk by the entire staff of the office in a walk of shame. "I don't bring spare clothes to work," I said with a touch of annoyance, brushing away the rest of my tears and looking down shamefully at the wet patch on the front of my dress. Damnit... "And I can't let anyone else see me like this... they won't respect me." "Well, I could go and get you something from the store, I suppose..." Cora said, trailing off. "Here, have something to eat," she began, nodding to the plastic bag of food she'd set down on the desk when she entered. “And sit tight, I'll be back with something cute for you to wear, and we can talk about future precautions to prevent this ever from happening again." "It won't happen again," I repeated, but Cora left without saying another word. She shut the door behind her. I looked down at the plastic bag and took out a Chinese container. Suddenly, I realized how hungry I was. And I couldn't leave until Cora got back, or until the office was empty. I checked the clock: 2:38. Well, I might as well enjoy the food... "Do you think she's going to take the bait?" Mr. Gladstone stroked his chin, looking out the large window in his office as his wife ate her own lunch, looking down at the bag of clothes that had been packed and prepared in advance. Cora shrugged her shoulders. "I don't rightly know, but she's quite distraught; something tells me it could go either way because her haughtiness is arching up somewhat." The man turned around and fished his hand into the bag of shrimp crackers thoughtfully. "I trust you to mitigate that, dearest wife of mine." The clothes in the bag, folded neatly by the door; they were far more ambitious and bold than anything Cora had coerced the girl into wearing to date. They were, in every regard, a risk. A calculated risk. And the padded training panties more so than anything else. I kept telling myself that someone was bound to walk in. This time of day, I got a lot of questions. Maisie or Prin would knock. They'd open the door. I had cleaned up the carpet and the chair with the Chinese napkins, but my dress was still wet. What if they noticed? No, I'd stay hidden behind my desk. What if I had to stand up? I wouldn't. But my worries were unfounded: after an hour, not a single person knocked. Then, suddenly, someone did. The door opened and Cora walked in with a bag in her hands. I let out a sigh of relief. "I'm ever so sorry for taking so long. You know, I went to the closest place I could think of and I paid through the nose despite, but I knew how distressed you were my darling girl. How worried and concerned. And I didn't want for you to have to wait any longer than you needed to." And the fact that the new ensemble was tantamount to pastel pink shortalls with prints all over them suddenly got easier to swallow thanks to the power of guilt! Cora handed me the bag of clothes and I shuffled through them. Then my cheeks went crimson. "I... I can't wear that here. It's unprofessional." But the look of unease on Cora's face was more than I could handle. She went all the way to the store for me. "I... um. I just don't want to... draw attention, or..." "This is entirely within your fashion palette, darling, I made sure of it." Even the new panties, the padded ones, were cutely designed and it was difficult to tell at a glance just how thick they were without touching them. "And I paid quite a lot for them, when there were cheaper options far less cute and far less you." "Right, but..." Cora looked at me with a mixture of irritation and disappointment. Damnit... "I guess anything is better than a piss-soaked dress, right?" I tried to laugh at my own joke, but it fell flat. Ugh, this was so embarrassing. "I guess I'll get changed..." "Get changed into everything in the bag, understand me darling? I need everything you peed on so I can get it dry cleaned; your new clothes are dry-clean only too, so keep that in mind. The help at the house," meaning Sam, "can take care of all that, though; you don't need to worry your pretty head over it." I stripped down to my underwear and my bra, leaving the wet clothes balled up in a pile on the floor. Cora never left the room, but I wasn't self-conscious about my body. I wasn't known as a town whore for nothing, right? Ha. But when I emptied the bag out on the desk, a pair of panties fell out. At first, they looked like normal briefs. Then, I picked them up. Surely they weren't... "Cora, uh... what are these supposed to be?" "They're a precaution." Cora stated simply, a little tuft of pride in her voice and her chest puffed out to match. "Nobody will know you're wearing them, and if you do have another accident," she preempted the sassy defiant response with a finger pressed to the girl’s lips. "If you do, they'll soak up and you won't have to wait for me to go get you new clothes. You'll be able to be independent and handle it yourself. No fussing, darling." "Absolutely not," I said sharply. "There is no way. I'm not a toddler. I don't need training pants!" I tossed the thick panties back into the bag. "It was one stupid accident and it's not even a big deal!" "Darling." Cora was calm, measured, confident, more like a scientist mixing chemicals than a bartender mixing drinks; she spoke clearly. "You always fight me on these things, and I'm always right. Can't you see how much I look out for you, how much I go the extra mile, and you still argue with me." And like a scientist, sometimes what she mixed up was toxic, dangerous, and powerful. "But--" "If you don't need them, then this is no different to wearing any other underwear." "No, it's--" “And it will put my husband's mind at ease." "But..." "So it seems like an obvious decision." I looked up at Cora with frustration. Because she was right. Because I was throwing a tantrum over a really stupid thing. And I hated to admit it. "This isn't fair," I muttered under my breath. "A lot of things in life aren't fair, darling." Cora stopped short of reminding the girl of her own indiscretions in the past, how she became a pariah, a town whore, and how her and her husband had taken a risk on her. But even without reminding her of that directly, it was pretty clear to the two of them that the events had happened. Cora leaned in, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. "There's a good girl." I looked stupid. I felt stupid. The pale pink shortalls looked even more childish on my person, and it didn't help to know that I was literally wearing training pants underneath it. Cora bundled all my wet clothes in the shopping bag and wished me a good day before taking off. I sat behind my desk, pouting. This was the worst day I'd had in a long time, and I was eager for it to be over. One hour to go... ----------------- Like & Comment! Please consider supporting us on Patreon! Thank you for reading!

Chapter IV "What's with the outfit?" "Huh? Oh..." I looked down at the capri pants and the rainbow tee. "There's no way you went to work dressed like that," Sam said seriously, like I'd just jeopardized my entire career or something. "No, of course not. But everyone thought I was standoffish or whatever, so I changed. And they responded a lot better to these clothes, so..." I shrugged my shoulders and sat on the edge of Sam's bed. Her room was a little smaller than mine, with a little less attention to detail. To top it off, she had a twin sized bed. Poor girl. "Well, I'm glad that you were off getting to dress cute and meet new friends in the office. Do you wanna know what I did today?" Sam was using smaller words, struggling with keeping her breath in longer sentences because of the corset, but she actually seemed to be taking it in stride! "I learned how to breathe again. And then I dusted a library. Did you know they have a library and that every book needs to be dusted individually?" "That sucks." "You have no idea. And now I have to go downstairs and make you dinner." "No you don't. I'll order a pizza or something. I can afford it now." I got up from her bed and led the way down the stairs. She struggled with each step, like they were as much a burden to descend as they were to climb. And worse yet, we had to go down two flights before we hit the foyer. Big houses, lots of walking. Maybe that's how rich people stay thin. "I'm really supposed to be making food for you," Sam protested, though it was half-hearted, like she wanted to be talked out of this. "They want you to feel cared for and looked after, and for me to learn 'servitude humility' whatever that means, something about us not seeing each other on the same station... or something." Sam thought it was dumb. Sam was getting paid a lot to not care. "Well, that's super sweet of Mr. Gladstone, but I don't need to be looked after." Just as I turned the corner in the foyer, I nearly bumped right into a maid. She was older, shorter, and rounder than me, with brown hair pulled back in a bun. She was holding a silver tray in her arms and wore irritation on her face. "Oh, um. Sorry..." "That's quite alright, Lady Anderson, my apologies for being so careless.” She was kind and sweet and Italian, but her tone shifted dramatically when talking to Sam. "Samantha, have you prepared dinner for the Little Miss yet? You seem to be bumbling about and wasting her precious time." "Oh, uh, well Sam and I are going to order some pizza actually. So there's no need to make me any dinner." I said it with a smile, but the middle-aged woman shook her head and clicked her tongue like I'd said the silliest thing in the world. "Samantha, one of your duties is to provide nutritional meals to your Little Miss, and ordering greasy and carbohydrate laden pizza will give her curves where she doesn't want them. Get to the kitchen and make her a meal." Ordinarily, Sam would have been a living sass machine and not taken that kind of response. But she mumbled her agreement before taking off to the kitchen. "I... what?" Sam turned on her heel and went into the kitchen again and I stood dumbfounded in the foyer. What just happened? I found the power to move my feet and hurried after the maid and my best friend. "I can make my own decisions about what I eat. And I want pizza. Come on Sam, let's go." "Nata-" The older maid clucked her tongue and Samantha winced, pouting. "I mean, Lady Anderson," Sam corrected herself, with one hand balled into a fist at her side, clearly unhappy. "I'm on work hours, and it would be unprofessional of me to simply abandon my duties..." Her words were uncertain, unpracticed, said through gritted teeth, but also with a look of hopefulness for approval up at her supervisory matron. "You don't have to call me that," I said with about as much annoyance as Sam, but the old woman corrected me. "It's the rules of Mr. Gladstone. You wouldn't want to violate his rules, would you?" I looked down at her serious expression, then up at my friend. If Sam didn't follow the rules, she would get fired. If she got fired, what would happen to me? Suddenly my annoyance turned to worry. "Oh..." "Manners and etiquette are not a sometimes thing, Lady Anderson. For help in the employ of Mr. Gladstone, this is a way of life. Please do your best to be strict on Samantha; it's taking her some time to adjust. Now, what were your plans?" For Sam to make dinner. That was the one right answer. "I guess Sam can make dinner," I said quietly, at my feet. I looked up to see my best friend roll her eyes. She was annoyed. She didn't want to be doting on me. But I didn't want her to dote on me either! But my job... ugh this was a mess. "I don't even know how to cook," Sam lamented to her best friend, although by then a half hour had passed - Natalie had gone up to her room, Sam had gone to the kitchen, then Natalie had snuck back down to talk to her. Even now, she was obviously nervous because she hid in the doorway. Sam, to her credit, seemed to be doing quite a good job, because Sam full-well knew how to cook; she just hated doing it. "What are you making, anyway?" "Grilled fish and green beans." "I don't like either of those things," I said sourly. But what Mr. Gladstone had said rang in my head. They were giving me a place to live. They were giving me a job. The least I could do was eat some green beans. But fish? Ick... "It's what's on your meal plan," Sam offered, like knowing that fact would help in the slightest little bit to the fact her best friend wouldn't like any of the meal presented. "Mr. Gladstone said it would be good for your temperament and your skin and hair and stuff." There was definitely something in her tone, something... beaten down. Like Sam was already accepting her role here. "Why does this guy care so much about what I do?" "Investment in an employee?" "Maybe," I sighed. After all, I was a pretty big investment. But I would never take such an interest in my employees. Maybe it was just the way he was... "Cora took me shopping today, and I had a pretty good time. I like her attitude. She does what she wants." "Yeah? You do what you want, too. What's gonna happen if what she wants and what you want are different?" Sam didn't sound bitter, though, as easily as she might have when saying that. Instead, she sounded... concerned. Was she trying to poke holes in this? We had a good thing going. Yeah, we couldn't order pizza. But we were making a ton of money here and we didn't even have bills to pay! "Don't worry about me," I told Sam. "At least I don't have to cook my own meals." Yeah, it was a cheap shot. "You think I want to be doing this, Nat?" Calling her Nat was a risky move, but she was emotional. "You think I want to be a maid for my best friend?” One of the other maids came out of the walk in with some supplies in her hand, smiled silently, and walked out of the kitchen. It seemed to take away the wind in Natalie's sails. “I didn’t say you did,” I said flatly. But the silence had grown too heavy between us. “Whatever,” I muttered, and left my best friend alone in the kitchen. We had spats all the time, I wasn't worried about it. By the time she came upstairs with the tray in her hands, we were back to normal. Two friends. But one thing was different - this time, when I avoided my green beans, it was Sam who said something. "Finish your food, Natalie." And out of courtesy for her cooking, I did.

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 5: Samantha Samantha was on her walk back from school. Even though her mom always offered to drive her home, Samantha preferred the walk. It was a nice way to unwind after a hard school days work. She arrived home to the sounds of crying. Samantha looked into the living room and saw her sister crying on the couch; the smell was horrendous. Samantha went up and hugged her sister; it smelled worse near her. Samantha tried to calm Megan down the best she could, but to know avail. Samantha finally looked down and saw Megan's discolored Pamper. Samantha sighed. "This again?" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Samantha had known for years about Megan's fetish; she had accidentally walked in on her during one of her late night changings. Well, at least Megan didn't know. She was so preoccupied she didn't even notice Samantha walk in. Samantha rushed out before anything happend. Samantha's first reaction was "Eww.". But she wasn't suprised. Her mom had told her before about Megan at five. Technically, she wasn't potty trained until she was 7. But did Megan need them for protection? Samantha wasn't sure...that is, until now. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Samantha hugged her sister tightly. Well she was repulsed, she knew her sister needed her. Despite the five year age gap, Megan and Samantha were really close. They hardly ever fought, and hung out together often. Samantha knew what she had to do. "I'll be back," she whispered to her sister. She ran up and grabbed one of the Pampers beneath Megan's bed. She once saw Megan grab one from there. She stopped by her brothers room and grabbed the wipes. She didn't like what she had to do...but she was going to do it. She grabbed a towel and headed upstairs. She laid the towel on the ground and told her sister to lay down. Megan looked horrified. Samantha sighed, "Mom's going to be home soon, and, unless you want her to see you like this, I suggest you lay down." Megan shook her head, "I'll just go take a shower. You can watch Max.". Samantha shook her head, "It was your job to watch Max. She'll get mad if I do it. Now get on the floor." Megan, seeing no other option, did as she was told. Samantha took a last deep breath. She grabbed Megan's shirt and took it off. Megan was left on the floor with a bra and a dirty Pamper. Samantha undid the tapes and a ghastly smell emitted from the diaper. Megan wasn't even looking at Samantha; tears were welling up in her eyes. Samantha undid the crotch area and saw a yellow discoloration; she must have peed herself as well. Finally, Samantha asked Megan to lift her legs. Samantha gagged. The diaper was a mess of poop, and Megan's butt was smeared more so. But even poop smeared, Samantha was envious. She looked so beautiful all the time. Samantha began wiping down Megan. Around the 4th wipe, Megan's feet and butt sank and collasped back on the dirty diaper. "What the hell-" Samantha looked down and saw her sister was asleep mid change. Samantha remembered her mom mentioning that happening a lot during Megan's diaper tenure. Suddenly, Samantha heard a hizz and, to her horror, realized her sister was peeing before her eyes. Samantha grabbed the diaper and held on tight. She stopped about 5 seconds later. Samantha cleaned up her front and, directly afterwards, flipped her over. It was a mess, but Samantha made it squeaky clean. Samantha re diapered her and put her jeans on. Megan was asleep the whole time.

Chapter 2: Rude Awakening Megan awoke feeling safe, refreshed, and...odd. Something was wrong. She looked at her clock; it was 5:17 and 18 degrees out. No wonder she felt cold. To drowsy to realize what had happened, Megan feel back to sleep. She awoke again to the sound of her Mom yelling at her sister. She yawned, still to tired to notice something was wrong. She got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She noticed the toilet bowl was filled; she had forgotten to flush it the night before. She bent over to flush it when something had caught the corner of her eye. She observed her diapered butt in the mirror across from her. It was...discolored. Megan gasped in horror. The cold. The odd feeling. It all made sense. Over the night, Megan had wet her diaper!