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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

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.

It's forced to be quick based on the events of LCW. I thought that meant it'd be a shorter story too! (muse got carried away) Thanks for the comments! 🙂 I replied to you earlier in this earlier in the thread, I can't possibly cover everything that is supposedly 'canon' or not 'canon' on this. My work Seems Too Good has some ideas here at the beginning of it. But just go to this list and start reading. Plenty of novels, short stories, and novellas to read.

Congrats on the new additions to your family. I'm a parent of 3 and grandparent to 7. I never had any issue being a parent and ABDL. Think of yourself as a superhero, Superdad during the day, ABDL by night. It's been my experience that the urges can never be banished but they can me managed and scheduled. You have the power within you to be a good dad for your twins, you just need to believe in yourself. Hugs, Freta

What has been your biggest achievement in 2024? I even set mine as a New Year's Resolution. I was on the verge of finishing Duolingo in January, and set myself the goal of speaking Norwegian fluently by the end of the year. Given that no one in South Africa speaks the language etc, I had to find different ways to do it, but... I have now done it. The next step is to find a way to have spoken conversations, since I was fluently writing by July.

We need more male abdl podcast, because it's hard to find good ones on YouTube or anywhere else. The only one I I found that I like is Newsly Nook. I have cuz I have thought of doing podcast once but I don't think I have the time or the Privacy to

We're taking a quick detour back the next few chapters, to look at the regression of Mira, which was hinted in an earlier chapter. The chapters are on the shorter side again, so I'll quickly post them over the weekend. Once we start chapter 15 we will be about 20% through the book, and return to Oliver. I'll blitz through another 10% next week, and from that point on the book will mostly follow Oliver and Ben. If you have any questions, or comments feel free to post, I'll be happy to go into more detail what's going on! Chapter 12: Take it back to old times. Back when I was still a girl. September 5th, 2020, Salinas, California - Earth “You're not my real dad!” Mira shouted as the door to her room was closed. It was sometime after Charlie's regression but before Howard 'remarried', and Mira was in her terrible twos again. The Charlie with the tank sheets and diapers not the Charlie who was over ten feet tall and couldn't be trusted to watch the Home Shopping Channel. It's confusing. The diaper dimension was always confusing even from the beginning. Alisa met her double, swapped bodies, was in a baby nursery, became the babysitter, became Emily for a while, who was secretly an Amazon who owned an entertainment channel, but had been turned into a baby. Or maybe a doll? Was Alice a news reporter, or was she the scientist's assistant? Was Naomi and Oliver World a news network or a cartoon? Why would you need to build an entire Truman Show just to film advertisements of a girl as your diaper model? And what was going on at the end with the TVs? These stories were a bit too complicated to follow sometimes. Just keep things simple. Ten-foot-tall people, like to turn normal sized people into babies. Back to Earth though, the real problem with turning an adult into a child is that it is a slow process, and at least the Amazons appreciate that. Sometimes they could wave a wand and you would crap your pants, but that only started the transformation. To be fair to Howard, he had never done anything like this before. No one on his planet had. Think of all the stuff you must get right to properly regress an adult without their permission. He did not even know where to begin to look for ideas on such a crazy thing. The real world is not designed for turning people into babies. There were things you could buy online, paraphernalia to assist with all sorts of sexual fantasies, everything from a big crib to adult versions of the stuff you had as a child. Plenty of clothes and sippy cups, but nothing to help with the actual problems though. • Doesn't Mira have a job? • Could she run into a neighbor if she found her way outside? • Doesn't Howard also still have a job he needs to go to? • Who would he hire to babysit that could be trusted? With the last one he could still find all sorts of people willing to babysit an adult, but they are all about consent and no amount of “we're roleplaying really hard here” was going to cut it. You can't bring her to the store unless you went the full length of treating her like she was mentally handicapped. This story has already established she has parents. What happens when they call her? Do not answer? What if they stop by? What sort of legal recourse do you think they might try if they suspected Howard was doing something? What about his parents? The one thing that helped is that it was the summer of twenty twenty and the country was still in lockdown. He just told everyone she had gotten some variant and that bought him two weeks to figure this out. Grace hit a hole-in-one with Charlie, she picked a man who could disappear and who society would not question if he started wetting himself. He would even be paid to not work. He was estranged from his family, had few real friends, and his work colleagues hated him. Plus, the two had a sex-adjacent thing going, and Charles still felt a bit guilty over that, so was a bit more prepared to go along with his punishment. Grace also had access to Amazons for advice on how to best deal with her new little. She volunteered for a few excursions and picked up some delightful material on parenting while she was there. She even ordered a swing set, which was not cheap. Something that big was not something you could easily find here on Earth. Her new boss was a bit confused on that expense, but she just said it was her equivalent of eating a dodo bird, and he let it slide. Mira was a smart one. She knew how Howard wanted to parent children and was actively undermining it at every step. She had been married to him for nearly two decades and knew which of his buttons to push. Howard, despite thinking he was an expert, was a bit out of practice in handling naughty children. Mommy may have been a bit more load bearing last time around than he gave her credit for. Howard had thought he had locked Mira in, but she had found a way to pop the door and still get out. She knew not to go outside without an adult, or to talk to strangers, but what about playing with the oven? Howard was smart to get rid of the matches in the house, but she could turn the knobs all the way up and put the mac and cheese boxes in the stove and see what happened. Fortunately for Howard he had set up a camera network and programmed some alerts to his phone. He immediately dropped the carton of milk in the supermarket, ran to the car, sped sixty in a twenty mile per hour zone and got to the house in time with only a minimum of damage to the paint on the kitchen walls. The oven would be impossible to clean and would need to be replaced. The kitchen would smell of smoke for months and would need new paint. There was some scorching on the cabinetry as well, so he would need to install new ones. Mira had probably spent twenty-five grand in the kitchen in the past seven years, just keeping the style updated. Now the only thing she cared to do was break her toys. In her mind she had only played with the kitchen set for like a week after she got it, and besides Howard would just buy her another one. He spanked her. It was one more spanking than Grace ever got. Mira was then relegated to staring at the corner the rest of the day. She cried and cried and cried when he said she was never allowed to touch any appliance again. Or make food for herself again. He spent an afternoon childproofing the house for the tenth time, this time with an eye for all the things an adult woman with an education in biochemistry could use to really mess him up. That was day three. He had not slept more than three hours since the project began. He called Grace out of desperation. He had wanted to be a cool dad, to raise his child in a free and relaxed manner, and in less than a week Mira had nearly set the house on fire. “I don't understand why Charles is so good and Mira is so bad.” His face was red, and he buried his head in his arm. Grace reached out and touched his hair before answering. “It's because boys are less mature than girls. She has farther to grow down. Have you considered getting her all the way to zero?” He turned his head and then pushed back up, “There's nothing I've done that can't be undone, but if I go that far... Look, the issue is she doesn't see me as daddy. How'd Charles come to see you as mommy?” She thought of it, came to an answer, but realized it was wrong, her mouth had moved to start explaining but then stopped. Just go to the source. “Charlie, can you come here?” Charles waddled into the room. His arms crossed and he frowned as he looked at Grace and Howard at the dining room table. It was not easy to notice but his diaper had added some weight to his front crotch. He was a bit perturbed to be missing the rest of his shows. “Mommy?” Grace just decided to rip the band-aid off. “This is a weird question, but Mira has been having trouble seeing Howard as her father, but you haven't had any issues with calling me mommy. Why do you see me as mommy?” “Um... because mommy looks like mommy.” It took a second for it to trigger for Howard, who collapsed harder into the table with a heavy sigh. He picked up his head and asked bluntly, “Charlie, are you saying Grace looks like her grandmother?” He tilted his head, and a sniffle began to appear. “I... don't know.” He shook his head and found the path, “I haven't seen mommy in a while, and she's had some changes, but her face and nose and ears and hair are the same. You smell like mommy.” Grace shook her head, “Mom doesn't see you as her dad because you don't look like grandpa.” The voice was powerful, but it could not fix something like that. It was hopeless. His tired eyes drifted to the smart device across the room. The small screen was filtering through pictures. It stopped a second on Alan Wu and Grace at her High School graduation, from just over a year ago, both smiling for the camera and Grace in cap and gown. Howard was in the background waving. The scene changed, folding out Alan, Grace, and Howard, replacing each part of the scene one small part at a time. Alan's face became Howard's and Grace's now became a younger Mira. She was smiling for the camera in her cap and gown, Alan in the background waving with a young Grace in his arms. It felt wrong, stealing a father like that, but Mira had done it to her own daughter, so this was karma right? He asked Grace to stay the weekend and watch her parents. He picked up the phone, called his father-in-law, and explained that he wanted to visit. He told them he had a project he was working on for his anniversary and wanted to keep it a secret. How did that story he used to read to Grace go? Tonight, tonight, my plans I make, tomorrow tomorrow, the baby I take. * * * One of Howard's first tasks was to assign Bonny to keep the photographs coming. She had a system in place for the photos, but it was all buried in boxes deep in storage. She brought up another cardboard box labeled 'save – photos', which had been wrapped in brown acrylic tape. The precious memories had been preserved like a mummy, and if not for his expedition might been buried in the basement forever. “This looks like the nineties. I see a picture of Mira's first car at the top.” Bonny offered as she entered the room with another box. “Oh, this is just wonderful, thank you, she's going to be thrilled.” Howard faked the delight. They were into at least hour six by this point. Of course they took breaks, as reasonable, and Bonny was more than happy to serve food and drinks to keep Alan and Howard going. Howard passed another set of photos to Alan who explained, “Yes, this was nineteen eighty-seven, Disney Land. What a fun time. You can see little Mira here. She was eight” Unlike the other photos, this one had a professional gloss. The older man pointed to a younger him in the second row holding a young girl with her arms way up in the air. A giant splash of water was about to hit them. “I held on to her so tight and she just laughed. She wanted to go on the ride again, but it was getting late, and the line was a mile long. We told her we'd go again some other time.” His voice started to shake a bit, “Oh, that was the last time we went. We cut early so we could beat the traffic and we ended up moving across the State for work a year later, it just wasn't as convenient.” Alan took his glasses off and shook his head, “I'm sorry, that's probably...” “No, that's perfect. Exactly the type of thing I need for this.” Howard did not fake the sentiment on that. Bonny came over, “You know for our twentieth we went to Hawaii, this seems like so much more work. Just take a nice vacation somewhere.” Howard shrugged, “Well, you know, she's been a bit loopy lately since Grace went to college, but it's gotten worse since Grace quit out of school. She put too much into her daughter and not enough into who she is, and I hope this will help her get back to square one.” He had told them it was a picture book slide show thing. The particulars did not really matter, Alan's and Bonny's minds filled in the details when he told them they were going to help him with this project. They would work with him for as long as it took and give as much detail for every single photo and memorabilia and video they could recall. Her parents here had a bit too much saved, and going through something like this would take the entire day. This was also his first attempt at using the voice on someone other than Mira, and he wanted to keep his expectations low. If things did not work out, he could always just pretend this was a weird anniversary idea. He had brought recording devices, cameras, video, every word was being transcribed to a laptop. A digital copy of each photo and a wave file attached to it. The two in-laws only needed the smallest of pushes every now and then to keep going. They had started the day early in the morning and ended up finishing near eleven at night. Once they had gotten into the college years the photos and videos started to get less common, and they were fewer and fewer, until only the last one – only photos from Grace's graduation remained. Bonny and Alan were fairly upbeat for having talked and moved boxes all day. The voice was like that, it was a rather good motivator, it could get a man to march ten miles if needed. When he came to the final picture, the one that he had seen in the kitchen, Howard decided to finally ask the question. “When did you know Grace was not my child?” They had been talking and talking and giving away the memories of the past four decades so freely, divulging the greatest secret of their lives came as easily as talking about a trip down splash mountain. Alan started first. “She had called as soon as she realized she was pregnant. I explained that if she didn't marry the man who did it, we would disown her forever.” His face did a bit of a scrunch, like he was not sure if he had meant it to say it seriously there, or if it was a joke. Perhaps it had morphed into the second in his head over the decades. Bonny continued for Alan, “He was married and had a lot of clout at the school. I talked with her and gave her advice to instead hook up with the smartest nerdiest guy on campus immediately.” Mira had reached out to him through that website. An e-mail out of the blue. Bonny, she was the clever one, and her Mira took after her in many ways. Bonny finished, “Seems to have worked out pretty well, twenty years of successful marriage.” It was probably his own fault, as he didn't realize women can't figure out, they're pregnant that quickly. He didn't question it at the time. She was already starting to show by Christmas, and they had a quick wedding before the start of his last semester in January. Mira dropped out and he got a serious job, she raised Grace, he worked his butt off, and the love never really came back like it had those first few months. “Yes... well, here's to twenty more.” Coming here gave him an opportunity. He could at least get them off his back, buy himself some more time. “I bet you're sick of this. I bet you're sick of seeing me and Mira. You've probably both gotten a lifetime's worth of us. So, if you don't hear from us for a while, that's perfectly OK with you guys, right?” That was not a permanent solution. He would need to come back at some point, figure out what to do with the two. After all, if this worked, he'd be stealing a daughter from them. A strange euphemism. Like what Alan had said when they got to the wedding photos. Here comes Howard to steal his daughter away forever.

Chapter 10 Daniel was dumbstruck. He thought about lying to Tim and telling him the plastic sheets were for if Matthew slept in either bed in their room. But, Tim was Daniel’s best friend at that time, and seeing Tim’s sister Jenna, only one year younger than him, wearing a diaper, had clouded his ability to think of an excuse. “How long have you known?” he asked Tim, deciding to trust his friend wouldn’t make fun of him. “Well, your sleeping bag is unusually wet most mornings at camp,” Tim replied, slowly and carefully. “I saw Jan help you when the floor was wet at Camp Oki last spring. I saw the plastic sheets on both beds in your bedroom. And I smelled pee and baby powder when I went into your room. I put it all together.” “Is it really that obvious?” Daniel asked, beginning to cry. “No, not really, unless you know what to look for,” Tim said, consolingly. “It’s OK, Daniel. Lots of kids wet the bed, and have to wear diapers.” “I don’t wear diapers,” Daniel said, regaining his composure. “I’m not a baby.” “Neither is Jenna,” Tim said, defending his sister. “Diapers are for people who need them. Babies wear them because they can’t control themselves. Have you been to a senior’s home? Have you looked at the carts the nurses use? Those big plastic folded things on the cart are big diapers. Seniors, and even adults, can lose control of their bladders for all sorts of reasons, like car accidents. Is it better to wear a diaper, or wet your pants when you go to the theater? Even some children and teenagers can’t control their bladders, and need diapers. They make diapers for the smallest babies, up to the fattest people you can imagine. You know my Mom is a nurse. She told me all this, to make Scott, Jenna, and I feel better about wearing diapers. I don’t need them any more, but Scott only stopped wetting this bed this summer, after the Scouting Canadian Jamboree, unfortunately. At least he shared a tent with his friend Dave, who was understanding about his diapers. Tim finished off his rant, and there was silence for a few moments. “But, my Mom says diapers are only for babies,” Daniel blubbered, still upset. “Jenna wears diapers. Is she a baby?” Tim replied, reinforcing his point. “No,” Daniel said, eventually composing himself. “She’s only a year younger than us. I wasn’t a baby in Grade 3. And Scott isn’t a baby. He’s a troop leader in Scouts. I have a hard time picturing him wearing Pampers,” Daniel said, feeling a lot better as he talked his thoughts out to his friend. “He didn’t wear Pampers,” Tim explained. “He wore what doctors call ‘junior’ diapers, and even small adult diapers, when he grew too big for those. Junior and adult diapers normally have two, or even three tapes per side, and don’t have cartoons on them.” “Then what was Jenna wearing?” Daniel asked. “Those had cartoons on them, but no tapes.” “Mom said they are called ‘Pampers Trainers’,” Tim explained. “They are diapers she can pull on herself, like underwear. They work for her, because she doesn’t pee much. Before that, though, she wore Huggies, or Pampers, and then Junior diapers, which are slightly bigger than Pampers. Mom decided to try underwear style diapers this time, and they seem to work for her, and are a new product. She tried Pampers Trainers on Scott when they first came out, since they are easy to put on yourself, but he wet right through them, and didn’t fit him well. They aren’t as good as diapers, if you wet heavily. “Well,” Daniel said, considering what Tim had said, “you saw how heavily I wet at camp Oki. I soaked my sleeping bag, with pee dripping onto the floor. Was Scott like that?” Tim considered the question. “I don’t know for sure,” he replied. “Scott always wore diapers, and he rarely leaked. Mom thought being dry at night was very important, so she bought us diapers that worked. I stopped bedwetting in kindergarten, so Pampers or Huggies worked for me. Pampers Trainers are working for Jenna now. You seriously don’t wear diapers to bed? I smelt your room. You don’t apply baby powder without diapers, normally.” “I’m serious. I don’t,” Daniel replied, earnestly. “But my brother Matthew does. Ultra Pampers for Boys” “I don’t get it,” Tim said. “Why would your parents keep your brother in diapers to keep him dry at night, and not you? Matthew is not a baby. Do you refuse to wear diapers?” “No,” Daniel said. “I can’t remember wearing diapers ever. I was potty trained around age 2. I didn’t know what diapers were until Matthew was born. Mom told me that babies didn’t know how to use the toilet, and needed to wear diapers so they didn’t pee or poop everywhere. Matthew was potty trained before he was 3, but continued to wear diapers at night, even now. Mom is even calling him a big boy now, since he can take off his own diaper in the morning and throw it away.” “That’s about when Scott and Jenna learned to take off their own diapers,” Tim responded. “Scott learned to take off his own diapers, and could even put them on fairly well. But, not as well as when Mom put them on. When he put on his own diapers, it often resulted in leaks. So, Mom put him in diapers most nights until he stopped bedwetting. He didn’t mind, since Scott preferred a dry bed to a little embarrassment.” “Matthew says he likes it when Mom powders him and changes him into his Pampers. He says wearing diapers is like wearing a hug from Mom,” Daniel broke off, a little wistfully. “It was nice,” Tim said. “I’m not sure what it would be like now, to wear a diaper. But it was nice to be dry in the morning, and Pampers were comfortable.” “It would be nice to know I can wake up dry tomorrow, regardless of whether I wet the bed,” Daniel admitted to Tim, sheepishly. “I am worried that I will wet the bed tonight, having drank all that soda at supper. I hate waking up in a wet sleeping bag.” Tim considered what Daniel said. He didn’t want his friend to worry, and there was a solution to Daniel’s problem. Tim spoke slowly and carefully, in case his friend wasn’t open to his solution. “There is a way to be sure you wake up in a dry sleeping bag tomorrow,” Tim said. “We’ve talked about it for the last 20 minutes.” “Um,” Daniel started, nervously. “You mean I should wear a diaper, like Jenna.” “If you think it would help,” Tim said. “It’s your choice. No one will call you a baby at my house. My Mom is a nurse, so she definitely won’t make fun of you, if you need a diaper. And Scott, Jenna, and Dad won’t say anything bad, either. Daniel considered what Tim had just said, and their discussion as a whole. Being dry in the morning would be nice, and wearing a diaper would remove the stress of the situation, and help him sleep better. And, no one at Tim’s house would make fun of him, or call him a baby. Matthew seemed happy wearing diapers to bed and waking up dry. Maybe diapers weren’t such a bad thing, if people need them. “Would you wear a diaper, if you were me?” Daniel asked. Tim thought for a moment. He was 9, and hadn’t worn a diaper in almost 4 years. But, his response didn’t take more than a moment. “Yes,” he said. Daniel hesitated a few moments, since his next words could have significant consequences. “Can I try wearing a diaper, and see how it feels?” Daniel asked, meekly. “We would have to ask my Mom, and see if we have any diapers that would fit you. Does that sound OK?” Tim asked. “OK,” Daniel said, more resolutely. “Alright,” Tim said with confidence, so that Daniel felt more confident in his decision. “Let’s go to the house and ask my Mom what she thinks.”

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

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

I couldn't resist the temptation to tell an AI tool to write a version in Jasper the Dog's voice. Jasper’s Tail of Diapers and Dreams Oh hi dere, hooman fren. Iz Jasper, da bestest doggo in Chestnut Grove. I iz golden retriever extraordinaire, protector of Benny hooman, keeper of all da snuggles, and eater of any crumbs dat fall to da floor. Today, I tells you storie. It haz drama, loves, and even—hold on to ur squeaky toys—diapers. WHEN LADY HOOMAN ARRIVED It all started wen she came to live wif us. Her name Emily. But I call her New Hooman, becuz she smelled new and good, like dat bakery downtown but also like forest adventures. Benny hooman wuz so happi wen she arrived wif all her boxes and dat bright red scarf. “Jasper, meet Emily,” he said, waggin his own tail (hoomans don’t got real tails, but you kno wut I mean). I sniffed her shoes. Den her knees. She giggled. “He’s perfect!” she said. Oh fren, she called me perfect! My tail go THWAP THWAP THWAP on da floor, and I knew—dis my lady now. My pack haz grown. New Hooman is mine to protecc. Also to snuggle. Also maybe to steal sandwich crusts from later. DA NEW ROUTINE Life wif New Hooman wuz good. She and Benny made pancakes one morning, and guess wut? THEY DROPPED A WHOLE PANCAKE. “Oh no!” Emily said, but I saved da day by gobbling it up. “Jasper’s always there for emergencies,” Benny said. Dats me, a pancake emergency responder. But fren, lemme tells you. New Hooman wasn’t just here for pancakes. She and Benny did strange things. Well, dey always did strange things. Benny hooman wears da crinkly pants. U kno wut I mean? Dey make noise when he walks, like crinkle crinkle. But now dat New Hooman wuz here, she helped him wif da crinklies. One time, I peeked into da room where dey do dis, and New Hooman wuz changin Benny’s crinklies. She patted his head and said, “Good boy, Benny.” WAIT. HOLD UP. GOOD BOY??? Dat my title! I iz da good boy! But Benny looked so happi, so I let him borrow it. Sharing iz caring. SNIFF SNIFF, SHE’S SAD But fren, not everything wuz perfect. I could tells New Hooman wuz sad sometimes. She’d sit on da couch wif papers covered in scribblies, and she’d sigh like huge big sigh. I tried to make her feel better by putting my head on her lap. Dis always works. My head iz soft and warm, 10/10 comfort. “Thanks, Jasper,” she said, scratching behind my ears. “It’s just... I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.” Wut? Dis wuz confusing. New Hooman iz da best hooman! She wuz definitely doing da right thing. I didn’t kno how to tells her dis, so I just licked her hand. Benny walked in and saw us, and he said, “He likes you.” “I like him too,” Emily said, but she looked at Benny when she said it. Fren, I think she wasn’t just talking about me. BIG PLANS One day, New Hooman started drawing all sorts of stuff. She called dem “diapers,” but dey looked colorful and fun, like da toys in da window of dat shop on Main Street. She showed dem to Benny, and he said, “Emily, these are amazing.” I sniffed da paper. Smelled like crayons. Benny said, “You could open your own shop.” Emily laughed. “In Chestnut Grove? Who would buy them?” Benny looked serious. “Emily, you’ve always wanted to make something people love. You don’t need the whole world to love it. Just the right people.” Oh fren, dis wuz deep. Benny hooman haz wisdom. He gave her a hug, and I gave her my favorite tennis ball. Dis my way of saying, “Follow ur dreams, New Hooman.” NEW ADVENTURES Next thing I kno, Emily wuz opening a shop on Main Street. Dey put up a big sign dat said “CUTE & COMFY.” I didn’t kno what dis meant, but I liked dat she wuz smiling more now. Da shop wuz full of da crinklies Benny wears, but dese ones wuz colorful wif pictures of stars and flowers and even little dinosaurs. Benny became her model. He looked so proud in da pictures, like, “Yes, dis iz me in da starry crinklies.” When dey took pictures, I tried to get in da background. “Jasper, no photobombing!” Emily said, laughing. But I saw her give me a treat anyway. Heh. Worth it. DA SECRET REVEALED Okay fren, dis part iz big. One day, Emily wuz changin Benny in da back room of da shop. I wuz lying on da rug, chewing my bone, when WHO WALKS IN BUT EMILY’S MOM. She stopped, blinking like blink blink. “Emily, what are you doing?” her mom asked. Benny looked up from da table. He had a pacifier in his mouth. I mean, dis not unusual—he loves pacifiers. Emily’s mom just sighed. “Well,” she said after a moment, “as long as you’re happy.” She jingle jangles her keys for WHAT? Fren, I couldn’t believe it. Dat wuz it? No scolding, no nothing. Just “as long as you’re happy.” Emily looked relieved. Benny smiled. And me? I just wagged my tail and went back to chewing my bone. Crisis averted. MORE HOOMANS IN DA PACK After dat, Emily’s sister Chloe started working at da shop. Chloe iz da fun hooman. She always has treats in her pocket, and she calls me “J-Dog.” Chloe also started wearing da colorful crinklies. I heard her tell Emily one day, “Honestly, I think these are adorable. I kinda love it.” I didn’t kno what dat meant, but I liked dat she wuz smiling. Chloe even found her own hooman mommy to take care of her, just like Emily takes care of Benny. Our pack wuz getting bigger, and fren, it wuz awesome. DA BESTEST DAY EVER Den came da wedding. Benny and Emily got married in da spring, and guess who wuz da ring bearer? Dat’s right—me! I wore a bow tie, and everyone said I looked so handsome. Emily’s mom wuz crying (hoomans do dis wen dey happy, very confusing), and Benny looked at Emily like she wuz da best thing he’d ever seen. Which, duh, she iz. HAPPILY EVER AFTER Now, life iz pawfect. Emily’s shop iz super successful, and Benny gets to live out his dreams. Jasper (dat’s me!) gets all da snuggles and pancakes I could ever want. Chloe iz da best playmate, and sometimes Emily’s mom babysits Benny. She even calls him “her little guy.” Benny wuz embarrassed at first, but now he loves it. Sometimes, I sit on da porch wif Benny and Emily, watching da sunset. “Jasper,” Benny says, scratching my ears, “you’re the best dog in the world.” Yes, I am, Benny. Yes, I am. And dat, fren, iz da story of how we all lived happily ever after in Chestnut Grove. Tail wag.

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

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

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...

Amazing job

It's Sam's first day in high school and she has plenty to be nervous about. Never has the size difference between her and other students been so pronounced and the teenagers seem decidedly rougher than she's used to. Just as she is starting to feel lost a friendly hand reaches out and offers her a lifeline. --- 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 ❤️ --- Sam clutched her bag close to her chest. She looked around at all the teenagers around her and felt more out of place than ever. A couple of muscle-bound young men opposite her were having a loud and lively conversation. After one particularly offensive comment they started rough-housing with one, in a sports jacket with the school’s mascot embroidered on it, putting the other in a headlock and being pushed against the lockers. Other students quickly surrounded the pair and were shouting encouragement. Sam felt scared. It was like watching two animals fighting at a zoo with an audience baying for more violence. Sam hurried away from the action and towards the bathroom just down the hall. She passed someone listening to loud rock music as they leaned against some lockers, the guy looked down at her with a smirk that suggested he had found prey. On the other side of the corridor was a guy and a girl engaged in a passionately kissing irrespective of how many people were watching. Sam whimpered as she carried on past. She pushed through the bathroom door feeling her heart hammering only to be confronted by three older girls right in front of her. One was sitting on the edge of the counter that held the sinks, one was leaning against the wall next to her and the other was loudly talking about a sexual encounter she had apparently recently had. All three were, in Sam’s opinion, wearing far too much make-up and smoking. The smell of cigarettes filled the room and Sam hurried past them towards the cubicle. She felt like she needed a small space to just sit down for a moment and get her anxiety under a control. She pushed open the door of the nearest cubicle and let out a little squeal. Leaning against the side of the stall there were two girls, one with short hair and piercings, vigorously making out. They saw Sam staring in with wide eyes and separated. “Get lost.” The girl with piercings said as she pushed the door closed again. Sam wasn’t going to find out what happened if she disobeyed and hurried back past the smoking girls and into the corridor. She was tearing up and feeling overwhelmed. This was nothing like the previous schools. Everything felt so alien and scary. She didn’t belong there at all. High school wasn’t what Sam had hoped for. With how mature her friends in middle school had been she had hoped that high school would be the same, she was being quickly shown the error in her thinking. These teenagers, hormones raging like storms, towered over her like adults did and seemed very… hostile. As Sam wandered towards where she had been told her home room was she kept her eyes down towards the ground. She heard the comments people said about her, they were practically the same as when she had been in high school the first time. She was powerless and had never felt so self-conscious about how small she was then right then. The pull-ups she had felt so grown up wearing now felt ridiculously infantile. “Hey! Elementary school is a couple of blocks over!” Shouted one guy as Sam passed. The corridor echoed with laughter as Sam hunched her shoulders and hurried past. Sam wished she was back in elementary school. Middle school would’ve been better though. She thought of Becky, Caitlyn and Chloe. Right now they would be getting ready for a new week of school, good friends who would look after each other and have fun. It was a million miles from where Sam was now. She wondered if her old friends would wonder where she had gone or if they would quickly move on as if she had been a weird collective dream they had woke up from. Sam reached her home room and looked at the wall of lockers opposite. She checked the paper she had been handed to see which of the lockers was hers. When she walked along the lockers and found the one assigned to her she let out a big sigh. “Typical…” Sam muttered. The locker was on the top row and out of Sam’s reach by some way. She looked up at it and pouted, it was the last thing she needed when she was already so on edge. She leaned forwards and placed her forehead against one of the lockers and closed her eyes as she tried to keep calm. “Oh my god! She’s sooo cute!” A female voice made Sam jump. Looking around Sam saw a teenage girl with long blonde hair. She was chewing gum and wearing a crop top that showed off her pierced belly button and jeans with holes in them. She was flanked by four other girls who were dressed in similar ways. Sam swallowed nervously. “Hello, little one. Are you lost?” The young woman said with a sarcastic smile as she bent down to get closer to Sam. Sam knew she was being made fun of and ignored the comments. She was about to turn and walk away when the girl in front of her chuckled and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, girl. I’m just playing. You are really, REALLY short though. You new here?” The girl asked. “Y-Yes.” Sam said quietly, “My name’s Sam.” “I’m Roxy.” The girl replied, “Need some help?” “Yeah, they put my locker up there…” Sam said. “Not a problem.” Roxy replied, “Are you in Mr. Flanagan’s class?” Sam nodded. “Awesome.” Roxy said, “Stick with me, kid. I’ll look after you.” Sam knew she should be annoyed. She was older than Roxy and although this other girl didn’t know that she should be assuming they were the same age. Being called “kid” was the sort of thing that annoyed Sam greatly. Yet in the chaos of that morning in this scary place Sam actually felt incredibly relieved that someone was offering to look after her. She smiled a little as Roxy held out her hand. “Here, pass me your bag.” Roxy said. Sam was a little hesitant. Her bag had the usual stuff a student would need but it also included a spare pull-up for “just in case.” She didn’t think this new girl would open the backpack though so she handed it over. Roxy took it and put it up in the locker. “Thanks.” Sam said, “I’ll ask them to move my locker when I get a chance.” “Don’t sweat it.” Roxy said as she closed the locker. “So you get boosted up a bunch of grades because you’re smart?” Roxy asked. “Huh?” Sam grunted in response. “No offence but my brother in kindergarten is bigger than you.” Roxy said, “Are you really in twelfth grade?” “Yes.” Sam replied, “I’m just… small.” “That’s an understatement.” Roxy laughed, “Let me see your schedule… Cool, we share nearly all the same classes. Stick with me, Sam, I’ll show you the ropes.” The bell for home room rang shortly after and Sam hung back a little as people started filing into the nearest classroom. Roxy, chewing her gum rather obnoxiously, gave Sam a wink and tilted her head in the direction of the classroom. Sam followed the girls in and went with them to the back row. She climbed into her seat and looked across to see Roxy and her friends leaning back in their seats. One of them had immediately got out a compact mirror and was checking her make-up. This was uncharted territory for Sam. When she had been in high school before she had been a bit of an outcast. No one wanted to hang out with her and she was often the subject of ridicule. She had remembered though that the students with the worst behaviour usually sat at the back of the class. Roxy and her friends acted similarly to girls Sam remembered being particularly mean and yet they seemed to accept her. Maybe times had changed. The thought they were going to turn on her lingered in the back of her brain, paranoia that her time in middle school had been unable to completely undo. Sam had been enrolled in the twelfth grade with the oldest of the students. These were people that were only a few years younger than her. A lot of them hardly looked like high school students at all. As people walked into the room talking loudly to friends Sam noticed that a lot of them looked over at her with shock or amusement, then they’d see Roxy and quickly turn away. Roxy was as good as her word that morning. It seemed she and Sam shared the same classes and in each of them she invited Sam to sit next to her. It didn’t take Sam long to notice that Roxy didn’t seem to do a lot of schoolwork. In fact, she spent most of the lessons gossiping with the people around her, when she did do work she seemed very interested in what Sam had written and copying it herself. Sam was OK with that though because Roxy was proving to be funny and protective. She had a charm about her that meant she just seemed to get away with things more than other people. It wasn’t until lunch time that Sam had any reason to think differently. “Let’s cut math.” Roxy said at lunchtime. “You don’t need to ask me twice.” Said Kerry, one of Roxy’s friends. She had died blonde hair and, in Sam’s opinion, tried a little too hard to emulate Roxy. “Meet in the usual place?” Jane asked. “Sure.” Roxy replied, “Right after home room.” “Sam?” Roxy and the other girls turned to face Sam whose eyes widened. “I, erm…” Sam stuttered, “I’ve never really cut class before…” The girls laughed. One of them said Sam was adorable which rankled a little bit. Roxy knelt down to be on the same level as Sam, she was smiling warmly as she put out a hand and placed it on Sam’s shoulder. “I get it.” Roxy said, “But it’s just one class, right? No one would care. You’re new, you can say you got lost or something.” Sam bit her lip and looked away from Roxy. She had always been diligent at school and made sure to do her work and never skip classes. She was feeling peer pressure now that she had never faced before in her life. She pictured how disappointed Isabelle would be and it was almost enough to make her turn down the girls’ proposition… but then she remembered why she was here in the first place. It wasn’t Sam who had chosen to be in this scary new environment. She hadn’t chosen to leave the comfortable cosiness of her middle school friends to be dropped in at the deep end of a high school full of hormone-fuelled teenagers. Sure she would need to move on from middle school but it didn’t have to be so soon and with so little preparation. Isabelle wanted her to socialise with people this age then she had to do what they did. “Forget it, Roxy.” Jane said with a smirk, “I think Little Miss. Goody-Two-Shoes thinks she’s better than us.” “Hold on.” Roxy said as she glanced over her shoulder. She looked back at Sam, “I know it’s scary. A new school and you being so… small and all. But we’ll look after you, no one’s going to try anything with us there.” Sam’s resolve was wavering. Maybe Isabelle would never have to know. Roxy and her friends seemed cool and Sam would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t feel safer with these bigger girls. When she had been in high school for real girls as popular as Roxy wouldn’t give Sam the time of day. In fact, Sam spent most of her time in high school avoiding people like Roxy, to have her on side would make this whole thing a lot less scary. “I guess… Just once.” Sam said. Roxy smiled toothily and nodded her head as she stood up again. The girls continued eating and talking until the bell rang for the next period. Students started heading out but as the crowds went towards the classrooms down the corridor Sam stuck next to Roxy who ducked into a girl’s bathroom. “We just need to wait in here for a few minutes.” Roxy said. Sam waited anxiously. She expected the door to open at any moment and a teacher to come in to tell them off. She nervously picked at her fingernails as she waited, Roxy meanwhile was sat on the edge of the sink and leaning back against the mirror looking at her phone. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world. “Right, follow me.” Roxy said as she jumped down. --- You can read the next part of this story RIGHT NOW over on SubscribeStar and Ream: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/lwt7udqa47/chapter/0ace5c77-0bff-4422-95d6-1620dff88df1 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1629837

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

I saw someone mentioning that this story reminded them of my R.O.O.M. story. I have to say you are very good at the slow gradual regression and the psychological / emotional journey. I write stories that are emotional journeys and I tremendously appreciate others that are able to pull it off. This is a very good story. Thank You for sharing it with us.

I love the sound of a diapered spank, and really dream about someone spanking me for real. Self spanking isn't the same.

One of the more obscure side effects of our obscure lifestyle is an ongoing, low-level anxiety with respect to garbage disposal. Living in disposable nappies, even though I try to use disposables no more that 70% of the time, creates an unfortunate degree of incriminating garbage. I’ve written before about my garbage disposal anxieties: typically centred around the garbage truck accidentally disgorging the entire contents of our “wheelie bin” onto the street before our neighbours (who would doubtless be outside watching) and then decamping the scene, leaving a collection of balled-up, grown-up-sized nappies strewn about like dead chickens after some poultry-based version of the Jonestown Massacre. To date this hasn’t happened. Something else happened though. A potential embarrassment vector I had not anticipated: visiting electricians. With a new house, I’ve decided to reform my errant ways and use appropriately-licensed trades for tasks that although I know I can perform competently, are prohibited for DIY under Australia’s sprawling labyrinth of nanny-state regulations. Some of these rules are fair enough (it’s pretty easy to kill yourself or somebody else with mains electricity) but many others are frankly, BS (did you know that in Australia, it is actually ILLEGAL to make your own Ethernet cables?) So, I’ve had quite a few tradies in and out recently. But not to make Ethernet cables. Screw that. I have my limits. It amuses me to watch these tradies occasionally make the same kind of dumb mistakes that I do (despite their wealth of experience) and I’ve also noticed as fatigue sets in on a long or complex job, they start misplacing parts and tools: just like I do. Anyway, electrician tradie managed to lose some screws that were a part of the appliance he was installing. Despite my vast collection of screws on-hand, these ones were pretty unusual and needed to be the type that they were to fit beneath the equipment cover. After an epic-but-fruitless search, he muttered about having to go back to his place and find some he had laying about. I was doing something else, said something conciliatory and left him to it. About 20 minutes later, he was completing the installation. “You found them?” I asked. “Yeah” he replied sheepishly. “I’d accidentally chucked them out with the box in your bin. I checked those boxes FIRST and couldn’t find them but eventually, I tried again as it was the only place they could be. It turned out, they’d fallen OUT of the box and fallen all the way to the bottom of the bin. I had to empty and repack the whole bin which wasn’t nice and it’s MY own fault. I won’t make THAT mistake again soon”. I bet it was fun. Apart from the fact that he’d dealt with at least 2 bags of kitchen scraps that had been rotting in intense tropical heat for days, he’d also pulled out a VERY heavy bag of wet adult disposable nappies that had to weigh at least 15 kilograms. That bag was so heavy, a small hole had formed where the bag had over-stretched offering a fascinating glimpse into its unusual payload. It was now neatly back in the bin but on top as clearly it had been the last rubbish bag to be re-packed. Oops…

I love airliners, my collecting started out with plastic snap fit models you could find at most airport news stand stores in the late 90's, The bottom left shelf are my 1:400 scale models and the rest are 1:200 scale. My favorite is the Boeing 757, preferably with RB211's and winglets. Fun fact about my collection, one of the smallest ones actually is the most expensive one in there lol. Top bar is Federal Signal 3 Pod Vector SL, small brother to the Federal Signal Vector and Vision series bars, it came to me all amber, I already had blue white and red domes from another Vector bar I had but had to buy red and blue led modules for it. Middle one is a Whelen Liberty that I got from ebay for $200, it came to me all blue with halogen takedowns and alleys, I put possibly $800 into it to make it what it is as you can see it and is also computer programmable. Bottom one is a Federal Signal Vista I got for $100 from a local fb seller, I made no changes to it but I might add in some lower modules. This Vista kind of came at a time of transition, it had strobes, halogen and LED options, mine is just strobe and halogen. I am also and avid photographer of emergency vehicles and have a decent sized collection on my flickr page, DM me for link is you want or ask me for my discord name. I actually saw a Pierce Volterra on monday so that was neat.

i sent you a message

Chapter 8: A Nightmare Hannah’s dreams were plagued with nightmares that night. Her mind flashed back and forth between being beaten by various Amazons and forced into thicker and thicker diapers for their amusement. They continued to mock her, teasing her as they force-fed Hannah a tasteless mush that filled her to the core, forcing its way through her system and into the seat of her diaper, ever swelling outward until she could no longer stand. The Amazon's laughter filled her ears, her tears dripping past the pacifier that fed her, attached to a feeding tube. Hannah must have been tossing something fierce, for she felt someone gently waking her. She cried out as she sat up straight, surrounded by the bars of the crib, her pulse beating in her ears, her body covered in a cold sweat, soaking the onesie she wore. She blinked several times, the memories of yesterday flooding her as she recalled where she was. She glanced up at who had woken her to see Daddy, his kind, concerned face looking down at her. He wore simple pajama pants and a shirt, “Hey, sweetheart, are you okay? The monitors were indicating you were in distress.” It took Hannah a moment to collect her breath before she sheepishly nodded, “Just a nightmare,” she admitted, leaning back against the crib bars, the lisp from whatever drugs she had been given having faded. Daddy leaned down and scooped her up, holding her in his arms, “Oh, you poor thing, you soaked through your onesie; let me at least get you into something dry.” Hannah was too tired to argue as he laid her on the changing table, stripping her of the onesie. He grimaced as he saw the diaper she was wearing, glancing at her face and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, pumpkin. That is a point your Mommy and I disagree on. What was your nightmare about?” he asked, pulling another onesie from the shelves below, similar to Emilies'. She recounted her nightmare events as Daddy worked the onesie into place, clipping the buttons together. Hannah could see a genuine pain in his face as he sat down in the rocking chair, cradling her, rocking gently. “I’ll talk with her baby, but you need to understand that she is far from the cruelest Amazon out there; she’s rather lenient than most.” Hannah felt a stab of fear, her eyes reflecting this. Daddy quickly continued, “But you need to listen to us; we will protect you from them, baby girl. This world is cruel, but you're safe as long as you are with us.” She nodded in understanding but still felt unease. Daddy stood, still holding her, and walked to the kitchen, tapping a clock within the wall, its hands glowing softly in the dimness of the hall. “It’s only 2 in the morning, but it’s also been a while since dinner. I will fix you a warm bottle to help relax you, okay?” It took Hannah a moment to realize something was off with the clock; instead of 12 hours, the topmost hour read 15. If hours were broken up into A.M. and P.M. here as they were back home, that would indicate days here were 30 hours long! She blinked in surprise, trying to comprehend this; she hadn’t even realized this was a possibility. Although this planet was entirely different, she probably shouldn’t have been surprised. She nodded in response to Daddy’s question before realizing something, “It… Will not have anything in it, will it?” Daddy chuckled, shaking his head, “No pumpkin. Mommy enjoys that stuff, but I prefer the natural approach.” He hit a few buttons, and a blue bottle was produced in a moment, a creamy white liquid filling it. Daddy took it and began back towards the nursery, seating himself in the rocking chair. He nestled Hannah in the crook of his arm, her head back in the perfect feeding position as he brought the bottle to her lips. Hannah hesitantly opened her mouth, trusting the man until he proved he couldn’t be trusted. The silicone nipple was big, much like her pacifier, and comfortably filled her mouth; she could feel the warmth of its contents inside and gave a gentle suckle. Instantly, a warm, sweet-tasting liquid filled her. It had a faintly vanilla taste and was thick, almost like a warm vanilla milkshake. She visibly relaxed and began to nurse; she was a bit hungry, she found. Daddy smiled down at her, kissing her forehead before launching into a story, “Once upon a time…” he started. The story was silly, of a princess in a beautiful town caring for the villagers. Hannah found that her bladder was whole again; it had been many hours since she had fallen asleep. She struggled to, but after a few moments, was able to relax her bladder enough to soak into her diaper. Daddy didn’t indicate if he noticed; he continued rocking and telling her the story. Naomi, however, didn’t miss a beat, instantly filling her head with praise for not holding it and just letting it go. Hannah was too tired to argue with her at the moment. Between his soothing words, the gentle swaying, and the warm formula filling her tummy, Hannah soon found her eyes drifting close and falling asleep in his arms, off to much sweeter dreams this time. Hannah awoke sometime in the morning, light streaming in through the window. Its gentle warmth caressed and pulled her from her slumber. The light filtered through the bars of the crib, enveloping her. She found Teddy clutched to her chest, Emily beside her still asleep, the pacifier bobbing between her lips contently, Hannah’s own having been removed by Daddy during the early morning hours. Hannah sat up, yawning and stretching as she glanced around the nursery. She still felt uneasy about her situation; her dream turned into a nightmare, but Daddy’s kind words helped ease some of her tension last night. What his words didn’t do, however, was help the sudden cramp that struck Hannah. Hannah groaned, clutching her tummy and aching bladder. Hannah was on the brink of bursting between whatever she was fed for dinner and the ridiculous amount of drink she had been forced to consume. ‘Remember, babies don’t hold it! Letting go and using your diaper is okay; that’s what it's for! Besides, Mommy and Daddy love it when you use your diaper; you want to be their good girl, right?’ Naomi said in her mind. Hannah gritted her teeth, ‘Shut up! Get out of my head! I’ll go when I want to!’ she thought back angrily. Naomi, to her credit, stayed quiet this time, perhaps realizing that Hannah was fighting a losing battle. She glanced outside of the crib; the door to the nursery closed. She quickly realized there was no way to get out of the crib, nor the room, herself without help, and so far, help wasn’t arriving. Mommy’s words regarding using her diaper flashed through her mind, and she groaned, realizing even if she did catch someone's attention, she wouldn’t be able to use the restroom. A tired voice spoke behind her, making Hannah jump for a moment. “Just get on your knees and go. I promise it’ll be less embarrassing than asking one of them to let you use the potty. They will make you regret it,” Emily said. “There is no reason to hurt yourself trying to hold it.” Hannah flushed, realizing that Emily had noticed what was going on immediately. She gritted her teeth, climbed to her knees, and pulled the blanket over herself for some sense of privacy from Emily as she lost control. A warm, wet muck rushed to fill the seat of her diaper, squishing and filling her diaper. The tight confines of the diaper and the onesie left little space for her mess as it forced itself between her legs and up her bum. Hannah groaned, her face crimson as she pushed, her bladder giving way somewhere in her struggle as well, soaking her mess before being absorbed by the diaper. Just as Hannah thought it couldn’t get any worse, Naomi returned. ‘There we go! Such a good girl! Doesn’t that feel so much better? You are nice and empty now. Your Mommy and Daddy will be so proud when they find the present you made them!’ ‘Why are you in my head?’ Hannah demanded angrily, ‘Get out! This is MY head!’ Of course, the girl didn’t answer, and as much as Hannah hated it, the girl's words had some merit. She did feel much better now that she had gone, even with her mess caking her ass. Hannah sighed, sitting back on her legs, letting the blanket go, as she felt Emily stir and sit up, patting her back, “If it makes you feel any better, at least you woke up to go; I went sometime during the night apparently.” she said, grimacing. Hannah felt her face grow red as she realized what Emily meant; she, too, was wet and messy. She couldn’t even smell the girl! Or herself, she realized. These diapers, indeed, were magical in some regards. She was desperate to change the topic to anything else, “Did you sleep okay?” she asked curiously. Emily nodded, “Of course, always do with whatever she puts on these.” she said, holding the pacifier, “Knocks ya out cold, no dreams, no nothing.” Hannah started, a shock of realization hitting her, “They were… drugged?” she asked hesitantly, earning her a laugh. “Did you think you just magically forgot how to speak yesterday? Or were you tired enough to fall asleep so early in the evening? Of course, Mommy uses it to help regulate our sleep; it’s okay, though, it helps prevent the nightmares.” Emily paused, looking at Hannah’s outfit, “That isn’t the same onesie from last night.” Hannah shook her head, “No, it’s not nightmares. Daddy noticed I sweated through that onesie, and he changed me before helping me get back to sleep.” Emily nodded, “He’s a nice guy. Hopefully, we get him this morning and not Mommy.” As if in response, Hannah could hear footsteps approaching the nursery before Evan’s face appeared in the doorway, flanked by Daddy. Evan grinned, giggling, shuffling up to them in race car-themed pajamas, “You are awake! Daddy said he thought you both were.” Emily smiled, “Morning Evan, you sleep well?” she asked. Evan grinned and nodded, “Like a baby! Well, a toddler, you two slept like babies!” he giggled. He didn’t mean it as an insult but as something he genuinely believed. Hannah was scooped up as Daddy stepped over to the crib; he smiled at her, kissing her head. “Morning, sweetheart. Are you feeling better?” He placed her in his arms, immediately noticing her squishy bum. “Daddy is very proud of you, pumpkin. I know this is all a lot to get used to, but you are doing so well going potty in your diapers. You are a good girl.” Hannah felt just the slightest shimmer of pleasure coursing through her at the words, barely even noticeable. Whatever had triggered it yesterday had all but worn off. Realizing she was being praised for using her diaper, she blushed madly, nodding to his question, “Yes, I did, thank you.” She plopped down next to Evan, who wrapped his arms around her in a hug and giggled, “My baby sister! Good morning!” It wasn’t until now that Hannah realized how much bigger Evan was than her. Not by a lot, but he comfortably rested his chin atop her head as she gingerly returned his hug, Daddy working to retrieve Emily from the crib. “Morning, Evan,” Hannah replied, chuckling as Emily deposited herself on her feet, yawning and stretching. Daddy turned to the door and headed towards it as Evan hugged Emily. “Are you two hungry? Mommy is making a good breakfast this morning!” he smiled, ushering the group down the hall. Hannah stopped, realizing he had no intent on changing her, “Erm… Can I get… uhh..” she glanced at the changing table. Daddy stopped, put his hands on his hips, and looked at her. “I may be more lenient than Mommy, but make no mistake. You still have to adhere to the rules, young lady. No, asking for changes. Don’t let me catch you asking again. We’ll get fresh changes after breakfast.” With that, he turned and left. Hannah blushed fiercely as Emily stepped up beside her, patting her back. Evan was already shuffling down the hall. “The less you ask, the more likely they will change you; they never do before breakfast.” Hannah sighed, not relishing the idea of being stuck in this diaper for longer, but had little choice. She gingerly began to shuffle after Emily as they made their way to the dining room. As they left the nursery, the smells of breakfast washed over Hannah, making her mouth water. The dining table was already set, and Mommy placed the last finishing touches as she noticed them. She grinned, leaning down and scooping Hannah up into her arms, “Baby girl, how are you? It feels like you were a good girl for Mommy! I’m very proud of you, pumpkin.” she said, her hand cupping Hannah’s ass, feeling the mess there, squishing it slightly before depositing Hannah in the high chair and strapping her in. The woman wasn’t expecting a response as she had already moved on doing the same with Emily, setting her in the high chair next to Hannah. Hannah realized that one benefit to these diapers, as she sat, was that the hard plastic kept a protective cushion between herself and the firm chair below, meaning she didn’t squish her mess too severely. Set before her was another large bottle filled with an orange liquid, hopefully, orange juice, a small pile of eggs, hash brown disks, sausage, bacon, and a giant waffle! The waffle was piled with syrup, butter, whipped cream, and fresh strawberries; Hannah’s mouth watered just looking at it. Much to her dismay, she realized, once again, they had been offered no silverware of any kind. Daddy had to step around her to get to his seat, and he leaned down, whispering, “This is why we don’t charge you before; you’re about to get all messy.” he said with a chuckle. Hannah nodded, sighing and resigning herself to her fate as the rest of the table sat down to eat. As she picked up a chunk of the waffle, which had been cut for her, her fingers were already getting sticky with syrup, and she noticed Evan had been given silverware. Granted, it was designed for children, but regardless, it made her envious. The same could be said for his cup as well; instead of a bottle, he had been given a sippy cup. Given the lack of silverware, it was no surprise to anyone that the bottle she had been given was quickly covered in food, her onesie accumulating droppings, and her entire face sticky, making Hannah feel and look much like a baby. She felt embarrassed, but honestly, what did they expect? Hannah turned her attention to the conversation as she ate the delicious food. “Daddy is taking you to the park, sweetie, " Mommy told Evan, who had asked about the day's events. Meanwhile, Mommy is going back-to-school shopping with the girls; we have a lot of stuff to pick up before Monday!” Hannah’s mind flashed back to the calendar in the nursery, trying to remember the day. If she recalled, the calendars here were the same as they were back home; it was Sunday today. Having been caught up in all the excitement, Hannah had nearly forgotten the entire purpose of her trip here. That would mean she would have one whole school week before returning home on Saturday. Something irked her, though, a thought she had been having. If days here were more extended than back home, would she go home at the end of her week Earth time or Amazon time? Research has been done on Earth time compared to Amazon time. The days on the Amazon home world are nearly 25% longer than on Earth. The Amazon planet spun more slowly, profoundly impacting the timescale between the two planets. Perhaps it’s this, along with the fact both planets lie in the Goldilocks zone of their respective solar system on nearly opposite sides of the universe, that allowed a rift to be open, connecting the two planets. Hannah knew nothing about time dilation between their worlds, and the concerns of her week-long stay would continue to plague her. Hannah’s mind drifted back to mundane topics, like the realization that she would be shopping with Mommy all day. The thought twisted her, and she wanted nothing more than to ask if Daddy would take them. However, she knew how that might come off and didn’t want to provoke Mommy further. Instead, she asked, "Is Emily attending the same school as me?” Mommy turned to her and smiled, “Why yes, dear, she is. She’s a part of the same exchange program but missed the last trial period deadline, so she’s going with you!” Something about the woman's words set Hannah on edge. There was far more to her statement than met the eye, and Emily's look seemed to confirm this, only furthered Hannah’s discomfort. Questioning this woman on such topics would likely get her in hot water, so she tried a different tactic: “What do you mean, trial period? What’s the school like?” “You two have to meet the criteria set forth by the school to attend. As for classes, I suppose it’s like any school; it’s broken up into different grades, and all Littles start at the bottom and work their way up! Isn’t that exciting?” Mommy asked. Hannah squirmed, feeling the contents of her diaper shift with her; she couldn’t help but feel as if there were things Mommy was purposely not telling her about. Hannah had no proof, but the woman had done little to inspire her trust and confidence thus far. “What kind of stuff will we need for school?” “We need to get you mostly clothes and some art supplies. The school provides most of what you’ll need there.” Mommy responded, standing and stepping over to Emily, who had finished eating, cleaning her up with wet wipes. Hannan felt Mommy’s gaze as she saw the last remnants of Hannah’s meal, and Hannah quickly finished it; she had no intent on giving Mommy any more ammo. Mommy tickled Emily playfully, earning her a giggle as she carried the squirming girl down to the nursery, “Welby, hun, can you get Hannah cleaned up and changed while I get Emily?” she asked. “Of course, dear,” Daddy said with a smile. With Mommy out of earshot, he glanced at Hannah, “I know you already went, but a piece of advice: try to go again during breakfast. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck in a messy diaper for much longer.” Hannah blushed, realizing that this meal would likely upset her tummy as dinner had. As she focused on it, she found that while it wasn’t urgent, she did need to go. Had he not warned her, she would have blissfully been changed and immediately fallen victim to breakfast. She nodded sheepishly, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Evan giggled, “Daddy? Is that why I stay in my nini diaper till after breakfast?” Daddy chuckled, nodding, “Yes, buddy. I know you can sometimes hold it till potty time afterward, but it’s easier this way if you don’t!” Evan nodded, looking away as Daddy stood, wiping Hannah’s hands and face clean. Once again, she felt Naomi stirring deep within her. ‘What are you doing, silly girl? You got to go potty! Just relax and push; you want to be a good girl. Daddy likes it when you use your diaper.’ Hannah blushed madly at the words, realizing even more that she would have to abide by them, feeling Daddy undo the straps holding her into the high chair. With a groan, and as Daddy lifted her from the seat, she pushed; the contents of breakfast immediately began filling the seat of her diaper, swelling noticeably. To his credit, Daddy must have realized what was happening and made sure not to put pressure on her rear, kissing the top of her head, “There we go, such a good girl; Daddy is proud of you, pumpkin.” he said. Hannah swelled at the praise, realizing with a start that the pleasure she felt yesterday was gone entirely now, and yet, she still enjoyed being called a good girl. ‘Well, of course, you do, silly! Every baby wants to be a good girl, and you were a very good girl using your diaper.’ Naomi pipped up. Hannah gritted her teeth. 'Get out of my head!’ she thought angrily at the girl, who giggled and retreated. Hannah could feel Naomi’s presence still lingering, but her voice had quieted for the moment. Daddy carried Hannah to the nursery, where Mommy had already finished changing Emily and was getting her dressed for the day. Hannah found herself on her back, lying on the changing table as Daddy popped the buttons of her onesie, pulling it over her head. She felt her arm involuntarily cover her chest, but Daddy gently pulled her arm away. She didn’t have anything to cover anyway. Before proceeding with the change, Daddy produced a pacifier and offered it to Hannah. He immediately noticed her hesitation, “It doesn’t have anything on it, and I wouldn’t hesitate around Mommy; I promise; she’ll make it worse,” he said as she gingerly accepted the pacifier. Thankfully, Hannah didn’t feel any tingling this time, so she nursed it as Daddy popped open the tabs of her diaper and began cleaning her up. She felt shame flushing her whole body, being seen like this, but Daddy just continued to praise her for being such a good girl, making quick work of the filth, and began placing her in another diaper. This one, thankfully, didn’t seem to be a chastity diaper. It was a soft pink with princess across the front and back, with helpful messages like ‘Don’t hold it!’ and ‘Good girls use their diapers!’ printed on the front, the letters turned so she could read them. As Daddy applied a bit of rash cream and powder, he tapped her pacifier, “You’re going to encounter stuff today that will not make you happy. Whenever you encounter one of those moments, before you start yelling or cursing, nurse this instead: I promise you, it’ll make things easier.” Hannah blushed even more at his comment; the idea of nursing a pacifier in public both thrilled her and embarrassed her. Daddy did have solid advice. However, she had read more than one horror story about what happened to naughty Little, who acted out. She nodded, feeling his fingers pulling the fresh diaper into place, adjusting the leak guards, and fixing the tabs into place. Much like her diaper from yesterday, Hannah found this one absurdly thick, not as much as her nighttime one, but still. She wondered if they had diapers that didn’t force you to shuffle. With that, Daddy sat her up, pulling a cute, graphic t-shirt over her head and a pair of shorts over her legs. The shirt came down to the waistband of her diaper, but no more. Hannah’s stomach twisted as she realized the shirt had Naomi on it, smiling at her. The shorts were plain, thankfully, but did nothing to cover the bulge of her undergarments. She looked adorable, and yet, felt ridiculous. Daddy fitted her with ruffled white socks but offered no shoes. She gave him a questioning look, and he returned a sheepish one, “No boots to help prevent you from running away; either that or I have to put you in the training shoes that’ll prevent you from walking altogether.” Hannah sucked in the pacifier hard, the look of fear in her eyes all he needed to see as she shook her head. Daddy smiled softly and nodded, “I told you we will protect you as best as possible, but you are still subject to the step-down program, and we will ensure you meet those standards.” There it was again, mentioning this mysterious program. What did it mean? What did it entail? Hannah had no clue but continued to ponder it as Daddy clipped the pacifier to her shift, fixing bows into her hair; just as Mommy came over, Emily, sitting on her hip, said, “Oh, aren’t you just precious!” Mommy said with a smile as she pulled Hannah onto her other hip. Emily was dressed similarly to Hannah and even had her pacifier. If anyone saw them, they would think they were at least sisters, if not twins, dressed like this. As it had yesterday, Hannah's current diaper provided an excellent cushion to sit on as she was carried through the house. Evan was in the living room, watching cartoons. Hannah immediately felt her gaze pulled to the screen, Oliver dancing across it, but Mommy turned away. “Evan, honey, have a good day with Daddy!” Evan didn’t respond, wholly engrossed in his show as Mommy kissed Daddy goodbye. They entered the garage, Hannah and Emily being added to their respective car seats. Hannah felt Mommy pull the straps tight, holding her in place, the soft cushion of the car seat cradling Hannah’s body as the car door was shut behind her. The girls settled; Mommy took the driver's seat, and the garage opened. Sunlight spewed into the garage as the car pulled out, hovering high in the clouds above the city. End of Chapter 8

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

Chapter 61: Night at the Theater BETH AND I were soon sitting on the slightly more mature bed in the room she was staying in, holding our EdgeSphere glasses. “Why are we using these?” I asked her. “Well, for one, we can both see the text at the same time?” She said. “Two?” I asked. “A lot easier to make out without disturbing your grandparents?” I laughed, “Okay, how do we connect to read the script together?” “Aren’t you the computer nerd?” She kidded me. “Still figuring some things out!” I replied, but I turned red, embarrassed to not know yet. She laughed, “Log into your headset; I have your ID, and I’ll come to find you in a second.” I placed the goggles on my head and started up the system. I’d used it to work on homework in the nest but rarely had any free time to really explore the available virtual world. I was in a mostly blank space when a knock came from a door that appeared. I walked over and discovered Beth dressed in a fancy, sparkly blue dress like she was going to prom or something. “You look gorgeous!” I told her, even as I looked down at the simple pair of jeans and sweatshirt I wore. She laughed, “My sisters and I always like to play a bit of dress-up here. It’s a replica of a gown that’s some ridiculous price in real life. I’m glad you appreciate it, though! Here, why don’t we get you dressed up better too!” A prompt came then, and I accepted a new outfit that saw me dressed in a swanky tuxedo, complete with a vest that now matched her dress. She saw I was still shorter than her, “How about you go into the settings and get a bit taller for the evening?” I looked at her in shock for a moment, “wait, I can do that?” “Yep! You can change just about everything with your virtual appearance. Some things cost money, too, but height is a built-in setting. All you have to do is go...” Soon, I followed her advice to make myself the same height as her. “That’s better!” Beth said as she locked her lips around mine. “Not that I don’t love the short you too, but it’s nice to have you be the same size!” I smiled at her, “So are we actually working on homework, or…?” She laughed, “Yes, we’re working on homework too. Come on! I looked up something about that show you mentioned; I think I found the perfect setting to look over this dumpster fire of a script!” “Okay?” She grabbed my hand and led me to the door and outside into a virtual space I had yet to explore. It was a futuristic environment of a city with flying cars and busy streets, and it seemed rather chaotic. An odd vehicle pulled up then, and she said, “Let’s go,” to me. Inside, we sat for just a moment before she leaned into me, and we kissed a few more times before a voice said, “You have arrived at your destination.” “Come on,” she said, and as we exited the vehicle, I saw a large theater building in front of me that reminded me of the old Chinese Theater in LA. A red carpet led us inside, past empty ticket booths and by a concession stand manned by what I presumed was an AI character. We grabbed some popcorn, drinks, and snacks and then sat inside a large theater, and she said, “Okay, let’s take a look at what is in here. Hopefully, they improved it past the glance I took at it before.” I nodded, “Let’s see it…” The screen lit up with giant text we could both easily read. Diaper Diaries Kelly Danvers, edited by Charlotte Perez and Sebastian Johnson ACT I: Scene shows a young mother in a bathroom attempting to potty-train her daughter. CALLIE (LITTLE GIRL) STANDS IN FRONT OF HER MOTHER (SARAH) WHO HAS JUST TURNED HER AROUND TO CHECK HER PULL-UP AND TURNED HER BACK TO LOOK AT HER AS SHE KNEELS DOWN IN FRONT OF HER. SARAH (MOM): “Callie, why didn’t you tell Mommy you needed to go potty?” PAUSES “You’re supposed to go poopy on the potty like a big girl, not like in your Pull-Up like a baby!” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “I was playing, Mommy!” SARAH (MOM): “You’re supposed to stop playing and use the big girl potty! Don’t you want to wear big girl panties? You’re going to be the only girl in kindergarten in diapers!” CALLIE (DAUGHTER): “Nuh-uh! Rachel and Ellie both wear diapees too!” SARAH (MOM): (SIGHS) They’re Littles, sweetie, that’s normal for them! You’re not a Little though! CALLIE (DAUGHTER): (SPEAKS SOUNDING LIKE SHE’S ABOUT TO CRY) “Din’ you say I would always be your little girl, though?” CALLIE BREAKS DOWN INTO TEARS. HER MOM CUDDLES HER FOR A FEW MINUTES BEFORE CHANGING HER MESSY PULL-UP ON A CHANGING TABLE THAT’S RAPIDLY GETTING TO SMALL FOR HER. SARAH (MOM): “Please try and keep your stars this time?” SARAH SIGHS AND WATCHES HER DAUGHTER PLAY FOR A FEW MINUTES SARAH (MOM): “What am I going to do?!?” “Oh my God, I’m already wearing a messy Pull-Up in the opening scene?!?” Beth squirmed. “And what is she going to do…?” I shook my head. “I thought they were making some improvements to the script?” “I’m never going to be able to show my face in public again after this…” “Maybe it’ll get better?” I suggested. She looked at me with laser beams in her eyes, “Umm… You’re right, I doubt it will… Might as well keep going, though?” Throwing some popcorn at my face, she advanced the script further. SCENE 1: SARAH’S OFFICE SARAH IS RUNNING A MEETING IN A LARGE CONFERENCE ROOM WITH FIFTEEN PARTICIPANTS. SHE’S CLEARLY AGITATED AS SHE FIRES QUESTIONS AT THE PARTICIPANTS. SARAH (MOM): “How are we going to fix this?!? We can’t afford to just write off twenty- five-million dollars!?!” THE ROOM IS MOSTLY SILENT FOR A MOMENT AS SHE THEN LOOKS AT ONE MAN. SARAH (MOM): “Rob! This is your project! Are you telling me there’s no way to make this code work??? That we’ve wasted three years of development?” ROB: “Sorry, Sarah, I don’t have any answers! The code just will not seem to work at the level we need to. Every machine just bogs down...” SARAH (MOM): “Well, anyone else have any ideas? (PAUSES) “If not, I’ll just be looking at starting layoffs tomorrow! BRIAN: “Excuse me, Ms. Ingels?” EVERYONE TURNS TO LOOK AT THE SHORTEST MEMBER OF MEETING. SARAH GIVES HIM A DOUBTFUL LOOK. SARAH (MOM): “Brian, you have an idea?” BRIAN: “Well, I mentioned this to Rob, but I think if we just eliminate the...” DIALOG FADES OUT AS HE STANDS ON HIS CHAIR AND PRESSES SOME BUTTONS TO TAKE OVER THE PRESENTATION. ALL AROUND THE TABLE EXCEPT ROB STARTS NODDING. SARAH (MOM): “Make it happen, Brian! Everyone else, give him any help he asks for. Your jobs are on the line! This company is at stake!” “So I have to have a poopy accident in my pants right away in the first scene while you get to look like a genius solving all of the company’s problems?” Beth asked. “Yeah, well, at least you’re supposed to be an actual kid?” I said with a shrug. We can see I won’t be above your status forever. I think this is a lot of new material since that first draft. Rob seems like a total jerk.” “Or, at the very least, incompetent,” Beth agreed. I took another mouthful of the virtual popcorn. I enjoyed that; somehow, it generated the sensation of tasting and eating the real stuff, complete with a crunch. We continued reading down the script some more. THE MEETING BREAKS UP AND EVERYONE HURRIES OUT OF THE ROOM. SARAH RUBS HER HEAD AS A WOMAN A COUPLE YEARS YOUNGER THAN HER COMES IN. HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Everything okay, Sarah? You were biting heads off in there?” SARAH (MOM): “Not really Hailey, it’s been a hell of a couple days.” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “We’ll get this project figured out, Sarah.” SARAH (MOM): “I’m sure we will. Honestly, I’m less worried about work right now than I am home.” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Still having problems with Callie?” “Of course, she’s still having problems with Callie,” Beth rolled her eyes, “I don’t think this can get more cliché?” I laughed beside her, “Well, I think that’s kind of the point?” SARAH (MOM): (NODS) “Yes, it’s ridiculous! How can she still be peeing and pooping her Pull-Ups more than she makes it to the potty at her age?!?” (SHAKES HEAD) HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “It can’t be that bad?” SARAH (MOM): “I’m lucky if I get her to use the potty once a night! Yesterday the daycare sent a note that if she had one more day of three accidents in a day, like she’s now done more than for a week, they’re going to insist she’s back in diapers!” (THROWS HANDS UP) “Diapers! Her birthday is in two weeks, for crying out loud!!! We already kept her out of kindergarten for an extra year because of this! I must be the world’s worst mommy!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “You’re not a horrible mom, some kids just take longer?” SARAH (MOM): “We call them Littles, (EMPHASIS) Hailey, and usually, they don’t get better. What if she’s like one of them and never potty trains?!?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) (LAUGHS) “I’m sure that won’t be the case. What all have you tried at this point? Maybe I’ll have some other ideas?” SARAH (MOM): “We’ve watched every potty training cartoon on the planet, used stickers, tried the au natural approach, done three ‘boot camps,’ just used regular panties - that was a total mess! Tried corner time... I’ve even tried spankings... Nothing works, Hailey!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “How is she doing with other skills?” SARAH (MOM): “That’s probably what’s most frustrating, Hailey! She’s super bright besides this! She’s already reading chapter books!!! One of her babysitters was working on her algebra one night, and she took a video of her solving her homework problems!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Staged, right?” SARAH (MOM): “I thought so, but then she gave me her book and said, ‘Pick a random page!’” SHAKES HEAD AGAIN “I had her IQ checked then - she’s in the top one percent for her age! She’s definitely not stupid!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Maybe she’s too smart for the simple things like the potty, then? I mean if she’s reading that well, a toddler’s picture book about the potty probably isn’t that interesting?” SARAH (MOM): “What? I should try giving her a medical journal instead? BOTH WOMEN LAUGH AT THAT, EVEN AS SARAH WIPES TEARS FROM HER CHEEKS. Beth laughed a bit at that, “I think the girl reading a medical journal article about potty training would make for a good movie poster?” I groaned, “That would be you on the front like that then?” She turned red, “Never mind…” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Have you thought about a potty training buddy?” SARAH (MOM): “Huh?” SHE PAUSES. “I mean, she has friends at daycare?” SIGHS: “And, of course, they’re ALL potty trained!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Do they make fun of her for her diapers?” SARAH (MOM): “I wish! Most of them just accept she wears them like a baby. Even when I’ve seen kids say something demeaning to her, but Callie shrugs it off completely like being a baby is a good thing!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “You’re sure there’s nothing medical?” SARAH (MOM): “They’ve run every test on the planet, nothing is wrong from what they see!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Then maybe the buddy might help!” SARAH (MOM): “Hailey, I’m about willing to try everything, but what do you mean?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Get a Little? You can have them wear the same underwear and try and use them as the example?” SARAH (MOM): “Why would I want one of those? I want to be DONE changing diapers!” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “Make it a temporary situation? You don’t have to keep them in diapers forever? Mind you, I’m never letting my Mindy out of hers! Her diaper butt is soooooo cute!!!!” SARAH (MOM): “Yes, it is... But it seems so wrong to me. I’m not judging you, Hailey, I know Mindy asked you to adopt her, but I always hate forced adoptions?” HAILEY (MOM’S FRIEND) “So, find a volunteer?” SARAH (MOM): “Right...” SARAH LOOKS AT THE TIME “Anyway, I have a holo meeting with shareholders in an hour, I better get going.” THE TWO EMBRACE BRIEFLY IN A HUG BEFORE THE SCENE FADES OUT. “And, of course, I’ll get to be the lucky volunteer,” I told Beth. She nodded, “Somehow, I don’t think it’s that simple, though, in the end.” “I can tell they did make some changes, at least. I think in the original, you were just a stupid girl who couldn’t potty train? Now you’re some kind of genius who’s just too smart to sit still that long and use the potty?” “Why use the potty when you can do fun stuff?” Beth shook her head. “At least neither of us were directly in that scene!” “I’m sure that won’t last long,” I told her. “Probably not…” She brought up the next part of the script. SCENE: SARAH’S OFFICE SARAH’S CORNER OFFICE IS LARGE WITH GLASS WINDOWS ON TWO SIDES. A COUCH SITS TO ONE SIDE WITH SOME CHAIRS FACING IT. SHE CURRENTLY SITS AT HER LARGE DESK TYPING SOMETHING INVISIBLE TO THE VIEWER WITH HER INTEGRATED CONTACTS. A SOUND OF ‘INCOMING CALL FROM WIDDLE LEARNERS’ IS HEARD. SARAH SIGHS. SARAH (MOM): “What now?!?” SARAH VISIBLY PREPARES AND STEADIES HERSELF. SARAH (MOM): “Hello?” GINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “Miss Ingels?” SARAH (MOM): “This is her?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “This is Regina Sanders from Callie’s daycare?” SARAH (MOM): “Oh, hi!” (PAUSES) “Is something wrong with Callie?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I’m sorry to have to call and tell you this, but we’ve talked about her hitting the three-strikes rule a couple times last week?” SARAH (MOM): (GRIMACES) “Yes?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “We’ve let it go because she is a Big, and not a Little, but she just pooped her pants again less than fifteen minutes after we changed her wet Pull-Up and sat her on the potty.” SARAH (MOM): “Ughh! Again?” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “It’s a bit worse than that, I’m afraid. She had a pretty major blowout out of her Pull-Up. It got all over her outfit, then unfortunately leaked onto the floor she was sitting on. As Miss Amy went to change her, one of Callie’s classmates sat in it...” SARAH (MOM): “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): LAUGHS: “Well, that’s not the end of the world, but it does bring me to my point. We can’t keep letting your daughter wear Pull-Ups here anymore. It’s just not containing her accidents... which I don’t really think are really just accidents because she never makes it to the potty on her own.” SARAH (MOM): “But...” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I’m sorry, Miss Ingels, we’ve already put her in a diaper for the rest of the day until you come to pick her up. If you’re going to continue to keep her here, we need you to understand she’s going to be kept in diapers for at least a few more weeks before we consider the potty again.” SARAH (MOM): “But she’s a Big girl!” REGINA SANDERS (DAYCARE OWNER): “I know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me either, but she’s not using the potty. We can discuss more when you pick Callie up.” SARAH SLAMS THE DESK BEFORE STANDING UP AND WALKING OUT OF HER OFFICE. UNABLE TO FIX HER DAUGHTER, SHE DECIDES TO SEE HOW THE SOLUTION BRIAN IS WORKING ON IS GOING. “Well, hopefully, Brian’s solution is working better than her daughter’s?” Beth said. “An angry Big is not a good thing right now!” I agreed. A notification popped up right then, and the real world showed up as Grandma entered the room. “Hey, you two, can you pop out for a few minutes?” I pulled myself out of the virtual space and pulled the goggles off my head. “What’s up?” “Well, first, you need to drink some more, Connor,” she told me. Pointing to the full cup of fluid in her hand that I’d left in my room. “Oops…” “Go ahead, you can listen then.” She said. I started gulping at the sippy cup, at least thirsty enough to drink half of it, as she said. “Your grandfather and I want to go ahead and head to bed. Why don’t you come to your room, and I’ll help you with the potty again before you two can keep working on your homework?” Her eyes narrowed even as she grinned, “You are working on homework, right?” I nodded, “Reading through the script. Beth suggested it might be more fun in EdgeSphere than in a boring room?” “Fair enough,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you taken care of. Beth, why don’t you go ahead and get your face taken care of and get into your own jammies?” I turned to Beth, who looked embarrassed but smiled, “Okay.” “Be back in a few,” I told her. “Actually, why don’t you two hang out down in the living room now? I hesitate to think what your mothers would do to us if they found out you fell asleep in bed together?” Beth laughed, “She’d just ask for pictures, but I understand!” +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading!!! Please leave me a comment and press the Like button!!! Please leave me a comment, and also let me know if the script formatting is readable to you all? I wrote it in normal script formatting, hoping it's translating in a way to be different than my normal story text, but still readable here for you all! Thank you for all of the likes on the last chapter!!!! 💜💜💜 If you continue to feed into my obsession of these wonderful little heart things on this chapter with another 25 today/tomorrow, I'll give you another bonus on Tuesday! 😎 (Then Friday like normal) 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! 😎)

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/ After an abortive escape attempt Ben and Jack find themselves comprehensively restrained. They try to rationalise their situation before "the boss" appears with frightening news. --- 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 --- After an hour of silently watching the baby television show their moment finally came. An older male came in and moved some things around on the changing table, it looked like he was doing some kind of inventory but, crucially, he had left the door open a tiny fraction. Jack nudged Ben and nodded his head towards the open door. Ben nodded and together they slowly climbed to their feet, the moment the old man looked at them they started to run for the door. Ben was the faster of the two and made it out into the lobby slightly ahead of Jack who closed the door on the old man as he darted out. Ben saw the door they had used to enter the building and ran towards it. He pulled on the handle but found it to be locked. He yanked on the handle as hard as he could but was already aware the staff were starting to hurry over to stop them. Yet again their attempt at escaping was crushed before it had a chance to really start. Jack was grabbed first but Ben wasn’t far behind and they were soon both being dragged towards a room next to the one they were just in. Their diapers crinkled loudly as they twisted and turned in an attempt to get away. “We’re not volunteers!” Jack yelled as the door in front of them was unlocked, “Brick kidnapped us and brought us here!” Ben and Jack were pushed into the new room and they found it to be almost entirely empty. It had padded walls and a sign up near the ceiling proclaiming it to be the “Time Out Room.” “Brick?” One of the male workers repeated. “I think they mean Bill.” Francesca was nearby and looked into the room to see the two diapered men pleading their case. “We didn’t volunteer!” Ben took up the fight, “We promise! We swear we don’t want to be here!” “Are they telling the truth?” One of the men who had just dragged them into the room asked with a look of confusion. “Remember what Bill said.” Francesca replied, “He said they were going to try to convince us to let them out but part of the test was to keep them in. He said if we could keep these two in we could keep actual children in and then we’d be employed as caregivers. Remember if we do really well they’ll let us take care of people with special needs as well, that means a raise!” “But they seem…” The man started to say. “We’ll let the manager come talk to them when he comes back.” Francesca said with a finality that suggested she was in charge. Ben and Jack looked around at the padded room in defeat. There would be nothing to do in here and it was clearly supposed to be used either for people with special needs who or children who required time out either as punishment or for safety reasons. Naughty babies, which was what they were now being treated as. “Can we at least get something to wear?” Ben asked dejectedly, “It’s cold in here.” “That’s a good idea.” Francesca said as if an idea had just popped into her head. The door closed as the staff walked away. Jack got up to try to open the door but they clearly weren’t going to be so careless again. Ben simply put his head in his hands, this was all so crazy. He wondered if his parents already knew they were missing and looking for them again. For this to happen twice was insane and he still hadn’t totally forgiven Jack for getting them into it. After a couple of minutes the door opened again and Francesca appeared with two of the bigger office workers behind her. “Take your onesies off and throw them over here.” Francesca said. Ben and Jack pulled apart the poppers on their onesies and then pulled them over their heads leaving them in only their diapers. Francesca balled them both up and held them in her arms, she looked over her shoulders to the larger men. “Proceed.” Francesca said. Ben and Jack were stood in the middle of the small padded room as the two guards came in. They were holding bundles of clothing but neither of the diapered men could quite make out what they were except that it didn’t look like a normal set of clothes. “Be good boys.” The bald man said as he advanced into the room, “Let us dress you and maybe you’ll get a reward. Turn around.” “Turn around?” Ben repeated with a frown. “Just do it.” The bald man said impatiently, “Unless you want to be left in here in just those diapers.” Ben shrugged and turned around with a sigh. Jack followed soon afterwards though felt suspicious of the whole situation. It was too chilly in the padded room to remain in diapers and nothing else. “Hold your arms up.” The bald man continued. “When’s Brick coming?” Jack asked as he faced the opposite wall. There was no answer to Jack’s question. Instead both Ben and Jack simultaneously felt something being slipped down their arms. It felt almost like a sweater but heavier. The garments were rapidly pulled down and forced the boy’s arms against their chests. They were essentially hugging themselves and they belatedly realised they were being forced into straightjackets. “Hey!” Jack struggled but it was already too late. Jack wriggled from side to side but was already trapped. The straps were done up behind his back trapping him in the restrictive clothing. By the time he was pushed forwards he was completely locked in. He looked over to Ben and saw that his friend was similarly trapped. When Ben was shoved he fell over on to the padded floor and seemed to have a lot of trouble getting back up. If the hapless men thought that was the end of their troubles they were quickly proven wrong. More of the workers came into the padded room with brightly coloured helmets. Without the use of their arms neither Ben nor Jack could do anything to prevent this. They were forced down on to their backs as the helmets, similar to what an amateur boxer would wear, were forced on and tightly strapped. The two men felt like they were prisoners who were thought to possibly self-harm and everything was being done to prevent it. No doubt the staff saw this as a way of proving their credentials. Even now the pain wasn’t over as the men who had put the helmets on Ben and Jack held them down. Neither could see past the burly office workers but they could feel leather straps around their ankles. A long metal bar was attached to the cuff forcing the diapered men’s legs apart. Ben and Jack had been completely immobilised. As the men backed off Ben and Jack tried to test their binds. The straightjacket had very little give and neither of the boys could stand up thanks to the spreader bars holding their legs apart. They were helpless on the floor but struggled desperately. “If the bosses see this they’ll be sure to give us responsibilities for both disabled visitors and people who break the rules!” One of the men said as he looked down at their work. “Good work boys.” Francesca nodded her head and smiled, “The personal touch will always be better than machines.” “You’re all crazy!” Ben yelled with a red face. “Let. Us. Out!” Jack exclaimed. “Quiet now.” Francesca waved her hand, “Or we’ll get the gags. You two just wait here until the boss comes in to see you.” Jack was baring his teeth in anger whilst Ben had his eyes closed and felt extremely sorry for himself. Neither of the men could really move all that much, the spreader bar on their legs and the straightjacket left them lying on the floor and any time they did try to move they ended up just flopping like a fish before running out of energy again. Ben and Jack were left alone as all the park employees left whilst congratulating each other. They closed and locked the door behind them and returned to work leaving Ben and Jack on the floor of the padded room. “What the Hell is even going on!?” Ben hissed across the room after a few minutes. “I don’t know.” Jack was just staring up at the ceiling listlessly, “It looks like they’re doing some test on who can care for babies, the disabled and troublemakers, the human staff or the robots.” “Well, what about taking us out in front of all those people? Surely some of them would’ve seen that not everything was right.” Ben reasoned as he tried to roll over. He got halfway before his strength ran out and he ended up flat on his back again. “It’s weird.” Jack agreed, “But I think this is just a training day or something. There were no kids out there. I think they were all staff and people they know.” “When’s Brick or their boss or whoever getting here?” Ben asked with a deep sigh. “Jesus, Ben, I don’t know.” Jack replied in exasperation. He was annoyed at the questions he didn’t have answers for but he also felt a growing need to use his diaper, “I know just as much as you do.” “Geez, sorry…” Ben muttered darkly, “I wasn’t the one who got us trapped here.” Jack chose to ignore the stinging barb. The boys simply waited in silence for the door to open and the next part of their ordeal get revealed to them. They had no way of telling the time but it seemed to be taking forever, the only way they knew anyone was still there was when Francesca or one of the guys walked over to look through the small window in the door. Jack wouldn’t be able to contain his bowels forever and he broke the silence with a distressed whine followed by a grunt. With a face going red Jack pushed down and felt a sudden expansion in the back of his diaper. A huge lump formed before being flattened down and spreading over his bare skin. Despite having to do this so many times he couldn’t help but feel humiliated at soiling himself. Jack’s accident soon became obvious to Ben even if the grunting hadn’t given it away. A smell of fresh faecal matter spread through the air and soon made the room just that much more unpleasant. Ben did his best to shuffle away from his friend but the smell was inescapable as was the soft sobbing Jack had lapsed into. The pair of diapered men waited and waited. There was no sign of anyone coming and Ben found his eyes growing heavy out of sheer boredom. He was doing his best to stay awake until he heard soft snoring coming from Jack. When he looked over he saw that Jack was completely still and clearly asleep. As if it was permission Ben closed his eyes as well, he welcomed sleep as a device to get this over with even quicker. --- “It smells like a pigsty in here.” Brick’s voice cut through the silence and woke Ben and Jack straight up. Neither of the diapered men could disagree with the bully’s harsh assessment. The room was rank with the smell of waste and both Ben and Jack were contributing towards it. The smell of pee and poop was so bad it felt like there should be a sign on the door warning of the toxicity beyond. The straightjackets and feet spreaders rendered the two unfortunate victims unable to really move as Brick walked into the room with his characteristic swagger. Ben looked up with wide eyes full of fear whilst Jack was practically snarling like a dog when a threat was near. “You guys really fucked up, you know that?” Brick said idly, “Trying to snitch on me. It was a big mistake.” “We didn’t have a choice.” Ben replied with a shaky voice, “The cops were at our houses when we got back.” “And instead of making up some other reason you decided to tell them about what I had done.” Brick shook his head in disappointment. “We told the truth!” Jack spat angrily. “It doesn’t matter now.” Brick said darkly, “Now that I have this job I have to make sure that you don’t spread anymore slander against me. Do you know what’s happening here?” “It’s another theme park?” Ben answered, “But who would hire you after what happened?” “Not only hire me but give me a massive promotion and lots of money!” Brick clarified with a bark of a laugh, “I don’t know who owns this place to be honest but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Well, the park isn’t open yet. We’re testing things and one of the things that we are checking is whether or not we should use the automated system from the last place. Everyone here is an employee or friend of an employee. They were all told you are volunteers. A couple of dudes into this as a weird fetish thing.” “You bastard…” Jack muttered as his cheeks went red with embarrassment. Brick broke into laughter and nodded his head. He clapped his hands twice and two of the robotic nannies appeared in the doorway. He was commanding them like his own little personal army. Ben and Jack instinctively flinched and tried to shimmy away but their bondage made that incredibly difficult, all Jack managed to do was spread the mess in the back of his diaper all over his butt and lower back. “I’m not sure how much time I have left here. I’m not stupid enough to think you two won’t cause me more problems. Fortunately I’ve saved up some money and once I make the pair of you disappear I will quickly be leaving myself.” Brick relayed his insane plot as if it was totally normal, “I already have flights booked and everything.” With another couple of claps the robots moved into the room. They knelt down next to each of the diapered men as tubes started extending from their breasts. Ben and Jack knew what that meant and quickly closed their mouths. They were struggling to process what they were hearing from Brick, it really sounded like he had gone off the deep end. The men tried to resist the force feeding but with their limbs bound there wasn’t a lot they could do and the see-through tubes were pushed between their lips. Milk poured down the tubes with Ben and Jack having to swallow regularly in the way that they had become accustomed during their stays with Brick. The bully was still standing over them and watching. Ben and Jack were very alarmed by what Brick had said but their concentration was taken completely by their drinks and it wasn’t long before they could feel their bodies weakening. It felt almost like they were floating as the darkness of unconsciousness weighed heavily on their eyes. Before too long they were both out cold as the nannies withdrew the tubes back into their chests and picked the boys up. “Come on.” Brick said as he watched the nurses carrying Ben and Jack walk past, “Not too long to go now.”

Rob and Sue's New Life - Chapter 7 'Are you feeling better, baby?' asked Sue, holding her husband and stroking his hair. 'Yes,' said Rob. 'Good,' said Sue. She picked up the remote and turned on Rob's cartoon show. 'You sit here and enjoy the cartoons and I'll get us a snack,' said Sue. She got up and turned to Rob. 'A drink and some cookies?' she asked. 'OK,' replied Rob. Rob looked at his wife as she turned and went to the kitchen. She was wearing grey slacks and a white blouse. She looked like any normal adult woman about to go to work. She wasn't wearing a diaper because she didn't need one. Rob tried to picture himself when he used to go to work every day, wearing a suit - and no diaper. The image in his mind was like a scene from a movie, as if he were watching someone else, not him. His reality was different. He looked down at the puffy plastic pants with his diaper beneath. He needed to wear a diaper because he wet his pants, and now he messed them too. He was dressed properly now. A T shirt and diaper was all ne needed. He looked at his bare legs and feet. He didn't need shoes now either. He was suddenly aware of a little muscular jerk in his groin as he stopped peeing. He hadn't even realised he'd started, but now he felt the spreading warmth in his diaper. Simultaneously, he wanted Sue, and responded to the urge by calling out to her. Rob was shocked by the sound he heard himself make. He hadn't intended to say anything in particular in calling to Sue, but it wasn't the loud, inarticulate wail that came from somewhere within him. Once he'd started he couldn't stop it. He realised with a kind of horror that he was crying because he'd wet his diaper. Through his tears eyes he saw Sue rushing from the kitchen. His tears and crying abated as Sue sat down next to him and put her arms around him. Sue put a hand to the warm front of his diaper. 'Sshh, honey, you're just wet,' she told him. 'We'll get you changed before our snack, OK? You've had a difficult morning, but everything's OK now.' Sue's impulse was to say 'Mommy's here now and everything's all right,' but she ckecked herself. 'I'm here now and everything's all right,' she assured Rob. Rob was quiet and compliant as Sue changed his diaper on the floor in front of the sofa. As she dusted his modest genitals with baby powder she noticed with satisfaction that his skin was smooth and totally hairless. The permanent depilatory treatment had done its work. Sue thought his skin seemed softer too. She thought it was odd how utterly happy she felt, diapering her husband. She looked down at Rob, who was staring at her breasts beneath her blouse as she leant over him. She smiled at him and felt regret that she didn't have time to sit and suckle him. With Rob back on the sofa watching TV, Sue got the cookies and drinks together. As they sat eating, Sue wondered if she should leave Rob alone while she was at work. She didn't want him trying to take off and refit his diaper while she wasn't there. She decided to talk to Jane about it, but for today she thought things would work out. 'Rob,' she said to him, 'I'm going to work in a minute, but I'll be back at lunchtime to get you something to eat, and to change you if you need it. I don't want you trying to take off your diaper if I'm not here, OK? If you have to use it, that's OK.' Rob looked at her. It didn't seem long ago that he was occasionally wetting the bed and they were arguing about him needing to wear a nighttime diaper, and now he was diapered during the day and she was telling him it was OK to wet it. He felt like a toddler being talked to by his mommy. It wasn't just a superficial, fleeting feeling, either. It felt like reality. 'Last one,' said Sue, interrupting his thoughts as she picked up the last cookie and offered it to Rob, who opened his mouth to accept it. Sue stood up. 'I'm going to work now,' she said. 'I'll be back at lunchtime, and I'm finishing early, so I won't be away long. Just watch cartoons, and' Sue said, glancing at the cartons nearby, 'You could start on sorting those boxes. But don't make a mess. And remember, use your diaper if you have to, and I'll change you. It's what it's for. OK honey?' 'OK,' said Rob. He was aware that things were very different today than they had been yesterday, but wasn't sure exactly when that had happened. He was doing his best to accept that Sue was leaving, although, he realised, she'd been going to work every day. But today was different. Rob watched her walking out the door and cried for a while after she'd left. He watched cartoons for some time, then got off the sofa to go to the cardboard boxes. Without realising it, instead of standing up, he put one knee to the floor and climbed down. It didn't seem worth standing up for such a short walk. He crawled the few metres to the boxes and was soon unpacking the first one. It was the one he'd dropped, and was full of trinkets - a few small framed photos, some lamps and other items. Rob repacked the things he'd taken outband opened the next box. He grinned as he saw his old teddy. 'Hullo!' he said aloud, sitting Teddy carefully to one side. He removed a bulky cotton bag. Inside, he was pleased to see, were his old Legos, and a collection of plastic farm animals. This was a find, he thought, shaking all the pieces onto the floor. Like riding a bike, he seemed not to have forgotten any of his favourite pieces and how they fitted together. When Sue arrived, Rob was still sitting happily on the floor with Teddy propped up next to him. He'd constructed a kind of Lego farm layout, and was moving animals from one place to another. Rob heard the door open, and before Sue could greet him, he called out 'Look!' to her and sat back from his work as she approached. 'My Legos!' Rob said excitedly. 'And Teddy!' Sue smiled down at him. She could see the darkened diaper under the crotch of his plastic pants. She took in the sight, and felt a surge of happy emotion. 'Haven't you been having fun,' she said to him. 'Well, come and sit down and tell me all about your morning, then we'd better change that wet diaper,' she added, going to the sofa and sitting down. Sue was a little surprised to see Rob crawl over to the sofa and climb up onto it to sit next to her. She was glad he was wearing plastic pants. He really did need them, she thought. Rob snuggled happily against her. 'I found all my Legos!' he began. To ge continued.

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!

Charlotte is fed and bathed as she is prepared for the next part of her life. What indignities will Charlotte have to suffer next and will she be able to stop the seemingly unstoppable Nanny? --- This has been available on my Patreon for the last week and for just a $5 pledge you can see every post I make one week before it goes public. I post once every four days and can only maintain that with the generous support of patrons. For a $10 pledge you can get early access plus exclusive stories that are only available to patrons. There are other tiers and rewards available on my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 A big thank you to everyone who currently supports me and allows me to keep up the schedule I currently write to: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Sophie S, Chris, Dre, Alejandro S, Mike H, Kei, Dorian G, Askthor er, C Dom, Persi S, Ceneroz, Rob, Drew J, Kyle L, Darrell, Jack C, S Millard, Cheryl C, Carlota C, Alex W, Ron M, Tsidt, Britnee L, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Cole T, J Land, Tim F, Chris B, WillNotWill, Jerry J, Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, John D, Daniel W, LuvsSissy, Epsilon89, Paul O, Kimberley S, Cole S, Cole, Art M, Guilyn, Erik P, Bojack D, Shihouin10, Scott S, Diapering Daddy, Miguel A, James B, A Random Patreon, Eric C, Ben R, Lin J, Ben F, Henry C, Bob, Michelle G, Kent J --- “Feeding time.” Nanny said emotionlessly. Charlotte’s joy faded away and she let out some muffled sobs and saw the robot connect that same tube from where her breast would be to the pacifier attached to Charlotte’s head. Charlotte saw the same white liquid start flowing down the tube and began to fill up the bulb inside her mouth. Charlotte gave the teat a suck and squeezed it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She felt the milk squirt into her mouth and the bulb filled again. Charlotte repeated the procedure and kept on feeding from Nanny. The cool milk did taste nice and she would take any distraction from the television. By the time the milk stopped filling up the bulb Charlotte was groaning from her full belly. When the tube was pulled out of her pacifier she took a couple of deep breaths and let out a long involuntary burp. She prayed that she would be allowed out of the high chair but was left disappointed when the strange television was turned back on and Nanny left the room. Charlotte didn’t even get her diaper, now feeling cold and itchy, changed. It was another few hours, Charlotte had no way of knowing how long for sure, before the screen went black. She had spent the last several hours letting the programme wash over her and she just watched it tiredly. Twice more she wet her diaper and she knew that it wouldn’t take much more to cause it to leak, she was surprised it had taken as much punishment as it had. When Nanny walked into the room again Charlotte didn’t dare hope that this was the end of her time in front of the television. She could barely even remember when it had started, all she could see in her mind were those damn singing animals. Charlotte felt the straps that held her down get undone one by one and felt relief at being able to move again. Her aching muscles were thankful to be able to move again after so long locked in one position. As she slid forward off the chair she felt gravity pull her heavy diaper down and the tapes looked like they were struggling to hold on to Charlotte’s hips. Charlotte didn’t get to enjoy her freedom for long as no sooner had she found her feet than she found her being swept off them again. The heavy metal arm reached around her from the front and pushed the messy padding against the young woman’s behind. She barely reacted, she just hoped she was going to be taken out of this horrible diaper. With surprise, Charlotte realised the Nanny was carrying her out of the door which she had exited several times. The corridor had one door at the other end but Charlotte was carried through a door to the side. It wasn’t the freedom she hoped for, it was a bathroom. The bathroom was very simple. The room was lined completely by tiles, all of them white. There was no toilet in the room, there was just a large bathtub with shower attachments. To the side of the room there was a sink and mirror. When Charlotte caught a look at herself in the mirror she gasped at how ragged she looked. Nanny carried Charlotte to the large tub and stood her up in it. Charlotte found her legs were feeling rather weak after not moving for so long but she was happy when Nanny reached forward and pulled the tapes off the diaper. It fell to the bottom of the tub with a loud splat and Charlotte blushed as she looked at the mess she had made, the smell was awful. “Time to clean you up.” Nanny said as she leant down and balled the diaper up. The machine seemed unperturbed by the smell of Charlotte’s bowel movement. Charlotte shivered slightly as she stood naked in the tub. She wanted to fightback but she couldn’t make herself do it, she felt too vulnerable and scared. She was so different from the Charlotte that had boldly broken into this facility and she wondered if that was the point of everything that happened. Charlotte didn’t even know how long it had been. Was anyone looking for her? Did they think she had just taken a break? Charlotte wondered how long it would take for people to know she was missing. “Ah!” Charlotte was brought back to her present position when she felt a sudden blast of lukewarm water hit her. Charlotte felt the Nanny turn her this way and that as the water washed off the filth that was still stuck to her. She blushed extra hard when she was bent over and the Nanny spread her cheeks to wash her more thoroughly. She murmured complaints of being able to wash herself but these were predictably ignored. When the showerhead was turned off and replaced, Nanny started running the bath and sat Charlotte down in the tub that quickly started filling. “I can wash myself…” Charlotte said slightly louder. The empty room caused her voice to echo. “Let Nanny help to make sure the baby girl is clean.” Nanny replied dismissively. Charlotte scowled in the tub as the warm water and soap was liberally applied all over her body. The Nanny seemed totally uncaring about Charlotte’s sense of dignity as she felt the hands rubbing all over her body no matter how private the area. When the bathing was over, Charlotte was lifted out, towelled down and dried. She was prepared to head back to the main room when Nanny stood her in front of the mirror. She was confused and a little humiliated to be standing there completely naked as the Nanny started fiddling with her hair. The robot was seemingly combing Charlotte’s hair as if she were a doll. It was almost relaxing for the young woman to have her hair groomed like this. She closed her eyes and stopped worrying about what was happening, she just tried to take a moment to relax. She thought back to her friends and family, the people she would see when she escaped. She would escape of course, there was no way this was the rest of her life. Charlotte remembered her favourite music and favourite TV shows, things she could look forward to. She smiled as she remembered one television show in particular. It was a show set in a small farm and it had these happy little animals who sing songs and… “No!” Charlotte’s eyes snapped open with her sudden outburst. That damn cartoon was infiltrating her mind. “But you look very pretty like this.” Nanny replied. Despite all it’s power and control it clearly had no idea what was going on in Charlotte’s mind. “Wha-” Charlotte was cut off almost as soon as she started when she looked in the mirror and saw Nanny holding up her hair. To be more precise, the Nanny held up two braided pigtails that came out of the side of her head. “I’m not a little girl!” Charlotte whined as that old fire of annoyance welled up inside her, “I’m an adult with a career…” “You are a baby girl.” Nanny interrupted. Charlotte was about to respond when she was turned around and then lifted up by the robot. The cold metal arms caused the woman to shiver a little as she carried back through to the nursery. Charlotte reached up to feel her new haircut as she was carried over to the changing table and laid down. She cringed at her own infantile appearance as she was placed on her back. As she watched Nanny reach for a new disposable diaper she felt like she should resist in some way, make a desperate break for freedom. Despite the desire for escape, the crushing hopelessness of Charlotte’s position meant she didn’t move. She didn’t resist as her legs were raised up and lowered, she didn’t resist when the front of the diaper was pulled up snuggly and taped closed and she didn’t resist when she was lowered off the table. Charlotte stood awkwardly as Nanny pulled a form off the shelf and placed it on the table. “Come here.” Nanny ordered. Charlotte sighed and stepped forward. She wasn’t happy but she knew that if she didn’t voluntarily step forward that she would be made to do so one way or another. She waddled forward in the fresh diaper unable to find any silver lining in complying with the order but the thought to resist was never a serious thought. As Charlotte walked over to the table on shaky legs she noticed her diaper seemed so much louder than before. She wondered whether it was just her imagination or if her newly changed diaper was just much more crinkly. It probably wasn’t helped that she was wearing no clothes over her diaper. Her modesty in this place was non-existent at this point. “Write your name.” Nanny commanded Charlotte. Charlotte was confused as she looked down at a blank piece of A4 paper with a pen next to it. Why did Nanny want her to write her name? With a small shrug of her shoulders, Charlotte picked up the pen and leaned over the table. She put the tip to the paper and then paused. “Whenever you are ready.” Nanny said as it looked down at the paper. Charlotte frowned as she tried to remember how to write. She couldn’t explain it, she could see the writing in her mind but she couldn’t make her hand write the letter. She felt panic rising in her body as she failed with this simple task. “What the hell!?” Charlotte yelled as she threw the pen on to the table, “What have you done to me?” “Please try again.” Was the only response Charlotte received. Charlotte took a deep breath as her heart hammered in her chest. She leaned down and picked the pen up again. She stuck her tongue out in concentration when she pressed the pen to the paper. “Come on…” Charlotte muttered herself as if she was trying to search for the answer to a particularly difficult exam question. Charlotte started moving the pen on the paper as best as she could and for a few seconds she felt relief wash over her as the pen danced across the paper. She smiled as she wrote her name, she wrote her surname just to show off. “Easy.” Charlotte said with a wide smile. She wasn’t sure why she was so pleased at being able to write her name but she felt pride swelling despite herself. Nanny looked down at the paper without response, it’s face as expressionless as it ever was and Charlotte waited for a few seconds to see what was next. It was only when Nanny remained unmoved that she looked down at the sheet herself. “Wha-… But…” Charlotte looked from the paper to the nanny and back in confusion. This didn’t make sense. Where Charlotte had thought she had written her signature she saw just a childish scribble, an undecipherable mess of pen lines that could have said anything. “Write “I love Nanny.”” Nanny said. Charlotte didn’t care that she was trying to write something she disagreed with or that was embarrassing to her. She tried her hardest to focus on each letter that she needed to put on paper. Yet again, when the pen left the paper she gasped as she saw nothing but a scribble. “Good effort.” Nanny lied. “What have you done to me!?” Charlotte screamed. The once proud journalist, someone who prided themselves on their excellent writing skills, now couldn’t form even the simplest of words. “Re-education is complete.” Nanny responded simply. Charlotte wasn’t even sure if Nanny was replying to her or just stating a fact. Charlotte thought back to that cartoon she had watched for hours on end, the weird way it messed with her mind. Had it affected her ability to write and communicate? Was it even possible for to have been affected like that? Charlotte looked down at the paper with the childish scribbles and had no other explanation. Whilst Charlotte was still reeling from this latest revelation she felt herself picked up and gently placed in the crib again. The bars were lifted and she was sealed inside. Charlotte sat dumbly on her padded rear as she tried to take in what was happening, she was in shock. What sort of technology was at work here? How did they get the funding? Who were the customers? Questions chased each other through Charlotte’s head and she wished she was in a position to investigate still. “Big day for you tomorrow.” Nanny said once the bars were raised and Charlotte was effectively trapped, “Your new life will be beginning soon.” The words were like a bucket of ice cold water tipped over Charlotte’s head. Tomorrow? She wasn’t ready, she would never be ready! “No… I need more time!” Charlotte half-shouted. She had to escape. She needed more time to find a way out. Nanny left the nursery again and Charlotte was stuck in the toddler bed with panic threatening to overwhelm her. Charlotte stood up on to her shaky legs and her first thought was to climb out of the crib. She jumped up and grabbed the horizontal bar running across the top but found it spun in her grip and Charlotte couldn’t maintain her grip. Charlotte tried bending the vertical bars but found them to be absolutely rock solid. She thought about ripping her diaper off but she knew that would only end with her totally restricted which was the last thing she needed. “There must be a way…” Charlotte muttered. Lifting up the ends of the mattress, Charlotte looked for a trap door or something. There was nothing. This crib was harder to escape from than Alcatraz. Charlotte tried to think but found that damn song kept coming to the forefront of her mind. “Shut up!” Charlotte shouted to herself. Charlotte put her finger against the mattress and started trying to trace her name. She must be able to do it, she just had to concentrate. The information must be in her mind somewhere. After a minute of trying to work out how to start, Charlotte began to sob quietly. She tipped over sideways and laid down as she sobbed quietly and begged someone to come and take her home. She felt so weak and defeated, she just wanted to tap out and admit her loss. “Alright… You win!” Charlotte yelled through her sobs. Silence. “Let me go and I won’t tell anyone what I’ve seen here.” Charlotte continued, “I won’t write about anything anymore… I can’t write about anything.” Silence. “Please! I’m begging you to let me go.” Charlotte yelled. She was still laying sideways on the mattress and her tears were creating a small wet spot under her head. When there was still no reaction Charlotte lapsed into silence. The only sounds in the entire room were her sobs and cries.

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

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

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