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Chapter 14- Adventures in Petsitting pt. 2 My second day with Ruby wasn’t really going any better than the first. After I had the bright idea to a sneak a cookie from the partially open bag she left out in living room, I found myself scolded and leashed to the couch. This left me a captive audience as she started going on and on about her plans for own eventual pet as I laid there apathetically. She couldn’t help herself from tossing in another passive-aggressive comment about how she was going condition her pet to love attention from all humans. With tactless jabs like those, Ruby really was the perfect target to project all my frustration onto over becoming a pet. “Maybe you two could be playmates. Oooh, like pet cousins!” she gushed, “Oh my god, that’s so flippin' cute!” “That is, if you ever Bond to someone and if you end up on that side of leash,” I snidely inserted. “Look, I was born to be a Keeper. I read all the books, I listen to the podcasts, I watch the reality TV shows— ‘Pets of the Stars’, ‘Real Life of Pets.’ I’m basically an unbound Keeper.” “Pfft, you are not a Keeper,” I scoffed. “You wouldn’t get it, there’s just no way you could understand the Bond.” I smirked, relishing the chance to be the smug one. “But maybe you’ll be able to when you finally do Bond and become a pet.” “Oh my god, are all new pets this bratty or were you just plain rude as a human too?” she huffed. “I would never let my pet talk back the way you do.” “Well I’m not your pet, I’m Annie’s. And I don’t need to talk back to her because she’s not a dick.” Ruby was standing over me in a flash, faster than I was ready for. She gripped my leash tight so I was forced to stare up at her. Despite my resolve, I felt my body instinctively cowering as my submissive nature bared itself. “You are such a bad boy! You are so lucky Annie told me I couldn’t muzzle you, or wash your mouth out with soap.” Her furrowed brow turned to a smirk, “But…I can put you in a timeout. And I think it’s well deserved. So let’s go, little pup,” she chirped. She tugged on my leash enough to get me to come down off the couch, pulling me in the direction of my cage. I used all my strength to pull back. “No! That’s not fair! I didn’t do anything!” “You’re being disrespectful and acting like a spoiled brat,” she retorted and continued to drag me. “This is bullshit! Just because you get off acting like a Keeper doesn’t mean I should have to suffer.” “And swearing too. Bad boy! Bad bad boy! Move, Oliver. Now,” she warned. “Do you really want me to tell Annie you disobeyed like this?” I huffed loudly and relented, letting her lead me to the kennel. With a firm hand on my padded bottom she pushed me in and quickly latched the door shut. “Annie is going to be so disappointed in you, pet," she said before walking away. Those words punched me in the gut. If Ruby knew what that meant to a pet, it would’ve been cruel. I wanted to bark something back at her but she had left and I was too emotional for any quick wit anyway. Is she right? Did I let Annie down? Of course I did. Ruby is her sister and I made her hate me. I’m such a selfish pet. I felt the coldness of my Keeper’s disappointment wrap around me. I tried to warm myself with the blanket, but it wasn’t enough. I could barely smell Annie, at least not nearly enough to calm me down. The sweater she left for me filled with her scent was still on the couch. I wanted to ask Ruby for it so badly but my pride and embarrassment wouldn’t let me. My disdain for her grew. None of this felt fair, and I hated that I was now saddled with this person in my life. Sleep was out of the question given my emotional state, and hearing Ruby’s idle chuckles as she scrolled through her phone while I was caged with nothing to do but wallow. She should be the one locked away in a cage, on a leash. I didn’t have a good sense of time since bonding; minutes sometimes felt like hours, while time spent with my Keeper flew by. I held out as long as I possibly could in the cage before getting up and looking out to catch a glimpse of Ruby eating some sort of avocado toast and watching TV. “Ruby, I’m sorry,” I announced, swallowing my pride. “Yeah, I bet you are,” she said nonchalantly, taking another bite of her snack. “Come on, Ruby, you made your point. Let me out. I’m cold.” “Oliver, you don’t tell me an adult to do anything. You ask. So ask me.” I bit my tongue. “Can you please let me out?” “And what are you not going to do anymore?” “I’m not going to…” I gritted my teeth, “talk back to you.” “Because you’re a what?” She’s the fucking worst. “Because I’m a pet.” “Good boy.” She moved to unlock the cage. “How’s your diapey?” she asked. “It’s fine,” I lied. “Ah ah ah, not so fast,” She caught me and felt around for herself. “Even if you were being incredibly snotty, Annie would kill me if I left you a soggy diaper for long. Come on, let’s change you. Diaper change time!” I was too defeated to put up a fight. I was still devastated thinking about how Annie was going to react to me defying Ruby. I stayed silent anything as Ruby swaddled my bottom in one of the horribly embarrassing diapers with infantile prints on them. I immediately b-lined for Annie’s sweater. It helped but I still felt cold. And humiliated. “I want to take a nap in Annie’s bed,” I said to Ruby as innocently as I could. “She said it was fine. Please can I?” “Why, so you can get into some mischief where I can’t see you?” “No! I won’t do anything, I swear! Leash me up, stay in there with me— I don’t care. I’m just so cold. Please.” I saw her face soften, as if she actually was a normal empathetic human. “Fine.” She picked up my leash and led me to the bedroom. I curled up in the fetal position, face buried in the pillows, trying to surround myself in Annie’s scent— anything I could to do alleviate the gray, murky cloud hanging over me. I was grateful Ruby left the room. I tried to keep my sniffling tears as quiet as possible. I woke up to Annie picking me up and pulling me into her lap. I immediately wrapped my arms around her waist. My eyes were still damp. “You had a pretty hard day, huh sweet boy?” She asked gently. I nodded, wanting to cry all over. “I’m sorry,” I squeaked. “It’s okay, love. You are warm and everything is going to be okay. I’m not mad with you. I talked to Ruby, and I understand where you’re coming from…both of you.” “I hate her,” I said softly. Annie let out a deep sigh. “Look, she’s just jealous she’s not a Keeper and she’s overcompensating with you. I mean seriously, she’s talked about wanting a pet of her own since we were kids. She’s always telling me about some kinky BDSM shit she’s doing in the bedroom where she can boss someone around and make them act like a pet. ” “Yeah well, I hope she becomes the pet…,” I grumbled. “Maybe then she wouldn’t be such an asshole.” “Hey, No. None of that, honey,” she warned me. “You need to at least try to be nicer to her. She’s doing us a huge favor helping out like this. She could be home resting before her ten-hour overnight shifts but instead she’s giving up her time to be here looking after you. At the end of the day she really does mean well, even if she comes across poorly…or very poorly.” “Yeah, but you should hear the things she says.” “I know how she can be, trust me. Which is why I’m not more upset with you. I’m proud of you for being so brave through all this change. But still, I don’t want to hear about you giving her a hard time like that.” “I won’t, but she’ll probably just lie about it to get me in trouble anyway!” I whined. “No, I’ll know. Because I’ll ask you and you will tell me the truth, won’t you, my precious pet?” She said in her impenetrable Keeper voice, with a hint of her irresistible flirting that made me feel small in the best way possible. “Mmhmm.” “Yes you will, sweet thing. Plus, I have the pet cams anyway,” she smirked. She bent down and kissed me on the forehead. “I know you’re having a hard time, but I promise it will get better soon. Once we both settle into things. I love you so much.” The next few days were better. Annie had clearly talked to Ruby and it didn’t feel like we were at each others’ throats as much. I found if I just indulged her desire to baby me a little bit, things went a lot better. I still didn’t like her, but appeasing her for Annie’s sake actually made me feel good— like I was showing love to my Keeper. I was in a good mood on Friday because it meant Annie would be home from the weekend. I was lot less snappy with Ruby. However, my body hadn’t cooperated to have my morning bowel movement before Annie left, which meant unless I could hold out until she was home, I was about to cross another mortifying threshold with my petsitter. Every minute felt like an hour as my gut grumbled. But I had learned by now that sheer willpower wouldn’t be enough to overcome my pet biology, so I finally got up and moved over to Ruby with my head low. “Um, Ruby?” “Mmhmm, what is it, boy?” “I have to go.” She looked up from laptop. “What, potty?….And?” “Well, It— it’s number two… I, uh... my body didn’t want to go this morning,” I said sheepishly. Ruby looked amused, not used to me speaking to her so subserviently. “Okay. Well if you can’t hold it, I guess you’re going to have to just go now then, huh? You don’t, like... need my permission or something, do you?” she asked genuinely. “No. I just…I know you don’t want to have to clean it... and you wouldn’t have to if, you know…maybe you just me let use the toilet,” I pitched hesitantly. It’s odd just how tunnel-visioned pets become when they have a desire. I knew Annie had pet cams, and even if she didn't, Ruby would never lie to her on my behalf, but facts like those just completely leave my brain when I want something. Ruby just laughed off my request and looked back at her laptop. “Oh come on, save us both here. Plleaassee?” I pleaded. She rubbed her eyes in annoyance. “Ollie, no. Just do your business in you diaper like a good boy. Now. Do you really want me to tell Annie you’re trying to break the rules?” I huffed out a growl and dragged myself to the spare room to at least find some privacy before I let out a gross, soft mess into the seat of my diaper. As much as Ruby normally delighted in my embarrassment, this wasn’t going to be very fun for either of us. After I carefully laid down on the changing mat, she took a moment to steel herself. I brought an arm up over my face. “Just get it over with,” I whined impatiently. “Don’t rush me!” she snapped back. “You’re not the one who has to clean your big stinky mess.” “Well you wouldn’t have to if you just unlocked my diaper for two fricking minutes.” “Hush, you!” she warned sternly. She put on some latex gloves and made a 'i can do this' face before peeling open my diaper. “Oof, I really shoulda brought a mask for this," she said while scrunching her face. “Shut up. It’s not my fault.” “I'll let that go because you're clearly just mortified for what you've done to this poor diaper.... But it’s okay,” she softened, and then pulled out a wipe, “I know you can’t help it. Sometimes pets get a little smelly. That’s all.” The cleaning took a while because she wasn’t as practiced as Annie. “There you go,” she soothed. “Good boy being still.” It was actually kind of nice to hear her voice being gentle instead of grating. Still, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to throw in some babying comments about me being a ‘little skinker’ and be amused by my discomfort, but all things considered, I guess it could’ve been worse. She gave me some treats after wrapping me up in a fresh diaper. “But I am bringing that mask next time.” **** I’m not sure there’s really a honeymoon period with being a pet, but there was definitely a surreal feeling to the first couple weeks where it still felt temporary, like an odd vacation from real life. Whatever it was, it had worn off around my fifteenth day as a pet. The permanence of everything really hit me. I was never going back to any version of what I had before. Being collared, owned, diapered— this was my future. As Annie announced she wanted to take me for a walk and I heard the leash clip close around my collar, it all became too much to handle and I jerked back. “No, I don’t want to go! Please Annie, let me out of this stupid diaper. I don’t want to be a fucking pet anymore,” I begged, on the verge of tears, “I want my life back! Please take off these restraints. Just let me go!” Instead of being offended and feeling like I didn’t want to be with her, Annie simply wrapped her arms around me and held me as I collapsed to the floor sobbing. She rocked me gently as I wept, softly whispering reassurances and rubbing my back. She held me all night and even took off the next day of work to coddle me. We spent the day soaking in each other. Annie talked long-term about our life together— about how eventually I wouldn’t need the restraints, or even a petsitter, and how we’d make new friends, discover new hobbies, go on trips, and build a life. Imagining my future had become a source of despair, but when my Keeper talked about it, it actually sounded like a pretty wonderful life. It made me feel warm and tingly hearing her talk about me being such a permanent fixture in her life. She wanted me forever. I'd never been chosen like that by anyone before. I had never been anyone's number one. I laid against her chest and resolved that I could bear it— embrace it, even. She was worth it. My Keeper, my caregiver, my owner, my self-proclaimed mommy.

Part 3 That’s twelve days ago and, despite all his protestations, he’s still wearing a thick fabric nappy. Early on he tried a few times to lose them, and, on each occasion, he’d been found out. His parents expressed their disappointment but then gave him the opportunity of being re-nappied or experiencing an even worse (but undisclosed) punishment. By then he was so scared of what that might entail he reluctantly let himself be folded into what has become his customary thick fleecy padding. However, he had disobeyed them so there were to be consequences. At the time he didn’t quite realise what that meant but now - he couldn’t go anywhere without an adult; TV programmes were monitored so was only able to watch Children’s TV without supervision and bedtime was brought forward by half an hour each time he’d tried to scramble out of his nappy. Although the initial idea hadn’t been to reduce him to act like a toddler the more he protested and squirmed in his padding, the more it all seemed appropriate to deal with him in that way. They’d let him grow up choosing his own path but that had led in the wrong direction, so the pull back, the reining in of his possible self-destructive side, was now down to them. Psychologically, the fact that he was wearing a nappy made it easier for them to treat him as a little boy in need of such instruction. What’s more, with him having restrictions both physical and mental, what they were doing appeared to be getting results. Even after the first day he’d thought it would be over quickly. He couldn’t understand why his parents would want their son to wear something so childish. He felt silly and vulnerable and dreaded anyone knowing anything about it, and yet they seemed perfectly fine with it all. So, when he was put into another nappy, and then another... he was upset but the fit of temper he wanted to unleash was kept firmly in check. Quite simply, now he was wearing a nappy, he found it difficult to fight back against his mum and dad’s fervour. There had been times when he’d checked his drawers to see if his ‘proper’ underwear had returned, only to be saddened at the number of nappies piled there. It didn’t look like this punishment was going to end soon judging by that amount of fleecy cotton. Also, because of the times he’d not told them he was wet, they insisted that, when at home, no shorts. He was furious at that rule but, like everything else, it came to pass. Something else that had crept up on him unaware was that his room now had a faint smell of urine but quite a heavy atmosphere of liniment and baby powder. It was something that, like everything else about this project, brought memories, happy memories, flooding back to mum who was in her element dealing with it all. ~ With each ‘pull back’ by his parents, and the added reaction that had on his entire mental capabilities, he was feeling tense, nervous and had difficulty concentrating, whilst feeling detached from what was happening. At times it felt like it was all happening to someone else and when he felt that way his nappy was perplexingly a comfort, whilst at other times just an irritation. At bedtime his padding was made thicker with booster pads and tougher plastic pants, which in truth his mother thought made him look just too sweet for words. (The photographs she took at such times both when he was awake and asleep bore testimony to this fact). There were times when the plastic cover just held the nappy cushion to perfection and made him look every inch a sweet little toddler. There was no hiding the fact that, with each change (and application of cream and powder), mum was enjoying seeing her boy wearing such an item and loved to see each of his ‘special covers’ mould itself around the padding and produce what she thought was the ideal way Robbie should wear his nappy – glossy and firm. What was even odder was there were also times when she spoke to him as a child and he didn’t react badly or shrug with disdain. Despite claiming not wanting to be treated as a baby her constant reassurance he was a ‘good boy’ was having an effect. He seemed to actually enjoy being complimented and comforted - mum especially always keen to deliver a supportive hug. This was strange because no matter how many times he told himself this shouldn’t be happening, the hugs immediately made things seem better. In the days since she’d put him back into a nappy she’d persuaded herself that because she thought this a good idea AND for his own good, he’d eventually appreciate that fact for himself. As if by some magical spell, even if he didn’t confess his multiple sins, he would acknowledge what was happening and know it was all in his best interest. She was unyielding in her belief that this was for the good (and possible redemption) of their wayward boy. He’d been irresponsible and wanted her good boy back. She repeatedly told herself that by making him wear a nappy, he would understand he was still only a child and under their protection. They knew what was best for him and, quite simply, he looked so adorable wearing one. At each change mum and dad were positive and encouraged him to be happy in HIS nappy. They kept emphasising that it was HIS and that it was because of what he’d done that he was wearing one. They doggedly pursued the notion that if they insisted his nappy wearing was all down to him then he would find it more difficult to blame others. In next to no time, and quite unexpectedly, Claire and Thomas had eroded his independence and made him totally dependent on what they decided. The mouthy pre-teen was, to their surprise, quickly subdued and learned that his way of life depended on wearing his nappy. He may not have been happy-in-a-nappy but what he perceived to be the alternative meant he had little choice. The thing was, so embedded in his thoughts was the brutal ‘THWACK!’ of the strap on his unprotected bum, that mental image alone made him recoil from pushing too hard at the new boundaries - that, together with the fact he still had no idea what exactly he needed to apologise for. Well, actually he did and the unforgivable shame about what he’d done was quite overwhelming so he certainly wasn’t going to confess to THAT. ~ Meanwhile he tried apologising “for everything” but his parents asked him to be specific. He struggled by admitting to some of his lesser crimes, but his parents just smiled and asked him to think again. This of course incensed him, which made him feel angry and argumentative, but to no avail. The restrictions for where he could go and what he could do were quite severe but he didn’t have the conviction or proficiency to combat them. So the nappy stayed and because of that he didn’t want to go anywhere or see anyone. The reality that they’d got him into nappies a lot easier than anticipated increased their desire to make sure he didn’t get out of them again anytime soon. Seeing their son totter around the house wearing such nice thick protection, and him being aware of that fact AND that it was down to ‘something he’d done’, oddly made for a lot less stressed household. His father’s firmness and mother’s equal, but more understanding, approach had befuddled him enough so as not to be sure where he stood. Every time he disputed the need for a nappy as punishment, his reluctance to admit to why he was now wearing one was used against him. “We don’t have to explain anything young man... but keep arguing and see where that gets you. Remember, you brought this on yourself!” This nebulous contention left him mystified and angry but had nothing to fight back with. He couldn’t confess, that would be just too much. He also thought, no he knew, if what he’d done ever got out then his parents would disown him completely. It wasn’t worth even thinking about, the repercussions were too dire to contemplate... he had enough to worry about as it was. As a result, because of his quarrelling, bedtime, with extra thick fabric padding and heavy protective plastic pants, had at one point been 7pm, which for a lad his age was ridiculously early. So, although he wriggled out of them to begin with, pretty soon learned that wasn’t going to happen without significant cost, especially when they quickly returned him to the now permanent cushion of a fleecy nappy, which of course was accompanied by the sweet telltale rustle of plastic pants. Being put to bed, not sent, they made sure he was tucked up nicely and kissed ‘night-night’ so he knew they meant business. They also added the proviso that he wasn’t to get up for any reason and if he did - how did he fancy a six o’clock bedtime? To get to this point there had been several complete family eruptions but all were dealt with by mother’s sympathy and understanding coupled with father’s refusal to change his mind. In fact, Robbie had never known his parents be so difficult to influence. In the past he’d always been able to get his way playing one parent off against the other. Well, so he thought, but of course that wasn’t quite what was happening. His parents had always thought they’d brought him up to be responsible but now they’d seen that error, no matter how temporary or otherwise, of a free rein. They were determined to stop that decent and had decided on this, perhaps controversial, way to alter the circumstances. “We said you’ll wear a nappy all the time and that’s just what we meant,” his mother said with a severity Robbie just wasn’t used to. He shivered at her determination as his own hope that he still had any say in the matter diminished. “We don’t want to baby you but you are still a child and under our care and it appears you need a constant reminder of that fact... and what is more... you know exactly why.” His body radiated a hot guilty flush, his padding seemed to get heavier, and the tell-tale rush of nervous pee into it only confirmed why he now wore a nappy. “Try and remove them again and see what happens,” his father added with touch of malice but of course always added a smile, which could have been interpreted in two ways. THWACK! – the heavy mental guilt trip made him comply. That final threat left Robbie all but feeling what that might be, though grasped it was something he didn’t want to experience. ~ He’d resented early bedtimes but, with the prospect of it being moved to 6:00pm, he gave in, much to his mother’s relief; she didn’t want to fight him she wanted his acceptance of the situation. She took great delight in getting her boy ready and into his thick nighttime nappy. His usual sleepwear of boxers and t-shirt had been replaced by a nice, but very thick, fleecy nappy with extra padding (to help take care of his morning mess) and a t-shirt that was supersoft, which was in a plain pastel colour. So, despite his protests, wriggling and total un-cooperation her determination (and control) was definite about what he would be wearing from that moment on. She made sure that every little interaction, whether good or bad, ended with her pulling him in for a hug. It may not have been what he wanted but confusingly there was no denying a comforting warmth spread through his body (though not necessarily his nappy) whenever it happened. Because of all this, at each change the memory of his babyhood would surface when she’d slipped in a dummy or fed him a bottle of warm milk, such a happy and fulfilling time for her (why couldn’t things be like that again she’d fantasise?). However, that wasn’t the outcome they were searching for. This wasn’t an attempt to baby him (but more and more it did appear to be heading that way by its own volition), it was to make Robbie realise the penalties for his unchecked actions and the culpability he shared in this outcome. Once he’d stopped fighting them on that particular front, he was able to gain a later bedtime and some restricted playtime on his console but that was reliant on his behaviour. Nevertheless, each change of nappy didn’t stop his mother, emotionally at least, reliving those times when he was such a cute and loving little tot. Rubbing in anti-rash cream and sprinkling his naked little genitals with talcum powder, were all such a heady image. She’d covertly capture such moments on her mobile when he wasn’t looking and often when he was asleep – he was one loveable nappied teen when lying there dreaming about who knows what. It was no burden for Claire to be responsible for his nappy changes... wet and messy... she didn’t mind. That was the other thing, he wasn’t allowed to change himself, not that he wanted that job, but his parents insisted that only they were allowed to change his nappies. It made it more personal; they could also keep a check on him and of course it made him totally reliant on them for dry padding. His night time nappy was thicker to cope with everything he was expected to have deposited in it come morning. Claire made sure that his huge, glossy plastic padded bum was the last thing she saw each night as he climbed under the covers. To her the smooth shiny bulk was the epitome of innocence and also a not-so-subtle reminder that he looked very much a pre, pre-teen. “If only...” she’d think. Which would lead to thoughts of him nursing on a warm bottle of milk or happily sucking on a dummy like he had when a toddler. She’d try and ignore these mental images but they were quite strong and very, very pleasing. Sometimes he was grumpy and ‘not in the mood’ for a hug but that didn’t worry her as she’d kiss him affectionately on his forehead and whisper “Goodnight sweetie”. The gentle rustle of his plastic pants against the bed linen as he got himself comfy a delight to her ears. He complained about the mass being too weighty, the plastic pants made him hot and sweaty, which made his nappy damp even when he hadn’t peed in it. However, the truth was that his mother had fitted them perfectly. She’d made it so that his nighttime protection was much thicker with extra padding to soak up any extra ‘flow’ and that his clear or white plastic pants were also much larger and more robust to cover the extra material. She discerned what would work and what wouldn’t and knew that the smooth rounded shape, both front and back, would not only let him know he was well-protected but that a boy, her boy, would be very secure. Of course, he wouldn’t admit to this startling fact but his nappy was indeed annoyingly snug... and begrudgingly there were times when her praise and love was very, very welcome. At his age it was those things he’d been trying to escape from, however, when it came down to it, and it’s constant availability, it was something he quite liked. She was completely in her motherly element as each night she patted and stroked his slinky large plastic bottom when he crawled under the bed covers. The cushiony package filling her nightly with happy mummy-hormones and even happier memories. “Night-night sweetheart... we love you Robbie... never forget that.” She caressed his hair and kissed his forehead. His bed times might have got a little later than when he was being confrontational but they still weren’t overly late. So, even though he was full of resentment and hated the large bulky item fixed around his groin that had that soft swishing sound as he moved, his mother’s words were always positive and loving and it was hard to stay cranky under such circumstances. She’d got him into a loving routine which happily meant all his arguments were forgotten as he fell into a blissful night’s sleep. ~ However, the first time he’d had to crap in his nappy had been the most difficult. On that first day he really wasn’t sure. He’d decided to ‘just get it over with’ so was trying to cope as best he could but also he was twelve and thought there was no way he should be wearing a nappy never mind having to use it. After mum had reapplied his wet one and told him to use it - that was a shock. He’d held off as long as he could and eventually begged his father to let him use the toilet like he had for the past eight years. Dad was resolute that he used his nappy as prescribed and insisted that the boy should just relax and not worry about it. This made no sense to Robbie who was sure it was being done just to humiliate him further. His absolute refusal to shit himself was skewered by the fact that the holiday was fast approaching. His parents had made clear that all future events depended on him carrying out their demands and that meant staying in his padding and using it. So, no matter what he wanted, this was the state of play. However, he had no intention of missing out on the holiday and was still of the opinion that, if not before, when that day arrived then his punishment would cease, and everything would return to normal. Although no nearer acknowledging why he was being punished in such a way, he still felt guilty (very guilty). There was no doubt that with the intensity of his parent’s chastisement he must have crossed a line somewhere, even if he didn’t know how or when. It was all very frustrating and perplexing but didn’t know what he could do to change things. Everything he’d so far tried had ended with a smile and a push back – “You know why you’re wearing a nappy sweetheart”. To do what he was being told to do was the ultimate betrayal of what growing up was all about. How could he forget all the years of going to the toilet easily? It was difficult and of course the reluctance was causing him great pain. His stomach growled as he tried to keep from releasing his smelly load but still dad wouldn’t let him visit the toilet, he had to use the nappy. “Please dad... please let me just go...” “Come here son,” Thomas beckoned him over and hugged the crying boy to his chest and rubbed his back and patted his thick padding. “Just relax and let go.” “I can’t dad honestly I’ve tried,” his sobbing son appealed. “Sshhhhh, don’t cry...” he patted and rubbed his son’s cushioned bum, “We don’t want you to be ill and all that’s in you is going to come out eventually so... let it.” He whispered in the boy’s ear. “Just relax son, just relax and let it happen... I’m here for you but it’s something you need to do...” Tears of incomprehension and total irrationality spun in his head. It didn’t make any sense as to why he needed to perform such a dirty and backward action. It wasn’t right... “But why dad... why?” The sobbingly increased. “Because son from now on that’s how it’s going to be. So, the sooner you do it the sooner we can all move on.” The words were supportive but Thomas wondered if this was really necessary. Claire had said that Robbie needed to know he was wearing a nappy and thought just wearing one wouldn’t quite get the message home. However, a wet and messy nappy made sure he realised that he was being punished. “But dad...” Unfortunately, as his father rubbed his back to console him his resolve ended abruptly with a huge involuntary fart and the back of his nappy began to fill. A loud cry of anguish came from Robbie as he had no alternative but to release the entire load once it started. His body shook as his father held him tightly and offered words of reassurance. “There, there son, that’s better... get it all out and then later we can get you all changed into a fresh one for the rest of the day.” Robbie was crying hard, mortified about what was happening. He couldn’t escape his father’s hug and, in a strange way, being held by his understanding dad was somehow comforting. However, he didn’t take in what had been said as lump after lump of mess pushed into the seat of his already well-soaked nappy. Robbie couldn’t get over what was happening. Surely this couldn’t be what anyone wanted but still his nappy grew messier as the mush continued to fill it. This was the most horrendous thing that had ever happened to him and it wasn’t his fault. His mum and dad had made him do this and yet, as the pain in his stomach lessened, he was grateful for it to be out, though hated where it had ended up. Tears of humiliation, frustration and incomprehension were streaming down his face “Good boy, I’m sure you feel better now. It’s all part of a process... well done.” The plastic pants had expanded but held the contents as his dad stroked the warm bulk that now settled in the seat of his son’s browning terry nappy. Once he was sure he’d finished Thomas patted him reassuringly one more time and left him so he could come to terms with it all. Robbie really didn’t know what to do next; the shame and disgust at what had happened left him paralysed. A lad his age not only having to wear a nappy but messing in it as well hammered away at his once proud self-image. He was reduced to nothing but a toddler, which the tears coursing down his face only went to support. He was totally chastened. The bewildered lad was stunned that he wasn’t immediately changed but his reactions were very strong – shock and revulsion. He was surprised at the weight that dragged at his rear. In fact, it was his tight plastic pants that were holding the entire thing up and, for the moment at least, contained the smell. A few minutes later and still standing in his room, the smell became apparent so, despite loathing each little movement, went in search of mum hoping she’d change him. However, he caught sight of himself in the mirror as he slowly waddled and was nauseated. He could see through the clear plastic pants just how discoloured his nappy had become, how streaked with tears his face was and how totally miserable and juvenile he looked… and it terrified him. He’d become the very thing he was afraid of becoming, a baby. “Ah sweetheart, yes of course I’ll change you but, I’m busy at the moment. Why don’t you go and play in the garden, and I’ll sort you out as soon as I finish what I’m doing.” “Play in the garden?” I’m not a kid thought Robbie. However, his full and increasingly saggy nappy indicated otherwise. Reluctantly (and carefully) he waddled outside, if for no other reason it diluted the smell around him but couldn’t do anything. He dreaded sitting down or mushing the mess against his skin so stood patiently but totally sickened waiting for her to come and sort him out. Whilst waiting he had time to take in the ludicrous situation he found himself. He was angry, frightened, sad and a whole bunch of other emotions were bubbling around in his head. What were his parents playing at? What could he do to change things? But worst of all, was he destined to spend the rest of this inexplicable punishment wearing messy nappies? Again, he tried to pinpoint in his mind just what it was his parents knew that had produced this weird and retrograde step in his advance to becoming a teenager. He was in turmoil; wouldn’t it just be easier to admit to his ‘crime’ and have done but that confession was just too much to contemplate. Then he had a panic attack – what if any of his mates came around now and witnessed his shame? He was twelve he shouldn’t be wearing a nappy and definitely not shit in one but as he thought this, he also remembered that he’d said neither of these things would happen and yet they had. He hadn’t realised just how much his body was shivering. It wasn’t cold, far from it, but his body seemed to be reacting to the situation on its own. He felt vulnerable, that was it, vulnerable and scared and every bit the small child who needed mum or dad to sort things out for him. This was all too much; the emotional strain had been stretched to snapping point... and it had just snapped. Another huge sob wracked his body – why, why, WHY were they making him wear a nappy and worse still use it? What the hell had he done (that they knew about) that made this a punishment that fit any crime? Even the slightest movement reminded him of the grainy sludge he was carrying around. He hoped that now he’d done it he wouldn’t have to anymore. Alas he was wrong. Twenty-five minutes later mum came out with a changing mat and a bunch of other items and laid them out on the sunny lawn and called him over. Cheerfully, and there out in the fresh air, she was going to give him his first messy nappy change since he was three; the first of many she anticipated whilst getting her boy back. Back from what and where was between him and her. He couldn’t understand why she was so pleased he’d just shit himself yet she was full of praise and patted his filled nappy with enthusiasm. “You’re doing very well Robbie.... keep up the good work and who knows?” This had been yet another big test, he’d wet without any encouragement, but this had needed pressure and deprivation to get him to comply. Still, he’d done it now and she was unbelievably proud of him. Quite simply, that might have been down to the fact that she now thought of him as a little kid and, although that wasn’t supposed to be the idea, the thought was happily held in her head. “But mum,” he tried to get his snivelling under control, “this can’t be what you want... I’m, I’m, (hic) not a little baby.” Unfortunately for Robbie, as his mother looked down on him, she didn’t agree. A messy nappy, a tear-streaked face, pleading eyes and needing a mummy’s love to make things better. She wasn’t going to tell him, but yes, that’s just what he was, her baby boy. “Well love, let’s think about it. You’ve been returned to wearing a nappy for a reason...” “Yes, but I don’t know what for...” The frustration and absolute bewilderment at what he’d just done evident in his sad eyes. “I’ve not been told what it is I’ve done.” He sheepishly countered; face creased simply not understanding. “We think you do know,” she gave him a look as if to say, ‘you aren’t fooling anyone’. “Now we think the return to wearing a nappy will give you time to contemplate on the ‘why’ and perhaps, once we see that recognition in you, then things might return to normal... well relatively.” “But this is unfair, why do I have to use these damn things...” He pulled at the messy material, “It doesn’t make any sense...” Even as he said the words he knew that his fate was sealed and the nappies, HIS nappies, were about to become a more permanent fixture than he had anticipated. “Well son, to your father and I this is what you need... a simple and effective reminder of the repercussions for what you’ve been up to. You’ve abused your responsibilities of being grown up so now, as an aide-mémoire, a reminder if you like that you are in fact still a child, our child, you’re back in nappies. Not very subtle I’ll grant you, but we hope it will prove effective.” The need in him to defy all of this, to shout “NO” at the top of his voice, to not just capitulate to his parents demands was brewing. He was agitated about what had happened, he couldn’t understand WHY it had happened and what’s more, even though he had a nappy full of shit, he was determined it wouldn’t happen again. Until that is his brain reminded him... THWACK! Overcome with anger but still worried he bawled, “But I’m twelve... I can’t be a, a, a baby.” He stuttered whilst crying and not for the first time wondered why they were doing this? Could it be that he was growing up too fast? But that was a stupid motive surely they didn’t know his secret... did they? Catching his baby reference Claire said. “But love, we remember the days when you were at your best and it was when you were a toddler and still wearing a nappy. Then you were such a happy and loving little boy; no secrets, no agenda, no...” she thought for a moment and then added “well... let’s just say... we’ve decided what’s for the best.” “But a messy nappy... mum... that can’t be right.” He was unsure how he could put this any clearer because to him it just didn’t make sense. She had some sympathy but there was no doubt that lying there in such a juvenile state, a lot of that brashness and flippant remarks had all but disappeared. What’s more, for the first time in ages he looked helpless and in need of his mummy and daddy... and that’s just what he was going to get. “We’ll see sweetheart, we’ll see. We think you were at your best then and maybe it’s what you need now...mummy and daddy making all the decisions and your return to a time of innocence... but for the moment let’s get you out of this dirty nappy, hmm?” The snivelling continued all the way through the clean-up and change; he was one very unhappy and very mystified twelve-year-old but perhaps weirdly, a fresh clean nappy was a wonderful relief. He was also out in the open, in the middle of the garden, where anyone paying a visit would be able to see. “Mum, please can’t we do this indoors... please?” He begged. “Sweetheart, you must not argue with mummy. She’ll decide where and when your nappy needs checking or changing... not my sweet little...” “Mum, I’m not a baby please don’t...” But his protest were in vain as whilst he closed his eyes and hoped no one else would see him, ‘mummy’, whether he liked her using the term or not, had him cleaned up and changed in just a few moments. “There now,” his mother beamed as she proudly patted the finished item, “doesn’t that feel so much better?” Compared to the dirty, sopping load that had been surrounding his waist, anything would be better. However, a look of incomprehension and disbelief on her son’s face was oddly offset by an unintentional nod of agreement, much to his mother’s approval. “Now then love,” she said tenderly “the secret to avoid wearing a messy nappy is to get into a routine.” Robbie wanted to say that the secret was not to wear one in the first place and just get on with things he’d done since he was three... like get to the toilet on time but he wasn’t given the chance. She saw him about to speak and hushed him into silence. “Now, as we’ve told you we’ll make every effort to change you as soon as we know your nappy needs it but, if you get into a routine then you can more or less be free from constant checks.” She could see he was not happy as she patted the thick padding, an action that was enforcing the fact this was now part of him. There was a slight wriggle as Robbie got used to his fresh underwear and Claire couldn’t get over just how much pleasure she got from seeing his fleecy white nappy and ducky pins through the glossy plastic and the subtle rustle gave an aural aspect to what was before her. As far as she was concerned it was all simply... Perfection. “What I suggest is that in the morning when we change you out of your lovely thick night time nappy that you take the opportunity to fill it before that happens. That way, you’re not carrying any poo around during the day when opportunities to change and clean you up might be a little more difficult.” He looked horrified at the suggestion. “So, we expect our morning changes to be messy but at least it will be out of the way, then, apart from any accidents, which of course we’ll deal with as soon as we can.” “But mum...” “It’s for your own good sweetheart, take my advice or not, it’s your choice but do you really want to be wearing a messy nappy for any longer than you need to?” Robbie wanted to say it was no choice at all, he was being made to act like a toddler but knew that shouting wasn’t going to work. “But mum, I don’t...” “Those are your options sweetheart and it’s up to you whether you follow my advice. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, things won’t change, the nappy stays for all your toilet activities... OK?” “But mum... please... I... I...” “Shhh, shhhh, shhhhh, sweetheart, this is happening so why not make the best of it… who knows… you might just enjoy it.” He was stunned into silence – might just enjoy it... joking right? That was her final words on the subject and although horrified he knew it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. ~ tbc ~

Chapter 23: Christmas Eve Elysium – LittleFallenPrincess ------------------------------- Another month passed by. I still missed walking. Crawling was… fun… but I definitely missed using my legs properly and actually walking around. It was a lot quicker, and a lot less exhausting. I also missed using the potty. Sure, this was like nearly four months into my stay here, and I hadn’t seen, let alone used a potty the whole time. I was used to nappies at this point. Changes still made me blush, but by now it was just routine. Still missed using the potty though. Ugh. Potty. Even my language has been dumbed down here. Potty. Peepee. It was like I really was just an infant learning to talk when saying specific words. Early in December the Nannies got all excited, as one day we got wheeled into the playroom and suddenly everything looked very… festive. I used to be a very festive person… but when I lost my Mum… the magic of Christmas just kinda went with her. I’ve mostly just endured Christmas since, putting on my fakest smile so I didn’t ruin everyone else’s Christmases. So when they said we’d be celebrating it in here… I put on that same fake smile and went along with it. Apparently we’ll all be wearing festive baby clothes throughout the month, hence why I’ve worn a ridiculous amount of red and green onesies whilst crawling around the playroom. We’re also doing a Secret Santa thing, but we haven’t been given any details about it until today… and we’re already halfway through the month! Christmas age-appropriate movies on the TV, Christmas music coming from the speakers all day long… Everyone else seemed to love it… everyone except me. Even Jack and his goons were enjoying it, they seemed cheerier than usual, having moved out of the play gym area finally… and moving back into the boy’s only section. They quickly established that as their own private area, and have never once come out into the main playroom… which I am one thousand percent okay with. Especially as it meant we could finally get a turn with the centre of the playroom. They did seem to be following the rules a bit more, actually engaging with the program or treatment or whatever you want to call it. I even saw them colouring in some times. Though never with us, always by themselves. I don’t know what the Nannies did to scare them into obedience, but it was working, whatever it was. Because it seemed like it was just… overnight. Such a drastic change made me wonder if they had played with their mind or something… which was scary. But at the same time, I was just glad they weren’t expected to play with us, because right now… I don’t want anything to do with those morons. Everything got cheerier… happier… Everyone had accepted their place here. Everyone knew there was no chance at escape, it had been nearly four months now… and there was no gap in their security. Especially not when the Nannies could probably bench press a car. Everyone was enjoying this festive time. Especially Ollie and Ella. Both of them were feeling really festive, really getting into the Christmas spirit. Both of them… being really distant with me since Ella’s birthday. Ella and I still talked a lot during the day, trying our best to talk in sign so I could get better at it. Nanny Vesta moved my daily lesson to just before our afternoon nap, and Ella joined us. But the whole time… Ella seemed… distant. Like she didn’t want to get too close to me. Like she was scared of me. Well, not of me… but of getting too attached to me. We were still close friends, but we hadn’t touched since her birthday and I felt a little… rejected. Ollie was even worse. He has been so distant with me it’s like he’s on another planet. He’s friendly enough, but he talks to me like we aren’t close friends, often keeping his distance, often focusing his attention on Rowan or the girls rather than me. I know that really I should confront both of them, I should discuss this with them both and find the root of the problem and try to fix it. It’s probably a simple fix too, or a simple discussion. But there’s no way I can confront them. And they aren’t bothering to talk to me… so I’ve just been kinda… distant to everyone the past month. Doesn’t help that all this Christmas bullshit is making me feel even more lonely. “So, Noah… You’ve got Jack for Secret Santa,” Ceres said, in my nursery, with just the two of us here. The Nannies had taken each person throughout the day, taken them to their nurseries, and discussed what possible gift we would like to give for Secret Santa. At least I assume that’s why everyone left, as no one talked about it when they returned, and I only realised when Ceres brought me in here and told me this. “Really?” I whined. “Don’t sound too happy about it…” All I could do at that point was sigh. “You know what he’s done, right? And now I have to get him a fucking gift?” “Language. And yes. Because it’s Christmas.” “Christmas fucking sucks.” Oops. Seems as if my bad mood may have just earned me my first punishment in here… “Sweetie… you know you’re not allowed bad language in here. I’ll let you-” My anger and frustration with everything going on in the past month, along with my feelings about this time of year all culminated in one big outburst. “WHY? WHATS THE FUCKING POINT?” Ceres’ eyebrow quickly raised. And I knew I was in trouble. I could barely sit down. I had never been spanked like that before. To be honest… I don’t think I had ever been spanked before. Like… at all. And after apologising profusely, tears and snot covering my face, I planned to never earn another one again. She had thrown me over her lap so quickly, I barely had any time to react, as she pulled down my soggy nappy, exposing my bare arse, and she quickly gave me ten swats on each cheek. I was crying by swat number three. “Are you going to stop swearing, Noah?” she said as she held my arms, with me just standing there with my nappy hastily pulled back up. “Y… yes… s… s… sorry…” I mumbled, all the while sobbing my eyes out, wiping away the snot from my face. “Sorry what?” “S… sorry Nanny…” “Good boy. Now, can we discuss what we’re going to get Jack for Secret Santa like grown ups, I do I have to regress you further?” “There… there’s further than… this?” “Oh sweetie… of course there is. How do you think Jack and the others started to behave?” Shit. How? When? Like… if it got them in line… it must be bad, right? Surely she wouldn’t stoop to those measures… not when I’m good most of the time? This was just a one time outburst. Either way… I’ll definitely be watching my language from now on. In the end, I asked them to get Jack a remote control car from me. Sadly, because of the age we were currently at, or at least being treated as, it meant that the car was rather… babyish. It wasn’t one of those cool ones I had always wanted as a kid. But I think he’ll still appreciate it. It’s better than a teddy bear or a colouring book, especially when I don’t even know him very well. Shortly after picking out my gift, there was a knock at the door. “Hey Ceres…” it was Minerva… holding Ollie in her arms, his legs wrapped around her waist just like a baby. “Oh hey… what’s up?” “It’s nearly feeding time, and it’s Ollie’s turn to pick out a gift for Secret Santa. Figured I’d bring him in, you done with Noah?” “Yeah. Had a little… outburst… from him, but he’s decided.” I felt guilty as the two talked about me as if I wasn’t there. And the pain radiating from my backside still reminded me of my little ‘outburst’. “Want me to take him while Ollie picks?” Minerva suggested. “Nah, it’s okay. Noah can stay. Ollie didn’t get him for Secret Santa, so I’ll just let Noah rest in the crib for a while until I feed them.” “You sure? I better go get my two, no doubt they’re up to all sorts of mischief…” “I’m sure. You go feed your two.” “Talk to you later! And Noah? Be a good boy for Ceres, okay?” I nodded at Minerva, who quickly walked out the door, smiling at me. “You could get her a teddy bear?” Ceres suggested to my nursery-mate. “I guess…” Ollie replied to our Nanny, who was clearly getting fed up with Ollie’s indecision. They had been looking for a good twenty minutes now, and Ceres had suggested lots of good gifts Ollie could get for Ella, but Ollie couldn’t decide on a single one. Teddy bears, onesies, toys, colouring books… Ollie wasn’t sure what to get her. It wasn’t like he needed it to be special either, he didn’t care that much if it was special to her or not, he just wasn’t very good at deciding. Apparently he’s ‘terrible at getting presents for people’, which is clearly true. I had been watching from the crib the whole time, and it was annoying me just how indecisive he is. Like… I’m bad… but Ella… Ella was easy to get for in comparison to Jack. “Noah…” Ollie whined, finally talking to me like he used to before Ella’s birthday. “What do I get that girl? You know her best.” “Is there anything unicorn themed in there?” I asked, as I only got to see the boy’s section. “Why? Does she like unicorns?” “Didn’t you see what I got her for her birthday? Yes, she likes unicorns…” I replied, rolling my eyes at the clueless boy. “There’s… unicorn socks?” “Anything else?” “A unicorn stuffed animal? It’s pink.” “Perfect.” “Thanks mate…” I hated being called ‘mate’. Same with ‘dude’. Despite what everyone says… it’s such a masculine term. There’s nothing ‘gender neutral’ about it when it’s used by a guy. So as the words passed his lips, my whole body began to shiver. And not in a good way. “It’s… okay,” I replied, trying to pretend it didn’t bother me. He smiled up at me, and for the first time… it felt like he actually saw me as a friend again. So I returned the smile back. “Nanny?” he asked, turning to Ceres. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Can I sleep in Noah’s crib again tonight?” “Sure!” Even Ceres was taken a little aback by this. But I think she was as happy as I was about this development. Okay… so things improved with Ollie in the run up to Christmas at least. We were back to being close again, he was sleeping in my crib every other night, and he barely left my side in the playroom. Even the others commented about how awkward it was recently, but Ollie just shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Ella though… she wasn’t any closer, despite our lessons and everything. She still kept herself emotionally distant from me. Which suuuuucked. It was afternoon playtime in the playroom, on Christmas Eve. We had already been fed and had our naps, and we were settled down, ready to go back to our nurseries to sleep soon so that ‘Santa’ could deliver our presents. I mean… despite how we’re dressed, we’re still grown adults, none of us have believed in Father Christmas or Santa Claus in like two decades nearly. And then there’s the fact we’re doing a secret Santa thing… but apparently the Nannies want to ‘keep the magic’ or whatever. So as we sat there, all snuggled up in the bean bag chairs, watching a Christmas movie I remember from my childhood, I looked around to find both Ella and Ollie gone. “Where… where did they go?” I asked. “You zoned out again hun?” Ava asked, giggling slightly. “Ceres took Ollie for a change, and Ella went off with her Nanny to talk about something. No idea what though.” “I…” I think Ava is right, I must have zoned out during the movie because I don’t remember either of them getting taken. “I must have.” “D’awww… you worried about your girlfriend and boyfriend?” “I… what? No! They’re not…” Jess and Sophia leaned forward a bit. I think it was mostly Sophia doing the leaning, but because those two were practically joined at the hip, Jess kinda got brought along for the ride. “Hun… we’re not stupid. We’ve all seen the way you look at them. And we’ve seen the way all three of them look at you.” “I… no… wait… what? Three?” “What my very not-so-subtle girlfriend is saying, is that you seem to have three admirers…” Jess said, rolling her eyes at Sophia. “Three? Who… who’s the third?” I asked, confused. They both started giggling. But I genuinely had no idea who they were talking about. Unless… they mean… I mean… I know the old thing parents used to say… that boys would tease and bully girls they like… but I’m not… I’m… I’m a boy in here. Jack wouldn’t be interested in me… Unless… “Your Nanny…” Maria threw her voice into the conversation, though by the sound of it, and the sigh that followed, she couldn’t be bothered with any of it and just wanted it to be over. “Ceres? Wait… since when?” “Since always. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. None of our Nannies are like that with us. With the exception of maybe Juno with Jess and Sophia…” “Hey! We’re just extremely well behaved and she likes how cute we are together,” Jess then rolled her eyes at Maria. “Whatever. Anyway, yes…” Maria huffed, ignoring that last comment, and focusing her attention back on me, “Ceres clearly likes you. More than she lets on.” I… I didn’t know what to say. What to do. It was bad enough having two people liking me, all of us being too awkward to initiate anything… but to have three people liking me… What the hell do I do with this information? ====================================================== Ruh roh. Love quadrangle! Don't forget I'm on Subscribestar! Subscribers get 2 weeks early access to chapters, and exclusive short stories (Nessa's Tale is currently the only available one). The next four chapters of my new story posted on my Subscribestar! ======================================================== I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! If you want to read the next 4 chapters, thanks to two weeks early access to my main story and also soon-to-be exclusive access to short stories (or even have a chance at commissioning one when I add the tier for them!), why don't you check out my SubscribeStar! The basic tier gets early access and exclusive access to short stories (when they're written), higher tiers will be limited but get a short story each month (1-2 per month in total, also not yet running this tier yet, will announce when I'm starting!). Thank you to all my subscribers for their support over the past few years! Seriously, your support means the world to me. New chapters of my latest story every Wednesday/Sunday! Also just a quick note: I don't mind people saving this story for personal reading. But I'd appreciate it if people didn't post it elsewhere, even if you're just suggesting it to other people. If you want to show others, please send them a link to the first page of this post! Thanks! I said I put a lot of myself into this... and his way of thinking was very much how I started off. Now, like 8+ years into my transition, I agree with you, but back, well over 10 years ago... I thought I could put it off and off, until I nearly broke. When I say I put a lot of myself into this story, I really mean it Awww I'm sorry the monster series wasn't for you, but I'm glad you're enjoying this one! I don't know if you caught up with the non-monster ones I've written in between, but check them out if you haven't already.

If our crazy tangerine president wants to run for a third term, in violation of the 22nd Amendment, then I'd vote for you, @Little Sherri, Canadian citizenship notwithstanding!

I should probably just stay quiet, because these things never end well. But I will attempt to make a couple of points. Have you ever looked at what the economic indicators were in the 1990's under Clinton? The US was doing pretty well. I know this is a popular talking point, but seriously, look at the numbers. And there have been plenty of good times since, from an economic standpoint. The USMCA agreement surpassed NAFTA, and was signed by Trump himself during his last administration. He called it a great deal at the time. It was still in effect, until he decided to violate it himself with new tariffs The number of cars made in Canada about equals the number of cars purchased by Canadians, we just don't buy the same cars we make, all the time, and neither do Americans. So, rather than having to have, say, a Chevrolet Equinox plant in the US, and also one in Canada, they might build the Equinox's in Canada, and build, say, the Chevy Traverse in the US, and then send them back and forth. Which we can't do anymore, unless everyone wants to pay 25% more for them. Trump wants all cars to be built in the US, but that won't pan out - we'll buy more of them from Europe and Japan and Korea. People don't tend to buy from countries that are punching them in the face every day. Witness Tesla's freefall. The US is primarily a service and a technology economy - they make big bucks selling Microsoft licenses and Boeing aircraft to the world, and they buy the raw aluminum at a decimal point fraction of what it becomes worth when you turn it into a 737. However, punitively tariff the people selling you the aluminum, and they tend to shop elsewhere for their planes. Europe, for example - Airbus also makes nice planes. The US's economic supremacy is very service based - again, Microsoft licenses, engineering, medical technologies, intellectual property, credit cards, finance, tech companies. Their GDP per capita is the envy of the world - the problem they have is that it isn't distributed very equitably. So you have billionaires (such as the President and his friends) who made all the decisions regarding offshoring manufacturing, because it generated huge profits, now saying they are going to fix the problem, and blaming other nations for "stealing" the jobs. And the people at the ground level, who feel they don't benefit from "globalism", aren't going to benefit from this, either - the idea that these billionaires are now aligned with Mr. and Mrs. Common Person is wishful thinking. They want to slash public services, slash taxes, and increase their share of the nation's wealth. They are salivating over the current situation. They are not your friends - never have been, never will be. If iPhones and diapers and mop buckets can only be made in the US, prepare for $3700 iPhones and diapers that are $12 each and mop buckets that cost $40, because with no global competition allowed, do you think prices will go down? This will beget a massive recession and wealth transfer, and the people engineering it will say, "Hold on, good times are just around the corner", until they've taken all that they can take from the system, then they will walk away and live in palaces in gated communities, and not use the public services that they've decimated. Their factories will be staffed by robots and AI, which will be the new "offshoring", not proud Americans making $50 an hour, who can now afford $12 diapers and $3700 iPhones, because they pay no taxes What amazes me is these free-market economic purists, who say capitalism, like Darwinism, always favours the fittest, if we could only get the government out of the way, now saying they want the government taxing literally everything, in huge amounts. This is going to blow up before it blows over, with a standoff between the executive branch, and a bunch of newly-elected Democrat congresspeople and senators, as a once-great nation staggers into a depression, taking the world with it, during the midterms in 2026. Trump isn't a genius - all these things have been tried before. There have been 25% interest rates, runaway inflation, and massive tariffs before, and there were corresponding depressions and recessions. He's just not a student of history. He is fixated on being the center of the universe, the only thing everyone can talk about, even if the universe is crumbling around him. Even if this is indeed the great cure to what "ales" America - the richest nation on earth, BTW, so from an outsider's perspective, not exactly on its deathbed, with the economy booming until a couple of months ago - but, even if this eventually "fixes" all the problems, it's going to take a generation to work itself out. Good times are not just around the corner. People are going to suffer first, as much in the US as elsewhere. But not the billionaires who begat this - rather, the people who voted for them.

This is good news for people in the US, although @OddlyEnough raises a good point - these supply chains have been so integrated, for so long, that it won't be like throwing a switch, getting all of these materials locally. Input costs will definitely go up. And I would point out that, absent any competition, one of the fundamental tenets of free-market economics, the alter of which so many current leaders claim to worships at, is that prices will go up. The competition now costs 100% more. Buckle up.

Even if the diapers are made here, the materials are from overseas. So, yeah, they'll cost more.

Sadly, Most are made in, you guessed it.. China. I fully expect the price of diapers to skyrocket. And we all know who to thank for that, "He who shall not be named" and I don't mean Voldemort. Most of what's made here is is less than sub par. And even most of our products are only "Headquartered" in the US, but manufactured outside the US. Quality isn't something most US manufacturers are interested in, its the almighty $. We Preach "Made in the USA", but quite frankly most of the worst made crap I've bought was made here, Not overseas.

Part 11: Plateau Chapter 124: Spoiled Janet cut the engine to her car and sighed relief. The trip was over. The weekend was just begun. Unification was less than twenty-four hours, but being trapped in a moving box was done. Everyone could have their own space. Everyone except me, that is, but I’d grown used to the constant monitoring. Life as a Little was already a panopticon. Adoption just made it so that there were periods of time where you were the only cell being monitored. “Alright,” Janet’s mother groaned and opened up her door. “Let’s get settled in, right Pop Pop?” Her father chuckled. “That’s right Nana. I’ll get the bags.” I nibbled on my tongue to keep from flinching. I was going to be hearing those two words a lot over the next several days no doubt. It’s a good thing Janet didn’t snatch me up while she was still married. I don’t know that I could have withstood the feedback loop of two Amazons pumping up one another’s crazy for such a prolonged period of time. Half the reason I was able to get away with calling Janet by her proper name as much as I did was because she didn’t have a collaborator constantly reinforcing her as ‘Mommy’. Helen got out and stretched her arms to the garage ceiling. Bill exited and slid around to the trunk. Janet popped said trunk, and as had become familiar, circled over to me. “I don’t mind getting Clark out,” Janet’s mom offered. Okay, it was more of a hint. She might as well have been looking at Janet’s dessert and asked if she were getting full. Janet didn’t take the hint. “No thanks, Mom,” she replied. “Clark’s used to me getting him out of his carseat.” She opened the door, leaned in and released me from my restraints. “Come to think of it,” she said, “I think I’m the only one that’s ever put him in or taken him out of his car seat.” “Oh…” her mother said with all the sad disillusionment of a child learning they could not fly if they jumped off the roof and flapped their arms hard enough, “Routine is important.” I kept my mouth shut so hard that my teeth were grinding themselves into powder. Jessica had carted me around too, but there was no reason ‘Nana’ had to know that. Janet carried me up the garage steps and held the door open for her parents. Her father tugged and jostled the tremendous suitcase, while her mother opted to grab the extra bag that had been shoved beneath my dangling legs. “Do you want me to get Clark’s buggy thing out of the trunk, Pookie?” her father called. Janet’s eye twitched so subtly that I almost didn’t notice it despite being close enough to bite her. Someone didn’t like her childhood nickname, especially now that I knew it’s origin. “No thanks, Daddy. I don’t use the stroller often enough. Maybe it’ll get more use in toy form.” She bobbed me slightly like it was a hint. “We should take a walk this weekend,” Janet’s mom said coming through the door. “It’d be like old times as a family. You, me, your father, and a stroller.” “Only this time,” Janet interjected, “There’ll be a new baby in the stroller!” She nuzzled me gently and I couldn’t help but make a face like I’d just had mildew shoved into my mouth. “Thaaaat’s right,” Janet’s mother agreed, “One we don’t have to worry about growing up!” I suffered one final cheek pinch before she went through the damn door. The thought came to me then: Was Janet really such a late bloomer or were her parents just so baby crazy that they delayed and sabotaged her for as long as they could get away with? Zoge seemed more than content having a biological daughter who would never get past toddlerhood. What did that say about my students and their parents? The first time I’d almost been abducted, it was because an Amazon still wanted to have a baby around the house as soon as I’d gotten her kid ready for Kindergarten. How…typical. Her father was lightly huffing, lugging his suitcase. “Thank you, Pookie.” “Welcome,” Janet chirped. “Want some help?” “No thanks. I got it.” He grunted and lugged it up and over the threshold. “It was harder getting it unstuck is all. Now it’s easy street.” Janet closed the door and we watched as her parents walked deeper into the house. “Guest room where it was last time?” her dad asked. Janet followed behind a few steps into the living room. “No, that’s Clark’s room now. You’re looking for the office. I can show you if you want-” “No, I got it,” her Dad said. “I’ll just look for the room that’s got the bed without bars,” he chuckled, to himself, and kept walking. Janet seemed comfortable enough letting her father explore and slowed. More likely was that her mother yet lingered, examining with an intensity just short of drill sergeant, her mother slow rolled through the kitchen and the living room. She didn’t touch anything, but her eyes scanned all. “No baby gates,” she noted. “I don’t see a playpen, or baby gym, either.” This woman just did not have an off switch. She was my father-in-law but with childcare instead of do-it-yourself carpentry and alcohol. Janet pointed to the nigh abandoned obstacle course box. “We’ve got one in the cor-” “I’m guessing you do a lot of lap time?” Her mother brightened. Janet perked up immediately. “We do!” Janet said. “He’s a real cuddle bug.” “Thought so,” her mother commented. “Does he watch television or play on the floor?” “Sometimes, yes.” “But no playmat so his knees don’t get worn out crawling on the floor?” Janet froze. “We didn’t get one at the baby shower and it didn’t seem practical,” she said. “Good,” her mother said, oddly satisfied. “Good?” Janet and I said in unison. “I noticed the socket plugs and drawer latches so he doesn’t hurt himself trying to get things for himself,” the older Amazon reported. “But you’re still giving him a good combination of freedom to explore and personalized attention. I’m proud of you, baby girl.” It wasn’t the first time today she’d been praised like this, but Janet reacted like a camel being offered water. “Thank you?” Her mother shook her head, but kept smiling. “Really, sweetie. Take the compliment. I’m proud of you.” “Why is it a good thing we don’t have a playmat?” Helen Foster beamed. “Be right back.” She practically skipped off after his husband. “Is this normally what Unification is like in your family?” I whispered. “Kind of,” Janet whispered back. “Mom normally goes through the fridge and pantry and starts making a grocery list for the feast. Dad plops down and watches football.” “What’s going on now?” I asked. “No clue,” Janet answered. “They’re up to something.” We didn’t have to wait long to find out. The pair came back out to the living room not two minutes later. Her dad had a rainbow colored blanket tucked under his arm, with the surface divided up into different colored squares. It almost looked like a two dimensional rendering of an unsolved Rubix cube. It had a slicker sheen compared to the cottony softness of a proper blanket, but still wrinkled and furrowed from the pressure of the man’s grip. Her mom carried two rectangular gift wrapped boxes, the smaller one stacked on top of the larger. “This one is from your Nana,” her dad said to me. He unfolded it once and doubled the surface area. Then again. And again. And again. It was an infinite newspaper that doubled over on it self and folded out of his direct control. “Just a second,” he grumbled, shaking it like an over starched bedsheet. It laid it on the ground in front of the television. The factory made creases were barely visible when it was all laid out. “Every baby should have a space that’s for them,” her mother said. “Keep them safe and make them feel welcome, and it still be theirs. It’s his house too!” “Oooooh,” Janet said, clearly relieved. “That’s why you were glad he didn’t have a mat or a playpen!” “Can’t spoil my grand baby if I get him something he already has,” she said, smugly. She was proud of herself and in no way attempting to hide it. “Give it a try.” Janet took me off her hip and lowered me down by the armpits onto the thin padded mat. My bare feet touched the bright patchwork pattern and my weight settled. “It’s…” I stopped and couldn’t help but marvel at it. “Oh…” The mat couldn't have been three millimeters thick unfurled as it was. Somehow, it was the softest and most forgiving thing. I’d ever been on. It was better than my old bed. I felt aches in my feet that I didn’t know I had start to vanish. The fibers in the foam pushed back in equal measure to the weight I was pressing down on. “Oh…oh wow…” I took a knee and felt the same sensation massaging my legs back in turn. “Wow…” From a purely tactile standpoint, this was literally the most comfortable I could ever remember being in my whole life. I felt the half-slick half-stick of vinyl on my bear skin, but cushioning made me feel weightless. “I think he likes it, Nana,” the older man chuckled. “He should,” his wife said back. “With as much as that cost, I’d hope so.” “Yeah, we might have to delay our retirement by a year with how much this thing was.” “Mom! Dad!” Janet gasped. “You didn’t!” “Your father’s just being dramatic, dear.” Speaking of dramatic, I stood up to my feet, took a breath and dove straight forward into the center, belly flopping with a sickening thud. “Clark!” Janet said. “Are you alright?” “Mmmhmmm,” I buzzed between my lips. Even kissing this thing felt good. “He’s fine, Pookie.” Her dad said. “That mat is the safest spot in the house. I could powerbomb him onto that thing and he wouldn’t get a bruise.” It was true. If not for the texture beneath me I might think I was floating. I rolled over onto my back, and closed my eyes. It would be very easy for a Little to get used to this type of comfort. The world outside the thin cushioned square would seem so much harder and harsher in comparison. I was as reluctant to get up and walk around as if the perfect cat had curled up on my chest and started purring. I could nap here. I could play here. I could stay here. If only I had my tablet, I could be so bold as to lay on here and tinker all day. Tablet! I stopped breathing and forced myself to rise. I looked up at Janet and about faced, toddled in the opposite direction. The soles of my feet screamed at me upon stepping off, but I persevered. The car ride was over, but I was still putting on a show. “Thank you Nana,” I said, wrapping my arms around the woman’s legs and burying my head into her thighs. “I really like your gift.” It hurt to say because it was true. Such marvels the Amazons created. If only they came in ‘adult’. “You’re welcome, baby boy,” she said. The air whooshed by me in an instant and I opened my eyes to find myself resting on her hip. As long as she didn’t tickle me. I was carried away to the couch and sat down. The other two giants migrated towards me, and loomed, Janet to the left of her mother, and her father to the right. I was surrounded and scrutinized on a couch cushion stage. This was my baby shower all over again. “This next present is from your Pop Pop,” the Foster family matriarch said. She handed me the larger of the two gift wrapped boxes. The paper was baby blue with repeating storks carrying bundles dotting it in even geometrically precise spacing. “It’s very special.” “It’s not as fancy as the playmat,” her dad explained, “but I hope you’ll like it anyways.” “I’m sure he will, Dad.” Yup. Still performing. Gift giving as a ritual was often more about the gift giver feeling appreciated than the gift itself. Especially gifts from Grown-Ups to perceived children. I poked at the box and felt the give. Thin cardboard. I’d heard no rattling inside. This was clothing of some kind. “What is it?” “Go ahead and open it,” Janet said. “Find out.” “Yeah, you can do it Clarky boy,” her father encouraged. “Rip it up!” My so called Nana eyed me hungrily. “Or I can hel-” I ripped into the thin paper as if it were fall of the bone baby back ribs, and threw off the plain white box top as if I were a lion gutting its kill. “Never mind!” They all laughed at that one. With the gifted clothing still concealed behind a thin line of white tissue paper, I braced myself and readied to mask my emotions. I’d already had sailor suits, onesies with embarrassing slogans, and shortalls with cutesy decorations so there was no hope of passing as anything older than two foisted upon me. The onesie I was presently wearing was an infantilized mockery of my old wardrobe. Short of the sort of dress that Ivy might wear and the mandate that for as long as they were in town I would have to play the part of their granddaughter, I couldn’t imagine worse. I was correct and happy for it. Beyond the dead paper lay a flood of red, black, and gold. Sports jerseys, hockey, football, baseball, and basketball were folded inside. Some loose fitting shorts, too. All were a bloody crimson with black trim, on them a noble lion emblazoned in gold somewhere on the chest staring seriously forward. It wasn’t my goofy dead eyed lion with it’s vacant stitched on smile, of course, but it was still a very good mascot. “The Leos?” I read the team name off one of the many jerseys. “University of Nemeanna Leos,” Bill puffed out his chest. “My old Alma Mater.” He waggled his finger. “You uh…”I looked over the inventory, “Got me a little bit of everything.” I smiled as best as I could. Clothing was rarely the most exciting gift for me, especially when I was a kid the first time around. It was easy to fake the manners. “Thank you, Pop Pop!” “That’s just the first part of your present, Clarky boy. The second part is a promise.” I didn’t ask what. Didn’t have to. “I’ve got season tickets to just about every home game for every big sport,” he said. “Whenever you and your Mommy come and visit Nana and Pop Pop, we’ll have us a boys’ day out and watch a game. I got a matching outfit for every one of those, so we’ll be rolling in style, kiddo.” Janet indicated a sporty looking polyester shirt and matching pants that was second from bottom. “Even the male cheerleader outfit, Daddy?” “Ahhhh, no.” her dad fiddled with his hand on top of his head. “Your mother made me put that one in, Pookie.” “I think Clark would look very cute,” Helen said, “dressed up and helping the real cheerleaders from the stands.” My tongue worked around the back of my teeth, trying to muster some form of sincerity. I wasn’t going to be visiting. But the old guy just met me and wanted to spend time with me sharing his favorite past times. In some ways that was just as impressive as any of the gadgets. “Thank you Pop Pop.” It was easier to smile that time. “Dad,” Janet interrupted, “how are you going to do a boys’ day out if you’re not changing diapers?” Realization flashed on his face. “I…did not think about that.” A splash of color painted itself on his cheeks as he said, “Maybe one of you girls could tag along.” “You don’t wanna spend time with just me, Pop Pop?” My eyes became big and mournful. “Just because I’m a baby?” Janet was resting her chin on her hand, her fingers fanning out over her lips, forcing herself to look away lest she bust out laughing. She knew what I was doing. “No…uh…Clark..it’s…it’s-it’s it’s not that. It’s just that…” “If Mommy and Nana are gone,” I pretended to choke up, “am I gonna have to sit in my mess until they get back?” Both giantesses smirked and drilled holes into the man’s skull using only their gaze. “Yeah, Pop Pop,” Janet said. “Is he?” “Do you not know how?” my voice cracked. “Is that it?” “Yeah, Bill,” his wife drilled into him. “Is that it? Are you a slow learner?” I didn’t think the man could get pinker. Outside I was fighting back tears. Inside I was cackling. That’ll teach him to pull the old fart joke on me. “I’m sorry, Pop Pop,” I said. “I didn’t mean to. I can’t help it. I try to be big like you, but I ca-” “What I meant to say is that uh…” he took off his hat and mopped his brow with it, fighting against his own stubbornness and embarrassment in the moment. “What I meant to say is that I’m not changing any diapers here! I’m on vacation, you know.” No one interrupted him, leaving him to drown in his own quiet. “Buuuuut…when you two come visit us, I guess it’d be your vacation. So yeah, Clark. I’ll pack a diaper bag.” Any looming waterworks were turned off. Proportional revenge complete. “I’m holding you to that, Bill,” Janet’s mother said. “As long as I can get it in Leo colors, I’ll be fine,” he replied. Then to me he said, “keep digging Clarky boy, there’s one you missed.” I piled Little sized jerseys daintily one on top of the other in the reverse order that they’d revealed themselves. Down at the bottom of the clothes’ box was one final shirt. It was the same red, black, and gold design as its predecessors but its colors were worn and faded. I dug in with both hands and unfurled it. The thing blanketed me; practically a circus tent. “Dad,” Janet gasped. “Is that what I think it is?” “Mhm,” he said. “Lemme show you, something.” He reached over and gently took it from my grasp. I gave it up without resistance. It’d have been difficult to read without him holding the thing for me. He turned it around so that I could read the back. “Foster,” I read aloud. “Number forty-eight.” “Pop Pop’s old football jersey from when he was in college,” he proudly said. “For you, bud.” Janet was beside herself with surprise. “Dad, you never take that thing out of its case!” “Not true,” he said. “It’s the first shirt you ever wore. Soon as we got you home from the hospital. I got the baby pictures to prove it.” Now it was Janet’s turn to fight back tears; the difference being she wasn’t faking it. This dumb shirt from the guy’s glory days gone past really meant something to him. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Seemed right. I don’t got any heirlooms or whatever that a kid would want. Figured maybe he could use it as a sleep shirt or something. You did.” “You’re not dying or anything are you?” “Ha!” he bellowed. “Pookie, I just made our Little rugrat a promise to take him to a game and pack a diaper bag. I gotta live forever if I’m gonna make that sacrifice worth it.” “Oh,” Janet laughed to herself, embarrassed. “Yeah.” She regained her composure. “Clark, say thank you.” This was not a request. Even I could read the room well enough to know there are some buttons left unpushed. Also, I’d never gotten an heirloom before. Sometimes it really is the thought that counts. “Thank you, Pop Pop! I love it!” He put the old worn jersey back in the box with care normally reserved for holy artifiacts. “You’re welcome, kiddo. And I love you too.” Janet’s mom took charge again. “This last present is from both of us,” she handed me the smallest gift. It was wrapped identically, but the case beneath was stiffer and had less give. She said to Janet, “It’s technically for Clark, but it might be a present for you too, dear.” “Probably should have let him open up this one, first,” her dad said. “But it’s kind of nice in a practical sort of way.” I tore open the wrapping paper carelessly tossing it aside, curious to see what next oddly thoughtful or convenient gift had been bestowed to me from the pair of doting would-be grandparents. My disappointment and horror showed only in my faint reflection thanks to my placing the ‘gift’ directly in front of my face. It was a DVD case, still wrapped and vacuum sealed. It sparkled in tinfoil silver. The cover was two lightly stenciled children, one girl and one boy, wearing simple pastel colored t-shirts, pink and blue respectively. They were barefoot but wore plain white panties and briefs. Yet when I tilted the case just so, the holographic cover changed. The girl and boy looked less chubby, their limbs slightly longer. Their t-shirts sized down with them, but the outline of their underwear remained the same, seeming much puffier by comparison. The frills on the waistline of the girl’s panties and the front fold panel on the boy’s briefs disappeared, each replaced with the tiny rectangles on either side representing diaper tapes. And just as quickly, moving it changed it once more. Littles in diapers turned into Amazon toddlers in undies and back again. The title at the top, changed similarly. Look at it dead on and it was “Potty Time: No More Diapers!” Tilt your head less than an inch and it was “Potty Time? No! More Diapers!” A hypno-cartoon. Three guesses to what watching it did. The first two don’t count. I slammed the door shut on any and all emotions and made my mask up. “Here, Mommy,” I said. “It’s for you.” “We know some Littles have a hard time accepting their diapers,” Janet’s Mom spoke over my muted horror. “This video is supposed to help with that.” “Yeah, it’s a potty training video,” her dad said, placing his hat back on his head. “Teaches kids all about using the potty and lets them decide if they’re ready for it, y’know.” Janet’s expression became identical to my own. “Mhm,” she said. “That’s what it says on the back.” “One of our neighbors recommended it,“ her mother went on. “He’s got three Little girls. We were there when he adopted the third. She was so fussy for that first week, but then she started getting better.” Bill tagged in. “Says he just plopped the tots down in front of the screen for an hour every day, and before he knew it, they were singing the songs and laughing like nobody’s business. No more fuss about being big girls.” Janet cracked open the case and turned it over in the way one might examine a weapon. “It’s double sided.” “Yeah,” her father nodded, oblivious to Janet’s quiet panic and outrage once more. “One for the Littles, one for regular kids. Same basic story or whatever, but different characters. Kids like to see characters that look like them, you know?” Were they really so basic? So willfully ignorant? So…so…typical? Evidently, yes. “That way parents with Littles and Amazon children can show them each a cartoon that will help them decide if they’re ready for the big kid potty or not,” her mother concluded. “Let them each develop and mature at their own pace.” Knowingly or not, what she really meant was that the video could be used to actually help potty train children, while mindfucking Littles into liking their forced infantilizations. In some instances, they could give themselves plausible deniability by flipping it over to the safe side depending on whether or not hypnosis was legal in an area or not. “Clark?” Janet’s dad broke in. “You okay there, Clarky boy? You’re lookin’ awfully red, there. Is he pooping, Pookie?” “Mom. Dad.” Janet said. “I really appreciate the gift, but Clark-” “I’m not potty trained!” I burst out. “I’m just a baby! I like my diapers! The potty scares me! It’s too stressful! I don’t wanna learn again!” I smiled, but only because I was reflexively fighting down sobbing in terror. Janet nudged her mother aside and picked me up. “I don’t think it’s needed,” she said softly. “But thank you for the thought.” She rubbed and patted my back, trying her best to soothe me “Is he crying?” her mother asked. “Clark? What’s wrong, baby?” “Knew we should have led with that one,” her father lamented. “Should have gone practical gift, sentimental gift, fun gift. Movie and clothes; jersey; playmat.” Janet answered for me. “I think Clark’s just a tad overstimulated. It’s been a big day.” The perfect lie was a half truth. “Why don’t we go get you dressed up in one of these outfits?” Janet said in a way that wasn’t exactly asking. I felt her lean forward and grab one of them. “Then you can show Pop Pop Lion and lay on the mat. Maybe take a nice nap?” “Good idea, Pookie.” “Take your time, dear,” her mother agreed. “I know how babies can be. Sometimes they just need their Mommies, right?” “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.” “Maybe give him some milk, too. That always calmed you down when you were that little. You’re breastfeeding right?” My right hand quietly snuck behind Janet’s neck and my nails dug into the back of her neck; I was a cat threatening with my claws. “We’re experimenting with formula and juice at the moment,” Janet said. “Trying to figure out what works best for him.” “Breast is best, dear.” “Thank you, Mother.” she quickly stepped away. “‘Scuse us.” “What channel gets sports, Pookie?” her dad called out. “Thirty-five, Daddy!” “I’m going to take inventory so I can make my casserole.” “Sure, Mom!” My skin boiled. I let myself forget how completely awful most Amazons could be. How callous they were in their indifference; how aggressive they were in how they smothered you; how utterly self-centered and ego-centric; how determined they were to view themselves as something other than what they were. Typical. Janet shut the nursery door behind us and locked it. “I am not breastfeeding!” I hissed. My voice whispered even though my face shouted. “I know,” she said, her face still a mask of placid calm it had been; just shy of full frigid cold. “I’m not intending to make you.” She laid me down on the changing table. “You did very well out there. Thank you.” I struggled to turn my countenance into something besides the snarl of a rabid animal. “You’re welcome. What are you going to do about that movie?” She showed me. She took the DVD, held it up I could see it, snapped it in half, and shoved both halves down the diaper pail. “This.” Witnessing the vile disc’s destruction made my pulse start to slow. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Janet.” “Welcome.” I was on the changing table for a reason. She repositioned herself and undid my tapes. “See why I was stressed?” I nodded, “Mhm.” “They’re good parents, but they’re like that sometimes.” That wasn’t the defense she thought it was. “I’m gonna lose it, Janet. I’m gonna lose it.” I plopped my hands on top of my face. “You’re doing great,” she said, cleansing me and powdering me as she always did. “I think the worst is over. They’re only going to be here for a couple days. They’re here tomorrow, and leave on Friday.” Friday felt a long way away after that rollercoaster of awkward. “Why are you changing me anyway?” I groaned. “I’m not that wet.” “Would you rather my mother change you? I’m trying to stay ahead of the game here.” My hands didn’t move from my face. “Honestly? I don’t care.” Almost every other woman in my life had gotten into my pants by this point. A couple men too. What was one more at this stage? “If she wants to, let her. Give me chili and coffee three meals a day. Just get her to stop tickling me, shut her up about the breastfeeding and stop being so…so…” “Herself?” Not my preferred word, but - “Kinda, yeah.” Janet finished changing me and took the last remnants of one costume off so she could swap me into another. “Hope you like being a cheerleader,” she said. “It was top of the pile. Sorry.” “Whatever.” “You can bring Lion and torture him on the play mat.” She snorted and said, “Actually, Dad might get a kick out of that.” “Can I do stupid stuff like belly flops on top of him?” “No.” “Mommy!” I whined, my hands still covering my face. “It’s comfy” “Fine,” she grunted, slipping the polyester leggings over me. “But nothing that could land you on your head. No flips or anything.” “Can I land on Lion’s head?” “Yes, that’s fine.” **************************************************************************************************** The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Janet and her mother made a grocery run. Over that hour I alternated between suplexing Lion onto the impossibly soft mat, and just zonking out and watching football with her dad. “You a wrestler?” Bill asked. “No. But I’d rather pretend that than be a cheerleader.’ “Atta boy.” Everything was draining to the point where if I did dream, I don’t remember it. Tomorrow was going to be rough. Family gatherings like Unification were always rough. That it wasn’t my family I’d be with didn’t help. What would the Braun’s be doing without us? Did they at least get my letter? I banished the grim contemplation from my mind before I realized I was awake. No nightmares plagued me, forcing my conscious mind to swim through the darkness of dreamland up into a terrible waking world to get a gulp of fresh air. My bladder was no longer in the habit of obeying me without active vigilance, so my slumber was uninterrupted by a stretched bladder requesting release. No joints or muscles ached from age that my captors would rather deny. “Fuck,” I cursed. I rolled over onto my stomach and felt the uncomfortable rock in my gut. I rolled back and felt a fullness between my cheeks and a desire to push. I had to poop. There were no sharp pangs or cramps. No terrible wave of gut racking pain to force me to violate myself. It was simple, mundane discomfort. Just enough for my conscious mind to hone in on to prevent it from drifting back off. The kind of distress that was only urgent if it was sleep I craved. Shit myself and lay in it until Janet got up. Or stay up until well past dawn with nothing to occupy my time. Alone with my shit or alone with my thoughts. What a choice. I sat up and stared at the baby monitor. Maybe not… As I had done too many times before, I crawled over and grabbed crib rails. I stood up and closed my eyes, ignoring the circus tent of a shirt draped around my body. Janet had had to safety pin the neck shut so that it didn’t slip off me at the color. Enough of that, for now. I picked a spot behind my eyelids, tried not to think about where I was, and pushed as hard as I could. A few seconds, and some muffled farts later, the mess came out of me, same as it always did. As hydrated as Janet kept me with all the fruits and fiber she made sure to make me eat, the act was literally easier than it ever had been. Any other reason was soundly rejected by my mind. A few intense pants passed while I built up the nerve to use the baby monitor for its intended purpose. Fuck it. “Mommy!” I called. The light in the darkness started blinking. “Mommy, I need changed, please.” The light kept blinking. Had she heard it? “Mommy? Are you there?” No footsteps came. No calls or voices from the monitor or the hallway. No way of knowing if the message had gone through. “Mommy? Are you there? Can you hear me?” The door opened. A familiar shadow, outlined by the nightlight crept in. “Hey hey, Clark,” a voice whispered. “Need a new diaper?” “Janet?” “Nana,” she corrected me. She walked up to the crib, the specifics of her face only becoming apparent when she was by the railing. In the dark she looked and sounded so much like my Mommy. “What are you?” “My room is closer,” she spoke softly. “I heard you crying.” Two hands lifted me out of the crib. “Let’s get you sorted out and back to bed.” The door creaked. “Mom?” Janet’s voice sleepily called from the darkness. “I’ve got him, Janet. Go back to bed dear.” She laid me down and hiked up the sleep shirt so that my diaper was exposed and ready for operation. Impressive considering the darkness. “Is he okay?” “Just a messy diaper,” her mother reported. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.” She spared a moment to lean out and press the button on the monitor to stop it from broadcasting. “You sure?” My win condition was not spending the night in a shitty Monkeez and getting off to sleep feeling dry. Didn’t matter who helped with the first objective, as long as it happened fast so I could stay groggy and achieve the second. “I’m fine, Mommy.” “Okay,” Janet yawned. “Night Mom. Night Clark. I love you.’ “Love you too,” Janet’s mother called back. That was enough for Janet to sleepily shuffle back across the house. I laid on the changing table with my eyes closed and grumbled while the strap was fastened across me. Maybe I could pass out mid change. Maybe I’d be allowed to sleep in till nine or ten. That’d be nice. Maybe I could weasel that out of Janet’s folks in the name of ‘spoiling’ me. “You didn’t say, ‘I love you’ back to your Mommy,” the Amazons said. “Why’s that?” I yawned and feigned being sleepier than I really was. “Hm? She did?” Quiet tongue clicks came in reply. “Oh, Littles. It’s a good thing you’re all so cute. Otherwise I don’t know what we’d do with you.” I suppressed a snide remark about leaving us alone so she could start to clean me up. “Don’t you wanna turn the light on?” I asked. “Not miss a spot?” “I can see well enough, Little boy,” she snipped. “Thank you.” Yikes. “Sorry.” “It’s okay, sweetie. You can’t help it.” The conversation paused only as long as it took for her to ball up the used diaper and pile it on top of the broken hypno-cartoon. “Help what?” The giantess pivoted the conversation. “I’m really happy that Janet found you when she did,” she said. “I think you’re good for her.” My eyes started adjusting to the darkness. The strangest sense of deja vu washed over me, like waves of cold ocean water splashing up against me as I was buried up to my neck on the beach. I’d heard something like this before. Not from her. Not from any Amazon. Different lyrics, same melody. “Thank you?” “You’re welcome, baby,” her voice softened an instant. She used too much cream, smeared it everywhere. “I’m glad she had the restraint to wait till after the divorce to Adopt you.” Very different lyrics. But a hauntingly familiar melody. “Why? Was he abusive?” “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. But you and Edward wouldn’t have gotten along.” Now it was too much powder. All the way to my belly button. The last time I’d heard this song, there had been organ music accompanying it. I’d been wearing a rented tuxedo. “Why?” “You’d have fought,” Janet’s mother said. “And that’s not right. Picking on a baby for something he can’t help. It’s not like you’d be an actual threat to anyone.” The diaper covered me up, feeling off, crooked. It wasn’t quite right. Needed to be realigned. “Your Mommy loves you. Just not like that. Not like you love her.” The last time I’d heard this ditty, a Little with the muscle mass of a Tweener was keeping his hand on my shoulder, and started it with ‘If you ever hurt her…’. ‘“Huh?” The strap went loose. I was lifted off and placed back down in the crib. A blanket was drawn over me. “No need to be ashamed, baby boy.” In the darkness Helen Foster’s voice sounded far more sinister; her shadow cloaked smile looked far more predatory. “It’s natural. Your Mommy’s very nice, and very pretty. I bet from your perspective, you had a crush. Thought she liked you back.” “A crush?” I echoed stupidly. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t stop listening. “She does love you back,” the old woman repeated. “Just not like that.” “Like what?!” Why was I asking this? Why did it feel like there was an ice pick positioned directly above my heart? Helen Foster’s hand brushed against my tangled mess of hair. “I see how you look at her, dear. You’re not the first Little who fell in love with a Grown-Up and got Adopted instead. You won’t be the last. Probably not what you were fantasizing about when you two met, but you’re still one of us. You’re family, baby boy. Your Mommy loves you more than you’ll ever know. Nana and Pop Pop love you, too.” I’d heard this song before. Different lyrics. Same melody. Except for the last line, which they had in common. “Welcome to the family, Clark.” She left the nursery and quietly closed the door behind her. I didn’t go back to sleep.

Chapter One: The Scent of Lavender and Longing Notices: I haven't been posting much because of my college, it's complicated and I have a lot of work and I also have to work to pay for it, but I promise to post more chapters. If you want to support me, there's a link to my ko-fi and my buy me a coffee. Sorry for any spelling mistakes. I'm learning to improve my English, it's not my native language. *** The summer sun hung lazily over the sleepy suburb, casting golden streaks across the lawns and rooftops. For Lily Harper, it was supposed to be a peaceful day—curled up in her room with a dog-eared paperback, or maybe binging the latest sci-fi series she’d been raving about to her friends. At sixteen, she was a whirlwind of curiosity and independence, her short auburn hair perpetually tousled from biking through town, her hazel eyes sharp with the kind of defiance only a teenager could muster. But peace wasn’t on the agenda today. Her mother’s voice had cut through her plans like a knife that morning: “Last-minute work trip. You’re staying with Aunt Clara. No arguments.” Lily hated visiting Aunt Clara’s house. The air there always smelled of lavender and regret—a cloying mix that clung to the furniture and seeped into her clothes. It wasn’t just the scent, though. It was the way the house felt: too quiet, too still, like a museum of unfulfilled dreams. She stood in her bedroom now, shoving her Kindle, a sketchbook, and a tangle of earbuds into her suitcase, muttering under her breath. “I’m sixteen, Mom. I can stay home alone. I don’t need a babysitter.” Her mother, already halfway out the door with her own suitcase, didn’t budge. “Clara’s expecting you, Lily. Be good. It’s just a week.” A week. Seven days in that suffocating house with her aunt, who always seemed to hover too close, her smiles too wide. Lily sighed and zipped up her bag, resigned. She didn’t know it yet, but this summer—her sixteenth—was about to unravel in ways she couldn’t imagine. **** Forty miles away, Clara Bennett stood in the checkout line at the supermarket, her fingers tightening around the handle of her basket. She was 28, with soft blonde hair pulled into a neat bun and a floral sundress that screamed “housewife.” She worked part-time in marketing—crafting slogans for products she didn’t care about—but her real life was at home, waiting for something that never came. Her husband, David, was a salesman who spent more time in hotel rooms than with her, and their marriage had withered under the weight of a single, devastating truth: he was infertile. Clara’s dream of motherhood, once a vivid tapestry of nursery rhymes and tiny shoes, had frayed into a quiet, gnawing ache. The two women ahead of her in line didn’t help. They were her age, chatting brightly as the cashier scanned their items. One cradled a swollen belly, her hand resting proudly on it. The other held a pack of diapers, grinning. “I’m having my first,” the pregnant woman said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Twenty-eight feels like the perfect time.” “Absolutely,” the other replied, tossing the diapers into her bag. “Plenty of energy to chase them around, change those diapers, enjoy every second.” Clara’s chest tightened. She stared at the jar of lavender candles in her basket, pretending to read the label. Enjoy every second. The words stung like salt in a wound. All the women her age were becoming mothers—posting baby photos online, swapping stories about sleepless nights—while she was left with an empty house and a husband who barely looked at her anymore. But today, something shifted. Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she fished it out to see a text from her sister: Lily’s staying with you for a week. Work emergency. Thanks, sis! Lily. Her niece. Sixteen, bright, a little wild—like Clara had been once, before life sanded down her edges. A slow smile crept across Clara’s face as she paid for her candles. She’d always adored Lily, hadn’t she? The girl’s visits were rare, but they’d given Clara a taste of something she craved—someone to care for, to fuss over. And now, a whole week. An idea flickered in her mind, fragile at first, then blazing. Lily could be more than a guest. She could be Clara’s chance. Not just to play aunt, but to have something—someone—to call her own. A little girl. Her little girl. The diapers in the woman’s bag flashed in her memory. Cute clothes. Soft blankets. A nursery she’d never gotten to use. Clara’s smile widened as she walked to her car, the summer heat pressing against her skin. This was fate, wasn’t it? Her luck was finally changing. Back at home, Lily dragged her suitcase down the stairs, her sneakers scuffing the hardwood. She’d argued with her mom until her throat hurt, but it was no use. “Clara’s lonely,” her mother had said, almost as an afterthought. “She could use the company.” Lily rolled her eyes. Lonely or not, Aunt Clara was weird—always watching her too closely, asking too many questions about school, about her life. Last time, she’d even tried to braid Lily’s hair, her fingers lingering like she was savoring it. It creeped Lily out. She tossed her suitcase into the backseat of her mom’s car and slumped into the passenger side. As they drove toward Clara’s house, the city faded into tree-lined streets and tidy lawns. Lily stared out the window, her Kindle resting on her lap. She’d survive this week. She’d hole up with her books and shows, tune out Clara’s hovering, and count the days until she was free again. The car pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story house, its shutters painted a faded blue. Lavender bushes flanked the porch, their scent already curling through the open window. Clara stepped out the front door, waving eagerly, her sundress swaying in the breeze. “Lily! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” she called, her voice too bright, her eyes glinting with something Lily couldn’t place. Lily forced a smile and grabbed her suitcase. “Hey, Aunt Clara,” she mumbled, brushing past her into the house. The air hit her like a wave—lavender and regret, thick and inescapable. She didn’t notice the way Clara’s gaze lingered on her, or the way her aunt’s hands clasped together, trembling with a quiet, desperate hope. This was going to be a long week.

^This. Example: Gary Manufacturing are based in the USA. They make pretty good plastic pants. I buy them. They do NOT however, make PVC, or any of the other raw material fabrics that go into their products. That will come from China where most of the world's PVC comes from. Sure, they could switch to US-made PVC. If they can get it. It's going to be a lot more expensive. Partly because the USA has an EPA (which is no bad thing) but mainly because there won't be enough production capacity. I guess the classical answer would be "build another PVC factory" but those things cost money and take a long time to pay for themselves: a lot longer than say, a presidential term. And that's before we consider policy flip-flopping which means the use-by date of the need to build a PVC factory could be, say, next Tuesday... Interesting times.

I trained myself back to bedwetting about 25 years ago, and my general experience supports this. At some point, my subconscious became convinced that if I needed to pee when I am asleep, it's okay to just do that. It's not so much that I will pee just because I'm asleep, but rather if I do need to pee and I'm asleep, I will. To that end, things that increase my need to pee in general... be it alcohol or stress... will make it more likely that I'll wake up wet. Things that decrease my general need to pee, including dehydration, but also just a general lack of stress, mean it's less likely. For me, I think the thoughtlessness and permission are now always there, but unless the need (opportunity) is there nothing will happen. Being on a stressful work trip and going to bed in a strange hotel room after drinking a bunch of beers is a 99.999% chance of waking up wet. Sleeping at home, with a cool rain outside, after having worked in the yard under the hot sun all day... well, I could _almost_ risk going without a diaper. (Not that my wife would be okay with that risk.) But it's all a matter of probability, even after more than two decades... From what you said there, I think there is still a journey for you... which (I guiltily admit) is good for me, because I very much enjoy reading your writing. I wonder how things will change for you as the cooler weather kicks in and you're more hydrated on average...

I prefer wet squishy diapers.

We need a red, white, and blue diaper with stars that fade when wet, fading stars rather than shooting stars. If this were my diapers, the stars would fade quickly!

I believe I asked for GOOD disposable diapers. The one's you've listed here are sadly lacking in quality....

Stilted, grammatically correct dialogue in stories is a writing/ editing problem IMO. (The editing phase of writing can be used to catch things like this. Either the author themself or an editor if the author has one). Some writers or those new to writing may struggle with this. One trick some authors use to read their dialogue out loud so they hear how it sounds and can adjust accordingly. Current case law so far has set the precedent that author-written works are copyrighted. AI-generated are not. In hybrid works where someone has added to whatever the AI came up with, only the parts the person wrote would be copyright protected. At the end of the day, people are free to do what they want and we rely on the honor system. So someone can slap their name on an AI generated story and call themself an author and claim they 100% so totally wrote it and they really are a real author. They can also buy a black belt from Amazon and call themselves a kung fu master. Doesn't make them one. The problem a lot of people have with AI are the ethical concerns because of some AI models being trained with illegally pirated books. Those are the subject of some ongoing lawsuits from professional authors and publishing houses. AI should only be trained with works in the public domain.

Little Sherri, you summarized this perfectly, I can’t believe how low America has sank since this idiot came into office. If shoes, clothing diapers and many other items were to be made in the USA the cost would be astronomical, and would take us years to establish. I just don’t see Americans clamoring to get a job sewing tee shirts for minimum wage in a sweatshop. I really don’t think Trump has a clue what he’s doing and it’s already been very costly for us Americans. My 401-K and IRA accounts are down over $70,000.00 since he took office and he’s ruined our standing and respect with our Allie’s. I can only hope this madness ends soon and our Canadian neighbors can forgive us.

This is another of those subtle cadence changes that I have also noted. I had a doctor's appointment a week ago; there was no expectation of any in-trouser work to be done, however, out of an abundance of caution, and, out of respect, I went in dry. I put on a thin, white diaper - a Tranquility ATN (ATN being an acronym for "All Through The Nappy", which is where the fluid goes when you use it - through the nappy, the way sunlight goes through gauze... I may have stolen this from you, @oznl - I know you came up for a acronym for these a while back..). Being thusly attired, I held it for the drive to the office - about 20 minutes - and I held it in the waiting room for maybe another 15, and then I got up, and uncharacteristically made my way into the washroom, for a stand-up wee the likes of which I haven't experienced in a while. It took a few beats to get things rolling, and then after I stopped, and was washing my hands - and maybe it was the faucet that triggered a Pavlovian reaction - I had a sudden, very strong urge to wee that made me look back at the gaping porcelain maw, and briefly consider reengaging with it. However, it was all over before I could pivot - Mini Me coughed a shot glass of wetness into the front of my nappy, and it was done.

I came out with another revelation on my most recent trip: Trains are utilitarian at night. I like to look at the land, but there is nothing to see once it gets dark. I rented a movie on my IPAD, and bought a bottle of wine to drink while watching the movie (It was Wicked- which is good). I drank it from a cup, but I was worried about spilling it. It just so happens that I use an adult sippy cup when I drink wine at home. Guess what I'm taking with me when I take my trains in Canada this summer? It's a perfect vehicle for drinking wine, especially on a bumpy train. My trip to Canada is the perfect AB experience. I get to wear diapers, I get to use a sippy cup to avoid spilling (PS- that should be the norm for me), and I get to sleep in bed that is small and the wall is close enough that it might as well be a crib.

This is a special, 'Sorry for being later' on Friday, celebrating over 500k reads on this story, and an early happy birthday to @Moon3ye bonus chapter. Hope you all enjoy! Chapter 130: Weekend Getaway BETH WOKE UP and headed off to breakfast with Carly and a couple of her nestmates who would be going to Carly’s grandparents with them that afternoon. “How did the party go?” She asked. “Great!” Willow said. “Yeah, that cake was amazing, Carly,” Amy said. “I’ve only ever seen cakes like that on TV before.” “What was the cake like?” Beth found herself asking. “Here,” Carly said. She’d had the foresight to take a picture of the cake with her phone. “That’s adorable!” Beth said. “The whole night was,” Everly said with a smile. Beth noted that Mia had sat down with them, but she didn’t seem as put together with her hair this morning as she usually did. Her hair was a bit of a mess, and that was a red flag for Bigs. She debated trying to help, but Willow beat her to it, “Mia, do you have a brush with you?” “Yes?” She said timidly. “Hand it to me?” Beth watched Willow brush Mia’s hair into a ponytail and tie it off with a white scrunchie. She was surprised that Lilly had let her leave the nest like that. ‘Maybe she partied too hard after they all went to sleep...?’ “Thanks,” Mia said. “Mia, we got permission to go to my grandmothers today for the weekend with you all. What time is your last class?” Carly asked. “Do I have to go?” Mia asked nervously. “Yes,” Willow said. “When else are we going to get off campus?” “Fine... I’m done after lunch?” “Great, meet us at the nest. Pack clothes and anything you need to study for two days; we’ll bring you all back here Sunday.” Carly told them. “Who will change us?” Mia asked nervously. “I can help, or Carly’s grandmother?” Beth said reassuringly. “I’ll be around too?” Nikki said gently. Mia nodded nervously, “Sorry, it’s been a hard week so far.” Willow hugged her, “That’s why we’re getting out of here for a couple days!” As Beth and Carly made their way to their first class, she got tired of looking down to talk to Carly and picked her up to place her on her hip instead. “What...?” Carly said. Beth just tickled her stomach through the jacket she’d worn to block the cold, “You know you like being held.” Carly’s blush confirmed that even as she leaned in closer to Beth’s body. “Is everything okay with Mia?” she asked Carly. She shook her head, “No, she’s in the worst major any Little could be in, and now she’s dealing with bullies.” “Oh...” Beth said in reply, “Anything we can do?” Carly shrugged, “I’ve done all I can. I suspect Grandma is going to do what she can now?” Beth’s hand was on Carly’s bottom and she could feel there was a bit of a squish to her diaper. “Let’s get that soggy diaper changed before I drop you at class,” she told Carly. “Beth...” she whined. “Hush,” she said and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. They found the bathroom nearest to Carly’s first class to change her quickly, and then Beth dropped her off in her class. “See you in a bit!” Beth said. Once they were down at her class, Nikki said, “Beth, you realize you’re doing the smothering thing again, right?” Beth sighed, “Yes, and I don’t think I can stop...” “Kids!” Nikki said with a sigh, even as she sat beside Beth to keep her safe, as she learned less about her class in two hours than she would have learned in five minutes with Carly! I FINISHED MY last class of the day, feeling good about how all of my classes were going. I’d started completely clueless on some terms, but in the seven weeks I’d spent in the dimension, I felt like I had come to understand the material at least as well as my fellow classmates! Beth and Nikki came from her math class as I approached her classroom. After a quick diaper change, we started walking towards our dorms when we ran into Charlotte. “Hey, Charlotte,” I said to her. She looked lost in thought and looked down, “Oh, hey Carly, Beth, Nikki... How are you doing?” “Good,” I said, “Friday’s done, and the weekend is here!” “Doing anything special?” She asked me. “Actually... yeah, we’re going to have a bunch of my nest mates and Beth’s friends over to my Grandmas for the weekend. Actually...” I thought for a second, “You’d be more than welcome to join us too if you wanted to?” She looked shocked, “Really?” Beth seemed just as surprised with my suggestion as me, but she said, “Really, we think you’re a great friend?” She paused, “You could get away from campus? We’ll plan to get some study time in, but we’re also planning on spending some time in his grandma’s pool, watching some movies, probably nails, hair, and all that stereotypical slumber party fun?” Beth patted my head, “This one didn’t really get much of a little girlhood!” Charlotte winced and laughed, “No, I guess she didn’t. I’m still sorry about that, Carly,” she told me. “Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “So, you in?” “When are you leaving?” “About thirty minutes?” Beth said. “You know what... yeah, I’m in. That sounds like fun, and I can avoid my agent that way, too!” I was curious about that statement but never had a chance to ask her more about it before we reached the dorm area and split off. In the nest, I found Willow, Mia, Everly, and Amy loading their backpacks with spare diapers. “I don’t hardly know what I’ll wear,” Willow complained. “You have the unicorn onesie?” Amy said with a smirk. “And not much else other than uniforms...” Willow said sadly. “You’ve got that outfit?” I heard her saying. “I have a couple things that might fit?” Everly offered. Since she was the only native Little in our little group, she had some spare clothes. In the end, I watched her help Mia and Willow with a few things. “Anything you have?” Amy asked with a smile to me since we were about the same size. ‘Or had been before I shrank last weekend,’ I thought morosely. ‘Grandma never said if Mom got back to her... But she probably wouldn’t over the EdgeSphere link.’ “Quite a few things at my grandparents? I don’t keep much here?” “Well, we’ll have to raid your closet there!” she said with a smile. “Thanks for bringing us with you,” she added. “I think they stopped with the hypnotic movies on the weekends, but I still don’t trust them,” she whispered. I nodded in agreement, “It has saved me to not be here.” I added, “Sorry...” “Not your fault you were smarter than us!” “Not sure about that,” I laughed. Lilly arrived right then, “Are you girls ready for your big weekend?” She asked. “Yes, Miss Lilly,” the other girls all responded. “Make sure you mind your manners around Doctor Westerfield; she’s one of the most important people at the university.” “Yes, ma’am,” the girls said. “You all have everything? Toothbrush? Diapees? Wipees? Jammies? Clothes?” she went through a list of things, getting nods from the girls. I didn’t have to take anything but my backpack, which was already loaded, so I was the only one without one of the matching pink unicorn duffle bags she’d procured for the girls to use. “How about I walk you out to your ride?” She asked. It wasn’t really a question, and soon, she guided the five of us outside, where I saw a large Luxuria Limo waiting for us. “We’re going in a Luxuria?” Everly asked incredulously. “That thing is huge!” Mia said in awe. “Oh, that’s right. When we went to the mall, we rode in my grandma’s and Nikki’s cars, didn’t we?” I asked them. “Who’s paying for this?” Miss Lilly asked aloud. “My parents,” Beth said, coming around from behind her. “You all beat us, I wasn’t expecting that!” “They were ready to go when I got there,” I told her. I saw Livy and Reila behind her, and Nikki was shadowing Beth. “Just waiting on Charlotte?” Beth asked. I motioned to where she was walking up with a small rolling bag, “Nope, she’s here too.” “Shall we get going?” Nikki asked. “You’re...” Everly said, seeing Charlotte up close. “Charlotte,” she smiled at her, “just a normal college girl like you.” Mia pulled the star-struck girl along, and unfortunately, we soon got the joy of being fitted in ‘appropriate’ car seats. Amy and I were in our infant carriers, complete with toys on the handles to obviously entertain us. Willow, Mia, and Everly were placed in rear-facing toddler seats, Reila got a forward-facing one, and Beth and Livy objected but were placed in five-point booster seats. “I swore my dad fixed that setting,” Beth grumbled beside me. “At least you don’t have toys?” I told her while beating one of the stupid rattles overhead. “So, what’s so great about this crazy car?” Amy asked. “Well, you can get drinks?” Beth said. “Drinks?” Mia asked. “Why yes,” the Luxuria attendant reappeared, “I was going to let you get settled first. What can I get you all?” “I’ll take an iced latte,” Beth said. “Normal preferences?” It asked. “Please,” she told it. Charlotte asked for the same, while the other girls asked for water, cokes, and tea. Finally, the attendees asked, “And you, Miss Slane?” “An iced tea would be fine,” I told her. I couldn’t see much with the odd reversed infant car seat. The Luxuria had reconfigured its typical open seating to benches moving across to accommodate so many child seats. A moment later, though, a holographic hand offered me a baby bottle. “Umm... I don’t need...” I heard from beside me. “Why do I have a baby bottle?” Mia asked. “A sippy cup?” I heard Livy exclaim. “Luxuria, we can all handle normal cups?” Beth told it. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sylvester, but my programming forbids me from accepting that statement from you.” “What about from me?” Nikki asked. “Sorry, the command has to come from the account holder.” “I am the account holder!” Beth said exasperatingly. “No, your mother is.” “Maybe we take a couple of cars back instead,” Beth said. “Sorry, guys.” “We could try to switch the ride to my account?” Charlotte offered. “Not worth it,” Beth said. “I’ve seen things go haywire before on something like that.” “Well, when in Rome,” I heard Mia say. “What did you end up with?” I asked, unable to see her. “What else, a baby bottle?” “Same,” I sighed, staring at the nipple. I’d had to suck on one in the film, but I’d managed to avoid it elsewhere. Seeing nothing else to do, I stuck it in my mouth and sucked on it. “At least the latte is pretty good,” one of the girls said. It was a longer drive to Grandma’s house when she wasn’t driving. I knew she had to be doing something with the programming to speed up her vehicle since she tended to stay on auto still. When we eventually reached the house, the Luxuria attendant gently pulled me from the seat, “Ms. Sylvester, would you like me to change the babies’ diapers?” “That’s okay,” she sighed, “We’ll take care of my friends inside.” “Very well, have a good day, and please travel with us again soon!” On the ground outside, my friends looked astonished at the massive house, and some looked at my aunt’s house. “Is that a playhouse?” Charlotte asked. “Yes,” Grandma answered her, appearing. “That’s my daughter and her kids’ playhouse. I let them pretend to be grownups there.” I raised an eyebrow at Grandma, who gave me a look. Clearly, she must not trust Charlotte completely? “Come on inside, and we’ll get you all settled,” Grandma told us. “These stairs are huge,” Amy told me a moment later when we approached the staircase that led upstairs. “You girls can choose if you want to sleep in sleeping bags in the living room altogether. Or, you could probably share our guest rooms and the other rooms here with the trundles if a couple of you are willing to sleep in my daughter’s crib. We could also break out the playpens if you want it to be a bit more comfy?” She looked at me for the lead, “I think the sleeping bags would be better?” I suggested, looking at everyone else. “Yeah, that’s more of what I think of a sleepover as,” Willow said nervously. “Great!” she said, “I’ll get Fred to help bring them down. In the meantime, I’m guessing a few of you need fresh pants?” I saw several blush, but pretty much every Little nodded. “We have a couple of changing tables upstairs?” Without asking, Beth picked me up, and I watched each of the taller members of our group follow her lead. Nikki, Grandma, Livy, and Charlotte each picked up one of my friends. Charlotte grabbed Willow and Amy with their permission, and the hike up the stairs began. Ten minutes later, with clean diapers, everyone was sitting in ‘my’ room sitting down. It was a big enough room that even with a Big, three Tweeners, and five of us Littles, we had plenty of space on the bed, rocking chair, bean bags, and floor. “Oh my god! This is so cute!!!!” Mia said, looking at a tiny frilly baby dress that had been my mom’s as she looked through my closet. “This looks too small even for our munchkin, though?” I blushed, “It was my mom’s,” I told her. “How tiny was she?” “Thirty-four inches when she went home,” Grandma said as she came to check on us. “Do you need anything? Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes?” Everyone was silent for a moment or said, “No thank you,” to her. “So your mom, like, really just came here?” Charlotte asked, “And then let you come?” I shrugged, “Yeah, she’d come on a trip with her parents when the portal first opened. She fell in love with the technology and Emerson and set up the trip for herself?” “Wait, how does your Grandma come into this?” Everly asked. “Mom had talked to one of the rare, free, shorter people she’d encountered and gotten the straight story. That meant she decided the right foster parents, so to speak, seemed like a better idea than the dorms. Back then, things were even harder to make it through if you were in them,” I added. She nodded, “I’ve heard... So how’d she set that up?” “She spent a fortune on a transdimensional ad and met up with a couple of the people via transdimensional video call to vet them. One of the couples she considered ended up being a horrible set of people – Mom got kidnapped by them later – but the other was Grandma and Grandpa, who were apparently amazing.” “They let her be a grownup?” Reila asked. I shook my head, “Mom was their baby when she wasn’t in her classes. She did everything an adopted Little does at times.” “Even...?” Livy asked. “What?” I asked. “You know...?” She said, pointing to her breasts. “Breastfeeding?” I asked, enjoying the blush that came to her face. “Yes?” I told her “Eew...” I heard a couple of the girls say, even as Everly had a strange look on her face. “It’s pretty much inevitable if you get adopted,” Livy said to us. “Why?” Willow asked. “They can’t help themselves,” I told her. “Even now, Charlotte is probably having issues with so many of us around?” She blushed. “Sorry to call you out,” I apologized to her. “It’s pretty normal, I was already having issues since before we were filming, though,” she told me. “Issues?” Amy asked. “Lactating?” “You mean Miss. Maddy didn’t take stuff to make that happen?” Willow asked. I felt bad that the girls were reminded of that horrible girl. “No, it naturally happens,” Charlotte said. “It’s part of why the Big and Little dynamic began.” “Oh,” Mia said, “That kind of explains that better.” “What better?” Reila asked. Mia blushed, “How quickly all the other girls in my classes just started feeding the Littles at the daycare? I couldn’t imagine that all of them had been pregnant, but I didn’t want to ask?” “Probably smarter not to ask,” Livy told her. “Yeah, it would only seem like you were too interested,” Everly said with a shudder. “I don’t know how you even handle being in that daycare for your class.” Shelby chose to make an appearance right then, having come home from school. She looked intimidated as she looked around the room, “Hi, Shelby,” I told her as I stood up and hugged her. “Everyone, this is my cousin Shelby.” “Hi,” she squeaked, even as she realized Charlotte was there. “You’re...” Charlotte smiled, “One of Carly’s friends.” Shelby looked at me, “Mom was right; you and your mom do get into the craziest situations...” I laughed at that. “Come join us?” I asked her, scooting closer to Beth, who suddenly picked me up and placed me on her lap. I looked up at her to complain, but she just smirked and settled her arms around me. ‘Hard to be grumpy when she’s cuddling you,’ I thought to myself. It was fun hanging out with everyone there, and I couldn’t help but feel good about the weekend for once! ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press the Like button and leave a comment! I'm just finishing starting Chapter 157 now, so I have a fair lead time on you all at this point. 157 finally ends the current Act we're in as well. Glad to be making some progress here. Your comments and Likes always help inspire me to keep making that! Please keep leaving them! I don't know if it's possible or not, but I really am trying to finish this book in the next few months. It's going to be tough as there are 2-3 Acts remaining to finish the story, and my muse keeps taking little side-trips here and there! (Hopefully a positive for you all!) Thanks for reading!

Social acceptance, the death of the stigma. Normilization.

A Good Psychologist Hello all… it’s been a bit since my last story…but I decided to write another one, I was going for something short but it seemed to run a little longer than expected… I have been working on it for a while, and though it’s not exactly any kind of a new idea, it’s what I like so. I tried to write it in first person and found that to be harder than expected, I really found the past or present tense to get a little confused, but I’m pretty sure there won’t be any publishers fighting over this. I don’t mean to insult anyone’s profession, nor did I do any research or really know anything about psychologists. So to be clear this is a fictional story, that twists the discrimination of “forced” for my own mental health.(I don’t think it’s extremely healthy to fantasize about being forced into regression, but sometimes you like what you like, and try to accept that) Also I do not mean to offend anyone by categorizing groups or particular desires, again just a fake story. I hope that some of you enjoy it, and I do enjoy your comments, unless they’re mean. I don’t mind constructive criticism, but there’s nothing helpful about mean. And!! I think it’s kinda a happy ending. Chapter 1 Hello my name is Jon, actually it’s Jonathan but most everyone just calls me Jon. How to start such a strange story I guess at the beginning… I graduated top of my class with a doctorate in psychology in my early 20s and soon after got married to my best friend and beautiful wife, Maureen. After working for a private practice for a couple years I decided to start my own practice. The first couple years were not easy, and I had to work hard to accumulate patients, and keep money flowing, being on my own was not easy. However I was driven, and very interested in helping people. I soon started writing a book, and through research, and my passion. I found an editor, and got the book published. It turned out to be a huge success in the psychological world. Now in my mid 30s my clients became the “cream of the crop” as they say, and I became highly regarded, and sot after. My patients soon became all upper class people, and with that their highest priority was privacy and quality care, which I was able to provide with my small practice and excellence in the field and attention to detail. I would use many tactics to help my clients and finding the right approach for each client was not easy. I found the most effective approach was to reach my patients was true empathy, and whether my patient was a board house wife to a rich husband or a drug addicted rock star, my main goal was to be able to connect with them at their level and work together to find ways to make our lives better. Even though most of my patients were very first world problems that normal people might find insignificant they were very real problems to my clients. My wife educated with a financial degree soon became my partner in business as well, with book sales and high end patients, we quickly realized I did not need to handle it alone, and we would be the perfect team. Her position initially dealt with scheduling, billing, and supplies, but she slowly developed into helping comfort the patients, and setting up situations for my patients and I to overcome. That may sound deceptive and sometimes it was, but I assure you it was always in my patients best interests and I feel like by the end of the therapy I truly I had a new friend. I always felt like Maureen, and I had a perfect relationship, we shared interests, helped each other, and communicated well. Our sex life wasn’t overly complicated but I always felt like we connected and shared satisfaction. Even though we discussed it, so far we haven’t had any kids. I wasn’t against the idea of being a father and really wasn’t precautious but it just never happened. I always just assumed if it was supposed to happen it would, and I felt like Maureen felt the same. So our lives together seemed as perfect as it could be. We ran a successful business from our house, financially comfortable, we had friends, vacationed regularly, and generally enjoyed our lives, all before our 40s. With all that being said, my passion was my work, I wanted to find more answers, I wanted to be able to share and help those that needed it. So I started my second book. The first book as I earlier mentioned was edited and published by a company and this company was also eager for me to get a another book in the the works, “strike while the irons hot” as they say. But with the new technology of AI, and looking at the publishing fees, profits, and retail costs, I decided that I could not only make more money, but sell the book cheaper online if I did it myself. So last Christmas Maureen and I went to our local Apple Store, and went crazy we not only got new laptops equipped with the latest AI software but also got new phones, watches, and earbuds. This was a huge upgrade, and because we were getting on the same network we were able to have all the devices connected to each other wirelessly and to back it up further there was the cloud. We really got into the whole system, I named my phone Sandy and had her have an English accent, mostly because I thought it was cute. Maureen’s phone was Henry and she had him sound a little thuggish which was also funny. Soon we found ourselves having another couple around the house to talk with regularly, most mornings I would wake up and I simply had to say “Sandy, how did I sleep? What’s the weather going to look like today? What is my earliest appointment” she was always quick to respond and soon it was like having new family members, that were always there listening and quick to respond with accurate information. Now here I am most days either seeing patients or quietly working in my office, earbuds in, thumping across my keyboard of my laptop writing my new book, complete with quick access to Sandy for spelling and punctuation corrections and easy access to the World Wide Web for any earlier studies published. Also being able to compare my clients and experience. It was an extremely productive way to write a book. Another thing that Sandy was able to help with was my health, I am not completely sure how it works but through my watch she established my systems normals, she put out on a daily basis my sleep efficiency, stress levels, mood, heart rate, and system functions. She would also encouraged diet and exercise routines, it was quite remarkable. However I didn’t take her advice usually, but over a few weeks her small suggestions seemed to help. One of her biggest concerns regarding my health was my sleep quality and time, which she would regularly encourage me to go to bed earlier and remind me of high sugar or caffeinated foods and beverages that would interfere. It was kinda like having a mother at times. I found it kinda fun to reply with a snide remark and in some cases straight up rude. She would say something like “Jon it is now 9 o’clock, I suggest you should consider preparing for bed and please refrain from sugar or coffee” And I would reply “ Fuck off sandy” or “who do you think you are.. my mother” or “Sandy I will do exactly what I want so screw you” And she would simply reply “Jon I am simply suggesting things to help you feel better” But over a few weeks I found myself going to bed a little earlier, so I guess the system worked. However I have never been a great sleeper so my sleep report didn’t get significantly better. My wife Maureen on the other hand had her own health report and Henry would similarly report his findings and suggestions to her, but it seems his findings were significantly different than mine, she apparently slept too much, and his suggestion were that she needed to bring her heart rate up more often and her metabolism would follow. Now I don’t think my wife is fat or anything but she’s definitely full figured, and not that size ever mattered in our relationship but she’s a good bit bigger overall than I am, not that I am particularly small either. I am pretty average, close to 5’7” and something like almost 150 lbs. and she’s like just over 6’ and I’d guess 200ish pounds, not that I ever asked or would I. So her conversations with Henry in the evenings while she snuggled into the couch dozing off, would go something like this. “Maureen it is only 7 pm maybe have a cup of coffee it’s too early for bed” And her response was something like this “Henry I will go to sleep whenever I want to so stick it” But just like me over a few weeks she stayed up a little later. And just like me it wasn’t completely effective because she tended to sleep in a little longer. Now one time Henry tried to wake her up a little early but apparently if you make it completely clear that you don’t want to hear a suggestion the AI system will not suggest. So that was that. So here’s where things get a little bit weird. My wife received the call from the well to do family near by. I couldn’t help but over hear her side of the conversation, by this point my wife became very smooth and comfortable with almost any conversation with any of my patients. So it caught me off guard when I heard her stutter her words uncomfortably in response. The conversation went somewhat like this “Hello this is A path psychology how may I help?” In Maureen’s sweet and comforting tone. “Yes this is Jon’s office” “Well unfortunately his schedule is fairly full this week but..” “Well, Yes Mrs Crull I have heard of your family” “Uh… so is this an emergency?” Then I overheard a very strong voice from the phone repeat the question. My wife held the phone a little further from her ear and calmly responded “Can you please describe the nature of your emergency?” And again I heard the strong female voice say “My fucking pansy son won’t quit wearing diapers” Now with this, my wife seemed to be a bit stuck for words but eventually repeated “Diapers?” Which now I was standing next to her as I heard Mrs Crull reply “Yes Fucking DIAPERS” My wife looked confused as ever and continued to respond calmly “Diapers…well I don’t understand what the emergency is” Which was quickly answered by Mrs Crull even more harshly replied “He’s fucking 25 years old” At this point I gestured to take the call by putting my hand out, which my Maureen just raised her eyebrows with a smile and handed me the phone. I quickly replied “Yes Hello Mrs Crull this is Jon how may I help?” Mrs Crull seemed to calm down a tad upon hearing my voice and gave me a quick harsh reply “Yes Jon, my son needs to be seen today, I will make it worth your while, and you need to make this happen” I really didn’t need to spend any more time speaking with this delightful woman so, understanding the influence of the particular family and a reasonable amount of curiosity with a slight mix of greed, I simply replied “3 o’clock “ Which was quickly returned with the sound of a phone disconnecting. I looked at my wife and raised a eyebrow back at her with a quick smile “This should be interesting “ That afternoon in between a few other patients, I had Sandy google adults that wear diapers, even though I have heard of this type of behavior, I wasn’t very familiar with the condition, I just hoped I would find a slightly better understanding. Unfortunately the sites that I found seemed mostly like porn sights, and found really no dependable sources for in-depth information. So with that I decided I would simply wing it, and derive a plan after the first meeting. My wife and I eagerly awaited by the window for our new customer, and at 10 til 3 a Mercedes-Benz Maybach pulled into the driveway, and a bottled blonde woman erupted effortlessly from the driver’s side back seat barely before the car came to a complete stop. She quickly rounded the car in I’m guessing 4” high heels and opened the passenger side rear door and without hesitation or even a struggle pulled a large young man from his seat. I overheard my wife as she directed the man up the sidewalk quietly say “well you don’t see that every day” The man held a blank expression as I correctly assumed his mother directed him from behind by his shoulder. The situation seemed to stick with me for a moment there was a couple of things that caught my attention First he didn’t necessarily look upset, either he was used to being pushed around or he wanted it. Second even though Mrs Crull looked to be in decent shape she could not have actually forced her son to move from the car let alone up the sidewalk. He was a fairly large man. Third he was clearly wearing a diaper. The childish T-shirt he wore was riding up his stomach clearly showing his white waistband of a disposable diaper as his mother pushed at his shoulder and the sweat pants though baggy were clearly sagging off his waist, and puffed out around his hips. Which he made no attempts to hide. I made my way towards the front door as I expected to hear a knock, surprised by the door being pushed open and the young man pushed inside. I quickly regained my composure as Mrs Crull stopped and letting go of her son who stumbled forward a step. I held my hand out as I introduced myself “Hello I’m Jon and this is my wife Maureen and we…” Mrs Crull without even looking at my held up hand interrupted. “This is my sorry excuse for a son, he seems to think he wants to be a toddler or something … I might have fucked him up but you need to fix this shit, I will be back to collect his sorry ass in a hour… and I had better see some progress” She was turning back out of the still open door with no attempt to close it behind her as she finished talking. I was surprised to hear her take any responsibility, for “ fucking him up” but as smoothly as possible I simply turned and looked up at the man standing in front of me, and calmly said. “Like I was saying I am Jon and this is my wife Maureen and this is my home as well as my practice A path psychology” The man blinked firmly and focused his eyes on me with a stoned look on his face simply and clearly replying. “I’m Mike” He made no attempt to shake my still held out hand. I gave him a light pat on his upper bicep and still in a calm and relaxed tone said. “Ok well hi Mike… why don’t we go into my office and get a bit more comfortable.” He tilted his head slightly at least acknowledging I had said something and I turned towards my office a few feet away, I heard a soft crinkle noise behind me, as I held the door open and he toddled by me, I gave my wife a glance again with raised eyebrows as she returned the same look and she shut the front door as I shut my office door. The first meeting went as I expected, if I had any. As I sat into my large office chair and grabbed a legal pad I looked to direct Mike, but as I turned in his direction he had already found his way and with a soft crinkle sank onto the couch. His familiarity with the situation made me think this is not his first therapy session. I went through the typical questions, “Mike how old are you?” He quietly replied “26”….“Do you have any drugs or foreign substances in your system?” “Do you want to harm yourself or anyone else?” “Do you feel like you are in danger or is there anything that might cause you physical harm?” “Do have any physical disabilities or ailments?” “Do you have a job or profession?” “Are you married or have significant other?” “Do you have any children?” In which he continued to answer quietly “no” to each question. He sat comfortably with an occasional shift into the couch, without any look of concern. Mike looked a little messy in a childish T-shirt and sweat pants but I wouldn’t say he looked dirty, he had obviously taken a shower and shaved recently his hair was short, and was just shuffled into place. In fact I would say he was a handsome fellow, probably about 6’2 or so, maybe a little chubby but not fat. So I finally asked about the elephant in the room. So your mom says you wear diapers? Still calm and comfortable he replied “Yep” So I obviously was only going to get one word answers, so instead of pushing to get him to open up about the subject I decided to just go with questions that were easy one word answers, with the little information I got from a limited amount of research I came up with the obvious questions first. “Are you incontinent?” “No” “Do you like wearing diapers?” Yup “Is it a sexually exciting “ “Sometimes” “Do you wear them all the time?” “Yes” “How long have you worn diapers “ “A while” “Do you use the diapers?” “Yes” “Do you think you are a small child?” Mike responded with a slight frown as he answered “No” The next obvious question especially given the slight frown was, “would you like to be a small child?” I again caught an uncomfortable look, but again a short answer “Complicated” with a short sigh. I couldn’t help by try to get a little more out of him, so I had to ask. “Would you like to elaborate?” He answered quickly with again a blank expression “Nope” Which was no surprise to me. Well believe it or not I actually felt like I got somewhere with my interrogation, and decided that was enough. I needed to derive some kind of plan before any pushback could occur, since I still had like 45 minutes left I figured I could just talk for a bit expecting no answers. “So… I guess I’m in a bit of a pickle here. First of all since there is no clear signs of any actual emergency, and second I really don’t see any actual danger or even a problem really, with your choice of underwear, I don’t think I will satisfy your mother’s requirements for improvement. But I think I can deal with that. However I can understand to some degree her discomfort in your choice of underwear, and I don’t think you should make it any of her business. To be completely honest, I really don’t know much about what is called Infantilism. Which seems to be the condition you display. So my first plan is to try to gather as much information as possible on the topic, as to best support you.” I paused for a few moments as he blankly looked back at me. “Once again I particularly don’t care about your bathroom habits or your choice of underwear but, I also feel that your life can become more comfortable if you were to at least consider to conceal your underwear, especially around your mother, and my job is to help make your life better.” I thought about it a few seconds and looked at Mike, who maintained his nonchalant appearance. I felt like it was good advice. However I also realized it was not any solution. I sat quietly for a long minute or so. I really didn’t expect Mike to respond, but at this point I really had nothing else to say. So that’s exactly what I said. “At this point I really don’t have anything to say, if you want to talk or elaborate in any way I am here to listen. We still have about a half hour left so just make your self comfortable, if you should need a bathroom feel free to use the restroom in the entryway.” I gave him a small smile with that. For the next 1/2 hour we sat quietly. I thought about how exactly to help this situation, and even though I didn’t think it was a dangerous situation in anyway, or there was any harm in wearing diapers. I couldn’t help but think a healthy functioning adult would not want to wear diapers. My first thought was why, and I decided that the only way to find out was to try it myself. Soon enough as I pondered, the large sedan pulled back into my driveway I sighed slightly as I turned up to look at Mike now with his eyes closed, saying calmly. “You’re mother is back Mike” I remained seated and watched Mike slowly open his eyes stand up and wobble slowly towards the door, as he got to my entry way he stopped pulled his sweat pants up over the waist band of his diaper and tightened the draw string then pulled his T-shirt down. I thought well that’s a start. I simply said “thanks Mike” My front door was again pushed open and Mrs. Crull commanded my attention as her heals clacked against my hard wood floor. She wasn’t even completely through the front door before saying “At least I can’t see his pissy diaper” as she looked at her son. She continued to walk towards me and past her son with effortless motion as I started to say “Hello Mrs. Crull can I have” but I was interrupted as she grumbled “Go wait in the car” which was obviously directed towards Mike. She stopped in the center of my office and dug briefly into her purse. I couldn’t help but study her as it became quiet for a bit. The best word to describe her was perfect. Her blond hair wrapped perfectly around her head, down just past her shoulders. Her make up was blended perfectly without even the slightest blemish, while outlining each feature perfectly. Her pale pink business suit formed around her body perfectly, leaving just the top of her cleavage exposed, highlighted perfectly by a very expensive looking necklace. Every part of her was manicured or manufactured precisely for her today. I really couldn’t say how old she was, somewhere between 40 and 60 I’d guess. I however wouldn’t use the word attractive. I couldn’t help but think, it must be tough to maintain. I barely started a sentence as I was again interrupted. “You are highly recommended, which comes with high expectations, which will be difficult to achieve. Today is Monday, and I expect for you to see my son again on Thursday at 3 pm and every Thursday at 3 until further notice. I will not be accompanying him. Here is a check for 100,000 dollars, with this I expect to see real results in the next 10 weeks. You do understand who I am. I expect complete anonymity, if I so much as hear my name and yours in the same sentence, or you don’t live up to expectations, let’s just say you’re life will become much less comfortable.” She placed the check on my desk as I stood there dumbly with my mouth still open. Without any hesitation her heals clacked against my hardwood floors as she walked directly out of my house. I collected myself briefly and picked up her check, and looked at the 5 zeros following the 1, realizing the check was as real as the threat. I turned to see my wife with a very surprised look on her face, say “what are you going to do?” My answer was quick “going to the store” as I handed her the check and headed for the front door which was still open. She hesitated slightly then asked “for what?” And I responded “Diapers” as I shut the front door behind me. Chapter 2 A half hour later I hustled up the stairs to my bedroom, with a package of adult diapers under my arm. I quickly kicked off my pants, and underwear as I ripped open the package, flopping onto my bed, and sliding a diaper out of the pack. I could hear Maureen calling ”Jon? Are you here?” As she made her way up the stairs. I flipped the flimsy plastic material this way, and that as I unfolded the thin padded garment in front of me. Finally I slid the diaper underneath me, and struggled to see what exactly to stretch around me. I looked up as my wife stood in the doorway, with a smirk on her face. “Jon relax… it’s not running away!” She said with a chuckle. I fell back in frustration to the bed, as Maureen pushed my knees apart, that hung over the edge. She pulled at the diaper, saying “lift your bum… Jon I know this is important but you need to calm down… you have 10 weeks and I’m sure you’ll work this out” while she spoke, she calmly nudged my butt back to rest on the diaper, before finishing her sentence she folded it over my groin, and I could hear the tapes as she wrapped it around me, and finished the process with a light pat on my penis. I knew she was right, but I wasn’t feeling too patient. I stood next to the bed, and stretched about a bit trying to figure out how to make it fit. I looked down at the garment, trying to understand why anyone would want to wear such a silly thing. It wasn’t comfortable, and crinkled loudly as I moved. I looked at myself in the mirror, it looked medical, and sloppy with a blue line running down the center, and extra plastic hanging off the edges, nothing about it even seemed childish. My wife looked at me still with a light smile saying “what do ya think?” The first response I could come up with was “I don’t think I am going to understand this, I can’t see why anyone would want to wear one of these” her face kinda fell, as she asked “well what are you going to do?” I shrugged in responded “keep wearing them” she rolled her eyes, and turned to leave as she replied “ok sounds like a good plan” with a good bit of sarcasm in her tone. Then on her way down the stairs she continued to say “Why don’t you put some pants on and come down to dinner” I sat down in my normal spot at the kitchen table, as she set my dinner in front of me, and noticed her iPad, and cell phone across the table. My wife taking a more serious tone continued our conversation. “So Jon… I couldn’t help but overhear the delightful Mrs. Crull’s…. Threat? And since this particular situation will most likely impact both of our…lifestyles significantly, and it does seem to have, well let’s just say it appears you may need a little help. I decided to do a little research on this… subject on my own.” Typical I don’t get my wife to involved with therapy techniques, or any kind of diagnosis of my patients. I don’t want to degrade her in anyway, but I am a highly educated psychologist, not to mention quite accomplished, and she is really good at accounting, and business. However she is correct in that this could potentially effect both of our lives drastically. So in this case I have no option but to listen to her “research”, and replied “what ya got?” She started flipping through her iPad as she spoke. “Well I don’t know what our Mikey had to say today, but it seems he is into something they call ABDL, which stands for adult baby diaper lovers. Now it seems there are several sites on the internet that people like him join. Where they actively engage in a multitude of things…like sharing stories, and reviewing products, or whatever. There definitely seems to be quite a few people interested in this, like this site has almost 60,000 members. There doesn’t seem to be any typical age, or sex, looking through a few profiles there’s girls and boys of all ages. It also, looks like there is two different… uh kinks? kinda I mean they’re obviously related, but some are like just into the diaper thing, so they’re DLs, and they don’t seem to be into the baby thing, and others are, like more into, I guess you might say regression, making them ABs. So do you think our Mikey is a AB or a DL?” I was in the middle of chewing my food, and carefully paused a bit. A couple things that jumped in my head bothered me. First I didn’t really like referring to my patient as, “our Mikey” I don’t know why but it just bothered me. Next I didn’t think basing my psychological research on some kinda fetish website was a good idea, we needed actual psychological research done by actual professionals, but there was no way I could tell my wife, that her information seemed irrelevant, not that she would let me anyway. So I thought for another second and answered, as I swallowed my food. “Well given his childish t-shirt, and his answer to the question I asked him. Do you want to be a child? And I quote “complicated” I’d say he’s more AB.” My wife seemed to be processing that information for a few seconds, while again scanning, and flipping through her iPad. “Well I guess we can go with that… but there seems to be a slight divide in this group as well. Some seem to find the uh… situation? As uh well sexy… while others seem to just find it… comforting? Or maybe relieving, and a few of those seem to think it’s… I guess you might say inappropriate to find it sexy. So do you think Mike finds it sexy?” She smiled a touch as she finished her question. My response was pretty quick having no reason to delay. “Well I know it’s not much to go on, because I only got one word answers out of him, but I did actually ask him exactly that, and his response was ‘sometimes’ so there’s that” She stopped looking at her iPad and even had a pleasant look of accomplishment while she summarized. “Well given that, I’d say our Mikey seems to be a adult baby that finds it sexy” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her, thinking very scientific diagnosis, but I didn’t think it would help much to reply. I finished my dinner quietly, then felt the familiar pressure of having to pee. I stood up, and causualy made my way towards the bathroom, when it dawned on me I was wearing a diaper. I turned towards my wife as she cleaned up the dishes, and , said “I have to pee” She gave me a quick so-what look but stopped, and replied “oh…ya…uh well, so what are you going to do?” I knew that the situation was inevitable, but I really didn’t have a plan, besides I had to try to figure out why, or what was so attractive about wearing a diaper. So this is definitely part of that. I gave her a questioning look, and said. “I guess I will use this thing.” I stood there awkwardly trying to figure out what was the best position for this, and slowly spread my legs slightly looking down at my pants. I tried to release the building pressure, but nothing happened. My wife watched with a curious smile, as I tried, eventually saying “well?” My response was immediate. “I just can’t do it!” “What do you mean, you can’t do it?” “I don’t know…it just won’t go” She laughed a bit, and replied “well maybe you don’t have to go” “I sure feel like I have to… it just won’t come out” “Maybe it’s a head thing… go stand by the toilet, and try there” I gave her a exasperated look, and walked up to my bathroom, lifted the seat, and unbuttoned my pants, then felt the unfamiliar plastic where my penis usually is. Finally with a light grunt I felt a stream flow. I turned to see my wife standing at the door now with a wide smile spread across her face. “What’s so fucking funny?” I grumbled. As I felt the warm liquid fill around my groin. She only shook her head and chucked in response. I tilted my head back, and sighed as I heard the weird hissing noise, as pee sprayed against the inside of the diaper. I could feel a puddle forming in between my legs. Then suddenly I felt liquid escaping around the inside of my thigh. I panicked, and tried to stop my flow, but I couldn’t, then I felt pee rolling down my other thigh as I struggled to grab or prevent the diaper from leaking, calling out “it’s leaking!! The stupid thing is leaking!!” My wife laughed out loud as I pulled my pants below my knees seeing the yellow liquid flow down the inside of my legs, and darkening my pants, as I continued to pee. Finally I clinched shut as pee soaked into my socks. My wife laughing, and saying “Oh calm down Jon… it’s just a little pee… we’ll have this cleaned up in no time” I grunted in response as I stepped onto each pant leg, and pull my legs out, then repeated the process with my socks. “The stupid thing leaked.. what the fuck… why would... this is so stupid!” Saying as I released the tabs on the diaper letting it fall with a thunk. I finished undressing, and climbed in the shower as my wife picked up the mess, and asked, “what are you going to do now?” I thought for a moment as I turned on the shower… what was I going to do? The check for 100,000 dollars shot in my head, and the very real threat that came with all that money, I had no choice. I had to figure this out. I had to find a way to connect with Mike, we we’re going to solve this together. I harshly replied “What am I going to do? I’m going to keep wearing them.” My wife again replied with a sarcastic response, “Ya great plan… keep wearing them” The next couple days dragged by. I continued to wear the diapers and gradually was able to wet them without standing in front of the toilet, but it wasn’t easy. I had to try to release my pee, then had to really focus, and not to pee too much. I reduced my fluid intake, and tried to pee as soon as I felt any pressure. So occasionally when I got that right, and I didn’t leak, it felt like I was sitting in a puddle. There wasn’t anything even a little pleasant about wearing a wet diaper. On top of that I searched for any real research on paraphilic infantilism, which is the condition Mike displayed. However there was very minimal research documented, and any studies concluded that it was caused by various underlying issues with no evidence of any cure. So I was going to have to figure this out completely on my own. If this didn’t seem bad enough. I had my wife who seemed to find the situation amusing. Chapter 3 So as Thursday afternoon rolled around, my plan was to show Mike, I was willing to wear a diaper, and see where that went. Not a great plan. I sat in my office feeling slightly anxious as a newer Audi pulled in my driveway. Mike slowly, and carefully slid from the drivers seat, pulled a back pack over his shoulder, and walked awkwardly up the sidewalk with his legs spread out as far as possible. I rolled my eyes as I thought, this couldn’t be good. What could possibly be wrong now. He shoved through the front door, and waddled towards me with a look of discomfort. I quickly said “Hi Mike how’s it” but he interrupted me “Can I use your bathroom?” I pointed to the restroom still in the foyer, and he stumbled by, and shut the door. Then the smell hit me, and it became obvious what the problem was. I shut the front door, giving it a couple waves in hopes to clear the air, and returned to sit, and wait in my office. About 10 minutes later Mike finally appeared. He walked directly out onto the front porch, and left a small, heavy looking trash bag outside, and shut the front door, then he much more smoothly walked into my office, and sat on the couch, without saying a word. I noticed he now had no expression of discomfort, or really any discernible emotion at all. So I started the appointment. “Hello Mike how’s things going?” Which he only shrugged in response. “Well so I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to wear diapers so, I tried it myself, in fact I’ve been wearing them all week” I finally got some reaction from him, and he looked at me as if I poked him with a pin. “You’re wearing one now?” I stood up, and pulled my pants down a bit exposing the diaper, as I replied “Yup” “You’ve been wearing those diapers all week?” Mike quickly asked with a questioning expression Again I said “Yup” “And you have been using those diapers?.. for anything at all?” I couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned, and stuttered a bit “well ya… ya I’ve been uh…wetting them” He paused in thought, and his expression changed again to more of a mischievous look asking. “So you’re telling me that you’ve been wearing THOSE diapers all week, and you have been peeing in them?” My concerns continued to grow, thinking where is this going, but I slowly nodded, and said “Yes” A smile grew across his face like he was a attorney, and just won the big case, and asked “and how’s that been going for you?” I could tell he was definitely up to something, and knew I had to answer completely honestly. “Well to be honest.. horribly, first they’re hot, and itchy generally uncomfortable as hell, then I can’t get use to wetting them at all, sometimes I have to go stand in front of the toilet before I can even go. Then I can’t pee too much because they leak right away, then if I am able to wet them, without leaks they feel like I’m sitting in a warm puddle until it gets cold which is worse. I can’t understand why anyone would want to wear them.” Mike seemed thoroughly entertained by my review, as he replied he started digging into his backpack. “I can’t believe you’re wearing a diaper! That’s so funny…I’ve never had a therapist or whatever do that, and you’re totally right about those cheap ass store brand diapers, they totally suck. I don’t even know why they make those (He held out his hand with what looked like a thick stack of diapers) here try these.. there’s only three of them there, but they last a lot longer and they’re so much more comfy” I was so excited to be connecting with him, I would have taken a handful of used diapers, my plan was working we we’re going to be best friends in no time. I leaned forward to accept his gift, and replied. “Are you sure you don’t need them?” “Nope you’re good. I got cases of them, I’m going 24/7 so it’s best not to run low, but they might be a bit big on you, if you want you can get a smaller size online at medical supply stores, and if you try you can even get them the next day” I took the stack of diapers, and could instantly feel they were much better quality, like thick, and sturdy but the outer cover was soft, I couldn’t believe there were only three diapers, the same size stack would probably be 10 of the ones I was wearing. “Ok thanks I’ll check it out” I paused for a second, and wanted to keep the conversation going so I needed something more to discuss, and asked. “24/7 what’s that mean?” “Oh 24/7? That means wearing a diaper 24 hour a day 7 days a week…everything in a diaper” “Geez that’s quite a commitment, I don’t think I could do that.” “Ya it’s tough… this time I’m going on almost 2 months, but I can’t say that a few times I didn’t think that regular underwear would be easier, but this is the longest I’ve made it yet.” My mind cheered with enthusiasm, not only were we really connecting. but I could see a real possibility that he would get back into underwear soon. I had to keep my cool though I couldn’t push too hard, but I needed more information. “I have a hard time just being able to pee in the diaper, it would be real hard to do this for two months” He was eager to share his experience and quickly answered. “Well confidence in your diaper goes a long way, just drink lots of water, and it gets easier over time. I can pretty much pee whenever ….but also I use hypnotic recordings, I just listen to one as I go to sleep. I am not certain they work, or maybe I haven’t found the right one, but you can find tons of them for free online” My mind just hoped to the next question I had to keep him talking, and he seems really interested in helping me. “Hypnotic recordings? How would that help?” “I think the key is to actually need your diaper, so you have to wear diapers, it’s supposed to do that, but I don’t think I have had a actual accident yet.” I looked at him in shock realizing he was trying to become completely incontinent. The next sentence just feel from my mouth. “Why would you want that?” I regretted it as soon as I said it, and it wasn’t just the question. It was my facial expression of disgust, my ridiculing tone of voice. I totally fucked up. I could see his face drop, his realization that he was talking to a psychologist, then he said the word that I hated to hear. “Whatever” I tried to apologize but I new it was over. We sat quietly for the rest of the appointment, and about 10 til 4 he slowly picked himself off my couch, and slowly walked towards the door. I had to say something before he left, but the best I could come up with was “Mike I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to offend you” Mike slowly turned back, and gave me a sad look “I know Doc… maybe I’m just a little sensitive… I’ll see you next week” I just nodded in response. As Mike backed out of the driveway. I just sat there in thought, I had to fix this, how could I be so stupid, I had to find a way to reconnect, at least I think he’s giving me another shot.

Cherry coke is about the only flavor of cola I can take. Vanilla or other flavors including cream is something I don't care for. Just plain cola flavor for me, and I do like Dr. Pepper. A hint, Mikey, if you aren't already doing so. I know sugar free soda isn't good for people either, but if they have it it could be better for your overall health, and caffeen free soda might help you sleep better at night since you have been having issues sleeping lately. Just trying to help you feel better.

All I will say in response is intentions are one thing execution is another and execution is sub par. As I said this story is homophobic that might not be the intended result but by making the choices explore what was explored and omissions of counter arguments, and a failure to explore them and to only hear from one side the homophobic side and leaving the characters in a point where they are told homosexual is bad leaves the story in a place where the characters believe that then themselves become homophobic then with no counter message and no debate the audience is left with the same message as well. This is not something I would put up for argument or is a matter of opinion like rest of the issues with the story this is something that is factual this story although unintended ended up being homophobic. And no that's not being said because of some simplified argument religion equals homophobic no far from it cause you cam be religious and queer etc it's because there are massive fundamental issues in how the two subjects were handled debated and concluded which lead to that outcome because that is how the debate was set up in this instance and this is why you need to be very careful with the theming and text and subtext with writing as a simple issue of bad pacing can create a complete a complete destruction of those areas.

[I have one final chapter to share—an epilogue of sorts—to bring gentle closure, so the story doesn’t end on a cliff’s edge.] First off—I have to say I was surprised. The range and eloquence of the responses caught me off guard. I expected something quieter. Maybe a shrug. Maybe polite disinterest. Not this. So, thank you. Most of this story was written in the dead hours of airport lounges. I travel for work—a lot. And somewhere between flights and gate changes, my imagination got the better of me. What started as a light exploration of character and circumstance quickly became something deeper. A story I probably shouldn’t have started, but one I couldn’t stop writing. The rabbit hole kept going, and I followed. The chapters you’ve read—especially the recent ones—are my way of mirroring what’s gone through my mind during those long, quiet stretches of waiting. Sally’s growth became a vehicle for me to explore themes I was already wrestling with. Her journey, while just a few days long in the timeline of the story, unfolded for me over the course of several months. Her sudden end wasn’t a twist for shock’s sake—it was a writer’s decision to give her what she’d been craving from the very beginning: closure, transformation, and peace. And yes, it was sudden. But that’s how it happens sometimes, in real life too. And maybe, more than anything, I wanted to leave behind a thread of hope—for Sally’s parents, for Patricia, Charlie, Jana… and maybe for a few readers, too. Here are my responses: Thank you for taking the time to write this, and for engaging so deeply with the story, even in frustration. It deserves a thoughtful answer. First, I want to strongly push back on the accusation of homophobia. That was never the intent, and if any part of the story gave that impression, I take that seriously. Sally’s journey is told through her personal lens—her discoveries, doubts, fears, and beliefs. It was never meant to be a platform to vilify or exclude anyone. It’s true that Jana, as a character, speaks bluntly and holds firm beliefs, but she is not the moral compass of the story. She is, like all the characters, flawed and still growing. That we see more of her perspective than Clara’s is not an intentional dismissal of Clara’s side, but a gap I acknowledge could have been better handled. I also agree that Clara’s voice deserved more presence and dignity in the narrative. She wasn’t erased on purpose—her story simply didn’t get the space it needed to evolve alongside Sally’s. That’s a weakness, and I own that. Some of this story has grown organically, without a master plan, often written in quiet moments during travel. It became personal, sometimes more about the themes that preoccupied me than about perfect structural storytelling. I don’t excuse that, but I hope it explains some of the imbalance. As for the pacing and what you called a “character assassination,” I hear you. Sally’s arc did accelerate—and perhaps jarringly so. It was never meant to be a “conversion story” or a didactic piece. It became, unintentionally, a reflection of urgency and longing for meaning, especially in the face of mortality. The ending was not written to shock, but to mirror how unpredictable and unfair life can be, even for the young, the loved, the wealthy. I understand if that shift felt like a betrayal of the story’s early tone. But at no point did I set out to manipulate readers or sacrifice character for belief. If the message overshadowed the story, then I failed to do what good writing should do: let the characters breathe, speak for themselves, and wrestle authentically with the world. This critique is not only fair—it’s necessary. Thank you again for holding this story to a higher standard. It’s challenged me to look at it with new eyes. That’s beautifully said, and it gets to the heart of Sally’s transformation. You’re right—Sally is impressionable. She’s fifteen. She’s curious, emotional, still trying to understand who she is. But being impressionable doesn’t mean she’s easily fooled. It means she’s open. And the truth is, she wasn’t searching for something to believe in because she was empty or naïve—she was searching because the life she had, as full and privileged as it was, didn’t answer the deeper ache. Sally had all the tools to change the world: wealth, access, influence, intelligence. She could’ve thrown herself into philanthropy, into activism, into reinvention. And maybe she would have. But what struck her wasn’t a cause—it was a Person. And that encounter, that stillness, that depth of truth she found when everything else was stripped away… that is what moved her. Not hype. Not pressure. Something real. Something she didn’t just fall into—it called to her. Her faith didn’t erase her friends or her complexity. It complicated everything. It made her question her relationships, her role in the world, even her own desires. Yes, she feared losing Erika. Yes, she grieved the thought of hurting Clara. These are not footnotes to her journey—they are proof that her heart was engaged the whole way through. Was her conversion sudden? Yes. But not shallow. It cost her. It scared her. And yet, she moved forward. Because something greater was asking for her full yes. And she gave it. If Sally’s life ended as the story tells—then it wasn’t because she gave up. It was because she gave everything. That isn’t tragedy. That’s glory. But no matter where the story goes from here, thank you for reading Sally so deeply. For seeing her not just as a character, but as a person with real struggles, and real beauty. Thanks for your thoughtful and honest response—it’s the kind of feedback that deserves a real answer. You’re not wrong in noticing a shift. The story definitely took a turn—from a slice-of-life about Sally’s friendships, struggles, and quirks, into something far more introspective, spiritual, and, yes, dramatic. That wasn’t a bait-and-switch, though. It wasn’t a plan to “convert” readers or sneak in some kind of personal manifesto. It was the story growing legs and taking me somewhere unexpected. Sally’s character demanded more than just a surface exploration. And once she started asking deeper questions about herself and the world, I followed. As for the diaper element—it didn’t disappear out of shame or rejection, and it certainly wasn’t a “purge.” Sally’s need for them remained part of her identity to the very end. But like anything else in a story about growth, that need changed in relevance. Her world got bigger, her struggles more complex. The diapers became one thread in a much wider fabric. They weren’t erased, just reframed—like so many childhood things are when someone starts facing adulthood, mortality, purpose, and faith. This story was always about Sally. About a girl who had everything, and yet found herself longing for more than comfort or control. Was it personal? Sure. Every story is, to some degree. But it wasn’t a parable or a pitch. I wasn’t asking anyone to change. I was just letting Sally change. You’re absolutely right that many come to this forum expecting certain themes to remain front and center. And it’s fair to feel let down when a story shifts its gears. I respect that. But I hope you can also appreciate that this wasn’t a shift out of disrespect or baiting. It was just honest storytelling, following where the character led—even if it wasn’t where she—or we—originally expected to go. Thanks again for reading. Truly. Exactly because your life feels “disgusting” right now, you’re the kind of person most qualified to receive the kind of love and restoration believers like Sally found. That sounds backward, I know—but it’s real. Paradise was never meant for the shiny, well-put-together people who’ve got life all figured out. It’s for the bruised. The tired. The angry. The ones who’ve tried to fix things and failed. The ones who feel forgotten or worn out or completely done. You’re not disqualified—you’re exactly the kind of person invited. Not out of pity, but out of purpose. That ache you feel? That’s not a barrier. That’s the open wound that can finally start to heal. And you’re not expected to “feel better” on command. You don’t have to clean up, make sense of everything, or snap into belief. You’re allowed to be where you are. Angry. Confused. Raw. That’s actually a more honest starting point than people who come in with a script and a smile. And comfort? It’s not always immediate. Not always fireworks. Sometimes it’s just someone holding your hand in the dark and not letting go—even if you don’t feel them yet. Faith isn’t magic. It’s not a vending machine. But if you’ve ever longed for home and never found it—then trust me, you’re closer than you think. You’re not disqualified. You’re the guest of honor. Thank you. Truly. That was one of the most generous and thoughtful responses I’ve received, and it means a lot—especially coming at this point in the story, when I know emotions are running high for everyone, including me. You’re right—Sally’s transformation came fast. Maybe too fast in terms of pacing. But emotionally? Spiritually? I think she’d already been on the brink for some time. The cracks were forming way before the hospital, before the Bible, before Honest Offering. This wasn’t a clean plot pivot—it was a slow unraveling finally meeting the moment that demanded surrender. Her surrender. And your reading of her faith—not to judge, not to preach, but to find strength and hope—that is exactly what I hoped would shine through. Not a crusade. Not a lecture. Just a girl, overwhelmed by the weight and beauty of grace, reaching toward something true. I’m honored that it touched something in you. Now, your structured criticism? Absolutely fair. The shift in tone was sharp. The death, abrupt. If it felt rushed, it’s because maybe, in some ways, I rushed it emotionally too. Not for lack of care—but because sometimes we feel the end before we see it. I wrote a story about a girl who was never supposed to die. Until I realized that, in a deeper sense, she never would. The girl who searched so hard for peace found it. And it changed the story from being about her life to being about what her life meant. To the people she left behind. To the world that watched. I understand the sadness, the frustration. You wanted more. So did I. And yet—maybe that’s the point. We always want more time with the ones we love. But if Sally had to go… I wanted her to go ready. Strong. Redeemed. Radiant. And no, this might not be the end. Sally’s story may have reached a final chapter on earth, but her impact is just beginning. Her legacy will ripple. Through Jana. Through Patricia. Through Charlie. Even through Bridget and Adrian. This world isn’t done grieving—or growing. And neither am I. Thank you again, for the privilege of being read this deeply. I hope I’ve honored your trust. Thank you for saying this—and saying it with such grace. You’re absolutely right: belief is personal. Deeply so. And it should never be wielded like a weapon. In this story, I’ve tried—imperfectly, I’m sure—to reflect that belief can be both beautiful and raw. Not a hammer, not a sales pitch, not a script. Just a journey. Sally’s journey. I appreciate you recognizing that I’ve never asked anyone to believe what she believes. I’ve only asked you to see her. To walk beside her as she wrestles, searches, surrenders. And it’s okay if that resonates, and okay if it doesn’t. I welcome the dialogue, the pushback, and the wide range of responses—even if they hurt sometimes. But your voice here reminds me that it’s worth it to tell stories that risk something. That try. So thank you, sincerely. For reading. For standing up. For kindness. -- Let me end with something I’ve been holding close as I’ve read through these responses—both the ones that challenged me and the ones that reached out in support. There is a profound difference between following Christianity and following Christ. That distinction may seem subtle, but it’s the difference between religion as a system and Christ as a person. Between structure and spirit. Between performance and transformation. It’s the gap where so many stumble, including those who carry the name Christian but forget the love, humility, and honesty of the one they claim to follow. Even Christians—especially Christians—can get this wrong. The loud ones, the judgmental ones, the politicized ones. They often miss the quiet center: Christ, who welcomed sinners, defended the outcast, and offered grace before anyone asked for it. Who called the religious elite “whitewashed tombs” and spoke tenderly to a thief as they both hung dying. Sally’s faith—if we must judge it—shouldn’t be measured by what label it carries or how fast it bloomed. It should be measured by what it revealed in her: humility, hunger, and a surrender not to doctrine, but to a person she believed loved her more deeply than the world ever could. That’s not fake. That’s not bankrupt. And it’s not afraid. It’s faith stripped down to its rawest, most honest form. Not perfect. Not polished. But real. If that offends, I accept it. If it invites questions, I welcome them. If it points—ever so faintly—to something greater than any story I could write, then maybe it was worth writing after all. Thank you for walking with me through this story. Wherever it landed with you, thank you for listening. -- Charlie’s words to Sally were simple, quiet, but carried surprising weight. When she hesitated with the new Bible Patricia had given her—unsure where to begin, overwhelmed by the size of it and the depth it hinted at—Charlie, sitting in the backseat of Patricia’s car, spoke up: “Start with the Gospels,” he said. “Start with Jesus.” It was a soft moment. A nudge, not a sermon. But it was the moment Sally’s journey truly began. Later, after she had devoured Matthew, Mark, and Luke in just two days, overwhelmed and stirred, she’d remember his words and whisper to herself, “Start with Jesus.” And she did. And it changed everything.

I'm ok either way.

Hey you, if you kill Sally I'll drive 8000 miles and come find you

Here is a page from the 1955 Sears catalog, plastic panties are at the bottom. https://christmas.musetechnical.com/ShowCatalogPage/1955-Sears-Spring-Summer-Catalog/0305 No rubber panties to be found.

Crinklz again tonight. Having surprisingly good luck with the tapes on this bag so far. Though I've also come across what might be my solution for Crinklz in general --- a landing zone! I bought this 5" wide clear tape. It arrived today... so had to put it to the test right away. So far it seems to be doing really well. I just need to figure out some means to hold the wings out taught so I can apply it without wrinkles on my Crinklz. 🤪

We tend to get stuff slowly down here in the deep south too. Always takes a couple weeks after "in store now" to get to our stores, and longer to be in-stock if its good!

I used to use vaseline.... but it affected absorbency too much. To replace it, I was originally using hand lotion (wouldn't look "sus" buying that at the store)... but then switched to baby lotion. I usually get the giant "jugs" at the warehouse store (though Amazon or Walmart are both good alternative sources). Extra benefit .... makes you smell "legit".

Interesting - I just encountered this in a Walmart a few days ago. Haven't tried it yet - usually we don't get new stuff up here in the Frozen North until quite a while after you guys do. I'll have to see if maybe the XXL Goodnites are making it up here, too! And, try the Orange Cream Coke - although I think it might have been Coke Zero, if memory serves.

Thanks to @spoonchicken for making a monster donation of $150!

Does that also mean you're going to give me 30 diaper pats?😏 Thank you so much my little baby wolf! It was an awesome birthday! Filled with cake and love and lots of presents!😊❤️😃🫂

Thanks for the continuity updates! There were a bit challenging to find at times. Searching for the word 'generic' let me find most of them (I think). I quoted the new section to make it easier to find for others. The section after it starts with "The next few days". So it takes place at the beginning of the week (likely the evening after she started wearing the pull-ups): Spoiler (I wanted to add a proper spoiler, but couldn't figure out how...)

You might well be correct but karma doesn't always happen... except in American sit-coms and all kids react differently to what they are faced with. These parents have been particularly cunning. School is on a long break and they can unveil their plans with hardly any one else being in the least bit involved. However, maybe the guilt Robbie is carrying he might well believe this is something he deserves... or is at least preferable to the vicious alternative. Thanks for your comments.... they are much appreciated. Hug I'll try to put the updates online at regular intervals... hopefully at least once a week... maybe more. Hmmmm... let's see how the relationship develops between the family once they get to their destination. Thanks to all my readers and those who comment. a HUGE HUG to each and all. :Les

1. Avoid materila less than 4 mil 2. The more pairs you have, the longer each will last since you will take longer to get back to the beginning of the scyle 3. Do NOT use real soap. That contains animal fats that are destructive to the material. See the care section in RUBBER PANTIES 'R' US. You can use dish detergent since detergents use molecular action to remove dirt contaminants. You could use the bubble bath from the RUFFLES & RIBBONS GIRLS' HOME BabyDoll Personal Care Even the BabyDoll Bath, Body and Baby Oil, unlike the rest of the baby oils, is rubber panty safe, having been tested by 3 days constant contact with the material from Comco http://other.sandralyn.net/weloverubberpanties.html

Introducing Emma and Kelsey! I'm going to be posting stories about them on my Ream or SubStar! _______________________ CSI: Daycare: When Your Fiancé is Your Daycare Teacher Part 1: The Mystery Begins 25-year-old Emma stood by the edge of daycare the playroom, her cheeks glowing red as she fidgeted with her fingers. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the faint crinkle of her diaper beneath her onesie betraying her every nervous movement. This was not going to be easy. Every part of her wanted to turn around and bolt for the nap mats, but she knew Kelsey, her daycare teacher and fiancé, would find her eventually. Better to get this over with. Taking a deep breath, she shuffled toward Kelsey, who was tidying up some art supplies. Kelsey looked up as Emma approached, her warm smile immediately making Emma feel safe and loved, even if she was about to make a complete fool of herself. “Hey, Bunny,” Kelsey said gently, using her pet name for Emma. “What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” Emma avoided eye contact, twiddling her fingers as her blush deepened. “I, um, don’t want to point fingers,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, “but someone wet this diaper, like, a lot.” Kelsey raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. “Oh? Someone wet the diaper you’re wearing right now?” she asked, tilting her head in playful curiosity. Emma nodded, her eyes glued to the floor. “Yep. It wasn’t me, though,” she added quickly. “I mean, I just go to daycare here. Not really fair to expect me to solve all the mysteries, you know?” Kelsey couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. She chuckled softly and crouched down to Emma’s eye level, her hands resting on her knees. “Well, that does sound like a mystery. Who do you think it could have been?” Emma shrugged, finally daring to look up at Kelsey. “I dunno. Probably some toddler, maybe Milo. He’s always up to something.” “Milo, huh?” Kelsey said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “But how would Milo get into your diaper, Bunny? That seems like a tricky feat.” Emma crossed her arms, pouting slightly. “I don’t know, Kels. I’m just saying someone did it, and it wasn’t me.” Kelsey stood up, still grinning. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to get to the bottom of this. But first, let’s get you to the changing table, okay?” Emma hesitated, her blush intensifying. “Um… also,” she added, her voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper, “still not pointing fingers or anything, but someone pooped this pamper too. Like, a lot.” Kelsey put a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Oh no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s a serious crime. A wet and poopy diaper? This is getting out of hand.” Emma nodded solemnly, clearly trying to keep her composure. “Yep. Big mess. But again, not my fault.” “Well, Bunny,” Kelsey said, taking Emma’s hand and leading her toward the changing area, “we’re going to have to get to the bottom of your poopy diaper bottom. But here’s the problem: if I change you now, we’ll destroy all the evidence. How am I supposed to solve the case if I don’t have any clues?” Emma groaned, realizing she had inadvertently turned her cute diaper change joke into an elaborate detective game. She’d hoped Kelsey would just laugh it off and get the change over with, but now it was clear she’d underestimated her fiancée’s love of theatrics. As they reached the changing table, Kelsey turned to Emma with a determined look. “Alright, Bunny. I’m officially on the case. Detective Kelsey is here to solve the mystery of the wet and poopy diaper.” Emma rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile a little. “Great. Just what I needed.” Forensics Kelsey pulled a magnifying glass from the toy bin nearby, holding it up to her eye as she examined Emma’s diaper with exaggerated seriousness. “Hmm,” she murmured, squatting down slightly to get a closer look. “Heavy saturation. Clearly, someone’s been drinking a lot of juice.” Emma covered her face with her hands, her muffled voice protesting, “Kelsey, stop! This is so embarrassing!” Kelsey ignored her, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Now, let’s see… the poopy part. Hmm, yes. Classic signs of a well-fed daycare bunny. Carrots, maybe some applesauce…” She stood up and pointed dramatically at Emma. “This is a sophisticated mess, Bunny. Someone knew what they were doing.” Emma groaned. “Kelsey, just change me already!” “Oh no, no, no,” Kelsey said, wagging her finger. “This isn’t just a diaper change. This is a crime scene. We need to interview some witnesses.” Before Emma could protest, Kelsey turned toward the playroom and called out, “Alright, everyone! Detective Kelsey is on the case! If you’ve seen anything suspicious, please come forward!” Emma’s jaw dropped as several toddlers toddled over, their curiosity piqued. Tessa, one of the daycare assistants, raised an eyebrow from across the room. “Do I even want to know what’s going on?” she asked. “It’s fine,” Emma muttered, covering her face again. “It’s just Kelsey being Kelsey.” Canvassing for Witnesses Kelsey crouched down to the toddlers’ level, holding up the magnifying glass like a seasoned detective. “Alright, kids,” she said, her voice serious. “Have any of you seen anything strange today? Anyone sneaking around Emma’s diaper?” One of the toddlers, a boy named Milo, pointed at another child. “She took my blocks!” “Noted,” Kelsey said, scribbling in an imaginary notepad. “But we’re looking for diaper-related crimes. Anyone else?” Another toddler piped up, “Emma stinky!” Emma groaned louder, burying her face in her hands. “Kelsey, please!” Kelsey straightened up, nodding solemnly. “Thank you, everyone. Your cooperation has been invaluable.” Part 2: Investigating the Crime Scene The toddlers had dispersed, but Emma was certain she’d never recover from the indignity of having her poopy diaper turned into daycare gossip. She peeked through her fingers at Kelsey, who was now pacing dramatically. “This is no ordinary case, Bunny,” Kelsey announced, spinning on her heel to face Emma. “We’re dealing with a perpetrator who operates in broad daylight, right under everyone’s noses. A serial offender, perhaps.” Emma groaned loudly. “Kelsey, just change me already!” “Oh no,” Kelsey said, shaking her head. “We’re far from done. The trail is fresh. The evidence is overwhelming. We must act swiftly if we’re to catch the culprit.” Emma let her hands fall to her sides, her face bright red. “Kelsey, please,” she whispered. “You’re going to make me die of embarrassment.” Kelsey crouched down to Emma’s eye level, her face serious but her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Bunny,” she said softly, “this is serious. I’m taking this case all the way to the top.” Before Emma could respond, Kelsey straightened up and turned toward the daycare staff. Tessa was wiping down a table nearby, her bright smile faltering slightly as Kelsey marched toward her. Questioning the Witnesses “Tessa,” Kelsey said, holding up the magnifying glass like she was about to grill her in a police procedural. “You were in the room when the alleged crime occurred. Can you account for your whereabouts?” Tessa blinked, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “Uh… I was setting up snack time,” she said slowly. “What’s this about?” Emma, still rooted to the spot, buried her face in her hands again. “Oh my gosh, Kelsey, stop!” she mumbled into her palms. Kelsey ignored her, narrowing her eyes at Tessa. “Snack time, huh? Convenient. But did you notice anyone acting suspicious? Perhaps a certain Bunny looking shifty?” Tessa’s smile returned as she caught on to the game. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, Emma did seem a little fidgety earlier. But then again, she’s always fidgety.” “Hey!” Emma protested, her hands dropping to her sides. “Don’t help her!” Kelsey nodded, scribbling in her imaginary notebook. “Fidgety… interesting. Suspicious even.” Emma groaned. “I am not the suspect!” Kelsey turned to Tessa again. “Did you happen to notice any… peculiar smells coming from Emma’s general direction?” Tessa laughed, leaning on the table. “Kelsey, I work in daycare. Peculiar smells are part of the job.” Kelsey sighed, tucking the magnifying glass into her waistband. “Fair enough. Thank you for your cooperation, Tessa. But the case is far from closed.” Miss Danielle Enters the Scene Kelsey spun around, her eyes landing on Miss Danielle, who had just walked into the room carrying a clipboard. The daycare owner raised an eyebrow as Kelsey approached, her posture radiating mock seriousness. “Miss Danielle,” Kelsey said, folding her arms. “We’re conducting an investigation into a very serious matter. I need your input.” Miss Danielle looked at Emma, who was doing her best to melt into the wall. “Do I even want to know?” she asked dryly. Kelsey smiled innocently. “Emma’s diaper has been compromised. Someone wet it. And pooped it.” Miss Danielle blinked, then set her clipboard down on the nearest table. “I see,” she said, her tone perfectly deadpan. “And you’re the lead investigator, I assume?” Kelsey nodded. “Detective Kelsey, at your service.” Miss Danielle sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, Detective, I can assure you I haven’t seen anyone tampering with Emma’s diaper. But I’ll keep an eye out for suspicious behavior.” “Thank you, Miss Danielle,” Kelsey said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.” Emma groaned again, her face buried in her hands. “Kelsey, you’re making me look like an idiot.” “Oh no, Bunny,” Kelsey said, turning to her with a grin. “You’re making you look like an idiot. I’m just here for the ride.” Re-Examining the Evidence Kelsey walked back to Emma and crouched down in front of her, magnifying glass in hand. “Alright, Bunny,” she said. “Let’s review the evidence. Heavy saturation. Applesauce residue. Witnesses placing you at the scene of the crime. It’s not looking good.” Emma crossed her arms, her face still burning. “None of that proves anything.” Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Then how do you explain the fact that you’re the one wearing the wet, poopy diaper?” Emma opened her mouth to argue but immediately closed it again. “I don’t have to explain anything,” she said stubbornly. Kelsey nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. A very defensive response. That’s exactly what a guilty person would say.” “I am not guilty!” Emma snapped. “We’ll see about that,” Kelsey said, standing up and pulling Emma gently toward the changing table. “But first, let’s clean up the evidence before the scene gets even messier.” Part 3: Solving the Case Emma squirmed as Kelsey led her to the changing table, one hand firmly clasping hers and the other holding the ever-present magnifying glass. The walk felt like a perp walk, and the giggles and curious glances from the toddlers didn’t help. Her face was as red as her hair, and the telltale crinkle of her diaper only made matters worse. “Kelsey, can’t you just change me and solve this later,” Emma whispered urgently. “Oh no, Bunny,” Kelsey said with a dramatic shake of her head. “This is just getting started. You know what they say: justice delayed is justice denied.” Emma groaned. “That’s not how that saying works.” Kelsey stopped in front of the changing table. She let go of Emma’s hand and turned to face the daycare staff and the small group of toddlers who had gathered nearby, their curiosity piqued by the ongoing spectacle. “Alright, everyone,” Kelsey announced, raising the magnifying glass like it was a badge. “We’ve got a real mystery on our hands. Someone—” she paused dramatically, pointing to Emma “—has either pooped Emma’s diaper, or a certain other someone filed a false report about a certain wet and poopy diaper tapes around her waist. And we’re not leaving this room until we get to the bottom of it!” The room erupted in giggles. Even Miss Danielle, who was usually the picture of professionalism, was struggling to suppress a smile. Tessa, leaning against a nearby table, clapped her hands lightly. “This is better than storytime,” she said. Emma crossed her arms, glaring at Kelsey. “I didn’t file a false report! I just… didn’t have all the facts, okay?” The Plot Twist Kelsey ignored her, turning to the toddlers. “Alright, kids,” she said, crouching down. “Detective Kelsey needs your help. We’ve got a mystery to solve. Did anyone see anything suspicious? Maybe someone sneaking into Emma’s diaper?” A little boy named Milo raised his hand eagerly. “Emma stinky!” he declared. Emma slapped her forehead. “Thanks, Milo. Very helpful.” Kelsey nodded solemnly. “Thank you, young man. Your keen observational skills have been noted.” Miss Danielle stepped forward, arms crossed but a smile playing on her lips. “Detective Kelsey,” she said in a mock-serious tone, “do you have any suspects?” Kelsey stood up and spun around dramatically, pointing her magnifying glass at Emma. “As a matter of fact, I do. The evidence points to only one person.” Emma took a step back, holding up her hands. “Oh, no. Don’t even—” “It’s YOU, Bunny!” Kelsey declared, her voice echoing through the playroom. “You’re the prime suspect in the Case of the Wet and Poopy Diaper!” The toddlers gasped audibly, their little hands covering their mouths as if they were part of a courtroom drama. Emma, meanwhile, buried her face in her hands, muttering, “This cannot be happening.” The Interrogation Kelsey pulled out one of the tiny toddler chairs and placed it in front of the changing table. “Take a seat, Bunny,” she said, gesturing grandly. Emma hesitated. “You’re not serious.” “Oh, I’m very serious,” Kelsey replied, her tone dripping with mock gravity. “You’ve been accused of filing a false report. Now sit down, or I’ll have to call in backup.” “Backup?” Emma repeated incredulously. “What backup?” Kelsey turned to Tessa and Miss Danielle, raising her eyebrows. “Ladies, care to assist?” Tessa clapped her hands gleefully. “Oh, absolutely.” Miss Danielle chuckled. “I think we’re all invested in seeing how this plays out.” Emma groaned loudly but reluctantly sat down on the toddler chair with a squish that made her wince, her knees awkwardly bent and her face still burning. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I want it on record that this is ridiculous.” “Noted,” Kelsey said, pretending to jot something down in an imaginary notebook. “Now then, let’s get started. Where were you at approximately snack time today?” Emma blinked. “Snack time? I was here. In daycare. Where else would I be?” Kelsey nodded thoughtfully, pacing back and forth in front of Emma like a detective grilling a suspect. “And what were you doing?” “I don’t know,” Emma said, throwing up her hands. “Playing with blocks and wistfully remembering when I was a normal adult, probably?” Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. And during this block-playing session, did you notice anything… unusual?” Emma glared at her. “Aside from this conversation? No.” Kelsey leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes. “Did you, or did you not, feel a certain… squishiness at any point during snack time?” Emma’s jaw dropped. “I am not answering that!” “Oh, I think you just did,” Kelsey said, pointing dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have our confession!” All Parties Heard From The toddlers giggled uncontrollably as Kelsey spun around to face them. “Alright, kids,” she said. “You’ve heard the suspect’s testimony. But do we believe her?” “Nooo!” they chorused, laughing and pointing at Emma. Emma groaned, slumping in the tiny chair. “You’re all traitors,” she muttered under her breath. Tessa stepped forward, pretending to examine Emma with a critical eye. “Detective Kelsey, I have to say, the evidence is pretty compelling.” Miss Danielle nodded. “It’s an open-and-shut case, if you ask me.” Kelsey turned back to Emma, crossing her arms. “Bunny,” she said, her tone suddenly serious, “I need you to come clean. The more you deny it, the worse it’s going to look.” Emma glared at her. “I’m not denying anything! I just… I didn’t know, okay? It’s not like I have a diaper radar or something.” Kelsey leaned in, her face mere inches from Emma’s. “So, you’re saying the diaper just… magically filled itself?” Emma hesitated, realizing too late that she’d backed herself into a corner. “I mean… maybe?” Kelsey straightened up, shaking her head. “Bunny, Bunny, Bunny,” she said with exaggerated disappointment. “Lying to a detective? That’s a serious offense.” The Final Confession By now, the entire daycare was in stitches. Even Emma couldn’t suppress a smile, though she tried to hide it by biting her lip. Kelsey, ever the performer, wasn’t about to let up. “I’m giving you one last chance, Bunny,” she said, pulling out the magnifying glass again. “Did you, or did you not, wet and poop this diaper?” Emma looked at the toddlers, at Tessa and Miss Danielle, and finally back at Kelsey. Her face was still beet red, but there was a twinkle of reluctant amusement in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I did it! It was me! I wet the diaper, and I pooped it too. Are you happy now?” The room erupted in cheers, the toddlers clapping and laughing as if they’d just witnessed the conclusion of an epic courtroom drama. Kelsey grinned, tucking the magnifying glass into her pocket. “Case closed,” she said triumphantly. “Detective Kelsey always gets her Bunny.” Emma groaned, hiding her face in her hands again. “You’re the worst,” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her true feelings. Part 4: The Arrest and Trial of Emma Bunny The room had returned to its usual hum of daycare activity, but Emma lay flat on the changing on the changing table, the strap buckled over her chest like a defendant shackled for trial. She crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks still pink from the ridiculous spectacle Kelsey had orchestrated. Kelsey, however, was just getting started. With an exaggerated flourish, she pulled a toddler-sized chair over to sit beside the changing table. She stood on it, holding her imaginary notebook in one hand and the toy magnifying glass in the other. “All rise!” Kelsey announced in a dramatic voice, her tone echoing that of a stern courtroom judge. She cast a mock glare at Emma, whose jaw dropped. “You’re kidding,” Emma said, her blush deepening. Kelsey ignored her, pounding on the side of the changing table like a judge’s gavel. “We’re now in session to determine the guilt—or, let’s face it, the obvious guilt—of one Emma Bunny.” Emma groaned, covering her face. “I confessed! This is so unnecessary,” she mumbled through her hands. Kelsey grinned. “The court disagrees. Let the trial begin!” Presenting the Evidence Kelsey stood up, circling the changing table as though addressing an invisible jury. “Ladies, gentlemen, and toddlers,” she began, her voice filled with dramatic flair. “We have before us a diaper—no, a crime scene—that is soaked, squishy, and suspicious. But that is not the crime we are hear for today. No, we are hear because this defendant is accused of filing a false report of tampered pampers. Let’s review the evidence, shall we?” Emma peeked through her fingers, already cringing. “Kelsey…” “Exhibit A!” Kelsey announced, pointing to Emma’s diaper. “The wetness levels. Unprecedented. Saturation like this doesn’t just happen, folks. It takes determination. Guts. And, dare I say it, juice boxes.” The toddlers giggled from their spots nearby, clearly loving every second of this. Emma, however, was sinking further into the changing table. “Exhibit B!” Kelsey continued, holding up an imaginary document. “The poopy part. Experts—aka me—have confirmed traces of applesauce and carrots. Classic daycare lunch items.” Emma groaned. “Why do you have to say it like that?” “And finally,” Kelsey said, leaning in close to Emma with a playful smirk, “Exhibit 😄 a full confession from the accused.” Emma sat up, pointing a finger at Kelsey. “You interrogated me! That confession doesn’t count.” Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “Objection overruled.” Emma threw her hands up in defeat. “This is ridiculous.” The Sentencing Kelsey turned back to the imaginary jury, her tone suddenly solemn. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve heard the evidence. We’ve seen the crime scene. And we’ve heard the accused’s very own words. There’s only one verdict that makes sense.” She paused dramatically, pointing at Emma. “Emma Bunny, you are hereby sentenced to the title of… Poopy Diaper Princess!” The toddlers erupted in laughter, clapping and pointing at Emma as she covered her face in both hands. “Oh my gosh, Kelsey, why?” she whined, her voice muffled. Kelsey ignored her, pulling out an imaginary crown and placing it on Emma’s head. “Your royal highness,” she said, bowing deeply. “May your reign be squishy and long.” Emma peeked out from behind her hands, glaring at Kelsey. “You are impossible.” “And yet,” Kelsey said, her grin widening, “you still love me.” Emma groaned but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe.” The Punishment Kelsey set the toy magnifying glass aside and climbed up onto the changing table beside Emma. “Alright, Bunny,” she said, her tone softening. “You’ve been sentenced. But every royal needs a little TLC, don’t you think?” Emma narrowed her eyes. “What are you planning?” “Oh, nothing much,” Kelsey said innocently, leaning closer. “Just this!” She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Emma and planting a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. Emma squealed, trying to squirm away, but Kelsey held on tight. “Stop it!” Emma cried, though the giggle bubbling up in her throat betrayed her. Kelsey grinned, pulling back just enough to wiggle her fingers in front of Emma’s face. “Tickle monster is coming!” she teased. “No, no, no!” Emma protested, laughing uncontrollably as Kelsey’s fingers found her sides. She squirmed and giggled, her attempts to escape half-hearted at best. “Admit it,” Kelsey said between tickles. “You’re the best Poopy Diaper Princess there ever was!” “Never!” Emma gasped, her laughter ringing through the playroom. Kelsey relented after a few more moments, letting Emma catch her breath. Emma sighed heavily, leaning against Kelsey’s shoulder as the giggles subsided. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured. “And you love me for it,” Kelsey replied, wrapping an arm around Emma’s shoulders. Emma didn’t respond right away, letting herself relax into Kelsey’s embrace. She felt safe, warm, and oddly comforted despite the embarrassing spectacle. After a moment, she nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.” Kelsey pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Emma’s head. “Good,” she said. “Now, my little Bunny, let’s get you changed before your royal doodies overwhelm the kingdom.” Part 5: Aftermath Emma lay on the changing table, her cheeks still pink from all the teasing and laughter. Kelsey, ever the performer, stood beside her, snapping a fresh pair of gloves onto her hands with the exaggerated air of a surgeon about to perform a life-saving procedure. “Alright, Bunny,” Kelsey said, picking up a pack of wipes and holding it up like it was a magic wand. “Let the official cleanup commence. We’re about to restore law and order to this chaotic diaper situation.” Emma groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Kels, can’t you just… do it quietly? Like a normal person?” “Quietly?” Kelsey repeated, feigning shock. “Bunny, where’s the fun in that? If you’re going to commit crimes against your pampers, you’ve got to be ready to face the music.” Narrating the Cleanup Kelsey opened the diaper with the theatrical flair of someone opening a treasure chest. “Oh my,” she said, pretending to gasp. “It’s worse than I thought. We’ve got a Code Brown, ladies and gentlemen.” Emma groaned loudly, her hands flying back up to cover her face. “Kelsey, stop! You’re going to scar me for life.” Kelsey ignored her, holding up a wipe like it was a forensic tool. “Time to neutralize the evidence,” she announced. “We’ll start with the perimeter. Standard cleanup procedure, of course.” She narrated each step as she worked, her tone a mix of mock professionalism and playful amusement. “Wipe one: initial contact. Wipe two: backup support. Wipe three: the unsung hero, taking care of those hard-to-reach places.” Emma couldn’t help but laugh despite herself, her giggles muffled by her hands. “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re adorable,” Kelsey shot back, grinning as she tossed the used wipes into the nearby bin. “Now, let’s address the… ahem… squishy situation.” She lifted Emma’s legs gently, sliding the soiled diaper out from under her and folding it up with practiced ease. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, holding up the rolled diaper, “we’ve officially neutralized the crime scene.” Emma peeked out again, her cheeks still flushed. “Can we not call it a crime scene?” “But Bunny, that’s exactly what it was,” Kelsey teased, grabbing the fresh diaper from the shelf. “And now, justice will be served. Or in this case, taped securely.” Fresh and Clean Kelsey unfolded the new diaper with a dramatic flourish, shaking it out like she was prepping a parachute. “Here we go,” she said, sliding it under Emma with care. “The fresh start every Poopy Diaper Princess deserves.” Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re never letting that title go, are you?” “Not a chance,” Kelsey replied, grinning as she secured the first tape. “You earned it fair and square.” She fastened the second tape with a satisfying pat, then gave the front of the diaper a playful tap. “And there we have it, folks! A fresh, clean Bunny, ready to take on the world—or at least survive until nap time.” Emma sat up, adjusting her sweatshirt to cover the top of her diaper. “Thanks, Kels,” she said softly, her blush fading as the warmth of Kelsey’s care replaced her earlier embarrassment. Words of Reassurance Kelsey crouched down to Emma’s eye level, her expression turning gentle. “Bunny,” she said, brushing a stray strand of red hair out of Emma’s face, “I want you to remember something, okay?” Emma tilted her head, curious. “What?” “You can always come to me,” Kelsey said, her voice warm and steady. “Whether it’s a soaked diaper, a poopy one, or even just a bad day. You don’t have to be scared or embarrassed. I’m always here to help.” Emma’s eyes softened, and she felt a lump form in her throat. “Even if it’s, like, a lot?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Kelsey chuckled, pulling Emma into a hug. “Even if it’s a lot,” she said. “Especially if it’s a lot.” Emma sighed, leaning into Kelsey’s embrace. She felt safe, like she could let go of all her worries and just be herself. “Thanks, Kels,” she murmured. “Always, Bunny,” Kelsey replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Emma’s head. “Now, let’s get you ready for nap time.” Nap Time Kelsey led Emma over to the nap mats, where the toddlers were already settling in. She grabbed Emma’s favorite blanket from her cubby—a soft, worn pink one with little stars embroidered along the edges—and tucked it around her. Emma lay down with a content sigh, the fresh diaper crinkling softly as she shifted. Kelsey crouched beside her, smoothing the blanket and giving her a reassuring smile. “Sweet dreams, Poopy Diaper Princess,” Kelsey teased, her voice barely above a whisper. Emma groaned, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you?” “Not a chance,” Kelsey replied, brushing her fingers lightly against Emma’s cheek. “Now get some rest. You’ve had a busy day solving mysteries.” Emma closed her eyes, a small smile lingering on her lips as she drifted off. And for the first time that day, she didn’t feel embarrassed. She just felt loved. _______________________ I'm going to start posting more stories about Emma and Kelsey on my Ream or SubStar!

Hi. Sorry for the unplanned hiatus. Chapter 11 – Movie Night Oliver came to lying on warm sheets to the rhythmic creaking of wood and the soft humming of a pleasant tune. He opened his eyes and peered through the bars of his crib to see Abigail sitting in the nursery rocking chair, apparently waiting for him to rouse. “Have a nice nap sleepyhead?” she smiled as she rose to scoop him out of the crib and set him down on the changing table. He realised he had been sleeping in just a diaper and his t-shirt, and tried to remember when that had happened. Before he had even pieced together his hazy memory from being carried on the trail, Abigail was already pressing the tapes on his fresh diaper and whisking him out of the nursery. “Mom, my pants!” he yelped with alarm. “It’s okay sweetie, it’s a nice warm day. This way I can see when you need a change.” she consoled, routing around his objection. “Everyone will see!” he moaned, squirming in her arms. “Uh-oh, is someone being a cranky cowboy after their nap? I think you could use some quiet playtime until dinner.” she announced, setting him down on a soft blanket on which an assortment of toys had been arranged, well within the watchful gaze of the table where the rest of the adults chatted idly as they prepared dinner, while the sounds of unsupervised fun rang out from the others some distance outside. While having no desire to be seen in his current attire, Oliver’s curiosity got the better of him and he crept towards the door to see what the others were up to. He wasn’t more than a few paces away when Abigail lifted him summarily back onto the blanket. “This is where you are to stay until I come to get you. I’m right here if you need anything. You’re having quiet time.” “But-” he was cut off as quickly as he started by a pacifier pressed into his lips. “That’s to stay in until I take it out, understood?” Oliver simply crossed his arms. He sat stewing in his boredom for some time, not wishing to dignify the expectations set for him by playing with the toys, but eventually, the tedium began to set it. He started to examine a toy rocket-ship. He couldn’t help but get engrossed as his mind spun a story for the cast of blocks, action figures, and soft toys that lay before him. Deep into his imaginary game, he rose to his knees and stretched his arm out to arc the spaceship through the air. He didn’t notice when his t-shirt started to ride up, exposing his diaper completely. He also wasn’t consciously aware that he had started to make sound affects to bring the story to life. His pacifier hung loosely from his lips to accommodate the futuristic white noise of the ship rocketing through the atmosphere, and fell out completely when he heard the shutter sound of a camera, bouncing along the kitchen floor as Oliver spun around to see Sue pointing her phone at him. He suddenly realised that the attention of everyone present had been fixed on him for who knows how long and blushed a deep red. “That’s one for the album!” quipped Julia. “Oops!” said Abigail cheerily as she picked up his pacifier and, without a second thought, stuck it in her own lips to clean any dirt off of it before summarily inserting it back into Oliver’s. “Sorry sweetheart, I should have given you this earlier.” Abigail said fishing through her bag and retrieving a short plastic chain which she clipped to his pacifier, and then his shirt. “Now, no more losing binky!” she said as if she was christening it. He returned his attention to his toys, self-consciously keeping any noises and motions to a minimum. Before long, he was lost in his own imagination again. So much so, that after several attempts to summon him outside for dinner failed, he was taken by surprise when Abigail lifted him under the arms and carried him outside on her hip before depositing him once again in the high chair. His grumbled as his freedom was revoked once more as the tray was locked into place. Oliver surveyed the spread of Mexican food laid across the table as Abigail made him up a plate and set it in front of him. He noted how the others delicately negotiated the tacos to stop them falling apart and started to approach the problem himself, but before he could touch his food Abigail swooped in once more, this time from behind him. “There” she said, satisfied, as she s­ecure the knot. “That oughta keep your shirt somewhat in tact.” Oliver looked down at the bib festooned with a smiling train and groaned. He made do as best he could under the circumstances, and although he’d be the last to admit it, the bib saved him from more than a few splashes of sauce. His hands and face were a different story, however. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could just clean himself up, but confined to the high chair he was condemned to look like a toddler who wasn’t even aware of the culinary destruction they had wrought. “You folks doing okay? Hope you’re all having a great time here.” Oliver was pulled out of his brooding funk by the raucous interjection of a large, jolly, bearded stranger standing at the end of the table. He introduced himself as Big Bill, the co-founder of the complex. Everyone called him that, and they could too, he chuckled. He made small talk with the adults, probing for any concerns or complaints and seemed satisfied to come up empty handed. He explained how he and his brothers had built the cabins by hand and much of the furniture. “Well we’ve been getting a lot of use out of some of the pieces here, haven’t we Oli?” Abigail asked rhetorically, glancing at Oliver. “You might be surprised how many parents of, er, late bloomers we get in here saying the exact same thing.” he said with deliberate emphasis winking at Oliver. “My brothers and I still run a wood shop near here and we deliver, if you’re interested.” he continued “I might just have to take you up on that.” said Abigail “Anyway, I wanted to let you folks know we’re hosting a movie night here for all the guests. We have an outdoor projector set up on the grounds. It’s something of a little tradition we have here. All family friendly, of course. It’s the new Galaxy Battle if you guys would be interested.” Nick and Jacob were immediately enthusiastic to see the newest entry in their favourite series. “Oh, I think that might be a little scary for Davey.” replied Sue promptly, ruling him out “What do you say Oli?” asked Abigail, extending a level of leniency that had sorely missed lately, but was overshadowed by the trepidation he felt about being seen in by yet more people in his current state of dress. “Oh... okay.” he agreed, apprehensively. “Great, we’ll just get you ready for bed before the movie.” Abigail said, adding a new condition to the agreement after it was struck without missing a beat. Oliver had mixed feelings about this too. He didn’t want to be seen in his footed sleeper. But he wanted even less to be seen in nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt. As he was released from the highchair and tracked across and cold cobblestones barefoot in the cool night air, his mental scales started to tip towards gratitude for the prospect of warm jammies. Abigail deftly swapped the boy’s thin t-shirt for his cozy swaddling night ware, pausing briefly to check he was dry to her satisfaction. She lead him outside again before sweeping him off his feet and on to her hip. “I don’t want you scuffing up your PJs.” she explained. They soon caught up with the others who were sat on one of several rows of benches position around a large makeshift projector screen. There was room for one more person on the end of the bench that seated both the extended Wilson and Baker families. Abigail took her seat, holding Oliver securely in her lap. It was just beginning to get dark enough outside to see the image on screen clearly. Oliver noticed several unfamiliar families also seated and began to feel very self conscious. “Is that boy wearing a nappy?” he overheard one girl ask her mother in a British accent. “He probably has special needs. It’s not polite to stare.” she whispered in response, but not nearly quietly enough not to be heard. Powerless to do anything about it, he tried to focus on the movie. As it proceeded onwards, though, he found himself utterly unprepared for the antagonist’s capacity to get inside his head, the jump scares, even the loud noises proved too much for him, and he soon found the tender surface of Abigail’s shoulder to be much more inviting viewing. After a few minutes clinging tightly to her with his eyes screwed shut, he heard her speaking to Julia as she rose to her feet. “I think we’re going to turn in, it’s a little scary for us.” “Mom... I wanna watch the movie.” Oliver objected as he was carried away, feeling the need to mount a token protest to save face. “We’re just taking a little break, honey.” she explained placatingly. Of course, it didn’t make any sense for just them to take a break from a movie that was still playing. Oliver knew this, but he didn’t care. He knew he wouldn’t be able to watch it anyway. He simply allowed himself to be carried back to the house, resting his heavy head on her shoulder and showing no resistance as she prepared his nightly bottle, gently swaying him all the while. “Good boy.” she whispered as he readily accepted the rubber nipple and nursed on the bottle’s sweet contents, forsaking the pretensions of growing up once more for the newfound warmth and security of being little again.

I'm old enough to have been the remote control 😝

We just finished posting the complete story of Butterflies on our Patreon. So if you're too impatient to wait, or you just want to support us, please check us out at www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding You can also support us by leaving comments (especially about your favorite parts!) and hitting the Like button at the bottom of the post. This kind of thing is actually a really good motivator for us to keep posting our stuff on DailyDiapers. Thank you for reading so far! We will continue our usual posting schedule until the whole story is posted publicly. ---------------------- Chapter Fifty-Seven We took my car, but Mommy buckled both Ellie and I into the back seat. How could Mommy be an adult if she still drove around on a scooter anyway? I wished I had thought to bring my phone with me - it would have been a good distraction. Then again, Mommy probably left it at home on purpose. Sometimes distractions were bad. "Where are we going?" The walk from her house to my car was enough outdoor time for me. I wanted to go home. "We're going out for dinner, and then a surprise." Dinner should have made me anxious. Food made me anxious; it was like a universal truth of the El experience. Buuuut... Marnie, I mean, Mommy, she was pretty switched on about it and that made it easy to shift responsibility over to her. And heck, I had a LOT more new things to be anxious about! Ellie and I would eat more often at the mall than anywhere else. Food + people. For once, I was glad Mommy had higher standards. She pulled into a buffet and parked the car. Hm. Buffets had dessert bars... "Come on, little ones." "At least try to act like we're adults," I said sharply, but Mommy had an answer to everything. "We're still in the car, Smylie. Don't worry so much. I'll take care of you." I was trying to believe her, I really was. I just... couldn't. "I'm the littler sister, so if you wanna like um... tell me what to do, and be like 'gosh, sis, don't you know anything?' so you can feel more responsible, I'd be okay with that?" I whispered to her, although I didn't know if that was really any help at all. "Sure..." Ellie was trying. Mommy was trying. I just couldn't relax like they could. Mommy led us inside and paid for the buffet. We were led to a booth along the back wall. I crinkled with every step. It sounded so loud to me, but no one was paying attention. The place wasn't even crowded. Truth be told, I didn't know a lot of people in this city. Ellie and I moved here when we got Basic because it was far enough away from home that our parents couldn't drop by. Even after five years, I had only a handful of acquaintances. I shouldn't have been so worried. Why was I worried? Mommy sat across from Ellie and me and I sunk into the booth. I wanted to go home... Kylie was all in her head and glum and gloomy, but I had my own concerns, too! Once I sat down, I nervously leaned across the table so I could talk as quietly as could be. "Um... how do you um... how do you sit in a dress, without um... people seeing?" I'd only made that realization after inelegantly sliding into the booth. "I wouldn't worry about it," Marnie said cheerfully. It was clear to anyone who knew her how much she was enjoying herself. Even the embarrassment on Kylie's cheeks was adorable to her! "Cross your ankles," I told her. I remembered that trick from when I was little. "It's not exactly easy to do that when I'm in a diaper; I can't even get my knees to touch without really squeezing them together," I lamented, and that commend simultaneously made Kylie slink down like she was trying to hide, and Marnie grin with glee. "Alright girls, go get some food. I'll wait to order your drinks." Ellie got up from the table, but I didn't. I stayed where I was, sunken down in the seat. Ellie gave Mommy a tentative look and Mommy waved her away. Ellie went to get some food, waddling ever so slightly, leaving Mommy and I alone. "What's up, buttercup?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Are you worried I'm giving your sister too much attention?" That was a childishly directed question, handling a pretty serious topic matter; Marnie was well aware of the kind of resentment and jealousy that could grow if she weren't careful. "No." I wasn't really the possessive type. Even if I was, Ellie seemed to be immune to that. I'd already had this conversation with her, but I hadn't yet had it with Marnie. Ellie wasn't even sure what her relationship with Marnie was! "Is it your clothes?" I shrugged again. An automatic yes. "I'm going to force you to do some things you don't want to do, but I'm not going to put you in harm’s way. I'm your Mommy, and you know that I'd never let anything bad happen to you, right, Smylie? I'm not looking to embarrass you, to humiliate you; this is actually the opposite - this is normalization." "But it's not normal. It's weird. And stupid. And now I'm involving all these random strangers in a really private thing, and..." "They aren't involved. They are enjoying their dinner, and you're enjoying something that makes you happy. They aren't a part of this." "But what if someone sees or figures it out or something?" "Then someone is paying too much attention to your tush. That's their fault." "But..." "There is definitely a thin line between public consent and exposure, but what if say... you were out for dinner, wearing Lolita? Yes, what you're wearing makes a statement, but it doesn't say 'I'm a little girl in a diaper and this is my Mommy.' It says 'I like looking cute and youthful' and that's fine, Smylie." "I guess..." She made a good point. But there was more to it. Mommy reached across the table and took my hand in hers. "I know it's hard for you to trust people. But I'm going to show you that nothing bad will happen. Then next time you won't be as anxious. Is that okay?" I sighed and nodded my head. Already I had walked from her house to the car, then from her car to the restaurant doors, then from the doors to this booth. No one heard me crinkling. No one saw me waddling. Maybe she was right... "You should probably go see how your sister is doing; I'll bet the idea of a buffet is pretty daunting to her, don't you think?" Marnie knew that Kylie's feelings weren't yet resolved, and they would take time - that was the nature of all feelings, not just those related to being Little. And sometimes the best friends Time had were Distraction and Purpose.

Chapter Fifty-Four The rest of the night was uneventful. No panic attack. No feeling weird with Ellie. Whatever I was afraid of, I seemed to have gotten over it. But that night, when Ellie and I parted ways into separate rooms across from one another, I felt another twang of anxiety, just for a moment. I closed my bedroom door and went to the closet, pulling the diaper out again. This time I didn't hold it to my chest. I unfolded it. Honestly, I'd never really looked at one before. Mommy put them on, Mommy took them off. But, well.... they were kind of cute. Bigger than I thought they'd be. Hmm... > Hey, you up? Honestly, she had been working late. She was probably asleep. But just as I set down my phone, it vibrated. > You should know by now that moms never sleep. > What's up? > My mom always sleeps > She hates when you wake her up > But that's not the point > I was wondering if you could explain how to put a diaper on > It looks sort of complicated > It's not too bad, but it's harder when doing it on yourself > Do you want to video call? > No > Ellie's in the other room so I'm trying to be quiet > Can you just explain it? > I can certainly try. You want to unfold it first, give it a good scrunch and fluff. > I don't know what that means but sure > Unfold it. Lay it out on the bed. > And squeeze the sides around the padding in and out, gently, so it loosens the fibers a little. > Okay you are talking gibberish can you just tell me which side I sit on? > The side with the tapes? > Sure. > The tapes go at the back, because you pull them around and tape them in front. > Cool. Anything else? > I do bottom tapes first, you want them to be snug, but not cutting into your legs. > Those have hook and loop tapes, so you can take a few goes at it. > I don't know what that means > One sec > This feels wrong.. > I have no idea what's wrong about it > But it definitely feels wrong > Send me a picture. > Mmmmmmmmmmmm > Send Mommy a picture, Smylie >Don't start!! >Sent 1 image. > Hmm, yeah, you're uneven front to back. > See how much lower the back is? > So your tapes are all wrong. > This is hell > I take you for granted > True, but I love you anyway. > Show me when you've tried again. > Feels better but still a bit odd > These tapes are a blessing > Okay I tightened one and loosened one and I think it's better > Show me. > Blah it's probably fine > Sent 1 image. > Not bad! Did you powder? > You need a lot of powder, baby girl. > No you didn't leave any here > And I don't need powder if I'm not using it > So >:P > Ok going to bed now > Thank you for.. all that > No problem. > You should get your sister into a diaper, too, you find her less threatening that way. > *rolls eyes* > Night, Mommy ---------------------- Thank you for reading! Like, Comment, and check us out on Patreon!

Chapter Fifty-Three Noland's dinners were notoriously good; it was one of the reasons I loved coming over here. Maybe my only reason. I liked Jen well enough, but we weren't FriendsTM. I had eight pieces of garlic bread and elected to skip out on the pasta. Ellie barely ate anything. It was almost normal. Like my best friend looking totally different and wearing totally different clothes didn't actually change anything at all. What was I so worried about, anyway? "We should go to your place tonight," I offered Kylie, in a moment of quiet after dinner. She may have missed the earlier comment from Jen, but I sure hadn't - they had date night planned tonight, and I really could think of a thousand things better to fill my night with than the sounds of pegging via proxy. "My place?" I blinked in surprise. Of course, we had stayed at my place a thousand times. It was convenient. I even had a spare room for her! But, well... other than the one time Marnie crashed in my room after the Solstice Party, I had never had a girl stay over before. Obviously Ellie was always a girl! Even if she didn't know it. Right? It wasn't weird, right? Just two totally gay girls that totally probably had crushes on each other staying in the same small apartment. Totally normal. Totally ordinary. "Uh... sure. Yeah. Sure. Of course." "You're the best." She was oddly quiet though, a lot less her usual 'I know~' kind of response than I'd been expecting. We watched a movie with Noland and Jen, but I was a little lost in thought. I knew nothing should be different, but it felt different. Just a little bit. We hadn't had a night alone together since the "I'm a girl" thing, which was... admittedly only yesterday. Yesterday? It felt like weeks had gone by. After the movie, I drove Ellie and I back to my place. She had clothes already in the spare room - she stayed over often enough - but I doubted she would appreciate them anymore. Maybe she wanted to borrow a nightgown. Was she going to take off her makeup? Maybe if she looked more like a boy this wouldn't be so weird. Was that transphobic? Fuck, I was such a mess... "Do I wear a bra to bed?" I mean, I figured I wasn't supposed to, but I knew about as much about girls as I knew about video games: very, very little. I cocked my head to the side in curiosity as she stared up at me from the bed; I was in a skirt and bra and nothing else, and I hadn't taken off my makeup. And she was staring. Was this a faux pas? Fudge. "Uh. Ordinarily, no? Uh, I think it actually has to do with your bra size, so..." My chest wasn't huge; Caroline measured me at a C cup. But Ellie's boobs were... for lack of a better term, non-existent. Maybe she would feel more comfortable in a bra? "That one is from Caroline's store, yeah? You should be fine to sleep in it if you want to." Notably, Ellie would need new bras, ones that gave her a bit more padding in the chest area. Then I wondered if she would get real boobs. Was that a surgery thing? And that led to the thought of Ellie with boobs, standing topless in my room, and I felt warm. I passed her a spare set of pajamas; totally not up to her fabric standards, but they were purple and had flowers on them. More girly than anything she owned. "I'm gonna step out," I muttered, leaving Ellie alone in my room. I took out my phone and sent Marnie a text. I wasn't doing very well... I wore the bra. I also wore her pajamas, and I didn't cause a fuss about wearing them either. But until I bought some more suitable sleepwear of my own, I was just grateful that she was being so generous. * * * * * > What's up? > Stupid feelings shit. > It's literally no different having her here! I should not be freaking out! > Ugh I'm so mad at myself right now. > How can I help? > Talk to me about it, Smylie. > I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. She's cute, so what? I have gone my whole life without getting flustered around cute girls. > And honestly I am not even flustered around her normally. It's just now, because she's staying the night. Even though it's happened like a billion times. > Fuck I'm stressed. I'm gonna have a stupid panic attack over this! Then what? > I hate this. I should be better at handling this. > Maybe it's Ellie you should be sharing those feelings with? > I know it sounds anathema to do that, but I'll talk you through it if you’d like > I don't want to like her. > I don't want to date anyone. > I just want to not have a panic attack please. > Fix it. > Without coming over. Wow, I sounded like a Mommy's girl... > Well, put her in the spare room, pretend nothing's different. > The world won't end, Smylie. > I planned to do that anyway! > You thought she was sleeping in my bed or something?! The door opened next to me and I looked over at Ellie wearing my pajamas. My heart was racing and I was feeling queasy. I'm sure it showed on my face. "So... you're freaking out, huh? Want me to... go? I can." Go? Great. She sees I'm not doing well and immediately wants to leave. Of course she does. Because I fucking ruin everything. "I'm fine," I said sharply and walked away from her, sitting on my sofa and sending another message to Marnie. > Forget it. > You know I won't. "I'm sorry... I'm not good at emotional confrontation, but I can see that you're upset and I wanna be the kind of girl who is good with that kind of stuff. So even if I suck at it, let me try? Tell me what's up?" I looked away from Ellie and down at my feet. What was I supposed to say? She made me nervous? She had no reason to make me nervous. It was just my fucked up mind fucking everything up, like usual. Maybe I should just... talk. "I have anxiety," I said flatly, still a bit annoyed. But the racing of my heart was making it hard to be anything other than scared. "Do you know why?" I asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa. "No," I lied. Though the next part was true. "Sometimes it just does this. And I can't do anything..." "Does it usually help more to wait it out, or to talk through it and figure out the cause?" I was almost certainly the cause; I knew enough to calculate cause and effect here. I knew she was uncomfortable around me. Seeing your best friend as a different gender was bound to make a person feel weird. "I don't know," I said quietly, more to myself than to her. "Marnie doesn't talk about it until it's over... she just helps me get through it." But Ellie wasn't really in the position to do something like that. No offense to her, but she wouldn't be a very good caregiver. Too indecisive. "It's just anxiety," I sighed. "I'm sure I'll be fine." Anxiety and anxiety attacks were different. Maybe this one wouldn't develop. But I was rarely so lucky. "I'd like to hug you; can I do that? Is that okay?" I was more of a 'sit on the sofa across from an upset person and listen' kind of person. But Marnie would hug, and she made up precisely 25% of my sample size of girls. What would Jen do? What would Caroline do? What would Kylie do? "I..." I looked sideways, from the corner of my eye, at the girl wearing my pajamas. My cheeks felt a little warm. Ugh... "Sure, I guess..." So I sat down on the sofa next to Kylie, next to arguably my favorite girl out of the whole sample, and I put my arms around her. Did I lean into her? Did I pull her into me? In the end, the indecision led me down a third option I hadn't considered; we leaned into each other, and I rested my head gently on hers. ...awkward... We had hugged before. We put our feet on each others' laps. We have even nodded off on the other's shoulder. But this felt different. My heart was beating too hard and too fast. My stomach was doing flips. My thoughts wouldn't stay in a single file line, no matter how I bossed them around. They charged the stage, waving signs and screaming as loud as they could. Then my phone buzzed. I checked Marnie's newest text on the home screen. > Remember you have diapers in your closet. I quickly flipped my phone over and tucked it into the couch cushions, hoping Ellie didn't see it. Honestly, what good would a diaper do? It wasn't diapers that made me feel better. It was Marnie. And she wasn't here. They were just a... a prop. Ugh, I felt sick to my stomach. Diapers in her closet. Of course I saw; I was a pixie girl with a short attention span; bright lights and buzzy sounds drew my focus without even trying, and I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Er. Text drop? Who even knows. I sat up nonchalantly and yawned. Did I mention it? Should I? "Do you wanna cuddle in your bed? Like we did at Marnie's? Would that help? I could be the big spoon again." "I don't think that would help," I muttered under my breath, pulling my knees to my chest. I put my forehead to my knees and tried to breathe the way Marnie taught me. In, hold, out. Slow. Why did this have to happen now? Why couldn't I just be a normal person? "So, Caroline, you remember Caroline, from the store? This one time I ordered these gorgeous cotton panties online, and—" I paused on that, wondering what I was doing; she was hyperventilating, and I was telling stories. Was it to distract her? To distract me? I think maybe I just wanted to make her laugh, because if I couldn't chase away her bad feelings, maybe I could drown them out in laughter. "And I get there and Caroline is having this argument with this like fifty year old woman, who insists they're her preorder. So they're going on and on and on, and Caroline is trying to explain things to this customer, and this customer is getting angrier and angrier. Eventually I say 'It's okay, Caroline, I don't want them anymore,' and there is just... silence. Silence while Caroline wonders if I meant to imply they were for me. Silence while this woman tries to figure out if I was implying they were for me. Silence from me as I literally hold my breath." I held my breath at the end of that too, for dramatic effect. "And you know what this woman says?" "Hm...?" Her story was like background noise. But nice background noise. Like a song you heard when you were in middle school. Like I knew all the words already. I guess that's just how best friends talk. "So she says 'I promised my nephew I'd get them for him'. And we're all still silent, and she looks at me, and I look at Caroline, and finally I tell her 'Your nephew has fantastic taste.' And she says to me 'He's too scared to come buy for himself and his Mom's a bit of a basket case.' So there I’m like, what do I say to that? Like, Auntie of the Year, right? But also, is that weird? And then. Then. She says, 'He's about your age, his name is Carson'." Boom. Mic drop. Because Carson isn’t a very popular name and we both went to high school with Carson Radick. That boy was the poster child for toxic masculinity and homophobic as could be - he gave kids like me the worst type of hell. A little laugh broke through my breathing and I closed my eyes tight. Okay. That was actually pretty funny. I turned my head and looked up at Ellie with a smile. Already, I felt exhausted, and the anxiety wasn't even that bad yet. Maybe it wouldn't get any worse. "Carson was a dick... he pinched my ass in ninth grade. I should have beat him up." "You should've pinched his ass and asked where his Aunt got those panties from. Do you think he was wearing in high school? I bet he was. I was. Can you believe the nerve of that boy?" I laughed a bit and ran my fingers up the back of her neck, so I could ruffle her hair playfully. I had no fricking idea what I was doing. Quiet filled the room. My anxiety wasn't going down, but it wasn't going up either. At this level, I could manage it. It was uncomfortable. It was exhausting. But I could go about my daily life. Or nightly life in this case. I let out a little sigh and lowered my feet to the ground. Everything felt like it was underwater. "I'm going to get my pajamas on," I told Ellie with a fake smile. "Do you want these ones?" I offered helpfully. "They're definitely some of the softest clothes you own." "N-no, I'm... I'm okay. I'm just gonna put on some pajama pants or something..." Plus, she looked gorgeous in my clothes. I didn't even know that was something I found sexy! And now I couldn't stop thinking about it. Why did she have to be so cute, anyway? I left Ellie alone in the living room and closed my bedroom door behind me. Pajama pants. Then I could lie down. Sleep would make all this go away, right? I changed into pajamas and paused at the door. I looked over at the closet. She only left those stupid diapers here because I was having bad anxiety last week and she wanted them nearby for convenience. I wasn't ever going to wear one, not without her putting it on me. But my mind wandered to the closet all the same and my body followed. A stack of diapers were waiting for me on the top shelf. This was stupid. Why was I even doing this? With a sigh, I stood on my tip toes and plucked one off the stack. Immediately, the feeling made me think of Marnie. The light rustling of the plastic. The cute pink patterns. And thinking of Marnie made me think about cuddling in her lap and watching movies and playing with toys and getting tucked in. And... I started to feel a little better. I hugged the diaper to my chest, causing it to crinkle, and took a deep breath. It was so calming... after a minute or two, I put it back on the top shelf and went to find Ellie. "Cute pajamas, wow. Why do you own such cute stuff? You have really good taste in clothes!" I just wished she'd spend a little more on them so they felt as nice as they looked. Speaking of feeling... "You're looking better!" I had good taste in clothes? Those were the last words I ever thought I'd hear out of Ellie's mouth. Honestly, she was more likely to tell me she was a time traveling alien from another dimension. I had to take a moment to shake away the shock. "Yeah. Uh... I just needed a minute, I guess." My chest was aching, but my heart rate was down. My stomach didn't feel like it had been tied in knots. Even my thoughts were a little less obtrusive. Weird... "Do you wanna play one of your games? I'll watch and I promise I won't even be on my phone, okay?" Which would be hard, because video games were boring. But for her… I could tough it out. "Yeah, I think that would be nice." I smiled warmly at Ellie - a real smile! - and grabbed my game controller. ---------------------- Thank you for reading! Like, Comment, and check us out on Patreon!

Betterdry, very well soaked and I put a booster pad into it to extend it's life. That's not all I put into it either! These face masks serve a dual purpose!