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Sorry all, I've been sick. Coming out of both ends on Christmas day sucks!!! I'm feeling better now, hope to get back to it more regularly. Chapter 20 Falling deeper We got up again and she got dressed. Well, pants and a top, no panties or bra underneath. She explained it as, “Around the house, sometimes I just like to relax.” I was still worried though. I’d been having more dreams about being her baby, and this time I’d soaked myself. Was it the scary part of the dream? The part where I thought she was about to… what’s the word? “Peg” me? I’d never tried anything back there. In fact, that day at Miss Beth’s was the first time I even had a finger back there. Isn’t that what guys are supposed to do to girls? Or only gay guys? Definitely something only submissive… Oh yeah… that’s me now… submissive. She walked out of the bedroom and returned in under a minute with the large tote bag. As she set it on the bed and reached inside, she spoke rather casually, “Okay sweetie, let’s get that tushie of yours in a clean diaper.” I just lay there as she unfolded another diaper and then reached to yank open the tapes of the one I had on. She just smiled as she peeled down the front of it and looked at my limp cock. She turned and grabbed the baby wipes from the bag and popped a couple out. As she started to clean me off, she commented, “Getting more used to it Tommy? Having Mommy wipe around your little weewee? It’s not all hard this time.” I found myself spreading my legs without her asking as she reached to wipe my balls. All I could manage to say was, “I… I guess so. And we did have sex just before naptime. Sort of.” She smiled and reached for an ankle, just saying, “Yes, we did, didn’t we. Now lift your feet sweetie, so I can wipe your cute tushie.” I did as she asked but felt my face blushing. One thing to have a woman play with my junk, but now she was wiping my puckered hole. Her hand gently held my ankle as a way of letting me know to keep holding my feet up as she pulled the wet diaper away and pushed the new one under. At least I’m not messy, not like that time at Miss Beth’s. But that time I was so upset, I was just grateful to be clean again. My eyes widened a little as Mommy wriggled the baby wipe against my back hole. I bit my lip but couldn’t help but grunt a little when her finger penetrated me and then slipped out again. Before I could say anything, she was guiding my legs back down and saying, “There… all clean.” I lay there, secured in a fresh diaper as she handed me one of my own T-shirts. She must have packed it in my suitcase. All she said was, “Here sweetie, so you don’t catch cold. You won’t need pants tonight; I’ll just order some delivery.” Then she picked up the wet diaper and walked out of the bedroom. I sat up and slipped the T-shirt on. Then I sat there on the side of her bed and looked down at my bare, hairless legs, the white plastic cover of my diaper and thought. It’s obvious she’s manipulating me. Using her body and sex to get me to do things. But I’ve been going along with it. I can’t really say it’s against my will. Is this who I really am? Am I just a big baby? What did she call it, ‘Adult Baby’? But it’s more than just the sex. It’s… comforting… safety… knowing she’ll take care of me. And even though she spanks, she seems to really care about me. She truly enjoys taking care of me, changing my diapers. Having me…. Having me ‘play with my peepee’ in them. I heard her voice calling, “Tommy? Would Chinese food be all right? We’ve got drinks, how about some beef and broccoli?” Her voice broke my revery and I stood up. I heard my diaper crinkling as I waddled my way towards her voice. When I found her, sitting on the couch in the living room, phone in hand, I said meekly, “Can I have sweet and sour chicken instead? Would that be okay Mommy?” She looked up and smiled, then patted the cushion next to her. She simply said, “Of course pumpkin, come sit with me and I’ll order anything you’d like.” Then she looked back at her phone as her fingers tapped on it. I sat next to her and watched as she finished the order. She put down her phone and both of her hands took one of my hands as she snuggled a little closer. She kissed my cheek as she explained, “Don’t you worry, some night I’ll cook dinner for you myself. I’m really not that bad at it and I’ll prove it to you.” I smiled and replied, “Oh really? Like what?” She giggled and started rambling a little, “Oh, I don’t know. I have my mom’s meatloaf recipe. And I make a wicked chili. When I’m in the right mood I can make a scrumptious pot roast. Or some stuffed pork chops. I even made a nice leg of lamb once.” I chuckled, “What? No Italian?” She wrinkled her nose, “Eww…. Well, I suppose if I HAVE TO, I could make you some spaghetti. But no parmesan… That always smells yucky to me.” I winked and answered with, “Just as well. I HATE Italian.” She pushed away a little, then playfully balled her fist to softly punch my shoulder, “You little STINKER! You just asked to see if I liked it!” Then she was quiet for a moment as she looked into my eyes. Her voice was a whisper as she spoke, “Tommy… I think I’m falling in love with you.” I blinked a moment. I wasn’t sure I could say the same, but I was having strong feelings for her. After barely five seconds of silence, she leaned forward and put her arms around me again. She just whispered, “It’s okay, we’ll get there… together.” … After dinner, we cuddled on the couch, and she turned on the tv. She seemed to get interested in some movie. I tried to start a conversation, “So, if we moved in together, would I be in diapers all the time?” She gently swatted my thigh, “Shh… Mommy’s watching…” I sulked for a couple minutes. She’s the one that said the ‘L’ word, now she’s engrossed in some romance movie. I tried to pay attention to it, but it seemed like just another ‘Hallmark’ movie. Predictable plot, man and woman go back to their hometown, meet up after high school reunion, blah blah blah. A commercial came on and I tried again, “Maybe I could put my work computer in that other bedroom?” She glanced at me, then stood up. She went to her kitchen, and I heard the refrigerator open and close. When she walked back, both hands were full. A glass of wine, a tea towel, and a baby bottle. She set her wine on the end table as she sat. Then she put a small pillow on her lap and patted it. I hesitated, saying, “Carole… Can’t we…” Big mistake. Big BIG mistake! HUGE!!! Her eyes flashed like lightning as her hand reached for my arm and yanked hard. As I fell over, my head landing on the pillow, I heard her voice angrily say, “Do as mommy says! Or do you need a spanking?” I rolled onto my back and looked up at her as her hand shoved the tea towel around my neck like a bib. I felt my cheeks blushing as she pushed the nipple of the bottle into my mouth. Her brow was furrowed as she glared down at me; she lowered her voice to barely whisper. But it had an icy hardness to it as she said, “Call me Carole again and you won’t be able to sit for the rest of the weekend. Is that clear?” The vanilla flavored milk trickled into my mouth, and I gulped as I stared into her eyes. After a swallow I managed to talk around the nipple a little, lisping out an answer, “yeth mummy…” The commercial break was over, and I heard the movie coming back on. Mommy’s eyes shifted to the tv as her hand held the bottle in my mouth. For the next fifteen or so minutes, it was clear that for once, I was NOT the center of her universe. I was just, “something she had to take care of”. Like some other chore around the house, ‘feeding the baby’ was just something that she was doing while watching tv. I guess I can’t be the center of her world all the time. Or is this because I didn’t respond when she said she’s falling in love with me? Is this what life would be like sometimes with her? Taking care of her baby is sometimes just another bit of housework? I do care for her, she’s wonderful. Do I love her though? Growing up my family never used that word. Is it some hangup of mine? Not able to say it? As I remained quiet and suckled, she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. She set it down and her other hand wiggled the bottle as she glanced at it. All she said was, “Keep going, you’ve got about a third left.” Then she looked up at the tv again. I closed my eyes and pouted a little as I managed to suckle some more. I suddenly felt a pang of loneliness. Even though I was laying in her lap, I felt isolated and I wanted her arms to hug me. I turned my head a little and squirmed to press my ear and cheek against her tummy. I kept sucking, it helped a little. But soon the bottle was empty and I heard the sound of air being sucked through the nipple. She heard it, and maybe she sensed my anxiety. She tugged the bottle from my lips and I felt her reaching for something. Then the nipple of my pacifier pressed against my lips as I heard her voice again. This time more like the tender, loving woman that I had grown so attached with. She whispered, “Good job… here you go sweetie, suck your pacifier, it’ll make you feel better.” And this time her hand gently stroked my cheek and pulled me against her tummy. I nuzzled against her and felt better. I may not be her entire world again, but she’s over being mad. I lay against her as I started to feel drowsy. I wasn’t sure, but maybe she had dosed my bottle with that sleep aid again. I was feeling calm and relaxed. And I have to admit, sucking my pacifier was part of it. I was developing quite an ‘oral fixation’ at times. I drifted a while, trying to follow some dialog on the tv. Then I heard, “Coming up next on the ten o’clock news….” But it stopped as Mommy moved her arm, apparently shutting off the tv with the remote. Then I felt her fingers in my hair. I didn’t open my eyes, but wriggled a little, pushing half my face deeper against her belly. I heard a whisper, “that’s my good little baby.” I felt a warmth wash over me at her words. I was her world again. For about three seconds. Then her phone went off. I wished for her to ignore it as I felt her reaching. There was a pause, maybe she was about to send it to voicemail? Nope. “Hi, kind of late, what’s up?” I heard her answering the ring. “Yeah, I was just about to tuck the little guy into bed. He just finished his bedtime bottle.” I blushed and squirmed, who was she talking to? Telling them I had my… my bottle. Before I could protest though, she continued, “Okay, I’m on speaker now, Tommy can hear.” The voice from the phone was Miss Beth’s, “Good. Now, I had a thought about Thursday. I thought it might be nice if after Tommy looks at my web server, we have a bit of a dinner party.” I was fully awake again and my nervousness was obvious in the way I was sucking my pacifier again. The shield of it was bobbing against my lips as my eyes looked up at Mommy. It was clear that Mommy was intrigued, but wary. She answered cautiously, “A dinner party? How many guests did you have in mind? You know Tommy isn’t exactly up for public games.” Miss Beth seemed already ahead of Mommy. Her reply started before Mommy even finished, “Now don’t worry, just one other couple. You remember Sarah and Mikey? I thought it might help Tommy explore his sissy side if he could see Mikey as little Shelly.” Mommy glanced at me and bit her lip. Then she replied, “Yeah, I remember them. But I don’t have anything like that for Tommy. And I’m not sure if…” Again, Miss Beth was the one in charge, she kept going as if what my mommy said didn’t matter, “Oh don’t worry I have plenty of cute dresses and the like. You can bring him over, he can look at things, and then we can get him all dolled up. Who knows? Maybe he’ll enjoy being a little girl as much as Shelly. Won’t know until he tries it.” I started to say something, the pacifier falling from my lips, “Mommy? But… but what if I…” Mommy gently pulled me close, pulling my face into her chest and murmuring, “shh… let me handle this sweetie.” But Miss Beth was talking again, “Tommy? Do you remember last time? You can use your two words. Colorado for slow down, and Denver for stop. Do you remember those sweetie?” The phone was silent and Mommy was looking down at me. I nodded and whispered, “Yes… I remember Miss Beth.” Her response was warm and immediate, “Good BOY!! So, all you have to remember is those two words. And your mommy will be with you the whole time.” I wasn’t sure what I was letting myself in for, but knowing I had a lifeline, a way to get out, was calming. I looked up at Mommy and asked, “You’ll be with me? The whole time?” The effect on Mommy was instant. She smiled and pulled me against her chest again, “Of course I will sweetie. The whole time.” Then she spoke a little louder to Miss Beth, “Okay, we’ll give it a try. But don’t expect miracles Beth.” I heard the reply, “Great! Now, Katherine will serve dinner at six. And it might take a little while to get your cutie ready. So maybe come a little earlier? Say about three? My afternoon on Thursday is completely free. See you then.” And before Mommy or I could say another word, the phone beeped as Miss Beth hung up. I felt a little scared as I looked up at Mommy. I felt my voice crack a little as I asked, “Three more people? To see me as your …. Your little sissy now?” She tilted her head a little, “Three?” Then she giggled a little, “No sweetie… Mikey and Shelly are the same person. Mikey is Sarah’s husband. But sometimes he likes to dress up as a baby girl. Then he likes to be called ‘Shelly’.” I blinked trying to understand, “So… so he’s not a little boy like me?” Mommy smiled and tilted her head back a moment. Then she smiled again, “No, that’s not quite right either. You see, Mikey is a baby boy for Sarah just like you and me. But sometimes… well sometimes he plays… well, plays dress-up.” I felt my brow furrow a little, “So he’s not transitioning. Not like a girl trapped in a boy’s body.” Mommy smiled and nodded, “Exactly. Just because someone likes to role play and play dress-up, it doesn’t mean that’s what they want all the time. It just means they like to play.” I was starting to get it, “So, if you… You put me in a dress and stuff, it doesn’t mean you’re trying to turn me into a sissy, you just want to play like that for a little while?” Mommy grinned and nodded. Then she praised me with, “Exactly! We’d just be playing a little game for a while, then it can go back to you being my baby boy. Beth probably just thinks you might like to try it. And seeing how little Shelly has fun with her Sarah, might give you an idea what it can be like.” I thought for a moment. Then I felt Mommy’s hand slide down my tummy and cup the front of my diaper. As she gently squeezed she said softly, “And just think how embarrassing it might be for you, showing off your cute little diapered bottom with some frilly panties and a baby dress too short to cover things.” Between her hand and the thought of a roomful of grownups looking at me, bare legs exposed under some baby dress, my dick was starting to get hard. Mommy could feel it as she grinned at me, which just made me blush even more. She let go and patted my thigh as she said, “Thought so. Now come to bed, it’s getting late.” … I was lying in her bed, one hand on my crotch, as she came from the bathroom. She had on a long nightgown. She must have seen the disappointment in my eyes. After she climbed into bed with me, she smiled and reached for her breast. As her hand moved over the front of her nightgown she said, “Don’t worry sweetie… it’s a maternity gown, you still can have my titties to suck on.” And with that, sure enough, there was some folds she pushed aside and out came her breast. She leaned closer and gently put her nipple to my lips and whispered, “You go ahead and play with your peepee if you want darling. But Mommy’s a little sore from the huge toy she used this afternoon.” I rolled to face her and latched on. My cock was tingly, but I was also tired. Her hand stroked my hair as we snuggled. I let her shift her thigh between my legs and put my arm over her to hold her close. After a couple minutes and I wasn’t dry humping her leg or anything, she whispered in the dark, “There’s something else I should warn you about… About little Shelly.” “mmm?” I hummed as my lips stayed gently latched to her breast. She sounded a little nervous as she spoke, “Now I’m not saying I want this. And Sarah doesn’t make him wear it at home. But Shelly has this thing about being devoted to her and all.” I listened but I was starting to feel drowsy again. Looking back, maybe Mommy did put a sleep aid in my bottle. She went on, “So when he’s dressed up as a little girl, he likes to pretend he doesn’t have a cock and he puts on a chastity cage.” I stopped and my lips came away from her breast. She quickly added, “No… no… I’m not saying that you have to do that. Just… I just thought you should know because… because that’s just something they do.” I opened my eyes in the dark to look up at her from her chest and asked, “She keeps his cock locked up? As in… no sex?” She took a breath, “No… not like that. The way Sarah explained it to me is… well he’s got a premature ejaculation problem. Sometimes just a little flirting and he goes off. And he feels really bad if it’s in front of anyone but his wife. So, it’s more… more like a ‘marital aid’, then some punishment or control thing. He puts it on, not her. And it’s just so he feels… safe. He knows he won’t, you know, nut in front of somebody besides his wife.” I thought for a moment and asked warily, “So… you’re not saying…” “Nope. I told you before. I may make threats, but I like when my little boy gets his rocks off.” And to prove it, her hand slid between us and fussed with the front of the diaper I was wearing. Then I felt her cool fingers grip and pull my cock into position and started slowly stroking. Her fingers felt nice as she leaned to kiss the top of my head. She whispered, “Not every kink is for us sweetie. Just because someone else does something, we don’t have to. Now be a good baby, suck on mommy’s other tit while I help you make ickies in your diaper.” I felt her roll away a little and managed to find the other hole in the folds of her nightgown. Her fingers didn’t let go as I latched on. Her voice was in my ear, “That’s Mommy’s little boy… now let’s get those ickies out… make your little cummies for mommy.” My mind was flitting from one idea to another. She loves me, my diaper on display under a short baby dress, her nipple, sucking and sex… sucking and… and it makes me feel safe… I’m Mommy’s little boy… Is Mommy going to peg me …. Mommy spanks when I’m…N..nnnaughtyyyy….I grunted as I felt myself cumming. To Be Continued

Chapter 9: Crossing Lines The next class and office hours crept by faster for the rest of the day. She made sure to drink a second coffee to keep her awake in grading homework from her second class and reviewing her emails. She looked to the time, seeing 6PM was only thirty minutes away. She felt another blush creep up her neck at the idea of discussing the paper and conversation she was dreading, yet she had a busy day that required her full attention to finish up before leaving. Since her meeting was the last of the day on a Friday, she wanted to make sure she finalized her week and prepared for the next Monday she’d be back. She occupied those thirty minutes making sure to send out grades on her homework graded today, then go through her email and answer anything unresolved or questions from students. Claire had everything wrapped up by 5 minutes before 6, pulling out a copy of Mr. Prescott’s paper and nervously rearranging her desk, cleaning it to occupy more time in anticipation of their meeting. She could hear her fellow professors walking the halls or closing out for the night early and every passing step made her anxious of Mr. Prescott arriving. Claire checked her phone in idle anticipation, and a knock came to her open door. Kade Prescott stood there, casually leaning on the door with one hand in his pocket and a unmistakable smirk on his face. It was like there was already an unspoken narrative in his mind and his darkened expression made her feel unsettled. Given, her past few interactions were heated in intensity, yet this one was much different. Claire realized she was staring for a moment too long before storing her phone in her drawer, “Mr. Prescott, please, close the door and have a seat.” Kade nodded, closing the door softly and setting his backpack down near the chair, sitting back with his legs slightly spread with a confidence that was unlike his usual persona during lecture hours. Claire pushed the copy to him, decidedly going to debate him with all the confidence she had left after an exhausting day and ruminating on what she should say, “This is borderline inappropriate and the subject is…” She paused, feeling the intensity of his gaze and a smile playing on his lips, “in a fetish community that’s not within my usual scope of subcultures.” She blinked to his lips and humor flickering in his eyes as he stayed silent, thinking over his response. “Hm. Professor Grimmer, can you explain to me why it’s inappropriate? And, it’s a subculture, isn’t it?” Kade asked, leaning forward from his relaxed posture, propping up his elbows on his knees so his fingers brushed his full lips like he was confused. Claire felt a heat simmer underneath her skin, knowing her damn cheeks were probably betraying her as she visibly swallowed, “It has sexual context in some situations.” She opened the paper, highlights on the sexual references, “This isn’t part of professional writing and-” She paused, her brain scrambled on how to explain, feeling like she was suddenly walking herself in circles, “if sexual content is said, there should be an explicit-“ He cut her off, pointing to one of the paragraphs, “I made sure it contains an explicit academic justification paragraph, Professor Grimmer. See, it’s right there.” His fingers tapped, as if further showing her as if she didn’t read the whole thing. "Even so, Mr. Prescott, the explicit nature of some of your examples crosses the line into inappropriate content that, in my professional opinion, in unnecessary to even quote." She flipped to page four, where he had quoted directly from a conversation between community members. The words: "Daddy will have to put you in thicker diapers if you can't control yourself." jumped out at her, making her heart race with recognition. The phrasing was uncomfortably similar to something she had written on her LittleScribbler chapter post just last month. Kade watched her reaction with unsettling intensity with a purposeful pause, "I find it interesting that you recognize those phrases as explicitly sexual, Professor." His voice dropped lower, eyes still holding hers, "Many would read them as merely infantilizing, unless they were familiar with the subtext." Claire's mouth went dry, "As an educator, I'm familiar with many subcultures and their linguistics," she said stiffly, but the words sounded hollow even to her own ears as she continued, "That doesn't make this appropriate academic content." "I understand," Kane said, nodding thoughtfully. "But I wonder if your discomfort comes from the content itself... or recognition." He reached for his bag, extracting a folder of his own, "I did additional research that didn't make it into the final paper. I thought you might find it interesting." Claire's hand froze mid-air as he placed the folder on her desk and opened it to reveal printed pages of stories. Her stories. From the ABDL forum where she posted anonymously as Littlescribbler. Her username was highlighted in yellow at the top of each page, with particular passages underlined in red. Passages she had written late at night, alone in her apartment, never imagining they would be spread before her in her professional space. Her mind raced in thoughts for a moment, face becoming hot, so fucking hot, as she stared unblinkingly. "Where did you get these?" she whispered, unable to maintain her professional tone as panic flooded her system. Kade's expression remained calm, almost sympathetic, "The same place you posted them, Professor." He turned another page, revealing more of her writing. "Your work is quite respected in the community. Your character development, the emotional authenticity... many find it deeply relatable." Claire's vision blurred at the edges. The walls of her carefully constructed double life were collapsing around her. She gripped the edge of her desk, knuckles white with tension. "What do you want?" The question escaped her lips in a hush before she could stop herself, the immediate assumption being blackmail. Her career, her reputation, everything she'd worked for hung in the balance of this moment. Kade closed the folder slowly, his movements deliberate, “I’m not here to threaten you or expose who you are.” He said in a genuine voice as she met his knowing gaze, “I would like to propose something that would be equally beneficial for both parties.” She stuttered, her mind racing and she felt like the floor was falling, “So, in the simplest terms... a form of blackmail? Where you want a better grade in exchange you don’t tell anyone?” She swallowed in anger, another thought flicking through her head. "I'm here because we've been talking for months, and I think it's time we were honest with each other." Claire felt as though the floor had dropped from beneath her. "What are you saying?" But she already knew, a terrible certainty of who sat before her forming in her mind. Kade maintained steady eye contact as he leaned forward, his presence suddenly filling the small office, "I know who you are, Claire," he said, using her first name for the first time. The familiarity sent an unexpected shiver down her spine, "Just as you now know who I am." He paused, the moment suspended between them like a thread about to snap, "DaddyDominant24." A blush rose to her cheeks, the shock hitting her system and so many questions bubbling. One that immediately made her angry, realizing what this student could have done, “So, was this all a... a game to you?" Her eyes suddenly becoming watery through her anger, "Did you know this whole semester who I was?” Her gut feeling the punch of someone like him that she had feelings for using her for their own academic gain. He shook his head with a hurt yet honest look, “No, of course not. It was a real… relationship. I meant everything I said and genuinely enjoyed our roleplay.” He paused on saying relationship, not knowing any other word to describe what they had, “I didn’t know until last Friday when I came into your office. I saw your bracelet, had never noticed it before and then I saw your profile picture. I put the two together.” Kade said slowly, letting her soak in his honest words, hoping she knew he was being completely genuine. Claire gulped, feeling suddenly hot from remembering all their conversations and connecting it all to this man’s face. No, student’s face… yet in their roleplay he was her daddy. God, her brain was so flustered it didn’t know how to even process this revelation! Kade had only sat back for the few moments that she'd looked lost, watching her with practiced patience to allow her to think. She finally spoke, “So, then, what exactly do you want or expect from telling me this?” Kade’s gaze darkened as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees again as he said, “To continue our role play... in real life.” Claire blinked three times. One blink for surprise, the next in consideration and the third blink bringing her back to reality, “That’s unethical and breaking our student teacher relationship. I… can’t.” Kade smirked, “Why can’t you? I graduate in two months, then we can continue openly exploring whatever this is.” He motioned between them. Claire shook her head, her professional mask trying to maintain it’s hold on her, “You may not graduate in two months and I’m not going to budge on my grading just because of, well, whatever this is.” She finally acknowledged the forming relationship and their online chats. Kade shook his head, “That’s not what I’m after. I’ve accepted my scholarship loss and possible summer school. That doesn't mean I’m not determined to still make it in your class.” He paused, shrugging, “I’d like a tutor and I could use additional help. So, my proposition is your mentorship to improve and we continue our relationship in role play discrete in real life.” Claire’s mouth watered and her stomach was doing dolphin flips at the implications of being caught within this. But why did that make her feel excited and not terrified? Claire shook her head, “I… tutoring I could perhaps do, but, this is already... overwhelming.” Yet, she didn’t want to say no. She couldn’t pull herself to just cut it off. Claire had just spent the week worrying about this daddy dominant that understood her at her core. Was she going to give that opportunity away? She opened and closed her mouth a few times before saying, “I need to think this over.” She said in a husky, breathless voice. “I understand, Claire.” She blinked at the delight in hearing her name from his more dominant, confident tone he held suddenly. She wondered how she’d feel by hearing his praise or phrases she’d only imagined by chat. He continued, eyes watching her contemplatively, “Can I invite you to coffee tomorrow to discuss further? I’m not trying to convince you into something that you don’t consent to. I’m still the same person you met 4 months ago online. I care and I’d like to hear your boundaries and expectations if you decide to go forward with this... If you decide to accept, that is.” He paused, debating saying more, then just saying it, “When I first found out, I was upset with you and between leaving this whole thing. The fact that you’ve degraded and humiliated me in front of the class, made me feel incompetent this entire semester, yet at night I was the one in control and that made me feel alive.” “I thought about it this whole week, about you… And I can’t imagine not seeing whatever this is through. You need me more than you’d like to admit and I need you in more ways I’d like to admit. On top of that, if we spent extra time together, I’d like to spend some of that time to improve my writing.” He gave her a sincere look, abashed of his admittance of his shortcoming, “I need a tutor and have hired, but their advice and help failed me my first paper in your class. I’m a creative writer at heart and struggle with this, more than I care to admit.” Claire listened to him, hearing his words and the genuine, kindness and care that she felt across their messaging. Seeing it online was one thing but hearing it in his deeper voice with sincerity was a new level. From seeing him in this conversation, she was taken aback by this new side that was charming, attractive, considerate and his dominant tone made her want to squirm, yet she held strong and kept frozen in her seat. Claire hesitated before nodding, “Sure-” She sighed with a pause, “on the condition we go somewhere thirty minutes from campus.” His green eyes bounced in happiness of her words, “But, this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to anything... yet. This is dangerous. We could both lose things. We’d have to conduct any public appearance as a mentor and student. Nothing suggestive of anything else.” She said quickly, gulping at the adrenaline coursing through her at this conversation she'd never thought she'd have with a student. She felt dirty, gross in some way; however, she couldn't resist the curiosity. She needed to hear more and think this through in full, although the easiest answer could have been 'no' right then and there. “Understood.” He said with a wickedly handsome smile showing his canines. A smile she hadn’t seen from Kade Prescott since he entered her classroom. He added, “However, just know that if you do choose to agree to roleplay in private, I still plan to pay you back in being strict the way you’ve been this semester.” He paused, eyes flickering with a feral intensity that conveyed she’d be in trouble, yet his look only made a warmth travel down to her lower abdomen, “Something tells me you’d like that though.” He tilted his head, humor flickering in his eyes in a knowing smirk. Claire felt pleasurable tingling in her bones from his words as she let down her professional mask, blushing and biting her lip, “Fair enough.” She nodded to the paper, “I’m still going to request you to rewrite your paper on another subculture and I’ll grade the new one. We can discuss it over coffee tomorrow too, if you’d like help.” Kade licked his lips, “And you’re just asking for me to be stricter, hm?” He asked, before gathering his papers and placing them in his folder before zipping his bag. She felt her blush spread downwards, making her lower abdomen feel an unwelcomed tingle. He went to the door, turning before leaving, “10AM at Greenwood Roastery?” Claire nodded, gathering her own items to close out for the day, “We’ll discuss your next paper there. I’ll see you then, Prescott.” She said, her professional tone switching in. He smiled widely again, opening the door, “Thanks, Professor Grimmer. See you then.” Claire sat back with a sigh, wondering if she had made the worst or best decision of her life. Claire was too smart for her own good and knew exactly what she was doing. There had been a part of her that was worn out of playing by the rules, trying to prove to her parents and everyone she was chasing an impossible standard of perfection for some time now. The conversation with Kade only somehow summoned another facet of herself that hid underneath her stone cold professor surface. A new, rebellious part of her stirred and had tempted her with a decision that could change her future forever. Whether that tarnish it or she could get away with this unscathed, her desire to chase her fantasies was far greater than her care at the moment of her future. It was the stupidest idea, yet, for once, Claire was deciding against logic and harnessing her power of choice to do what she wanted for once in her goddamn life. It felt freeing. It felt right... for her and no one else's perception of what she should be or do, even if it was against everything she'd stood for in ethics at her university. With Kade, she could finally be her... the real her. The version of her that didn't need to prove anything and could be raw, unfiltered. Without or, well, preferably with some restraints but only those inflicted by her daddy. This was the only chance she had and, in that moment before closing out for the night, she decided to go forward without holding back her true self with him, knowing her whole career may go up in flames by that alone and accepting that possibility. Claire Grimmer was perhaps one of the best, youngest and most cunning professors the school could have; however, perhaps she was morally grey and shouldn't be in the profession if she truly considered this possible relationship. That one thought may force her to reconsider everything she thought her future would look like, and that was a hard pill to swallow that she'd decide to sort on another day as she walked to her car, going home with hundreds of thoughts swirling in her mind.

So I'm writting this as I'm set to land almost two days later than when I was supposed to arrive back home. Ugh, anyways I was able to get this one chapter finished. Yes it does end not on a cliffhanger but a "Tune in Next Time" kinda vibe instead of a hold your breath moment. Plus that next time might be late tonight or early Monday morning, as now I get to relax sans family & white beaches. Really proud of this chapter and how it echoes past dreams, new goals/realities and a future of competing voices for care. Chapter Eighty-Five: Paul woke up to something he hadn’t felt in months. Quiet. Not the kind that meant the house was empty or somebody was mad. A deeper quiet—inside him. No panic in his throat. No static in his limbs. No dread waiting at the edge of his thoughts like a dog on a short chain. This morning there was no panic. The most important thing was simple. He was Paul. He lay still, letting that reality settle. Letting his body prove it again with each slow breath. Rain ticked against the window in soft, patient taps, like the sky had lowered its voice out of respect. Then the memories came. Not all at once. In fragments. Sensations before images. Warmth first—the way the new pajamas had wrapped around him, soft and loose, the fabric holding heat without pressing in. The feeling of being settled. Contained. His body remembered before his mind wanted to. Then voices. Good boy. The words flickered through him, sharp and sweet at the same time. He could hear both of them—his parents—low, steady, pleased in that quiet way that didn’t ask anything more from him. The memory of sitting between them, being fed without hurry, without expectation. The rhythm of it. Spoon. Pause. Swallow. Breathe. And then—inevitably—the crown jewel. His father’s arms. Paul squeezed his eyes shut as the image sharpened against his will. Bryan’s chest solid behind him. The rocking chair’s slow creak. The bottle warm against his mouth. The impossible contradiction of it—how much he hated needing it, how deeply his body had wanted it anyway. Being cradled. Being rocked. Being allowed to stop. The shame flared, quick and hot. His adult mind recoiled on instinct, cataloging the moment as something to be buried, minimized, explained away later. That wasn’t me. And yet—threaded through the discomfort—was something softer, more dangerous. Relief. Regression worked. He couldn’t deny that now. Mindy hadn’t been wrong. Kim hadn’t been wrong. His parents hadn’t imagined it. And that realization scared him more than the chaos ever had. What if this is the only way forward? What if the part of me that functions is the part that disappears? Paul sat up slowly, grounding himself in the present. Morning light filtered across the room. His Batman plush lay crooked beside him, abandoned mid-hug sometime in the night. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, steady, fully himself. His hands trembled once, then steadied. The shower helped—hot water, steam, familiar routine. He let it wash the lingering softness from his skin, the faint scent of vanilla still clinging like a secret. He stood under the water longer than necessary, letting it hit his shoulders until the last trace of sleep fog faded. When he stepped out, he felt normal again in a way that made him almost giddy with it—like he’d been holding his breath for months and finally inhaled. He towel-dried, wrapped it around his waits and walked out of his bathroom/walk in closet combo and automatically toward the doorway. His fingers closed on empty air. Paul blinked. He turned. There was no door. Not cracked. Not broken. Not half-open. Gone. A cold thread ran through his stomach—not panic, not yet, but something sharp and immediate. His first instinct was anger. His second was embarrassment that his first instinct was anger. “What—?” he started, voice catching on the word. Footsteps in the hall. Bryan appeared first, then Lilly beside him, both of them calm in the way parents get when they’ve already agreed on something and don’t want to make it a fight. Paul’s eyes flicked between them, searching for the line where concern became control. Lilly followed his gaze and pointed upward with a gentle tilt of her chin. “The camera,” she said softly. Paul’s eyes tracked to the small lens mounted high in the corner. He remembered Lilly telling him about it before Harley’s first visit, back when it had been explained like a temporary precaution. “We put it in for safety,” Lilly said, voice steady. “When Harley first came by. So we could rewind if something seemed off.” “And now?” Paul asked, trying to keep his voice even. “Now it’s in monitoring mode,” Bryan said. “After yesterday with Martina, you locked her out and then fell asleep and nobody could see or talk to you. So we watched the footage because we didn’t know what was happening. So that’s why the door is off, we had to get in. Moving forward we’ve enabled the Two-way communication. And the video monitoring will only be used at night and when you nap. So, if you need something, you don’t have to shout. The video isn’t on all day.” Paul’s jaw tightened as he swallowed. His adult side rose up, rigid and surged instantly. Surveillance. Loss of privacy. This is it—they’re turning me into-. “So I’m not allowed to be alone now?” he snapped. Lilly didn’t flinch. She moved closer instead, lowering her voice. “You’re allowed to be safe.” Lilly’s voice carried that new steadiness she’d been practicing—soft, yes, but not negotiable. She gestured to the camera. “If you need something, you don’t have to yell. We’ll hear you.” Bryan added quietly, “You’ll get the door back. But the lock stays off for now.” Paul’s chest tightened. Big side screamed this is permanent. Little side whispered someone’s listening is that so bad? Both felt dangerous. Paul opened his mouth to argue—because that’s what “Paul” did when he felt cornered. But the memory of last night whispered its own counterargument. You were safe. You slept. And a smaller, darker truth sat behind it: You can’t pretend you haven’t needed help. Paul nodded once. Not agreement. Acceptance. Lilly stepped closer and took his hand—warm, steady, grounding—and guided him toward the changing table, where Bryan already a fresh diaper in hand. The new normal wasn’t announced. It was practiced. And that, more than anything, made Paul’s chest ache. The call with Elie was what saved him from spiraling. It came mid-morning, sunlight brighter now, the world outside sharp and clean like it wanted to be ordinary. Paul angled his all-in-one PC camera at his desk, adjusted his hair twice like he cared, then told himself not to be weird. No oneise, just plastic pants covering his diaper hidden from view and his Florida Panther’s jersey worn proudly. The desk still smelled faintly of baby powder from his change earlier, to his dad’s credit and honor his door was reattached but unlockable now, also Lilly turned off the nanny cam and Paul positioned the change table away in a corner not visible on camera. Taking a deep breath, he accepted the incoming call. Her face popped onto the screen from a dorm room that looked like a life in progress—posters taped crookedly, string lights dimmed, a half-open suitcase on the floor like she’d never fully unpacked because she didn’t want to pretend this was permanent. This version of Elie felt different from the girl he’d danced with. Her brown hair wasn’t pulled back tightly now—it fell loose around her shoulders, slightly messy in a way that looked intentional without trying. She wore an oversized university sweatshirt that had clearly survived at least one all-night study session, sleeves pushed up to reveal ink smudges on her wrist. Minimal makeup, if any. Freckles more visible. Eyes alert, curious, alive. Not polished. Not performative. Very real. Behind her, a fossil-shaped keychain dangled from the edge of her desk lamp like a tiny flag of allegiance. A mug near her elbow read: “I Dig This.” It was stupid. It was perfect. Elie looked like the kind of person who could be messy and still somehow be going somewhere. “Okay,” Elie said immediately, grinning, “if I look like a goblin from this angle, I’m suing my laptop.” Paul laughed—real, unguarded. The sound surprised him. “I promise you look… very non-goblin,” he said, then realized how stupid that sounded and laughed again, and she laughed with him like it wasn’t embarrassing at all. That was the first gift she gave him. Ease. They talked like people who had only known each other briefly but somehow had already decided it was safe to keep going—like they were both testing the water and finding it warm enough not to retreat. Elie started with dinosaurs, because of course she did. “It was the original Jurassic Park,” she said, leaning closer to the camera like it mattered. “I was seven and totally obsessed. Not even scared—just obsessed.” Paul’s eyebrows lifted. “Seven-year-old you wasn’t scared?” “Oh, I was scared,” she corrected, grinning. “But in the best way. Like… the kind of fear that makes you want to understand the thing instead of run from it.” She told him about the character named Ellie—how ridiculous it felt at first, like the movie was calling her out personally, and how it somehow made her love it more. “I remember telling my mom I was going to dig up dinosaurs,” she added. “She asked if I meant as a hobby or a career and I was like, ‘Yes.’” Paul snorted. “That tracks.” “Don’t ‘that tracks’ me,” Elie laughed. “You are absolutely a theater kid. I can hear it in your soul.” Paul pointed at his jersey in the screen like she’d caught him cheating. “Excuse you—I’m an athlete and artist. I contain multitudes.” “Sure you do, Walt Whitman,” she shot back, and Paul laughed so hard he forgot to brace. “Like I was saying before that dramatic turns of events, then I found out paleontology is real,” she said, eyes brightening, “and I was done for. The past became… not dead. Just waiting.” Paul listened, drawn in. He could feel his brain stretch in a way it hadn’t in a long time—not around fear, but around curiosity. Around possibility. Elie described a dig she’d done in the Badlands in Utah as a high school senior—hot air that made your lungs feel dusty, sunburned shoulders no matter how much sunscreen you reapplied, red dirt that coated your shoes and hair and clothes until you looked like you belonged to the landscape. She talked about learning patience—how excavation wasn’t about discovery so much as restraint, knowing when not to rush. “I found a fragment,” she said. “It was tiny. Nothing you’d put in a museum. But I cried anyway.” “Why?” Paul asked, softly. Elie blinked like she hadn’t expected the question to land so deep. “Because it was proof,” she said. “That something can survive a long time buried. And still matter.” Paul felt the words lodge somewhere in him. He didn’t say why. Instead he told her about performance—the stage, the rush of becoming someone else for a while. He talked about basketball first, almost out of habit, how movement helped him burn off noise, how the game forced him to be present. “But… performance is different,” he said after a moment. “When I’m doing a reading or a debate, it’s like I get to step outside myself and borrow a spine from a character who isn’t scared.” Elie tilted her head, considering him. “That makes so much sense,” she said. “Like… rehearsal as survival.” Paul smiled faintly. “Exactly.” “Okay, but important follow-up,” she added lightly. “What kind of roles?” “Anything,” Paul admitted. “Sometimes the ones that are like me. Sometimes the ones that are the opposite. The challenge is… finding the truth in someone else.” He didn’t realize until he said it how badly he wanted that right now. A truth he could stand inside. They drifted, naturally, into lighter territory—favorites and small preferences that felt like stakes in the ground. Elie confessed her favorite Italian dish was cacio e pepe because it looked simple and punished impatience. She admitted she wanted to see Venice not because it was romantic, but because it felt fragile—like something you had to witness before it disappeared. She talked about loving parrots because they remembered people. About fashion from the forties and fifties—structure, intention, clothes that knew where they were going. Paul countered with his own lists: NFL Sundays, NBA playoffs, the way sports commentary became its own language. And then—hesitantly—he told her about jazz. “I don’t play yet,” he said. “But I want to. I love saxophone stuff from the fifties. Like… Paul Desmond. ‘Take Five.’ That solo feels like breathing.” Elie’s face lit up. “Yes. That. That sound feels like—like a secret city.” They sat in that shared enthusiasm, smiling at their screens, two people discovering that liking things was easier when no one was judging the list. And then—like it was nothing—she checked her blood sugar. She didn’t announce it dramatically. Didn’t apologize. She just did it. “Hang on,” she said, glancing down. “Low-ish.” Paul hesitated. “That’s… normal for you?” Elie shrugged, casual as weather. “Juvenile diabetes since birth. You adapt. You learn your rhythms.” No shame. No pity. No performance. Just truth, carried lightly. Something in Paul’s chest cracked open. It wasn’t that their challenges were the same—they weren’t. He knew that. But watching her live with something ongoing, visible, managed rather than erased, shifted something fundamental in him. Normal, suddenly, didn’t feel like a myth. If she could build a future that included her condition without apology—if she could speak about it without flinching—maybe he wasn’t doomed. Maybe he was just… different. And different didn’t have to mean finished. When the call ended, Paul sat there staring at his own reflection in the dark screen. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t see an ending. He saw a maybe. His thoughts we’re interrupted, obviously Lilly had turned the nanny cam back on calling him downstairs for an early lunch. Shaking his head but still outright radiating positivity Paul got up from his desk and headed downstairs and that’s where the smell hit him halfway down the stairs. Grilled chicken wings. Green chili. Chipotle. His favorite. Paul rushed the last steps, excitement bubbling up in him like it couldn’t be contained. Bryan was at the counter, plating. Lilly was already setting things out with practiced ease. Paul came in like sunlight. “I talked to Elie,” he blurted, barely able to hold it in. “She’s—she’s so cool, like—actually cool, not fake cool. She’s in her dorm and it’s like… her life is just happening.” Lilly smiled, and Bryan’s eyes softened the way they always did when Paul sounded like himself again. “What did you talk about?” Lilly asked, letting him have the stage. “Dinosaurs,” Paul said, laughing. “She’s obsessed. Paleontology. She did this dig in Utah—like, actual digging bones. And she just… loves it. Like it’s not a phase, it’s who she is.” Bryan nodded like he was filing it away—Paul connecting, Paul reaching outward, Paul building something not built on survival. “And she’s got diabetes,” Paul added quickly, then paused, realizing how it might sound. But his eyes were bright, not heavy. “And she just… said it. Like it wasn’t shameful. Like it was just part of her life.” Lilly’s smile softened into something almost tender. Paul didn’t realize what he was doing, but he was telling them: I saw a future. It didn’t break her. Maybe it won’t break me. Then Bryan stepped in front of him and tugged his jersey off and quickly stuck a finger through the leg gatherings of his plastic pants & diaper without asking. Paul froze, instinctive embarrassment flashing across his face. “Hey—” “You’re wet,” Bryan said evenly. Not cruel. Not shaming. Just matter-of-fact. “We’ll change you before your nap.” Paul’s cheeks burned—worse because Elie’s laughter was still in his head, because normal had been so close he could taste it. He hadn’t meant to. He’d just… decided it was fine. He’d wanted lunch more than he’d wanted to go upstairs. He hadn’t realized how much. Lilly stepped in and tied the safari bib around his neck, quick and gentle. “There,” she said softly. “You good?” Paul nodded, swallowing down the embarrassment with the same stubbornness he used to swallow fear. He sat. He ate like he was starving for life. Sticky fingers, messy face, wing sauce on his hands. Baby carrots and celery with ranch. His sippy cup cold and heavy. And for once—Lilly and Bryan didn’t hover to correct him every second. They let him be. Let him feed himself, talk, laugh, get messy and shine. Bryan’s happiness was almost impossible to hide. Lilly’s relief sat quieter but just as real. They listened as Paul told them about Elie’s love of Venice, of old fashion, of parrots and islands—his voice rising with energy, with excitement, with something like hope. And then Paul said it, almost casually—like it was just another idea, not a grenade. “You know… I was thinking,” he said, reaching for another wing. “If I can feel like this again—if I can… keep building—getting better that maybe I could try community college next fall. Just for a year. Get back on track. Then transfer to state.” The air changed. Not dramatically. Subtly. Like the temperature dropped one degree and everyone noticed. Bryan and Lilly exchanged a look—tiny, practiced, the kind of look married people share when they’re holding a truth they don’t want to put in the room yet. Not before Harley arrived. Not before nap. Not before Paul’s hope had finished speaking. So they nodded. Smiled. Let him keep dreaming for a few more minutes. Because telling him now would feel like snapping the pencil in his hand mid-sentence. Both Bryan and Lilly—each in their own way—were already mourning the version of Paul who thought effort automatically led to outcomes. And Paul—Paul didn’t see the dread behind their calm. He only felt the sound of his own voice sounding like a future again. As lunch was winding down, Bryan refilled Paul’s sippy cup with the last of the carrot-kale-apple juice - and, per Mindy’s request, discreetly added the half-dose to help Paul reset during his nap. “You finish this,” Bryan said gently, “then we’ll head upstairs.” Paul sighed but nodded. Lilly leaned her elbows on the counter, voice soft and clear. “Remember your Dad & I are going out for a bit,” she said. “We’ll be back later. So, when you wake up, we won’t be here, but Harley will be watching you.” Paul’s eyes flicked up. “That’s right that’s today?” “Today,” Bryan confirmed. “And you get to choose—big or little. Or a mix. You’re not trapped in one.” Paul swallowed, trying to hold onto the word choose like it could protect him. “And no electronics,” Lilly added, “unless Harley puts the TV on. That’s still part of your punishment.” “I know… I remember,” he said—only it came out slower than usual, the words stretching like they were wading through honey. That was when the sound reached them. The soft, hollow tap of the empty sippy cup settling back onto the table. Bryan glanced up first. Not dramatically—just a quick, knowing look that caught the way Paul’s shoulders had begun to sag, how his spine no longer held itself quite so proudly. “Well,” she murmured, more to Bryan than to Paul, “there it is.” Paul blinked, once, twice—then yawned. A big one. Jaw stretching wide, eyes squeezing shut. He inhaled, exhaled… and then yawned again. And again. Three in a row, each one stealing a little more of his uprightness. “Uh-oh,” Bryan said softly hoping only Lilly was paying attention, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Sounds like Beddy-Bye Time just rolled in.” Lilly smiled, already pushing her chair back. “I was wondering how long he’d last.” Paul didn’t protest. He just slumped slightly, the fight leaving him all at once, his head dipping forward as if gravity had suddenly doubled. By the time Bryan’s hand came to rest on Paul’s shoulder—warm, steady, familiar—Paul’s eyes were struggling to stay open. Bryan gave a gentle nudge toward the stairs, not rushing, not forcing. “C’mon, buddy,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you tucked in.” Paul shuffled along, feet heavy, blinking hard as if trying to convince the world to stay clear just a little longer. But the day had caught up with him, which felt off. By the time Bryan’s hand rested on his shoulder, guiding him toward the stairs, Paul could barely keep his eyes focused. Paul’s legs stalled before his mind did. One second, he was trying—really trying—to keep up, to be big, to make it the rest of the way on his own. The next, the world tilted into that familiar wobble where his feet felt heavier and more slow to use, like they belonged to someone younger, someone with weak balance and strength. His breath hitched, frustration bubbling up as he fell slightly forward while climbing the stairs. Catching himself with his hands. Bryan noticed right away. He paused, took a steady breath as if grounding himself first, then knelt smoothly in front of Paul. Not rushed. Not worried. Just calm. “Hey, buddy,” he said, low and even. “I’ve got you.” Before Paul could argue—or slump—Bryan scooped him in one practiced motion, settling him across his shoulder before standing up using the railing for support. Paul’s world tipped sideways, then stilled. Bryan’s hand came up, firm and familiar, giving a reassuring pat that landed on his soggy bottom like punctuation: safe, steady, here. Paul’s face flared hot. “Dad—” “Dad’s got you,” Bryan said again, close enough that Paul could feel the words vibrate through his chest. Paul’s face warmed instantly. It wasn’t shame exactly—more that prickly, flustered feeling and then there was Lilly. She followed just behind them, and unlike Bryan’s stillness, she was motion—“Ooooh,” she sang gently, drawing the sound out in a low, musical curve. “There he is… there’s my big, tired guy…” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it danced. She added little sounds between words—tiny clicks of her tongue, a gentle tsk-tsk of sympathy, a breathy mm-mm-mm that wrapped around Paul like a blanket. “Awwww,” she cooed, stretching the word into something warm and floaty. Her eyes were wide and gentle, eyebrows lifting and lowering in slow, exaggerated waves. Her mouth made small, encouraging shapes—rounded oohs and sympathetic oh nos—not teasing, not drawing attention, just inviting him back into ease. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice dropping softer now. “We sees you. You’re okay, Paul. Just rest those tired bones…” The warmth in Paul’s cheeks lingered, but it shifted—less embarrassment now, more something else. A strange, floaty feeling. Maybe it was how tired he actually was. Maybe it was the gentle sway of Bryan’s steps. Maybe it was the way Lilly’s voice filled the space behind him, turning the moment into something almost silly, almost cozy. It felt weird. And a little funny. And very, very safe. Bryan set him down on the changing table, steadying him with one hand as the room swayed slightly around Paul’s vision. The changing pad crinkled softly beneath him, a familiar sound that landed somewhere deeper than thought. Paul registered it the way you register rain on a roof: present, constant, reassuring. As his wet diaper was removed, cool air brushed briefly against Paul’s skin, followed almost immediately by warmth again—hands, the smell of lavender wipes rose clean and sharp, cutting through the lingering heaviness of the day so far. His body responded before his pride could object. Muscles that usually stayed braced—back, thighs, hands—released in stages, like a long-held breath finally let go. The tension in his face smoothed; the faint lines at his brow softened, not erased but quieted. His mouth twitched once, then settled into something looser, almost peaceful. The fresh diaper was fastened snugly—not tight, not restrictive, just secure. The pressure was even, grounding, like a steadying hand at his lower back. It made his hips feel held in place, anchored, the way weighted blankets do when sleep feels out of reach. Paul made a small sound then—not words, not thought-through—just a soft exhale that came out warmer than expected. It surprised him, even through the haze. Lilly moved around the bed prepping it for Paul, while Bryan finished, pulling back the covers, arranging pillows. The pajamas went on smoothly—soft cotton sliding over his arms, the safari print familiar, contained, consistent with the night before. Each layer added warmth, a sense of enclosure, until the outside world felt very far away. When Bryan lifted him down, Paul’s feet padded against the floor, the plastic pants whispering faintly with each step. The sound didn’t register as embarrassment now—just information. Just proof of where he was, and that he was being guided somewhere safe. By the time Paul climbed into bed, his thoughts had thinned to impressions instead of sentences. The mattress dipped under his weight; the sheets were cool at first, then quickly warm. The faint scent of detergent and vanilla lingered, clean and neutral. Lilly tucked him in, grabbing his Batman plush and tucking it tightly under his left arm before smoothing the blanket over him with a care that didn’t ask him to deserve it. Ensuring that she once again returned Paul’s paci back into his mouth with ease. Her hand lingered at his shoulder for just a second longer than necessary—not holding him down, not keeping him there, just making sure he was settled. Paul’s eyes fluttered once. Twice. The room hummed softly—the distant sound of the house, the low murmur of adult voices elsewhere, the steady certainty that someone was nearby if needed. Harley arrived ten minutes early. That alone didn’t go unnoticed. Bryan saw her through the front window first—bright movement at the edge of the driveway, a flash of color against the neutral palette of the house. She was already halfway through unfastening her vintage roller blades when he opened the door, balanced easily on one foot like it was second nature. “Oh—hi!” Harley said, cheerful but not loud, already stepping onto the entry mat as she tugged the second blade free. She wore a dress that walked a careful line: fitted but not tight, patterned in cheerful geometry that felt more elementary-school mural than nightclub. A cardigan sat loose over her shoulders, sleeves pushed up, practical and soft. Her bubble gum pink hair was pulled back today—not severe but restrained—and her makeup was lighter than the last time Bryan had seen her on the recording. Bright, still, but muted enough to signal intention. Miss Frizzle meets hot daycare worker, Bryan thought before he could stop himself. Pink, fuzzy socks peeked out as she straightened, toes curling slightly against the cool hardwood. She set down her bright pink baby bag—unapologetically labeled, zippered, well-organized—and Bryan’s eyes flicked to it automatically. Too bright, his instincts warned. But then he remembered Paul at the table. Calm. Focused. Smiling. “Come on in,” Bryan said, stepping aside. “We appreciate you being early.” “Early is good,” she said, almost bouncing on the word. “Rushing makes everybody fussy, don’t it?” That, more than anything, gave him pause. They stood together in the foyer for a moment—Harley adjusting the strap of her bag, Bryan folding his arms loosely—not adversarial, but appraising. Two adults measuring intention without saying so. Bryan needed a name attached to the energy standing in his doorway. “Bryan,” he said, extending a hand. “Paul’s dad.” Harley’s face lit instantly—bright, animated, soft around the edges. She took his hand with both of hers for half a second longer than necessary, not invasive, just… enveloping. “Oh my gosh, hi,” she said warmly, voice lilting upward in that unmistakable daycare cadence. “I’ve heard so much about you. You must be so proud of your big guy.” Big guy. Bryan clocked it immediately—not offended, but alert. The phrase wasn’t inappropriate. It was… telling. “I am,” he said carefully. “And grateful you’re here.” Harley beamed. “Happy to help. We’re gonna have a nice afternoon, aren’t we?” she added, sing-song, as if Paul could hear her already. That was when Bryan noticed it; every time she spoke, no matter how adult the content, there was a softness threaded through it. A tone meant to reassure. To guide. To lower the temperature of a room. Comfort as default setting. He didn’t know yet whether that was a gift or a liability. “I wanted to thank you,” Bryan said finally. “For how you handled Paul the other day.” “Aww,” she said gently. “He did so good. Such a good listener when he feels safe.” Safe landed heavier than Bryan expected. He agreed, surprised by the relief in his own voice. “Can I ask you something?” “Please.” “What draws you to this kind of work?” It wasn’t a test. Not exactly. But it wasn’t idle either. Harley leaned against the wall, thoughtful. For the first time since entering the house, her energy shifted—not dimmed, but focused inward. “I like helping people feel safe enough to stop performing,” she said. “Especially kids. Especially when their bodies are louder than their words. When they’re all wiggly and confused and don’t know what they need yet. I like being the one who says, ‘Shh, shh, I got you.” Bryan nodded slowly. She smiled then—too quick, too bright—and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out, sing-song and animated, like muscle memory: “I mean—who wouldn’t want to hug and squeeze the little chaos monsters until they finally relax? Give them structure, routine—maybe change a diaper, give a bath—teach them the world isn’t scary if someone’s got you.” She froze. Just for a second. Her eyes flicked up to Bryan’s face. “—Sorry,” she said quickly, straightening. Bryan blinked. He didn’t recoil. But something inside him recalibrated. He’d known caregivers like this before—teachers, sitters and nanny’s—people who carried softness like a tool. Most of them learned when to turn it off. Harley hadn’t yet. Or maybe she didn’t want to. Still, there was no malice there. No cruelty. Just hunger—for usefulness, for closeness, for being needed in a way that felt… absolute. That was what unsettled him and yet—Paul had responded positively to her kind of care; the same kind Lilly and Bryan were now trying to weave into their own lives. He couldn’t ignore that, not for his son’s sake and wellbeing. But when she added, quieter now, “I really do believe in care,” Bryan believed her. He just didn’t know where her lines were. Or if they matched his. Lilly joined them then, tablet already in hand, her presence smoothing the room the way she always did—unhurried, composed, but never casual. She greeted Harley warmly, a smile that reached her eyes without spilling over. The kind of greeting that said welcome without saying take over. Harley brightened immediately. “Oh hi, Miss Lilly!” she chimed, voice lifting into that familiar sing-song register, soft and inviting. “Everything all set for our fun afternoon?” Lilly noted it—not with judgment, but with interest. “We’ve set up a nanny camera in Paul’s room,” Lilly said, passing Harley the tablet. Her voice stayed even, professional, maternal without being indulgent. “Just his room. No video during the day unless he’s sleeping—like you’re seeing here now. However, the audio and two-way communication will always be on, in case he needs something and you’re not with him.” Lilly kept the other facts of the other two nanny cameras in the house, Harley hadn’t earned every once of truth, yet. Plus the tablet she gave her didn’t include the signal for the other two cameras. And this time Harley came to the house without a phone in hand. Harley’s fingers wrapped around the tablet immediately—not possessive, but attentive. She adjusted her grip, tilting the screen slightly as if aligning herself with it. “Oh, that’s perfect,” Harley said brightly. “A lot of parents I sit for have these.” She laughed softly, then added—baby talk creeping in thicker now, almost reflexive—“But I’ll be honest, Mr. and Mrs. Goldhawk, there’s never a moment when your little one leaves my sights. I’m very good at keepin’ them safe and sound at all times.” Bryan shifted almost imperceptibly. Lilly clocked it. “That’s good to know. So you can let him just wake up but he needs to be awake no later than one-thirty,” Lilly continued, reclaiming the rhythm of the conversation. “He’ll decide how he wants the afternoon to go. Big, little, or maybe a mix of both. Yesterday was a tough day—his system needed a rest.” Harley nodded eagerly, curls bouncing, her smile unwavering. “Of course!” she said, pitching her voice higher again. “Some days they wanna play grown-up, some days they just wanna be little snug-a-bugs, and sometimes they wanna be both.” She giggled softly at her own phrasing, then—just as quickly—reined it back in. “I mean—whatever Paul feels comfortable with.” Lilly watched the shift. There it is, she thought. She knows when she’s crossed her own line. “We also need to go over a couple of boundaries,” Lilly said gently. Not apologetic. Not confrontational. Just firm enough to matter. “Paul is currently grounded from electronics. No phone, no tablet, no personal screens. The TV is okay if you put something on for him.” Harley’s eyes widened in exaggerated understanding. “Ohhh, poor thing,” she cooed, sympathy thick and immediate. “No screens can be very hard for big kids, can’t it?” She clasped her hands together briefly, then looked back at Lilly, tone smoothing. “But totally manageable. We’ll find lots of other ways to keep busy.” Bryan cleared his throat. “It’s unlikely,” he said carefully, “but if Paul acts out in any way—refuses instructions, uses inappropriate language, won’t cooperate—you have our permission to put him in a brief time-out. Nose to the corner. It’s not punishment. Just quiet time to reset.” Harley nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. I’m very good with calm-down corners,” she said, voice softening into something reassuring and practiced. “Sometimes big feelings just need a little less stimulation, right?” She smiled—sweet, earnest. Lilly returned it—but hers was slower. “I don’t anticipate any problems,” Lilly said. “But if anything comes up—anything at all—we want you to call or text us immediately.” “Oh, of course,” Harley said quickly. “You won’t even have to ask twice.” There was a brief pause then—a natural lull that might have passed unnoticed if both women weren’t acutely aware of it. Lilly decided to place the next piece on the board. “When Bryan and I get back,” she said, tone still warm, still calm, “we’ll have an answer for you about moving forward. Whether this is something we all feel good continuing—or not.” Harley blinked. Just once. It was gone almost immediately, replaced by a sunny nod and a reassuring smile. “That sounds perfect,” she said easily. “No rush at all. It’s important everyone feels comfortable—especially Paul.” But inside, something tightened. She’s watching me, Harley thought—not resentful, not angry, but alert. Good. That means she understands what’s at stake. Lilly met her gaze, holding it just a second longer than politeness required. Neither woman smiled wider. Neither backed down. Bryan stepped forward then, breaking the tension with practical kindness, thanking Harley again, reminding her of their return time. Harley responded with bubbly assurance, walking them toward the door, her voice rising again into gentle, playful warmth. “I’ll take such good care of him,” she said, sing-song and sincere. “You two just enjoy your time together.” At the doorway, after the goodbyes, Harley lingered. She turned back toward the living room slowly, tablet still in her hands. The screen glowed softly in the dimmer interior light. Paul lay asleep on his side, breath even, face relaxed with his paci helping to frame his face bobbing up and down peacefully with every breath. Harley’s expression changed. Not dramatically. Not sharply. But something in her eyes softened and sharpened all at once. She lifted the tablet closer, fingers brushing the screen as she zoomed in—careful, precise—until Paul’s sleeping face filled the frame. Her smile widened. Playfully. Predatory. Passionately. “Ohhh,” she whispered, voice low, affectionate, brimming with anticipation she didn’t bother to hide now. “Harley’s here, honey.” She tilted her head, watching him breathe. “We are going to have such a fun time together,” she murmured, warmth curling through every syllable. “You wittle cutie pie, my cutie pie oh yes you will be….” The tablet hummed quietly in her hands. And upstairs, Paul slept on—unaware of how many visions of care were converging around him now, each certain it knew exactly what he needed next.

Chapter 35: Interactions Bound – LittleFallenPrincess ------------------------------- Chloe A few days ago, the day after Sam invited me to the event, the one being held tonight, Becks sent me a text, telling me she’d happily help me explore my submissive side, if that’s what I want. Her messages were a lot more drawn out than my brief explanation, but most of it was her making sure I was okay with Sam being there with Cassie, and I think she kept implying that I’d prefer to have Sam do it, as Becks may be a bit too rough sometimes. Honestly I think she was just trying to get me to play with Sam instead at the event. And believe me… I wish I could. I would love nothing more than to be in her arms once again. To be teased… touched… held… ugh, no, Chloe… you need to stop this thinking. Ever since you broke it off with Nat, you’ve been wanting desperately to get back with Sam. But she has Cassie. Even if Cassie is… …Umm… Okay, she’s a little shit, but Sam seems happy with her. I can’t get in the middle of that. So maybe getting some of this frustration beat out of me by Becks tonight will help. And as I stood there, in my sluttiest lingerie… which by my standards is slutty, but by Becks’ standards is probably quite prudish… I imagined what kind of things Becks will do to me tonight. Bend me over one of those bench things? Use one of those floggers? Oooooh maybe she’ll throw me over her lap. Aaaaaand now I’m thinking about Sam’s lap. And her soft… squeezable thighs… Sighing heavily, I grabbed my dress, slipped it on over my lingerie, grabbed my coat and my bag, as well as my keys and ID and stuff, and headed out of my apartment, suppressing my overwhelming anxiety that had been building up all afternoon, leading up to this event. Loud music. Thumping. Barely lit corridors. Tinsel and various Christmas decorations hung on the walls. I don’t remember it being like this the last time (obviously the decorations were new, but more so the rest of it just felt… different), so it was all a bit overwhelming when I got past the front desk, paid for my ticket and walked into the main corridor. It was… busy. Very busy. So busy that my first instincts were to rush back the way I came in, go home, and curl up in bed in silence for a decade or so. But no. I need to do this. I need to get over this fear, this anxiety… What helped push me the most was the fact people were waiting for me. Expecting me. So if I went home now… I’d just let them down, right? Becks would be disappointed… yeah… that’s why I’ll stay. Because I hate disappointing people. So I smiled awkwardly as I passed people on the way down the corridor, each person dressed up in various fetishwear. There was a pup being led on a collar by her Mistress, a guy in a full gimp suit, a straight couple who looked just like they jumped out of a 00’s vampire movie. You know the ones… the ones with the long coats, latex bodysuits… unf… I do love her in that movie… I wonder what I’d look like in… wait… Fuck. Did I just discover a new kink? Oh well, future me can figure that out later, right now I’m probably running late to get my ass beaten. And as I walked past a door, I heard someone calling out my name from that room. “Chlo! In here!” I turned to see my friends all hanging out in one of the side rooms. Seems like they’ve claimed it as our own already, so I quickly dodged the crowds and slipped into the room as quickly as possible, closing the door behind me. But I don’t know what’s worse. Being out there, surrounded by kinky strangers, all of whom don’t even recognise my existence, being in their own little kinky world where they are the main actors of their scene and everyone else is just a background character… or being in here, in private… being stared at by a number of people all grinning and licking their lips as if I’m next on the menu. “You scrub up well, toy,” Becks said as soon as I closed the door. I. Melted. It took every ounce of willpower to prevent my legs from giving in and dropping me to the floor. But a heavy price was paid… my cheeks showed the full result of her words as they grew hotter and hotter. “That didn’t take long to make her blush!” Steph said, sitting on Daniel’s lap, swinging her legs back and forth. So it turns out I was going to have an audience to my little ‘Baby’s intro to being dominated’ session… as not only were Becks and Craig here, as well as Sam and… Cassie… but also those two friends who I met at the pub months ago, back when Sam and I were together, Daniel and Steph. I remember them because of the whole ‘I’m his little fuckbunny’ comment she made or something. Daniel was wearing a suit, just like last time. Well not a full suit, but a waistcoat, shirt, smart pants… you know the type, the stereotypical ‘Daddy dom’ that I’ve seen online all the time. His beard was well trimmed, and I know I’m gay but he looked like he smelled amazing. God. That’s so weird to think about. Steph was in a purple corset, which looked amazing by the way, and was barely holding her boobs in, along with some matching panties and some absolutely gorgeous stockings clipped on to the corset. I had never gotten a proper look at those kinds of things, I’d only ever seen them in movies and up close they really hit a few buttons of mine. Guess I know I’m going to be researching a lot of things this weekend. Craig was dressed up in a rather skimpy black vest and skin-tight shorts… and a really cool looking dog mask. Though I think he’d probably prefer to call it a ‘pup’ mask, as it sounds cuter. He was cuddled up on a sofa with Becks, who looked… intimidating. Similar corset to Steph, but in all black, along with a pair of tight leather pants, and boots that just screamed ‘worship me’. The heels alone made them look intimidating, but the straps and the buckles and the way she had her legs crossed made me picture Craig at her feet, worshipping her boots… oh god… is that something I may have to do tonight? Cassie was here too, and it looked like Daniel and Steph were actively avoiding eye contact with the girl, so it seems like there’s a bit of a rift within their friendship group in regards to Sam’s romantic interests, because they were so lovely with me… but they can’t even stand looking at Cassie right now. Or maybe I’m just reading too much into this, wishing for something that maybe isn’t even there… Cassie… ugh, I hate to even think this, let alone admit it, but Cassie looked fucking adorable. And I was so jealous that she was getting to dress up like that at a place like this. Kinda like me the first time… when I broke her heart… ugh. Fuck. No. Chloe. Do not ruin tonight just because you fucked everything up months ago. Move on. You’re going to get all the attention tonight, that’s something to look forward to! Stop dwelling on how adorable Cassie looks in her bra and thick, babyish nappy… God, even her tits are fucking perfect. “Toy… pay attention.” How was being called that so hot? How did Becks have this amazing ability to make me melt on command with only a few words? Was it her outfit? Her voice? Her body language? Whatever it is, it is fucking working and I’m already close to dropping to my knees and worshipping her boots. “Sorry.” “Sorry, what?” “Umm… Sorry… Mistress?” I replied, nervously, stuttering slightly. “Mistress is reserved for good little toys who belong to me. You may call me Miss.” “Yes Miss. Sorry Miss.” “Good girl…” Unf. She used those two forbidden words. Forbidden, rightly so, for making me a quivering ooze of submissiveness if uttered by the right people. “Now… Let me see what I’m working with tonight…” Becks stood up from the sofa, with Craig instantly releasing his grip on her arm like a good little pup, before she began leisurely walking around me, inspecting me, as if she was looking at the goods before she purchased them. I… I just hope she likes what she sees… “I can work with this…” “This is why Becks is so respected in here… she can make anyone behave,” Steph said, grinning up at me. “Don’t worry, she won’t break you… too much.” My anxiety said ‘please don’t let her break me’, but my quivering body and rapidly deteriorating mind said ‘Oh god please break me, you beautiful Goddess…’. Or it would if I could string two sentences together in this increasingly hornier mind… “On your knees. Now.” I did as I was told and dropped to my knees. That was a big mistake, as I felt a jolt of pain shoot through me after landing on the floor too hard. Thankfully, the floor wasn’t as hard as it looked, there was a slight bounce to the flooring, but it still hurt a lot. Still… I’m a good toy. I won’t yelp. I want to enjoy this tonight. I want to experience being a proper submissive, to see if this is something I’d really like in a relationship… and most importantly… to get my mind off the happy couple sitting on one of the many sofas, the ones giggling at each other and kissing each other… Maybe this was a mistake… But before I could go down that rabbit hole, Becks bent over and whispered in my ear, “Are you okay, love? Be careful dropping to your knees, hun, I’m here to tease you, not damage you.” I nodded at her, appreciating the check in. This… this is why I wanted an empathetic, kind, understanding person to try this with for my first time. Someone who was clearly a pro at all this, but also did all the things you hear about online that apparently a lot of Dom(me)s ignore, like aftercare and check ins. Look, I’ve done my research, and I know what I want. And Becks… Becks is giving me everything I want. Well… not everything. If this was my ideal scene… it wouldn’t be her. It’d be the Mummy currently on the sofa, teasing her girlfriend’s tits as her friend kneels in the centre of the private room, regretting fucking everything up. “Right. Let’s see how well you obey commands…” Becks barked at me, making me straighten my back and pose, ready for her orders. This… was going to be an interesting evening… --------------------------------------------- Okay… Maybe I enjoy all this after all. Especially when Becks said ‘she even gives Craig a run for his money when it comes to being a good little pet’ to the rest of the group, making Craig look at me, frustration in his eyes (I assume his whole face, but I could only see his eyes through the holes in the dog mask. But yes, we were having a lot of fun, and my mind was mostly off the happy couple in front of me. Mostly. This was definitely something I’d like to explore more though, turns out I’m kinkier than I thought I was. First the ageplay thing, now BDSM… like… what next? Will I end up a pup like Craig or something? I guess I still have a lot to learn about kink… and myself. Becks also had a lot of fun, you can tell by the look on her exhausted face. She had made me pose in various different positions, she had me worship her boots (called it!), at one point she had me take my dress off, leaving me in just my lingerie… and then she had me crawl around on my hands and knees in front of everyone, sitting in front of each person, barking for a headpat from each person. It was humiliating. And I loved every second of it. Except for when I had to kneel in front of Cassie and bark for a headpat. But hey, that was quickly forgotten about when Becks brought out the spanking bench thingy and set it directly in the middle of the room. Look, I don’t know the exact names of these things, I just know I was lying on top of the top part, with my hands and legs tied to the sides, with my backside on full display. At least I wasn’t completely naked, I think that may have been a bit too much for me to handle this early on. This was an introduction, after all. Becks did give me a good introduction to everything… including pain. Only light pain, mind you, but it was still new to me… as she used a flogger on me, or at least I think that’s what she called it. She even got Craig and Steph to come up and use it on my bum too… which didn’t hurt as much as Becks’ swings. And even then, apparently she went easy on me! And as I was taking a breather, letting the pain on my backside settle, feeling… good about it all… I heard the door open behind us. “Hi…” I heard a familiar voice call out. “Sorry, this is a private room, we booked it for the night,” Becks replied to her. “I’m just looking for Chloe.” That brought me out of my blissful haze in an instant, as I tried to turn my head so I could see the door. Thankfully, Steph had seen that I was trying to get up, so she quickly uncuffed me whilst Becks and this woman who had intruded were chatting. That’s when I saw her. Natasha. “What… are you doing here?” I asked, nervously. I didn’t want to start shit in here, on my first proper night at this place, and get kicked out all because of my abusive ex. “Who is this woman?” Becks asked me, pointing at the woman wearing a black halter dress and matching heels. “This… is Nat.” “Nat? Wait… your shitty ex?” Way to play it cool, Becks… “Shitty? What have you been telling her about me, you little bitch? I came here to ask for an apology, as I was told you were here,” Nat asked me, instantly going on the offensive. “Wait… you want an apology from me?” I asked. “Of course. You broke up with me. Over text. Then whilst I was here I heard you were also attending…” Sam was about to get up, no doubt to defend me alongside Becks, when a large woman came up behind Nat, towering over the woman. “Sup Becks. Is this one bothering you?” the woman replied, with a slightly deep voice. And when I say deep… I mean that in a hot way. Like… a husky voice. Commanding. Like Becks’ but with a little more resonance… that oozes charm. If I wasn’t stuck in the worst situation imaginable, I would melt listening to that voice of hers. With her scruffy tank top, heavy silver chain necklace, and baggy black cargo pants… along with her gorgeous face and thick black hair that was tied into an extremely scruffy ponytail… look… I know I’ve just used the word scruffy to describe most parts about her… but that’s what she looked like. It was the best word to describe her whole aesthetic… What some people may refer to it as ‘grunge’, I call ‘scruffy’. Either way, it works for her. Really well, in fact. “She’s harassing our friend, her ex,” Becks replied. “Harassing, eh?” the woman said, looking at my ex, raising her eyebrow. “She’s also apparently a pretty shitty abusive domme…” “Is that so?” the woman replied. Nat looked at the two women, her head dashing back and forth between them, trying to get a word in edgeways. “Hey!” she said, finally breaking their conversation. “I am not abusive! That little bitch over there is the abusive one!” Everyone looked at me, timidly sitting there on the spanking bench or whatever it’s called, eyes wide open like a deer in headlights. “That little cutie? I doubt it. Especially if she’s friends with Becks and Sam. You… on the other hand… I’ve been keeping an eye on, and you’ve been pushing one too many boundaries here. So effective immediately… you’re banned.” “Banned?” Nat sounded like she had never been spoken to like that in her life. “How dare you!” “Claire?” the woman called out behind her, rather loudly. It was then that the woman who I had paid my entry fee to, the large blonde woman who looked like she could bench press a car, walked over, and began escorting Nat out of our room… and off the premises, with Nat loudly complaining and trying to make a scene. But my mind was not on any of this. My mind was on the fact that that gorgeous mysterious woman in the doorway just called me cute… ====================================================== Ruh roh. Chloe is smitten. Again. Also I'm glad someone else noticed the Glitch in Nanny easter egg :3 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 stories are 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, why don't you check out my SubscribeStar! Thank you to all my subscribers for their support over the past few years! Seriously, your support means the world to me. 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Chapter 195: Packages “THEY’RE PSYCHOPATHS!” CARLY seethed. “Yes,” Beth agreed. “We have to get this out to people…” “You’re right, but we need more…” Carly told her. “What else did Grandma have in that folder…” Carly and Beth finally called it quits far later than they should have, and knew they would be over the ten-minute video they had planned. It would have to be finished the next night, though, because they were nowhere near done. Beth and Carly took off their goggles and wiped their eyes and faces. “That’s one of the longest times I’ve used those before,” Carly said, looking around the room. “What about Saturday?” “I kept alternating with the implants,” Carly told her. “As much as I function with less sleep than most Littles, it’s late!” “Yes, it is, let’s get you tucked in,” Beth told her while scooping her up. She quietly carried her down the hall to Carly’s room and laid her down atop the changing table. She had no illusions that Carly’s diaper would have made it five more minutes, let alone the six hours that she had left to sleep! “You’re going to be tired tomorrow,” Beth told her as she finished taping the diaper. “And you aren’t?” She asked Beth. “True… Need anything else?” She asked her tiny, yawning girlfriend. “No…” She groaned, “Ugh! Stupid cravings…” “Huh?” Beth asked. “I’m thirsty, hungry, and craving that stupid milk more for some reason right now.” “Do you need me to get your grandma?” Beth asked tentatively. She shook her head, “No, can you hand me a pacifier, though, please?” Beth smirked, “Sure, one paci coming up!” After she inserted the pacifier in Carly’s mouth, she asked, “Better?” “Yeth, night!” She kissed her on the forehead and walked down to her room, used the toilet, and then crawled into bed. “Tomorrow is going to hurt!” She groaned. She had a hard time turning her brain off that night, despite how tired she was. Those people were monsters, and somehow… they’d been allowed to take over the university. ‘I wonder how many of those people were friends with Mom’s mother…?’ WEDNESDAY MORNING WAS a tough one to get moving! Grandma let me sleep in my car seat on the way to class at least, which did help. As much as the nanites I had dwelling inside of me helped function with this dimension’s longer days, I wasn’t used to staying up past this dimension’s midnight! During Computational Intelligence, I really had to force myself to focus on what was being discussed in class, not the facts we’d learned last night. I knew from the timestamp of the video that Grandma hadn’t had it more than a day at most before leaving it for me. ‘Why did she just leave it for me, though?’ I had to wonder. A part of me wondered if she’d even watched it, or if she was just searching for files. ‘Did Tessa find it and not tell her what was in it?’ That would actually explain why she didn’t specifically say anything about it. ‘I’ll have to ask tonight,’ I thought to myself. I did just manage to take enough notes, at least in class, to look like I had paid attention… Grandma changed my diaper before catching up with Beth and her team to walk to our classes in Marconi. “Grandma?” I asked as we walked. “Yes, Carly?” “Did you look through all of that box you gave me yesterday?” “Box?” Grandma asked in surprise, “Actually, no… I had Tessa pack some of that one?” “Oh… there were some really interesting things inside.” She made a face, “You’ll have to show me tonight.” I nodded. She shifted me, and I got a whiff of something that I instantly knew was milk. She saw me stiffen, “Are the cravings bad?” “They’re not good…?” I told her. “What do you want to do about it?” She asked me, carrying me into the doors of Marconi. “I haven’t the slightest clue, Grandma.” “Well… I know I’m your grandmother, but I could help if I need to.” I nodded, “I know… thank you for that. I’m just not sure about that…?” “Are you saying it’s even more awkward because I’m old?” She asked me, tickling my side. I giggled, “Well… it’s… just… yeah? You’re Grandma?” She hugged me, “The offer stands if you need it.” She whispered, “We can always stop by and get Lilly to help if we need to, too. She said she has a freezer stockpile right now that she’s building up just in case.” I blushed, “That’s embarrassing… but honestly, if it comes to it, I might prefer that. Let’s see if I can kick it first. Mom said it was hard, but she did it.” “Just mind your moods; if you start doing it too much, it will be something your body needs to regulate itself.” I felt my mood darken at that, but nodded. Holo Fields, at least, was interesting enough that day that I didn’t fall asleep, and I was able to distract myself from all of the rest of my problems. We were talking about how to physically build a sequence based on an exponential growth property, and I watched it create some absolutely incredible explosions come to life! ‘If I’d known how to do this, it wouldn’t have helped me in Narratives because of the stories… but I’d love to find an excuse to use this knowledge!’ As Grandma carried me out of the classroom, I felt the weirdest sensation. It was like my entire body vibrated! “What was that?” I asked her. “No clue…?” She said, seemingly concerned. Right then, Beth and her team came out of her classroom, looking very nervous. The marshals seemed to have their hands on their weapons, ready to draw them, and Nikki was constantly looking around, scanning for an unseen threat. The walls shook right then. “Let’s get out of here,” Marshal Evans ordered calmly but tersely, guiding everyone quickly outside, where we quickly saw the most bizarre sight I could imagine! BETH FELT LIKE she was going to go deaf! But that being said, the music had an incredibly vibrant sound, and the sudden holographic performance right in front of the administration building was something they couldn’t help but stare at in awe! Somehow, a massive holographic rock concert stage was projected in front of the admin building. The figures singing on it looked to be fifty feet tall, with the drum set in the group looking like it was taller than any Big alive! The figures singing were evidently supposed to be Littles. They were dressed in t-shirts and diapers, onesies with diapers sticking out, and a couple of girls in babydoll tops with their diapers proudly showing below. They suddenly shifted to a new song, and Beth took a moment to try to understand the lyrics. Cribs can’t hold us, we won’t break, Not your rules, not your mistake! Don’t need your blankies, not your baby dolls, We won’t be changed inside your walls! Pacis out and voices loud, Littles rise, defiant, proud! It was kind of a catchy song, really, and Beth couldn’t help but smile at what was probably the most impressive defiance they’d seen yet. She had no clue how they were making the sound happen without any visible speakers. Meanwhile, students and professors were coming out of the buildings to see what was causing the commotion. All around her, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of students finding places to sit and enjoy the concert. The song ended with the lines, No more playpens, no more chains We’re not lost, we’ve got our brains. You can’t rock us into sleep We’re wide awake and digging deep. Cribs can’t hold us—hear our sound Littles rising, standing ground. Beth smirked as security personnel streamed out to try to stop the projection. Still, as her team led her group off campus for safety, she couldn’t help but note that it looked like more drones were flying the projectors. A news crew seemed to be getting set up on one part of the quad, with a camera facing the HoloConcert, and she noted others rushing up as well. The next song started with an amazingly ironic voice, telling them, “Now remember class… pacifiers are for safety, and diapers are for comfort. Just let the nice Bigs decide what’s best for you.” Beth couldn’t help but smirk at that voice. They were moving faster, and just on the other side of the building, she heard the following song half-sing/half-shout, “Pacis and Lies,” and knew it was once again an homage to the bravest Little this campus had known in a long time. Grace’s shout of “PACIS OUT!” Had become the students’ war cry. She was proud to be making her own moves for it, even as she couldn’t help but smile that so were others. Her security team was not pleased with the situation, having already seen one protest they considered risky, so they drove off-campus a little farther than usual for lunch during their class break. She was using her tablet beside Carly to look at the news coverage. She hated being the person who played videos aloud for everyone else nearby to have to listen to. To avoid being obnoxious, she dug in her backpack and put a pair of Auradots she rarely used behind one ear. Thoughtfully, Beth put one on the near ear of Carly, who sat beside her in a highchair. “What was that?” Carly asked. “Oh, an Auradot?” She told her. “What’s that?” “Here, you’ll see,” she told Carly. She pressed play on the news story that she’d wanted to watch. “I’m here on the campus of Emerson University. Over the past couple of months, they’ve had several protests due to alleged abuse of Littles on the campus. A couple of weeks ago, following the last protest, the university’s president, Doctor Ryan Barnes, resigned. Circumstances behind that resignation haven’t been made public by the university. Still, our sources claim it was in response to him trying to remove members of the staff involved with the Littles’ part of the college after an incident that drew national coverage with holograms and drones that delivered diapers that exploded into tons of glitter.” The news showed the footage of the glitter bombs alongside the description. “Emerson has only given us a very brief statement on that, and no further interviews have been allowed with the interim president, Dr. Ophelia Brighton. It seems that the students of the university are still quite unhappy with the circumstances, and have stepped their protests up to a new height – literally!” The camera suddenly showed footage of the ongoing Little’s rock concert going on in front of the admin building. The camera showed the scope of the projected figures reaching up to the roof of the building. “Whoever is behind this event has truly created a spectacle!” She shouted into the microphone, “Though no one has confirmed who is responsible, we have been able to identify a series of drones that are acting as projectors for the images. Somehow, we believe that they’ve also achieved impressive sound levels by using the walls of campus buildings as speakers. Our tech crew back at the station has been absolutely floored by the technical aspects of what has been accomplished. No faces match any recognition on the campus or on social media, so they believe the holograms and the music are all artificially generated. From the artwork behind the band on their drums, we believe the group is called the ‘Crib Breakers’.” The screen broke back to the anchor, who tried to ask questions that had to be shown via text because it was so loud. “The concert has been going on for over an hour, from what we can tell. Songs have included ‘Demerit Number 9,’ a song discussing Emerson’s draconian demerit system for Littles, ‘Pacified,’ that alludes to the fact that every Little we saw before they cleared them from the quad were sucking on pacifiers, ‘One Crib Empty,’ a banger of an anthem called ‘Crib’s Can’t Hold Us,’ and more. They even had a ballad called ‘One More Hug’ that was about Littles saying goodbye to a friend or a lover one more time after they demerited out.” The shot moved back, and the anchor asked the on-scene reporter what the students thought about it. “You know, Ames hasn’t always been the most progressive state, but it certainly hasn’t been as draconian as Calisota for Littles. Most of the students we have talked to are speaking up in favor of the Littles. They’ve mentioned they have since been banned from the cafeteria altogether, and rumors are they’re being forced to eat pureed baby food for their meals. They suggest that there is significant abuse ongoing, and that things are spreading to the Tweeners on campus as well.” The interview ended with the anchor speaking a few words. Carly looked up at her, “Everyone, but the people who need to, seems to be ready to listen.” Beth nodded. She shifted in her seat right then and couldn’t help but hope it wasn’t too late. She wasn’t having accidents, but she’d already been forced to feel scared enough to wear Pull-Ups again for her own safety. “And this is really cool! How does this work?!?” Carly asked about the Auradot. Beth laughed, “Well…” JUST AS WE were preparing to return to campus, there was an alert, EMERSON STUDENTS, FACULTY, STAFF: Due to concerns that the unauthorized event in the quad may be causing structural issues, all classes for today will be cancelled. Faculty and staff for buildings attached to the quad should depart unless otherwise notified by supervisors. Buildings will be assessed immediately, and any information on resumption or cancellation of classes for tomorrow will be sent out. Littles should be in their nests at this time. “Do I have to go back?” I asked Grandma. “Are you normally there on Wednesday night?” “No?” “Then that is what we’re sticking with per the legally binding agreement. I’ll send a message to Lilly myself letting her know we’re taking you home.” I smiled at that. I would have more time to keep working on the latest video before sending it out an hour after the film finished playing. It would hit just in time for the evening news editors to see it, know they had to air it, I hoped, and send it out with minimal editing! When we arrived at Grandma’s, I saw it wasn’t even two in the afternoon! Grandma gave me a fast diaper change in my room. She took care, I could tell, to try and avoid holding me too close to her breasts, but I could still catch a pheromone or something every so often and had to fight to not stare at her breasts! ‘This is so weird!’ I thought to myself. She pulled the uniform off of me and pointedly made sure I left my phone and anything else that could possibly have held tracking or electronic stuff in my room. Without a word, she also pulled out the ribbons Beth had used to do my hair that morning, and then carried me down the hall to her workspace while catching Beth with a tilt of her head to join us. She closed the door, noticed Beth had something with a scanner, and took her back down the hall for a few minutes. When she returned, she was wearing a different outfit and had no jewelry or hair ties. I watched her scan her again after closing the door, and then she finally spoke. “You two weren’t kidding about that folder!” She looked around, “Tessa!” “Yes, Amanda?” The hologram flitted into existence. “How did you locate that recording of the board members?” She looked at me, “I assume that’s what you girls were alluding to?” We nodded, “I found a whole series of recordings in the SphereVerse that Senator Montclair was storing. I assume it was either for blackmail or her actual job as Secretary for the board?” “Do they know you have access?” Grandma asked. “No, they do not.” “I want the details of your route in, receipts of the recording, and everything I need to be able to give for a court appearance,” Grandma told her, “And I need you to lock yourself down from this moment on, do not leave this house or travel outside in any way.” “Of course, Amanda, that’s probably prudent. I’m certain I was undetected, but I can imagine Stuart Lemoine using his vast resources to track everything.” “I’m certain of it!” Grandma said. “Okay, go ahead and go away for now. Unless I activate you from the console, please do not reappear and do not make any recordings or records of anything we’re doing now.” “Of course,” Tessa said, and disappeared. “That was kind of rude?” Beth said. “I knew there were problems on the board, girls, especially with Rhodes and Senator Montclair; the other team had been kept quiet. There are very few people with resources that make me nervous, but Stuart, Harlan, and Quentin can take down entire countries at this point.” “So do we still go ahead with the plan?” Beth asked her. “Hell yes!” Grandma told us. “But I will be the one sending this out and the film. You two can finish putting together this packet, but I need it done in seven hours, so I have time to get this done right.” She looked at me and read the disappointment in my eyes. “Sorry, Carly, I’m still willing to have you here to watch, but this is a level of cyberwarfare I don’t think you’re quite trained for yet.” “Just who are these people?” I asked. “I mean, I get that they’re powerful… but aren’t Beth’s parents, and you just as much?” Grandma gave me one of those knowing smiles of someone who is flattered, but thinks differently. “Carly, your mom told you all about the issues she had with that group here, right?” “Venture, she called them?” I nodded, “She said they even tried to get at her back home…?” “That they did, and they’ve never been eliminated. Emaly and Stuart are both connected with the very powerful criminal organization that they’ve grown out of.” She looked at Beth, “Senator Montclair worked for your mom’s mother’s company for fifteen years before going into politics, and Petrov and Whitaker were both scientists with her company.” “Is this where everything has been coming at us from?” Beth asked, shakily. Grandma nodded, “I think it has to be.” “Do my parents know?” Beth asked. “Kind of hard to say this one in a HoloChat right now,” Grandma said. “Knowing who is involved, I’m actually scared we may have already been compromised, but I haven’t seen any signs they’ve made it through.” “They’ve tried?” I asked. She laughed, “They haven’t stopped since your mom got the better of them, Carly.” “Great…” I said. “So…?” Beth asked. “Get to work, girls, we have powerful people to bring down,” Grandma smiled. “Oh, and for the record, the students who worked on that wonderful performance today are good friends of yours. They know nothing about what you’re doing, and you know nothing about what they did. Hopefully, though, you can bring this group down together. I have to say, though, I didn’t expect them to come up with songs quite so catchy. I’ve downloaded the album on a playlist on the house server if you want to listen to it,” she smiled at me. “Later, work to do now,” I told her. I looked at Beth, “Let’s finish this up!” Beth and I entered the Sphere workroom and immediately began finishing ripping through every piece of evidence, video, email – everything! The end clip had narration generated by a very realistic AI commentator, inspired by the Crib Breakers, and made from a series of anchors into the ideal anchor. They described the whole sordid plot to demerit out the Tweeners next to keep their quota up. Grandma had even managed to track down forty of the lost students, including some of my former nestmates and exchange students, to show their fate. Films of them being more regressed than most, and disturbing side-by-side before-and-after shots, made it even more compelling. Nevaeh even made an appearance. As much as Beth hated what had been done to her, we found serious evidence in the files suggesting that some of these same board members were involved in blackmailing her into participating and shutting her up about everything. Apparently, one of their customers had wanted such a Big ‘Little’ for their ‘collection.’ It was sick! Grandma came in later and watched the short and long versions we were providing to the news outlets. One was a five-minute version that they could run without a commercial break, the other was a forty-minute piece that exposed everything. Additionally, she packaged all the supporting evidence after scrubbing for potential vectors for retrieval, then assembled the data packages. The subject for the emails? There was really only one thing it could be… ‘PACIS OUT!!!’ +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading!!! Please press the Like Button and leave a comment!!! If you would like to hear the Crib Breakers amazing album, you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3LuGmXtwo0FCNgaZZLj-Fiqf5D406r_h They are also available on my Discord Server if YouTube is problematic for you. You can join that server here: https://discord.gg/Ckw4Nq8kQZ That'll also allow you to see why I got into the whole AI generated music spree! This will be my last post until Friday of this coming week, but I’m glad you all have enjoyed this string of chapters! I’m slowly getting myself back into writing, and hope to get a few more chapters written in the next couple of weeks so I can maintain the two per week spoiling I’ve been doing to you all. Please leave comments, and press the like button to help motivate me! Happy New Year to everyone! In case you're looking for a place to spend those Amazon Gift Cards you've been given, and haven't yet picked up Kindle versions of all of my books, you can find them here! http://www.amazon.com/author/babysofia

Chapter 29: Plan for a Move “About that.” That was not a phrase that conveyed good news. About what? Had Mei already told them about the diapers and the regression? If they knew, was that why Mom made that joke about Dad acting like a toddler? Was that why Dad put on the baby voice and asked Mom to “change his diapee?” Did they think he was a disgusting freak? “Don’t go all doom and gloom on me yet, Jimmy. I haven’t told them anything about you being a baby. They do text me every once in a while to see how you’re doing, but I never say much more than vague platitudes. However, I did want to have a discussion with you that involves them, your diapers, and your regression.” Jimmy trusted Mei, but he really did not want to have this conversation. Why would she even suggest such a thing? He began to stand, as Joy finished her bottle and was placed over Mei’s shoulder, and burped. He had no intention of having this conversation. “Sit down. James Archibald Dalton, you will sit and listen. Got it, mister? I know you’re big right now, but that doesn’t mean you can walk away from a conversation you don’t like. I am treating you like an adult since that’s your current headspace, but the way you’re acting right now, I’m not so sure that’s true anymore.” Jimmy blushed and attempted to plead his case, but Mei’s face did not change. She was having none of his excuses. When it became clear that his plea was falling on deaf ears, he reluctantly sat down. Mei turned on Bluey to distract Joy so they could have their conversation. “Now, what I want to talk to you about involves the process of moving into the new house. As you’re aware, Miles will be arriving next week. He will help me take care of you two when you’re both regressed. I had been planning on us moving when Miles arrived, but that was when he was arriving a month from now. Now that Miles will be here next week, the timeline has moved up. So, what I’m proposing is my attempt to make life easier for everyone. With your consent, you and Joy would go stay with your parents for a bit. This would also involve telling them about your diapers and regression. I say this because, while you may think you can just stay big the whole time, we both know that’s not true anymore. Then there’s Joy. As you saw, her pain caused her to slip. That will likely happen frequently, and your parents would need to know about that.” Jimmy was troubled by this proposal, mainly because it made too much sense. He knew packing and moving the apartment would be hard enough without having to step around two adult-sized toddlers. He also knew that they would be more of a hindrance than a help when it came to packing. Everything would be something to play with, and nothing would get done. He also knew that it would be hard for Joy to recover in all the chaos. “Ok, we can talk to them about it. I’m not thrilled with them knowing, but I can’t argue with your reasoning. I do have a question. How exactly would this work? They don’t have any baby stuff, much less adult-sized baby stuff. If Joy or I are regressed, there’s a danger of falling out of bed without a crib, falling off a chair without a highchair.” Mei nodded along, but said nothing, waiting for him to finish. When it was clear he was done, she laid out her plan. “So, my idea is that first we will propose the arrangement, after inviting them over to the apartment. They will be able to see the nursery firsthand, and if you or Joy are regressed at the time, they will be able to see what they would be working with. If they agree to this, then we will supply them with the diapers and clothing needed for the two of you. As far as the crib and the highchair, there are purchasable attachments. Online, you can purchase mesh-lined rails that attach to standard bed frames. There are also tray attachments that can be clipped onto regular chairs. It wouldn’t be quite the same, but it would do for a couple of weeks.” Jimmy was trying to picture what Mei had described, his childhood bed surrounded by rails. He tried to imagine sitting at the familiar dining room table, clipped into a chair. Possibly being fed by his Mom or Dad. As he thought about everything more and more, there was a part of him that liked the idea of his Foster Parents babying him. He had been a teenager with them, and before that, hadn’t really gotten a real childhood. When he stayed with them, his Mom had offered to help him with his diapers, but he had been too embarrassed then. He barely knew these people, and they wanted to help with his diapers? Now, the idea of his Mother’s kind smiling face looking down at him made him happy. Seeing the smile on her lined face, the peaking gray hair right before her next hair appointment. Her soft voice, her kind words. “I’m going to go give them a call and ask them to come over this weekend. Does that sound ok?” Jimmy hadn’t really been listening. He was too busy thinking about what it would be like to truly be his Foster Parents’ baby boy. He thought about it long enough that he hadn’t even noticed Mei leave and come back. When she placed her hand on his shoulder to pull him out of his imagination, his imagination came back with him, and he slipped. The baby in his mind took over. It had been thinking about all of the fun toys and activities that would happen, and didn’t want to wait any longer. Mei saw the change in him and decided her conversation with his parents could be relayed at a later date. Jimmy then noticed the flickering colors of the television and was drawn like a moth to a flame. He saw Joy sitting on the couch, watching, and sat right next to her. Joy didn’t even seem to notice that he sat next to her. Her focus was solely on the colorful cartoon playing on the screen. Jimmy didn’t mind. His focus was on the cartoon as well. Mei let them watch for thirty more minutes before turning the television off to dual whines. “That’s enough screen time for now. Besides, it smells like at least one of you made a stinky and is in desperate need of a change.” She started with Jimmy, as he would be the easier of the two to check. His diaper was pretty wet but not stinky. She picked up Joy from the couch and could immediately feel the mess in the seat of her diaper. Gently placing Joy on her hip, she took Jimmy’s hand and led both to the Nursery. She instructed Jimmy to play while she took care of Joy. Once again, she brought the girl down to the table as gently as possible. Joy only grimaced in pain once, so Mei considered that a success. Jimmy was much easier. He was distracted by the toy in his hand the entire time and paid no attention to what was going on with his diaper. Mei placed Jimmy next to Joy on the floor and went into the back of the closet. She returned with a large frame compacted for ease of storage. Going into the living room, Mei spread the frame out in the large open space of the living room. It had been a while since she had used the playpen, but with two littles and chores needing to be done, it seemed the prudent solution. Inside the playpen, she placed a selection of toys and stuffies, including each Little’s favorite stuffy. Next, the loose, comfortable blankets went in, followed by two pillows. Finally, she put in a selection of Disney-themed coloring books and crayons into the playpen. The playpen was now ready for its occupants. In gathering the two engrossed littles, she employed a similar solution to getting them into the nursery as she did to getting them out. Joy on her hip, Jimmy holding her hand, she maneuvered them into the living room and into the playpen. Both seemed a bit confused at first. This was the first time either of them had been put in the playpen. After testing the limits of their confinement, they settled back into playing with toys. Mei was quickly moving around the apartment, straightening and picking up loose toys. She made her bed from when Joy had slept earlier, and then moved to the kitchen to begin prepping dinner. Just as she placed the lasagna in the oven, the doorbell rang. Quickly wiping her hands on her apron, she hustled to the door to greet her guests. On the other side of the door, Suzanne and Larry were a bit nervous. It had been a surprise when Mei called them, and an even bigger surprise when she told them why she was calling. Mei had done her best to prepare them, to describe what they were likely to see, but the nerves remained. They had been intrigued by the idea, even if they found it a bit strange. They had loved teenage Jimmy and loved Adult Jimmy, but had never had a chance to get to know Jimmy as a baby. Suzanne especially loved the idea of having a baby to take care of, and not just one but two. She had always felt a pull towards children, a certain maternal instinct. Unfortunately for her, life had other plans. She lost the ability to have children after a battle with ovarian cancer in her mid-thirties. Larry, at first, had been indifferent to having children. He just wanted Suzanne to be happy, and if that meant children, so be it. As he moved into his thirties and the couple began talking about having a baby more and more, he became excited about the prospect as well. So the cancer had been a blow to both of their hopes. If this is what made Jimmy happy, then both of them had resolved to make it happen. The door opened, and the couple exchanged hugs with the young woman, who their son was now calling “Mommy.” “Suzanne, Larry. So good to see you again, it’s been too long. Please come in, the kids are in their playpen right inside.” The door closed behind them. Mei went ahead as they removed their shoes. “Jimmy, baby! I’ve got a surprise for you! Look who’s here!”

Hi everyone! This is my first story I've ever written on this platform. Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoy it. Part Three coming soon! Connor's Unfortunate Lesson: Part One After years of Connor Jackson running his family ragged – driving them to the brink of insanity with his rude, disrespectful, and sometimes criminal behavior – his stepmother has finally decided she’s had enough. The last straw had been when he’d been caught breaking into parked cars in the middle of the night in an effort to score some quick cash. Michelle, who had been in his life for the better part of the last ten years, was both infuriated and devastated when she received that fateful call from the police. Instead of rushing down to the station to bail him out once again, she opted to leave him there for the remainder of the weekend while she finished putting her plan into action. When the following Monday arrived, the first thing she did was set up a meeting with her stepson’s school. Of course, their first inclination was to expel Connor for violating their code of ethics for the umpteenth time. However, she was eventually able to convince the board to allow her to unenroll him so that she could homeschool him herself. It had been a small victory, but at least this way she figured he might still have a chance to earn his GED and attend a good university. One day. At first, Connor had been thrilled with the latest development. He was convinced he’d gotten off scott-free. That is, until they arrived back at the house. After having spent the last several nights in jail, all he’d wanted to do was hole-up in his room and get some much needed sleep. Because as far as he was convinced, all he’d done was earn himself an early summer vacation that promised to be filled with girls, weed, and however much booze he could get his hands on. After his latest brush with the law, he was pretty sure that he’d just cemented his status as the resident “big man on campus”. Although fairly short for his age, he often found himself toeing the edge of being a bully. When he spoke, people listened. And if they knew what was best for them, they did as they were told. Otherwise he made sure they knew there would be consequences. He’d once dumped a kid in a garbage can after he refused to pony up his lunch money on Pizza Day. One could even argue that Connor was proud of his reputation. His male classmates respected him. Possibly envied him. And as for the girls, well, he had yet to meet one who didn’t want him. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the word “no” – from anybody. Including his parents. Especially his parents. Even when his father had been alive, the man had been known for giving in to his spoiled son’s every whim. Although there were times when Michelle had warned him that he might be going too far, her protests had often fallen on deaf ears. Connor’s father was adamant that he was just trying to give his son the type of childhood he’d never had. Unfortunately for all of them, his attempts had only resulted in him raising a child who believed he didn’t have to play by the same rules as everyone else. But those days were over. After his last arrest, his stepmother knew it was time to put her foot down. Big changes were coming to the Jackson household. A fact Connor realized the moment he walked through his front door. Instead of being allowed to make a beeline for his bedroom, he’d found himself being hauled off to the living room for a special kind of punishment. The kind that involved a long overdue trip over his stepmother’s knee where she proceeded to blister his ass with a sturdy, wooden hair brush. It had been the first time he’d been spanked since childhood. And it was even worse than he could’ve ever imagined. The shame and humiliation had been overwhelming – and he hadn’t been alone for it either. His two stepsisters, Daphne and Delilah, had been in there to witness the entire spectacle. They’d heard every pained gasp and cry, had watched as he flailed and thrashed helplessly while their mother busied herself expertly reddening every inch of his bare bottom until he could no longer contain his sobs. But the girls harbored no sympathy for him. Instead they’d simply laughed, pleased to see their troublesome brother reduced to such an infantile state. In their minds, this was what he deserved after having spent the last few years enduring his would-be reign of terror. When the spanking finally ended, it was then that Michelle dropped what had felt akin to that of a verbal atomic bomb. In that very moment, right there in the living room, his stepmother declared that, moving forward, Connor’s life was about to change drastically. In order to save him, he would be made to start over. Take things back to the basics. And, hopefully, unlearn every single delinquent behavior that, up until now, had kept him off the straight and narrow. Until then, he’d lose all perks and privileges that came with being an adult. No friends. No phones. No electronics. A strict bedtime. And, what’s more, the bathroom was officially off limits. Chest still heaving, a shocked Connor had opened his mouth to protest, only to clam up when one of his sisters was ordered to bring out the urine stained sheets he’d hastily crumpled and shoved under his bed several nights ago. While it wasn’t the first time he had accidentally soiled himself in his sleep, he thought he’d actually been hiding pretty well. He had no idea that his family was well aware of his little secret. They’d just been waiting for the right time to confront him. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” Michelle mused, her nose crinkling as she’s hit with the stale whiff of the young man’s shame. “I mean, honestly. Just be grateful that your father isn’t here to witness what a disappointment his pride and joy has become.” “You’re insane!” He’d hissed, his face red as he began to rub his still smarting backside. “Dad would never let you treat me like this. My inheritance is supposed to come through virtually any day now, and when it does, I’m throwing you, and your girls out on your asses the first chance I get!” Connor’s sniffles had only grown more pronounced when his threat was rewarded with a resounding combination of snorts and laughter from the three remaining members of his family – which was confusing. Because in his mind there had been nothing funny about any of this. “I’m sorry, Connor. And girls, stop. This is serious.” Even so, Michelle had continued to giggle long after the bulk of her laughter subsided. “Because what your brother doesn’t understand is that, while yes he was promised an inheritance, he’s also going to have a hard time collecting it if he isn’t deemed competent to do so.” Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, she’d given her daughters a knowing look. “As your guardian, I have a final say as to whether or not you’re ready to receive access to the trust funds you father left behind – which is true for all three of you.” “But I’m–!” “Yes, you may have just turned eighteen, young man.” His stepmother scoffed before rising to her feet. “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready. You have no plans for the future. No desire to go to college or find a trade school. In fact, the only thing you’re able to boast about is your growing rap sheet.” She adjusts her blouse, subtly highlighting her shapely figure. “Whereas your sisters are set to attend the best university in the state on full scholarship, starting this fall.” “I don’t need school, Michelle. I’ve got money. A lot of money.” Connor had snarled before attempting to snatch the sheets out of his sister’s grasp. He failed, of course. “Now, give me my shit and I’ll let you keep the Range Rover my Dad bought you. And when I sell the house, I might even cut you a piece of the profits. Assuming I can bring myself to forget about the way you’ve all treated me just now.” And that’s when Michelle began to move. “Let’s face it, Connor.” He’d stepped back as she slowly invaded his space, effectively towering over him, making him feel smaller than he’d liked to admit. “You’re nothing but a little boy who thinks he’s doing a good job of pretending to be a grown-up.” Cupping his chin, she’d then forced him to meet her stern, blue-eyed gaze. “We – your father and I – failed you the first time around. Which is why I feel like I’m partly to blame for what you’ve become. But I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, and even had a chance to consult with a leading therapist who specializes in helping troubled young men find their way back on the straight and narrow. His best-selling novel, Rebirth: The Road Back to Babyhood, was quite the page-turner.” Feeling like the walls were closing in on him, Connor could only summon a weak cry as the weight of his circumstances became overwhelming. “You can’t do this…I…” And that’s when a fresh wave of tears had begun to fall. “I’ll call the police. I…I…” He’d trailed off upon noticing Michelle’s smug grin. “Oh, Connie.” She’d eventually released his chin in order to mockingly ruffle his chocolate brown locks. “It’s already been done. This summer, your sisters and I are going to help give you the do-over you so desperately need. We’re going to break that stubborn little spirit so you can grow up to be the kind of upstanding young man who wants to make his family proud.” Leaning down, she’d pressed a chaste kiss along his furrowed brow. He honestly couldn’t believe that these were his only options. Either refuse and be thrown out on the street, penniless and without a place to call home. Or stay and allow himself to be subjected to whatever twisted plans his stepmother had in store for him. “Please…” He’d tried once more, now feeling more helpless than he’d ever had in his life. “I can–I can change.” God, he’d hated how his voice shook with every word he spoke. “Oh, we know you can, baby boy. And you will.” His stepmother assured him as she’d reached for his hand, dragging him down the hall in the direction of one of the house’s many guestrooms. “Like it or not, your new life starts today. Now, come on girls!” She’d called out as her grip tightened, forcing Conner to scramble to keep up with her long stride. “It’s time to show your baby brother his brand new room!” END Connor's Unfortunate Lesson: Part Two - (Takes place three months after the events in Part One) At eighteen-years-old, Connor was desperate to keep his neighbors and the surrounding community from finding out about his shameful little secret. You see, while most of his classmates were finishing up the school year and preparing to start college in the fall, he’d been busy with something else. And it had everything to do with the diaper he was currently hiding underneath his gray sweatpants. For the last few months, the toilet had been off limits to him. All thanks to the bad behaviour that had landed him in jail around that same time. Well, that and the fact that he still had a tendency to wet the bed at night. Unfortunately for him, being denied access to the bathroom like any other self-sufficient adult had severely affected his ability to control his bladder. If he was awake, he usually had a 50/50 chance that his body might alert him that he needed to pee. Or mess. From there, he only had a matter of minutes before he was forced to do his business wherever he stood. Or squatted for that matter. And if he was asleep, then all bets were off. Having anticipated this development, his stepmother now mandated that he be kept in diapers full-time. Connor would have to earn the right to use the potty like a big boy again, whenever Michelle believed he was ready. Wait. Not Michelle. Mommy. Of course, what was even more embarrassing was that he wasn’t even allowed to change his own diaper. Depending on how his behavior had been that week, he might not even be allowed to ask for one. If he’d gotten himself in trouble, he would often have to wait until his Mommy or one of his sisters decided to check to see if he’d soiled himself. It was utterly humiliating. These days, Connor was no longer allowed the privilege of modesty. Michelle bathed him every night and typically changed his dirty diapers throughout the day. And when she was too busy, or couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, the demeaning task fell to one of his twin sisters: Daphne or Delilah. If he were being honest, he regretted having mistreated both girls over the years. Because now they took every opportunity they could to inflict their revenge. While they were of no relation to him, they were the spitting image of their beautiful mother. And what made it even worse is that they were only older than him by a handful of months. Sometimes Daphne wasn’t so bad. While he wouldn’t exactly say she was nice, he could usually deal with the way she teased and babied him. But Delilah…she could be downright cruel. There were times she went out of her way to humiliate him, and she often wouldn’t stop until he was reduced to tears. Thankfully, no one from the outside world seemed to be aware of Connor’s new predicament. Something for which the young man was grateful. But deep down, there was a part of him that knew this wouldn’t last forever. Eventually the other shoe would have to drop. Which could hopefully mean freedom from his infantile prison and access to the trust fund he was owed. Or a lifetime of embarrassment if anyone in town ever discovered his new, baby-powder scented secret. And thanks to the calculated efforts of his Mommy, it was quickly looking like the young man’s life was swiftly careening towards the latter. Whether he had a say in it or not. __________ A Few Days Later... “Michelle…” Connor whines softly as he anxiously shifts from foot to foot. “Please don’t make me do this.” Heaving a weary sigh, his stepmother brushes past him to check on the quiche she had baking away in the oven. “For the last time, Conrad, I’m not making you do anything you haven’t already been doing for the last few months. And you know that’s not my name.” Realizing her dish still needed a few more minutes, she closes the door before turning to face the young man currently occupying her kitchen. “Who am I to you?” “Mommy. I–I’m sorry, Mommy.” He quickly amends, hoping to avoid wracking up any additional punishments. His bottom still ached from the spanking he’d received earlier that morning. “That’s better. Now, we’re having company over and that’s final. And you will be on your best behavior while they’re here, or there will be consequences. Is that understood?” She arches one perfect blonde brow for emphasis. “But can I…can I…” He stammers, wishing he could simply get the words out. “Can you…what?” An impatient Michelle crosses her arms over her ample bosom. “Spit it out or stop wasting my time.” “Can’t I please at least put on my underwear? Real underwear? I won’t have an accident, I swear!” Unfortunately, Connor was pretty sure he’d known the answer before he’d even summoned up the courage to ask the question. But when he’d found out the identity of the visitors she’d invited, it was worth a try. “Oh, Connie…” Her derisive snort seems to echo throughout the fairly large room. “Always so convinced you’re ready to be a big boy when you’re not.” “But I don’t want them to see me in a–” He cuts off mid-sentence as he feels his cheeks heat. “I don’t want them to know that I have to wear…this.” He finishes, apprehensively tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Well, why not?” Michelle glides over the fridge to take stock of treats she’d prepared for the afternoon’s festivities. “It’s for your protection, after all. Do you remember what happened the last time you went without your…protection?” The mocking lilt in her voice has him feeling about two feet tall. “Yes.” He mumbles, his gaze dropping to his socked feet. “And?” “I fell asleep and had an accident on the couch.” “Hmm.” Closing the door, she moves to take a seat at the kitchen table. Resting her chin on her palm, she makes it clear that he now has her full attention. “And what did Mommy do? What did she have to do when you had your little accident?” “You…you spanked me. With my paddle.” Connor swallows hard, his bruised bottom throbbing at the memory. “And then you put me in triple diapers for the rest of the week.” “And tell me – why did I do that, Connor?” His fists clench uselessly at his sides. “Be–because I took off my diaper.” The sound of Michelle’s tinkling laughter is enough to set his teeth on edge. “And is that something you’re allowed to do? Are you allowed to take your diaper off? Ever?” “No, Mommy.” “That’s right.” His stepmother then leans across the table to grab her cellphone – a right he’d been denied for months. Unless he managed to catch a bit of the evening news on television, he had no idea about what was going on in the world. “Frankly, I’m surprised you even had the gall to ask after the way I had to blister that naughty butt of yours for cursing at your sister.” Connor doesn’t bother to hide his grimace. He’d gotten a spanking this morning because of a stunt Delilah had pulled. How he hated her and her stupid ribbons. “Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so worried, little Connie?” Her feigned interest has her continuing to stare down at her phone. “I thought you’d be excited to have some company after all this time. You used to love Mr. and Mrs. Peters. Now out of options, the diapered young man visibly deflates. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out about his ongoing punishment. His reputation would be ruined. And he was pretty sure that he’d never be able to land another date for the rest of his life. “May I please be allowed to stay in my room?” “Absolutely not.” Pursing her perfectly painted lips, she sets down her device before beckoning him forward. Once he’s standing in front of her, Michelle lowers his pants to check the padding of his diaper. “You’re not that wet.” She gives his crotch an affectionate squeeze before turning him around to make sure he wasn’t hiding any other surprises. “And thank goodness you’re not poopy.” Pulling his sweats back up, she briefly goes quiet. A few moments pass before she finally speaks again. “Tell you what…” She pulls him closer, until he’s now perched on her knee. “Since you’re so worried about them finding out your secret, how about we change your diaper right before they get here? And then we’ll put you in your favorite onesie – the one with the easy snaps.” “Really?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but at the same time…he really was desperate. “And then we’ll put you back in your sweatpants, that way the Peters won’t notice a thing. After all, your diapers only swell up when they’re used, right?” “R–right…” “Now listen closely,” She boops his nose before continuing. “Because this is your one chance to show Mommy you just might have what it takes to start earning back all those big boy privileges you’ve been missing out on lately. When you feel like you need to go potty you come and tell me or your sisters right away. One of us will take you to the bathroom and help you with your diaper so no one has to find out. Deal?” Connor eagerly nods his head as relief blooms in his chest. “Thank you, Mommy. I won’t let you down – I promise!” Scrambling off his stepmother’s lap, he wanders off towards the living room to make sure it’s devoid of anything that could give away his secret. “You had better not, baby boy.” Michelle responds, as a cruel smile ghosts its way across her lips. “Even though something tells me that you already did…” ____ Four Hours Later... After what seemed like hours, the chime of the doorbell finally signals the arrival of their long awaited guests. Connor had been on pins and needles all morning, wishing that he could get the entire spectacle over with and move on with his day. He checks in the mirror one last time, silently reassuring himself that his so far still-dry diaper wasn’t readily visible beneath his gray sweatpants. As promised, his stepmother had dressed him in his least conspicuous onesie – the one with the easy snaps. Now, all he had to do was be polite and control his bladder long enough for someone to take him to the bathroom. It was pretty simple when he thought about it. “Connor!” Michelle bellows from down the hall. “Come say hello to our guests!” Resigning himself to his fate, he forces himself to make the trek from his room to the sitting area. Surely exchanging pleasantries with their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Peters, wouldn’t be too painful. Hell, they might even forget he was there after the first few minutes. Rounding the corner, his well-rehearsed greeting swiftly dies on his lips. Because standing in the living room was the last person he could possibly want to see. It was his classmate Mallory, the nerdy girl who always volunteered to do his homework, accompanied by her mother. “As you can see, Connie.” His Mommy grins at him while handing off their jackets to his sister, Daphne. “There appears to have been a slight change of plans. Mr. Peters couldn’t make it, so Mallory agreed to tag along instead. Isn’t that nice?” Conner remains too stunned and nervous to speak as he watches Michelle eagerly direct their company to the delicious spread she’s laid out for lunch. Alarm bells were sounding in his head, demanding that he run and hide immediately. “Young man, you’re being rude.” His Mother scolds, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “And you know I don’t tolerate rudeness in this household.” The unspoken threat in her voice hangs heavily between them. And that’s when it clicks that if he was going to survive the afternoon unscathed, he’d have to be very, very careful. All it would take is him breaking just one of her overbearingly meticulous rules for his secret to be exposed. “I–I’m so sorry.” Now that he’s got his feet moving again, he summons the wherewithal to shake their hands. First Mallory’s, and then her Mother’s. “I was surprised to see you, is all. Your daughter is the first person I’ve seen from school in quite awhile.” Instead of immediately responding, the older woman eyes him warily. “I heard you were arrested. Again. Makes sense that school finally had enough of you.” “Mom!” Mallory hisses, clearly embarrassed by her Mother’s unsolicited rebuke. “It’s okay…” Michelle assures them both before pouring Mrs. Peters a healthy glass of chilled Chardonnay. “While it’s true that dear Connie had yet another run-in with the law, after meeting with the school board, they were gracious enough to allow me to withdraw him instead of following through with their proposed expulsion. My baby boy got lucky.” She reaches over to affectionately ruffle his brown locks. “I can only assume you’ve taken up homeschooling him?” Mrs. Peters sniffs primly before taking a sip of her wine. “Assuming he’s willing to follow instructions.” “Oh, I can assure you that he’s been receiving quite the re-education.” She passes Connor a large bottle of water before instructing him to drink. “Remember, the doctor told you that you need to stay hydrated. You’ll need to finish that before you’re allowed a snack.” Connor feels his stomach drop as he accepts the offering. Because while he was thirsty, he knew that if he did as he was told he’d need to use the potty in no time. But that was okay, he told himself. Because his Mommy had promised to take him to the bathroom as soon as he asked. With that in mind, he finally allows himself to relax, if only just a little. While the two adults chatted idly, he listens to Mallory catch-him-up on the happenings he’d missed at school. From the football team’s record breaking season, to who was crowned this year’s prom king and queen, no topic off limits. Talking with her makes him feel good. Normal. Especially when it had been ages since he’d interacted with anyone outside of his mother and sisters. They were nearly an hour into the visit when he felt his bladder begin to show signs of protest. While he had yet to finish the entire bottle, he was close. But his body didn’t care. He knew he needed the bathroom. Now. “Um, excuse me? M-mom?” He mutters, trying to be as polite as possible with his interruption. Clearly annoyed by the prospect of being unable to finish her thougth, she turns to her stepson in a huff. “The adults are speaking, young man.” “I know, but…” Conner lowers his voice several octaves. “I need to go…to…” He trails off, assuming she’d catch the hint. However, he should’ve known that he wasn’t destined to be that lucky. “Go? Go where?” “The bathroom.” He mouths, while attempting to obscure his face from view. “Right now.” “Well, Mrs. Peters and I are in the middle of a conversation. You’re just going to have to wait like any other big boy your age.” With that, she effectively dismisses him, leaving him alone to panic. “Connor…is everything okay?” A confused Mallory asks. “Everything is fine.” He grunts, willing himself to take a deep breath as the pressure continues to grow. “Mom, please!” “For the last time, Connor!” She snaps, snatching his nearly empty water bottle and slamming it on the coffee table. How dare you keep interrupting me like this? I don’t have time to take you to the bathroom right now, so you’re either going to have to wait or go find one of your sisters. Am I being clear enough for you?” “Yes, ma’am.” He grumbles before anxiously rising from the couch, leaving his Mother’s dumbfounded guests behind in favor of tracking down one of his sisters before it was too late. Of course, that quest soon proves to be a colossal waste of time. Because while he manages to catch Delilah on her way out the door, she refuses to be of any help. She even takes it upon herself to loudly announce to anyone that was in earshot that she didn’t have the energy to deal with “pissy little diaper boys” today. Reeling from shame and praying that Mallory and her mother hadn’t overheard her rude declaration, he’d then gone about looking for Daphne. Which was how he’d ultimately found himself back in the living room. Following the sound of her voice, Connor and his now screaming bladder had scarcely set foot on the freshly steamed carpet before he realized just how dire his ordeal had become. “What’s up with all the yelling, Connie?” His sister mocks, adjusting her high ponytail. “You’re so needy all the time, it’s honestly starting to become a little embarrassing.” “Please.” He begs, feeling himself beginning to sweat as he continues to clench his thighs together. “I have to…I need…oh no…” Clutching the wall, he utters a pained groan as he feels the first hot stream of piss escape into his diaper. “Uh oh.” His sister coos, making light of his shame. Meanwhile, his unexpecting audience watches in stunned silence as the eighteen-year-old man slowly loses his battle with control. His knees buckle as he continues to soak his diaper with urine, forcing it to expand massively beneath the fabric of his sweat pants. “Jesus Christ!” Comes Mrs. Peters’ shocked gasp. “Did he just…wet himself? Look at that spot on his pants!” Sure enough, he had leaked. He didn’t have to check because he could already feel it. Michelle feigns surprise, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to convey her embarrassment. “Oh my goodness!” She cries before shifting her attention to their guests. “Janet. Mallory. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m afraid my little boy isn’t fully toilet trained yet.” “I can see that.” Mrs. Peters replies, her face aghast. “My…what a mess.” “I’m afraid raising him lately has been quite the challenge.” Michelle opines, reaching over to grasp her supportive hand. “It’s been hard, keeping Connie’s little secret like this. But it’s also necessary – the diapers, I mean. The poor boy has lost all control.” Their gaze strays towards a betrayed Connor, watching as he sinks to the ground. His body is wracked with heartbroken sobs. “I told you I had to potty!” He wails, falling on his back and kicking his feet. “Mommy, I told you!” “Does he always throw tantrums like this?” The older woman asks, her lip curling in disgust as she witnesses the young man behave worse than a toddler. “Sometimes.” His stepmother confesses with a sigh. “I thought we’d gotten a handle on it. But today’s been a big one for Connie. I imagine he’s a little overstimulated, but you can be sure it will be addressed before I put him down for bed tonight. Once she feels as though he’s suffered enough, Michelle finally gives Daphne the order to take him back to his bedroom for a much needed diaper change. Unfortunately, it does little to soothe the man’s severely wounded ego. But when his sister picks him up and sets him on his feet, he doesn’t protest. Lips trembling, a soggy and defeated Connor dutifully follows her to his bedroom – otherwise known as his nursery. Decorated in a symphony of pinks and purples, it had everything one might need to care for a precious little baby. Like him. “Aww, c’mon Connie. Don’t cry.” His sister coos once she reaches his adult-sized changing table, clearly not in the mood to deal with his theatrics. “You should’ve known this was gonna happen. You haven’t been able to stay dry on your own for months.” “But I told Mommy I had to go potty.” The young man pouts. “I told her and she didn’t listen. Instead she made me go ask Deliliah.” “That’s because Mommy was busy talking to the grown-ups. Any other boy your age would’ve been able to hold it much longer than you did back there. All you did was prove what the rest of us already knew – that you’re just not ready to be an adult. Now hop up. I’ve got shit I need to do.” “No.” Comes his defiant grunt. “I can change myself.” “No, you can’t. You know the rules.” One strong hand shoots out, taking a hold of his wrist and dragging him closer. “Now, I’m going to give you one last change to climb up here before I decide to do something to really embarrass you in front of Mrs. Peters and Mallory. Is that what you want?” As upset as he was, Connor is also keenly aware that his sister isn’t joking. Diaper changes were already a humiliating affair – both his sisters and stepmother made sure of that. What with all the constant teasing and taunting as they took their time wiping him clean of whatever mess he’d made in that moment. And to make matters worse, sometimes his little soldier tended to have a mind of its own, often creating the illusion that he was enjoying his mistreatment. Still holding back tears, he finally allows Daphne to help him onto the table. Once seated, she makes quick work of removing his sweats before beginning to undo the snaps of his now damp onesie. “Woah, baby boy.” She chuckles when she finally gets a good look at his thoroughly soaked diaper, taking a moment to pat his padded crotch. “Looks like somebody did a big wee-wee, huh?” Connor feels his face go scarlett as he forces himself to look away. He couldn’t believe this was his reality right now, especially when they had company just down the hall. And to make matters worse, his sister had left his door wide open, leaving him and his soiled diaper in plain view of whoever might be walking by. “Let’s get you into a dry diaper.” Daphne murmurs, her voice containing a hint of both sweetness and mockery. “Then you’ll be all better. Well, until Mommy decides if she’s going to spank your little bum bum for throwing such a big tantrum.” She doesn’t bother trying to mask her giggle as she shoves his favorite pink pacifier between his frowning lips. Then she goes to remove his onesie, lifting it over his head before moving on to his diapered-prison. Now completely naked, he can’t help the shiver that courses through him as the cool air makes contact with his bare skin. But he knows better than to try to hide or cover himself. According to Michelle, babies didn’t concern themselves with trivial things like modesty. “And there’s Mr. PeePee.” She takes a moment to study his tiny member, which is something she did fairly often. “Still tiny I see.” She muses as she reaches for a wipe. “But I like this little purple ribbon he’s wearing. It makes him look extra cute!” The young man can’t help but flush when he feels his penis twitch of its own accord, as if enjoying the praise. “Did Mommy do that for you? Or was it Delilah?” He struggles not to jump when the cold wipe finally makes contact with his heated flesh, starting with his thighs before slowly and meticulously making its way toward his hairless balls, sitting on prominent display like two plump little peaches. “Delilah.” He whimpers through his binky, willing himself to remain flaccid as he’s forced to remember how she’d taken her time dressing up his little member with the help of one of her many colorful ribbons. In an unusual act of defiance, he’d actually balked when she’d initially tried to put it on him this morning. Then he’d made the mistake of telling her to “go fuck herself”, which in turn had sent her off to find Michelle while he was mid-change. Both women had returned moments later, with his sister sporting a knowing smirk and his Mommy wielding his new wooden paddle. “Mmm…” Daphne’s ministrations then move to his increasingly sensitive member. Pausing to grab a fresh wipe, she begins gliding it up and down his unimpressive cock. Squeezing his eyes shut, Connor is just about to beg her to go faster when he’s interrupted by the sound of someone new entering the room. “I–I’m sorry.” The quiet voice squeaks. “I guess I must’ve gotten lost on the way to the bathroom.” It was Mallory. She was here. Now. In his bedroom. Watching him while he lay on his back, naked and exposed, with his legs in the air while he finished getting his diaper changed. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. “It’s no problem – little Connie and I are almost done.” His sister chirps. “Aren’t we, baby boy?” Connor refuses to answer, preferring to let the silence stretch between them as shame and embarrassment seep out of every pore of his scrawny body. Meanwhile, Daphne continues to absentmindedly stroke him while engaging with their new guest. “Sooo…” Mallory drags out the word as she takes a tentative step closer, allowing herself a better look at her former classmate’s predicament. “Is this why you left school, Connor? I mean, everyone was talking about how your Mom kept them from kicking you out by homeschooling you, or whatever. But I’m pretty sure nobody would believe this…” “It’s a long story.” Daphne interjects on his behalf, before expertly gripping his ankles and lifting his bottom in the air, showing off the remnants of his morning discipline. “But suffice to say that this is his new life now. In fact, it has been for months.” She gently lowers him back onto the table, making a point to splay his quivering thighs even wider than what was really necessary. “Now that his secret’s out, he can focus on what’s really important. And that’s becoming a better, more humble, version of himself.” Her long fingers go to tickle the soft skin of his belly. “Isn’t that right?” “I…should probably leave you guys to it.” “Oh, it’s okay – seriously.” His sister responds dismissively as he sucks harder on his pacifier. “Privacy is a thing of the past for this guy.” She reaches down to grab a tube of cream and gives it a hearty squeeze, using her hand to thickly coat his butt, balls, and dick with the stinky paste. “Sorry about the smell, Mal. But the last time this baby ended up with a rash he was super fussy.” “I’ll bet.” Mallory murmurs, more to herself than anyone else, as she continues to process everything she’s seeing and hearing. “So does he use his diapers all the time?” And now that they were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, Connor wanted nothing more than for a sinkhole to open up in the floor of his nursery and swallow him whole. “All day, every day.” Daphne confirms. “I’m afraid the potty is off limits to Connie until he can be trusted not to have an accident or make a mess. He never was very good at aiming.” Her tone takes a conspiratorial turn. “Or at wiping his own butt for that matter. I’m sure you can only imagine the constant state of his underwear.” “So he…uses them too? Often?” “He does. These days it seems like he’s constantly wet. But sometimes he has a little trouble going number two.” She shrugs, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. Funny enough, she and Connor were both aware that she was dragging out this whole diaper change business. But there was nothing he could do about it. “But Mom keeps a special stash of suppositories on hand which always seem to work wonders on his stubborn tummy.” Nodding in understanding, Mallory allows herself to take a few more tentative steps into the nursery. She makes note of the crib and playpen, as well as the various blocks and toys that littered the floor. Later she would be forced to admit to her diary that she had found the entire scene to be utterly fascinating. “Are you the only one who—who changes him?” “Eh, my sister and I take turns. And my Mom helps out a lot too.” Hands dry, she reaches for the baby powder, liberally applying it to his crotch and bottom. “She does most of it, actually. Mom is usually the one to feed him and bathe him and stuff. And baby Connie here is thankful for that, otherwise he gets his bottom spanked. Like he did this morning.” At long last, Daphne finally grabs a diaper and places it under him. Meanwhile, Connor continues helplessly nursing his binky, all the while willing his unruly member to stand down. But it was almost like the closer his former classmate got, the more the stupid thing insisted on waving to get her attention. All three and half inches of it. “And does that always happen?” Mallory asks, her eyes focused on his cock. “Is it normal for him to be so…excited? Sorry for all the questions, but this is all new to me. I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” As if finally noticing the young man’s discomfort, she tries to offer him what she hopes comes off as a supportive smile. “Sometimes.” Daphne concedes with a shrug, barely concealing her smirk when she sees a bead of precum leak from the tip of his swollen member. Instead she gives the other girl a playful nudge with her shoulder. “It doesn’t happen as much as it used to. He’s probably trying to show off since you’re here.” She lifts the front of his diaper before proceeding to securely fasten the tapes. “Not very impressive, I know. But it comes with the territory. If it ever gets to be too much, we call in Mom for back-up and she takes care of it.” Satisfied with her answer, Mallory ventures over to Connor’s crib. She runs her fingers along the bars as she observes the various stuffed animals strewn across the mattress. Next she makes her way to what appears to be an adult-sized rocking horse, her eyes going wide when she realizes that the man on the table most likely really did play with all of these toys. Toys that were intended for babies. “Can I ask who else knows about this?” She asks as she finds her way over to his chest of drawers. There’s no malice behind her questions, no cunning. Just genuine curiosity. Throwing caution to the wind, she takes her time opening each one, and is surprised when she finds a treasure trove of onesies, plastic pants, footy pajamas, bibs, and more. Jesus Christ. If anyone else at school found out about this, Mallory was pretty confident that Connor would never be able to live this down. “You’re the first. Well, you and your Mom, I suppose.” Spinning on her heel, Mallory watches as Daphne lifts her former classmate off the table before helping him into a new shirt. But she doesn’t allow him any pants. Perhaps because she believed there to be no point. His secret was out. At least where she was concerned. “Go on and play, baby boy.” A smiling Daphne shoos him away, continuing to ignore his pathetic little sniffles. “Big sis needs to finish talking to your friend, Mallory.” Left with no other option, Conner ambles away. This time choosing to hide in the confines of his adorable little playhouse. “If no one else knows, then why are you telling me? Aren’t you the least bit concerned that I might go out and tell everyone about what I saw here today? Connor would be…a joke.” Just as Daphne is prepared to respond, someone else manages to beat her to the punch. Her eyes dart to the door as her Mother and Mrs. Peters make their way into the nursery. “I’m afraid little Connor was already a joke long before he found his way back into diapers.” Michelle interjects cooly. “Breaking the law, causing mischief, being rude and disrespectful to the female members of this household…none of that makes you a real man. So, I’ve decided to give him another chance to grow up. The right way.” She saunters over to the entrance of the colorful playhouse, before yanking open the door. Reaching inside she all but drags a squealing Connor out by his ear. “We’re going to keep him like this until we’re sure he’s learned some discipline. As well as some respect for the women both inside and outside of this house. No self-respecting girl in this town or the next is going to give this naughty baby the time of day once they learn they might end up having to change his poopy diapers.” Of course, the subject of the discussion remains quiet as he continues to nervously suckle his pacifier. Mallory can’t help but wince as she witnesses the interaction. Because even though he had the reputation as being a bit of a self-serving prick, he’d never given her a hard time. Probably because she was on the nerdy side and always agreed to help him with his science homework. He would never see her as a potential love interest – a fact she had resigned herself to a long time ago. In his eyes, she was just the help. Eventually, she hears her own mother clear her throat. “This sure is a lot to take in, Michelle. And are you sure he was part of that group of vandals who tee-peed my house last halloween?” Mrs. Peters looks down her nose at the embarrassed young man. “It took us days to clean that up. And the eggs you miscreants threw ruined the finish on my husband’s car.” “I’m afraid so.” Michelle admits, her lips morphing into a delicate frown. “However, I can assure you that that kind of delinquent behavior is a thing of the past. But while we have you both here…” She plucks the binky from Connor’s mouth. “What do you have to say to these two lovely ladies? Speak!” At first, Connor struggles to answer. And he finds it almost impossible to meet their expectant gaze. That is until he hears his stepmother ask Daphne to go fetch the hair brush. “I’–m sorry, Mrs. Peters. A–and I’m sorry to you too, Mallory. For the mess.” While he knows it’s bad form to rush an overdue apology of this nature, his competing need for self-preservation has him stumbling over his words in an effort to finish before his sister returns. “F–for the toilet paper, and the eggs. That was wrong of me, and I’m so grateful that my Mommy is teaching me how to be a better, more upstanding citizen.” He tacks on the last part, hoping that it might earn him some brownie points. Both Mother and daughter exchange cursory looks as they mull over his apology. “Well, young man…” Mrs. Peters begins after a moment. “That was very, very naughty of you. Had I known you were behind it, I would’ve marched to your door and demanded you clean it up the very next day.” Awash with shame, Connor bows his head and simply prays for the moment to be over. All of this was too much for him to handle. If anything, he’s grateful when he’s once again allowed to have his binky. “But I am glad that your Mother finally has you on the right track.” She turns her attention back to Michelle. “And as for your earlier question, I suppose I’ll have to talk it over with Mallory, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Plus, I’m pretty sure she could use the extra cash, what with summer just on the horizon.” At that particular moment, Daphne barrels her way back into the room, her manicured hands holding the dreaded hair brush. “By the looks of it, I’m guessing you won’t be needing this?” She smirks when she notices Connor’s tear-stained cheeks. “Not until after our guests leave.” Taking the brush, his stepmother makes a show of resting it on his changing table. “But what you can do is say hello to little Connie’s new babysitter.” Clapping her hands in excitement, she takes the liberty of wrapping her arms around the girl and bringing her in for a hug. “She said yes?” His sister squeals, obviously pleased with this new development. “Not yet.” Michelle releases a stunned Mallory before taking a step back to give her a little more breathing room. “But I can tell she’s thinking about it. And perhaps I should add that the pay is negotiable.” The chatter continues, swirling around Connor with such a force that would’ve easily knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t already been sitting on the floor. He just couldn’t believe that in the span of one day – in no more than a handful of hours – he’d lost what little control he’d had left over his life. And now that Mallory and her Mom knew, he was certain that it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world found out. Overwhelmed by the ferocity of his emotions, he releases a despondent wail as he begins to rapidly fill his diaper. The quiet hiss of urine causes the ladies in the room to suddenly go silent as they watch his padded crotch expand in real-time. But try as he might, he can’t stop the nervous flow. “I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Mrs. Peter’s words come on the heels of a surprised chuckle. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it.” Taking Michelle’s hand in her own, she offers a sympathetic squeeze. “Of course you have our discretion. Not that this young man deserves it – but this is obviously a very delicate matter.” Unfortunately, for a still-weeping Connor, his stepmother doesn’t appear to be moved by the other woman’s promise of privacy. “Oh, we don’t mind if people find out. That’s part of the reason we invited you.” She hauls him up to his feet before making a show of checking the back of his diaper for the disaster she was almost positive was on its way. A nervous wee-wee was nearly always followed-up by a nervous poo-poo. Another humiliating fact she had no problem sharing with the group. “Since I know Daphne just changed you, we’ll wait until you finish making stinkies before we even bother with getting you into a fresh diaper.” Looking back at his friend and her mother, she goes on to continue her earlier conversation. “Little Connie is going to need a babysitter this summer. My girls and I each have our own lives and pursuits, so we decided to enlist some help. They say it takes a village after all. Therefore, it’s only inevitable that others in the community are bound to find out.” She then proceeds to usher everyone out of the nursery in favor of returning to the living room, all the while keeping a solid grip on her stepson’s slim wrist. Patting his swollen bottom, she directs him a fresh set of blocks she had previously set in the corner. “We’ll know when he does his business.” Michelle prattles on as she and the other three women have a seat on the couch. “He usually gets on all fours, squats and grunts – it’s a whole production, really. But back to my proposal…” Mallory immediately perks up, her brilliant green eyes swimming with interest. “How soon would you need me to start?” “Ideally, as soon as possible.” His stepmother picks up her once forgotten glass of wine before taking a slow sip. “I’m well aware that these are a…” She casts another withering glance in Connor’s direction. “...shall we say, unique, set of circumstances. But what’s needed is needed. While school’s in session, I’ll need you a minimum two days a week, four hours a night. As well as every other Saturday, for six hours a night.” “That’s doable.” She adds a small slice of quiche onto her empty plate. “And the rate?” “I’m thinking $25 on weekdays and $35 on weekends. Of course…there’s always the possibility for more. I have no doubt that you’ll make a great fit.” Mallory takes a bite of her food, chewing slowly as she mulls over the offer. No matter how odd, there was no denying the fact the money was too good to ignore. At this rate, if she accepted, she’d have no problem saving up for college in the fall. Nodding to herself, she places the plate on the table before extending her hand to her brand new employer. “Alright, Michelle.” She beams, feeling grateful that she had agreed to accompany her mother this morning. “I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal.” END (PART THREE COMING SOON) Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 8 Maya falls back into her workflow as easily as breathing. She hadn’t come back to a disaster as she’d feared—Sydney had done a fantastic job of keeping anyone from making any alterations to Maya’s favorite projects, and the overall feedback for the department during Maya’s absences has been positive. Over the next month, she’s able to get back into her normal rhythm. There are still some snide comments, rude remarks, or dirty looks thrown her way, but it’s at least bearable now. Mostly. Brianné, Janit’s replacement, seems to dislike Maya almost as much as Janit had. But, fortunately, she doesn’t need to deal with HR on a regular basis, and Meekah’s been watching the entire department like a hawk ever since the Janit fiasco. As it turned out, several other lab employees, including Sydney had been underpaid for quite some time. As far as Maya is aware, Janit was found guilty of embezzlement and a bunch of auxiliary charges—she’ll never work in HR again, and will need to pay restitution to both BioHealth and to all the employees who were affected by her manipulating payroll, so Maya, Sydney, and several other lower-level employees will have some extra Coin to look forward to in the near future. That’s good enough for me, Maya thinks before turning back to her work. Maya is laser-focused, refining a design for some winter boots, doing her best to strike the perfect balance between warm and flexible. No one wants to end up face-down in the snow because their boots are too stiff and clunky. She continues editing to make the laces a bit thicker and easier to grip with gloves on, but the intricate details are a bit tougher to manage with her shaking hands. Maya sighs in frustration. “Time for a break? You’re looking pretty squirmy over there...” Sydney asks, in a tone that suggests she’s telling rather than asking. “In a minute.” Maya says absently, putting the finishing touches on the file before saving her work. “Okay, ready when you are, Syd.” Maya stands up and is immediately aware that she urgently needs the restroom—and it’s rapidly becoming an emergency. She tries, and fails, to hide an uncomfortable squirm, biting her lip when she realizes just how urgent her need is, bladder throbbing dangerously. Where did that come from? I was fine a minute ago! Another throb, more insistent, bordering on outright painful. Uh-oh… “You okay?” Sydney asks, her hand gentle across Maya’s back. “Yeah,” Maya replies quickly, “just didn’t realize I needed to pee until now. Guess I got too absorbed in my work.” Sydney gives her a skeptical look. “Okay, well, let’s head there before we eat. Are you feeling okay?” She pauses to feel Maya’s forehead with the back of her hand. “You seem to be ‘getting absorbed’ a lot lately, sweetie. Director Saphrin mentioned that too.” “Nuh-uh, it only happens sometimes.” Maya counters. She blinks, processing what Sydney has just said. “Wait. You two talk? About me? When did that start being a thing?” Sydney laughs. “Pretty much since you told me she was your Guardian, hon. She can’t always be around to see what’s going on with you or what you might be struggling with sometimes at work, so I’ve been keeping her in the loop.” Maya frowns. “That doesn’t seem very fair. You’re tattling on me.” She folds her arms. “I’m not tattling.” Sydney corrects. “We both care about you and want you to be comfortable. This way, we can make adjustments as things go, to keep up with any changes that might make things a bit trickier for you. It will help to keep stress manageable while lots of other changes are happening—the last thing you need right now is more stress.” “I can handle it. Just ‘cause I’m a Little doesn’t mean I’m helpless or incapable or, dumb.” My protests, her hands drifting to her hips without her really meaning to. Sure, there’d been a few, very minor accidents over the past couple of weeks, but that could happen to anyone. And Sydney—thankfully—doesn’t know about Maya’s worsening, and by now more-than-intermittent nighttime issues… But, no need to give anymore ammunition to Sydney than she already has, considering that she and Meekah are, apparently, in cahoots. “I know you can. No one is saying you’re any of those things at all, Maya. But even if things haven’t gotten to the point where you need big adjustments yet, keeping stress down is still a good thing.” “I don’t need your help! I didn’t ask for it and I can do things myself! I’m not a baby!” Maya’s face is awash with tears before she’s even really registered that she’s crying. “This is so fucking—” Maya is cut off by a horrible spasm from her bladder, followed by a warm, wet sensation spreading down her legs. Oh no… “Oh, sweetheart…” Sydney says gently. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Maya doesn’t resist being pulled into a hug. She feels warm and safe, but above all embarrassed and ashamed. Sydney’s hold on her is the only thing preventing a complete breakdown. “It’s just an accident. No big deal. Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up, good as new.” Sydney shrugs out of her jacket, tying it around Maya’s waist to preserve what’s left of her dignity. Her hand is firm and guiding between Maya’s shoulder blades, a bit larger and warmer than Maya remembers it being before. The trip to the bathroom is a complete blur. Maya is crying hard enough that she makes herself retch, and for an awful, horrible moment, she’s afraid she’ll be sick all over her shoes. She’s stumbling and tripping over her own feet, her anxiety making her already-troublesome coordination issues even worse. Sydney’s saying something into her smartwatch, but it’s all distorted, almost like it’s coming from far away and underwater at the same time; Maya can’t make out what’s being said. Sydney helps her to sit on the closed toilet lid, but Maya pushes her hands away when Sydney moves to help her out of her wet clothes. This feels too intimate for Sydney to be helping with, but Maya makes no move to undress herself. “Meekah…” Maya manages, sniffling. “Okay, hon, she’s on her way right now; I’ll wait right here with you until she gets here, okay? We’re gonna get you all fixed up in no time.” Sydney says, brushing some stray hairs away from Maya’s face. Maya only nods. She sits on the closed toilet lid, barely managing to untie her shoes and take off her gross, wet socks because of how badly her hands are shaking. The lights in the bathroom are too bright, the smell of the soap and bleach and air-freshener too overpowering to be anything other than nauseating. “‘M gonna throw up…” Maya says miserably. Sydney holds her hair back as Maya retches again, harsh and violent, but nothing comes up. The dry-heaving is worse than actually throwing up, Maya realizes, only crying harder when the violent stomach contractions cause her to hit her head on the rim of the toilet as her coordination fails her. She turns away, dizzy and in pain, although the nausea has begun to subside. “I’ll leave you two be, then. I hope you feel better soon, Maya.” Sydney says softly, and excuses herself as Meekah takes her place next to Maya. “Oh, little one…” Meekah’s voice is instantly soothing and almost unbearably gentle. “You’re having a tough day, aren’t you?” Maya nods, reaching for Meekah as if on autopilot. “‘M sorry...I didn’t mean to…” “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for little one. Accidents happen, it’s not a big deal.” Meekah gently places the back of her hand on Maya’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm…” “I’m not sick...I just got really worked up after...you know. I’m really sorry.” Maya says pitifully. “Shh. Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. Dr. Sol said these things would happen, didn’t she?” “Not like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen for another few months still!” Maya protests. It’s not fair! “Did you know you needed to go?” Meekah asks. “I’m not asking that as a trick question, and I won’t be upset with you either way. But it’s important.” “Yeah...I just waited too long. I…” Maya feels her cheeks warming in embarrassment as she replays the events that led up to this in her head. “I kinda got into an argument with Sydney, and then I had an accident. We were on our way here when it happened. I guess I just got too distracted from being so worked up.” “Sydney says you’ve been getting absorbed into your work a lot lately, sweetheart. I think it’s wonderful that you’re so focused and dedicated to doing a good job, but your needs and health always come first, okay? There’s nothing we’re doing here that’s so urgent that there isn’t time for bathroom breaks. And, if anyone gives you any trouble about excusing yourself from a meeting or something like that, they can take it up with me.” Meekah explains. “Okay…” Maya answers quietly. “Here’s what’s going to happen now. We’re going to get you cleaned up—I’ve been keeping a change of clothes in my office for you in case something like this happened and I brought it down here with me. And after that, we’re going to go home for the day and rest. And we’ll also need to talk about taking some...precautions going forward.” Meekah reaches just outside the stall and retrieves a small bag, which she opens, taking out a travel-sized pack of wipes and a change of clothes for Maya. Maya just blinks, feeling overwhelmed and completely off-kilter. She makes no move to take the wipes from Meekah, sniffling. “I wanna stay.” “I know you do, honey, but you’re in no shape to finish out the day right now. I’m not taking work away from you, I’m saying we need to recognize when things are too much and take a break instead of trying to power through and making things more difficult than they need be.” “But—” Maya protests, her voice quiet and weak. Meekah gently brushes some stray hairs out of Maya’s face. “No more ‘buts’ sweetheart. This is what’s happening right now. You don’t have to be happy about it, but this is what needs to be done right now. Here. Let me help, okay? It’ll be faster and then we can get going.” Meekah suggests—although really, it isn’t a suggestion at all. She is quick and efficient in helping Maya get cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. She packs Maya’s wet clothes away in a sealed bag, like this is just a normal Esday, and not the most humiliating experience that Maya’s ever had at work. Maya bites her lip hard enough that she can taste blood as she washes her hands beside Meekah. Sydney probably thinks I’m a huge baby...I’ll never be able to show my face here again...Ashes, things were actually going well for once… “Come on sweetheart,” Meekah says, reaching out to take Maya’s hand before her fingers can meet the same fate as her lower lip. “Let’s go home.” *** “You want me to what? No way!” Maya’s voice is entirely too loud for being indoors, but Meekah doesn’t seem mad at her for her lack of control. “I am not wearing those!” The pull-on is cute without being overtly babyish or infantile, with a subtle floral pattern that looks cozy without drawing attention to itself. It looks strikingly familiar, and that’s when Maya realizes, with a bitter chuckle, that this is one of her designs. “You don’t need to wear them all the time, Maya. Just at night and at work, for just in case.” Meekah says, her voice gentle, but firm. “I don’t need them! It was just an accident!” Maya protests, folding her arms. “I know, sweetheart. That’s exactly what they’re for—just in case of accidents. You don’t want a repeat of today, right? I know you didn’t mean for that to happen, but that’s my point. If you don’t need them, you can just use the bathroom like normal and no one will ever even know you have it on—you designed them to be extra discreet, after all. And, if something does happen, you don’t have to worry about being embarrassed, and getting cleaned up won’t be a big production. You just change into a dry pull-on and go about your day.” Meekah counters, still gentle, but not budging in the slightest. “I’m not a baby!” Maya insists. “I can handle things on my own. This is so unnecessary, I’m not wearing them.” “Maya.” Meekah’s voice gains a stern edge that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I understand that you’re not happy about it, but it’s not up for discussion. This is what’s happening, and it is for your own well-being. What would you have done if Sydney hadn’t been there to help you today? You were a complete mess—which is not at all your fault, I know it was stressful and embarrassing to have that happen. I’m sure that yes, eventually, you would have been able to pull yourself together to call me and ask for help, but what about the meantime—everyone else in the lab would have seen, and that would have been much worse, right?” “Yeah…” Maya admits grudgingly. “I guess so.” “Thank you for understanding. Do you want help putting it on in the morning, or would you rather handle it yourself?” “I can do it.” Maya answers, frowning. “I don’t like this at all.” “I know you don’t. But I’m proud of you for being responsible, even if it’s not something you’re thrilled about doing. Would ice cream help you feel better?” “I guess...with extra sprinkles?” “Of course sweetheart.”

Toujours un régal de te lire, j’attends tous les matins la parution du chapitre pour le lire. Merci et courage pour la suite.

Almost Christmas finds her caught between twinkling market lights and the quiet comfort of home, where a few carefully chosen decorations finally make the dark windows glow. There are short, ordinary trips that suddenly matter, piled into the back of a Mercedes station wagon that smells like winter coats and groceries, laughter warming the space between stops. And threaded through it all is a new rhythm she didn’t know she was ready for, a steady cadence that grounds her days and keeps her moving forward: jogging before dawn through wet streets, a hot shower that feels earned, breakfast that tastes like care, focused schoolwork that clicks into place, and tennis that leaves her flushed and smiling. It’s not loud or dramatic, just real, a life finding its pace at last as Christmas edges closer. Chapter 144 – Almost Christmas “Amélie is supposed to be here already,” Sally said, half to herself, half to the echoing space of Zürich HB. She was wrestling two suitcases across the polished floor—one obedient, the other stubbornly wobbling—still riding the afterglow of Milan while bracing for Swiss December. The sports winter jacket she’d bought on a side street near Brera was earning its keep already. Practical. Warm. Unapologetically not elegant. Which felt right tonight. Theresa was behind her, shorter strides, one hand on the handle of her bag, the other pressed lightly to her lower back. “Jana is also waiting for me outside,” she puffed. “Hey—slow down, kiddo. My back just got fixed, remember?” “Oh—sorry,” Sally mumbled immediately, easing her pace, guilt flashing across her face. Outside, the air was damp and sharp. A fine sprinkle misted the lights, turning reflections into soft halos. The black Range Rover was unmistakable, idling with quiet authority. Jana stood beside it, dressed—predictably—in black, one hand lifted in a crisp wave. And next to her— “Sally!” Amélie’s voice cut through the cold like champagne uncorked too fast. Parisian vowels, unmistakable. She swept forward and hugged Sally with warmth that ignored jet lag, luggage, and weather entirely. “Welcome back.” Sally laughed into the hug, then pulled back, blinking. She looked around instinctively. No green Ferrari. Theresa caught the look and smirked. “You go with Amélie,” she said, already stepping back. “Jana and I have a church singles group tonight. Yes, laugh all you want. See you tomorrow.” A wink. Gone. Amélie was already steering Sally toward the curb. “Come, come.” Sally stopped short. Parked there was a large, square SUV—silver, upright, unapologetic. It looked like it had opinions about weather and wasn’t afraid to express them. Sally frowned, curious despite herself. “What’s that?” Amélie opened the rear door with a flourish, already lifting a suitcase. “Ineos Grenadier,” she said, as if announcing a title. “The perfect winter daily.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “That’s… not subtle.” Amélie grinned. “Neither is winter. Hop in.” Inside, Sally blinked. The cabin was all clean lines and solid surfaces—leather seats, squared dashboard, visible switches that looked like they wanted to be used, not admired. It felt honest. Purpose-built. And somehow… elegant. “I parked the Ferrari for the season,” Amélie said lightly, pulling away from the curb. “She doesn’t enjoy salt. Or snow. Or restraint.” “This is better than a G-Class,” Sally observed, running her fingers over the stitching. “Exactly,” Amélie snapped her fingers. “And everyone has a G now. Boring. This is serious. Functional. And I don’t cry if someone scratches it.” They eased into traffic, Zurich glowing softly under the drizzle. Trams slid past like disciplined thoughts. Pedestrians huddled under scarves and umbrellas, December pressing gently but firmly into the city. “I’m staying at the Baur au Lac,” Amélie continued. “We’ll park there, then walk to the Christmas market at the Opernhaus. Your parents will join us later. Very cinematic.” Sally smiled, watching lights blur against the window. “I like your definition of cinematic.” Amélie glanced sideways. “And you,” she added, approving. “This look suits you. Informal. Grounded.” She gestured toward Sally’s shoulder. “And—mon dieu—that FREITAG bag. You kept it.” “Of course I did,” Sally said, surprised and pleased she remembered. “Geroldstrasse. With you.” Amélie nodded, satisfied. “Some things are worth keeping.” The Grenadier rolled on, steady and unhurried, through soft rain and early Christmas lights—toward markets, reunions, and the quiet sense that the year, at last, was loosening its grip. -- Amélie stopped so abruptly that Sally nearly ran into her. “No,” Amélie declared, lifting a wool sweater from a rack like a verdict. “This one.” Sally squinted at it. Deep green, soft-looking, understated—no blinking lights, no cartoon reindeer. Just texture and warmth. Tasteful. Suspiciously tasteful. “It’s a Christmas sweater,” Sally said slowly, as if saying it out loud might make it disappear. “Exactly,” Amélie replied. “But not a crime.” Sally laughed despite herself and took it. The wool was thick and honest under her fingers. She held it up against herself in the mirror of the small boutique window, rain-speckled and glowing with warm interior light. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned one,” she admitted. Amélie tilted her head. “You’ve also never lived anywhere long enough to need one.” That landed softer than expected. They stepped back into the drizzle, the street strung with lights that reflected in the wet cobblestones like spilled constellations. The air smelled of chestnuts and sugar and cold. Somewhere nearby, bells chimed—unapologetically festive. Sally slowed her steps. “You know what’s weird?” she said. Amélie waited. She was good at that. “I’ve never put up Christmas decorations,” Sally continued. “Not really. Florida… we moved. Everything was boxes and lists and timelines. Before that—” She trailed off, frowning. “It was always complicated.” Amélie stopped again, this time gently, and looked at her. “And now?” Sally glanced around. Windows glowed. Wreaths hung heavy with greenery. Candles burned bravely against the grey. Zurich was doing Christmas properly—quietly, seriously, like it meant it. “Now our house feels… empty,” Sally said. “Everyone else has lights. Ours is just… dark.” Amélie’s mouth curved, not unkindly. “Then we fix that.” They ducked into another shop—smaller, older. No plastic. No glitter. Everything smelled faintly of wood and beeswax. Hand-carved stars. Linen ribbons. Straw ornaments shaped like angels and bells. Candles thick and creamy, their labels handwritten. Sally touched everything like it might bruise. “These aren’t made in China,” Amélie said approvingly. “These are made by people with opinions.” “I like people with opinions,” Sally murmured, lifting a carved nativity figure. Simple. Unpainted. Just form and intention. “That one,” Amélie said at once. “You don’t negotiate with that kind of instinct.” They added greenery. Candles. A small wooden star meant for a window. Nothing loud. Nothing flashy. Things that looked like they would still matter in ten years. Outside again, the rain had slowed to a whisper. The cold crept in properly now, finding wrists and cheeks. Amélie steered them toward a stand glowing amber in the dusk. Steam rose from metal vats. “Vin chaud,” she announced. “Mandatory.” Sally wrapped both hands around the cup when it was pressed into them. The heat startled her. The smell—wine, orange peel, spices—felt like something ancient and kind. She took a careful sip. “Oh,” she breathed. “That helps.” “For the soul,” Amélie said, lifting her own cup. They shared roasted almonds dusted with sugar, fingers sticky, laughing quietly when Sally dropped one and mourned it briefly. Sally pulled her hood up, the new sweater tucked under her arm, decorations rustling softly in their bags. She looked around—at the lights, the people, the rain, the quiet insistence of joy. “I have so much to be thankful for,” she said suddenly. Amélie glanced at her, not teasing this time. “Yes,” she agreed. “And this Christmas,” Sally added, voice softer, steadier, “it’s the first one where I actually know what I’m celebrating.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. Amélie simply nodded, as if that made perfect sense. They stood there for a moment longer, steam curling upward, bells ringing somewhere unseen—two figures under winter lights, holding warmth, carrying it home. -- Sally stood just inside the restaurant doorway, the warmth fogging the glass as rain traced thin lines down the windows. Amélie was a step away, shrugging out of her coat, already chatting with the maître d’ in fluent, musical French. Sally lingered, phone in hand. She looked at the photo one last time before posting. It was taken an hour earlier at the Christmas market: her hood pulled up against the drizzle, cheeks pink from the cold, damp hair escaping stubbornly at her temples. In her hands, cradled carefully instead of displayed, was a small, handcrafted nativity—wood worn smooth, figures imperfect, human. The lights behind her blurred into soft gold halos, the rain turning the whole scene quiet and intimate, like the world had leaned in instead of shouted. No posing. No smile for the camera. Just stillness. She hit post. The screen dimmed as she slipped the phone back into her pocket. For a moment she closed her eyes, breathing in roasted spices, wet wool, and candle smoke that still clung to her jacket. “There you are,” Amélie said softly, looping her arm through Sally’s. “Ready?” Sally nodded, smiling to herself as they walked inside. Ready. -- First Christmas where I finally understand what I’m celebrating. Not the noise. Not the rush. Not the perfection. Just Christ. God choosing closeness. Light choosing to step into darkness. Tonight it’s rain, cold hands, warm wine, and a simple nativity made by someone who cared enough to shape it by hand. And somehow that feels exactly right. Grateful beyond words. #MiracleGirl #HandOfGod #Christmas #Christ -- They did meet—later than planned, as usual. Amélie had already ordered a second bottle of mineral water and was halfway through explaining to Sally why Zurich people pretended not to care about food while quietly caring very much, when Adrian and Bridget walked in, coats damp from the light rain, faces relaxed in that end-of-day way that meant they’d stopped working. “Sally,” Bridget said first, leaning down to kiss her hair. “You look… wintery.” “I take that as a compliment,” Sally replied. Amélie stood, warm and immediate, the way she always was with them. “You made it. I was beginning to think I’d have to adopt your daughter for the evening.” Adrian smiled as he shook her hand, then pulled her into a brief hug. “You already tried that once.” “And failed only because you interfered,” Amélie shot back. The restaurant was small, ordinary by Zurich standards—wood tables, handwritten menu, the kind of place where nobody rushed you and nobody cared who you were. Middle-class, solid, quietly proud of its rösti and seasonal soups. Sally liked it instantly. They ordered simply. Soup to start. Shared plates. Wine, sparkling water for Sally, who insisted she could tell the difference between brands now. Conversation slipped easily into old grooves. Amélie and Adrian talked about work without naming it. Bridget asked about Amélie’s winter plans. Sally listened more than she spoke, watching the three of them together—how familiar they were, how unforced. At one point Amélie leaned back and looked at Sally. “You know,” she said, “your parents are very annoying.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “Why?” “They are happy,” Amélie said. “And rested. It’s unsettling.” Bridget laughed. Adrian pretended not to hear. Dessert was declined by everyone except Sally, who ordered a slice of pear tart and ate it slowly, content. Outside, Zurich moved at its usual measured pace, Christmas lights reflected in wet pavement, nothing dramatic, nothing loud. When they finally stood to leave, coats on, scarves adjusted, Amélie slipped her arm through Sally’s. “Opernhaus next,” she said softly. “We walk. We don’t rush.” Sally nodded. That sounded right. -- That night, the Zürichberg house carried a different kind of glow. Not brighter—just warmer. The lights reflected softly off the windows, catching on pine branches and glass ornaments that hadn’t seen daylight in years. A few candles flickered on the sideboard. Outside, the drizzle blurred the city into watercolor. Inside, the air felt settled, held. “I think there are some decorations in the garage,” Adrian said, half-uncertain, watching Sally crouched by the side table. “Somewhere between the snow chains and the tire pump.” Sally smiled to herself as she adjusted the last sprig of moss around the small nativity scene. It was simple—hand-carved figures, slightly uneven, honest. She tilted Joseph a fraction closer to Mary, stepped back, then leaned in again to straighten the tiny lamb. “These are perfect,” Adrian added, more firmly now. “Much better than plastic angels with missing wings.” Bridget sat on the sofa, one leg tucked beneath her, wine glass balanced loosely in her hand. She didn’t interrupt. She just watched Sally with a quiet, aching fondness that had no need for words. After a moment, she spoke softly. “I think this Christmas means more to us now than it ever did.” Sally didn’t answer right away. She finished what she was doing, brushed the moss from her fingertips, and went to sit beside her mother. Without ceremony, she leaned her head against Bridget’s shoulder. “Tired?” Bridget asked, lowering her voice. Sally nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t want to go to bed. Not yet.” “Then stay,” Bridget said at once, slipping an arm around her. “There’s no schedule tonight.” Sally glanced across the room, playful caution in her eyes. “As long as Dad doesn’t mind.” Adrian looked up from where he was pretending not to listen. “No complaints from me,” he said easily. “I like having my favorite people in one room.” They stayed like that for a while—talk drifting, pauses stretching comfortably between sentences. Sally told them about Milan again, slower this time. About Erika’s face when she walked onto the terrace. About the friends who practiced their English with brave seriousness. About the Duomo at night, white and impossible, like something imagined rather than built. “She cried,” Sally said quietly. “Not loud. Just… looked at me like I’d fixed something that had been broken for too long.” Bridget squeezed her hand. Adrian nodded, absorbing it. “And the train?” he asked. “Still convinced it’s superior to flying?” Sally smiled. “I liked it. Watching the world change instead of skipping over it.” Adrian hummed thoughtfully. Then his mouth curved. “I also noticed the world apparently contains one extra suitcase on the return leg.” Sally groaned. “That wasn’t shopping. That was… cultural exchange.” “Ah,” Adrian said solemnly. “Italy is famous for that.” Bridget laughed, the sound light and full. Sally smiled, eyes heavy now, comforted by the ordinary rhythm of teasing and warmth. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the house held its light. And for once, no one rushed the night toward an ending. -- Eventually, the evening began to fold in on itself. It wasn’t announced. It simply happened—the conversation softening, pauses stretching longer, Sally’s head growing heavier against the sofa cushion. At some point her answers turned into murmurs, then into thoughtful nods that didn’t quite track the question. Bridget noticed first. “She’s gone,” she whispered, smiling. Adrian glanced over. Sally was curled slightly on her side, eyes closed, breathing slow and even, one sock half-slipped off her foot. Her parents’ voices had faded into a low, familiar hum—safe enough to sleep through. “Let her be,” Adrian murmured. “She’s earned it.” But later—carefully, gently—they woke her just enough to guide her upstairs. Sally moved through the house in that soft, half-dream state where everything feels padded and kind. The lights were dimmed. The elevator gently took her up to her apartment. In her room, she changed without thinking too much about it. Jeans folded, t-shirt dropped into the hamper. Underwear off. She pulled on her sleep shorts and her favorite worn sleep shirt—the one that felt like it had already learned the shape of her shoulders. The bathroom light hummed gently. She brushed her teeth slowly, methodically, like it mattered. Flossed. Rinsed. Washed her face, cupping cool water in her hands and pressing it against her cheeks, grounding herself just enough to be present. Her reflection looked softer now, unguarded, the day finally done with her. She slipped a diaper out of the package and fluffed it, then lowered her shorts. She slipped it on with practiced ease and slipped her shorts up over it. On second thought, she lowered her shorts and folded them. She turned off the light and padded back to bed, the gentle diaper rustling between her legs. Outside, rain tapped faintly against the windows. The night was damp and cold beyond the glass, even if the house itself stayed warm. Sally pulled the light blanket over herself anyway—not for warmth, exactly, but for comfort. For the feeling of being tucked in from the world. She curled onto her side, one arm wrapped around the pillow, breath evening out almost immediately. Downstairs, her parents’ voices continued—low, calm, full of small plans and shared certainties about the coming week. Sally didn’t hear them. She was already asleep, carried there by safety, by gratitude, by a quiet joy that didn’t need words anymore. -- The alarm rang at five sharp, slicing cleanly through the quiet. Sally startled awake and fumbled for her phone, silencing it before the second chime could sound. For a moment she stayed still, blinking at the ceiling, orienting herself. During the night she’d kicked the covers off entirely, and now the cool Zurich air clung lightly to her legs, just enough to wake her fully. She swung her feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her soggy diaper pressed between her legs, and she fixed her t-shirt around her waist. All right. Jogging. Shower. Breakfast. Schoolwork. Tennis. The list formed neatly in her head, a familiar comfort. She exhaled, steadying herself, already imagining the reward waiting later—lunch, maybe a short siesta, and a few quiet laps in the indoor pool. A good day. A full one. The bathroom routine was efficient, almost military in its brevity. Cold water on her face. Teeth brushed. Hair pulled back without ceremony. Just enough to feel human again. She untaped her diaper and rolled into a ball, wiping herself to feel clean enough for the moment. Back in her room, she dressed quickly: sports underwear, black leggings, her yellow Nike sweater still warm from the radiator. She crossed to the window and pulled the curtain back a few centimeters. Grey. Wet. Honest Zurich weather. She smiled faintly and reached for her Gulfstream cap, settling it over her hair. The rain outside was light, more mist than rain, but she knew better than to underestimate it. She grabbed her jacket, slipped her phone into the pocket, and paused for a second at the door. “Let’s go,” she murmured to herself. The house was still asleep as she padded toward the stairs, moving quietly out into the morning—determined, awake, and very much alive. -- It was unapologetically dark outside. Not poetic dark. Not romantic dark. Just the honest, early-winter kind that refuses to pretend it’s morning yet. The streetlights still ruled the Zurichberg curves, casting long amber streaks over wet pavement. The city was stirring, but reluctantly—movement without enthusiasm. A neighbor’s Volvo SUV rolled past, headlights steady, purposeful. Somewhere down the hill, a bakery van hummed, its driver already halfway through a routine older than sunrise. Two electric scooters buzzed by, their riders hunched and brave and faintly ridiculous. And Sally—jogging. Her breath puffed faint clouds in front of her, rhythm settling in slowly. At first everything felt stiff: calves, hips, the deep muscles that still remembered months of learning how to move again. But after the first few minutes, her body began to cooperate, warming, loosening, remembering. She checked her pace on instinct, not looking at the app yet. Theresa’s voice echoed in her head, mild but firm. Take it easier, Sally. She had meant to. Truly. Slow jog. Gentle rhythm. One mile, maybe a little more if it felt right. But the app had started telling a different story lately. One mile had quietly become two. Sometimes more. Not out of rebellion—just because her legs kept going when her mind told them they could stop. Her hips protested softly, like an old warning clearing its throat. Her thighs burned—not sharply, not dangerously—but insistently. Sally noticed, adjusted her stride, shortened it slightly. “I’m listening,” she muttered under her breath, unsure whether she was talking to her body or to God. By six thirty, she was sweating freely now, hair damp, sweater clinging at her back. The final stretch home curved uphill, and she leaned into it, breath heavier, steps determined. The house was close—she could almost smell the warmth waiting inside. From the corner of her eye, headlights appeared. She glanced back, squinting through mist and rain. Black Range Rover. She smiled and checked her watch. Figures. The SUV slowed, matching her pace, and the passenger window slid down smoothly. “Need a ride, Princess?” Jana’s voice called out, bright with amusement. Sally laughed, breathless, keeping her stride steady. Theresa was behind the wheel, smiling that knowing, patient smile that meant she’d been watching Sally’s progress with both pride and concern. “I’m good,” Sally called back, shaking her head. Her ponytail flicked rain and sweat. “Almost done.” Jana raised an eyebrow. “Stubborn.” “Dedicated,” Sally corrected, grinning. “Suit yourself,” Jana said, already settling back. The Range Rover surged ahead with quiet authority, rolled to a stop by the gate, and waited as it opened automatically. Sally jogged past a moment later, crossing the threshold just as the SUV eased forward, tires crunching softly up the stone ramp. Theresa leaned out the window slightly. “Shower. Breakfast. Then you’re mine for schoolwork,” she called. “Yes, ma’am,” Sally shot back, saluting exaggeratedly as she slowed to a walk. She stood there for a second, hands on her hips, breathing hard, rain misting her face. The house glowed warmly ahead. The city behind her continued waking, indifferent and steady. Sally smiled to herself. Still here. Still moving. Still getting stronger. -- And that was precisely what her week in Zurich ended up being. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just right. The shower came first—earned, necessary, almost ceremonial. Warm water poured over her shoulders and down her back, carrying away the chill of rain, the ache in her legs, the lingering fog of early morning. Sally lingered longer than usual, letting the steam soften her muscles, letting the soap do more than clean. It felt like therapy disguised as routine. When she finally stepped out, pink-cheeked and relaxed, she wrapped herself in softness—comfortable clothes that didn’t ask anything of her. She almost slipped a Goodnite on but then thought better about it. She was in work mode. By the time she padded into the kitchen, she was already smiling. Mia had laid out breakfast like a gentle ambush. Scrambled eggs, still glossy and soft. Sausages arranged neatly on a warm plate. Toast stacked with quiet pride. A glass of orange juice glowing like captured sunlight. Sally stopped short. “Mia… this is a feast.” Mia turned, wooden spoon in hand, eyes narrowing affectionately. “You ran in the dark. In the rain. You eat.” Sally laughed, dropping into her chair. “You know they’re waiting to steal me the second I finish, right?” Mia sniffed. “They can wait.” As if summoned by the word, Theresa appeared in the doorway, laptop under her arm, already mid-thought. “If she eats fast, I can steal her by—” Mia raised one eyebrow. Theresa stopped. Blinked. Then, wisely, changed course. “Coffee?” “Later,” Mia said firmly. “She eats first.” Jana looked up from her phone, where timelines and lists marched in orderly columns. “I respect this hierarchy,” she said solemnly. Sally grinned around a mouthful of eggs. “Mia, you should offer them coffee before they revolt.” Mia sighed, already pouring. “Fine. But she eats.” Theresa settled at the counter, fingers flying across her keyboard, reworking slides for Adrian’s online meeting. Jana sipped her coffee quietly, eyes flicking between her screen and Sally with that familiar, protective awareness. Sally leaned back in her chair, warm, full, clean, and—most importantly—unhurried. This was the rhythm she hadn’t known she needed. Not recovery. Not achievement. Just being held gently in place long enough to grow. -- It wasn’t worth detailing the intensity of the morning. If Sally wanted to close the year clean—really clean, with nothing trailing behind her into Christmas—then there was only one way to do it. She sat down, opened her laptop, and disappeared into focus. And she delivered. Otto finally accepted her economics essay without edits. That alone would have been enough. But then he paused, reread a paragraph, and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “This is… publishable,” he said slowly. Sally blinked. “As in… for a school journal?” “As in,” Otto continued, “I have colleagues who would profit from reading your analysis. You’re thinking clearly. Independently. That’s rare.” Sally waited for the punchline. It never came. Otto didn’t joke when it came to mentorship. He didn’t flatter. His praise landed with weight—and stayed there. She moved on. She almost missed not having padding on. But she tried not to think about it. Olivia was less poetic and far more exacting. Financial problems came back with red notes and short instructions. Perfect means perfect, Sally. There is no interpretation in numbers. Sally corrected. Rechecked. Submitted again. Straight A. “That’s what I expected,” Olivia said simply, already moving on to the next item. Theresa, reviewing everything in parallel, found nothing to dismantle. No raised eyebrow. No pointed sigh. Just a small nod and a quiet update to Adrian during one of their overlapping work sessions. “She’s ahead of schedule,” Theresa said. “And solid.” Adrian nodded once, the faintest smile touching his mouth before he returned to his screen. Theresa noticed it anyway. Later in the morning, Bridget appeared. Not rushing. Not drained. Just… present. She brought her coffee into Adrian’s study and settled beside Sally, who had been given a cleared desk by one of the tall windows. Light spilled across old wood and new notebooks. It felt earned. “I’m a lot better,” Bridget said quietly. “The doctor sort of confirmed what we already knew. This year took its toll.” Sally looked up. “You scared me a bit.” Bridget reached out and squeezed her hand. “I know. I’m sorry.” She took a sip of coffee. “It’s menopause. Intense year. No mystery. I’m scheduled for a full check next week.” Sally considered this carefully, then grinned. “So… I got an old mom.” Bridget laughed, but Adrian looked up sharply from his conversation with Theresa. “I resent that,” he said, voice warm but mock-stern. “I married a young woman. She’s in her forties. I’m the old one here. I’m almost sixty.” Bridget turned to him, unimpressed. “You are fifty-seven. I am forty-seven. Let’s not twist time for vanity.” Theresa snorted before she could stop herself. Sally leaned back in her chair, smiling, surrounded by work done well, adults who showed up, and a house that felt steady again. For the first time all year, she wasn’t catching up. She was finishing strong. -- Sally glanced at her watch and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead. “Well,” she said lightly, “since everyone seems wildly optimistic about my productivity today… may I head out and shoot some tennis balls? Before my brain melts.” Bridget smiled into her coffee. Theresa didn’t even look up from her tablet, already nodding approval. “Go,” Theresa said. “Movement is allowed. Overuse is not.” Adrian looked up from his desk. “Mind if I join you?” Sally blinked. Once. Twice. “You play?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. Adrian raised an eyebrow. “I own two tennis courts. One indoor. One outdoor. Did you think they were decorative?” Sally let out a small, awkward laugh and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve just… never seen you play.” “That’s fair,” Adrian conceded, standing. “I’m probably rusty. But I can still swing a racquet without injuring myself. Most days.” Sally grinned, already imagining it. “Okay,” she said. “But full disclosure—I’m competitive.” Adrian picked up a jacket, smiling. “Good. That means I won’t have to pretend.” She laughed as they headed toward the court. “Well then,” she said, grabbing her racquet, “you might as well teach me how to lose.” Adrian chuckled. “Careful what you wish for, Fräulein Weiss.” -- They met again twenty minutes later, as agreed. Sally came down the hallway first, already in her short tennis outfit, legs bare despite the season, racquet slung casually over her shoulder. She had bundled her winter sports jacket under one arm for the short walk to the court, hair pulled into a practical ponytail, cheeks already pink with anticipation. Adrian appeared a moment later—empty-handed, no jacket, sleeves casually rolled. Sally stopped short. “You’re not wearing a coat.” He smiled, entirely unbothered. “Indoor court. Heated. Roberto turned it on.” She squinted at him. “You planned this.” “He’s had twenty minutes. It’d better be on,” he replied serenely. They walked side by side through the quiet house, the sound of their steps soft against stone. Sally tugged her jacket tighter around herself. “Show-off,” she muttered. “Efficient,” he corrected. Inside the tennis court, warmth wrapped around them instantly—clean, controlled heat, the faint scent of concrete and warm air. The lights hummed softly overhead. Sally peeled off her jacket and draped it over a bench, bouncing once on her toes. Adrian stretched his shoulders, rolled his neck. “All right. Warm-up first. No heroics.” “Wasn’t planning any,” Sally said innocently, already twirling her racquet. They started slow. Gentle rallies. Easy forehands, relaxed backhands. The sound of the ball echoed rhythmically—thock, thock—steady and unhurried. Sally’s body fell into it quickly. The movements were familiar now, no longer cautious. Her feet adjusted automatically. Her shoulders rotated smoothly. She breathed evenly. “Good,” Adrian called. “Stay light on your feet. Don’t lock your knees.” She nodded, returned another clean shot. “Earlier preparation,” he added. “Think ahead, not late.” “Yes, coach,” she teased. He smirked. “You’ll thank me later.” They picked up the pace gradually. Adrian fed her consistent, forgiving balls, placing them just far enough to make her move but never so far she had to strain. When she overreached, he corrected gently. “Core, Sally. Not just arm.” She tried again. Better. “There you go.” Her shots grew stronger. More confident. Sweat gathered at her temples. Her breathing deepened—not labored, just engaged. “Okay,” Adrian said after a moment, eyes sharpening slightly. “Now… play it hard.” Sally blinked. “You sure?” He planted his feet. “Absolutely. Don’t hold back.” Something in his tone gave her permission. She inhaled, then swung. This time the ball flew faster, lower. Adrian returned it effortlessly, adjusting his stance, absorbing her force without effort. “Again.” She did. Harder. “Yes,” he called. “That’s it. Follow through. Don’t pull away.” Sally grinned as she ran, hit, pivoted. Her legs burned pleasantly. Her body felt powerful—anchored, responsive. At one point she laughed breathlessly. “You’re making this look unfair.” “That’s experience,” Adrian replied lightly, sending another ball her way. “You’ll get there.” The door to the court opened quietly. Bridget stepped in, wrapped in a soft coat, coffee in hand. She paused, unnoticed at first, and took in the scene—her husband steady and focused, her daughter alive with motion, color in her face, strength in her stride. She smiled and sat on the stands. Sally caught sight of her mid-rally and faltered for half a second. “Eyes on the ball,” Adrian warned gently. Sally laughed, refocused, and sent another clean shot back. Bridget watched them move together—familiar rhythms, shared glances, the easy language of trust and encouragement. No pressure. No proving. Just presence. When Sally finally leaned forward, hands on her knees, breathing hard but smiling, Adrian lowered his racquet. “Good session,” he said. Sally nodded, flushed and glowing. “Yeah. Really good.” Bridget clapped softly from the stands. “You two look very convincing out there.” Adrian turned, mock-bowing. “Family sport.” Sally straightened, wiped her forehead, and grinned at both of them. It felt normal. And that, more than anything, felt extraordinary. -- A siesta felt infinitely better when it was earned. Sally didn’t even make it to the far side of the bed. She peeled off her clothes and flopped down where she stood, limbs loose, hair spilling across the pillow. She fished for a diaper under her bedside, and stripped off her panties, slipping the diaper on. Sleepyhead precautions. She relaxed her legs on the bed. The house might have been old, but the heating was quietly perfect—modern, invisible, indulgent. She didn’t bother pulling a blanket over herself. She set her alarm. The mattress seemed to accept her completely, as if it had been waiting. Jogging before dawn. Hours of concentration. Tennis with her dad, all effort and laughter. Then lunch—simple but restorative. Warm tomato soup, roasted chicken with crisp skin, salad dressed just right. Mia had that gift: making food feel like care, not fuel. Sleep took her without negotiation. When she woke, it was to the gentle pressure of her mother’s hand on her shoulder. “Sally,” Bridget said softly. “I was wondering when you’d wake up, honey.” Sally startled, eyes flying open, heart racing for a split second before reality settled. She blinked, then groaned, rolling onto her back. “Oh no.” She reached for her phone, squinting at the screen. “Crap,” she muttered. “I set the alarm… but I didn’t actually turn it on.” Bridget laughed under her breath. “Two hours. Solid ones.” Sally groaned again and rolled to the edge of the bed. Bridget surveyed her diapered form – Sally was dry – and handed her a pair of loose lounge pants, already warmed from being folded over her arm. Sally tugged them on, catching her mother’s expression—soft, amused, unmistakably affectionate. “What?” Sally asked, already suspicious. “Nothing,” Bridget said, smiling. “You still look adorable, you know. Diaper and all.” She reached out and brushed Sally’s cheek with her thumb. “Curled up like that. Blankets everywhere. It warms my heart.” Sally made a face, dramatic and long-suffering. “Thank you, Mom. I feel significantly more loved now.” “That was the goal,” Bridget said serenely. The afternoon unfolded more slowly than Sally had planned—and somehow, that felt right. She ended up stretched out on the sofa with her dad, legs tucked under her, diaper secure under her loose lounge pants and slightly oversize hoodie. sketchbook balanced on her lap. The television murmured in the background—cars, of course. A glossy segment on a Ferrari that might never exist outside a private collection. “Overdesigned,” Sally commented without looking up. Adrian raised an eyebrow. “That one?” “Yes. Too many lines. It’s trying too hard.” Then, a Koenigsegg. Adrian hummed appreciatively. “That one’s honest,” Sally allowed. “Still terrifying. But honest.” After that came a Bugatti—beautiful, mythical, untouchable. “Not for sale,” Adrian said, amused. “Never was,” Sally replied. “And never will be.” She sketched as they talked, pencil moving almost on its own. Il Duomo rose beneath her hand, seen from above, precise but softened by memory. The square spread out in front of it. A small station wagon taxi, one hubcap missing. Two girls mid-motion, arms raised, caught forever in the act of flagging it down. She smiled to herself. It wasn’t just a drawing. It was a moment she’d decided to keep. -- The rest of the week settled into a rhythm that felt deliberate without being rigid—days shaped by intention, softened by familiarity. Mornings stayed early. Sally kept waking before the house, tugging off her diaper, slipping into leggings and a sweater, pulling on her cap, and jogging the quiet Zürichberg streets while the city stretched itself awake. Some days the fog sat low and patient; other mornings the sky was a pale, undecided grey. She learned which corners held frost longest, which bakery vans appeared first, which dogs always barked at her passing. By Friday, it felt less like visiting and more like belonging. Breakfasts became small ceremonies. Mia hovered, protective and slightly scandalized by Sally’s appetite after exercise. “You eat like this every morning?” she asked once, sliding over more toast. “Only when I move,” Sally replied, smiling. Mia sniffed. “Still too thin.” Sally frowned. She wasn’t. She was gaining weight. Theresa would be nearby, laptop open, headphones half on, glancing up just often enough to make sure Sally wasn’t overdoing anything. Jana sat quietly, building timelines and checklists that looked deceptively calm. Mid-mornings were for work. Sally focused fiercely, moving through assignments with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what rest awaited if she finished well. Otto sent one final message on Friday morning—short, precise. “Gute Arbeit. Denk weiter. Werd nicht bequem.” Sally smiled at that. Praise, in Otto’s language. One afternoon, Adrian announced they were going to the supermarket. Mia looked personally wounded. “But… I already ordered everything,” she protested, arms crossed. “We need nothing,” Bridget agreed gently. “Which is precisely why we’re going.” Sally laughed as they climbed into the old brown E500 station wagon—the one that still smelled faintly of leather and winter coats, the one her grandfather had driven. Adrian handled the wheel with easy familiarity. Sally sat in the back, watching the city pass, aching just a little at the thought that the car was hers in every way except the one that mattered most. “Soon,” Adrian said, catching her look in the mirror. “I know,” she replied. “I’m patient. Mostly.” The supermarket trip was inefficient and cheerful. Bridget debated olive oils with a Portuguese attendant. Adrian inspected bread like it was a financial prospect. Sally pushed the cart, sneaking chocolate and cheeses into it when no one was looking. Mia forgave them by dinner. Wednesday afternoon, Sally and her mother walked along the Zürichsee. The lake was calm, metallic, edged with winter light. They walked slowly, bundled but comfortable, their reflections stretching and shortening along the wet pavement. “You excited to go back?” Bridget asked. “Yes,” Sally said without hesitation. “Old Cutler Bay feels… settled now.” “And Christmas there?” Sally nodded. “Warm. Quiet. Real.” Bridget squeezed her hand. “I’m looking forward to it too.” They talked about nothing and everything—books, travel, small annoyances, future plans that didn’t need firm edges yet. It felt like catching up on time they’d both been too tired to notice slipping by. By Thursday morning, the house had that familiar pre-departure hum. Suitcases appeared. Lists were checked. Mia packed snacks “just in case.” Sally laid out her travel clothes with care, already mentally shifting continents. Today, she’d fly to Florida with Jana and Theresa. The following weekend they’d all be together. Home. She’d spend time in her own space, settle back into routine. Meet Olivia at the newly finished Pembroke-Weiss Foundation offices. Not as a figurehead. Not as a child. As a student. A mentee. One-on-one. Her trust. Her future. Expectations that felt heavy—but not frightening. By the time the sun dipped behind Zürichberg on Thursday, Sally stood by the window, watching the last light fade. She felt ready.

Frankly I think Harley imagines herself as a future Kim, except Kim is much more capable of working with the vibes her "little" gives her in the moment, as opposed to just imposing her will on them, which is pretty much ALL the energy Harley gives off.

Thanks to @spoonchicken for starting us off early with a hundred dollar donation!

Merci beaucoup! Tomorrow there will be no update. I am on the road, so please be patient!

I was out with my cousin and his boyfriend [soon to be husband] for a games night last week with the younger crowd of the family. On the drive back, I came out to them & they were SUPER accepting and helpful. I mentioned that it took a while for me to find out about my queerness, how I never cared for the parades and slang [which the boyfriend said neither do I] & we talked about how labels aren't super helpful. It was one of the most vulnerable moments of my life & they were the first people close to me i came out to. "labels are for under the tree, never for those who are sexually free" - rocky flintstone, 2021 - Thank you to everyone in here helping me out and offering words of encouragement to be & understand myself.

Hi DD! Hope you're all doing well and enjoying the holiday season with your loved ones. Today marks 4 years, 3 months, and 21 days on my padded journey I’ll round up for the post title and just say 52 months since my last update. After my last post a few months ago, I decided to try Northshore’s boosters and I ended up really liking them. They work great with a Megamax and help shave off a diaper change here and there throughout the day, which adds up. I’m not sure if they’re actually saving much money since they’re a bit pricey themselves, but hey, I like them and have been using them regularly. Funny enough, now when just wearing a Megamax without a booster, it feels like I'm wearing something a little too thin even though I'm not. My holidays were wonderful, though busier than in previous years now that I’m in a relationship and have two separate families to visit. This year, we planned a trip to North Carolina to meet my partner’s parents for the first time and spend a week at their home. My parents got Thanksgiving, and we celebrated an early Christmas with my family. We just got home this past Saturday and spent Sunday catching up on groceries and laundry. Thanksgiving was lovely and pretty uneventful diaper wise. We had my extended family over and enjoyed some yummy sides, though the turkey options were pretty underwhelming (My Dad would kill me if I said that ). Early Christmas with my family, on the other hand… if your family is like mine, “arrive at 4” really means 5 or 6. We showed up around four and were sitting on the couch chatting with my parents about our upcoming trip to NC. My partner was talking with my dad when a few moments later, I felt a large toot escape. Plastic pants, diaper, and the couch muffled it slightly, and I laughed it off only to feel the sudden pang that I needed to go, and my body was already pushing. I started to get up to excuse myself to the bathroom, but my body didn’t wait. I ended up messing fully before I even made it there. After locking myself in the bathroom, I had to text my partner to bring my changing bag from the car. A change and a trip to the outside trash can later, I was clean. My parents asked if I was okay but didn’t pry, thankfully my siblings hadn’t arrived yet, or I know I’d have been teased. Our Christmas at her parents house was only a week away, and planning wasn’t too bad… until my partner mentioned, “Hey, just thought of this.. my parents don’t have trash service. They usually take things to the dump.” Cue last minute panic the day before our flight! Normally on vacations, it’s easy to pre-ship supplies to a hotel, but I was nervous about sending a case of Northshore to her parents around Christmas in case they opened it by accident. So we opted to pack everything I needed in a checked bag instead. Aside from expensive flights and baggage fees, travel wasn’t too bad. I kept two spare diapers in my carry-on and wore a Northshore with a booster and plastic pants on both flights. Security was, as usual, the unfun part.. I got patted down, and then for some reason they decided to x-ray my flats after the body scanner flagged my crotch. Not sure what the heck I could hide in my flats, but hey atleast we're Secure. By the time we landed in North Carolina, I was pretty soaked and changed in a family bathroom, which was easy enough. We rented a car for the hour long drive to their home, arrived in the evening, said hello, and headed up to our room. Her parents are lovely and their home is beautiful, but the smell was not.. They’re smokers and have smoked inside most of their lives. Cue watery eyes and runny noses all week, plus my hair and all our clothes smelling like an ashtray (and neither of us smokes!). Since her parents are older, we’d chat for a bit, relax in the guest room (my partner’s old room), then go into town for food. That was pretty much the rhythm of the trip. About the no trash service: they live a few streets from a local dump area. Her dad refused to pay for something he could do himself. I kept a black trash bag under the guest bathroom sink for used diapers, and it wasn’t a big deal. We made two trips to the dump to dispose of them without her parents knowing. I’d say the real “eye-opener” on how much my body has changed was during this Christmas trip. My normal routine was completely upended.. different flights, foods, drinks, room, environment, people. What didn’t change? How my body behaved. I was still constantly wet or soaked. I still messed two to three times a day. In terms of my incontinence, nothing interrupted it. Wearing a good Megamax with a booster was my daily existence. same as always. The only addition was wearing plastic pants 24/7 at her parents house. Normally at home I just wear the diaper and booster, plastic pants are for work or parties where I’m around others in close proximity. They’re fine, but they can irritate my sensitive skin after too long. Thankfully, the trip ended on a good note with no leaks or major embarrassments. After a final change into a fresh booster and Megamax, we drove back to the airport, returned the car, and headed inside. Surprisingly, security didn’t pat me down this time? no idea why, but it was nice for once! The airport that Saturday was packed, and the airline made everyone check their carry-ons, so I was without my two spare diapers on the flight. The flight back to Texas was uneventful. We grabbed our checked bags, and even though I felt pretty wet, I decided to wait to change until after the Uber ride home. Our cats greeted us happily, and I beelined to the bathroom to shower. The plastic pants had held up, but I’d definitely leaked a bit, as there was a small pool of urine on the back of the pants. A shower and change later, I was finally relaxed and happy that my hair no longer smelled like an ashtray. So that’s my holiday season summed up! Proof that being 24/7 isn’t hard, but it does require planning and making sure you have supplies wherever you go. Occasional embarrassment aside, it’s my life and I’m happy living it. Meeting my partner’s parents was wonderful, and her older sibling was nice, too. I learned that even without trash service, you can make it work. Who doesn’t love a trip to the local dump during the holidays? Hope everyone is well and has a Happy New Year! I haven’t planned my resolutions yet! I’d love to hear yours. As always, if you have any questions, let me know. I’m happy to chat! -With love, Becca PS: Edited and wanted to say, we had BBQ one of the days while visiting her parents, and I might be biased but Texas BBQ is way better then NC BBQ

I'll do what the op does if I'm out in public and need a poo. If I'm at home I'll usually just do it in my diaper.

If you want to wear and still use the potty there's nothing wrong with that. I pull mine down for #2 because I don't enjoy it. It doesn't matter if you pull them down to pee because you want to make one diaper last all day. The only wrong way to do it is someone else's way when you really want to do it differently. Find what makes you happy and you'll be doing the right way. Hugs, Freta

Annie had been eagerly awaiting this day for nearly a month. The family that she was renting a room from while she is attending college were all going out of town for the day to go shopping, leaving her alone all morning, afternoon, and well into the evening. They had, of course, offered to take her as well, but she had politely declined. She'd been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Annie had discovered years ago that she had a fetish for both bondage and diapers. Since that discovery, perverted, sexual desires seemed to constantly fill her mind involving both. Every time she became aroused she imagined herself in numerous scenarios, all of which involved her tied up and diapered. Her fetish for diapers didn't just stop there though. Annie was an adult baby. She didn't just want to wear and use diapers. She wanted to wear childish clothes, suck on a pacifier, sleep in a crib, and numerous other babyish activities. Annie wanted all of this to be forced upon her. She wanted a cruel master or mistress to tie her up and force her to use her diaper. She wanted to be restrained in a crib, hopelessly horny and unable to touch herself. To be sent out in public wearing children's clothes and a big babyish diaper, not allowed to return until her diaper is well used. Fantasies like these regularly permeated her mind, to the point where she knew she needed to do something about it. Unfortunately for Annie it was nearly impossible to do so while living in the dorms. Having three room mates and very little personal space prevented her from being able to keep any of the paraphernalia she would need to satisfy her sexual desires. For the first couple of years of college her fantasies were forced to stay as just that. In her junior year Annie had decided to not live in the dorms. Instead, she was paying a family to stay in a spare room they had. She loved the extra freedom and privacy she had, and not just for sexual reasons. The family was also very nice and the commute to campus was short. It was honestly one of the best decisions she could have made. Since moving in, this was the first time that Annie would have the house all to herself for an extended period of time and she planned on utilizing it as best as she could. With the increased privacy she now had Annie begun to amass a collection of items to help live out her sexual fantasies. Her first purchase had been a pair of leather cuffs and a sample pack of adult baby diapers. After the family had all gone to bed that night she played with her new toys and had the time of her life. That was when she knew she couldn't just stop there. Since then she had purchased a pacifier, a ball gag, a vibrator, a mix of adult baby and actual children's clothes, pull-ups for children, a few butt plugs, and several other items. She had a big padlocked chest that she kept all of these items in. The family never went into her room without permission, but it gave her peace of mind knowing that it was safely secured away. The chest was getting close to full after her most recent purchase though. Annie had recently placed her largest order by far in anticipation of today. The family she was staying with consisted of a mother, father, and two daughters. The youngest of which was only two years old, meaning that they had plenty of furniture for her. While home alone in the past Annie had gotten a bit adventurous. One time she had gone into the toddler's nursery and climbed into the crib. Her small frame was able to fit if she bent her legs back. Another time she went down to the kitchen and climbed into the highchair. The highchair was bigger than average and Annie was definitely smaller than the majority of woman, so she wasn't really surprised when she was able to sit in it, strap herself in, and secure the tray. The knowledge that she could fit in the highchair, albeit fairly snugly, was a game changer for Annie. Whenever she could, she would get dressed up in a diaper or pull-up, put on some childish clothing, and go strap herself into the highchair. There, she would release her bladder and then rub herself to orgasm through her hot, wet, diaper. These were always some of the most intense orgasms for her. Unfortunately for Annie, opportunities to do this were few and far between, which is what made today so special. Before now the family had only ever been gone for about three hours at most. Today they would be gone for at least ten. When Annie had heard the news of this trip she immediately got to work planning what was bound to be the best sexual indulgence session of her life. Once her plan was complete she went online and purchased everything she would need. Utilizing timer locks, Annie planned to lock herself in the highchair for two whole hours. She was going to drink as much water as she could beforehand to ensure that she would be forced to soak her diaper. This wasn't her entire setup though, not even close. Annie wanted this day to be amazing as possible and all of her purchases from the last couple of weeks reflected that. When Annie was sure that the family was gone for good, she sprang her plan into action. She started by completely undressing until she was left nude. From her chest she pulled out everything she was going to need and setting them out. The outfit she decided on for today was a white T-shirt with the Pampers logo on the chest, pink and white striped thigh-high socks, pink bows that split her hair into twin-tales, and an adult sized bib with the words "Messy Baby" embroidered on it. Her diaper was pink and covered in princesses and ponies, one of the thickest, highest capacity, and most infantile she could find. Of course, that wasn't all though. Annie started by pulling out a bottle of lube. She began rubbing down the butt plug that she had selected. It was a longer one that got thicker as it reached the base and it even doubled as a vibrator. Once sufficiently lubed, Annie worked it into her rectum, moaning as it slowly expanded her hole until it was all the way in. She had originally planned on messing herself today as well, but thought that it would be best not to risk stinking up the house. Next, Annie laid down on the ground on top of the opened diaper. She thoroughly powdered herself up with her bottle of baby powder before also inserting her vibrator. The vibrator was unimpeded due to how aroused she had been leading up to this. With both items inserted, Annie taped her diaper up. The diaper was nice and snug on her, ensuring the vibrator would stay in place. She would turn it and the butt plug on right before she locked herself in the highchair. Now that she was penetrated and diapered she could move on to other parts of her outfit. Annie sat up and grabbed her pair of nipple clamps. The little bells attached to them jingled as she picked them up and un-clamped them. She involuntarily gasped when she allowed them to painfully clamp back down on her perky nipples. The feeling was quite uncomfortable but at the same time incredibly arousing. The bells that jingled with every little movement added a nice bit of humiliation to the mix. The next item to go on was her pink, leather collar. The collar was entirely pink leather on the outside, but the inside was lined with soft fake fur that made it comfortable to wear. On the front was a D-ring meant for a leash. Annie had a leash to go with it but didn't plan on incorporating it today. In its place was a small metal tag that read "Baby Annie" on it. It was custom made and came with the collar. Another perk of the collar was that the belt style system it had for securing itself could be locked using a small padlock, which Annie did. For now that would be all of the bondage gear. Annie proceeded to don her shirt, thigh-highs, and bib. She took a minute to admire herself in the mirror as she stood up, admiring how cute she looked. Her outfit was still incomplete though. Wanting to hurry up and get in the highchair she diverted her focus from her reflection, grabbed everything else she needed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Just walking around with the vibrator inside her giving her an incredible amount of stimulation. She had to occasionally pause just to avoid cumming. Annie set everything down on the kitchen counter once she arrived. Her first course of action was to plug her laptop in and wake it up. She planned on having a constant stream of baby cartoons playing on it. She'd be forced to listen and watch along while she was bound, which excited her. Everything was already setup so all she needed to do was hit play when she was ready. Next, Annie went over to the cupboard, grabbed a large cup, and went over to the sink. She then began repeatedly filling it up and quickly chugging it down. She did this four times before her stomach felt like it was about to burst. She figured that much water would be more than enough both keep her hydrated and ensure her diaper would be very wet. The knowledge that it would eventually wind up in her diaper sent jolts of excitement through her body. She was nearly ready now. Now that her mouth was no longer necessary she popped the over-sized teat of her pacifier gag into it. She brought the straps of the gag back behind her head and secured them tight enough to prevent it from being removed. Once it was in place she slid a tiny padlock through the belt hook and clicked it shut, ensuring it would not be removed. The pacifier itself was quite large, clearly having been made for adults. The teat was massive and took up a majority of the space in her mouth. It forced her tongue down in her mouth and made sure that anything she would try to say would be nearly unintelligible. The shield and straps of the pacifier were pink, matching the rest of her outfit. It was now finally time to take her place on her throne. Annie hit play on her laptop before walking over to the awaiting highchair. The tray had already been removed and was sitting on the table next to her. On top of it she placed the ring of keys for all of the locks she was using and her cell phone. To be safe, she had previously ensured that she would be able to operate it with her nose. She also verified that she would be able to bend down far enough to reach it while sitting in the highchair. As Annie sat down she felt the increased pressure on the butt plug and vibrator. Due to her short stature and the above average height of the highchair, Annie's legs couldn't connect with the ground, meaning there was even more weight pressing against the items. This also had another delightful side effect of making it harder to relieve that pressure, even more so with the highchair straps secured. The loud cartoons blared in the background in front of her as she grabbed the first cuff and secured it around her left ankle. A short chain was secured to the D-ring on the cuff, which she twisted around the leg of the highchair a couple of times before securing it with one of the small padlocks. She then performed the same procedure on her right leg. Once complete she could hardly move her legs. Now that her legs were secured, it was time to switch on the vibrators. Annie leaned forward and plunged her right hand into the back of her diaper. She felt around until she found the switch for her butt plug. She flicked it over to high and immediately felt her rectum come to life with vibrations. Annie moaned into her pacifier as she removed her hand and worked it through the front of her diaper. She wanted to go through one of the leg holes, but was unable to due to how forced together her legs were by the seat of the highchair and the bulk of her diaper. A wave of light pleasure began to course through her body when she managed to turn the vibrator onto it's lowest setting, where it would remain for the rest of her experience. It was finally time for the final restraints. Fighting the urge to rub herself through her diaper, Annie quickly secured the highchairs straps tightly over her legs and diaper, forcing her against the chair with little room for adjustment and pressing her diaper and vibrator tightly against her. She then picked the tray off of the table and slid it onto the chair. When it finally clicked into place she could no longer see her diaper or legs. Just two more locks and she would be stuck like this for hours. Annie grabbed the final two cuffs and secured them onto both of her wrists. She then proceeded to wrap the chain attached to her left cuff around the chair and lock it together, making her left arm useless. Now was the hardest part. She had to give the right chain more slack to be able to lock it with just the one hand. After a bit of struggling she was eventually able to get it into place. All she had to do now was click the timer lock shut and enjoy herself. She had already preset it for twos hours. It would immediately begin counting down as soon as it was locked and only open once it hit zero. Taking a deep breath, Annie clicked the lock shut. Excitement coursed through Annie's mind. She was now completely stuck like this for the next two hours. Locked in a child's highchair in a diaper, unable to escape the light, teasing pleasure of her vibrator. She had purposely put it on low to make it as hard as possible to orgasm. She wanted to be teased with enough pleasure to keep her thoroughly aroused, but not enough to bring her to orgasm. She yearned to suffer, constantly aroused and yet unable to do anything about it. Her hands were locked to the highchair and the tightened straps over her legs and diaper kept her firmly planted in her seat, making it nearly impossible to hump her diaper. The intense vibrations from the butt plug didn't provide really anything in the way of pleasure, it was just there to tease her further and remind her of her status. Annie tugged on her restraints, confirming to herself that she was not going anywhere. The vibrator in her diaper was impossible to ignore. It's unending vibrations caused Annie to moan into her large pacifier. Her body desperately yearned for more pleasure, but it would not come. This was all she was going to get and she had better get used to it. Annie's mind soon shifted to the numerous fantasies she had come up with for herself over the years. She wished that she had a master or mistress here that would enforce her diaper bondage. She wished that they would subject her to this treatment as punishment for bad behavior. She imagined herself over their lap, being spanked intensely while they explained what was going to happen to her. They'd tie her up in her highchair and mercilessly edge her for hours. She'd be brought to the brink of orgasm before they suddenly stopped, leaving her frustrated and desperate. Her mind shifted again. She now imagined the family coming home and finding her like this. Seeing her locked in their daughter's highchair wearing a soaked diaper and sucking on a pacifier. Upon closer investigation they would hear the vibrators and put the pieces together. The parents would be furious and berate her before deciding that if this is how she wanted to be treated then they would oblige. From then on, she would be forced to wear diapers at all times. She'd be fed all her meals in the highchair in front of the rest of the family and sleep in a crib. They'd have to hire a babysitter that was years younger than Annie to keep an eye on her while they were out. Despite the boost in arousal Annie was getting from these fantasies, there just wasn't enough physical stimulation for her to orgasm. Whining into the pacifier, she began moving her hips in an attempt to stimulate herself. Unfortunately the straps did their job too well and prevented her from rubbing the vibrator on her clit. The only thing she was accomplishing was making the bells on her nipple clamps jingle. After several more minutes of failed orgasm attempts Annie had begun to get tired. She let out a frustrated moan into her pacifier before deciding that it would be better to give up for now. Annie instead tried to focus her attention on her laptop, where several colorful animals were singing a song about counting. The vibrations from both her plug and vibrator were nearly impossible to ignore though. The intense vibrations coming from the plug were too strong for her not to notice, while the vibrator was just stimulating enough to pleasure her. After several agonizing minutes had passed Annie began feeling a pressure in her bladder. All the water she had drunk was beginning to work through her body. That left her with a decision to make. Should she hold it as long as possible and force herself to have an accident? Or should she release it instantly like a baby who isn't potty trained? Annie opted to forgo her potty training and instantly begin flooding her diaper. Her reasoning was that only big girls are potty trained and wearing a diaper, sucking on a pacifier, and sitting in a highchair wasn't a big girl. She was going to use her diaper like the little girl she was. Besides, sitting in a warm, wet diaper would make this situation even better. Annie moaned as she released her bladder and felt her pee begin to rush out. Her stream hit her vibrator and fell down it, absorbing into the bottom of her diaper. The padding around her butt grew warm as it absorbed all of the liquid. Annie could barely notice it though, as the vibrations from her butt plug were too distracting. Several seconds later she finished and could feel the difference in her diaper's padding. Over the next half an hour Annie alternated between trying to focus on the cartoons, attempting to pleasure herself, and releasing more spurts of piss into her diaper. She had no way of knowing how long she'd been stuck there. The timer lock securing her right wrist to the highchair was set to not display the remaining time. That, of course, was intentional on her part. Knowing how long was left would take the fun out of it. Several minutes later Annie was attempting to pleasure herself again. This time though, she managed to twitch just right and an intense wave of pleasure was sent through her body. Annie bit down on her pacifier and shuddered as this happened. She instantly got to work on trying to recreate what she just did. The straps from the highchair did a good job of keeping her stationary, meaning she needed to work hard. Twitching her hips around enough she eventually managed to find an angle that allowed her to grind the vibrator on her clit. It took nearly no time at all for Annie to reach her first orgasm. She screamed and bit down on her pacifier as the waves of intense pleasure surged throughout her body. For several minutes all Annie could do was let out heavy breathes, flood her diaper even further, and enjoy the stimulation as she recovered. Once she finally recovered enough she started working to attain a second orgasm. The second time was a bit harder than the first. Annie felt a bit silly as she tried twitching her hips enough to get some pleasure. Her previous orgasm had been easy, but this one would need to be worked for. Fantasies raced through her mind as she repeatedly ground herself on the vibrator. She imagined being forced to do this as punishment. She fantasized about being caught masturbating in her diaper and as punishment she'd be locked up in this highchair until she could orgasm so many times. After a couple of minutes Annie succeeded in getting her second orgasm of the day. This one took even more time to recover from. During that time she did little other than sucking on her pacifier and releasing even more urine into her soggy diaper. She stared at the screen in front of her playing toddler cartoons, but didn't put any effort into registering what was actually happening. Minutes later and Annie had recovered enough to begin thinking clearly. She decided that she was done trying to orgasm for the rest of her time in the highchair. Those two had taken a lot of energy out of her and she was beginning to get thirsty. With no access to water for who knows how long, she decided it was better to be safe. While waiting out the rest of the timer lock, Annie got to thinking. After she was let out of the highchair she would still have plenty of time before the family came back home. Why waste this rare occasion and stop so early? She wasn't intending on being able to orgasm as well. She was supposed to be denied orgasms and teased instead. Maybe she needed a little bit of punishment as well? Annie got to brainstorming on what else she could do today. The two orgasms had taken a lot of energy out of her, so she'd probably need a nap at some point. That thought gave Annie another great idea. She could use her same restraints to lock herself in the crib. She could be diapered up and put down for a forced nap. How long would be appropriate though? After some contemplation Annie decided on another two hours. What about her punishment though? A forced nap-time could be a punishment, but it was a bit boring. Annie initially considered a spanking. She fantasized about them all the time and having a sore bottom while confined in a crib would make it feel more like a punishment. Unfortunately she would have to administer it herself though, which would take the fun out of it. She wouldn't be able to spank herself as hard or as much as she deserved. Annie resolved to look into how much a spanking machine would run her later today. After brainstorming a bit harder Annie decided on washing her mouth out with a bar of soap. She'd fantasized about it before too, but never acted on it. She'd read about it in smut-fics several times and watched ABDL porn videos of it, but never really considered doing it herself. Today would be the day though. Her naughty mouth would be thoroughly cleaned out. She even planned on putting herself in timeout afterwards, forced to hold the bar of soap in her mouth the entire time. Thinking about her future plans began getting Annie excited again. She was tempted to start working towards a third orgasm, but was able to stop herself. She had already came twice without permission. If she did so a third time she would need to make her punishment worse and as it stood, a mouth soaping followed by a timeout was already going to be bad. Even if she'd never experienced a mouth soaping, she'd never heard it described as pleasant. Annie spurted more pee into her diaper as she tried to take her mind off of the rest of her plans. If she lingered on them any longer she would have a hard time resisting the urge to cum again. She was glad that she had decided to turn on the cartoons before getting in the chair. They were probably the only thing that she could attempt to distract herself with. The vibrating butt plug and perverted thoughts continued making that difficult though. An unknown amount of time later, Annie heard the timer lock begin to beep, signaling that her two hours of highchair confinement was over. The lock automatically clicked open, allowing her to wiggle the chain it was securing loose. Once her right hand was free she was able to grab the keys on the tray in front of her and unlock her other arm. With both arms free she was able to remove the highchair tray and set it aside. Now that the tray was out of the way Annie could finally look at the state of her diaper. Unsurprisingly, it was soaked. The saturated padding bulged around the highchair's tight restraints. Nearly all of the water she had drank before confining herself had worked its way through her and into the diaper. This was a very high capacity diaper though, and Annie wasn't exactly a big girl. It could still hold plenty more urine from her. Once she was finished poking and prodding her diaper, Annie unsecured the highchair's restraints, allowing herself to bend over and also free her ankles. Now that she was free from her restraints she was able to stand up and stretch her limbs. First, though, she needed to turn off the vibrators. Annie snaked her hand into her diaper, feeling the back of it rub against the warm, wet, pee soaked padding as she held the power button on her vibrator. She then removed her hand, only to immediately send it back down the back of her diaper to shut off her vibrating butt plug. While powering it down she noticed that the back of her diaper was still mostly dry. Unexpectedly, Annie's stomach gurgled as she stretched out her arms. It was usually around this time of day that she would eat lunch, so it wasn't too surprising to her that she was hungry. That's when Annie had another naughty idea. The family had plenty of jars of baby food in their cupboards. She'd never been brave enough to try any of it before, worried that the family would notice it missing. At the moment Annie was too excited to care though, once the idea popped into her head she knew she had to do it. Annie waddled over to the cupboard and began looking through her options. There were several dozens of jars available to her, plenty enough to convince her that no one would notice a few of them missing. Annie decided that she wouldn't be allowed to choose what flavors she got and pulled out three random jars. Looking at the labels, she saw that she had grabbed carrots, turkey, and peas. Part of her was wishing she had gotten some fruit flavors, as they were bound to taste better than the vegetable and meat flavors. Another part of her was excited to get gross flavors. It was like an additional punishment. Annie then went to the silverware drawer and grabbed a small, green plastic spoon. The same ones that the actual baby was fed with. Annie placed her lunch on the highchair tray, before waddling back over to her room to retrieve a couple of her adult sized baby bottles. She had contemplated using an actual baby bottle, but figured that the adult sized ones would be more appropriate. More liquid meant more pee in her diaper. Before heading back to the kitchen Annie took a moment to remove her nipple clamps and vibrator. She wasn't going to be needing it for the rest of the day. Her butt plug was to stay in though, to help ensure that there would be no messy diapers. If the urge to mess were to hit her while she was unplugged she didn't know if she could resist it. When she returned to the kitchen she filled one of her bottles up with water and the other with apple juice. When both were full she placed them on the highchair tray and took a seat. Annie opted not to lock her ankles back to the highchair, as it seemed too tedious. She did, however, secure herself in using the highchair's built-in straps. She relished the feeling of pleasure as the crotch strap forced her wet diaper against her privates. Now secured to the highchair once again, Annie picked up the tray and placed it back on the chair. She fumbled with the keys behind her head for a moment while she tried to find the correct one for the lock keeping her pacifier gag in place. After a minute she was finally able to remove the pacifier that she had been forced to suck on for hours. She sat the gag down on the highchair tray and began unscrewing the baby food lids. Annie began to regret her decision when the smell of her lunch hit her. The mush in the jars smelled just as unappetizing as it looked. For a moment she contemplated drinking the bottles and just putting the baby food back in the cupboard. At the same time though, the food being unappealing made it even more exciting. Babies didn't get to decide what they are fed, and right now Annie was nothing more than a naughty little baby. Annie picked up the little green spoon and plunged it into the jar of pea flavored mush. The spoon was meant for feeding an actual baby, so it didn't scoop up much. She really wished that someone was here to force-feed her right now. Someone who would strap her into the highchair and lock away all of her limbs. Someone who wouldn't give her a choice about eating jar after jar of baby food. If she didn't cooperate they'd hold her nose closed until she was forced to open her mouth, at which point they would shove the spoon inside and keep it there until she swallowed. Annie's privates began to tingle as she held the spoonful of baby food up to her mouth. She took a deep breath before opening her mouth and moving the spoon inside. When Annie closed her mouth she could instantly taste the peas. The mush slid off of the spoon as she pulled it out of her mouth. The texture was just as bad as she was expecting, and the taste was awful as well! Begrudgingly, Annie swallowed and began scooping up some more. The aftertaste lingered in Annie's mouth after swallowing. It was just as bad as when it was actually in her mouth. She desperately wanted to grab one of the bottles and wash away the taste, but she had resolved to finish all of the baby food first as an extra punishment to herself. Naughty babies have to suffer through their yucky lunch. Annie lifted the second spoonful up to her mouth. After a moment of hesitation she moved it inside and swallowed it as quickly as she could. She repeated this process a few more times until the first jar was empty. Her goal was to eat fast enough to be able to ignore how bad the taste and texture were. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't working too well. Next up for Annie was the jar of carrots. She unscrewed the lid and plunged the spoon in, scooping out a big glob of the orange mush. Annie brought the spoon up and placed it into her mouth. The gross taste of carrots clashed with the pea flavored mush that was still on the spoon, making it taste even worse. Annie continued shoveling the gross baby food into her mouth and forcing herself to swallow it. When she finally finished the jar of carrots she sat it aside and opened the turkey flavored. It was the last one she had to eat, but it was the one she was dreading the most. Reluctantly, she put her spoon in the jar and scooped up a spoonful of the brown paste. Disgust and regret filled Annie as she closed her mouth around the spoon. The previous two flavors were nothing compared to the turkey. Her first instinct was to spit it out, but she managed to refrain from doing so. Her punishment was to eat all the baby food, and that's what she was going to have to do. She was having trouble forcing herself to swallow it though. Annie had to imagine herself being forced to eat it by someone else. Closing her eyes, she imagined some faceless woman around her age that had been hired to babysit her. She pictured herself in the highchair as she was now, with her babysitter holding the spoon in her mouth. The babysitter refused to remove the spoon until Annie swallowed the mush. Eventually, Annie was able to swallow her first spoonful of turkey flavored mush. She nearly gagged as she felt it slide down her throat. It took her a minute before she was able to scoop up another spoonful. Her eyes began to water as she slowly brought the spoon up to her mouth. After putting it in her mouth she had to once again force herself to swallow it. Tears were beginning to fall down her face when she got to the third spoonful. At this point Annie was getting desperate to get the taste out of her mouth. The only way to do that was too finish all of the baby food though. With this in mind she forced herself to pick up the pace and quickly shoved the spoon into her mouth. This time she was able to swallow faster than before. After finishing the last spoonful of turkey flavored baby food she picked up the baby bottle full of apple juice and began drinking as fast as she could. Annie did everything she could to wash away the taste out of her mouth. She finished her bottle of juice way faster than she expected and began working on the second bottle full of water. The second bottle was thankfully enough to clear her mouth of the taste. Now that she had finished her lunch, Annie released the highchair tray and restraints. Free once again, she placed the spoon and baby bottles in the sink, deciding to wash them after her nap. She would dispose of the baby food jars discretely later, along with her diaper. Annie hurriedly began removing her restraints from the highchair and brought them to the nursery for later. She just sat them down on the crib before heading back to her room to strip out of her clothes. She didn't want to risk getting them dirty during her timeout. She hastily removed her socks, shirt, and bib, ungraciously throwing them on ground and leaving her wearing only her wet diaper and collar. Now dressed properly, she grabbed her phone and waddled to the bathroom to begin her punishment. She setup a timer on her phone for five minutes, two and a half for each orgasm. With that ready, she looked over at the fresh bar of soap in the dish next to the sink. Hesitantly, she picked it up and inspected it. The bar had probably only been used once or twice, so it was pretty decently sized. Annie's became more nervous as she turned on the tap and held the soap bar under it. After several seconds, she figured that it was lathered up enough. With a big gulp, she turned the faucet off and raised the wet bar up to her mouth. With lots of trepidation, she opened her mouth wide and slid the bar of soap inside. A bitter, acrid taste filled her mouth as her tongue made contact with it. Steeling her resolve, Annie began rubbing the bar of soap against her tongue and cheeks, cringing while doing so. Gross suds began to fill her mouth and chunks of soap peeled off as the bar scraped against her teeth. The taste made it hard for Annie to continue carrying out her self-punishment. After about half a minute of washing her mouth out, she was convinced that her whole mouth had been thoroughly coated. Now that her mouth was clean, Annie decided it was time for part two of her punishment. Annie held the bar of soap still in her mouth and slowly began biting into it. She cringed once again and her body shook as her teeth penetrated the soft outer layer of the soap. Once it was firmly held in place, she started the timer on her phone and waddled to the corner of the bathroom. There, she planted her nose in the corner and interlocked her hands behind her head, assuming the position that she resolved to stay in until the alarm on her phone sounded. It didn't take long for Annie to begin regretting her choice of punishment. Punishments weren't supposed to be enjoyable, but the taste of the soap in her mouth was incredibly unpleasant. The gross film that coated her tongue and cheeks made the taste inescapable. Before long, her sudsy saliva began to leak out of her mouth and drool down her chin and chest, adding another uncomfortable element to the experience. With her face stuck in the corner, there was little else she could focus on but the soap or the plug in her ass. Annie continually let small spurts of pee escape into her already wet diaper as she waited out the timer. She tried her hardest to ignore the taste and feel of the soap the best way she knew how, by imagining herself in erotic fantasies. She pictured herself getting her mouth forcibly washed out by the father of the family she was staying with because she swore in front of his daughters. After washing her mouth out, she'd be forced to bite down on it and hold it while he spanked her over his knees. Finally, she'd be sent to timeout in the corner, her red bottom on display and the bar of soap still stuck in her mouth. Annie's privates began tingling as her drool continued running down her face. She wished she could see herself right now, hoping that she looked as embarrassing as she felt. Imagining herself in humiliating situations was helping make the time go by faster, but it was impossible to tell by how much. Not knowing how much longer she had to stay in the corner made it more arousing for her. She wish that instead of a timer, she had someone watching over her to decide when she'd learned her lesson and could leave the corner. Finally, after her chin and chest had been covered in soapy drool, Annie's phone started alarming, signaling that timeout was now over. Annie turned around and quickly ran to the sink. She spit out the the bar of soap and let it fall into the sink. No matter how much of her drool she spit out, the taste of soap would not go away. Rinsing her mouth out with water was hardly helping either. The disgusting film remained coated on her teeth and cheeks and wasn't going away. After finally making progress on rinsing her mouth out, Annie took a moment to examine the bar of soap. Large teeth imprints were clearly visible in it, showing undeniable evidence of where it had been previously. Annie mentally noted that she would need to replace it later as she began cleaning the dried and still wet drool off her chest. Once clean, Annie left the bathroom and headed back to her bedroom. She would deal with the soap later when she was cleaning up. In her room, she opened her chest and pulled out her full body onesie. The patterns on it were the same as the ones on her diaper. Pink ponies and princesses covered the soft white material all over, making it look like it was designed for a very young girl if it wasn't sized for an adult. The only other thing setting it apart from real children's wear was the zipper in the back, which was specially designed to allow a small padlock to slip through and keep it from being unzipped. Annie stepped into her pajamas and felt her feet make contact with the thicker material of the booties that were attached to it. She then slipped her arms through the sleeves and located the zipper on the back. It was a bit of a struggled to locate the zipper in the back, but once she found it she was able to zip herself up, covering her sagging diaper. Finally, she slipped the tiny padlock through the zipper and the rings attached to the back, with a satisfying 'click', she was now trapped in her pajamas. On her way to the nursery she made sure to close the door to her room, just in case. It's not like that would do much good though, with all of the other evidence of her activities she had left laying around the home. It gave her peace of mind though, which was good enough for now. As she entered the nursery, she retrieved her pacifier gag and placed it back into her mouth. Soon, a padlock just like the one securing her pajamas was attached to it, and Annie had no choice but to nurse on the rubber object. Now that she was dressed, it was time get in the crib for nap time. Shivers of anticipation ran through Annie as she lowered the side of the crib and climbed in. Inside, she sat up on her knees and raised the side back up. Once done with that, she rearranged herself so that was laying on her back with her legs bent up and spread apart. Now that she confirmed once again that she fit, she sat up and began attaching the first restraint to the bar of the crib. Once done, she cuffed her left ankle to it and locked it in place. Annie tugged at the restraint to confirm that it was secured. Satisfied that she would not be escaping, she repeated the same steps with her right ankle before moving on to her wrists. She readied both cuffs before securing her left wrist to the bars above her head. Using her free right hand, she placed the ring of keys above her head on a protrusion at the top of the headboard. There, she could reach them to free herself once time was up. From there she'd also be able to see them if she looked up, allowing them to mock her bondage, showing how freedom was so close but still unobtainable. After checking to make sure the timer lock was set for two hours, Annie took a deep breath and clicked it shut. She sighed around her pacifier as it set in that she was now trapped in this crib for the next two hours. It didn't matter how much she begged or cried, she had no choice but to stay in this crib and her wet diaper. Remembering her diaper, Annie let a stream of piss loose and felt it run down her butt cheeks, soaking into the relatively dry padding in the back. Excitement from her own helplessness flowed through Annie's body. She wished that there was a mirror on the ceiling so that she could see how pathetic she looked with her pacifier and infantile jammies, unable to escape the binds of her crib. Annie could feel her pussy getting wet again as she pictured herself from a third person perspective, writhing around helplessly in the crib, trying to avoid wetting her diaper. Unfortunately for her, there was no way to stimulate herself now. The realization that she completely unable to pleasure herself now only made her more excited. A minute or so later, Annie remembered the reason she was bound in the crib. She was supposed to be napping like a good girl. Trying to sleep while being horny was impossible though, and it made it even harder for her to avoid thinking naughty thoughts. She tried thinking of her school work she needed to work on still, as well as other mundane tasks. Horny thoughts would still occasionally break through, especially when she let more pee out, but Annie was progressively getting better at quickly discarding them. After a while she let out a small yawn. Her arousal had almost completely gone away and the exhaustion from the morning was catching up with her. She had a bit of trouble getting comfortable, as she usually slept on her side, which her current bindings made impossible. The thick padding of her soaked diaper between her legs and under her butt was also distracting. Despite all the roadblocks, she was eventually able to drift into a light sleep. ----- When Annie awoke sometime later, the first thing she noticed was the feeling of soggy, cooled diaper. There was no clock in the nursery, so she had no clue how long she had been out for. The timer lock didn't say how long it had left either, meaning Annie had no clue how much longer she was stuck like this. At least in the highchair she could estimate how long she had been there, but here she was truly clueless. Without much thought, Annie started peeing again. Her bladder had built up a bit since she fell asleep, so she was able to maintain a good stream for a few seconds. Her soaked diaper, still not at full capacity, happily absorbed the hot liquid. Annie was glad to feel the cool padding warm back up and grow even soggier under her. Annie figured that she probably wouldn't be able to fall back asleep now that the feeling of wetting her diaper had gotten her a bit excited. If she wasn't trying to sleep then there wasn't much else to do except think, which of course led to progressively more arousing thoughts. Not knowing how much longer her bondage would last was at the front of her mind, which was turning her on even more. She tried to imagine that someone was keeping her like this, and that she would only be released when they decided to. Fantasies and made up scenarios began to run through Annie's mind. She imagined this nursery being her room, and that this was how she was put to bed every night. She'd be put to bed early every night, before the sun even went down most days. If she was naughty then she'd be teased and edged beforehand, forced to spend her night frustrated and unable to resolve it. She'd wake up in the morning still frustrated and with a very wet diaper, much like she was now. Her thoughts drifted again, with her still in this same situation. She'd been put down in her crib for a nap after her college classes. A babysitter would have been sent to pick her up after her classes. The babysitter would have checked her diaper right in the hallway outside her classroom, changing her in the bathroom there if needed. As soon as she was home, Annie would be changed out of her big girl clothes and into her jammies for nap-time. Like now, she'd be strapped down to ensure she didn't go anywhere. Annie was now thoroughly horny and frustrated at her inability to pleasure herself. This was exactly what she had wanted earlier in the highchair. No matter how much she wiggled or struggled against her binds, her needy pussy was completely inaccessible to her. All she could do is wait for external factors to decide that she could pleasure herself. Her frustration only got worse as her fantasies became more perverse. She desperately wished that she could rub herself through her diaper or at the very least grind it against something. Until the timer ran out though, she'd be forced to remain like this; writhing in horny frustration, unable to get any stimulation. Being horny made it even harder for Annie to judge the passage of time, but her heart started beating hard with excitement when she heard the beeping of the timer lock. She instantly began working the lock loose and quickly had her right arm free. She didn't even both trying to remove any of her other restraints. Instead, she brought her hand down to her crotch and began rubbing herself through her pajamas and wet diaper. She wanted to snake her hand down into her diaper and go to town on herself, but with her pajamas locked onto her that wasn't currently possible. The feeling of her wet diaper rubbing against her lively crotch was more than an enough pleasure for her pent-up self. In under a minute of rubbing and hip thrusting, Annie was able to bring herself to a mind shattering orgasm. She wasn't able to stop there though. After a few seconds of riding out her orgasm and catching her breath, she got back to work. Three minutes later she found herself in the same situation, riding off the high of her second orgasm. Annie went limp in the crib as her thoughts raced. She mindlessly sucked on her pacifier and let urine flow into her soaked diaper as she came down from her high. After taking a few minutes to recover, Annie decided that she should probably free herself and clean up. Using the keys, she released her other arm and ankles from their binds. Now unbound, she climbed out of the crib and stretched her stiff limbs. She decided to leave her pajamas, collar, and pacifier locked on for the time being as she cleaned up her other messes. She fantasized that she was doing her assigned chores. When it was finally time to get undressed, Annie spent a lot of time in front of the mirror, staring at her sagging, discolored diaper. With a giggle around her pacifier, she reflected on how much fun today had been. She knew that she was definitely going to have to do this again when she had a chance. Even if the family was only going to be gone for a short amount of time, she would work around that to have more self-bondage fun in the highchair and crib.

I trust Harley! Can’t wait to see what happens when Paul wakes up!

My favorite cookies @DailyDi are peanut butter cookies and chocolate chip cookies.

Chapter 8: Arguably Inappropriate Claire Grimmer read Kade Prescott’s essay over 5 times, trying to find something to mark and only finding maybe one or two typos. Not only was it well-written and arguably the best paper from this round of submissions, but it was a paper written on something that was a fetish community and potentially skating the line of inappropriate in context. In her head, the only rationale she could justify this paper as inappropriate content and needed to discuss with Mr. Prescott. Was it biased of her? Yes, it was. Yet, a part of her wanted to speak to him, to see what his argument could be. Although her skin crawled from the idea of confronting him, she had to in order to tell him this was not content that any student in professional writing courses, especially in rhetoric setting, should be writing of. Her brain went back and forth on the audience, persuasion and context of the author of a community he quoted which was considered a subculture in some context but… she wouldn’t allow a pornographic study per her syllabus and this was similar, right? She closed her eyes at her counter, pressing her hand on her forehead by the headache she had on this because she knew it wasn’t pornographic, nowhere even close and this is where she acknowledged she was entangled in an emotional perspective rather than a professional one she should have. How could she tell Mr. Prescott that this was inappropriate without providing a valid debate? The way he wrote about the power dynamics was impeccable and, admittedly, understood thoroughly. His analysis was endearing and made her heart swell in a way she was not expecting that felt immediately inappropriate for her to even consider any feelings towards a professional paper. That realization made her realize that she was having her own inappropriate thoughts. Was it Claire or was it Mr. Prescott? Her brain was in chaos as she thought more and more about it. It was as if he was at a level of understanding of why people who classified themselves as adult babies seek comfort, an escape from responsibilities and experiencing nostalgia through garments and infantile devices. The way he explained the role of caregivers in the dynamic made her gasp at the level of comprehension and made a warmth travel up her chest. He intertwined the embodiment of dominance, the control measures and nurturing that made a caregiver of an adult baby feel fulfilled respectively. That’s where he analyzed The Control Protocol and spoke about the roles of a caregiver and their adult baby, going into detail of what is the persuasion to the audience of mutual respect, consenting adults and deep intimacy through a dynamic most would not understand. She reread the paragraph again, in such a newfound respect for her student who had seemed to be another arrogant student who had a lack of care for her course and just wanted an easy route to a scholarship: "The emotional resonance of The Control Protocol lies in its use of pathos. DaddyDom24 articulates the fulfillment caregivers derive from providing structure, reassurance, and consistency, mirroring the satisfaction adult babies experience through release and trust. By centering mutual respect and explicit consent, the text persuades readers that intimacy within ABDL dynamics is not accidental or exploitative, but intentionally cultivated. The warmth and clarity with which these roles are described function rhetorically to humanize a dynamic most outside the community may not intuitively understand.” She was deeply involved in the community and knew the layers of depth that transcended through age play and roleplay. It wasn’t what most people’s first assumptions were, and she felt that confronting him would put her in the same category of the people she’d personally despised for uneducated opinions of her lifestyle choices outside of her professional life. Claire tossed and turned in her bed that night in figuring out what to do with this situation. Part of her could grade it and ignore the context, then she wouldn’t have to embarrass herself by flushing at any mention of diapers or adult babies to feel paranoid he’d know something about her own personal life. Yet, the other part wanted to investigate further and discuss the, arguably, inappropriate context to see what lead him to choose this subculture, of all communities, to write a paper on. It took until 3AM that her brained calmed enough to fall asleep. She woke up to her alarm at 6:30AM, groaning at her interruption of deep sleep. She snoozed her alarm in attempt to sleep a little more, waking a bit later from accidental over snoozing the alarm in a half-asleep state. She checked the time and groaned, getting up and rushing to put her hair in another messy bun for the week, not even bothering with taking a shower and knowing she’d be marginally late. She shrugged on her light grey heathered cardigan and grabbed her coffee, leaving the home in a rush with her bags. Although last night she spent a good chunk of her time debating Mr. Prescott’s paper and what to do with it, she had finished giving notes and scores for the papers. She drove to campus, cursing under her breath at the time being 7:30AM and her class usually began then. She always was 10 minutes on the dot early everyday so coming to her classroom late was unacceptable to her. Claire walked briskly to her building and through the English building’s halls, going to the Thorne hall lower level entrance. She walked in, nodding to the students who were talking casually and quieting as she walked in. “My apologies for my tardiness. We’ll get started in the next few moments here.” Her face was flushed red and she felt her armpits sweating from her rushing in the morning. She took off her cardigan and connected her laptop, not daring a look up as her thoughts that she couldn’t stop last night made her feel suddenly self-conscious in lecture. Her eyes scanned the room for attendance as she checked people off. Her eyes barely looked at Mr. Prescott in his usual back corner, his eyes fixated on her with an intense gaze she felt as if she was making up in her head. “Corey Miller?” She asked, noting that one of her usual students weren’t there. “He’s sick, Professor Grimmer. Has the flu I think. A few people got it the past few days from some party.” Claire nodded, checking his absence as excusable but needs a campus medical clearance letter, “Thank you.” She said, tucking a thicker lock of hair that escaped her bun behind her ear. Claire set her graded papers aside in her neat stack, deciding to hand them out at the end of the lecture instead of the beginning since one she hadn’t had enough time to decide how to handle it. She took a moment to drink a few sips on her coffee before starting her lecture, “Okay, thanks for everyone’s patience. We’ll get started and then I’ll pass out your subculture analysis paper grades at the end of class.” She heard some murmurs in the class and sighs of annoyance. Typically, she handed out grades first because she knew most students were anxious to know, just like she once was. However, there was one particular paper she didn’t know how to handle today and would need to push it off for later. During a few breaks for questions that she had admittedly looked at Mr. Prescott in the top row corner who looked nonchalant and his regular self in her class. Her mind got distracted once or twice as her gaze went to his back right corner as if expecting any sign of a different attitude or sign of shifts in his usual character. The fact that he stared, bored looking, as normal with his classic tussled brown, almost black hair and uninterested look to her presentation made her believe that maybe she really overthought his paper being inappropriate. It was easy for her to overthink things, it was she was best at, after all. Perhaps, she was the one who was being inappropriate with this situation and that thought made her pause during her lecture. She made the pause look like a water break, as she took a sip from her clear bottle with a turquoise cap and continued. After a longwinded lecture, the sleep deprivation and her racing thoughts causing her to have a less confident tone and feeling off, she took another water break to steady her scrambled brain. “I’ll hand out everyone’s papers and you are dismissed after you receive yours. If you’d like to discuss anything, I have a faculty meeting following this and won’t be available until my office hours.” She said, flipping through her graded papers to Mr. Prescott’s and placing it at the bottom, still thinking through what to say to him. Claire passed out the papers in her usual fashion, “Wonderful work, Patel. Keep your improvements up and you may just earn yourself a plaque in our hall on one of these.” Jasmine beamed a grin and nodded, “Thanks, Professor Grimmer!” She packed her items and walked out as Claire delivered the other 31 graded papers. Luckily, David Mcdermmot was at the second row to the left of the hall that she could take a steadying breath before approaching Mr. Prescott who was already gathering his belongings, zipping up his backpack and standing casually at the end of the row in the back right. He walked towards where she stood in the middle aisle as she waited, her pulse quickening although she reminded herself this was professional obligation, no emotions necessary. “Mr. Prescott, I would like to discuss your paper during my office hours, I blocked off my 6PM hour.” She offered the paper to him. Kade blinked down to the paper, taking it with a corner of his mouth rising at the surprising lack of her red ink, “Can I ask for what reason, Professor?” His eyes flicked to her in an amused look that she almost thought she'd imagined. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as he caught her uncomfortable look that quickly was replaced with her professional, steady and emotionless expression. She could only hope he didn't see it, yet his eyes were quietly studying her with a thoughtful expression placed on his face. It was a stark contrast from his typical glares, annoyance painted on his face and uninterested looks he gave her. She pursed her lips in a pause at the thoughts swarming too early for her tired brain before saying, “It’s borderline inappropriate but one of the best papers you’ve written. I’ve not decided if it deserves a score or a rewrite.” Claire patted herself on the back for that, feeling like somehow, even as her brain seemingly blacked out for one moment, she was still able to articulate a confident response back. Kade gave a handsome smile, one with a wicked intention shadowed by his darkened eyes before his full lips rested back together, nodding, “I understand. I look forward to our discussion about it, Professor Grimmer.” Her heart fluttered by his sudden changed charisma, shifting from a student to someone who commanded a room by his expression and tone. It made her mind race more as she turned before her internal feelings betrayed her facial expressions. The day seemed to tick by slowly as she went to two faculty meetings between her classes and one where Dr. Chen announced her retirement. Lunch was a lot of chatter about the English department of who would fill her roles at the school and takeover her director role. Lila nudged Claire at lunch, “Who do you think would take it over? I’m curious about your opinion, since you are so close to the dean and your colleagues there.” Claire shrugged, looking down to hide her smile when remembering Dean Jones idea of her taking it over, “I’m not sure, but I know the department will be a mess to clean up next year. We’ll probably need a intern hire-in and we already have a few, let’s just say, unethical and not experienced enough professors who were hired in. The only experience one of 20+ year is Frockler and he’s, well, not a great candidate lets just say.” Lila laughed, “Yes, I’m in the group that thinks he could be in a divorce or something. He’s been emotionally all over the place.” Claire laughed in agreement. After they calmed down, Lila nodded to Claire, “Do you think you’d be considered?” Claire shrugged again, “I’d apply but it’s up in the air on what would happen. My reputation as the Red Pen Tyrant professor is either a great reputation to lead the English Department or loss merit points.” Lila snickered at the nickname, raising her eyebrows to her friend, “Trust me, that’s not your only name. My favorite had been the Literary Dictator. My math students are grateful to have had Dr. Chen.” Lila looked at her friend for a longer moment, nudging her with her elbow, “Maybe you should consider laying off the strictness a bit though. You already have your respect by everyone in the faculty, I don’t think there’s much further to prove.” Claire looked up to Lila’s dark brown eyes and frowned, “That’s take the fun out of my job though.” She cracked a mischievous smile that only made Lila cackle in their breakroom. “In all seriousness, these students need motivation and pressure to become their best selves. That doesn’t happen by easy or handed to them.” Lila nodded, “Sure, I guess I could understand that. Just don’t be mad if it ever backfires on you.” She said in a serious tone, “I know you respected Professor Walsh and he was equally as strict with you, but the man had no life outside of academia and no friends. It was a lonely life and he was unhappy. Maybe follow in his ethics, standards and morales and less on the ego or proving your point.” Claire slouched in her chair, crossing her arms and listening to what she was saying but not accepting it fully, “You could be right, but my analytical background sees a lot of grey area in that statement.” She gave a smile to Lila and gathered her trash, going back to her office, “Thanks for the advice, perhaps I’ll take some of it.” Lila waved her off, “You do you, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three: New Bonds “Stop it,” Boja warned. “What?” Adam defensively replied, slapping his arms at his sides as he took a backward step towards the edge of the play mat. “I’m not doing anything!” “Just like you weren’t doing anything in the fort,” the tiger licked his lips and slapped his tail against the ground. “Correct,” the blonde pointed to him, turned, and took a step off the mat, peering down the aisle to where his mother had walked away about ten minutes ago. “Cub,” the tiger warned again, getting up to his feet, and Adam spun around, stomping both feet on the mat. “I’m not going anywhere!” he huffed as he crossed his arms. “You’re taking this job way too seriously.” “I take my responsibilities seriously,” he grumbled in reply as he circled the mat, stopping at the point Adam had previously stepped off the mat and sat. “As should you.” “And what would those be?” Adam snorted, rolling his eyes. “Hourly diaper reports?” When the tiger didn’t reply, he grinned, taking that for a victory. He spun around to look at his play mat area, where Little Boja was sitting diligently at the desk. He sucked on a canine tooth, his eyes flickering over to the much larger desk where he had been reading from the monitor not thirty minutes ago, before Joomi reached out to her “experts” on “maturosis”. With a potential diagnostic meeting pending, she had told him she wanted to get something and then vanished, leaving him bored with Mr. Assiduous. Taking in a breath, he looked over his shoulder and up at the tiger. “Where did she go?” he asked, both wondering out loud and hoping to get an answer. “Home.” Adam narrowed his eyes, and the tiger chuffed, bobbing his head up and down. The blonde groaned as he walked over to the diaper bag, “Of all times for you to develop a sense of humor.” “I’ve always had a sense of humor,” the tiger grumped, adding quietly, “She thinks I’m funny.” The blonde barely responded with a hum as he began circling the bag, looking for his water. “Wait… what do you call her?” Adam suddenly thought as he perked up at the comment, looking over at him as he grabbed the sippy cup from the outer pocket. The tiger tilted his head to the side, which the blonde took as not understanding. “You only ever say ‘she’ or ‘her’. If you had to refer to her to someone else, what would you say?” “Depends on who I’m talking to,” the tiger replied as he flicked his tail. “Okay, fine, fair,” the blonde sighed, scooting Little Boja over as he shared the seat at the desk. “But what do you call her in …like… your head?” Adam briefly looked down at the bottle, trying to figure out where the latch was to unscrew the top so he could drink from it like a normal cup. He got around halfway around the rim when he realized Boja had fallen silent, and his blue eyes gazed over at the unmoving tiger; he raised a blonde eyebrow. “Boja… What do you call her?” “That’s not your business.” “Ohhhh,” Adam gasped, jumping to his feet, suddenly very interested. “Well, now I have to know.” “It’s not your business,” the tiger repeated, turning his head to look down the aisle. “Do you call her Joomi?” Silence. “Ma-nim?” Silence. “Ma Joomi-nim?” Silence. Adam grinned. “Eomma?” “No,” Boja replied hastily, and Adam gasped, pointing to him. “Holy shit, you do! You call her Mommy!!” he cheered. “I do not,” the tiger growled, his tail flickering several times as his ears flattened. He quickly and quietly followed it up, “Emonim.” Adam took in a breath, his eyebrows raising high up as he quieted down. He had learned that word and heard it a few times at the reception. It was the adult version of eomma, so mother; the pair stared at each other for a beat. “That’s… really sweet,” the blonde smiled. “Shut up,” Boja grumbled. “No, I mean it,” Adam insisted as he put a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “It makes sense. She made you… she is your mother.” The tail flickering calmed down, now just sliding across the floor gently, and his ears slowly returned to their regular position. Adam blinked in thought, and his mouth gaped. “Does that mean… we’re brothers?” The tiger turned his massive head to stare at Adam straight on, and they stared at each other for a long moment. “Yes,” Boja finally replied as he nodded his head. “And I’m older.” “Bullshit!” Adam laughed immediately. “Not likely!” “Doesn’t matter,” the tiger lowered his head and bared his teeth, somehow managing to make it look like a smile rather than threatening. “I’m not the one in diapers.” “OOOHHHHKAY!” Adam burst out into a laugh as he dropped the bottle and ran at the tiger, who let out a playful growl as he collapsed onto his side and rolled slightly, letting the blonde collide into his stomach. He lifted a paw and put it on the back of Adam’s head, pinning him down, who flailed under the immense strength of the tiger. “Accept it, cub,” the tiger demanded. Adam flailed and yelled into the fur, smacking his fists against him pointlessly. He punched a few times before he sighed, slapping his arms against him and relaxing, nodding. The paw lifted, and the blonde gasped for fresh air, his face red from the exertion and laughing as he slid down to a seated position, leaning against Boja’s stomach. He let out a contented sigh after a few more chuckles escaped. “So… what do we call each other?” he asked, tilting his head up to look at him. “The older sibling typically calls the younger by their name,” Boja explained. “It is for the younger to respect the older and use titles. Therefore, you would call me Hyeong.” “Hee-yaw-ng,” Adam sounded out exaggeratedly. “But I prefer Boja,” the tiger added. Adam blinked in surprise, looking back up to him. “Really? Why?” “Because your Goryeoan is terrible.” Adam’s lips puckered as he stared at the tiger – then burst out laughing, and Boja chuffed, lifting his head proudly. Once his laughter died down, the blonde let out a contented sigh and put his hands behind his head, staring up and watching the little orbs fly back and forth. He tapped on his chest as a smile lingered on his face. He opened his mouth to ask Boja a question, but as he turned his head, he saw Joomi approaching, and eagerly he sat up. She giggled at the sight before her, putting a hand up to her mouth. “Am I interrupting naptime?” “No,” both he and Boja replied simultaneously, which only made her laugh more. Adam’s eyes moved to her other hand, which she put behind her back as soon as she noticed him looking. “What’s that?” he asked immediately, pointing to where he had seen a manila envelope. “Hmm?” she attempted to fake misunderstanding as she stopped in front of Boja. “In your hand, Eomma,” Adam snorted as he got to his feet. “Nothing,” she said as she showed him her empty hand, and Adam crossed his arms over his chest, causing a crack in her facade. Her shoulders quivered as she giggled again and brought out the envelope, presenting it to him with both her hands. He frowned curiously, stepping forward as there was something familiar about it. She had her thumb stuck in it so he could lift the cover, and he did, his eyes immediately flying open wide. “It… It’s mine!” he gasped, his hands lifting off of it, flanking his face for a moment. “These are my projects!” “Yes,” she purred, her shoulders lifting as she beamed. “Ka–uhhh, Grandpa didn’t throw it away?” he caught himself, flipping through some of the papers in awe. He had been certain this, alongside everything in his backpack, had been confiscated and tossed. Boja let out a tiny laugh at the correction. “No,” she warmly replied as she knelt, giving a slight tilt of her head as she playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he would have, if he had seen it. But Boja hid it before anyone searched the room.” “Thank you…” he whispered, his eyes briefly shooting over to Boja, who gave a small nod. “So,” she started as she handed him his folder, she placed her hands in her lap. “I thought we could go through them while we wait for responses to your testing. See what we can plan to work on. Or –” She looked up in thought, tapping on her lip, genuinely recalling something. “I suppose we could start on that earpiece…” “Yes!” Adam nearly jumped, his grip tightening on his project folder. It wasn’t until he had been in this lab that he had really come to understand how limited his resources had been back home, and how overly ambitious his plans had been. Though he was now in the presence of both the resources and expertise to achieve them, he didn’t want to jump into the deep end only to prove to himself and Joomi that he wasn’t ready. “These are – this is amazing and I … I’m really thankful you kept these… but they’re really ambitious and I… I think I’d like to start small.” “I suppose an earpiece for you is going to be very small,” she crooned as she rubbed her thumb on the outer edge of his right ear, and he flushed. “Well, I didn’t mean it like that, but… yeah,” he flustered. “It was a joke, agaya,” she winked, slipping her hands under his armpits and pulling him with her as she stood. Adam flashed a look down at Boja, starting to see how their senses of humor aligned. “I think that is a very sensible idea.” “Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, running his finger over the edge of the folder. He pressed his lips together, glanced to Boja, then up to Joomi, dropping his volume, “Did he tell you about… today?” “What about it?” she asked curiously, carrying him over to the desk. “Nothing…” he trailed off as he stared at the project folder; he had wondered if she knew today was the day he would originally fly home, and that’s why she was putting in so much effort. But he didn’t know how to ask that without sounding ungrateful. Or perhaps he just preferred to think she would have done this either way. Joomi set him down on the tabletop in front of her and reached her arms around him, her arms acting like a barrier to his flanks. She reached out to tap the massive glass wall that looked into a white lab. Adam set the folder down to block his view of the bulging diaper in his reflection, but as her finger collided with the glass, it sprang to life with colorful, transparent menus; his eyes widened. “Have you worked in bioengineering?” she asked gently, glancing down at him before selecting anything. “No,” he shook his head, leaning against her to look up. “Okay, we’re going to start with the band,” she explained as she tapped on a menu option, and the lit options vanished, making way for a semi-transparent empty square surrounded by icons and options at the outer edges. She then touched another button, and the language shifted to Albionic; he smiled. “What do you think should be the power source?” “I figured the quantum power would be…” he paused, sheepishly grinning. “I was going to say easiest, but easiest for you…” “That’s fair,” she smiled, brushing her hand over the top of his head. “What happens when you’re out of range of a power source?” His eyebrows furrowed as he considered the question; he hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t considered he would ever be too far from Boja again, which was a far more comforting idea than he had realized. He pulled in his lower lip in thought, feeling a little self-conscious at the time he was taking, so he shrugged, looking up at her. “Maybe a small battery?” he suggested, lifting a hand to his ear and gesturing behind it. “They have those for hearing aids.” “True,” she nodded, but it was clear from her tone that it was not the answer she was looking for. “But that would be visible and might be uncomfortable. And it would need charging.” “Right…” Adam mumbled as he looked down in thought. He could tell she knew the answer, and he was both glad she wanted him to figure it out and self-conscious to be struggling. All of his previous brainstorming sessions had been in private, without the oversight of someone watching and expecting an answer. It felt like school all over again, though with an admittedly much nicer teacher. He closed his eyes as he tried to ignore the world around him and picture himself alone, which was made difficult to maintain each time she stroked his hair. He thought back to his tooth problem. It was a similar conundrum. He had thought to put a small battery inside the tooth, but then it would have to be removable to recharge. He also hadn’t wanted to figure out how to signal to the wearer that it was low on battery, how to seal the port when in the mouth, etc. There had been too many ways it could have gone wrong. The current solution, introducing a low enough voltage to the mouth, was imperfect but workable, but that wouldn’t suffice for a device that needed consistent power to function. His face contorted as he tried to recall all of the power options he had researched when trying to solve the tooth issue. Then he grinned at himself. He was limiting his options to what he already knew and had access to before coming here. He never in a million years would have believed a fully functional and real-life seeming robot tiger was possible, yet here Boja was, blinking, breathing, and warm to the touch. He came here precisely because he knew his options were limited back home, as a measly Little with very little reputation and resources. But here in the futuristic lab of Ma Joomi, he could actually think about Star Trekking technology, and it might actually be feasible. In a flash, he felt like the room in his mind tripled in size, and an image of a scene from the show popped into his mind, where the character Doctor Mac Oi had used the energy generated by the brain of a comatose patient to power a device. “Can… can we use our own energy?” he asked as his eyes flew up and he looked up at her. “Like, uh, neural activity?” Joomi’s face beamed with pride. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and he blushed, grabbing at her arms to hug her back. “Very good,” she complimented, kissing his head, then reached out to tap on the glass. “It is called bio-electric harvesting. There are many different ways to do this, such as neural activity, yes. But I think heat may be our best option here.” With a few taps, the left side of the glass suddenly lit up with a massive set of equations, formulas, and code that scrolled at blinding speed, making it unreadable. Adam blinked as he tried to catch some of it, but as soon as it completed, the center of the glass rendered a generic male human body. She pinched and zoomed to the ear where she touched it, and selected a few more menu options. Another round of formula burst forth, and she tapped her bottom lip, then made another selection. Numbers began to populate next to the ear, and Adam recognized them as power output measurements, and he frowned. “That doesn’t seem like a lot,” he noted, and Joomi shook her head. “Agreed,” she hummed, her eyes glued to the screen as she nodded, considering the possibilities. “We’ll have to make adjustments and considerations. You will want the primary power source to be quantum – ideally, synced to Boja himself. So this would just be a backup, and we can run tests to see how long it would last on thermoelectricity alone.” Adam beamed while she spoke. She wasn’t talking down to him or explaining slowly like to a child. She was just… talking. Saying we. Including him in her plans, her thoughts. His brain buzzed with so much happiness that his wide smile was hurting his face. “Could a battery be small enough?” he wondered, letting his love of science fiction fuel his ideas. “So, if there’s a battery, the speaker can run on quantum power directly as a primary, then fall back to the battery, and the thermoelectric could be recharging the battery as it’s drained, right?” Joomi looked up in thought as she listened and nodded a few times. “Yes, there are small enough batteries,” she replied thoughtfully, reaching out to generate a new menu and start pulling up their options. “But we will want to balance the space carefully. We will need both the speaker and battery to be big enough, without overcrowding the band, as it will also need to be flexible so as not to be uncomfortable.” “No flexible batteries?” he puzzled as he looked at the list, then up at Joomi, who tilted her head to the side as she looked down at him, a slow grin coming across her lips. “Well done,” she praised softly, scrolling through the batteries and selecting the Kirigami option, which pulled up a blueprint of a battery stretched over a lattice pattern. “Rather than lumping a battery into a solid state, if you stretch it out over a complex, but flexible pattern, it can move with the band itself.” “Was… was that a test?!” Adam balked at her, and she raised a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her smile. “Does it help to know you passed?” she giggled, and Adam couldn’t help but smile, glad to hear that, though he crossed his arms in an attempt to be indignant. “It does,” he sarcastically groused. She gave him a quick peck on top of his head, then reached out, rotating the model of the lattice. He tilted his head to the side as he inspected the model, amazed that he was able to spitball ideas he thought were fantastical, and she already had plans for it. “Now, the actual band,” she pointed to the thin material of the band. “I think it should be a bio-polymer, using your own DNA as a baseline. That way, your body doesn’t start to attack it.” “Is that a risk?” he frowned in consideration. “Isn’t this still ‘outside’ of the body?” “Oh yes,” she nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Something like this will cause micro abrasions, which then the body will try to heal. If your cells detect a foreign object in that process, at minimum, they will grow extra skin as a barrier, and it will become very uncomfortable.” She ran her fingers over the top of his ear, giving his lobe a gentle squeeze. “Using your DNA causes a biomimicry state, where the cells will perceive it as another layer of your skin, instead of an external object.” “Wow,” he marveled at the explanation, which he felt was both complex and easy to digest, sort of like how their favorite show explained futuristic technology. He leaned back against her, staring starry-eyed at the rendered models before him, taking it all in. “Ooh!” Joomi exclaimed as she leaned to her right, tapping on the screen. “They’re available tomorrow!” “Who?” he asked mindlessly, his eyes and attention still glued to the lattice battery. “The maturosis experts,” she beamed, her left hand patting his hip. “I’ll get us scheduled.” “Mmm,” Adam hummed irritably, biting on the inside of his cheek as his eyes shot to the side. He was going to have to plan on how to handle that… but for now, he didn’t want to ruin the moment or his momentum. Once “the test” was scheduled, they took a break for lunch, diaper change, and thankfully, she allowed him to decline a nap, and they returned to the labs for the rest of the afternoon. He would never admit this to anyone… in fact, he would barely admit this to himself, but for the first time since a diaper was taped onto him, he was actually grateful for it. There was a huge advantage to being able to just work and not worry about bathroom breaks. He enjoyed the lack of interruption. By the day’s end, they had a fully working computer model and set up a list of tests to run overnight to test the various power circumstances. “Okay, dinnertime,” she announced as she pulled him into her arms. He pressed his lips together to avoid any complaints, which she caught and grinned, poking his nose in approval. As they rode the lift up, Adam beamed at the buzzing lab, and he leaned against his mother. “Thank you, Mommy,” he quietly gushed, pulling Little Boja close to his chest. “For what?” she inquired, though her squeezing him in a hug showed appreciation of the sentiment. “Today,” he smiled and looked up at her. “And being you.”

My new year's resolution is to stay in diapers for the entire 2026. No big boy's pants are allowed at any time. My true aim is to stay diapered 24/7 for the rest of my life. This resolution is basically to help me stay focused. I have a second resolution I am less sure about: messing. I don't feel I have been entirely true to my diaper wearing, since I rarely go #2 in them. But if I can find a solution to the BM smell, I would be so happy to never use the toilet ever again.

Here's my OCC recipe. No idea where my mom got it 1 cup butter/margarine (I always use butter) 1-1/4 cups firmly packed brown sugar 1-1/4 cups all purpose flour 2 eggs 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 1 tsp baking soda 1/2 tsp salt 1/2 tsp cinnamon 3 cups oats 1 cup chocolate chips Beat butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla. Add combined flour, salt, baking soda, and cinnamon. Mix well. Stir in oats, then add chocolate chips. Drop tablespoonfuls onto a greased cookie tray (I actually have a cookie dropper and just use non-stick pans - no greasing). Bake at 350 10 to 12 minutes or until light golden brown. I also have one of these fancy Kitchen Aid mixers. No more "armstrong" method of mixing. (this isn't my actual unit or kitchen - it's definitely too nice!)

Technically, we call it a "biscuit" (or "bikkie") down here. When in the USA I had a bit of a thing for Chips Ahoy (the "chunky" ones).

I too like Tollhouse cookies but I switch the sugar amounts the extra brown sugar makes the cookies softer. Sometimes I add mint extract to mine.

Seaking those who want a personal chat space for the seaverly continent My telegram is @therobocop looking to talk to all those with burning desire to descus our progrest or mental state and anything inbetween! Just no nay sayers

Good to see Sarah becoming more and more of a team player. As for Alex, like so many young men he now has to ask himself: what price sex?

Alice was a friend of my wife Jane and worked with my sister Cindy. She and her husband Arthur had just moved house when my wife took me round to meet them and I was introduced. Jane kept no secret that I was still in nappies but Alice just accepted me as I am and was soon making use of my handy man skills that I was happy to share. Alice and Arthur had 3 children, 2 boys 8 & 6 and a girl who was 4. All apparently bed wetters that Alice made no attempt to hide. In fact the daughter Bea was still in pull-ups during the day and a nappy for bed while the boys just got pull-ups for bed. All done very openly in an evening while we are sitting chatting and the kids are running up and down getting ready for bed. Jane had told Alice how I wear a normal baby nappy inside my Terry nappy and baby pants. This meant that I was able to do a quick change by pulling the baby nappy out and sliding a clean one back in. I was probably quite bulky like this but always wore a long T shirt to hide it. Alice even casually mentioned that there were clean nappies on the unit outside the bathroom if I wanted to change. Normal daggers from Jane when Alice mentioned this and Arthur just chuckling to himself but generally paying no attention. I did excuse myself to get changed and was pleased to find a pack of pampers size 6 exactly where Alice had mentioned. Wet nappy changed then balled up in a nappy sac, clean nappy on and back downstairs. A couple of weeks later and I was round on a weekday afternoon, claiming some time back from work. I had said that I would fit their TV on the wall and ended up having to first rewire a junction box in the extension. Alice was child minding for a 3 year old girl called Kayleigh who was fascinated watching me. I had been there a while and knew I needed to change when Alice came in. Sniffing the room she announced “ok which one of you two has filled their nappy?” Kayleigh now giggling and shy, Alice passed me a clean nappy, nappy sac and a pack of baby wipes. “I’ll do one, you do the other” as Kayleigh was lead away to the baby change. I took the opportunity to go upstairs and get changed too. I was really skinny at the time and the Pampers was long enough, it just would not quite reach round with the tapes. This meant that when I was bent over, the pampers would peek out the top of my trousers. Another couple of hours later and I’ve got the TV and speakers sorted, Kayleigh has been picked up and Alice has been out and picked up the kids coming home from school. We are out in the back garden and the kids are playing on the climbing frame. Bea is sticking to the baby side when Alice says “come on then Bea, let’s get that wet nappy off your bum” to which Bea started grumbling, “it’s ok honey, you can have another one” as Alice took Bea in to get changed. They emerged a few minutes later with Bea now having had her used pull-up changed for a pampers nappy that her school dress failed to hide. Alice then said to Bea “You ask him then” as Bea came over to me with a huge grin on her face “Gary, can you move my bed for me please, mommy can’t do it” “Come on then princess, let’s go and have a look”. Bea’s bed was a huge raised bed sitting a chest of drawers at each end. Bea wanted the bed moving against another wall for which there was enough space. I bent down and squeezed into the space in the middle of the drawers and was able to raise the bed on my back and move the bed. Bent double under the bed, I was aware that my T shirt had lifted and my trousers pulled down a bit. I even head Bea snigger as she realised what it is that she could see sticking out the top of my jeans at the back. I heard as Bea asked Alice “Has Gary got a nappy on his bum” “Yes just like you so hush” I climbed out from under the bed as they both said thanks and we went back downstairs and into the garden.

This chapter is so cute

Can't wait for the next chapter :P

Sally never forgot the birthday Erika didn’t get, the one she quietly cancelled when a plane crash rewrote everything. This chapter brings that unfinished moment full circle, not with apologies or speeches, but with intention, beauty, and a kind of love that shows up early and stays late. In Milan, over breakfast and blue satin and a view that refuses to be ordinary, Sally gives Erika something back she didn’t even realize she was still missing. It’s a chapter about making things right without saying the words, about celebration after fear, and about what it means to see someone fully and decide they matter enough to plan the impossible for them. Chapter 143 – Fifteen and a Half Morning arrived in Milan without urgency. No alarms. No schedules demanding obedience. Just light filtering around the edges of the curtains and the distant hum of a city that had already decided to be awake without her. Sally lay half-buried under the covers, phone in hand, drifting between sleep and consciousness in that soft, unguarded way that only happens when you feel safe. Her diaper was wet. Almost too wet, she realized. Her previous evening had required an extra dose of liquids, as assistance for the Italian quantities of food. And it had found its way into her diaper during the night. But her diaper held, and Sally was OK with that. Mom: Morning, darling. Love the view out your window. Looks glorious. Sally smiled, rolling onto her back and aiming the phone vaguely toward the pale glow behind the curtains. Sally: It really is. What are you up to? Mom: Heading to the lake with your dad. Then lunch somewhere warm. Then a long, unapologetic siesta. Sally: Getting any rest? There was a pause. Sally watched the three dots appear, disappear, then appear again. Mom: Yes. Don’t worry, honey. I’m feeling a lot better. Sally exhaled slowly, lips pressed together. Good. She let that settle. This year had taken so much out of everyone—herself most visibly, but her mother quietly, steadily. Watching someone you love almost lose a child does things to a body. To a soul. She pushed the covers aside and sat cross-legged on the bed, hair a soft mess, diaper warm and swollen under her pajamas, and Duomo light brushing the wall beside her. It was still too early to matter in the U.S. Katrina, Clara, Patricia—undoubtedly asleep. She snapped a quick photo of the view anyway. They’d wake up to it later and complain appropriately. Her phone buzzed again. Amélie. Amélie: Hello, Sally. I’m in Zurich. Want to meet for coffee or something? Sally blinked, eyebrows lifting at the timing. Sally: I would love to, but I’m in Milan. Back tomorrow. Amélie: Oh good. What time? Maybe I can pick you up at the airport and head downtown. Sally: Train, actually. Zurich HB might be easier. Amélie: That sounds very democratic. Sally Weiss with the backpacker crowd. Sally laughed quietly. Sally: My dad insists it’s the proper European way. Though he did put me in first class. Amélie: Sounds like him. Send me your arrival time. I’ll check with your parents and confirm. Sally wiggled back against the pillows, satisfied. It was only eight, and already her world was quietly aligning itself. She reached for her sketchbook, the one she’d brought everywhere lately, and flipped to the page with the shoes. She added a line here, shaded there. Time slipped, unnoticed, the city outside continuing its rhythm while she disappeared into pencil and thought. A knock interrupted her focus. Sally frowned, glancing down at her pajama-clad legs, diaper flaps peeking out and the loose t-shirt slipping off one shoulder. She considered a robe, then decided against it. “Who is it?” she called, cautious. “Me,” came Theresa’s unmistakable voice. Sally smiled and opened the door just enough to let Theresa in, using it as a strategic shield. Theresa took one look at her and sighed. “You have breakfast with Erika downstairs at nine,” she said flatly. “And while I admire authenticity and all that, I strongly suggest you shower and put on something that doesn’t suggest you just escaped a crib.” Sally grinned, unapologetic. “Good morning to you too.” Theresa’s mouth twitched despite herself. “You’ve got forty minutes. Don’t make me come back.” She turned to leave, then paused. “You look happy,” she added, softer. Sally nodded, still smiling. “I am.” Theresa gave a single approving nod and disappeared down the hall. “That diaper looks like it’s at its limit”, she observed, as Sally made an effort to tug the sagging diaper up. “You know how it is”, Sally shrugged. Theresa had been wearing looser clothing since their accident. Her bruised equine nerve was taking it sweet time healing completely. “I’ve been using these pull-up style ones, but they are a bore to change. That means I need to bring a diaper as a quick-change option”, Theresa commented. Sally turned back. “So wear two pull-ups. One over the other… When you use one, just rip it off and leave the other one on. Saves you from having to undress completely”, Sally suggested, remembering past dealings with her own Goodnites at school. Theresa’s eyebrows arched. “Smart cookie”, she chuckled. “I’ll have to try that”. Sally smiled and closed the door, leaned back against it for a second, then laughed quietly to herself. Sweet Theresa. She had been through so much, and still was loyally fierce. Even in her new self, from tight jeans and sweaters into loose pants and skirts. She was Theresa. A day with Erika awaited. -- Sally was early, of course. She always did when she cared. She stood near the tall windows of the lobby, hands loosely folded around her phone, watching Milan wake itself properly. In blue jeans that fit just right, a white turtleneck, and her brown leather jacket folded neatly over her arm, she felt faintly overdressed—but not in a way she regretted. Erika, and this city, deserved intention. She spotted her instantly. Erika hesitated just inside the entrance, as if unsure whether she belonged in a place like this, then lifted her head and smiled. Tartan skirt. Black stockings. Black sweater. Burgundy jacket that looked borrowed from adulthood but worn with courage. Shy, bright, unmistakably Erika. Their eyes met. Sally didn’t wait. They crossed the lobby at the same time, collided in a soft, clumsy hug that was half-laughter, half-relief. From a discreet distance, Theresa observed, satisfied, before letting the staff guide them toward the breakfast room. The restaurant was all glass and quiet elegance, sunlight catching on porcelain and silver. They slid into their seats, still a little breathless from the reunion. Erika was the first to speak, fingers worrying at the cuff of her sleeve. “I didn’t know how to dress,” she admitted. “I was afraid I’d be too formal. But also afraid not formal enough. So I panicked and chose everything.” Sally smiled, warm and immediate. “You look nice.” Erika flushed, ducking her head. Before the conversation could drift, Sally reached into her bag and slid a small, carefully wrapped package across the table. “Happy fifteenth birthday-and-a-half.” Erika frowned, confused. “It’s not my birthday. We said nothing about presents.” Sally pressed her lips together, stubborn but gentle. “You didn’t get your fifteenth. So I’m claiming fifteen and a half. Open it.” Erika hesitated, then smiled despite herself and carefully peeled back the paper, as though the wrapping itself deserved respect. The blue box emerged. Her breath caught. “A Swatch…” Sally nodded. “Chagall’s Blue Circus. Tate Gallery edition.” Erika looked up, stunned. “How did you know?” “I spoke to your brother, Giorgio. I needed intelligence,” Sally said lightly. “He said you collect them. And that you didn’t have this one.” Erika lifted the watch from its cradle, turning it slowly, eyes shining. “If four Swatches count as a collection,” she said softly. “This is… beautiful.” “Watches and art,” Sally replied. “A good combination. And blue suits you.” Erika fastened it to her wrist with careful fingers. She blinked once. Then again. “It’s just—” she waved a hand, then laughed quietly, brushing at her cheek as if the moisture there had arrived uninvited. “Grazie,” she said simply. Sally met her gaze, steady and fond. -- Breakfast, it turned out, demanded just as much attention as the conversation. The table filled itself gradually, as if Milan believed in pacing. Warm bread appeared first—still faintly steaming—served with pale butter and small jars of apricot and bitter orange marmalade. Espresso followed, dark and unapologetic, alongside softer cappuccinos dusted with cocoa. A carafe of fresh orange juice caught the light like stained glass. Then came the Italian confidence: thin slices of prosciutto folded like silk, bresaola brushed with olive oil and lemon, creamy ricotta topped with honey and crushed pistachios. There were delicate omelets studded with herbs, a bowl of marinated tomatoes with sea salt, and a plate of focaccia cut into neat, tempting squares. French influence crept in quietly—mini croissants with crisp edges, pain au chocolat still warm at the center. Spanish notes followed just as discreetly: sliced manchego, a dish of roasted peppers glistening with oil, a whisper of smoked paprika in the air. Erika stared, delighted and slightly overwhelmed. “This is breakfast?” she asked, incredulous. “In my house, breakfast is coffee and maybe a biscuit if someone remembers.” Sally smiled. “This is breakfast that wants to be remembered.” They ate slowly, commenting on flavors, trading opinions with exaggerated seriousness. “This cheese is dangerous,” Erika declared, pointing at the manchego. “I could betray my country for it.” “You’d be forgiven,” Sally said. “Temporarily.” At one point Erika tried to butter a croissant with too much enthusiasm, the butter slipping onto the plate. She laughed, unbothered, and wiped her fingers on her napkin. Sally watched her with quiet affection, the ease between them settling deeper with every shared bite. Eventually the table grew calmer. Plates emptied. Cups cooled. The intensity softened into something gentle. They leaned back in their chairs, sunlight warming their shoulders, the hum of the restaurant filling the pauses where conversation no longer needed to rush in. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t awkward. It was earned. Sally sipped the last of her coffee and exhaled softly. Erika traced the edge of her new watch with her thumb, smiling to herself. Breakfast had reached its natural end—not with fullness, but with contentment. The best kind. -- Sally wiped her lips with her napkin and looked up at Erika, who was studying her cappuccino foam like it might reveal secrets. “I couldn’t help but notice some… interesting books in your room,” Sally said lightly. “Not exactly the standard Milan-teen bookshelf.” Erika groaned and leaned back in her chair. “That is entirely Patricia’s fault. Entirely.” She lifted a finger for emphasis. “She dared me. That was the mistake.” Sally smiled. “Dared you to read?” “I had already read Narnia,” Erika went on. “And then she said, ‘If you liked that, you should try other things.’ Dangerous sentence.” She hesitated, then added more quietly, “And once I started… I couldn’t stop.” Sally blinked. “Wait. You talk to Patricia?” Erika nodded. “About serious things. The uncomfortable things.” She picked at the edge of her plate. “With you, I don’t want to fight or argue or get tangled up. You matter too much. With Patricia, I can be messy. I can disagree. I can be angry.” She looked up. “But I’m searching.” Sally leaned forward, her coffee forgotten. “Searching for what?” Erika exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. Meaning, maybe. Truth. Or just… something solid.” She swallowed. “When your accident happened, I thought you’d be shattered. Anyone would be. And instead you were—hurting, yes—but strong. Steady. It bothered me.” “In a bad way?” Sally asked gently. “In a confusing way,” Erika said. “You had just found your faith. I thought it would make everything worse. But it didn’t. It made you… anchored.” She shook her head. “And the first thing I thought after hearing about the crash was God. Which is ridiculous, because if you’d asked me before, I would have said I was an atheist.” “Catholic atheist,” Sally offered. “Exactly. Baptized, confirmed, fully uninterested.” Erika paused. “Now I’m not so sure. Because if God exists, then everything changes. And if He doesn’t, then why do people like you come out of things like that… different?” Sally stayed quiet, letting the moment breathe. “So Patricia gave me Schaeffer. And Lewis,” Erika continued. “And now my brain won’t shut up.” “And?” Sally prompted softly. Erika shrugged, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “And I’m still reading.” Sally let out a quiet breath. “I can’t believe you never talked to me about this.” Erika winced. “Patricia told me to. I was afraid it would ruin things between us. I didn’t want you to think I was interrogating your faith.” Sally reached across the table without thinking, her hand brushing Erika’s. “I wouldn’t. Ever. And I won’t pressure you. I promise.” Erika’s shoulders relaxed. “Did you read those books too?” Sally shook her head. “Not at first. I just read the Gospels. The New Testament. Reading into the whole Bible now. I did read Lewis. I keep meaning to steal some of my dad’s books—he’s gone full philosopher lately. Schaeffer, Piper…” Erika laughed. “Of course he has.” The tension dissolved, replaced by warmth and teasing smiles. “So,” Erika said, lifting her spoon. “Heavy theology before noon. Very us.” “Let’s balance it with something shallow,” Sally suggested. “Like shoes.” At that exact moment, Theresa appeared at the edge of the restaurant, sunglasses in hand. “I see you’ve solved God, existence, and breakfast,” she said dryly. “Ready for a walk?” Erika grinned. “Only if it accidentally includes shopping.” Theresa sighed. “I knew this city would corrupt you.” They stepped out into the old streets, sunlight catching stone and shadow, intentions noble and plans vague. Within an hour, sightseeing gave way to storefronts, and debates about jackets became far more animated than medieval architecture. Sally paused in front of a mirror, trying on a sporty blazer. “My leather jacket is too elegant,” she declared seriously. Theresa raised an eyebrow. “A sentence I never thought I’d hear.” Erika laughed, looping her arm through Sally’s. “Milan agrees with you.” And somewhere between cobblestones and shop windows, the day unfolded—not as answers, but as friendship, laughter, and the quiet joy of walking forward together. -- “This is the deal,” Sally announced, stopping short on the sidewalk and lifting a finger as if she were sealing a contract. “We walk back to the hotel. Walking helps digestion. Then gelato. Then upstairs to my room. I have another surprise for you. After that, I take you out to dinner.” Erika narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “You are being very organized for someone who claims to be spontaneous.” “I’m European today,” Sally replied solemnly. Theresa, who had been half a step behind them the entire afternoon, cleared her throat. “Your shopping will be delivered directly to the hotel. You are officially done carrying bags.” Erika blinked. “Delivered?” Sally nodded. “Milan is very considerate when it wants to empty your wallet.” They walked back through the city at an unhurried pace, the afternoon settling into early evening. The streets felt warmer now, the light lower and softer, shop windows glowing. Sally noticed how Erika walked differently here—more relaxed, shoulders loose, as if the city itself had claimed her posture. Back at the hotel, the lobby hummed quietly with low conversation and polished footsteps. The scent of coffee and sugar hung in the air. Gelato appeared almost instantly, as if summoned by habit: small porcelain cups, one pistachio and dark chocolate, the other hazelnut and stracciatella. Erika tasted hers and closed her eyes. “This is correct,” she declared. “Everything before this moment was just preparation.” Sally laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Wait until you see what comes next.” They finished slowly, lingering, until Theresa checked her watch and gestured toward the elevators. “Up you go. I’ll be nearby.” The elevator ride was quiet, anticipation buzzing just under the surface. Erika kept glancing at Sally, clearly trying to read her expression. When the suite door opened, Erika stepped in—and stopped. “Oh,” she breathed. Sally smiled, already knowing. Erika drifted past the sitting area, past the neatly arranged shopping bags, drawn as if by gravity toward the balcony. She slid the door open and stepped outside. Il Duomo rose in front of her, pale stone glowing against the deepening sky, every spire sharp and unreal, close enough to feel like it was leaning toward them. Erika pressed a hand to the railing. “Sally… this isn’t a view. This is a statement.” Sally leaned against the doorframe, watching her friend take it in. “I was going to say something clever. But I think I’ll just let it work.” Erika turned slowly, eyes bright. “You brought me here. You remade the memory.” Sally nodded, soft. “That was the idea.” Erika stepped back inside and hugged her hard, sudden and fierce. “Whatever the surprise is,” she said into Sally’s shoulder, “it already lost.” Sally laughed quietly. “You haven’t even seen it yet.” Erika pulled back, smiling through damp lashes. “Then I am ready. Completely unprepared. But ready.” Outside, the Duomo stood watch. Inside, the evening was just beginning. -- Erika turned slowly toward Sally, curiosity flickering across her face. The suite was quiet now, dusk settling outside, the Duomo glowing pale blue through the balcony doors. Sally didn’t say anything. She simply crossed the room, opened the walk-in closet, and reached for a white garment bag hanging slightly apart from the others. Erika watched, suddenly very still. The zipper slid down with a soft, deliberate sound. Blue emerged. Not loud, not theatrical—deep, luminous, the kind of blue that looked different depending on how the light touched it. Satin, fluid, elegant without being severe. A party dress, yes—but restrained, intentional. Erika’s mouth fell open before she could stop it. “Per me?” Her voice was barely above a breath. Sally nodded, suddenly shy in a way that surprised even her. “Per te,” she said softly. “There are shoes too. And a shawl. I hope you like it.” For a moment, Erika didn’t move. Then she stepped closer, as if the dress might vanish if she didn’t. She reached out and touched the fabric with two fingers, reverent. “Ma non ho mai…” She stopped, searching for words. “I’ve never worn anything like this.” Sally tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “You have. On the Flying Fox. Remember? And you looked incredible.” She paused, then added more quietly, “You will tonight too. For me.” Erika swallowed, emotion flickering across her face before she could hide it. She lifted the dress fully from the bag and laid it carefully on the bed, smoothing the fabric as if it were something alive. “Lo indosso adesso?” she asked, half-laughing, half-nervous. “Like this? As I am?” Sally shook her head gently. “No. You get the full experience. Shower or bath—your choice. And there’s a hairdresser coming. For both of us.” Erika looked up sharply. “A hairdresser?” Sally nodded, suddenly more confident again. “Tonight matters. I want you to feel special.” Erika stared at the dress, then at Sally, then back at the dress. Her voice softened. “You already made me feel special.” Sally smiled, warm and steady. “Then let me finish the job.” -- The early evening unfolded in a way that refused to be rushed, as if time itself had decided to soften around them. They took turns in the bathroom, steam lingering in the air long after the water stopped running. Erika emerged first, wrapped in a robe, cheeks flushed, hair still damp and lighter than usual. Sally followed, calmer on the surface, but with a quiet anticipation humming beneath her skin. The hairdresser arrived precisely on time—Italian, of course, impeccably dressed, expressive hands, and an air of gentle authority. He surveyed them the way an artist studies a canvas, head tilted, lips pursed. “Natural,” he said, decisively. “Sempre naturale.” He worked on Erika first, coaxing her blond curls into shape rather than taming them—lifting here, defining there, letting them fall with intention instead of obedience. When he was done, her curls framed her face with effortless softness, playful and luminous. Sally watched from the sofa, smiling. Then it was her turn. He smoothed her dark hair with practiced precision, letting it fall sleek and glossy, a quiet contrast to Erika’s light. Nothing excessive. Just enough polish to make her look unmistakably herself—only sharper. When he left, the room felt charged, like the pause before music begins. They stood in front of the mirror together, barefoot, robes loosened, studying their reflections with a mix of disbelief and delight. “You look…” Erika started, then stopped. “Like you belong here.” Sally chuckled softly. “That makes two of us.” They helped each other with makeup—Sally steadying Erika’s hand as she traced eyeliner, Erika leaning close to adjust Sally’s lip color with exaggerated seriousness. There was laughter, concentration, the occasional breath held too long. Then the dresses. Erika slipped into the blue satin, the fabric settling against her as if it had been waiting for her specifically. Sally fastened the zipper carefully, hands respectful, deliberate. “Turn,” she said. Erika turned. Sally inhaled, slow and deep. “Wow.” Erika’s eyes shone. “You’re not allowed to look at me like that all night.” “I absolutely am,” Sally replied, without thinking. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to flirt”. “I’ve been biting my tongue all afternoon”, said Erika, looking down. Then, she looked up, eyes shining. “But I like the way you look too”. The two girls embraced gently, and helped each other with the final touches. They were just finishing when a knock came. A hotel waiter stood outside, immaculate, smiling warmly. “Signorine,” he said, inclining his head. “Terrazza Duomo is ready for you.” They followed him through quiet corridors, heels clicking softly, the hum of the city growing nearer with every step. The elevator rose smoothly, numbers lighting up one by one. At the rooftop entrance, the doors opened to a glow—warm lights, murmured voices, the Duomo rising just beyond, impossibly close. Sally stopped. Her phone vibrated in her hand. She glanced at the screen. And froze. -- “Mom?” Sally answered softly. Erika stiffened for half a second, the way people do when adulthood intrudes on a moment meant to be theirs. The tension dissolved almost instantly when Sally let out a small laugh. “Mom, you scared me. What’s up?” She turned slightly away, pressing the phone closer to her ear. A pause. Sally listened, her expression shifting—not alarmed, not surprised, just pleased. Very pleased. “Just a sec, mom,” she said. She lowered the phone and looked at Erika, eyes bright. “Go ahead. Make sure we get the best table. I’ll finish this in a second.” Erika blinked. “Sola?” The waiter bowed politely, already gesturing toward the entrance. “Prego, signorina.” Erika hesitated, glancing back at Sally. Something in Sally’s face—calm, expectant—made her comply. She followed the waiter, heart thudding lightly, half-amused, half-curious. Sally slipped the phone into her bag and took a breath. Everything had gone exactly to plan. The doors to the Terrazza Duomo opened wider. “BUON COMPLEANNO, ERIKA!” The shout came all at once—voices overlapping, laughter, applause, the unmistakable sound of joy breaking loose. Erika froze. She stood just inside the threshold, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, as the scene rushed in all at once. The terrace was alive. Warm lights strung overhead, tables drawn together into a celebratory sprawl. Balloons in soft blues and silvers danced gently in the evening air. And there—stretching across the far wall, framed by the glowing spires of the Duomo beyond the glass— BUON COMPLEANNO PER I TUOI QUINDICI ANNI E MEZZO, ERIKA! Her friends from school were there, clustered together and waving wildly. A couple of cousins she hadn’t expected stood near the bar. Giorgio was front and center, grinning like he’d been keeping a secret for weeks. Her parents stood side by side, Isabella with one hand over her mouth, eyes already wet, Lorenzo beaming with unapologetic pride. Erika’s breath caught. “No… no, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head, laughing and crying at the same time. She turned. Sally was standing just inside the doorway now, having stepped in quietly behind her. She didn’t say anything at first. She simply watched Erika—really watched her—as the realization landed. “For you,” Sally said at last, voice steady but warm. “You didn’t get fifteen. So we’re celebrating fifteen and a half.” Erika stared at her, stunned, eyes shining. “You did this?” Sally shrugged, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. “I might have… coordinated.” Erika crossed the distance in three quick steps and threw her arms around her, dress and all, holding on like she was afraid the moment might vanish if she let go. Erika choked. “Sei impossibile.” “And you’re celebrated,” Sally replied softly, hugging her back. -- The terrace breathed with life. Soft music threaded through clusters of laughter, glasses chimed, coats were shrugged on and off as people drifted between the warmth inside and the cool night air outside. The Duomo rose beside them, lit from below, marble glowing like something alive—too grand to ignore, too familiar to overwhelm. Erika was everywhere at once. She moved from group to group, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, accepting hugs, teasing remarks, compliments that made her laugh and protest at the same time. Her parents watched from a respectful distance, pride written plainly on their faces. Giorgio hovered nearby, half-embarrassed, half-amused, clearly enjoying seeing his sister command a room like this. She was beaming. Not performing—beaming. Sally noticed it from the edges. At first, she stayed close, anchoring herself near Erika, making sure the night held together the way she’d imagined it. But gradually, without any real decision, she drifted. They found her. A small group of teens approached, hesitant at first, then braver. Phones already in hand. “Excuse me… you are really Sally Weiss?” She smiled, the familiar, disarming one. “I suppose I am.” A ripple of excitement. English poured out—careful, practiced, eager. They wanted to tell her they’d read about her. About the accident. About how she was supposed to be here months ago. About how crazy it was that she was finally in Milan. Selfies followed. Quick, breathless moments. A hand on her shoulder. A laugh when someone’s phone slipped. Someone asked if her Italian was really that good. Someone else asked what Florida was like. One girl told her she liked her shoes. A boy asked her what it was like to survive something like that. Sally answered gently. Simply. She didn’t dramatize it. She never did. Across the terrace, Erika caught her eye. For a second, Sally worried—had she pulled focus after all? But Erika was smiling. Not tight or polite. Real. Proud. They shared a look that didn’t need translation. Later, the crowd thinned as the night settled. The air cooled further, the stone beneath their feet holding onto the day’s warmth just enough to make standing still comfortable. Sally stepped back outside, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the silk whispering as it moved. Erika joined her at the railing. They stood side by side, looking out at the Duomo, now quieter somehow, as if the city itself were catching its breath. The lights traced every edge, every carved line, turning shadow into sculpture. “Fa freddino,” Erika murmured. Sally nodded. “Just enough.” They stood in silence for a moment. Not awkward. Full. Then Erika turned to her. Really turned. Her eyes were glossy, not with tears yet, but close. The kind that arrive after something lands exactly where it was meant to. “Mille grazie, Sally Weiss,” she said softly. Sally swallowed, her throat tight in that familiar way. She shook her head once, almost shy. “Di niente,” she replied. “It was always supposed to be you.” -- “Bravo, Sally,” Theresa said as the train finally eased out of Milano Centrale, the next day after a light lunch. Sally shrugged, settling into her seat and tucking one leg beneath her. “Erika deserved it. And… I don’t know. I liked making someone else the star for once.” Theresa smiled sideways. “Katrina saw to that, didn’t she?” Sally let out a soft laugh. “She always does.” Theresa had been right. The party had exploded online almost instantly, and for a brief moment it looked as if the attention might tilt the wrong way—toward Sally, toward the spectacle, toward everything Erika hadn’t wanted. But Katrina had anticipated that too. With surgical precision, she reframed the narrative before it could drift. Posts were tagged not around the guest of honor’s famous friend, but around Erika herself—introduced and elevated as the daughter of a prominent Italian architect and a celebrated designer, Milanese through and through. The captions shifted. The focus locked in. Erika’s accounts lit up. Not with gossip, but with admiration. Her style. Her confidence. That unmistakable haircut—the shaved side, the defiant pink strand—was suddenly everywhere, reposted and dissected, praised as fearless, modern, unmistakably hers. Comments poured in from places she’d never been, in languages she didn’t speak. For the first time, the spotlight didn’t borrow its glow from someone else. It belonged to Erika. Outside, Milan unraveled quickly—graffiti, rail yards, concrete—until the city loosened its grip. Inside, Sally switched her phone to do not disturb, then immediately ignored herself and opened the notifications anyway. The aftermath. She scrolled slowly, thoughtfully, as if savoring each message. Jana: That was one cool party. Nobody fell off the terrace. So glad it turned out well. Sally smiled. That was Jana—measuring success in survival. Patricia: So good to see Erika so happy. I’m glad you went and made her shine. Sally paused on that one longer. Patricia always knew exactly where to aim her words. Not flashy. Just true. Then the 3Musk group lit up. Katrina: I made Erika famous. People need to appreciate that style. Sorry Sally, don’t be mad at me. Clara: Sally won’t be mad. She made this party for Erika. Sally laughed quietly, shoulders relaxing for the first time since the terrace doors had opened the night before. She typed back. Sally: Thank you, Katrina. Erika was outraged at the social media invasion… but I caught her smiling while reading the comments. Almost instantly: Katrina: Told you so. Sally is the perfect party organizer. Even Clara’s non-existent social media got a boost from that SYLVIA article. Clara: My Instagram only shows a picture of my chess board. I hope that makes people interested in chess. Sally snorted, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned her head against the window as the train gathered speed, the landscape flattening, the sky a soft, undecided grey. Somewhere behind her, Milan still hummed with last night’s echoes—laughter, music, surprise. She felt pleasantly empty now. The good kind of tired. The kind that comes after doing something that mattered. Theresa glanced over. “You okay?” Sally nodded. “Yeah. Just… happy.” The train surged northward, carrying her back through borders and mountains, away from applause and into something quieter. And for once, Sally didn’t feel like she was leaving anything behind.

Definitely a good start. I hope you will be able to create more.

Load up on the things you know will make you need to go, then go for a padded drive. Eventually you will need to go. When the time comes do it. If you need to park to get the job done so be it. After you finish with that you need to go back home to change. You will be stuck in your stinky diapy for the return trip home.

Devastating news indeed. I'm so very sorry for your loss. I had a similar loss when I was 20 at about the same time of year and it is really hard to crawl out of the pit of dispair that causes. You will feel like your heart has been ripped out of your chest for a long time, but it will get better bit by bit. Look for relatives and friends (or professionals) that you trust who can help you learn to cope in your new world.

I already ate too many! 😋

Nothing else to do here other than watch TV .... So I'm baking cookies! First tray is already in the oven and it's making me hungry!

Other people ( @Reddy, @Hannah YMS, @keyman419, @oznl, @superabsorbantpolymer, @BrownBobby) have been too kind to you, and given you way too much benefit of the doubt. You are at best a disgruntled person who had fantasies vs needs and had no idea which was which because you jumped in on a whim and now projecting your self loathing on others. At worst you are a troll naysayer and/or preacher type who is looking for some credibility by saying that you have taken the most extreme steps towards incontinence. You got "the" surgery in Mexico? What was the procedure? Did you go to the same Dr. as everyone else? How long ago was the surgery? @Reddy I hope I am not giving up the goat here as it were, but, when did that Dr. move on? You have "been" to India "seeking the incontinence surgery". Which surgery were you looking for in india that you didn't get in Mexico? Why didn't you make phone calls or emails? I don't need personal details but if we are going to have a legitimate conversation we, as in the community, are going to need information and context. So here is my statement and caveat for you: IF and a giant IF you actually did this and regret it. I am sorry that you do. Hopefully you were seeing a good mental healthcare professional before undergoing surgery and will continue to see them now that you are having regrets. Statistically about 1% of people who transition (granted genders and not ability) regret it and wish to de transition. If you are part of that 1%, you pulled the short straw and I am sorry that it happened to you. It is also worth mentioning that virtually everyone who has documented their journey and actually achieves incontinence regrets it at some point for a time. I think it is the cognitive dissonance and self image re orienting and then the stages of grief for whomever one could be and then the final acceptance. That is the extent of nice DAQ. Stop here if you @Jacobs have had a good day. Otherwise I am going to drop some truth bombs on you. Step 1. Pull your head out of your own diapered (allegedly) ass. Step 2. Get out of here and take your sanctimonious crap with you. Your post is not a cautionary tail. It is the ramblings of a madman with an "THE END IS NEAR" sign. Step 3. Take better trolling lessons. As I said before, others may have given you the benefit of the doubt, but your phraseology to me strongly suggests that you are not part of this community. When it comes to incontinence, it is not a fetish, it is not a "desire", it is a deeply held belief. It is an identity. Step 4. Consider the opposite of your judgemental BS bolded statement. "I think this post should include ways to address the disastrous mental health consequences associated with seeking surgical outcomes". I think that this post should include ways to address the disastrous mental health consequences of an inability to achieve incontinence. Or perhaps meditate on the negative health consequences of not being able to discuss openly one's desires and needs. Or perhaps consider not being allowed to discuss this sort of thing. The worst thing that anyone ever can do is self censor..... unless they are a total asshole. On the other hand, you might consider self censoring. Frankly, I don't care if you were truthful or not, sincere or not, or if your post was in good faith. It is garbage. Absolute garbage that has no place here. Delete it and try again. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. If you want to spread your gospel of caution and introspection before taking permanent steps, that is an admirable sentiment and applaud it. You did not do that. You preached nothing but antipathy and judgement. I have judged you and found you wanting. You have made me a hypocrite and I hate it. For everyone else. I apologize for this post. I hope I have not put words in people's mouths. But until this forum has a legitimate and active moderator, I think it is up to the community to aggressively self moderate posts that are antithetical to the purpose of this forum. I am tired of people like this one this particular subforum. Frankly, the whole subforum should be pulled out of the incontinence umbrella. It invites way too many people that are struggling with their disability to poopoo all over people who NEED said disability to (ironically) feel whole Sincerely DAQ's last post because I am sure I am about to get banned for telling an obvious troll to piss right off, pun intended.

Chapter 26: Investigation “Do you recognize this man?” Jimmy stared at the photo in shock. He had never expected the person who broke into his apartment would be his former boss, Chad Devue. The look on Jimmy’s face said it loud and clear. He knew who this was. Detective Gordon could read his face like a book, but he still waited for verbal confirmation. Reading facial expressions didn’t exactly stand up in court. “That….That’s Chad DeVue. He used to be my boss at Hermes Insurance.” Detective Gordon was not prepared for that answer. A former boss breaking into an ex-employee’s apartment wasn’t something he had seen before. He brought his expression back to neutral quickly, but not fast enough that it wasn’t noticed. He quickly cleared his throat before continuing his questions. “You’re sure? Do you have any idea why he would do this?” Mei placed her hand on Jimmy’s shoulder in support. She was trying her best to pass some strength to Jimmy through physical contact. Jimmy reached back and put his hand on top of hers. He was grateful for her support. He took a deep breath before launching into the explanation. “It is likely due to the way things went down on the day I quit. Chadd had always seemed to have a grudge against me. Something about me just seemed to piss him off. So, I became his whipping boy. He would push all of his work onto my desk and spend all day goofing off with the sales bro’s who usually hung around his office. I would drop off the reports at the end of the day, and usually, he just ignored me most of the time. A couple of months ago, he discovered my incontinence and humiliated me in front of the entire office. I did my best to ignore it, put my head down, and just do my work. However, a few weeks ago, I was really struggling with my mental health. As a result, my work began to suffer. I started making mistakes, not big ones, but mistakes. After a few days of mistakes, his patience ran out, and he began to berate me in front of the office. Due to trauma from childhood, whenever I’m super stressed or anxious, I will release small spurts of pee into a padded brief. So, while being berated in an already full brief, I had a full-blown accident. My brief leaked all over my pants. He began to laugh, and the rest of the office did as well. He made some comment about informing HR that they had hired a baby by accident, and I snapped. Due to my slight frame and small stature, I did the only thing I could think of that would actually cause pain. I punched him in his testicles.” Detective Gordon kept a stoic, straight face, but inside, he was chuckling at the image of this slight five-foot-two man punching a six-foot-four linebacker in the balls. The juxtaposition was just too funny. Clearing his throat, he refocused. “Ok, so you lashed out physically, and then what? Did he say or do anything else?” Jimmy just shook his head. “Not that I heard. As soon as my fist made contact, he crumpled to the ground. I went to my desk, grabbed my personal items, and left. I dropped my badge off at security and walked out of the building. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.” Detective Gordon finished writing in the small notebook he kept with him for interviews and closed it. Placing the notebook back in his coat pocket, he removed a cardholder from the same pocket. He gave his card to Jimmy, and then extended his hand, intending to shake Jimmy’s. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Dalton. I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions and to update you on any developments. Please feel free to call the number on the card if you think of anything else that might be useful. Do you have somewhere safe to stay while we continue the investigation?” Jimmy took the offered hand and gently shook the Detective’s hand. “I’m staying with my friend Mei. She’s right behind me, and also lives in this building. Thank you, Detective.” Satisfied, the detective nodded his head and walked back to the elevators. Mei pulled Jimmy into a tight hug, her hand rubbing the back of his head. She made sure the detective was out of hearing range before speaking in Jimmy’s ear. “I know that was stressful, and you were such a brave boy! Mommy’s proud of you. When we get back to the apartment, you can slip if you want to.” Jimmy just nodded. He didn’t feel much like talking right now. He just leaned into the hug, letting his Mommy’s presence soothe him. He breathed deep, inhaling the unique mixture of shampoo, body wash, perfume, and body odor that distinctly made up his Mommy. He hoped they would be in the apartment soon. He was starting to feel little again. Soon enough, the ding of the elevator arriving was heard. At the sound of the closing elevator doors, the pair released the hug and walked to the elevator. Just a few minutes later, they were safely back in the confines of the apartment. As soon as the apartment door closed and the deadbolt was slid into place, Jimmy visibly relaxed. He audibly relaxed as well, a faint hissing sound coming from his diaper. Mei heard it too and gently led him into the nursery. After helping him onto the table, she held a pacifier above his face. Her eyes expressed the unasked question. Jimmy opened his mouth to receive the pacifier and was swiftly rewarded with the soothing comfort of his pacifier. “You just lie there and relax, baby. Mommy will take care of everything. Now, let’s get those big boy pants and that big boy shirt off and put my baby in more age-appropriate clothing. No more big boy thoughts.” Once Jimmy had been changed and put in age-appropriate clothing, Mei set him on the nursery floor to play while she packed a bag for their return to the hospital. Jimmy seemed more than happy for the distraction, thoroughly enjoying himself. Thirty minutes later, Mei returned to the nursery with a freshly packed diaper bag. She sat in the rocking chair and gave Jimmy a loving touch on his face to get his attention. “Baby, can you look at Mommy for a minute? Mommy wants to ask you a question.” The melodic tones she used while speaking to him when he was little made him smile as he looked up at her with adoration. Whatever Mommy wanted, he would do it. “So, baby. How would you feel about Joy coming to stay with us while she recovers from her ouchies? That way, you two can spend time together, and she can receive the care she needs. Now, if she stays with us, you have to remember to be gentle. She has bad owies, and if you’re too rough, they will hurt Joy. Would you like that, baby? Do you think you could be gentle?” Jimmy shook his head enthusiastically. Joy sleeping with him in his crib, he would love that. He hoped they could play together lots and lots. “Yes, mamma. Jimmy gentle! Jimmy help Joy!” He received a warm smile in return. That look always made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. It meant that he had been a good boy and done the right thing. He gave a big goofy grin right back to his Mommy. “I know you will, Jimmy. You’re momma’s big helper, aren’t you? Joy will need that help when she starts staying with us, but Mommy is also going to need help. Joy is going to require a lot of extra care, and to make sure I can provide that and care for you, Mommy’s going to need help. I just got off the phone with Miles, and he’s agreed to fly over next week to help me take care of you and Joy. Is that ok with you, baby? Is it ok if Miles comes and helps Mommy?” Jimmy thought about it for a moment, doing his best to process the question in his regressed mind. In his mind, having Joy here meant someone to play with, and Miles being here meant he would potentially have another person to play with. The thought of having two people to play with was exciting. “Yay, Miles! Miles play with Jimmy?” He was rewarded with another warm smile, and he knew he had made the right choice. Mommy was happy, so he was happy. “I’m sure he would love to play with you, Jimmy! He’s also really good at making blanket forts and doing silly voices. How does that sound, baby?” Jimmy clapped his hands in excitement, and that was all the answer she needed. She quickly texted Miles the good news, along with a picture of an excited Jimmy clapping in joy. He quickly responded with a funny GIF of a person making a face with the text “Awwww” across the bottom. “Ok, now that that’s settled, how about we get some food in that tummy of yours and head back to the hospital? What are you hungry for, baby?” The response was immediate. “Nuggies!” Mei picked him up and grabbed the diaper bag. She grabbed Jimmy’s BoBo and Joy’s Lady so they could both have a friend at the hospital. Jimmy was put in his car seat, and the pair made their way back towards the hospital. A quick stop through the McDonald’s Drive-Thru, and two Happy Meals later, they were on their way back to the hospital. Soon enough, they were back in Joy’s hospital room. She was fast asleep after her tiring interview with the detectives. Mei quietly set a Happy Meal by her bed and took Jimmy down to the cafeteria to let Joy sleep. Mei was glad she had remembered a bib for Jimmy, as he had gotten ketchup all over his hands, and wiped them on his bib. They sat there in the cafeteria for an hour. Jimmy eventually ran out of steam and fell asleep sitting on Mei’s lap. Carrying a sleeping Jimmy, she returned to Joy’s room to check on her. Joy was now sitting up in bed, happily munching on her Happy Meal. Her eyes perked up when she noticed Mei entering the room. “Thank you so much for the Happy Meal, Mei. This definitely beats the bland hospital food they offered me for lunch. How’s Jimmy coping? Is he ok? I know he was worried, seeing me like this.” As Mei approached the bed, Joy scooted as far as she could to the side of the bed. Mei gently lay Jimmy next to her in the bed. She gently brushed some hair out of Jimmy’s eyes before moving back to a chair by the bed. She looked at Jimmy lying next to Joy and noted how much longer his hair had gotten recently. It had probably been close to two months since his last haircut. She would have to talk to him about that and see if he wanted to cut it short again. “So, how was the interview with the Detectives?” Joy looked down at the sleeping form of Jimmy and frowned. “I told them what I remembered, and they took notes. At the end, they asked me to describe the attacker to a sketch artist. I told them that it was unnecessary, as I knew who attacked me. It was Jimmy’s old boss, Chad DeVue.” Mei shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, he had already wrecked up Jimmy’s apartment. Why wouldn’t he go after friends when he didn’t find Jimmy there? He likely hadn’t known about her, so he hadn’t looked at her apartment. But how did he know about Joy? How did he know where she worked? “So, after we left you with the detectives, we went back to the apartment complex. I wanted to stop by Jimmy’s apartment and grab some of his books for when he’s big. When we arrived, there was police tape across the door, and the apartment had been ransacked. We talked to a detective investigating the break-in, and it turns out Chad Devue was caught on camera entering and exiting the apartment complex.” Jimmy started to stir at that point, but soon settled back down as Joy started to stroke his hair. Joy looked back at Mei with a speculative look in her eyes. “He did mention something about already looking for Jimmy at home. If I had to guess, he figured out who he was by the Post-It Note I gave Jimmy when we decided to date. It had my name and phone number. A little internet stalking, and voila, he finds out where I work.” The room was silent for a moment, as both women considered how much worse it could have been. Joy could have been killed. If he’d found Jimmy, Jimmy could have been killed. The silence was interrupted by a loud yawn. Jimmy began to rub his eyes. Looking at his surroundings, he was very happy when he found out he was sitting next to Joy. Mei once again couldn’t help but coo at how cute they were together. With Jimmy now awake, it was time to make her proposal. “Joy, when they release you tomorrow, I want you to come stay with Jimmy and me while you recover. Let me take care of you, so you can focus on healing. What do you say?” “I would be happy to. Thank you.”

Shifting gears... This is a bit more over the top. Chapter 16 The ride home felt shorter than it should have. Melissa kept stealing glances at Jasper as he drove, her knee brushing his leg every time they hit a bump. Jasper kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh like he didn’t trust it to do anything else. They barely spoke. They didn’t need to. By the time Jasper pulled into the parking spot, the silence between them was thick with everything they weren’t doing. Melissa was out of the car first — not rushing, not dramatic, just purposeful. Jasper locked the doors with a soft beep and followed her up the stairs. Her steps were fast, her breathing quiet but not steady. He knew exactly what that meant, because he felt the same sharp pull in his chest. She reached the apartment door, paused with her key in hand, and suddenly everything stilled. She didn’t go in. Jasper stopped one step below her, watching the tension settle in her shoulders. “Melissa?” he asked softly. She turned her head slightly, not fully. “Give me a second.” He waited. Hands at his sides. Breathing steady by force alone. Melissa pressed her forehead lightly against the door, eyes closed. She wasn’t nervous — he could tell. She was holding herself together. Barely. “You okay?” Jasper murmured, stepping up behind her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Just… feeling everything at once.” She turned fully toward him now, her back gently hitting the door. Her breath brushed his chin. Jasper froze where he stood. He could have moved closer; she was right there. But he wouldn’t until she asked. Melissa looked up at him, eyes shining with a mix of soft affection and hungry certainty. “Jasper?” “Yeah?” “You don’t have to wait anymore.” His breath hitched — subtle, but enough. She slid her hand into his shirt, fingers curling just above his chest. Pulling him in. Touching him. Claiming him. “You’ve been good,” she said quietly. “Patient. Respectful.” Her voice softened. “Now I want you close.” Jasper pressed himself against her — slow at first, then with purpose — his body aligning with hers as his hands came up to cradle her waist. The moment he touched her, Melissa exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for miles. The keys slipped from her fingers and fell softly against his chest, dangling between them. Neither looked down. Jasper lowered his forehead to hers. “Tell me when.” Melissa swallowed, eyes fluttering closed. “Now.” And he kissed her — rough, rushed, and deep enough that her knees softened and her fingers tightened around his shirt. She kissed him back immediately, hungrily, relief and want mixing into something warm and full. Her back pressed firmly into the door. His hands slid up her sides, under her skirt, pausing at her waist, steadying her. Their breaths tangled, unsteady and rising. The world outside the hallway disappeared. Only when she finally broke the kiss, lips still brushing his, did she whisper: “Unlock the door, Jasper.” He nearly laughed — a quiet, breathless sound against her mouth. “With pleasure.” And as he reached down for the keys she’d dropped against his chest, she curled her fingers into his collar and whispered: “Hurry.” Melissa closed the door and locked it. Jasper pressed from behind, pinning her onto the door. Melissa’s cheek rested against the cool wood - her skin flushed, her eyes wide. Jasper kissed her cheek. Melissa pressed herself back, hungry for contact. Jasper was hard. She could feel it. She was already wet, and lost herself to the feeling of Jasper, leaving enough space for her to press back liberally, as he kissed her softly, in clear restraint. “Jasper…” Melissa breathed. “Do… whatever you have to do. Don’t hold back,” she pushed herself further into Jasper. “Whatever?” Jasper whispered into her ear, clearly hungry. Melissa nodded. Jasper kissed her again, and Jasper’s hand slid down her sides, grazing the sides of her breasts, and down to her skirt. “Are you sure?” Jasper teased. Melissa pushed into Jasper, this time firmer, and nodded, “Take me.” Jasper slid his hands under her skirt and felt the cotton covering her butt. “Your panties are wet,” he murmured. “Anything you want to tell me?” Melissa’s eyes went wide. “I’m very wet, Jasper…” Jasper slid a thumb between her legs, over her panties. “Soaking wet,” Jasper’s hoarse voice penetrated Melissa’s mind. He caressed Melissa’s butt and hooked the waist of her panties and slid them down - just over her butt, bunching just under her crotch. Melissa bit her lip as she felt her cheeks burn while Jasper lifted her skirt and exposed her butt. “Is that OK?” he asked, tentatively. “Touch me,” came Melissa’s confirmation. Jasper ran his hands around Melissa’s bottom, as Melissa pushed herself back at Jasper’s tentative touch. “You like this?” he asked half teasing, half amused. “I love it when you touch… there,” came Melissa’s needy voice. “My butt,” she clarified. “Your bottom,” corrected Jasper. “Butt sounds too… I don’t know. Not you,” he commented offhandedly. “My bottom,” assented Melissa. Jasper got on his knees behind Melissa and ran his hands down her legs. Her skirt fell over her butt, covering her again, barely leaving her bunched up panties in display. “Lift your skirt for me, Melissa,” instructed Jasper, serious. Melissa’s breath hitched at this unusual situation. Here she was, resting her cheek against her apartment door, panties bunched up at her crotch - soaking wet - and Jasper behind her, looking up. Melissa reached for the lower edge of her skirt and lifted it up to her waist, her heart beating at a thousand an hour. Jasper’s hands slid up again along her bare legs and onto her butt - her bottom, she corrected herself mentally. His fingers probed - gently, warmly. Melissa was still biting her lip, and breaths escaped her lips that eventually turned into soft whimpers as Jasper’s fingers got bolder, more intrusive. Jasper discovered Melissa’s bottom. The wet mat of curls coming from between her legs and snaking into her cleft. The smell was wonderful. He kissed Melissa’s bare bottom. Melissa purred. “That feels wonderful,” she said, trying to keep her composure. Jasper continued kissing into the cleft, almost getting into her… but he separated and looked up. “I’d do you here at the door, but maybe the bed would be more comfortable?” Melissa smiled and nodded. She turned around and took Jasper’s hand, and let him lead her into her own bedroom - panties still rolled down her crotch. “Get on the bed,” coaxed Jasper. Melissa complied readily, taking off her blouse and bra, slipping off her skirt - but leaving her panties rolled at her crotch. She lay on the bed and watched Jasper, who was busy tugging off his clothes. She smiled as he busied himself rolling a condom on his erect member - straining as he fought the raw sensations of tugging it on. When he was ready, he turned to Melissa. Melissa smiled and rolled onto her stomach, flat on the bed. Jasper climbed onto the bed and slid the palm of his hand over her bare shoulders and back. He positioned himself on Melissa’s legs and caressed her bottom, as she looked back at him. He scooted forward so the tip of his erection barely touched her between the legs, pressing her wet panties up to her crotch. “Oh,” Melissa closed her eyes with the new feeling. Jasper kneaded her bottom, letting his fingers roam freely, down her cleft to the core of her heat. Around her flesh and again into her cleft. Melissa was wiggling, unable to open her legs, and feeling Jasper’s weight on her legs and his arousal pressing onto her over her wet loose panties. Jasper’s ministrations to her bottom felt wonderful, and she couldn’t sit still as his fingers roamed over it, sliding around, grazing her cleft, the momentary graze on her “back there” hole made her want for more, arching her back and pushing up to him every time he… “Like it?” asked Jasper, bending over her. “Yeah…” Melissa uttered, at a loss for words. Jasper kissed her shoulder. Then her neck. Then, he gently bit her earlobe. Jasper lay on her for a moment, just feeling her. He was big. Heavy. His arousal dug into her bottom, and for a moment, Melissa thought… “Jasper. Not in there. Not now…” she said weakly. She could feel Jasper tense and shake his head. “Nope. Not aiming for that. Sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s not that… This feels good. Maybe some other time, maybe,” Melissa added. Jasper pressed on to her, teasing. “Some other time?” he chuckled. “What that does mean?” “Just… not now. Now make it go down into the other way,” she pouted. Jasper moved his arm around him and lifted himself, holding his erection and pointing down, feeling the heated moist between Melissa’s legs. Melissa was already wiggling under him, complying as he felt his silicone covered member touch her entrance. “There,” whispered Melissa, needy. “Fuck me, Jasper, fuck me.” It was hard not to obey. But Jasper took it slowly. He caressed Melissa’s back and her sides. Felt her lift up off the bed, making space for the palms of his hands to… Melissa sighed as Jasper slid his hands under her breasts. He hadn’t touched them yet this afternoon, so she couldn’t avoid moaning as he groped her, focusing on her hard nipples. She could feel him slowly penetrate her. It took her breath away, as Jasper’s size was… well, bigger than what she’d ever had. But Jasper was bending over, kissing her shoulders and neck as he entered. His bigger frame seemed to squash Melissa, but somehow she took his weight well, and despite his larger size he had the flexibility to lean down and kiss her in the right spots. Jasper was finally in. All the way. He realized he was in danger of coming too soon. This angle was new to him, and the feelings were deep, way more than he was used to. He wiggled gently. He could tell by Melissa’s reaction he had hit gold. But he couldn’t keep holding her breasts. Not if he wanted to do it properly. “You want it hard?” asked Jasper. “As hard as you can give me,” she whimpered, her voice muffled against the sheets. “Push into me, Jasper. Please.” Her hips arched, meeting his subtle movements with a desperate rhythm of her own. The friction, the fullness, the deep, stretching pressure was exquisite. She felt him swell inside her, filling her completely, a delicious ache blooming from her core. Each slow, deliberate thrust sent shivers through her, her muscles clenching around him. He began to move, a slow, deliberate rocking that gradually built in intensity. The bed groaned softly beneath their combined weight. Melissa’s breath hitched with every deep push, a soft, guttural sound escaping her lips. His hips pulled back, then drove forward, a rhythmic shlicking sound echoing in the quiet room. Her wetness, combined with the condom, created a slick, warm suction that pulled at him, drawing him deeper. He felt the soft give of her cervix with each thrust, a sensation that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his own core. Jasper leaned down, his lips trailing fire across her neck, then up to her ear. “You feel so good, Melissa. So tight.” His voice was rough, strained with his own building desire. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her fingers digging into the sheets, her bottom rising to meet him. She loved the feel of his weight pressing her into the mattress, the way his cock filled her, stretched her, made her feel utterly consumed. The pleasure was a hot, insistent flame, licking higher with each stroke. Her clit, nestled beneath her bunched panties, throbbed with a distant, promising ache. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The sounds of their bodies meeting grew louder – the wet, rhythmic slap of skin, the soft squelch of flesh, Melissa’s quick, panting breaths. He gripped her hips, anchoring her as he drove into her, harder and faster. Her legs trembled, her toes curling into the sheets. Her entire body vibrated with the onslaught of sensation. “Oh, God, Jasper,” she cried out, her voice breaking. “More. Give me more.” He responded with a guttural groan, his hips bucking, driving into her with a primal force. The head of his cock brushed against her G-spot with each deep plunge, sending waves of intense pleasure through her. Her internal muscles spasmed around him, milking him, urging him on. She could feel the pre-cum, thick and slick, coating the inside of her, making their connection even more potent. Her nipples, still hard and sensitive from his earlier touch, brushed against the sheets, adding another layer of exquisite torture. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, a mix of sweat, arousal, and her own unique perfume. His muscles strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was close, so incredibly close. The feeling of being completely encased in her, of her body responding so eagerly to his, was pushing him to the edge. He focused on her cries, on the feeling of her clenching around him, letting it all propel him forward. “I’m… I’m going to…” he gasped, his voice thick. Melissa’s body tensed, a delicious shiver running through her. “Yes! Let go, Jasper!” She felt a powerful surge deep inside her, a building pressure that was almost unbearable. Her hips began to buck uncontrollably, her moans turning into a high, keening sound. The world narrowed to the sensations of him inside her, the relentless rhythm, the exquisite friction. With a final, powerful thrust, Jasper groaned, a deep, primal sound that tore from his throat. He emptied himself into the condom, hot and pulsing, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He collapsed onto her back, his weight heavy and comforting, his breath ragged against her ear. Melissa cried out, a wave of intense pleasure washing over her, her body convulsing around him as her own orgasm broke over her in a series of powerful, delicious waves. Her legs clamped around his, holding him tight, as she rode the last tremors of her climax. They lay there for a long moment, their bodies tangled, their breathing slowly returning to normal. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, a testament to the raw passion they had just shared. Jasper’s cock, still deep inside her, slowly softened, but he made no move to withdraw. He simply held her close, pressing a soft kiss to her sweat-damp hair. “Wow,” Melissa whispered, her voice still shaky, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips. “Just… wow.”

At this time of year, in the UK C is for mince pies. However I'm also partial to the odd McVities Plain Chocolate Digestive biscuit.

*See if you can catch the pop culture references in this chapter. They're not that subtle.* Chapter 23: Recovery Mei had just put Jimmy down for the night when his phone began to ring. The phone’s caller ID showed Joy was calling. Mei accepted the call, and a sobbing voice on the other end of the line identified themselves as Diane, Joy’s Mother. Her Mother informed her that Joy had been assaulted outside of her work. She was in the hospital in critical condition. Mei almost dropped the phone in disbelief. Who would want to attack Joy? The level of violence required to put her in critical condition definitely gave the impression that this had been personal, and not just a random mugging. Mei had promised the crying woman on the other end of the line that they would be at the hospital as soon as they could. The woman assured her that there was no need to hurry. Joy had been placed in a medically induced coma to assist her recovery. She assured Mei that there was nothing she could do for Joy right now. Mei thanked the woman and hung up. Mei did not sleep well at all that night. She lay there in bed thinking about Joy, tears streaming down her face. She had known Jimmy longer, but had grown to love Joy over these last months they had been spending together. The momma bear inside her raged at the person who had hurt her precious angel. It felt like she had only just fallen asleep when she heard the cries on the baby monitor by her bed. She rolled out of bed with a groan and shuffled her way over to the nursery. When the door opened, Jimmy’s crying stopped, and a smile spread on his face at the sight of his Mommy. The smile quickly dropped as he saw his Mommy’s tired face. Her haggard, worried look frightened him, and he began to cry all over again. Mei, remembering how well babies can pick up on the emotions of their caregivers, tried to force a smile. It helped a little, but Jimmy was still sniffling when she put him on the changing table. She did her best not to let her emotions show as she changed him, but it was difficult. Once he was clean and dry, she sat him up on the table and put a hand against each cheek. Looking him in the eyes, she tried to portray how serious the situation was to him. “Jimmy, I know you’re having fun being Mommy’s baby, but I need you to try to be a big boy for a little bit. I need to talk to big Jimmy.” Jimmy could feel the intensity and the urgency in her gaze, and his adult self came to the forefront of his mind. “What is it, Mei? What’s happened? Is it your Mom?” Mei shook her head, a fresh tear running down her face. “It’s Joy, Jimmy. She’s in the hospital. She’s in the ICU in a coma. Someone attacked her last night and hurt her really badly. They’re concerned about internal bleeding and broken ribs. I got the call while you were asleep last night, and I’ve barely slept since. I was going to go down to the hospital to see her today. Do you feel like you can handle seeing her in her current condition, or would you rather not go?” Jimmy burst into tears. How could this have happened? He was going to lose not only a friend but the first woman who had ever loved him in a non-platonic way. There was no way he could not go to the hospital and say goodbye to his first love. “I want to see her. I want to say goodbye.” Mei hugged him tightly and rocked back and forth with him, patting his back. “Oh, Jimmy. Nobody said she was going to die. She’s just in a medically induced coma to help her recover. The doctors are taking very good care of her, I’m sure. Let’s get dressed, and then we’ll go to the hospital and see her.” She chose a more adult outfit for Jimmy today, since they would be going out in public. Once she finished getting dressed, they ate a quiet breakfast before heading to the garage. Both of them were a nervous mess, but Jimmy especially was going through it. With very little traffic on a Sunday morning, they made it to the hospital quickly. It took a bit of coaxing from Mei to get Jimmy out of the car, but eventually they made their way into the hospital lobby. The pair was escorted into the ICU to the room where Joy was being monitored. Before stepping into the room, Joy’s parents exited. Her mother had tear streaks from runny mascara, and her father’s eyes were red, like he had been crying as well. Mei introduced herself as one of Joy’s friends and introduced Jimmy as well. The arriving friends were given a warning of what they were about to see when they entered the room. The sight that awaited them was horrible. Seeing her tiny, frail body hooked up with different wires and tubes in her nose and mouth was horrible. What was even worse was seeing the deep purple bruises that covered her face and body. Her face was calm and showed no pain, thanks to the medically induced coma. The sight of her was too much for Jimmy, and he slipped back into headspace immediately and wailed. “Joy! Wake up, Joy! Jimmy needs you, no go! Mommy, help Joy! Joy have ouchies. Mommy kiss better!” Mei picked up the crying little one immediately, placing her arm underneath his butt, as his legs wrapped around her waist. She rocked him back and forth, bouncing him up and down. Grabbing the pacifier from the diaper bag that doubled as her purse, she placed it in Jimmy's mouth. Eventually, his crying slowed and turned into sniffles as he buried his face in his Mommy’s neck and fell asleep. The pair sat with Joy for most of the day, taking turns with her parents, and ignoring curious looks in their direction from the medical staff. They all ordered food to the room. They didn’t want to leave her. Jimmy even received a diaper change on the floor of the hospital room. Jimmy spent a lot of time snuggling into his Mommy’s neck, but would get fussy with boredom every once in a while. There were very limited toys in the diaper bag, but they did enough to keep him entertained. They were forced to leave when visiting hours ended and made a silent drive back home. Both of them are deep in thought. Jimmy is sitting in his car seat, sucking on his pacifier, and Mei is keeping her eyes on the road. The sullen silence hung over them when they got back to the apartment as well. That night, Jimmy slept in Mei’s bed. He didn’t want to be away from his Mommy right now. The next morning, Jimmy was still in headspace as they made their way to the hospital. They had only been there for about an hour when the doctor came into the room and looked at the four people sitting by the bedside. “Are you her family?” Mei was the first to answer. “These folks over here are her parents, I’m just a friend, and this is her boyfriend.” When Jimmy was introduced as Joy’s boyfriend, the doctor raised an eyebrow in astonishment. Sitting on the woman’s lap appeared to be a very large thirteen-year-old boy wearing a diaper and sucking on a pacifier. He held his tongue and proceeded to inform them of Joy’s condition. “Well, her injuries were significant. She suffered a concussion, lacerations to the head and arms, three broken ribs, severe bruising of the body, including her bladder, and a punctured lung. She was just lucky that someone scared off her attacker, or she might not have made it. We don’t believe she should have any lasting damage. You can never be sure until they wake up. I would warn about the risk of temporary incontinence with the bruising to her bladder, but since it seems that she’s already incontinent, that’s not necessary. The good news is, she’s out of the woods. We’ve upgraded her condition to stable, and will be moving her out of the ICU this afternoon. Once we’ve moved her into her new room, we will be waking her out of her coma to assess the possibility of brain damage. Also, do you know if her incontinence is a recent issue? We have no mention of it in her medical records. She arrived wearing a very soiled diaper, which was a bit surprising given her medical history shown on her chart.” Mei smiled to herself a bit. Joy would likely be mortified when she found out about the doctors' finding out that she was incontinent, especially if they ever found out it was by choice. Diane was the one to answer this time. “She has been in diapers full-time since she was seventeen, and was wetting the bed before that. So, that would be six years she’s been incontinent.” The doctor seemed satisfied with that answer. “Well, perhaps she had been able to hide it from her Primary Care Physician somehow. Anyway, it’s noted in her records now. I’ll have a nurse show you to her new room, and they will bring her down shortly.” Right on cue, an older nurse popped her head through the door. She made small talk with Mei as they walked down the halls of the hospital, cooing at Jimmy now and then. Every time, Jimmy would just hide his face in Mei’s shoulder. His shyness elicited light chuckles of amusement from the grown-ups. As they approached Joy’s new room, the conversation dropped. Standing outside the room were two figures, detectives’ badges hanging from their belt loops. The nurse made her exit, leaving the two detectives to their business. “Excuse us, would you happen to be the friends and family of Joy Watkins by chance?” The female detective was the one to speak, keeping her voice low after seeing what appeared to be a sleeping child in Mei’s arms. She looked at the back of Jimmy and smiled faintly at what she figured must be a special needs child based on the clear diaper and pacifier clip attached to his shirt. She was doing her best not to spook the child of this potential witness, which is why she took the lead for this interview. In her experience, her partner’s slightly cold demeanor could frighten some children. When Mei nodded in answer to her question, she introduced herself and her partner. “Well, I’m Detective Montoya, and this is Detective Bullock. We were hoping to ask you a few questions about your daughter and friend, and if you had any knowledge that could help in our investigation. If we can take a moment of your time, please, let's take a seat in the chairs here. I imagine carrying your little one constantly can get pretty tiring.” Detective Bullock escorted the parents into the hall to begin his interview. It was better to separate everyone so that any inconsistencies could be pointed out later. If they couldn’t confer with each other, they couldn’t all come up with the same answers. He closed the door and escorted the parents to an empty room across the hallway. Still in the room, Detective Montoya motioned to two chairs that had been placed inside the room. Mei sat down in the padded chair, and the detective sat across from her in a folding chair that had been brought in earlier. The detective removed a recording device from her pocket and held it to her mouth. “This is Detective Renee Montoya. The time is currently 11:30 in the morning on August 11th, 2029. I’m currently sitting with a friend of the victim, Joy Watkins. If you could please introduce yourself and indicate your relationship to the victim. As for the boy, ma’am, it’s your choice if you wish to enter the Minor child sitting on your lap into the record.” Mei smiled faintly at the continued belief that Jimmy truly was a child. “My name is Mei Watanabe, and I am a friend of Joy’s and an occasional provider of goods and services. In my arms is Jimmy Dalton, her boyfriend.” If Detective Montoya was surprised by this, she had a very good poker face. After acknowledging the people in front of her were speaking of their own free will, she got started. Her first few questions centered on where Mei and Jimmy were last night, what they were doing, and if there was anyone who could corroborate their alibi. Mei told the truth, that they had been in her apartment together watching TV. No, nobody else could place them there. The next set of questions revolved around Joy’s personal life, her romantic life, and her friends. Could they think of anyone who might have a grudge against Joy? Did you owe money to anyone? Any jilted lovers wanting payback for a bad breakup? Mei gave what information she knew. They had only been friends for a few months. No grudges, no debts, and no jilted lovers that she knew about. She had Jimmy turn around and face the detective, and do his best to answer the same questions, as he had known her longer. Jimmy didn’t really have anything to add. He didn’t really understand what was going on, just that his friend Joy was hurt. The Detective smiled at him, but he was still feeling upset after seeing Joy and hid in his Mommy’s neck. Detective Bullock came back into the room as his partner finished with her interview. The detectives thanked them for their time, breaking off the interview as Joy was wheeled into the room. Detective Bullock gruffly asked the nurse when they would be able to speak to the victim, and was informed that she likely wouldn’t be up for facing questions until tomorrow at the earliest. Bullock, not thrilled with this answer and having to make a second trip to the hospital, stalked out of the room. Detective Montoya stayed back for a moment, stepping to Mei and whispering in her ear. “Your little boy is adorable. You’re a lucky Mommy! When this case is over, my little girl needs a playmate. Perhaps we can organize a play date?” The Detective handed Mei a card with her personal number written on it, shook Mei’s hand, and thanked her for the help. Mei received and quickly tucked it away for later. She had not been expecting the detective to be into Age Play. Once she left, her focus shifted back to Joy as the nurses were working around her. The doctor joined them shortly after the detectives left. The doctor ordered the nurses to push the medication and wake Joy from her coma. It was not immediate, but after about thirty minutes, Joy finally began to stir. Fifteen minutes later, her eyes began to flutter open and closed rapidly. One of the nurses looked over to Mei, standing back by the chair so as not to be in anybody’s way. “You can step over here. It might do her some good to see a friendly face when she wakes up. She’s going to be very disoriented and will likely panic as her last memories are of trauma.” Mei carefully approached the bed, still holding Jimmy, who was now asleep in her arms. She stood next to the bed, holding Joy’s hand with her free hand. She began to make soothing rubbing motions on the back of Joy’s hand and positioned herself to be the first thing Joy would see. Fifteen minutes later, Joy finally opened her eyes and kept them open. As predicted, she immediately panicked and began to thrash back and forth in the bed to escape the hand that had captured hers. The nurses held her down so she would not hurt herself, and Mei brought her face close to Joy once again. Joy finally seemed to see Mei and began to calm down. She stopped thrashing and immediately burst into tears. “Mommy! Mommy, it hurt! I hurt! Bad man hurt Joy. Bad man wan hurt Jimmy.”

Hi folks! This is my next big, "serious" novel after the Briana novels. I hope you enjoy the story of a new girl who finds herself in the ABDL community. It's full of feels just like my Briana stories, but Sarita is a very different Little. ----- 1 In a little New England city that was notable for it’s toy stores, unusual Greek societies, and sturdy changing tables in public restrooms; Sarita Castro was having a terrible day in the fakest clothing store in the world. GrrlPower advertised itself as selling clothes for women of every shape. What they actually did was carry one extra size, bringing their selection all the way up to size 14. The interior design of the store and its advertising was just as ‘edgy’, with one more splash of color than one of those ‘stogy’ brands would dare to put on. In the store’s office, even that thin layer of attitude was stripped away. It was the most corporate, low rent, fluorescent-lit place Sarita had ever seen. The cubicle wall that held up her boss’s desk was yellowed from what Sarita hoped was age. That desk was covered in stacks of motivational posters, old meeting agendas, and procedure binders to micromanage every aspect of working in the store. “You know the mission statement Sarita, I know you do. Let’s say it together.” Britt, her manager, said. “To create trend-hitting clothing and accessories that empower women’s inner worlds, while giving back to our community.” Sarita said listlessly, horrified as always that this was something taking up precious space in her brain. “Come on, be passionate about it!” Britt said. “We have to live our mission statement, or it’ll never come true.” “I’m on board.” Sarita said, forcing a smile. There was absolutely no chance of the mission statement coming true, no matter how much Britt or anyone else worshipped it. Sarita had never seen a single item in the store that matched current trends. Every outfit was bland and inoffensive. If there were any women who’s inner worlds were empowered by GrrlPower’s clothing line, Sarita hoped that they got some professional help, soon. “I know you say you’re on board, but I’m not seeing one hundred and ten percent from you.” Britt said. “This is the third time we’ve talked about this. We need positivity and energy in the front. You can do this, you were such a bright spark when we hired you! Can you commit to bringing that GrrlPower energy to work tomorrow?” “Yeah, I can do it.” Sarita said. She stretched her fake smile into a grimace. Britt never noticed how bad her smile was. Her boss’s own smile was even worse. It looked nice, but never reached her eyes. “I believe in you, but I have to put this down as a verbal warning at this point. Two more of those and I’ll have to put you on a Performance Improvement Plan, understand?” “I’ve got it.” “Okay, then it’s a fresh start tomorrow. You can head out. Don’t worry about clocking out, I clocked you out before our conversation started.” Sarita bit her lip to keep a scream or a sob down. She wasn’t sure which one was threatening to come out, but either one would get her a second written warning right now. There wasn’t any point in complaining about having her time illegally cut either. That’d be a trip straight to the PIP. She collected her purse from the locker and sighed at the coffee stain on her sweater and pants. They were the two best pieces of work attire she had. The last customer of the day had managed to hit both of them when she spilled her coffee across the counter. Sarita hadn’t even yelled at her. Simply checking the woman out unenthusiastically had earned Sarita the write-up. Out on the street, Sarita jogged a few steps away from the staff door. For a couple of months now she’d been shifting automatically into a run as soon as she left work. Something in her body needed to get away from there as quickly as possible. Me too body, me too. Sarita thought. Checking her bank balance was depressing, but necessary. Sarita needed something to keep this day from ending with her sobbing into her pillow. As usual, that something would be a drink at the Plush Pony. The number Sarita’s phone showed said she could have one drink, or one nice drink and one cheap one if she skipped breakfast and coffee tomorrow. Sorry, future-Sarita. She thought. I need this. The smell of stale beer and fried food smelled more like home than home did, these days. Sarita wound her way through the nervous first-timers at the door and around the hardcore players clustered around the bar’s single, dingy pool table. Her seat was open at the bar. It was, sadly, the first thing that had gone right that day. “Tough day, kiddo?” asked Ineis. Sarita rolled her eyes at the bartender. Ineis never let her forget she was the bar’s youngest regular. It didn’t help that Ineis was old enough to be Sarita’s mom, or that she’d lived through all kinds of intense gay struggle stuff that Sarita was glad she didn’t have to deal with. “I’m twenty three in two months.” Sarita said. “And yeah, it was horrible.” “I haven’t seen a face that sad on you since you broke up with…” “We don’t say her name.” Sarita folded her arms on the bar and laid her head on them. “That wound has got to close some day mija.” Ineis said, ruffling Sarita’s hair. “No it doesn’t. Give me a fishbowl beer.” Sarita said grumpily. Stupid Ineis. Now on top of everything else she was thinking about Felisa. The girl that had burned down both a taco truck and Sarita’s desire to date. Felisa had said after both disasters that it was an accident, but that didn’t help the Espina family or Sarita’s heart. Ineis slid over a small fishbowl that held about a glass and a half of beer. Sarita took a big gulp and sighed. “I’m not supposed to say this to regulars, but I worry about you, Sarita. Don’t drown your sorrows too much, okay?” “I only have money for this and one fancy drink tonight.” Sarita said. “Can’t get blitzed even if I wanted to.” “That plus one drink is a lot for you, depending on what you order. Be careful, okay?” “I will.” Sarita looked up at Ineis and smiled softly. “Thanks for looking out for me.” “Somebody has to. A mí me toca.” Ineis said. “There’s a lot of new people in the bar tonight. Folks that you haven’t blown off yet. You could try your luck with somebody to laugh with.” “I’m just here to look, no hablar ni tocar.” Sarita said, taking another gulp of her fishbowl. “Official Plush Pony birdwatcher, huh?” Ineis winked. “Please don’t tease too much today.” Sarita said. It came out more pitifully than she’d intended. “I’m sorry mija.” Ineis leaned over the bar and squeezed Sarita’s arm. “I’ve got thirsty people at the other end of the bar but I’ll come back and chat with you later, okay?” Sarita nodded. Another gulp of her beer went down fast. It was a ‘gulp and wait a while’ beer for sure. Volume was the draw on the fishbowls. While she waited for that to settle, Sarita’s gaze wandered across the bar. There were some new people for sure. Two very distinct groups of them. Rowdy butch girls had taken over the dance floor. Some more femme girls were set up at one of the Pony’s few tables. Lots of pretty new ladies at a nice safe distance. Best of all, they weren’t paying attention to anything outside their groups. Sarita could gaze dreamily at them without the worry of being caught staring. The nice view and Sarita’s stress had her packing away the fishbowl faster than she’d ever finished one. Sarita knew better than to order another drink right away. She wasn’t going to become one of those regulars. Munching on peanuts in her little corner of the bar, Sarita let the music carry Britt’s words away. When both groups of newcomers gathered for a trip to the bar, Sarita flagged Ineis down. It was either get her fancy drink now or wait for ages for the newbies. A beautiful Chardonnay Slushie slid up to her in short order. Sarita took a moment to admire her drink and let the anticipation build. If she was giving up breakfast and coffee for the little golden treasure in front of her, she wasn’t going to gulp it down right away. The bar was suddenly swarming with people. Sarita congratulated herself on her timing. One point for the ‘birdwatcher’. It sounded like some of the new people were pretty drunk already, as were a few of the regulars. In an effort to stay in her happy place, Sarita tuned them out as best she could. A text on her phone had Sarita thumbing it open excitedly. It wasn’t a friend, it was Britt, telling Sarita that her schedule was changed, again. Instead of an nice quiet Thursday shift tomorrow, she had to work a pair of doubles on the weekend. She shoved her phone in her back pocket, not caring that Britt would be annoyed when she didn’t respond. Sarita picked up her frozen drink and tried to forget her boss. There was a shout at the bar and a ripple of people. Sarita turned her head just in time to see that group of femme girls coming at her like a wave. Already falling themselves, they swiped Sarita off her barstool. She landed hard, her head bouncing off the Pony’s gummy hardwood. Someone had landed on her, with another body falling on top of them. I can’t breathe! Sarita realized, panicking. She thrashed and managed a shrill squeak, but the crushing weight didn’t budge. Desperately, she clawed at the person on top of her. That moved the weight from Sarita’s chest to her hips. She gasped, watching the bar ceiling spin above her with a sick feeling. Lots of people were shouting. Someone getting up with their foot on Sarita’s ankle. She screamed. Ineis was shouting the loudest. The bartender was suddenly in Sarita’s vision, roughly hauling a woman off of her. “Are you okay? Sarita, are you hurt?” “Owww.” Sarita whimpered. She looked down at herself. Her ankle felt sore and her whole torso felt bruised. There was a wet patch on her crotch that she didn’t remember happening, but was an all-too-familiar feeling from elementary school. Worst of all, her pretty drink was splashed all over her already-stained sweater. It was too much. Sarita burst into tears. She had nothing left to hold back with. Everything was awful, and it was going to stay that way. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry but I have to deal with the assholes that started pushing. Do you need medical attention?” “I duh-don’t think so.” Sarita said, shaking her head. “I’m ju-just banged up.” “Okay, shout out if that changes.” Ineis said. She was abruptly gone from Sarita’s vision. Her voice rang through the bar, as angry as Sarita had ever heard her. “HEY! Where do you think you’re going? You in the jacket, and you in the vest, get your asses over here. You forget that I have your cards for your tab? You can deal with me right now, or you can deal with the damn cops!” Sarita whimpered and rubbed her head. There was a nice big bump developing. Someone crouched down next to her and offered a hand. “Hey, I’m super sorry that I fell on you. I tried to get out of the way but it happened too fast. Are you okay?” Sarita took the hand and gingerly climbed to her feet. Her ankle felt like crap, but it didn’t seem broken. The lady in front of her was almost as mussed as she was. Somebody had fallen on the both of them, Sarita remembered. Her collision buddy had come in wearing a cool white dress with tattoo designs on it. It was all smudged now, with a red blotch from somebody’s drink. She had a mass of tight curls that had framed her head in an A shape. They were smushed on one side now and dusty. “Thanks, not your fault.” “Are you really okay? You hit your head bad. I heard the thump.” The lady winced. “Yeah I guess. Just a horrible day.” Sarita said, slumping on her barstool. Fresh tears followed the tracks down her cheeks. “I’m really sorry. My name’s Nohemi, by the way. Can I replace your drink at least?” “I’m Sarita. You don’t have to do that, it wasn’t your fault.” “I know that. Can I do it anyway if I want to?” “Okay.” Sarita said in a small voice. More than anything she wanted to get away from the bar, change out of her soiled clothes – especially the pants – and curl up under her covers. Unfortunately, her ankle wasn’t going to cooperate with that plan for a while. “What’d you have?” “Chardonnay Slushie.” Sarita said, blushing. “I know it’s a girly…” “Oh I saw that one on the menu, it looked tasty.” Nohemi said. “I’ll grab the bartender when she’s done yelling at those idiots.” “Thanks. So uh, do you live nearby? I haven’t seen you in the Pony before and it’s mostly locals that drink here.” “I heard about it from a friend actually, she said it was a cool queer bar.” “It usually is.” Sarita said, wincing. “We were just stopping here on our way to a club actually. You want to come with us?” “Oh no, that’s okay.” Sarita said quickly. “I don’t want to butt in on your thing, plus I have to change out of these clothes.” “We wouldn’t mind, promise. I see your point about the clothes though. It looks like you got splashed good. You don’t have to wait for me to buy you a drink if you want to head home. I’ll get you another time, promise.” “I would but my ankle kind of hurts. What about you? Are you okay? Your dress got splashed too.” “I’m not hurt. The stain on my dress sucks, but I can’t bail on tonight. This club is only open one night a month.” “What kind of club is it?” “It’s for alternate sexualities mostly. They have BDSM and swingers but the majority of the people are queer folks. It’s called Green Fairy ALC, for alternate lifestyle community. I don’t get a chance to go every month, so I’m super excited for tonight.” Sarita looked at Nohemi and considered. It sounded potentially cool, but just as potentially scary. Nohemi looked so excited, it was hard not to pick up on that a little. Behind Nohemi, things were settling down in the bar. The other two girls that had come in with Nohemi sidled up to her. “Hey Mimi, who’s your friend?” “This is Sarita.” Nohemi said. “Sarita, this is Julieta and Oriana.” “Hi.” Sarita said shyly. “Nice to meet you.” Julieta said. “We’re going to bounce, Mimi.” “Okay, no problem. I owe Sarita a drink, but I’ll catch up with you at the club as soon as I make good on that.” “Girl, we got trampled. We’re headed home.” Oriana said. “But, it’s only once a month that it’s open. I know that was a bad situation…” “Hemi, no. We love you, girl, but we’re sore, dirty, and my blouse is torn. Next month, okay?” “Yeah, okay.” Nohemi said, with a strained smile. “Be careful on the way home.” “You too. Don’t get run over in here again either.” Julieta said. Both girls hugged Nohemi and waved to Sarita. Nohemi watched them go with a sigh. “I’m kind of over the drink at this point.” Sarita said. “I think I’m going to head home too.” “You’re a regular here, right?” Nohemi said. “I’ll be back. I really will buy you that drink, promise.” “You don’t have to, but thanks.” Sarita said. She slid off her barstool and winced when her ankle met the floor. “Can I walk you back to your apartment at least? I’m not a creeper, I swear. I don’t have to come inside, but that looks painful.” “It’s really not necessary.” Sarita sad, gingerly testing her weight. Her ankle was very upset at the moment, but it’d be fine in an hour. “I’m literally the one that stepped on your ankle.” Nohemi said. “The least I can do is offer a shoulder to lean on.” “Okay, yeah.” Sarita said. They made their way out past Ineis, who looked like she was about two seconds away from calling the police. Nohemi had her arm around Sarita’s ribs and was providing some nice solid support on her right side. It felt odd to be touching someone so much. Sarita hadn’t realized how touch-starved she was. Though her ankle was feeling better after the first block of walking, she held on to Nohemi until they reached her building. “You could come up if you want.” Sarita said. “I don’t know if I have anything that’ll get that stain out, but we could give it a shot.” “You sure? I’m not trying to hit on you…” “I’m not either.” Sarita said quickly, blushing. Wetting her pants and getting a sympathy shoulder on the walk home was not her normal pickup technique. “I know you’re excited about that club, but it sucks to go with a stain on your dress.” “Thanks, really. I’ll take you up on it!” It was an awkward elevator ride up to Sarita’s fourth floor apartment. Thankfully the apartment wasn’t a disaster. Not that anything was put away, of course, but there weren’t any dirty dishes or takeout containers out. “This is my place.” Sarita said with a shrug. “It’s just the room here, bedroom over there, and bathroom there. All the stuff I’ve got for stains is in the bathroom. Use whatever you want. I’m going to be in the bedroom for a sec to change.” “You sure you don’t need the bathroom? I know you got a drink spilled on you, but you um – have some potty issues too, it looks like.” Sarita coughed, choking on her own spit. “You – I didn’t realize you picked up on that. Um – yeah, give me a second.” “Take your time, it’s okay.” Sarita scurried to the bedroom, grabbing the first halfway-coherent outfit she could find in her dresser. In the bathroom, she stripped down and checked herself out. No bruises, not yet at least. Even her ankle wasn’t too swollen. Counting herself lucky, Sarita wiped herself down with a wet towel and dressed. “Bathroom is all yours.” Sarita said, dumping the bundle of dirty clothes on the pile of laundry in her living room corner. “Thanks! I’ll try to be fast.” It seemed weird to turn on the TV, which left Sarita sitting on her couch, trying not to think about the fact that there was a naked girl in her bathroom. A cute one too. A cute girl that’s not interested in you. Sarita reminded herself. Nohemi is being nice, way nicer than she needs to be. She doesn’t need to be creeped on. Even IF there had been a chance with Nohemi, wetting herself in front of the girl had blown all that out of the water. Sure, it had happened under pretty extreme circumstances, but Sarita didn’t think there were a bunch of lesbians out there, hot for girls with pee in their pants. “Managed to mostly salvage it!” Nohemi said, stepping out of the bathroom. The red blotch on the tattoo-dress had become a very light pink smudge. If you didn’t know it was a stain, it’d be easy to miss it among all the wild colors in the dress’s pattern. “Nice! You still going to the club then?” “Yeah.” Nohemi said determinedly. “I wasn’t looking forward to going alone, but there’s no way I’m passing it up. It’s been three months since the last time I was able to make it.” “I could go with you, if you still want.” Sarita said. The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was doing. Immediately, she curled up on the couch, cursing her impulsive tongue. “Really?” Nohemi asked, excitedly. “Yeah, if you want to that would be awesome. You even have a great outfit for it.” Sarita looked down at herself. Her random pick of clothes had put her in leggings, a long button up blouse, and a miniskirt. It’d pass for club wear, sort of. The whole idea was so stupid, she wished she hadn’t said anything to Nohemi. The girl looked so excited now, Sarita couldn’t bear to disappoint her. The club seemed interesting anyway. Sarita had never heard of it, but she wasn’t much of a club scene person, never mind alternative lifestyle clubs. It’d be nice to meet some queer women who didn’t know her as the Taco-Truck-Fire Girlfriend. “Yeah, let’s do it.” Sarita said, picking up her purse. “Oh uh, but how much is the cover? I sort of blew my budget on drinks tonight.” “The cover is on me. As is at least one drink.” Nohemi said firmly. “I owe you for a spilled drink and a sore ankle still.” Sarita hesitated. Nohemi didn’t really owe her for that stuff. It felt like mooching when Sarita knew she wouldn’t be able to afford going on her own. Still, the offer seemed genuine and she didn’t have work tomorrow. The weekend was going to suck, maybe tonight was still salvageable. “Okay. Thank you.” “My pleasure. It’s been a crazy night. Let’s try to have some fun!” ----- The Green Fairy was nothing much to look at from the outside, just a set of stairs descending to a basement door. The sign was only a couple of feet across, though pretty cute up close. The ‘fairy’ was a drag queen done up in a green dress and loud green hair. Whoever had designed it had done a good job, AND had been allowed to be creative. A rare combination in her experience. Not that she’d sold any designs, yet. The first thing the club presented them with inside was the bar. A wide open area with a be-tabled sunken space dominated the room. The bar was at the back. It looked generic enough, except for the high number of collars or leather-wear on the people at the tables. Double-doors were set evenly along the side walls, each with a neon-lit icon next to it, presumably indicating what kind of space you’d be entering. The handcuff sign was obvious enough, as was the swing. Sarita thought she had an idea of what the horse icon meant, but someone was going to have to explain the mermaid and – the teddy bear? “The bar is pretty clear, let’s get you that drink first.” Nohemi said. “You’re kind of obsessed with that.” Sarita said bemusedly, as Nohemi lead her by the hand around the table area. “I don’t like to cause people trouble and not make up for it.” The Green Fairy didn’t have a chardonnay slushie, but they did have a raspberry daiquiri. The first sip through the straw soothed Sarita’s soul. Nohemi was drinking something hardcore looking, that involved a burnt orange peel and some smoke. It was brown and therefore sure to be bitter. “Have you been here a lot?” Sarita asked. “Not as much as I want, but as much as I can.” Nohemi said. “It’s really quiet right now, we’re here a little early.” Sarita checked her phone and groaned. She’d been too frantic when she was changing, to notice the spiderweb of cracks on the screen. No wonder one side of her butt was more sore than the other. “Huh? Oh no, is that from when I knocked you over? Don’t worry, I’ll…” “Don’t you dare.” Sarita said. “I really appreciate everything you did so far, but nothing that happened was your fault. It’s on those jerks that started pushing.” “I’m taking responsibility for your ankle at least.” Nohemi said. “Fine, but my ankle is not my phone.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t had a cracked screen before.” “Alright.” Nohemi said. “I guess I’ll let that one go. I’m going to insist on being your friend though, unless that makes it too weird.” See? She just wants to be friends. Sarita smiled at Nohemi. “I could use a friend. I lost all of mine in the taco truck fire incident.” “Oh now you have to tell me about that.” “I want to start out by saying that I don’t think all my exes are crazy. Felisa legitimately needs medication or something, though.” “Felisa wasn’t very feliz, huh?” “Oh no. You make puns.” Nohemi laughed, drawing a giggle out of Sarita. That felt good. A friend would be good. You could survive all kinds of bad stuff with a friend in your corner. Sarita related the rest of the story of Felisa’s rampage starting with the Valentine’s Day date that turned into a bar-crawl. “Wait, she broke into the taco truck while on a date – to make food for you?” “She wanted to make my favorite tacos, right then. I think she thought it was super romantic. We were both really drunk. I still knew it was a bad idea, but I was too wasted to stop her. I don’t get that drunk anymore.” “Good.” Nohemi shook her head. “And then she caught the whole thing on fire?” “Started a grease fire, sprayed water on it… yeah. She got out before she got seriously hurt, and I called the fire department. They couldn’t save the truck though. Felisa ended up giving the Espinas basically all her money and moving to California.” “Wow. That beats my worst breakup story, hands down.” “I’m a winner.” Sarita said, twirling her finger lethargically in the air. “I want to hear more stories, but I need to pee. Watch my drink for me?” “Course.” Sarita said with a smile. After watching Nohemi long enough to see where the bathroom was, Sarita pulled her phone out to assess the damage. It was still functional, thankfully. Maybe she could try to barter some graphic design work for the phone repair shop under her apartment. Their sign was really ugly. Movement at one of the double-doors caught Sarita’s eye. A woman emerged from the teddy-bear door. She didn’t look weird at all, or even dressed up in fetish stuff. If anything, she was dressed like somebody’s mom, in a dark blue dress with floral print on it. The way her hips moved was mesmerizing. She had that silver-age-of-movies figure going on. When the woman met Sarita’s eyes, she realized she’d been caught staring. Quickly, Sarita ducked her head and focused on her phone. “Is there someone already sitting with you, or did you get two drinks to save time?” Sarita looked up, then further up, past the floral-dress woman’s ample chest to her pretty green eyes. “Yeah, my friend is in the bathroom.” “Just a friend? Do you mind if I sit?” Is she hitting on me? What even is this night? Sarita licked her lips. Realizing that she’d already let an awkward amount of time pass, she stammered, “G-go ahead. I’m Sarita.” “Thank you. I’m Astra.” Even the way that Astra sat was elegant. Sarita jerked her eyes up from those hips and back to Astra’s eyes. “First time at the Green Fairy? I think I’d have noticed you if you’d been here before.” Oh shit I think she IS hitting on me! Sarita blushed and tried smoothing down her hair. It was a messy bob at the best of times, she was sure it looked like a wreck that night. “Yeah, I hadn’t even heard of it before tonight. You must be a regular.” “Right on the first try.” Astra said with a wink. “What brought you in? I know the club intimidates a lot of people.” “I don’t know. I was having the worst day today, met someone, and she invited me here. It seemed interesting I guess.” “Oh no, what happened today?” “It was a whole thing with work and a big disaster at my regular bar. I don’t want to dump all my drama on you.” “It’s not drama. You look frazzled. Tell me all about it.” Hesitantly, Sarita told Astra about getting chewed out at work. Astra didn’t look bored at all. She was paying attention with a really kind expression. Encouraged, Sarita spilled some more background information on the job. Astra was still listening and offering encouraging comments. Taking a good look at Astra, Sarita was pretty sure they were close to the same age. For sure Astra had to be under thirty. It was hard to believe with how strong her caring vibes were. It was like talking to a sympathetic aunt. A really hot aunt in a low cut dress. In a rush, Sarita got the rest of the evening out. She even mentioned wetting herself before she realized what she was doing. That only accelerated the pace of her story. Sarita hoped she could pile enough words on that fact to bury it. By the time Nohemi was back at the table, Astra had Sarita’s right hand clasped in hers, and the story was done. “Hi Nohemi! I didn’t realize you were here with Sarita.” Nohemi looked at the two of them and blinked. It was a complicated expression, Sarita couldn’t read it. She hoped that Nohemi didn’t feel ditched. “I didn’t realize you were here tonight, we’d just gotten here. You’re sneaky, Astra.” “She just came over to say hi and I spilled my guts about my whole evening to her. Thanks for listening even if it wasn’t very interesting, I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.” Sarita babbled. “It sounds like you’ve both had a hard night.” Astra said. “Yeah, all kinds of stuff hasn’t gone the way I expected.” Nohemi said, taking a seat and a sip of her drink. “I can go if you two wanted to have a private evening.” Astra said. “No, it’s not like that, we’re friends. Well, super new friends but, friends, right?” Sarita winced at the sheer cringe that was falling out of her mouth. What was wrong with her tonight? Had she just forgotten how to talk to people? “Yeah, we’re friends.” Nohemi said with a smile. It looked like a genuine smile. Sarita sighed in relief. “And you two are friends, or I guess you know each other at least?” “Yeah, I’ve known Nohemi for a couple of years now, I think. You’ve been coming to the club for at least that long, haven’t you?” “It’s almost three now.” Nohemi said. “Time flies.” “Dios mío, I’m such a newbie.” Sarita said. “Will you keep me from doing anything stupid?” “Of course, hon.” Nohemi and Astra said in unison. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. The last of the lingering tension at the table cleared with the echoes of their laugh. The rest of the evening was boring by club standards, but Sarita was in heaven. They talked about everything, the news, the city, queer women’s local gossip, silly sex jokes, and food. Sarita couldn’t believe how much she’d been missing hanging out with friends. Not that it was purely friendly with both women. Astra kept finding excuses to touch Sarita’s hand on the table, her foot underneath, or her shoulder. At the end of the night, when Astra plucked some probably-imaginary fluff off Sarita’s shoulders, she felt like calling the other woman out. Yes, I get it! I’m picking up your signals and my motor is running! Astra was gorgeous and funny and didn’t seem to have a flatlined bank account. Sarita had no idea why the blonde woman was hitting on her so hard. She wasn’t questioning it, though. Sarita made sure that Astra had her number at the end of the night, giving it to Nohemi as well as a cover. Though that wasn’t exactly fair. Nohemi was awesome too. If she’d really managed to pick up a new friend and a date in the same night, Sarita was going to have to stop calling it the worst day ever. A check of her shattered phone showed it was well after midnight. Maybe that meant yesterday was the worst day ever. Today could be the awesome day. With her worries temporarily out of mind and no work that day, Sarita let herself skip home.

Looking for people to show and teach me curious with diapers in Perth wa

when I'm pooping now and I give it a little push I'm uncontrollable dribbling every time I do it now.

I've been properly committed 24/7 for pee's and poo's for a few months now and honestly this time feels different then all the other times I've gone 24/7. I'm in the acceptance stage now. I had a lot of hang ups about what people would think if they knew I was wearing nappies but I realised wearing nappies isn't a big deal, like wearing glasses. Nobody cares. With my wetting it's progressed from wetting at the slightest urge with wobbles like reflexly sphincter clenching to like I am now where I'm constantly dribbling in small amounts without any clenching. I still have bladder control but my bladder voids as soon as pee is in my bladder. My bladder capacity has shrunk so much smaller pee's. I wake up and pee and fall back to sleep.. My nappies hardly ever leak as nappies are really absorbent for constant dribbling, without the floods I used to get the padding near my belly Botton remains dry and the wettness channels to the back of the nappy and I really love feeling wet with a wet bottom.

Chapter 88: A Wake The rest of that afternoon and evening went about as I expected. I slept peacefully until about half past two; closer to a quarter till three. I might have even had some good dreams, though I couldn’t quite remember. It was a relief to sleep without worrying that a piece of Amazon tech was quietly conditioning me. Or having to listen to Billy and Chaz’s snoring. Very refreshing. Jessica came in and put the monitor back in its place. And I timed things right so that I wouldn’t have to choose between an aching bladder and sitting in a wet diaper until dinner. Janet got home about half an hour after and Jessica gave her the most basic of rundowns. She left out the not-quite-revelation she’d had before Barnaby’s and the diner incident after. She did mention that I’d only had a bottle of milk so far and that I should be hungry. My stomach agreed. Lastly, she presented the bags of new and stylish children’s clothes. Even said “Ta-da!” Janet seemed pleased, but sad at the same time. All those clothes were just a silver lining to a very dark cloud hovering over her. “Thanks,” Janet said. “You’re a good friend. I’ll call you tomorrow and talk about some stuff.” “You know it.” Jessica left and Janet’s walls came right back up. She found new places for the clothes to hang and new drawers to stuff. She cooked dinner with extra portions and let me feed myself with an extra large spoon. Gave me some time to myself, bathed me, and put me to bed. The entire time she was quiet. I imagined there were babysitter drones more talkative to her. So quiet. I tried once with an awkward, “How was your day, Janet?” “Good.” She said it in such a way that I felt afraid to ask any follow up questions. Damn it, why was I still trying with her? Fuck. I’d just finished my nightly ritual of a thousand Hate Janet’s and was settling in for the night. Sleep wouldn’t come, in part because of the extra long nap I’d had, so I just laid there and tossed and turned. Hoping to lose consciousness before my body told me that I wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep until I emptied something. My ears started to twitch and my eyes opened when I heard something unusual. Normally, if I heard anything, it’d be the muffled sound of the living room television just loud enough to know if it was on, and maybe if it went to commercial, but too indistinct to make out what Janet was actually watching. That was a best case scenario. Tonight, the television wasn’t on and I could hear the door being open and shut. I detected the faint echoes of a door being heavily shut and locked, and the sound of voices. I couldn’t hear the words, but the cadence was easy enough. Hello’s, how are you’s, and thanks for coming’s. Awkward transitionary small talk stuff. Rough day. Me too. Maybe something about eating or offering drinks. A polite refusal. That sort of thing. Their voices faded as they moved through the house, looking for somewhere to sit. I guessed that they were going to the kitchen. I would have been able to hear them slightly better if they were in the living room just at the far end of the hall. I was probably able to guess the rough basics of the introductions because of how well I knew both voices. I’d know them anywhere from almost any distance. There was Janet, of course. And…Beouf? What was Beouf doing here? I sat up and stood on the mattress, grabbing the bars. I leaned forward and closed my eyes in a pointless attempt to somehow increase the range of my hearing. Yeah, that wasn’t working. I was probably strong enough to climb up and out of the crib despite my widened gate and the tremendous mattress give, but I had no way to get back in when I was done eavesdropping If they were discussing punishment -and why wouldn’t they be- would it really be worth it to add to my mounting offenses? Part of me thought yes. In for a penny and all that. BEEEEP! My head whipped sideways to the baby monitor. It’d never done THAT before. Was it supposed to be some kind of motion detector or something? Something to alert or discourage me from getting out? Next gen blanket training? No. Impossible. I’d stood up in bed all the time. “- ease don’t call me that, Mrs. Beouf.” Janet’s voice cut in from the monitor. I slapped my hand over my mouth lest I scream. Was this happening? Was this really happening?! “Please,” Beouf’s voice rang in. “call me Melony, or Mel. Or at least Mrs. B. like the kids do.” It was happening. It was really happening. My two ex-friends were talking and I was able to listen in without lifting a finger. Janet had done the ultimate rookie parent blunder and installed the wrong end of the baby monitor in my room. I moved over to the foot of the crib and leaned closer so that I could hang on every word, every detail. Through the monitor I heard Janet exhale. The sound was that good. From the slight echo, I determined my guess was right. They were in the kitchen. “Fine, she huffed. “Please don’t call me his Mommy right now, Mel. I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right.” Her voice cracked a little bit with emotion. “He doesn’t even call me Mommy unless he wants something.” “But you are,” Beouf insisted. “You’re his Mommy and you’re doing your best.” I could just imagine Beouf sitting on an adjacent side of the kitchen table, reaching out and trying to comfort Janet by touching her arm or patting her shoulder. Then tentatively looking at the empty highchair like I was there. “My best isn’t good enough, Melony. It’s just not.” Janet sounded like she was on her way to a long heavy sob. Good, or so I told myself. “I’m not good enough.” Damn right. Beouf probably took Janet’s hands and folded them into her own. “Easy honey, I get it,” she said. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper, not that it avoided detection. “But keep it down. He’s sleeping. He might still be awake.” There in my crib, I let loose with a big, maniacal smile. They were talking about me. I’d suspected that they’d talked about me a lot and often. In this moment I could hear for myself, with nothing filtered out or added in for my supposed benefit. This was a rare kind of power to have. I was thrilling in it. “He won’t hear,” Janet said, regaining some composure. Little did she know. “He’s never once cried out. He’s a deep sleeper.” A sudden revelation came to me. If Janet had messed up and put the wrong end of the monitor in my nursery, then she hadn’t heard any of my whispered hates late at night. Not one. It also meant that I wasn’t being hypnotized by the monitor. Amazons bought into their own hype and were drowning in their own propaganda, Beouf in particular, but they’d never willingly mind fuck themselves with their own products. “That’s good at least,” Beouf accidentally echoed my own conclusion. “But that’s it,” I heard Janet moping. “That’s where it stops. And I’m a horrible Mommy and he knows it. That’s why he’s rejecting me.” Her tone had shifted into a kind of depressing deadpan. All of the desperation with eighty percent fewer volume. “And it’s not his fault, but it’s taking everything I can just to keep a straight face and not scream at him or cry or something.” “I know, Jan. I know.” I let out a quiet little, “Heh”, and kept listening. It was like I was back at a good old fashioned teacher to teacher bitching session. This time it just so happened to be about me. “At least he was good for my friend, Jessica,” my would-be Mommy sighed. “But that only makes it worse because he goes out of his way to be horrible to me. What did I do?” It was fortunate that I was across the house. I might have let her know. “No, he’s not rejecting you,” Beouf lied to the both of them, “He’s just got some big feelings and-” “Cut the bull, Melony,” Janet interrupted. “Nothing in those meetings or the pamphlets or anything like that is working.” There was silence. Beouf didn’t know what to say. I could just imagine her eyes going wide behind her glasses and her lips puckering like a fish out of water. Janet kept on. “He’s…I hate saying this, Mel, but he’s awful. He’s spiteful. He’s manipulative. He’s just mean.” There was a brief silence. Just a beat. “It’s like he goes out of his way to make everybody around him miserable and then claims that he’s an adult like it explains his behavior and should be rewarded.” “Yeah,” Beouf added a sigh to the conversation. “ I know. I know. Same with in class. I have to give him to Hana sometimes just to make it through the day. I think he likes her better now because he liked her less before.” And that’s how I learned Zoge’s first name. Also, honestly? Beouf was probably right on that part. “Zoge’s not a shock to him.” “Why, though?” I heard Janet sniffle. “Why are we ‘the shock?’” “It’s probably how he sees things, now,” Beouf said. “Amazons in general and us in particular.” I imagined she was shrugging ruefully in a what-can-you-do sort of way. “Sometimes Littles going through this spike can get aggressive. Especially to the people they knew before the flare up. They don’t care that they’re being taken care of or that the care is coming from a place of love and necessity. They just fixate on how they’re not all that mature anymore and make the real adults in their lives out to be evil. He’s acting out because he wants us to be the bad guys and thinks that acting like how he sees us will make him a Grown-Up again.” I found a pacifier and bit down in it as hard as I could so that I wouldn’t scream at the crock of shit Beouf had just spilled out of her mouth. Misplaced monitor or not, it wouldn’t do for me to scream out my frustrations and risk detection. How had I not seen this from Beouf before? Was I really that blind? Or was I just that in need of a social bodyguard and deliberately looked the other way? “That doesn’t make sense,” Janet said. I pointed directly at the monitor as if Janet might feel my acknowledgement of her point. ”Nope,” Beouf replied. “No it doesn’t. That’s Maturosis, sometimes. Littles with it don’t always make sense. Kids don’t always make sense. Doesn’t mean we refuse to help.” My hair was in my hands and I was tugging so hard I might have ripped it out. My impromptu I.E.P. discussion had turned into a faux doctor’s consultation, and the quack in question only had one diagnosis for everything. How convenient. How Typical. “Is it going to last forever? Is it always going to be this way? I want to be his Mommy, not his monster.” She sounded like a parishioner asking a high priest for guidance and forgiveness. All hail the church of the Little Voices… The faintest creak came across the monitor’s speakers, as if someone was leaning back in their chair. “I don’t think so,” Beouf said. “I think it’ll get better.” She sounded very sure of herself. “Why?” Janet said. I leaned forward, eager and terrified. What machinations did that bitch have up her sleeve? If I could predict, I could prepare. I could brace myself if not completely sabotage. “Clark is definitely turning into one of my most challenging cases,” my ex-mentor said with surety, “but he’s not the most challenging I’ve ever had.” “Who is? Or was?” Janet sounded like she was calming down, no longer on the verge of sobbing. A pity. She was being drawn into Beouf’s story as much as I was. Simultaneously I tried to scoff and hold my breath. Somewhere deep in my massive ego I was insulted that some poor mindfucked doll of Beouf’s past haunted her more than I did. Still, it could be fun to learn about the past. Maybe I could replicate or adapt a few things to up my game and figure out where my predecessor went wrong. “She was a Little girl I had a couple years ago,” Beouf said. “Named Amy.” My pacifier fell out of my mouth and I banged my forehead accidentally on the wooden bars. I reeled back and stumbled over my heels onto my rump. It was more from surprise than pain, but I was seeing stars. “Amy?!” Janet sounded as surprised as me. “Amy Madra?! That Amy?!” From the sound of things, Janet didn’t know whether to laugh with relief or laugh to call out Beouf’s claim.” “Yup.” I could practically hear Beouf nodding again. “She’s a sweet Little thing now but you have no idea how bad she was when she started out.” Beouf was right. I had no idea. Amy the nuisance and nutter? Amy the girl who had been crying in my time out all those years ago? Animal fact Amy? Eat gum off the floor Amy? That Amy? Little Voices Amy? Zoo Amy? My Amy? “You’re joking,” Janet said plainly. I stayed seated, worried that the crinkle of my movement might magically obscure whatever happened next. Beouf answered Janet with a question. “Are she and her Mommy still regulars at the Little Voices meetings? They got really into that, I remember.” “Yeah,” Janet said. She sniffled slightly. I thought I heard the tear of a paper towel. An improvised tissue. “Helena and I took them on a playdate to the zoo.” “Thought so.” Beouf sounded even more confident. “Just before she graduated she developed an attachment to one of my classroom stuffies. This purple octopus with a top hat. She named it Jessinnia. Clark used that name for it and I just knew. Darn near gave me flashbacks for a second.” “But she’s so sweet.” “Now she is,” Beouf let out a light chuckle. “It was rough at first. Very rough. Clark is a lion, but Amy was a dragon baby.” “That bad?” Janet’s disbelief and curiosity nearly mirrored my own. Our emotions, however, were likely inverses. She was gaining amusement and hope. I was swapping out mine for dread. Another creak. Beouf was getting more and more relaxed in the kitchen chair. “That bad and worse,” she said. “Did the same kind of stuff that Clark’s doing right now. Wound up the teachers and students with nonsense and mean-spirited games and tricks. Played innocent so that we kept giving her the benefit of the doubt.” Yeah….that was my playbook alright. The pacifier found its way back between my lips. I needed to do something to feel like I had some kind of control or autonomy. The pacifier was the only option at the moment. “One time,” Beouf continued, “she got eight other kids to all play ‘kitty-cat’ on the playground. They were just crawling around on the ground trying to rub up against Zoge’s and my legs and trip us up.” Holy crap! Why hadn’t I thought of that? That would have been such a great answer to the physical therapy conditioning and Chaz could have played, too. “Oh yeah?” A note of competitiveness crept into Janet’s words. “Did she gag herself with cinnamon?” Janet wanted me to be the worst kid. Beouf let out another quiet, slightly rueful chuckle. “Nope. Didn’t have to. She had a gluten allergy. All she had to do was steal a leftover grilled cheese that one of the other kids snuck to her and hide it in her diaper. Then she downed it and puked. I think Ivy tried to stop her and got bit for it. Such a mess. Got everywhere. Picture day, too.” My face was buzzing and burning. My breaths were getting deeper and slower like I was trying to stop myself breathing. My greatest act of rebellion, my masterstroke…was a repeat? A rerun? “Holy shit.” Janet’s voice was low and awestruck. “Do you think she told him to do it? They see each other almost every week.” “If she did,” Beouf told Janet, “I don’t think she did it on purpose or with any bad intent. She’s very happy and good as far as I know. It might not even be Amy. Clark might have heard me bitching about it back when it happened and tucked it away. Hard to say.” Incorrect. No, no, and no. False. I never knew or forgot about that and came up with the plan the night before. But was the act really mine, if it wasn’t original or if it was subconsciously inspired? “Amy didn’t try to get others in on it, though,” Beouf admitted. “Should have seen that coming.” That made me feel a bit better. “I slipped up and accidentally called him Gibson too. Sorry.” That made me feel ecstatic. Same plan but better was still better. “That’s not going to help things,” Janet moaned. “He probably thinks he’s closer to growing up or something.” “Probably.” “How’d you help Amy?” Janet asked. “What did the trick?” My jubilation died down. I needed to know and listen. If Amy was as bad as Beouf said she’d been and she was who she was now, what hope did I have of escaping that fate? An image of myself flashed across my mind: Gap toothed and drooling, crawling around aimlessly and content. Eating whatever I could find on the floor and calling Janet ‘Mommy’ unironically. I shuddered in revulsion at the very possibility. “No trick,” Beouf said. “Just patience, persistence, love, and boundaries. She kept escalating and escalating. Zoge and I kept containing and redirecting. Eventually, she just sort of burned herself out and she mellowed; started being a sweet baby. Took about half a year and then things started looking up. She was ready to graduate by the end of Spring. One of my biggest challenges but also one of my biggest success stories.” Amy? Give up? Burn out? That didn’t track at all. That wasn’t the nutter who had pestered me at every opportunity. Beouf was holding something back; had to be. “That doesn’t make any sense.” It was like Janet was reading my mind. “Wasn’t there some kind of ‘Aha’ Moment or lightbulb? For either of you?” “Not for her,” Beouf said. A slight jostling and a thud came over the monitor. One or both of them were leaning forward with their elbows on the table. “That’s just how Maturosis is sometimes. She and her Mommy had some kind of breakthrough and she’s been a sweetheart ever since. Shame about her teeth, though.” “Yeah,” Janet said. “What happened with that? Helena doesn’t seem like the type to do that level of cosmetics with a kid.” “Don’t know,” I pictured Beouf shaking her head. “All I remember is that Amy was out of school for a couple days and came back missing those teeth. I brought it up, but Mommy didn’t want to get them fixed. You’ll have to ask Helena for more than that.” I’d known Melony well enough to have a sense of when she was lying by omission. She was keeping something from Janet, but I didn’t think it was the teeth. “Of course,” she told Janet, “If you wanted to ask her, that would mean going to the meetings…” “Okay…fine.” A note of reluctant happiness had wormed its way back into Janet’s voice. “I’ll keep going to the stupid meetings. It’s just annoying because everyone is so cheery and they’ve already got their perfect happy little Littles that want to be themselves.I mostly keep quiet or hold back on what’s going on at home. Everybody else gets cute baby stories. I just feel inferior.” “Talk to Helena,” Beouf replied. “In private if you have to. I bet she’s got some stories for ya.” Stories I might want to hear, too. Could I potentially get the same info from Amy? I’d asked about her teeth before and it was the one time she got close to serious. “I kind of like the lap bounce songs and silly games, anyways.” Janet confessed. “I just wish Clark liked them, too.” “He might like them and not want to admit it,” Beouf took on a consoling approach. “He might not, though. Some kids don’t like that stuff and just want a quiet lap to rest in or for their Mommies and Daddies to watch them show off doing something silly. Maybe Clark is or was one of those kinds of kids the first time around.” “Right now,” Janet groaned, “he’s just a spiteful brat.” I blinked in surprise. That was one of the most honest things I’d heard from Janet Grange. “Janet,” Beouf said, “think about it. Clark’s always been kind of a brat. He’s always loved going up to Forrest or Brollish and poking the bear. He was always a cheeky brat with a bunch of maturity piled on top.” She added a dejected sigh to the air. “Now, all that adulthood has just sunk to the bottom and the brat has floated up to the top.” Janet echoed the sentiment. “Yeah. But he was our cheeky brat. I want him to be that cheeky brat, again. Not…not whatever this is.” I could almost make out her eyes getting all wistful just from how she said it. “He was a great teacher, too” Beouf started to sound annoyed and angry. “Better than that bitch Ambrose, that’s for sure. That woman is a disgrace. Now we can’t even hang out with Tracy most days. I hope she’s coping.” “Tracy’s tough. How did Ambrose even get that job?” “No clue,” I heard Beouf scoff. “Who knows where Brollish gets her pets? She’s definitely not a good teacher. Gods, I wish Clark had never been caught. I’d ignore a thousand missing diapers if it meant he was back in that classroom instead of her.” There was a silence that followed. It was less than a minute, but it felt long and uncomfortable; like Beouf had just said a quiet part out loud. It was a strange compliment for me to hear. Janet broke the silence. “Don’t tell anybody,” she almost whispered, “but… I still let him grade papers sometimes. My mother let me do that when I was a kid, too. I thought it might help bridge the gap or something. It’s one of the few things he still genuinely likes.” “Yeah. I figured you were. I recognize his handwriting and he’s initialing the assignments down at the bottom. Saw it on your desk the other day. “He’s sign…-? Janet’s voice leapt upwards in surprise. She lowered it back down. “You don’t think…? What if…? You know…? Brollish is gunning for him.” “I wouldn’t worry about it. Brollish doesn’t give a damn about basic assignments as long as you’re monitoring them and putting in the correct grades. You’ll be fine.” A grunt came through the monitor. “Devil woman is gunning for me, anyways. Not you. Bitch thought she could buy me off by approving grants and requests she’s been gumming up for years. Fuck her if she thinks she can tell me how to do my job.” “Fuck her in general.” “Amen, sister.” A light clinking of glasses. Beouf had agreed to a drink after all. “Okay,” Janet said. “Okay. What are we gonna do for Clark? Is there anything either of us is missing?” Yet another tired sigh found its way out of Beouf. “Hard to say. I’ve never known a Little before a flare up. That’s what makes all of this so hard. Some mornings I still have to fight the urge to want to sit with him and sip our morning coffee again and complain about nothing in particular.” Her tone fluctuated mid sentence like her nose was clogging. A paper towel tear pretty much confirmed it. “Me too.” Janet’s throat sounded tight. Beouf was still holding on. “Best we can do is wait him out and look for an opening to help. Just hafta do our best. Show him we still love him.” “I loved him before.” “I did too.” A pause. “He was my best friend.” Beouf’s throat was tightening up now. “I went home and cried my eyes out after you took him home.” I heard a honking nose blow. “No offense.” “None taken,” Janet blew her own. “I just wish I’d have told him what a good friend he was and how much I cared about him before all of this happened. I wish I’d met him sooner. He was fun to be around, and I liked him as a person, and it wasn’t just me cosseting.” “Stop…stop…don’t get me started…” Janet didn’t listen. “The last time we talked before his Maturosis flared we had a big fight. I wanted to help him and say I’m sorry and be his Mommy. It just feels like the fight never stopped.” These last few words came out as the tiniest, breathiest squeak; a deathbed confession of sorts. It just wasn’t hers. “I just wish I could go back in time and talk to him before…everything!” The ‘everything’ came out in one big long sob. Before? Before? Why not now! Why not come in and tell me now? Beouf joined the pity party, barely able to speak over her own looming sobs. “I didn’t tell him what a good teacher I thought he was until I’d changed him and put a bottle in his mouth. I had years, Janet! Years to tell him! I knew this could happen. I knew it but I never told him how proud I was or how much I enjoyed just being around him. He was my friend and now I have to pretend like none of that ever happened so he can be happy.” She didn’t make it to the end of that sentence before she sounded like a sobbing mess. “I just want my friend back!” “Me too!” I wasn’t listening in to an I.E.P. meeting or a doctor’s visit or a cult meeting. I was listening into my own funeral. They weren’t saying it in those exact words, but it was as if I’d been dead to them and they were only just now giving themselves time to mourn and grieve and the corpse of my adulthood was entombed in a nearby crib. Listening to the quiet but heavy breathing and nose blowing and gentle sobs of two crazy giantesses trying to give comfort to one another, I felt wetness drip onto my own cheeks. “Janet?” Beouf suddenly said. “Why is that light blinking? “What light?” Janet asked. “The baby monitor. There on the counter.” Beouf had regained her composure and with it came a sense of urgency. I started to crawl back under the crib’s bed sheets. “I always keep the monitor with me when he sleeps,” Janet said defensively. “He’s never needed it, but just in case. This thing is supposed to be portable so I can keep it in earshot.” I waited and listened to the sounds of chairs sliding out and scuffing against the kitchen floor. “Never noticed that before,” Janet’s voice sounded louder; more distorted. She was closer to the receiver. “Is that a low charge light or something? Thought I plugged it in this morning.” “Janet,” Beouf said, sober of all emotions, “this is a King Fisher model. I don’t think that’s the broadcaster. That’s the receiver.” The panic in Janet was instant. “You mean this whole time he’s been listening to…?” “Hush and turn it off!” I spit the pacifier out and closed my eyes. I tried to steady my breathing as gigantic footsteps shuffled in approached. Breath in. Hold. Breath out. Don’t fake snore. Don’t react. The door opened slowly. The light from the hallway was practically a spotlight shining up against my eyelids. I didn’t stir. Breath in. Hold. Breath out. Don’t fake snore. Don’t react. Don’t even stir. “He’s fine,” Janet whispered. “We didn’t wake him. I bet I messed up installing that end, too.” “Okay, come on and close the door,” Beouf beckoned. “Nini, Clark,” Janet said. ”I love you.” “Shhh.” I untensed muscles I hadn’t even known I was tensing when I heard the door click shut. “It’s okay,” I heard Janet say. I knew the cadence of her voice so well that a couple inches of wood wasn’t going to stop me. “I’ve been waking up every night and checking in to tell him that. He sleeps right through it.”

Chapter 76: Playpen Kingpin Tommy had a very difficult next couple of days in Mrs. Beouf’s Maturosis and Developmental Plateau Class. As near as I could tell, Tommy spent the next couple of days completely red faced, trembling, growling under his breath, and fighting back tears. “Awwww, look at the baby! Did the baby go pee-pee in his widdle pants? I bet he did! I bet he did!” ‘How adorable! He’s sucking his thumb!” “I could just pinch those cheeks!’ “Is he gonna cwyy? Does the baby need an extra nap?” All of these damn near Amazonian remarks were coming out of much smaller mouths and said with a subtle underlying venom born not out of ignorance or societal brainwashing but with frustration and hate. It hurt me almost as much as it did him. On top of that came the pinches, the flicks, the pokes, and the back claps that were more than a little too hard. For some unfathomable reason, Tommy was attracting an inordinate amount of mosquitos, gnats, flies, and the like that just needed to be swatted and picked and slapped. Maybe it was because his breath smelled like sour breast milk, or because he kept spilling sweet sugary mush on himself at breakfast and lunch, or because he couldn’t keep his diaper clean for even an hour. It was for his own good, really. “Just missed it.” “You should have seen it!” “Spider!” Pile on how much help Tommy ‘needed’ and he had even more cause to be miserable. “Here, Tommy, let me help you color!” “Tommy! Pick this one! This is the matching picture!” “Let me break your cracker up for you so that you don’t choke. Just in case!” “Hey Tommy! Do you know what color this is? I can help you with the answer!” He was getting so much wonderful help that he barely got a chance to talk or do anything by himself without some kind of comment or intervention. The best part? I wasn’t even doing most of it. My treatment of Tommy had spread like a cancer. Rebelling and twisting Amazon rules so that they were exposed to their own pathetic hypocrisy was asking a lot of my so-called peers. Only Chaz, Billy and Annie had been trustworthy and foolhardy enough to make the attempt with me. Picking on someone as friendly and genuine and well meaning and weak as Tommy? Too easy. He must’ve been the runt of this particular litter before I got tossed in, or something. Beouf and Zoge hadn’t quite noticed yet; Tommy still hadn’t tried to tattle. But unlike with therapy sessions and centers, isolating me or putting me by my lonesome wouldn’t solve this for Beouf. Chaz and Billy were friends with Jesse and Annie still had a form of solidarity with the other girls. Little see. Little do. Razzing, teasing, tormenting, and otherwise reminding Tommy what a baby he was compared to everyone else was just another game. Was he objectively any more infantile, regressed, or generally mindfucked than the rest of us? Absolutely not. It was just part of the game. Speaking of games: “Alright guys!” I announced to the playground that afternoon. “Let’s play circus!” I used my best teacher voice with the same kind of cheery confidence that Zoge and Beouf used when they were presenting some asinine activity. No one opted out or ignored or objected. They’d been conditioned too well. The entire class waddled and toddled up around me. “Yay!” Ivy clapped her hands like an idiot. “I love the circus!” I bit my tongue. I had other people to lash out at. “Everybody gets a role to play,” I proclaimed. “I’ll be the ringmaster, and announce the acts. Our stuffies can be most of the audience so we don’t have to carry them.” I took a second and set Lion down leaning against the low balance beam. “Mandy and Shauna can be acrobats.” They high fived each other and copied me, plopping their cotton homunculi down next to Lion. Little see, Little do. I did a quick double take watching Mandy walk. ‘Walk’ was using the term generously. Her Mommy had switched her to a thicker brand of diaper and Winters had mentioned that Mandy was doing ‘very well’ in Physical Therapy. “Um…no offense, Mandy, but are you sure you can do cartwheels…as is…?” Mandy’s cheeks turned a shade rosier and she looked down at the padded bulge beneath her leggings. Annie salvaged the moment. “Let them be trained elephants,” she suggested. “It’s impressive when Elephants stand on their hind legs or piggy pack on each other.” “That’ll do.” The relief I saw on Mandy was a symphony. I took note of that in case I got bored with Tommy. “Billy’s the strongman.” “What’ll I lift?” Billy asked. “Everything that's cool to lift is bolted down. I jerked my head over to the seesaw. “See how many people you can boost up.” “Deal.” I kept passing out roles as if someone had died and left me in charge. “Jesse? Lion tamer, yeah? Annie? Clown. Slapstick or stand up. Billy can double as your volunteer.” “Maybe some of the dirt is still wet from when it rained late this morning,” Sandra Lynn piped up. “Maybe she could make a mud pie to throw in somebody’s face.” “Never mind,” I said. “Billy, focus on being strong. Annie and Sandra Lynn, clowns. Plural. I think you’ve got a routine in the works.” “That would ruin my pretty new dress,” Annie whispered. “Do it.” I spun around in a quick circle, pretending to be whimsical. Beouf and Zoge were still on their perch, looking at us tentatively. Clumped up like we were, their attention wasn’t split. They were tired however, and still naively wanting to give us a chance at something resembling free play. By my estimation we were at the very limit of their hearing so that they couldn’t quite make out what was being said as long as no one screamed or yelled. “You two are on last,” I told them. “Go pretend to play while you gather the ingredients. We’re only gonna get one chance at this.” “What about Mommy and Mrs. B.?” Ivy asked, innocently enough. I stepped in front of her. “They’re on the board of circus oversight. Have to make sure that everything is ethical. Ensure that we’re staying within guidelines for the boundaries and staying complicit and not breaking any cruelty laws or ADA regulations and that safety regulations are observed and certification is up to date to prevent any risk of disease. And that’s just Mrs. Zoge. Beouf is with the Circus Performer’s Union. Don’t get me started on Beouf and Union stop. They’re busy, guys.” “I know he’s bullshitting,” Chaz snickered underfoot, “but I’m loving it.” Tommy finally reached the point of curiosity and wanting to belong enough to speak up. “What about me?” “You’re a stooge” There was a collective inhalation as if I’d just cursed at him. “What?” “A stooge,” I said. “A shill. A plant. Your job is to sit among the audience and cheer for us. That way all the people in the audience know when to clap and cheer, too. But you can’t tell the audience members that you work for us.” Tommy’s face fell. “That just sounds like I have to watch and be part of the audience while you guys get to make jokes and do tricks.” “What?” I gasped. “Noooooo. No-no-no-no-no-no-no-noooo!” Yes. “Being a stooge is a super important job. Keeps the rubes entertained. Get it? You’re like a secret agent or…or…or…” “A Helper?” Ivy offered. Several pairs of lips sucked in in an attempt to stifle raucous laughter. “Yeah! That!” Tommy’s eyes were starting to water. Ivy might not have known what she’d said, but just about everyone else did. “Oh, I know, Ivy. How about you show Tommy how it’s done? You can be the audience plant, and to make your part more convincing, Tommy can be your baby!” Tommy’s disbelieving “What?!” came out as a hoarse whisper instead of a shout. Lucky me. “Why do I have to be the baby?” “It makes sense if you think about it.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Chaz is the crawler. Why can’t he be the baby?” “Okay, first off, that’s pretty ableist. Not very mature of you. Second of all, I need Chaz to be the lion for the tamer. Duh.” Tommy started looking around nervously, clawing for a way out. “Why not have your lion be the lion?” “Are you asking because you think Lion is real and can actually roar, or are you just dead set on breaking the pre-agreed rules.” I got nothing but a stammering, stuttering, confused response. It’s all I’d wanted. “Stuffies are audience members. Ivy’s the circus secret agent, and you’re the baby providing her cover.” Tommy took a step out to walk around me. I closed my eyes and massaged my temples. “Ivy, take your baby to his seat.” Ivy’s hand struck out like a snake. Tommy froze and whimpered, but didn’t bother to struggle. Resignedly, he went with her and sat on the balance beam amongst all the other toys. With years of practice watching her Mommy, Ivy reached down and helped pop Tommy’s pacifier in for him. “There there, baby. You’ll love the circus along with all these other people.” My smile was grim that Tuesday afternoon. Playgrounds were a peculiar sort of torture chamber to me, though I couldn’t phrase why. But at least this playground was becoming my torture chamber. I inhaled and held my breath for moment. “Laaaaaaaaadies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Greatest Show in the World!” ************************************************************************************************** The Amazons had started to wise up by late morning Wednesday. That explained why Circle Time had an extra song about Friendship. Whole group after centers was a book about how we should be nice to our friends. Neat. Cool story. Good thing Tommy wasn’t my friend. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” I said. “I didn’t realize how sensitive you were.” I stood up and cut across the sitting circle over to him. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” I wrapped my arms around him and whispered, “Poor baby is getting picked on by all the grown-up Littles.” His arms went rigid. The rest of the class followed suit with equally backhanded apologies and hugs. Zoge looked half-way convinced. Beouf eyed me. It was a familiar look; the same I’d gotten from Brollish on multiple occasions. On the way to lunch, I spotted Jeremy Merriwether. He was full and tired and talking with his classmates. I’d blended back into the environment for him and most of the actual students. “Hey!” I shouted out. “Hey Jeremy!” His head snapped down and he looked me in the eye. I held up my plushie and proudly declared. “Lion says you can go fuck yourself!” “Clark!” Beouf barked at me. “We don’t use that kind of language.” “It’s not me,” I said, pointing to Lion. “Lion told me to say it.” “And if Lion told you to jump off a bridge, would you?” “Yes.” “Then maybe Lion shouldn’t be allowed in our classroom much longer if he’s going to give you bad ideas.” “So I can’t cuss anymore?” The threat meant nothing to me, but I wanted the others to hear it. Beouf didn’t answer right away. Maybe it was the overhead blast fan in the cafeteria, instead, but I could have sworn I heard her teeth grinding against each other. While we waited to be unclipped and seated at the communal highchairs, I turned around to my favorite bully boy, Billy. “Keep an eye on Tommy. Let him know if he does anything particularly babyish.” Billy nodded without thinking. “Deal.” A beat. “Wait. Why?” “Why not?” That was more than enough for Billy. Predictably I ended up at the exact opposite table as far away from Tommy as I could. Beouf and Zoge weren’t complete fools. Fortunately I didn’t need to be by him. I had the others. The friendship lesson before Lunch had only succeeded in adding a few new words to the rounds of passive aggressive teasing. For example, “Mrs. Zoge! Can you cut up my friend Tommy’s vegetables more? I'm worried that he’ll choke! Maybe he needs formula instead?” Or “Ew, Tommy! That’s so immature!” with just enough of a pause so that the follow up “Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” sounded sincere instead of pre-loaded. Our lunch period was halfway done and the bottles of milk were being passed out. Being last to lunch meant that the room was at a fever pitch when we entered and slowly got more quiet as classes of fourth and fifth graders shuffled out with no one coming to take their place. So it was perfect, just crowded enough, when Billy whispered something to Jesse and he shouted “Ew! Tommy pooped his pants again! Change him! Change him now! Hurry!” Billy pooped his pants sitting down enough times to where he knew exactly what to look for. I was so mesmerized by the ensuing fallout that Beouf had to swerve the plastic spork around so that the mashed potatoes would make it into my mouth. A wave of giggles rippled through the cafeteria. Very rarely did such outbursts happen. Littles in Beouf’s were usually too embarrassed to tell on themselves and the quiet camaraderie of being trapped together kept us from ratting each other out. That and until a short while ago, no one was getting changed until we got back to the classroom. It was more practical to suffer in silence. “There,” Billy ‘helped’ pointing to the bottom of the cafeteria cart. “There’s a fresh diaper there! Change him before I throw up!” Older kids giggled behind their hands. Tracy told the preschoolers at her table to hush and eat their food and to stop parroting us. Oddly enough she looked at me quizzically, even though I only opened my mouth for gobs of shepherd's pie. Did she really know me that well? “I got him,” Zoge said. Tommy was redder than a firetruck and was close to blubbering. His shoulders started heaving and he let out a low mournful groan when Zoge picked him up, pulled back his jeans and gave his lumpy bottom a pat. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Definitely.” The laughter from my old class redoubled and Tracy walked around and blocked their view of us. She was crossing her arms and widening her stance. She was just a Tweener but was more than big enough to sneer them into submission. I couldn’t hear whatever ultimatum she’d whispered to them, but it did the job. A few of my students reached behind them and adjusted their pants uncomfortably; kind of like how some people unconsciously scratch their heads the moment someone mentions lice. I couldn’t help but wonder… Zoge bent over and picked up the fresh diaper from the bottom of the cart. She started cooing at Tommy in Yamatoan. Tommy started huffing and puffing like he was fighting back tears, poor guy. We were almost done eating by the time Zoge came back with Tommy. Most of the other classes had shuffled out and Beouf was pulling double duty. He was almost in a ball like a cat that was scared to go to the vet, digging his finger into Zoge’s collarbone, and shivering like a hairless rat. Playfully, mockingly, I waved. “Hi Tommy! How was it breaking in the bathroom changing table?” Zoge stopped long enough to look right at me. Something lingered behind her eyes. It wasn’t anger. Zoge didn’t really do overt anger. Just disappointment. It took me just a second to realize that the change had gone longer than usual and it wasn’t because it had been particularly messy or that the strap on the changing station got stuck or something. Tommy had had a good long talk with Zoge in the privacy of the girl’s room. I had to sit between Beouf and Zoge instead of playing. Fine by me. Tommy got ignored on the playground. “What am I gonna do with you, Clark?” Janet asked after Beouf shared what she’d pieced together. Good question. ******************************************************************************************* “Leave me alone, Clark.” Tommy begged me Thursday. “Please.” “Okay.” I said. I kept following him around the playground. “I am.” He led me around the slide. Over the balance beam. Weaving in and out of the spring ponies. Through the tunnel. All at the leisurely pace of a horse that was made to sprint across the desert. “I just happen to be going to the exact same place you’re going to at the exact same time. What a coincidence, huh?” The others had given him a hell of a silent treatment all day. He didn’t want to be treated the way that Amazons treated Littles? Fine. He’d get treated the way I treated the giants. No talking unless absolutely necessary. Cold stares. The absolute scorn reserved for the enemy. Who would want to talk to a snitch? All it took was “Don’t talk to snitches” whispered in the bus loop that morning. By naptime, he was begging for someone, anyone to talk to him. I started humming Hush Little Baby and the others joined in. We clammed up when Beouf poked her head through the door, but the message had been well sent. He wasn’t ready to break, but not for me. “Hi Tommy, I heard you want to talk. Do you want to talk buddy? Come on! It’s me! It’s your pal! You wanted someone to talk to, well let’s talk.” Four days of gaslighting and social shunning is a lot longer off of paper. Memories are short when you’re happy. Even shorter when you’re miserable. “Clark…do you need to have a seat?” Beouf warned me. Tommy wasn’t complaining, but his body language said enough. “It’s fine,” Tommy yelled. “I’m fine!” He was a poor liar. “Come and keep me company, Clark.” I shrugged. “Fine by m-” “No! Wait!” Tommy called out. “I want to talk to Clark. Alone! Please!” Beouf looked dubious. There wasn’t much to be done if my plaything didn’t advocate for himself. “Alright…but you can come and keep me and Mrs. Zoge company too if you want, Tommy. We’re safe.” “No thanks.” I slung my arm over Tommy’s shoulders and flashed my biggest toothiest goofiest grin Beouf’s way. She knew what I was doing. I knew what I was doing. But what was she gonna do about it? That’s the problem with having beliefs and rules to follow, I guessed. You had to follow them. “Step into my office,” I told Tommy. The A.L.L. gave us the back of the tree. Annie, Billie, and Chaz coincidentally spit onto the ground right by Tommy’s feet on their way back into view. “What’s up?” I asked. “Why?” Tommy begged me. “Why are you doing this? Why me? Why now? Why are you hurting me?” A smirk played at the corner of my mouth. “Why not? What did you do to deserve this. Must’ve been something.” “Please stop. I just want to mind my own business and go to school and try and figure out a way to live my life and-” “Be a baby?” I offered. “Ye…No!” I was a tiger playing with his mouse. “You sure? Seems like it.” Tommy buried his hands in his face. I stood taller. “I just…I…I’m sorry, okay. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but please stop picking on me.” He was close to tears. ‘I’m not like Ivy or…or…or even Sandra Lynn. I know I’m an adult.” “But you want to be like them?” He was doing everything he could not to explode. “No!” My pose was almost identical to Tracy’s in the cafeteria the day before. “Yes? I don’t know! I just want you sto..” He choked on his words lest he start weeping uncontrollably. I sat down and leaned against the tree. I was in control here. “Okay. So who should I pick on instead?” He could barely talk, but his expression showed the disbelief. “Who? Should I? Pick on? Instead? Who deserves it more?” He was prey looking for predators lurking in the tall grass. Unable to see anything, yet fearing a trap. “Sandra Lynn?” “Say it like you mean it.” “Sandra Lynn.” “Why?” “She’s been here the longest besides Ivy. She acts the most like a baby. Giggles when Beouf makes her voice go high and cutesy. Likes to show off.” If not for the Monkeez his knees would have been knocking. “This is definitely gonna be her last year at this rate.” I mimed thoughtfulness. “Hmmm…maybe. Maybe.” I looked him in the eyes and waited for him to look away. He did. I stood up and smiled. “Okay. Sure.” “Thank you!” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Thank you!” “Sir.” “Thank you, sir! Thank you!” I called my crew back and told them the news. Tommy was okay. Maybe more adult than he seemed. Even said that Tommy might have potential, never mind that I had no idea what that meant. I didn’t tell them about Sandra Lynn. That could wait till next week. I finished that Thursday walking over to Beouf and Zoge on the playground’s bench and nestled myself confidently between them. Melony spared me a glance, wondering what I was up to. I smiled back, folded my hands behind my head and rested my eyes.

Gabriela waved to her friends as she they left the movie theatre. She looked up at the stars, then closed her eyes and breathed in the night air. She began walking down the side walk, back towards her house. Once past the theatre and nearby stores, the roads quickly became forested, with only a few houses to break the line of trees. She loved walking down this path a night.She noticed a van coming up behind her. Thinking nothing of it, she continued. However, as the van got closer, it began to slow down. A little nervous now, she picked up her pace. The van sped up as well, following close behind her.Sprinting now, she turned off the road, hoping to head into the tree line. The van stopped, and a few men got out. They followed her quickly and soon caught up. She turned to try to fight them, swinging a balled fist at the nearest, but was outnumbered and smaller than any of them. One grabbed her arms from behind. She tried to scream, but one shoved his hand into her mouth. She bit down, and heard him yelp. However, her mouth was quickly covered again with a piece of cloth, and her vision blurred. Within seconds she had passed out.Gabriela slowly regained consciousness. A wave of confusion fell over her. Something about where she was felt… funny. She felt as if she was hugging herself, and it was difficult to move. Something was wrapped around her chest, and something far thicker was around her waist.The memories from the night before came back in a flood. She sat up quickly, which proved to be a mistake. Her head slammed into something, and she fell back down. She opened her eyes, only to be met with pitch black. She couldn’t see anything around her, and had no idea where she was.She tried to make sense of where she was based on feel. She was in some kind of bed, that was certain. She could feel the mattress underneath her, and the blanket on top. She guessed, based on the feeling, a second blanket had wrapped around her tightly, and bunched between her legs. Something in her mouth kept her from calling out for help. She tried to reach around her, but found it impossible to move her arms. Giving up on her arms, she began kicking her legs, throwing the blanket off of her. She tried to move her arms again. To her surprise, they didn’t feel any different, and the thick feeling between her legs hadn’t left. Alright, so it wasn’t a blanket. Suddenly nervous, and with a growing feeling of anxious nausea, she realized someone had tied her up.She began moving her legs around, trying to see if she could feel out her surroundings. Obviously there was something above her. She lifted her feet into the air, and felt a row of bars above her. She moved them from side to side, feeling more of the same. She was in a cage.She lay back down flat on the bed, trying to think. Someone had captured her, for what, she didn’t know. They tied her up and locked her inside a cage. Perhaps soon they would enter, and she could find out what was going on.She heard footsteps coming toward her. A door opened, and a light came on. She blinked for a moment to get used to the light.“Ahhh, it seems out baby is awake. We heard you rustling around and figured we’d check,” she heard a deep, masculine voice say.She looked toward the voice, finding a pair of men. Both wore identical all black clothing and grey cloth masks over their faces.“MMMMM MMMM!” She tried to ask who they were, but all that came out was a muffled noise. She remembered that there was something in her mouth. She looked around herself. The bars above and beside her were wooden, and either end of her mattress had a tall board decorated with flowers. She wasn’t in a cage, she was in a crib. She looked down at herself. While she had assumed she was simply tied, it became clear she was in a white strait jacket. Unlike most strait jackets she had seen before, it had “Baby Girl” written across the chest in pink, with a pacifier and a diaper drawn on either side of it. She looked down further. What she had assumed was bunched up blankets between her legs was an almost comically thick diaper, covered with pictures of teddy bears and pacifiers. A glance around the room revealed a gigantic nursery. The walls were painted in a sky scene a happy sun and clouds and a gigantic rainbow. There was a changing table, well stocked with diapers of various colors, piles of toys, and a closet she assumed was filled with more babyish outfits. She found a mirror, and studied herself. Along with the strait jacket and diaper, she wore a pink bonnet, and a matching pacifier filled her mouth with a strap around her head to take it in place.“I suppose you’re wondering what is going on,” one of the men said. “You have been chosen for this based on a ‘compatible personality,’ which I am sure you understand. In fact, I bet you recognize a lot of what you see here.” Gabriella blushed. She did, in fact, recognize much of it. It was like one of a hundred scenarios she had imagined, read about, and even drawn herself into. For a long time, she had a fascination with diapers, and especially with being forced into them. How had the man known? Did he see her internet history?The stranger continued speaking, walking toward her as he did. “You are now in a program to train adult babies. For reasons I am sure will become clear soon, we need to ensure you are able to be trained, and we don’t have much time to do it. This means the next little while will be…unpleasant, for you, and even more so if you don’t cooperate.” He undid the latch on her crib, and picked her up. She struggled for a moment, but the straight jacket made it essentially pointless. “We are going to introduce you to the worst aspects of being a baby slave. When we are done, you will be begging to be treated as one. Oh, and you can call me, and my partner, ‘Daddy’.”Gabriela doubted that. Though she had her fantasies, she had never really imagined it happening in real life. If he thought she would be begging, he was in for a surprise.It was Gabriela, however, who was surprised first. The first thing the man did after taking her out of the crib was to sit down and bend her over her lap. From a dozen pictures and stories, she knew exactly what was coming next. She began kicking and struggling, then tried to call out but was muffled by the pacifier.“Don’t struggle, you will only make it worse,” her ‘Daddy” said. With that, he raised his hand, and began spanking her through her diaper. WHACK WHACK WHACK! Each hit landed with a dull thud against her padding, making her yelp each time. She gave up struggling against him, but still bounced and kicked her feet with each smack. She had never imagined the spankings to be this painful.After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. Gabriela sighed inwardly, thinking it was over. However, the man simply undid the strap that ran between her legs, untapped her diaper, and began again on her bare bottom. She squealed even louder as he rained down blows. She began sobbing and whimpering as he mercilessly spanked her.Finally, he finished the bare bottom spanking. Gabriela’s bottom ached and throbbed horribly. She was certain it was beet red.The man reached into his pocket and took something out. She felt him put something into her bottom, than watched as he squeezed a tube. She felt the thing inside her inflate, and realized it was a butt plug. He re –taped her diaper and pulled the strap between her legs again. He picked her up off his lap and stood her on the ground. Next, he reached over to a nearby shelf and grabbed a white collar, which he attached to Gabriella’s neck along with a leash.“Alright, that plug is going to stay in there for a while. Eventually you will resent it so much even filling a diaper will seem merciful by comparison. Meanwhile, you will be receiving spankings every hour, on the hour. It is your job to make sure we remember. If we ‘forget’, and go past the time, and you don’t do anything, your spankings will become much worse and more frequent. Now, it is time to take you to the kitchen for breakfast. You will follow me like a good diaper slave. Oh, and if you slow down, my partner her will spank you to encourage you forward.”With a squeak, Gabriella looked over at the second man, who had grabbed a large paddle. The first man tugged on her leash, pulling her forward. Not wanting to cause any trouble, she followed. However, he moved quickly, turning down various hallways without warning, and she struggled to keep up. The man behind her used every excuse he could to bring the paddle down hard on her bottom. By the time they reached the kitchen, where she saw a high chair set up for her, she was whimpering and squealing anew.The two men picked her up and sat her in the high chair. They closed the tray over her and locked it shut. Then, they locked her ankles into cuffs on the legs of the chair.One of the men placed a large bowl in front of her. It was filled with an un-appetizing grey mush. Gabriela leaned back away from it and wrinkled her nose at the smell. It looked horrible, and there was far too much of it.Her ‘Daddy’ took the pacifier out of her mouth. She assumed she’d be able to move her mouth freely, but found that there was still a ring around her teach, keeping her from closing it completely. She tried to speak, asking for something else to eat. However, she only got as far as “Wait…” before he was shoveling spoon full after spoon full into her. She tried to swallow as quickly as she could and speak between mouthfuls, but could barely keep up with his pace. It was clear he was ignoring her anyway. Resigned to her fate, she simply swallowed the grotesque slime as quickly as she could, wondering what the heck it was. At the rate he was spooning it into her mouth, it was difficult to swallow, and she felt some of the slime fall out of her mouth and down her chin.The bowl was massive, and soon she was full. She tried to ask for him to stop, but he was intent on having her eat every single bite. Soon she was bloated, her stomach aching. When he was done with the mush, the man took a baby bottle full of milk and put it to her lips. Gabriela began sucking, thankful at least for something to rinse the mush down.When she was done, the man looked at her. “Had enough, baby girl?”Gabriella nodded. “Yes, Daddy, please! No more!” She said around the ring in her mouth.“Hmmm… alright. However, just to be sure…” to her surprise, he grabbed a pipe and attached it to the gag where her pacifier once was. It went straight into her mouth and to the back of her throat. Gabriela followed the pipe with her eyes and saw it was attached to a large machine. The man flicked a switched, and she saw more of the slime come down the tube. It came closer and closer, than began filling her mouth. She was forced to swallow helplessly as it poured into her. Her ‘Daddy’ watched for a moment, then turned to leave the room. She tried to call after him, begging for him to stop it, but her muffled squeals went unheeded. After a moment, she saw the fluid coming toward her change from grey to white, and found she was drinking milk. A minute later it was the grey mush again, and so on. More and more of it came into her, and she swallowed until she was even more bloated then before. She noticed a clock on the wall, and counted the minutes go by. At 9:35, the tube had been in her mouth for 10 minutes, with no sign of slowing down. If she was to receive hourly spankings, that meant another 25 minutes of mush. She groaned, and kept swallowing.Very quickly she felt a pressure growing in her bowels. It quickly became unbearable as more and more of the food went through her system. Nervously she wondered if she would be forced to use it to fill her diapers. The thought made her shudder. Despite countless pictures of messy diapers, actually doing it seemed horrible. No matter what she thought, however, at this moment the plug ensured it stayed exactly where it was.The liquid, on the other hand, had nothing keeping it inside her. She struggled briefly to refrain from humiliating herself, but it was a lost cause. The pressure grew each time the milk came down the house, and she was soon wetting herself. She flooded her diaper over and over again until it felt sloppy against her and squished every time she moved. It seemed like she was just part of the hose leading into the diaper. The liquid came from the machine to her mouth, went straight through her, and into her diaper.She watched the clock. Time went by slowly. 9:40, 45, 50, 55, 56, 57, 58 and 10 seconds, 20 seconds, thirty seconds… It seemed to slow down as it got closer to her spanking. She found it odd that she was so eager for the time to pass, anticipating a spanking like some kind of reward. However, even the pain of a smacked bottom was better than constantly being feed this mush.As if part of the clockwork, as soon as the clock struck 10, the two men re-entered the room. One turned off the machine while the other took the house out of her mouth and replaced the pacifier. He wiped the food of her chin. “Aww, did baby wet her diapie?” he asked. Gabriela blushed and nodded. “Don’t worry diaper girl, we will change you. Eventually.”Then he unlocked her and took her out of the high chair. Once again, he pulled her over his knee and began spanking. Gabriela squealed and whined, but didn’t try to struggle, as she knew it was hopeless. Her already sore bottom stung even worse with each smack, and soon she was crying loudly through her pacifier. This time, however, he kept her diaper on. This proved to be wise, as she wet herself twice more before he was done.“Alright Gabriella, listen up. Today is supposed to be the day we punish you the most, but we’ve decided to give you a break. Come along!” He dragged her by the leash into another room. It turned out to be a tv-room, with a large screen and several couches. Along with the normal furnishings, there was a large mesh play pen. The two men picked her up and placed her inside this, then closed a hatch which sealed her in. They turned the television to a baby cartoon with anthropomorphic animals playing around and speaking gibberish. Before they left one of them said, “oh, and remember. Make sure you get your hourly spanking. If we forget, remind us.” Gabriella wince, not looking forward to another series of smacks.Gabriella crouched on her knees and ankles, not wanting to put her sore bottom on the ground. Even with the thick padding of the diaper, it was painful to sit. She looked around herself. There were several assorted blocks and stuffed animals, though she couldn’t do much with them without the use of her hands. She turned her attention to the television. The show was essentially pointless, simply a series of cute images to amuse babies. With nothing better to do, she resigned herself to crouching in her soaked diapers and watching it. If anything, it took her mind off the pressure inside her and the pain on her bottom.Time still went slowly, but this was at least better than the high chair. It was boring, but not painful in any way. Every fifteen minutes a different show came on, but none of them were really different. Each was filled with different cutesy characters and a different, inane, pointless plot.Suddenly she realized four shows had gone by. She looked at the digital clock beneath the television. It was 11:00, exactly. Neither of the men had come in to spank her. Had they forgotten? She remembered their warnings, it was up to her to tell them. She supposed that she could kick her feet and scream, than when they removed her pacifier she would tell them. However, the thought alone made her wince in pain. Her bottom was still sore from the last spanking, and another didn’t seem enjoyable. Perhaps if she didn’t mention it, they’d leave her alone…She watched the clock, growing more and more nervous. Should she call out? The clock changed to 11:01. Had they forgotten, or were they testing her? It seemed like an obvious test. Maybe she should. 11:02. It seemed as if time was now going faster to make up for how slowly it had been going earlier. How much worse would her punishments be if she didn’t ask for it? Could it be that much worse? 11:03. At this point, it was probably moot. Even if she said something, it was still passed the hour mark.Having finally made up her mind, Gabriella stopped watching the clock and turned her attention back to the television. Not a moment later, the two men came through the door again. She looked up at them, fear apparent in her eyes.“Well well, it looks like our naughty little girl forgot to say something, didn’t she?” one of them said.“Yes, I guess she didn’t want a spanking,” the other replied. “Perhaps she just isn’t used to them yet.”“I agree. Let’s see if we can rectify that, shall we?”Immediately Gabriela began to scream, hoping to beg for forgiveness. What were they going to do to her? They opened the playpen and dragged her out. The pulled her forward by the leash. She tried to struggle, hoping to gain a moment so she could explain she WAS going to call them, but wasn’t sure what to do and ran out of time. However, this excuse seemed pitiful even to her, and the leash forced her forward. They led her through the building, down a flight of stairs, and into another room. She groaned when she saw what was waiting for her.Directly in front of her was a full bdsm-style dungeon. Chains, straps, rods and paddles covered the wall. A set of stocks, cages, and various other restraining devices filled it. They led her to what she realized was a spanking bench. It was made of wood, had one waist high plank, and two others beside it. Her hips were placed on the higher plank bent at an acute angle, and her knees and elbows were tied to the other two.One of the men stood behind her. He raised a paddle and brought it down, hard, upon her bottom. It made her yelp and begin crying instantly. The paddle was far worse than the hand spankings, especially with nothing but a wooden plank underneath her. He raised it again and spanked her again, even harder this time. He kept going, making her more and more sore. When he was finished, the other man took over.After a few minutes, they stopped. “Alight you naughty girl,” one of them said “we are going to take a break. If you look at the clock, you will see it is currently 11:10. We will be back in five minutes for another five minute spanking, and so on. Understood?”Not waiting to reply, they both left. As promised, they returned in five minutes. This time, they used a strap instead of the paddle, focusing more heavily on her thighs which were unprotected by the diaper. The next time they came the used a rod, then a larger paddle, then a slipper, and so on. Each time they returned they used a different implement on the girl’s bottom, and each was worse than the hands.When they came in at 11:55, they spanked her with another paddle, than stopped and left. Gabriela looked at the clock, seeing it was only 11:58. Why had they stopped two minutes earlier? She groaned, realizing it was probably another test. She watched the clock in desperation, seeing it turn to 12:00 with no sign of the men. She couldn’t believe she was doing it, but she began yelling through the pacifier. Come on! She thought. It’s only been two minutes since the last spanking! Do I really need to do this? But she knew it was a test, and she didn’t want to fail.The two men came back in, and took her pacifier out.“What is it?” one asked.“It’s 12:00 Daddy!” she said.“So?”She squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself for what she was about to say. “You need to spank me again, Daddy. It’s the hour mark.”“Oh, is that so?” he asked, and she nodded, pouting. “Alright then. Good baby slave.”He put the pacifier back into her mouth, and she suckled it, finding at least a bit of comfort in it as waited for another painful series of smacks. To her relief, he unattached her from the bench. He pulled her over his knee and spanked her with his hand. Though it was still painful, it was certainly better than any of the instruments.After the spanking, she was brought back into the kitchen and sat in her high chair. Once again, she was fed grey mush with the hose. Her diaper became more and more soaked, and her stomach became more and more bloated. After another hour, she called out for her spanking.By the time they were finished spanking her, the food from her lunch had reached her bowels. It added with her breakfast to become unbearably painful. Her stomach was extremely bloated and grumbled each time she moved.The two sat her own the ground. They reached down and took out her pacifier.“Now, Diaper Girl, is there something you want to ask us?”Gabriela whimpered. She knew exactly what they meant, but was afraid to say it. However, the pressure in her stomach was far too much to ignore.“Yes Daddy,” she said “Can I please… ummm… go potty?”“Babies don’t use pottys, do they? What do you really want to use?She groaned. “I want to use my diaper.”“Excuse me? Say that again please.”“Please Daddy, let me mess my diaper like a baby.”Though his face was covered, Gabriela was certain he was smiling. “Alright. I told you you’d be begging to be treated like a baby. I know some people who will be VERY pleased to hear that. Kneel down and bend over.”Gabriela complied, kneeling with her head on the ground and her diapered bottom in the air. Her ‘Daddy’ reached into her diaper, played with the plug for a bit, and took it out.Instantly she exploded into her diapers with a load “BRRRAAPPPT!” Loads of mush and clumps came out of her. It came without her control, and she could do nothing to slow it down. She stuck her bottom out and moaned loudly, feeling relief and humiliation as she nosily filled her diapers. The slime quickly coated her entire backside, and the smell filled her nostrils with its horrid reek. She wiggled on the floor, wondering when it would stop. There seemed to be no end to it, and minutes went by as it continued to force its way into her pampers. Hours’ worth of force feeding and waiting in desperation for relief had filled her to the brim. She was shocked her diaper could hold so much of the mess.Finally it slowed, and she raised herself, humiliated, disgusted, and blushing, to her knees. As soon as she straightened, however, the pressure returned instantly. She groaned as another wave of mush came out.“PEW YEW!” one of the men said jokingly. “I didn’t realize you had that much in you! What a little potty pants!”“Definitely. You really put those diapers to good use Stinky Girl. We better open some windows!”The men forced her onto her feet and led her forward by the leash. Once again, the change in position brought another wave of pressure, and she bent over, let out another loud “BRRAAPPT!,” and filled her diapers further. It seemed like every time she moved she filled her diapers even more. The men laughed harder each time, plugging their nose and joking about her smell and how much of a baby she was. The led her around, making her walk, jump up and down, bend in various positions, all too see if they could make more of a mess of her diapers. They quickly took to calling her “Ms. Potty Pants,” “Stinky Girl,” or one of a dozen other humiliating nicknames.To her surprise, one of the men sat down on a couch. She was expecting another spanking, but instead he sat her on his lap facing him like a little girl.