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Meta Moore By Sophie & Pudding *Author's Note: About 5 years ago, a woman named Mia Moore wrote the Academy Works series here on DailyDiapers. It is one of the worst-kept secrets that this was a pen name Pudding and I used, all so we could write THIS story! (Yeah, we really did write a seven-book series just to write a side-story.) And though you can find the whole story elsewhere on the internet, we think it's time to post it on DD as well. I'll be posting chapters in blocks so people have time to build a relationship with the characters and the narrative. ----------------------------------- At the time of this story's first chapter, Mia has written Academy I [Part 1], Academy B [Part 2], Academy T[Part 3], Academy K [Part 4], and the first six chapters of Academy A [Part 5]. Throughout this story, more chapters will be released (and clearly denoted). Though it isn't necessary to know anything about Academy Works to enjoy Mia's story, it might be fun to follow along as a fan of hers. In which case, we recommend you read *all four stories above and the first six chapters of the fifth story*. SPOILERS: This story contains spoilers for Academy Works up to and including Academy A - Chapter 6. ----------------------------------- Wednesday, October 5th 1.) I sunk down in my seat and rubbed my eyes under my glasses. The meet-up hadn't been a total disaster, but I didn't expect to run into someone I knew. Who drove two hours away to go to dinner, anyway? Me, I supposed. I took a deep breath. It felt like the first deep breath I'd taken since bumping into Blossom Brixley. Well, we didn't literally bump into each other; I saw her from across the room. I ducked out before finishing my pizza and hurried back to the train station. The truth was, she probably didn't even know who I was. Blossom Brixley was easy to spot from across a room. She was a tall girl with bottled-blonde hair, a slim, almost lanky frame, and a figure that people either wanted or wanted to have for themselves. She was the quintessential popular girl experience; cheerleader in high school, beloved by most, and - contrary to many snap-judgements - pretty clever. Good grades, good looks, and a smile that melted hearts the way summer melted ice cream. If life dealt hands, it was easy to presume that Blossom had been dealt a good one. Blossom Brixley was easy to spot from across a room, but the girl she followed onto the train was facing away from the door. Just as the train lurched forward, Blossom plopped down in the seat across from the girl, so the two were facing each other. Blossom read the name tag on the girl's shirt, only to confirm that it said what she thought it said. Mia Moore. She couldn't believe it… it was actually her. I just about jumped out of my skin when she sat down. It was like waking up from a nightmare just to see the thing you feared standing above you in your bed. And the train had started to move: I couldn't run again. My heart rate doubled. "Blossom..." I managed to eke out. Why was she on the train? She had a car; she sure talked about it enough in high school. But just because we were both on the train didn't mean she saw me at the munch. "Nice to, uh... see you." Had I ever said this many words to her before? Four years at the same high school, two years at the same college, seven classes together... actually we had one together right now. She was impossible to miss. I, on the other hand, was impossible to notice. "You're awfully jumpy!" Blossom laughed. She had done enough drugs to know what euphoria felt like. That was how she felt: euphoric, with a touch of anxiety. "I'm a girl, not a spider - nothing to be afraid of." A girl, not a spider. That definitely didn't align with my schema of Blossom. In high school, she was often cruel. She was popular, but she was also smart; that made it worse. Then I noticed her looking down at my chest, or rather, the nametag I was still wearing from the munch. I quickly tore it off and crumpled it into a ball. Was my face hot? I felt a little sick. "Well, it was nice seeing you," I said too quickly, pulling out my phone to pretend like I was replying to a text. For a girl who cheered in front of her whole school for years, Blossom found herself oddly awestruck. She didn't bother the girl as she played on her phone, instead choosing to gaze out the window as the city went by. Trees. Then houses. Then buildings. There was a while left on the route, and there weren't many other people in the carriage. It was now or never, wasn't it? "I've read your stuff, you know." "Uh..." She read my stuff? She meant that she read my stuff online. She read that particular kind of stuff. Because she saw my nametag, because she knew who I was. But she knew who I was! She wasn't supposed to know both of me, no one was! And without thinking it through, without thinking about how stupid it sounded, I did the first thing that came to mind: I lied. "I don't know what you're talking about." "I knew you were gonna say that," Blossom laughed. "I mean, that's what anyone would say, right? I think that's what I'd say too, 'cause I think we think all deniability is plausible until it isn't, and it definitely isn't right now." Blossom was rocking gently in her seat. Mia Moore was shorter than she was, enough so that even when sitting the difference was pretty clear. But even though she was taller, Blossom felt a lot like a kid on Christmas morning. Of all the munches in all the cities in all the world… had Blossom really been going to school with Mia Moore her whole damn life? "I'm so excited right now, I can't even. I mean, look - I'm shaking." She held up her hand to show her trembling fingers. I sunk further into my chair and felt my face get hot. No one was ever so excited to see me, and Blossom Brixley of all people... it was a dream. I was dreaming. Then a thought occurred to me, one that should have occurred to me a lot earlier. Why was Blossom at that munch anyway? And why did she know about my writing? There wasn't any chance that she... No, it was a prank. Ugh, this was so like her. Now what? She tells everyone in school about me? Her and her stupid sorority sisters laugh behind my back? The heat on my face became that of anger rather than that of embarrassment, and I balled my hands at my sides. "This isn't funny," I told her sharply, but tears were forming in my eyes. I always cried when I got angry. "Of course it's not funny, why would it be funny? I'm basically confessing a pretty personal thing about me to you, so I hope it's not funny..." Blossom had a legendary pout - it was a leftover from her mousey middle school days of frumpiness and unhappiness. On her current-day self, it was cute as heck and usually meant people let her have her way. Today, she pouted because meeting her literary hero was already a pretty stressful thing and... and oh no. "Oh no no, please don't cry! No no, I've got tissues in..." Her voice trailed off as she dug through her purse looking for the little pack of tissues. "...somewhere in here... I think? I think, I mean, I should..." "I'm not crying," I said under my breath, reaching up and rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. When I was done, my glasses fell in place on my nose and I looked up at Blossom again. She looked... worried. Either I was barking up the wrong tree, or she was a very good actress. The actress thing was more likely. She passed me a tissue from her purse all the same and I took it. I held it idly in my lap. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't mean to overwhelm you, or whatever; I was just super duper excited because I've been reading your stuff since last year, and I had no idea you were.. you know? You? I thought Mia Moore lived... well I dunno, but I didn't think I went to school with her. With you, I mean." The fact they were in public was no deterrence to Blossom; she had a pride and confidence that was unshakable in almost all situations. But meeting Mia Moore? It was apparently her kryptonite. "This is probably super duper weird and like... parasocial, for you, right? Sheesh, I'm sorry, I'm being a total dweeb." "No, I..." Damnit, she seemed so genuine. But I'd been fooled by that act before. She was friends with my neighbor - Diana - until she found out Diana still slept with her old baby blanket. Everyone at school teased Diana for months. If this was real, the poetic irony was too coincidental for me. Was all this too coincidental? Seeing her at that munch? Both of us taking the same train home? Her knowing I wrote stories online? And the content of those stories... it was a lot worse than a baby blanket. I was alight with anxiety. Adrenaline. A need to run. Or what if she was telling the truth? What if someone actually liked what I wrote? What if this wasn't a sick joke? What if Blossom was opening up to me? How naive would I have to be to believe that? How monstrous would I have to be to believe otherwise? I felt like I was going to pass out... "It's just... hard to believe," I admitted, telling the truth this time. "I mean, you're... you. I don't know why you would... I mean..." "Oh, I know, I know. People think just because I'm this tall blonde girl who dresses nice that the idea of me reading is just so wild, but lemme tell you this much, little miss: I didn't get a four-oh in college so far by not being a reader. I read a lot of stuff, although a lot of what people say is good writing is just awful. Like why do people get so hung up on Tolkien? Or Frank Herbert? It's so... boring. It's like they're freshmen just writing for a word count, you know?" Blossom definitely didn't expect to launch into a tangent on literature, but she was nervous. "Uh... I guess so." I think it was more a differentiation of period norms, but sure. I could see where she was coming from. Though that wasn't really the point I was trying to make. "I meant like... that you would read... uh... niche literature." Porn. I could just say porn. But that felt too direct. I still didn't trust her. Would I ever be able to trust her? "I mean, a lot of it is really bad… if I read another story about 'Oh no, my Mom caught me and now yadda yadda yadda' I think I might lose enough brain cells that I won't need to bleach my hair anymore. And yes, I know that's a bad stereotype but I'm allowed to make it because I'm basic." Blossom smiled, quite pleased with herself. If only she'd had a PSL in her hand. "But your stories are so smart! And like, your writing is legit good. Not even, it's legit amazing." "Uh... thank you..." How was I having this conversation with Blossom Brixley? What parallel dimension had I fallen into? Was a twelve-foot Amazon going to walk into our train car? And as with any dream, once I realized it was a dream, sometimes I didn't want to wake up. If this dream kept going like this, I didn't really want to wake up either. "So... you've read... all of them?" Was I testing her? "Which one is your favorite?" And why! And what parts did she like! And who was her favorite character! Ugh, the neediness of a writer... or was it a praise kink? Same thing, in my line of work. Oh! This was like one of those 'oh you like Star Wars? Name 9 movies then' tests! Blossom made it a point to know just a few choice pieces of obscure trivia because she liked to shut exclusionary boys down when they tried to gate-keep her friends, but this was the first time she'd actually been quizzed on something she was passionate about. "I'm up to date! I think T is my favorite because I love that 'other side of the fall' stuff and authors don't really cover that much. But I think B is definitely the hottest. Like the stuff with Bala - is that how you pronounce it? Bala? That's how I've been saying it. But when her dreams start to change... wow..." Blossom fanned herself with her hand and smiled, which only made her blush. Well, she clearly knew what she was talking about. She could have read through all my stuff just to torture me, but she would have had to know about it before the munch. There was no way she read through four and a half stories before the train came. I felt my muscles start to relax, in a 'less anxious' kind of way, not a 'start of a story' kind of way. "Yeah, I think T is a lot of people's favorite. It's very... wish fulfillment? I dunno." I looked around the train car; the evening sun had fallen behind the horizon and the lights on the ceiling were working harder than before. There were a few other groups of people nearby, but half of them were nodding off in their chairs. One kid was playing a game on his Nintendo Switch and an old guy in the back looked at his laptop screen through half-moon eyeglasses. For all intents and purposes, Blossom and I were alone... if we kept our voices down. "I think it's because it's like... okay, so at first it's this whole Stepford Wives thing, like a creepypasta or something, and then it's also got hints of a Dimension story in this whole 'normalized worldspace' thing." Blossom even made air-quotes when she said that. "At the start, Talita's still got this kind of resistance, but not really. And the idea of losing the ability to count or read? It's like that one post Daisy Fingers made when someone was like 'would you wanna be Bun?' and she's like 'sometimes, but then the idea of not actually being able to read or write or do basic things has a reality side that's actually pretty scary, so no'. That's basically how it is with T: it's wish fulfillment, but would I really want that?" Blossom paused, put one finger to her perfectly glossed lips in thought, and then nodded. "Yeah, probably," she laughed brightly. "Huh..." Yeah, Blossom had a point. Would I want that, if it was offered to me? Probably not. I sat up a little and pulled one foot up onto the chair with me, getting comfortable.

I can do that 76. The Final Choice “Just in case,” Ffrances said, and Tess realised how many times she had repeated those words in her last explanation. But they were smiling at the same time, both a little embarrassed by the conversation. “Well, I might have a double shift Monday. We always get busy in mid December, not sure why. But I’ll make sure there’s time. And if we can’t get Gabby’s little treat in before Christmas, well…” “We can do it at Christmas,” Tess chuckled, and went on to explain after seeing how bemused Ffrances was. “When I come back. You’ve heard of the twelve days of Christmas, haven’t you? It used to be a real twelve day festival, with new year right in the middle. You’d have different things on each day, like one day for giving presents, and one day you have a huge roast dinner, one day you go to church to hear the Christmas story, one day you go sing carols for the rich people, and one day you do a buffet dinner for all your neighbours, and go round the houses close by to see what everybody made. On the last day, it’s good luck to let the adults rest, while the kids take the decorations down. I mean, every country and region had their own traditions about what happens on each day, all kinds of different things. But it’s only after the industrial revolution that we scrapped a bunch of the traditions, and squeezed the rest together on the first day.” Ffrances was laughing, doing her best not to make a sound. “Okay, that’s probably the weirdest impromptu lecture I ever gave,” Tess admitted. “I saw it in a history book, and when I forgot all the stuff we were supposed to be memorising, I remembered that because it sounds cool. But what I was saying, really, is it’ll still be Christmas when I get back. No reason we can’t choose our own day to give presents on.” “Then we’ll do that. Something to look forward to, I think. For all of us. Now, I think it might be about time for us to head home. If we’re driving in circles much longer, I think I’ll need a trigger phrase to give my pelvic floor muscles some moral support.” Tess agreed with that completely, and it wasn’t long before they were home. Ffrances dashed to the bathroom immediately, while Tess said hello to her cousin, and summoned up her courage. “You were out a long time,” Gabby opened with a simple gambit. “I made a pasta bake, but I already ate. I was starting to worry.” “I already had some pizza, I thought Ffrances would have told you. But real food would still be good, thanks. We can keep leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Sorry it’s late, but we were talking about Christmas plans. You wanted me to be like a kid at Christmas, I think.” “Oh, did you talk about that already?” “As well as other things. Like, I figured out that my room hasn’t been decorated like that since before you moved in, has it? You don’t need to lie to me, you know.” By that point Gabby was hanging her head, looking down at her hands on the table. Exactly like someone whose biggest shameful secret had just been exposed. Tess wanted to comfort her, to tell her that she didn’t mind. But she was also starting to regret having this conversation as soon as she got home. She wanted to run to the bathroom, and then get changed into the outsize sweatshirt that was currently draped over the heater in her room; it would be toasty warm after the chill air outside. But this was something that wasn’t easy to interrupt once it had started. So she went through the main points. She didn’t explain all the details that she had agreed on with Ffrances, there was no point. But she said that she had figured out Gabby wanted an adult baby to look after; and Tess had seemed like she would just fit into the role. She told Gabby that she wasn’t a baby, and she didn’t want to be treated like one, but that she admitted it was a way to relax sometimes, and she was willing to play along in the right situation. Sometimes, she was very clear to emphasise, when she decided she was in the right state of mind. She told Gabby that she had a vague idea that they were thinking of getting childish presents, and said that it sounded like a fun thing to try when she came back from San Lorenzo. She also said that she would accept Gabby treating her like a child at times, even if that meant restrictions that weren’t normal for someone her age. And then she put down two big conditions, and said that they were in no way negotiable. If Gabby wanted to treat Tess like a child, or especially if she wanted to see her hypnotised again, maybe with a chance of making her feel young and helpless, she needed to agree to those rules. “First, no means no.” Tess said, taking a deep breath. “I mean, not literally. I know that kids don’t show responsibility, and they’ll argue and push boundaries for the sake of it. Maybe that’s true for me too, when I find this headspace thing. But there’s got to be some way I can tell you that I’m just not in the mood, so you know I mean it. And if I say I need you to treat me like an adult, you do it.” She argued, of course she did. Tess almost found it funny, and she would have turned the debate into a series of nonsequiteurs and bizarre logical fallacies worthy of Franz Kafka if she’d really wanted to. But she was also starting to get impatient, and regretting her failure to run to the bathroom before getting into this conversation. So she quickly shut down any disagreement by reminding Gabby that there was a simple dilemma here. She could have what she wanted with reasonable strings attached, or not at all. And Tess was very clear that she intended to tell Ffrances about their agreement right away. Gabby called her girlfriend Mistress at times, and while Tess didn’t know entirely what that meant, she was sure that it implied that Ffrances had the decision making power. If Gabby couldn’t agree to play on Tess’s terms, then she would be dealing with her Mistress’s displeasure every single time she used the word baby. “I suppose that’s reasonable. But you don’t realise when you’re pushing yourself too hard, you know. Can I stand by, if I know you’re making life harder for yourself and a little refuge in your headspace could make it better again? You say you know your own mind, but Ffrances will tell you–” “People don’t see their own problems, I know. So, fine. If you really think it will help me but I’m resisting out of some misplaced desire to be an adult, then get agreement from a majority of the people I’d trust with that decision. If you can convince Ffrances and Spike that I’m doing something that’s not good for me, I’ll assume you guys can see what I’m blinding myself to.” “That little–” “Take it or leave it. You can have your heart’s greatest desire. Or you can explain to your girlfriend that you’ve wasted all the effort she put into planning this, because you can’t accept the terms that she insists on.” “Fine. But you shouldn’t trust a guy like that. It’s not right for a grown man to hang around with kids your age.” Tess rolled her eyes. She contemplated saying something about their relative ages, but she didn’t want to draw this out any more than she had to. And for a change Gabby wasn’t actually trying to interfere. Tess had found some leverage powerful enough that her cousin might consider tolerating Spike’s importance to her, or at least acknowledging it. That was a bigger thing than she had hoped. “And second,” she said, pushing on in the hope that Gabby would have slightly less resistance to the second rule. “I’m not the youngest. If you’re treating me like a kid, I can cope with that. But things like those games in the garden, or the little Christmas party, I’ll get too nervous if I’ve got no responsibility. The things I take charge of are like the mainspring that keeps me ticking. So there’s always a little one.” She could see Gabby’s face falling, but kept talking to head off any interruptions: “I know it’s hard to find someone to play that role. But if I can find somebody willing to be my little sister, you don’t get to object to that. You can’t object to looking after two kids, because I will help out. I’m pretty sure a kid looking after a baby to keep Mommy from being overwhelmed isn’t such a weird thing. I already asked Ffrances.” “And you think she’ll agree to–” “She’s going to be my little sister. She said she’s willing to give it a try this time. We’re agreed that it’s worth doing once at least. Want to argue? Is that because you’re so focused on your own desires and you don’t want me to get what I want out of it? Or are you going to say you own your girlfriend and you want to have a veto on her choices?” Gabby still argued. It seemed almost like she had to feel like she was in control, but it was clear she was struggling to come up with any real points to debate. She almost seemed to imply that acting like a little kid was somehow wrong, and that Ffrances shouldn’t have to do something like that, until Ffrances herself appeared to point out that Gabby had been pressuring Tess into it. “You promised that you would always do what I decided is best,” Frances spoke very sternly. “Remember? I have talked to Tess already, and she has some understanding of what littlespace is, and how it will fit into her life. You can play by her rules, or drop it completely.” And Gabby still argued. Tess was barely saying anything now, focusing too much on her own discomfort, and how long she had been standing in the kitchen talking. She wondered if Gabby was actually going to say ‘no’ to her rules for a moment… but when Ffrances said she would prohibit her calling Tess ‘baby’, and that she would guarantee there was no more pressure on the matter, she quickly relented. “Fine,” Gabby muttered. “But I know you. You’re giving up too much for this, we can find another little. But it’s not my place to interfere with anything between you two. So I’ll accept your rules. And we’ll see how that turns out.” Tess tried to listen; she knew that they were talking about things that would have a huge impact on her lifestyle while she stayed here. But this was the third drawn-out conversation in a row, and she’d been on her feet for way too long. As Gabby finally relented, Tess found that she couldn’t wait another second. She wanted to run to the bathroom right away, but the instant she started tensing a muscle to move she felt her bladder twitch in sympathy. There was nothing she could do to stop it. While Gabby served up Ffrances’s dinner, and the two of them talked in codewords about the dynamics of their relationship, Tess could only stand behind the kitchen table and hope that they didn’t notice her wetting herself. Poor Tess. I wonder how that could have happened…

Dang kinda hoped he would have quit his job and lived happily with Christina as her baby for the rest of their lives. This ending just makes me feel sad.

Chapter 22 - The End of Babyhood I woke up Sunday morning feeling slightly subdued. This was my final day of freedom from being an adult. Tomorrow, I would be waking up early to go back to stacking shelves in a supermarket. It wasn’t exactly something that I was looking forward to. However, it would also be my chance to spend some more time with Samantha and hopefully tell her how I felt. I sighed and looked up at the farmyard animals floating above my head. They were motionless and the crib mobile was silent. It was almost as if it was telling me that my time as a baby was almost up. I sucked gently on my dummy and suddenly noticed the foul smell in the air. I instantly knew that I had messed my nappy in the night but it didn’t bother me. After taking Samantha’s words on board yesterday, I realised that incontinence was a part of me and I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. It wasn’t long before Christina entered the nursery. ‘Morning my cute little baby’, she cooed before the smell hit her, ‘or should I say my stinky little baby?’ I giggled in my crib at Christina’s joke. She walked over and let down the side of the crib before leading me over to the changing table. Christina barely reacted as she opened up my messy nappy. I guess by now that she was used to it. I raised my legs and allowed her to begin wiping my bottom. She sighed, ‘I know this is going to sound odd, but I’m really going to miss you’. With the dummy in my mouth, I could do nothing but look up at her. ‘I definitely won’t miss changing your smelly nappies’, she giggled, ‘but I’ll miss everything else’. She removed my dummy to allow me to speak. ‘I’m really going to miss you too Auntie’, I said, ‘maybe I could still come and visit you every now and then’. ‘I’d like that’, Christina smiled, ‘although I’m sure that you’ll be too busy with Samantha’. ‘I hope so’, I chuckled, ‘I’m just going to miss the special bond that we have Auntie’. ‘Well then’, grinned Christina, ‘let’s make your last day as a baby as special as we can’. After having my nappy changed, we headed downstairs for breakfast. Christina strapped me into the highchair and tied a bib around my neck before starting breakfast. ‘Do you like pancakes Jake?’ she asked. ‘I love pancakes’, I said licking my lips. I watched eagerly as she whipped up some pancakes before turning to me. ‘Did you want some chocolate spread on them?’ she asked. I nodded my head eagerly and watched as she spread the chocolate all over the pancakes. It wasn’t long until she had prepared my breakfast and brought it over to me on a plastic plate along with some plastic cutlery. After placing my breakfast on the highchair tray, she sat down at the dining table to eat her food, allowing me to feed myself for once. Unfortunately, as I looked up at my hands that had the mittens tied around them, I sighed and knew that this was going to be a struggle. I managed to pick up my knife and fork which I held onto tightly. However, as I attempted to cut my food, I quickly realised that the pancakes were tougher than the cutlery was. I used all of my strength to desperately cut my food but it was no good. In the end, I resorted to using the plastic cutlery to rip apart the pancakes instead. Although I had ripped them into smaller pieces, trying to get a piece of pancake into my mouth was yet another challenge. The only way that I managed to do it was to hold the piece of food between the fork and knife and carefully lift it into my mouth. It tasted delicious and it made a nice change from cereal. However, I wasn’t so lucky when taking my next mouthful. Just as the pancake reached my mouth, it slid out of the cutlery and down my bib. ‘Messy baby’, giggled Christina who had been watching me struggle. ‘Can you take these mittens off please?’ I asked. ‘Not yet, I wouldn’t want to spoil all the fun’, she chuckled, ‘have another go sweetie, I know you can do it’. I scooped up another piece of pancake and gently brought to my mouth. As I attempted to eat it, the food once again slipped out of the cutlery. However, I managed to catch it and held the piece of pancake against my chin using the plastic fork. I carefully slide it up my chin and into my mouth, smearing chocolate spread all around my mouth in the process. I continued to mindfully eat the rest of my breakfast. I ended up spilling most of it down me but managed to get a good deal of it into my mouth. As I finished my last bite, I heard a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be your Mummy’, beamed Christina as she got up and answered the door. I heard them greeting each other before making their way towards the kitchen. My mother walked in and started laughing as she saw me sitting in the highchair with my mouth covered in chocolate spread. ‘Look at the state of you’, she joked, ‘I’m not quite sure that you’re ready to start feeding yourself again just yet’. ‘I’ve made pancakes for breakfast if you’d like some?’ said Christina. ‘That sounds lovely, thank you’, replied my mother. Christina placed a bottle of juice onto my highchair tray before joining my mother at the dining table. As the two women began eating, I grabbed my bottle with both of my hands and started drinking my juice. I could only imagine how babyish I looked as I sat in the highchair, drinking my bottle using both hands with chocolate spread smeared all around my mouth. The bonnet and mittens were the finishing touch no doubt. I sat and drank my juice quietly whilst my mother and Christina had a chat and finished their food. After breakfast was finished, Christina and my mother walked over to me. Christina began rubbing my back whilst my mother wiped my face. It didn’t take long before I let out a loud burp. ‘Good boy’, smiled Christina. ‘I think someone enjoyed their pancakes’, cooed my mother. I was used to the babyish comments made towards me and smiled back in return. I was finally let out of the highchair and we made our way into the living room. ‘Well, since this is Jakes last day, I guess I’d better start tidying some of this stuff up’, said Christina as she looked around the living room full of babyish items. ‘I can help you’, smiled my mother. ‘Me too’, I added. Christina grinned at me, ‘aw that’s very sweet of you Jake’, she cooed, ‘but this is a job for the grown-ups’. My mother led me over to the playpen and lifted me into it. I grumbled at having to sit in the playpen. However, my mood changed when I saw Christina putting on an episode of Bluey. I moved to the edge of the playpen so that I was closer to the TV. As the two women began tidying up around the house, I held my cuddly dinosaur in my lap and enjoyed watching Bluey. I looked over at my mother. ‘Mummy, can I have my dummy please?’ I asked. ‘Of course you can’, she grinned as she brought it over to me, ‘open wide’. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and allowed her to slip the rubber nipple into my mouth. ‘Fankyou’, I babbled. ‘Aw, you’re welcome pumpkin’, my mother cooed. I sucked gently on my dummy and was determined to enjoy whatever time I had left as a baby. After an hour or two, I yawned loudly and let the dummy fall out of my mouth. ‘I think someone’s ready for their nap’, smiled Christina. I nodded. ‘Hang on a minute’, said my mother, ‘I’m not sure that we should put him down for a nap’. ‘But I’m tired’, I complained and desperately wanted to be in my crib. ‘You’ve got to go to work tomorrow’, replied my mother, ‘I don’t think they’ll be letting you go for a nap during your shift. We need to get you used to staying awake for the whole day. ‘But I’m sleepy’, I cried and started to have a little tantrum. ‘I know what you can have instead’, smiled Christina and went into the kitchen. I was still gently sobbing until she returned. ‘Who wants a Bluey cookie?’ she beamed. Suddenly, I stopped crying and a big grin appeared on my face. ‘Me Auntie!’ I cheered gleefully. As she handed it to me, I immediately dropped it and struggled to pick it back up. My mother saw me struggling and walked over to the playpen. ‘I think maybe it’s time we took these off of you’, she said before removing my bonnet and mittens. It felt strange not having them on but I was pleased that I could pick up my cookie and eat it. For the rest of the afternoon, I was allowed to get out of the playpen and do some colouring. Christina and my mother were both super impressed at all of my pictures. I wondered if Samantha would be impressed by my colouring skills. I thought back to how cute she had looked when drinking from a baby bottle yesterday. Maybe she would enjoy some of the other babyish stuff as well. Before I could think anymore, it was time for dinner. As we walked into the kitchen, the first thing that I noticed was that the highchair was no longer at the dining table. Instead, it was folded away in the corner of the room. I looked at Christina in confusion. ‘I think it’s about time you sat at the grown-up table’, said Christina with a slight sadness in her voice. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I had been so used to eating in the highchair all this time. I sat at the dining table and waited patiently for my food. I was surprised yet again when Christina brought over a roast dinner that she had prepared along with a glass of coke that she placed in front of me. ‘Can I trust you without a bib?’ she giggled. ‘I guess so’, I smiled in return. As Christina and my mother began to tuck into their meals, I felt very odd. Apart from wearing a romper and a nappy, every other babyish item seemed to have disappeared. It almost felt like a foreign concept to be eating with a normal knife and fork and drinking from a glass instead of a bottle. I had to admit though that it did feel nice to be drinking coke instead of juice. My mother looked over at me, ‘I hear that you and Samantha have been getting along pretty well’. ‘Oh…erm yeah, she’s pretty cool’, I replied. My mother giggled, ‘aw my little Jake has a crush’. I blushed and didn’t really want to talk about my potentional love life. ‘You should ask her out for a drink tomorrow’, suggested Christina. ‘I don’t know’, I replied, ‘I’m a little bit nervous’. ‘She’s a lovely girl’, Christina smiled, ‘I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to go on a date with you’. I smiled and continued to eat my dinner whilst doing my best to avoid the subject. The thought of seeing Samantha again really excited me, I just didn’t want to blow my chance with her. As I finished my dinner, a foul smell suddenly filled the air. I instantly recognised the smell and knew that I had messed myself. For some reason it felt even more belittling than usual. I was finally allowed to begin my journey back to adulthood and sit at the dining table with the adults yet I’d suddenly filled my nappy like a baby. My mother was the second one to notice the smell. ‘You certainly don’t want to be doing that on your date with Samantha’, she joked. I blushed and hoped that it wouldn’t happen. ‘I’m happy to change him if you don’t mind clearing up in here’, said Christina. ‘Sure thing’, replied my mother. With that, Christina took me back up to the nursery one final time. As we entered, I immediately went over to the changing table and hopped on. Christina got out the changing supplies before turning to me and sighing. ‘One final nappy change?’ she asked as she removed my romper. ‘Yes please Auntie’, I replied. It was a sombre moment and I think we both wished that my time with Christina could last forever. She opened up my nappy to see the mess that I had made. ‘It’s going to feel strange not to be wiping any bottoms tomorrow’, she laughed, ‘you’ll have to start doing it yourself from now on’. I realised that she was right. It wasn’t going to be pleasant but I would have to start taking responsibility for whatever mess I made in my nappy from now on. I noticed that Christina took her time cleaning me, almost as if she was savouring every moment. She carefully wiped around my butt hole and triple checked that I was clean. She placed a fresh nappy underneath me and sprinkled some powder onto my genitals and bottom. ‘Did you want to have a go at putting your nappy on?’ she asked. I sat up and pulled the nappy over my privates. Christina showed me how to tape it on nice and tightly. For a first attempt, the nappy felt pretty snug and I was confident that I would be able to take care of my nappy changes from now on. As I hopped off the changing table, Christina handed me my backpack that I had brought with me at the very beginning of our time together. ‘I guess I’ll leave you to get dressed’, she said with a slight sadness in her voice. I nodded in agreement and got myself dressed after she had left the room. After getting back into my regular clothes I picked up my bag. As I walked over to the door, I stopped and turned around. It sounded silly but I was really going to miss the nursery. I looked over at the changing table where I’d had so many nappy changes. I then turned my attention to the crib. I’d had so many care free nights in the crib and it really felt like my safe place. I was sad to be leaving it behind but knew that it was the right thing to do. With that, I turned around and left the nursery. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I looked around the living room. Apart from the playpen in the corner, you couldn’t even tell that I had been staying here. After another half an hour or so, it was time to leave. My mother had offered to help me get settled back into my apartment. I put my shoes on before turning to Christina and gave her a big hug. ‘Thank you for everything’, I smiled. ‘I should be thanking you Jake’, she replied, ‘I’ve enjoyed every minute of our time together. Don’t be a stranger though, I’ve still got all of your toys here if you ever want to visit’. ‘I’d like that’, I whispered, ‘I love you Auntie’. ‘I love you too sweetheart’, she replied and kissed me on top of my head. She then handed me a large plastic bag. ‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘Have a look when you get home’, she grinned, ‘it’s just a little something for you to remember our time together’. We said our final goodbyes before walking outside. Without thinking about it, I held onto my mother’s hand. I quickly let go. ‘Sorry’, I blushed, ‘force of habit’. ‘You can hold my hand anytime you like’, my mother chuckled. I walked with my mother back to my apartment. It felt very strange being back home. Part of me wanted to run back to Christina but I was determined to stand on my own two legs for a change and embrace adulthood. ‘I came round here the other day to tidy up for you and noticed that you didn’t have any hot water’, said my mother. I had forgotten about that. ‘I’ve sorted it out for you though’, my mother smiled, ‘you just needed to reset your boiler. I’ve got you some food in as well and I’ve done a bit of your laundry’. ‘Thanks Mummy’, I replied. My mother chuckled again, ‘I don’t mind you calling me Mummy but just make sure you don’t do it when you introduce me to Samantha’. We both laughed. I took a hot shower whilst my mother tidied a few things away. Afterwards, I got dry before walking into my bedroom to find that my mother had placed a clean nappy on the bed for me. I let my towel drop to the floor just as my mother walked in. ‘Do you need any help?’ she asked. I quickly covered up, ‘I’m good thanks’. My mother put her hands on her hips, ‘are you really covering up now after all those nappy changes I’ve given you?’ ‘Sorry’ I apologised, ‘it feels weird not being in the nursery’. ‘Well, I can get you a crib for your birthday if you’d like’, she joked. I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. My mother observed me as I put my nappy on and agreed that I had done a good job. ‘Right then’, she said, ‘get into bed’. ‘Now?’ I asked, ‘I wanted to see what Christina had given me’. ‘You said you were tired earlier’, replied my mother, ‘plus you’ve got work in the morning’. I reluctantly agreed and got under my duvet. It was a warm night and so I decided to sleep in just my nappy. ‘Do you think I’ll always be incontinent?’ I asked. ‘Not at all’, replied my mother, ‘I’ve potty trained you once, I’m sure I could do it again’. ‘I wouldn’t mind that’, I admitted. I still enjoyed wearing nappies but I wanted it to be out of leisure rather than necessity. ‘I’ll see if I can get you some Pull Ups, I’m sure they do adult sized ones’, said my mother before she started giggling, ‘I could even get you a little training potty to sit on’. By this point I had experienced eating out of a highchair, sleeping in a crib and playing in a playpen. Sitting on a training potty really didn’t seem too bad. ‘I’ll pop back and see you at some point in the week’, said my mother as she leant in and kissed me on my forehead, ‘night night’. ‘Night night Mummy’, I smiled. My mother turned off my bedroom light before I heard her gathering her things and walking out the door. However, the second the door had closed, I leapt back out of bed and turned on the light. I was desperate to see what Christina had given me. I found the plastic bag and brought it into my bedroom. I sat on the bed and looked inside. The first thing I pulled out was my colouring book and crayons. I smiled and put them into my drawer. The other item in the bag was my stuffed dinosaur. I took him out and held him in my arms before I saw one more thing at the bottom of the bag. I reached in and pulled out my dinosaur dummy, the first dummy that Christina had bought for me. I put it into my mouth and got back into bed. I tucked in my dinosaur next to me before kissing it on the head through my dummy. I reached over for my phone and got up a YouTube playlist of non-stop nursery rhymes. As the familiar tune of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ filled the room, I closed my eyes and started to fall asleep whilst gently sucking on my dummy and hugging my dinosaur. I smiled and felt confident about embracing adult life again, even if I did still have a few babyish habits. I wasn’t quite what you would call a ‘proper grown-up’, but I would get there…eventually. THE END If you’ve made it to the end, thank you for reading my story. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. I feel like this is a good place to end. Jake is now ready to tackle adult life again whilst retaining some of his babyish attributes. I have written an additional two chapters which I will post soon. These will serve as a little look into the next part of Jake’s adventure although I feel that this will become a new story separate to this one. As always, any comments are appreciated.

CHAPTER 2 Jacob waited until the sink faucet squeaked off and Lana’s bedroom door clicked shut before he dared to move. The diaper crinkled obscenely as he sat up, the sound magnified in the quiet room. He peeled back the sheets with careful slowness, half-expecting Lana to burst back in at the noise, but the house stayed silent save for the hum of the fridge downstairs. The dryer light was still on when he padded barefoot into the laundry room, the warmth hitting him like a breath. His pajamas sat folded on top of the stack—or at least, what *used* to be his pajamas. The fabric felt oddly stiff as he shook them out, the cotton tighter than he remembered. He tugged the pants up his legs, wincing as the waistband strained over the bulk of the diaper. The hem stopped a full inch above his ankles, the fabric pulling taut across his thighs with every step. Lana must have washed them with the sheets. The shirt was worse. The sleeves rode up past his wrists, the hem barely skimming the top of the diaper’s waistband. Jacob twisted in front of the smudged mirror above the dryer, his reflection warped by age and humidity. The diaper peeked out beneath the shrunken shirt like some shameful secret, the plastic gleaming under the fluorescent light. He tugged at the hem uselessly, but it sprang back, revealing the telltale tapes at his hips. A floorboard creaked overhead. Jacob froze, hands still clutching the too-small shirt. Lana’s footsteps moved across the ceiling—pausing, just for a beat, right above the laundry room. His pulse hammered in his throat as he imagined her standing there, ear cocked, listening for the rustle of plastic. But then the footsteps continued, fading toward her bedroom. Jacob exhaled shakily and reached for the doorknob. The hallway was dark, the only light spilling from under Lana’s door. Jacob crept past it on bare feet, the diaper whispering against the inside of the shrunken pajama pants with every step. He was almost to his room when the floor groaned under his weight—a sharp, splintering sound that seemed to echo through the entire house. Lana's door swung open with a theatrical creak just as Jacob froze mid-step, the diaper crinkling like a live microphone in the silent hallway. Golden light spilled around her silhouette, illuminating the absurdity of his shrunken pajamas clinging to his frame—the pants straining over the diaper's bulk, the shirt riding up to expose the plastic waistband like some tragic midriff trend. Her hand flew to her mouth, but not fast enough to smother the snort that escaped. "Oh my god, Jacob," she gasped between barely-contained giggles, leaning against the doorframe for support. Her robe gaped slightly with the motion, revealing the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her collarbone. "I am *so* sorry—I didn't realize your jammies were in with the sheets." She bit her lower lip, the effort to maintain a straight face making her shoulders shake. "You look like a teenager who outgrew his clothes overnight but his mom hasn't noticed yet." Jacob's face burned hotter than the laundry room dryer. He crossed his arms over his exposed midsection, the diaper's waistband digging into his ribs. "It's not funny," he muttered, but the way his voice cracked undermined the protest. Lana wiped imaginary tears from her eyes, her laughter subsiding into occasional hiccups. "Oh, sweetheart, it's *a little* funny." She reached out to pinch the sleeve of his shirt, stretching the fabric until the seam groaned. "Remember when you were twelve and refused to admit you'd outgrown your dinosaur pajamas? You wore them until the feet ripped open." Her thumb brushed his elbow—fond, familiar—before letting go. "You'll be fine wearing them tonight." Jacob hesitated at the bathroom door, fingers hovering over the diaper’s tapes. The plastic was already warm from his body heat, the padding pressing insistently against him in a way that made his stomach twist. He just needed to peel it off—just for a second—to prove he could still use the toilet like a normal person. Jacob exhaled sharply through his nose as Lana’s knuckles rapped against the bathroom door. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” she called, her voice muffled through the wood. The doorknob jiggled—testing, not turning—and Jacob’s fingers spasmed against the diaper’s tapes. “And please try to use the potty like a big boy,” she added, the mocking request landing like a stone in his stomach. He stared at his reflection—flushed cheeks, shrunken pajamas, the diaper’s waistband peeking above his waistline—and gritted his teeth. He pulled his tight pajama bottoms down and wondered what to do. The tapes refused to budge and started to rip the plastic when he peeled the left one back. Jacob exhaled through his nose and hooked his thumbs under the diaper's waistband, wincing as the tapes strained against his hips. He tugged downward in slow increments—left side first, then right—the plastic resisting like a too-tight bandage. Cold air hit his thighs as the padding slid halfway down, the sudden exposure making his stomach flip. He aimed carefully, shoulders tense, listening for the faint patter against porcelain. The stream was pitiful—barely more than a trickle—and cut off abruptly while his bladder still ached. He gritted his teeth, willing more out, but his body refused to cooperate. The diaper sagged awkwardly as he pulled it back up, the tapes loosened from his fumbling. One side gaped slightly, the adhesive weakened. Jacob hesitated, running a finger along the wrinkled plastic. *Probably fine,* he thought, yanking his shrunken pajama pants over the bulk. The fabric stretched obscenely across the diaper's outline, the waistband digging into his hips. He flushed the toilet without looking—half-expecting Lana to burst in and check—then shuffled toward the sink. Toothpaste foamed pink in the bowl as he spat, the mint doing nothing to cut through the baby powder clinging to his palate. The diaper shifted under his pajamas with every movement, the loosened side slipping incrementally lower. He tugged at his waistband instinctively, but the damage was done—the tapes had lost some of their grip, the plastic whispering against his thighs with every step. The bedroom door clicked shut behind Jacob with a soft finality that made his shoulders sag. He stood there for a long moment, fingers still curled around the knob, the diaper shifting subtly beneath his too-tight pajamas. The faint crinkling sounded deafening in the silence—a humiliating reminder of the absurdity of the last few hours He exhaled sharply through his nose and let go of the door, padding across the room on stiff legs. The mattress groaned as he collapsed onto it, the diaper puffing up around his hips in a way that made his stomach twist. He stared at the ceiling fan’s lazy rotation, counting the uneven clicks between rotations as if they might somehow order the chaos in his head. *Overreacting.* That’s all this was. Lana had always been dramatic—like the time she’d threatened to donate all his video games when he failed algebra, or when she’d made him wear a “I forgot to do my chores” sign to school for a week after neglecting the dishes when he was in grade school. This was just another one of her exaggerated power plays. A few dry nights, maybe a grudging apology for being lazy promising to correct himself and they’d never speak of it again. Outside, a car door slammed—probably Amanda returning from some late-night errand. Jacob pictured her balancing grocery bags while Tommy slept in his car seat, probably not even wearing a pull-up at this point. The thought made his jaw clench. Jacob rolled onto his side, the diaper rustling like a bag of chips under his weight. The shrunken pajama pants dug into his waist, the elastic leaving indent marks on his skin. He hooked a thumb under the waistband, tugging futilely at the fabric, but it sprang back with a quiet snap. The motion made the diaper shift again, the loosened tape on one side peeling away slightly with a sound like Velcro giving up. Jacob melted into his mattress. The last thing Jacob remembered was the ceiling fan's hypnotic wobble—three slow rotations, then a click, then three more—before exhaustion dragged him under. Sunlight stabbed through the curtains like a knife, slicing across his face. Jacob groaned, rolling away from the assault—only to freeze as cold wetness seeped up his side. The sheets clung to his hip, soaked through. His stomach dropped before his brain even registered the telltale crinkle between his legs. *No. No no no—* He bolted upright, the diaper sagging heavily against his thighs. The one tape had held—barely—but the other came loose, warm liquid seeping through the leg gathers onto the mattress. A dark stain spread beneath him, the outline unmistakable. Jacob's breath came in shallow bursts as he peeled the diaper away, the wet padding peeling off his skin with a sound that made his ears burn. Down the hall, the shower had been running and just shut off—Lana’s morning ritual. The pipes groaned like old bones. Jacob stared at the sodden mess in his hands, the reality crashing over him: *He’d slept through it. Entirely.* No frantic half-awake scramble to the bathroom, no hazy memory of stumbling to the toilet. Just... nothing. Jacob lunged for the sheets, fingers scrabbling at the damp fabric like he could somehow erase the evidence through sheer force. The mattress squeaked as he yanked them free, the wet patch glistening under the morning light—too big, too obvious. His pulse hammered in his throat as he balled them up, shoving the incriminating bundle into the hamper with a choked sound halfway between a groan and a whimper. Then his bladder twinged, a sharp reminder that panic hadn’t canceled basic biology. He spun toward the bathroom, the diaper drooping with each frantic step. The first stride tore the left side completely; the right gave way mid-step, sending the sodden padding slithering down his thigh to puddle around his ankles. He stumbled, pinwheeling arms catching the doorframe just in time to avoid face-planting onto the tiles. The toilet seat was cold against his bare skin as he collapsed onto it, legs splayed around the ruined diaper crumpled on the floor. His stream hit the water with a shaky, uneven patter—too late, too little. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair. The scent of baby powder and stale urine clung to him, mingling with the sharp tang of his own sweat. Jacob barely had time to kick the ruined diaper under the sink before he opened the bathroom door to see Lana, arms crossed and a look that could melt a glacier. She stood there, robe cinched tight, her damp hair dripping onto the tiles. Her gaze locked onto Jacob's bare thighs, then flicked to the pajama pants clutched in his white-knuckled grip. The silence stretched three heartbeats too long. "You," she said, voice dangerously quiet, "are unbelievable." Her bare foot tapped against the floor—once, twice—before she strode forward and yanked his wet overnight briefs from under the cabinet open. The diaper slid into view like a damning piece of evidence, the swollen padding sagging pathetically. Lana made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. Jacob's throat clicked as he tried to speak, but Lana was already grabbing his elbow, her fingers digging in as she marched him towards his bed. The diaper crinkled in her other hand like an accusation. "I told you," she hissed, shoving him towards his wet mattress so hard he stumbled over the rumpled sheets. He scrambled backward onto the bed, pajama pants still tangled in his hands, as Lana loomed over him with the diaper dangling from her fingertips. The morning light caught the wet stain spreading across the front, making it glisten obscenely. Her nostrils flared. "Did you even *try* to use the toilet last night?" Jacob opened his mouth—to lie, to beg, he wasn't sure—but Lana cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Don't." She tossed the soiled diaper onto the floor with a wet splat and reached for the package on his dresser. She took out a diaper with expert precision. "Arms up." Lana's fingers hooked under the hem of Jacob's damp shirt before he could react. The fabric stretched tight—too tight—as she yanked it upward, the seams pulling like they might rip apart. Jacob's arms flailed instinctively, elbows knocking against hers as the shirt peeled away with a sound like tape ripping off skin. Morning air from the open window hit his bare chest like a slap, raising goosebumps across his ribs. Lana must have wanted to air out the smell and lifted it when he was in the washroom. He was now completely bare, once again, lying down with his stepmom hovering over him. Lana dropped the shirt onto the wet sheets with deliberate carelessness, her gaze raking over Jacob's exposed torso. "Look at you," she muttered, shaking her head. Her damp hair again clinging to the collar of her robe, the scent of flowery shampoo clashing with the sweet smell of baby powder. "Eighteen years old and I have to dress you like an infant." She pinched the diaper's waistband between two fingers, giving it a sharp tug that made Jacob's breath hitch. "Guess that's appropriate, huh? Since you're clearly regressing and peed the bed AGAIN." Jacob's throat clicked as he swallowed. His member twitched again, not trying to understand why as much as try to ignore it. Lana's nails scraped his hipbone and traced along his waist, her exhale hot against his collarbone. "Pathetic," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She started rustling the diaper to get it ready for Jacob and he decided not to argue about what he knew was going to come next. Jacob squeezed his eyes shut, but Lana's laughter forced them open again—a sharp, humorless sound that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that face," she chided, tapping his bare thigh with the new, fresh diaper. "These will have to do for today," She shook the diaper one last time and lifted his legs, "These pharmacy diapers just won't do." Lana's fingers dug into Jacob's hips as she rolled him onto his side with practiced efficiency, the cold air hitting his bare skin making him shiver. The fresh diaper crinkled ominously as she slid it beneath him, her nails scraping his thigh just hard enough to leave faint red marks. "You know the rules," she murmured, shaking baby powder over him with exaggerated care. The white cloud puffed around his groin, settling into the creases of his thighs with embarrassing precision. "A wet diaper at night means diapers during the day. And the wet sheets, well... you'll see." Jacob's breath hitched as she smoothed the powder into his skin, her fingers brushing dangerously close to where he was trying desperately not to react. Lana chuckled low in her throat—a sound that vibrated through his ribs—and tapped his inner thigh. "So tense," she mused, snapping the front of the diaper up between his legs with a sharp flick of her wrist. "Relax, sweetheart. Unless you want me to think you're enjoying this?" The first tape sealed with a crisp *rrrip*, the adhesive biting into his hipbone as she pulled it snug. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only seemed to amuse her more. Her breath ghosted over his ear as she leaned in to fasten the second side. "You know," she murmured, her manicured nail making him twitch, "Tommy's officially been dry at night for two weeks now." The diaper's plastic rustled as she gave it a final pat, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. "And he's *three*." Jacob barely had time to process the humiliation before Lana surprised him by grabbing *another* diaper from the package, shaking it out with a crisp snap. "Wha—" His protest died as she layered it over the first, doubling the thickness between his legs with clinical detachment. The extra padding pressed against him with unmistakable bulk, the crinkling now unmistakable with every slight shift. "Insurance," Lana said briskly, dusting another round of powder between the layers. The scent of baby powder clung thickly to the air now, cloying and infantilizing. She smoothed the second diaper's gathers with methodical precision, her fingers lingering just a beat too long at the inner seams. "One diaper wasn't enough last night, so why should I trust one would be good enough for this morning?" The tapes sealed with deliberate slowness this time, each *rrrip* punctuated by her quiet exhale. Lana patted the doubled diaper’s front with a satisfied smack, the plastic crinkling obscenely loud under her palm. "There we go," she cooed, dragging her fingers along the waistband in a way that made Jacob’s skin prickle. "Such a good boy for Mommy." The words landed like a branding iron, searing straight through his chest. She straightened up, brushing powder from her robe as she surveyed him—bare-chested, legs splayed around the absurd bulk of his diapers. "Now let’s find you something… suitable to wear." She turned toward his closet with a sway in her step that felt deliberate, the robe’s belt swinging like a pendulum counting down his humiliation. Jacob watched, frozen, as she yanked the door open with a force that made the hangers rattle. Her fingers skipped past his hoodies, his graphic tees, even the button-down he’d worn to his cousin’s wedding last summer—zeroing in on a faded navy blue shirt shoved to the back. "Ah," she breathed, pulling it free with a flourish. The fabric stretched tight between her fists, the seams straining. "Remember this?" Jacob’s stomach dropped. An eighth-grade field trip shirt—the one that had been tight even then. Lana shook it out, the sleeves looking short and clearly made for a thirteen-year-old. "Perfect," she murmured, holding it up to Jacob’s shoulders. The hem would barely graze his navel now. "Lana—" His protest died as she tugged the shirt over his head without waiting for compliance. The collar caught on his chin, the fabric stretching tight across his shoulders as she wrestled it down. Cotton strained slightly against his biceps, the sleeves stretching just slightly longer than his pajama shirt. Jacob gasped as the hem rode up, exposing a strip of pale belly—and the stark white waistband of his diapers. Lana stepped back, lips pursed in appraisal. "Adorable," she declared, adjusting the neckline until it choked his Adam’s apple. The shirt clung to every contour of his torso, the V of the collar gaping to reveal his collarbones. She smoothed her hands down his arms, fingertips catching on the raised seams. "Still fits," she lied cheerfully, pinching the sleeve where it dug into his bicep. Lana's fingers dug into Jacob's biceps as she hauled him upright, the doubled diapers crinkling obscenely under the stretched hem of his old shirt. "Up," she ordered, her voice sharp as a snapped rubber band. Jacob staggered to his feet, the diaper bulk forcing his thighs apart in an awkward waddle. Cold air rushed over his exposed legs—wait, *exposed*— "Pants," he blurted, grabbing at the waistband of his diaper as if it could somehow preserve his dignity. "I need—" Lana's laugh cut through his protest like shears through tissue paper. She swept a hand toward his bare thighs, the diaper's plastic gleaming under the morning light. "I think I'd rather keep a close eye on it," Her manicured nail tapped the swollen padding where it peeked beneath his shirt. "No pants today, sweetheart. Now *move*." Jacob's face burned as she propelled him toward the door, the diapers whispering with every step. His toes curled against the hardwood, hyperaware of the way the floorboards creaked under his unsteady gait. Halfway down the hall, a draft from the vent licked up his bare legs, raising goosebumps beneath the diaper's waistband.

2.) "So, do you do the whole 'munch' thing a lot? I kinda freaked out when I saw you, I gotta admit..." That munch was my first. I was hoping to run into someone who knew about my stories, but not like this. God, not like this. "I've been to a few! But mostly it winds up with older men wanting my phone number, or couples wanting me to go home with them - it's honestly like being in high school again." High school was, for Blossom, a very different experience to Mia. "But the people are mostly nice and I usually don't end up paying for my own food. It's kinda neat to see people out in the world. Like a sanity-check, a reminder that behind that aol.com email-address-based username is a real person. How about you, Mia? I haven't seen you at one of them before." "Uh... no, this is kind of new territory for me." I looked down at my hands and picked at my fingernails. The night ended a lot sooner than I expected. I probably wouldn't go to another one. "I mostly stick to online stuff. Forums, Twitter. I wanna join a friend's Discord server but I feel like it will really get in the way of my schoolwork." "You won't know until you try!" Blossom said. "That's what my Dad said whenever I was unsure about something, and for a long time I never took his advice. But then, when I finally listened, my life got a whole lot better." Coincidentally, that was about the same time Blossom... well, bloomed. Getting stacked was definitely helpful in her finding her confidence, though no amount of body development would undo how tall she was. "I'm proud of you for going. To the munch, I mean. If you hadn't, I wouldn't be here legit talking to my favorite author in the whole world!" "Internet author," I corrected, but Blossom looked at me with uncharacteristic certainty. Confidence was one thing you could always find somewhere on Blossom's face. She would say something wrong and say something right with about the same conviction, and she usually wouldn't change her mind one way or the other. But this was different; this time she was sure. I was a little taken aback. "Seriously?" "Seriously! So liiiiike when you started posting K, I totes blew off a date with this real hottie just so I could stay home and read. And then I reread the other Academy stories to see if there was stuff I'd missed, even though you'd only posted like two chapters of K! If I had room on my wall I'd totally have a conspiracy board with red twine and stuff, and a picture of Ai in the center!" There was this light to Blossom when she gushed, a fire in her voice, a genuine... passion. "Ai hasn't even been in the series for two stories," I smiled dumbly. I never got to talk about my writing! "Why would she be in the center?" "Because! Her name is like a pun, it's like Ai, but it's also I, like 'me' like 'ego'. She's like the reader self-insert, representing our curiosity and stuff!" This was clearly a theory she'd been percolating on for a while. "Huh." That actually made a lot of sense. Was that my intention? Not really. But it was naive to assume Ai wouldn't come back sooner or later. "So what other theories do you have?" I asked. I honestly wasn't milking her for ideas; I just wanted her to talk about it. Anything about it. The characters, the plot, the smutty ageplay stuff. I wanted her to tell me every single thing she felt and thought about Academy Works. I wanted to know I made something lovable. "This train would need to run all night for me to have the time to talk about all my theories." Blossom beamed happily and clasped her hands together in front of her chest, a pose that really showed Blossom's years as a cheerleader. "Okay so I'm pretty sure that Talita and her big brother were like a huge mess up, and that's the first time we've seen the Academy make such a big mistake. And then the stuff with Mrs. Hopper… I think something happened and the Academy is in decline. Maybe the leaders died, or a revolution happened, or a change in management, I don't know, but something happened! I am so sure of it!" "What makes you think that?" I had no doubt in my mind that Blossom already put together that Mrs. Hopper from Academy T and Angela from Academy K were the same person; I wasn't very subtle about it. Blossom's "Academy is in decline" theory wasn't so unrealistic when you thought about the way they handled Angela. They, like it wasn't me writing it. "They're just so in control with Ai and Bala, and even when Ai escapes it almost feels expected." It was almost surreal to hear someone so conventionally popular be so invested like this, but then again that was its own harmful little stereotype, wasn't it? "And it feels like after what they did to Mrs. Hopper in T," Blossom went on, "that they didn't know what to do with her. She's not a Candy so they just kinda stashed her in the Kindergarten, which seems like a nightmare. She can watch everyone else live pretty fun lives full of color, and she gets none of it. I'd rather have a fate like Bala than a fate like Mrs. Hopper. Give me the Cold Room; I'll be a good girl. But don't make it so people can't see me, holy crap." I was beaming. I had heard theories about the Academy Works stories ever since I started posting them online, but forum posts weren't quite the same as hearing someone babble about it in person. Then a thought occurred to me. "Wait, do you have an account on DD?" I wanted to know if she had left me any comments, but she looked sheepish at the question. "Welllll, I tried to make an account on there once and then the whole site crashed and everything broke and it was a huuuge mess. So I just read quietly and enjoy it! You had this one commenter that I just wanted to reach out and slap though; he was such an entitled jerk." I admit, I was a little crestfallen. I looked down at my fingers and kept picking at my nails. Maybe this was a prank after all? If she had a post from last year, at least then I could be sure. "You should make an account," I tried, though the prior excitement was definitely lacking. "You have a lot of good thoughts." "I wouldn't know what to say," Blossom admitted. "Anything," I shrugged. "Your favorite part? Favorite line? Just... thoughts on the story? One person just posts an emoji, so the bar isn't super high." Even an emoji felt nice sometimes. So much of what I got out of writing was hearing people talk about it. Academy I had so much attention, it inspired me to start Academy B right away. But T didn't get a whole lot. K was a joke. I sunk deeper into my seat. "Or we could hang out together and I can gush and babble about it to you in person. That's gotta be worth at least two emojis on a forum!" "I guess." Honestly, I was so wrapped up in Academy Works talk that I had kind of forgotten who Blossom was. Of course she didn't post online. Why would she? She was probably just reading along to get off. That started a whole other train of thought. Did she get off to my stories? Did Blossom Brixley find diapers erotic? She had to, right? Why else would she be on that forum? But I couldn't put those two thoughts together, like trying to shove a square into a circular hole. "You're totes not what I expected, by the way," Blossom said. "I mean I guess I didn't know what to expect out of the author of Academy Works; it's like finding out what Lemony Snicket looks like. 'Cause like in your head, he's always gonna be Patrick Warburton." There was a little of that casual popular girl callousness in how she worded that, but it didn't seem malicious. Just careless. "I would never have guessed by looking at you that you'd be sooo... perverted?" I would have taken more offense if she wasn't so right about it. I wasn't that sexual. Or sexy. I was five-foot-five, a half a foot shorter than Blossom. I was also kind of fat. Or chubby? My mom would call me "healthy", but the two were synonymous to her. I had glasses, wavy brown hair, and appeared generally unassuming. It was like looking at Anne Hathaway at the beginning of The Princess Diaries, if Anne Hathoway were fat and her hair weren't so frizzy. Unfortunately, taking off my glasses and straightening my hair didn't really make me look any better. Maybe I could pull off an early America Ferrera, if she were really, really white. "Yeah, well... I can't really say the same about you," I said sourly, picking roughly at my fingernails. "Though I guess stuff like this wasn't really what I had in mind..." "Just goes to show that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Mia Moore!" Here was the truth about Blossom: before she started high school, she was a mousey little teenager who didn't get a lot of attention. When that changed, she found that the kind of attention she got was often the amorous type. She was hot, and… well, she wasn't a member of the Purity Club, that much was for sure. There had been a period of time when people said she was named Blossom because she spread her legs like a flower spreading its petals. So she didn't take offense to Mia implying she was a bit of a pervert, because... well, she was. "I've only read about it," Blossom said, about as vaguely as possible, "but it's so hot." There were a lot of implications in that one sentence. Blossom didn't actually do any of this baby stuff. She was interested enough to go to a munch, but not hit up a Walgreens? But she found it hot. Not just hot. So hot. What was so sexy about acting like a baby? But I couldn't answer that question either, and we were in the same boat. So what was this to her? A fad? Was she more the caregiver type? A baby? None of them fit. Then again, she did tell me not to judge a book by its cover. "You said Academy B was the sexiest?" I asked, tilting my head. "Why is that?" This time, I wasn't looking for Academy Works lore; I wanted Blossom Brixley lore. "It's a perfect balance. The punishment of the cold room, the brainwashing with her dreams, and the almost-voluntary surrender before she even gets to leave that solitude. By the time she crawls through that tunnel, she's literally been reborn. She doesn't wanna be anyone else but who they made her. It's not identity death; it's a complete transformation, with the same parts of Bala that made her up before still being there, just... reprogrammed, and reassigned." That was the academic answer, pardon the pun, so Blossom also added: "And the idea of voluntarily losing control of like..." She looked around the train car and leaned in close to whisper a little. "To lose control and be completely dependent on diapers? Wow." Blossom fanned herself again as she leaned back. My cheeks were red just listening to her talk about it, and not just because I was flattered. Though I was flattered. So she really liked all that stuff? "Yeah, I... I guess that makes sense." In a lot of other diaper smut stories, it was about breaking someone down so they weren't really themselves anymore. Or it was someone willingly wanting it. In Bala's case, it was kind of both: she was broken down enough that she wanted it. "What about you?" Blossom asked out of the blue. "Who is your favorite?" "I, uh..." Was she fishing for something? Was she recording me? Did she actually want to know? I would just keep my answer vague enough to avoid a sound bite. "If you're trying to get spoilers out of me, I'm not giving them," I said plainly. "But... I guess my favorite character is Ai. Because she's... I dunno. Broken. Even if she wanted to give up, she can't. She can't let herself be happy." After a pause, after too much silence, I felt anxiety creep up my spine. I had said too much. "Aya is a close second right now," I added. She was the newest protagonist, the main character in Academy A. The stories were released in the following order: I, B, T, K, and A. The first four were finished, but I was still writing A. "Aya is interesting! Academy A has this sort of... Matilda meets Pippi Longstocking, with a big Enid Blyton vibe! Like Peter Pan if Peter Pan was set in a Victorian boarding school instead of on an island full of racist stereotypes and pixies." Blossom thought about something for a moment, before adding: "Do you think you're like Ai? Maybe you can't let yourself be happy? I don't wanna pry but like... you saw someone you knew at a munch for people of the same interest, and you ran away." "I... uh..." No one had ever asked me something like that before. She kind of sounded like what I imagined a therapist would sound like. And this was Blossom Brixley of all people! "I dunno. I guess my fight-or-flight response is always set to flight? And this stuff, this part of me... no one knows about it. So I saw you and..." I got scared. I didn't want to say it, but that was the truth. Even now, I was scared that this whole thing was a joke. "Well, I know about it now, Mia. But you know it about me too. If this were a story on that forum, you'd use that to blackmail me, and all sorts of hijinks would happen." Blossom made spirit fingers with her hands for emphasis and smiled contently before she crossed her arms about her ample chest. "True," I laughed. Mutual assured destruction, like the Cold War. Not as sexy as the Cold Room, but just as effective. Though nothing I had on her was damning enough with which to blackmail her. Likewise, everything she had on me was just hearsay. But the sad truth of the world is that hearsay is more powerful for the popular than it is for the invisible. "So," Blossom urged, raising an eyebrow, "what'll it be? Blackmail story? Or unlikely friends?" "Well, I do like breaking tropes," I smiled. "So I guess your secret is safe with me."

The Padded Playground — Issue II Hi guys! Since Subscribestar doesn't allow me to post images as captions, I decided to publish a monthly magazine featuring short stories, images, short articles, and more. It's downloadable. Issue One is already out, and Issue II will bring a small sequel to Rebecca's Second Babyhood, Carmen's story from daycare owner to a baby, and more! Check it out: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections/13702

Part 8 The paddy that was about to follow didn’t even start. Dad, in a moment of controlled anger, slapped his hand on the table with such force it made all the cutlery rattle and the plates jump. Taken aback, it also made me and mum flinch. “That’s enough Johnny,” he said forcefully, stopping any thought of continuing my demands. “No more of this childishness.” I could see he was deadly serious and I’d never seen him in such a state before so stunned I clammed shut. Unfortunately, my bladder did the opposite and seemingly alarmed, shot several spurts of pee I didn’t even know I had left into my padding. “There will be no more writing reviews, snuggling under fleecy onesies or acting like a toddler. You’re sixteen, and although you have a bladder problem, this is not the way we are going to treat it from this moment on. I want my teenage son back and wearing a nappy or not, I intend to have just that.” Mum and I were speechless. I’m not sure either of us had seen dad like that or heard him being so definite and in charge. Dad looked at mum as if he was putting all the blame on her but when he looked at me I just cast my eyes down and dare not look at him directly. However, with my nappy filling up I wasn’t sure just how much of a teenager I was but dad had snapped me out of my toddler tantrum and made me think. “I’ll speak with Avril tomorrow,” was mum’s attempt at placating dad, “and see what she has to say.” “I think we’ve had enough of that woman, look what she’s turned our son into.” He wasn’t going to let mum off easily either so she looked a bit shocked that blame was laid at her feet and got a little defensive. “I’ve only been doing what’s best for Johnny...” I’d never seen mum like this, she was usually the one in charge but this outburst from dad had really shaken her. “You think all this... stuff... is what he really needs?” I knew dad was angry because I’d never heard him speak to mum like this or seen her shrink away from confrontation before. “If he needs to wear a nappy, and I can see that it is necessary... like now...” he seemed to know that my nappy was soaked, “that’s fine but that’s about the limit.” In a less angry moment he held mum’s hand. “Look love, I’m blaming you and I shouldn’t be so hard but I feel you’ve encouraged this and to a certain extent enjoyed having your ‘little boy’ back but, I think even you realise that things have gone too far and I think it should stop, okay?” Mum nodded. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time but without such dramatics mum had more-or-less come to a similar conclusion but for different reasons and although wounded by dad’s accusation couldn’t disagree with him. Despite me, only minutes earlier demanding a dummy, I was also pulled up by this extreme situation as to whether there were different desires (perhaps hormones) reaching out and reacting to my body that I didn’t know about. What I did know, I was suddenly on the same page as dad – why the hell would a sixteen-year-old want to be immersed in all this childish stuff? That feeling lasted almost a minute before I began to panic. “Dad, dad, you’re not going to take everything away are you?” I could feel my heart pulsating and tears formed in the corner of my eyes. “Please dad, don’t take away my...” “No worry son, I’m not going to take anything away...” I sighed some relief. However that also didn’t last long when he added, “You’re going to pack up everything... apart from the nappies and plastic pants which you still need... and give them back to the pharmacist... okay?” I looked at him as if he’d just passed a jail sentence on me. “But dad...” “No buts Johnny, we need to see an end to all this and you need to be the one to say goodbye to what you’ve become...” Mum wasn’t going to get all the blame there was certainly plenty to spare for me. “There are some black bin bags in the kitchen and I want you to start packing all that stuff away right now and then it’s done.” “But dad, please, I mean... mum please don’t make me I can’t...” I wasn’t getting any support there either but thought it pretty cruel that dad was having me make the decisions on what had to go. I didn’t want any of it to go, which was incredible because only a few seconds before I thought dad was correct, I didn’t need all this baby stuff. My head didn’t know what my mind wanted – more toddler than teen. However, I could really have done with one of my FruitiZuckers, that would have put everything in perspective and calmed my building and confusing fear. I knew I couldn’t ask for their return but wondered where mum might have put them. I thought if I looked like I was doing as dad said then I could delay things so could begin my search in the kitchen drawers but all I found was those damned bin bags. # I’d never experienced hubby react in such a way and I was quite taken aback by his accusation. The truth was I’d already come to the same conclusion I just hadn’t quite got around to expressing it... although I was trying to. When he accused me of encouraging it I wanted to go into denial but hadn’t I just changed Terry’s wet nappy and sent him home in a fresh one. I’d also enjoyed watching the boys in their childish play so despite not wanting to be blamed I was quite culpable. # Of course mum knew exactly what I was up to. “If you’re searching for your dummy, forget it...” I pretended that wasn’t the case but she wasn’t fooled. “No, no just doing as dad said... erm... but...” “Sorry sweetheart but your father’s right. All this has gotten out of hand and we need to put a lid on it.” She came in for a hug, which I hoped meant she was relenting just a little. “I’m annoyed at myself for not noticing the changes sooner, or, more infuriatingly, just going along with it because, well, you seemed to be enjoying it all.” “Mum,” I said trying to get her on my side, “I am enjoying it. Despite waking up wet and needing a nappy all the time, I feel it’s something comforting and...” “That’s the problem love,” she brushed hair off my forehead, “despite everything that we hoped would lead to a cure nothing has changed and I’ve let you become reliant on all this stuff instead of trying to get to the main issue, which was for you to stop wetting your pants.” It was strange because as she spoke I could understand what was meant, I had become fixated on the various items of clothing and not paid any attention to the actual problem. I mean, I was wetting all the time and I’d become totally dependent on my protection to deal with it. There was a time when this was just a little problem but now it was a huge problem but because of all the stuff, I simply wasn’t bothered. “I’m sorry love,” she hugged me tightly, “but we have to address the issue and not just cover it up with pretty Dreamtime nappies.” There was part of me that knew she was right but another part that didn’t want things to change, which was ridiculous because who wants to stay a sixteen year-old pants wetter? Well, I did or so it seemed. “Mummm... erm...” but whatever I was going to say died on my lips and I fell into a surprisingly quick depression. I wanted to scream my opposition to what dad wanted but he seemed to have mum’s support and although I knew why they were doing what they planned, I desperately wanted to keep hold of all my cuddly stuff; stuff I thought important for my wellbeing. # Mum’s phone rang and I heard he say “Hello Holly” so knew it was Terry’s mum calling. “Erm, yes, erm... wait... let me just....” You could see from her reaction that what Holly was saying she didn’t want dad to know and excused herself to another room. Meanwhile, dad had that look that told me he expected I should have started packing stuff away by now. Guiltily I tried to shove one of my onesies into a plastic bin bag but it felt like I was getting rid of one of my best friends. “Look son,” he knew I was more than a little reluctant, “I know you’re not keen but...” he patted my sagging nappy. “Perhaps things might feel a little better if we get you out of this soggy padding and into something a bit drier.” I nodded so he helped me out of it and said I should go wash and clean myself up, which I did. Anxiety was flashing through my body and up into my head. One second I understood where dad and mum were coming from, the next I was full of resentment... it made no sense. I’d been released from my waterlogged padding and stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror trying to take in my reflection. I had no pubes, my body was pale (especially around that area) and I thought I looked more like a little kid than a self-centred and self-confident teenager. I shook myself, as if trying to alter the image staring back at me, but it was useless. Not only did I look like a little kid I felt like one as well. # “I don’t know if Terry’s told you but John has been suffering from anxiety incontinence for some time now...” Susan listened to the reply from her irate neighbour. “Oh, I thought he might have said...still...” but the barrage at the other end of the phone continued. “No, I just thought... he might have mentioned it in passing...” Holly Jackson was sticking up for her son telling her he wasn’t one to spread gossip. “Well, that’s being a very good friend... and that’s exactly what John was trying to be when Terry came round earlier.” Susan was thinking that she should have just sent him home without the change but then, that would have been a terrible thing to do to a lad wearing a soaked disposable... for whatever reason. Perhaps a better idea would have been to make him get dressed in the clothes he came in and that wouldn’t have caused any problems. She obviously hadn’t thought through the consequences of her actions merely thought to get him into something dry. It had never occurred to her that he simply would be seen wearing it by his parents. Alas, she had just thought he looked cute next to John and... well... you know what thought did? Thought wrong. Holly, a friend she’d known for a quite a number of years, seemed furious that her son arrived home wearing a nappy, which he told her Susan had put him in. What possible excuse could there be and what had she been playing at? The questions and accusations kept coming but as Susan didn’t have all the facts at her disposal and could only go by what John had told her, she tried to keep it as light-hearted as possible, despite the implications. “Yes, yes Holly, but you must understand that Terry and John are the very best of mates and when Terry said, “How does it feel” and then offered the chance to try them, like a good, erm, supportive friend, that’s just what he did”. The argument and interrogation continued as Holly tried to comprehend (or blame) something she didn’t really quite understand. As far as she was concerned it was of course completely against something her son would do. He was sixteen after all. Even to Susan’s ears, as she was trying to explain she doubted if Holly, who knew her son better than anyone, would except her explanation... whether it was true or not. Terry had never come over as that type of lad. This of course made Susan suspect even more that the dummy had some input into both the boy’s behaviour but hoped not to have to mention that at this stage. “I’m sorry Holly if I’ve caused a problem, I didn’t mean to and of course John here was so happy that for a little while at least he had someone with him who seemed to understand and empathise with his, well, rather embarrassing situation.” Susan hoped this tack might be a little bit more successful but made her even more determined to get to the bottom of why two teenage boys should have been acting like a couple of toddlers to the point they had wet themselves. Meanwhile, Holly needed to know why her son had wet himself in the first place... and that was going to be a more difficult thing to rationalise. # Bruce was at the bathroom door and whining to come in. Since he’d been forbidden to sleep in my room at night he’d become nervous of entering anywhere without permission. However, as he’d seen me in all the various stages of undress since he was a puppy and I was ten it hardly seemed fair keeping him out now. “C’mon,” I patted the side of my thigh and Bruce seemed overjoyed to wander over wagging his tail for a quick stroke and being made a fuss of. “Yes boy... who’s a good boy...” and I appreciated his return affection by snuggling up against my crotch and licking my thigh. After a few minutes of petting (I’m not sure who was getting the most out of it) I decided to get dressed so wandered back to my room. Surprisingly, dad was still there and inspecting all the stuff that had spread about the room. “Well lad,” he said lifting a pile of thick disposables, “I know you’re still going to need these but hopefully, when the doctor lets us know the results of your tests, we’ll have a better idea of how we need to progress.” He sighed, “However, until then I suppose you should keep all this stuff handy,” he spread his hand to take in the nappies, plastic pants and various powders and ointments, “but try and lose some of these other items... I really think they are giving off the wrong message.” Dad wasn’t angry. In fact, if anything, I think he’d calmed down a bit but again I could see what he was getting at though nothing seemed as urgent as it had only a few minutes ago. I suppose he’d had a moment to reflect and as he’d just let me out of a very soggy nappy knew that despite everything else, I still needed my padded protection and the thicker the better. “Can you just make sure that you wear some clothes over your nappies... let’s get you back to a touch of normality... can you do that?” “Yes dad, no problem,” I said as my sixteen year old self. He paused at the door as if in thought. I wasn’t sure whether he was thinking about offering to put me in my nappy, which in truth I would have loved because I like the idea of being looked after, but in the end he sort of shrugged and left me to it. I toddled over to the pile of thick fleecy nappies and thought about pinning myself into one of them and pulling up some of the less flamboyant plastic pants but in the end decided on a lovely colourful disposable and my special sturdy pair of blue rubber pants to hold it in place. Then I pulled on a pair of jeans, which I’m not sure when I last wore and hoped dad would be satisfied. However, I didn’t like the way it all felt, the jeans were too restrictive so I swapped them out for a pair of rather old but looser robust elasticated grey school shorts that would easily fit over everything and a navy blue polo shirt. # I sat on my bed and absentmindedly stroked Bruce’s head and scratched his ears, which he seemed to like. I was sorting out in my head what things I could pack away and the items I definitely wanted to keep. As it was, and despite trying to be a good teenager, I wanted to keep the lot as everything had given me pleasure at some point. The thing is, I was thinking as a sixteen year old yet still wanted to keep my childish fluffy Dreamtime onesies, footed sleepers, even teddy, which had given me some lovely night-time cuddles and hated the thought of losing any of it. I knew this was madness. However, I also knew I had to make a start and reluctantly shoved a couple of the older items in the black plastic bag and hoped I wouldn’t miss them as much. Once I started I was quite amazed at the amount of products I seemed to have accumulated in such a relative short space of time and began to find things I’d forgotten about. Unfortunately, that set me off thinking about wearing or at least trying them on again and that made me annoyed that I was having to lose so much stuff, which of course in turn made me want to keep everything all over again. I knew it was going to be hard but making any kind of choice was becoming ridiculous in my teenage/toddler brain. # That was it! My mind had become confused as to who exactly I was. I reached for a dummy but of course that had been taken away by mum and it was then that I realised that I’d come to enjoy sucking on that particular item far too much. Maybe mum was on to something. Suddenly that jumble of emotions and irrationality, the feeling of being part of something when in fact I wasn’t influencing anything but being influenced - it was quite the disappointing eye-opener and I felt used by the Dreamtime company. I wondered how long this moment of clarity would last... that was until I looked in the mirror and could make out the huge nappy and plastic pants under my shorts, which without doubt made me look the little kid I felt I’d become. I had to think pretty hard not to like what I saw. I’m sixteen, I shouldn’t be... oh god... I’m just caught up in some creepy ball of confusion. There are things I actually liked, and like, about behaving, and dressing as a little kid. For one, I had loved innocently playing with Terry and him wearing the same as me. It just seemed right and I’d never seen him so happy. We’d spent quite some time just having fun with toys and letting our imaginations take over. It was incredible. It was... well... it was a feeling, for me at least, of a different life that I missed and was so enjoyable. The fact that we were both in nappies, and it didn’t matter, made it so we didn’t have to explain anything, it just happened. Me and Terry have been friends since little kids but I don’t think we have ever played like we did in those few hours... well, since we were little. The thing is, I know I shouldn’t but these thoughts are just going round and round in my head. I wasn’t sure what I could do to break this sequence of self-induced mind-games – was I a teenager or a little kid? Another thought was, did I prefer being a little kid. I mean, I seemed to have fun but did that mean I couldn’t have fun as a teenager, or was I just overthinking the entire situation? I sat on my bed when Bruce came over and nuzzled my hand wanting more affection. Was that how I’d become? I asked myself once more, is all this stuff me wanting attention and through the nappies and these various items was getting it? Had I become more interested (and needy) in all the things Avril and Dreamtime had been supplying and that everything else had become less important? Did I need all these soft and comfy things or had I just been indulging myself at the expense of actually finding a cure for my incontinence? I looked at Bruce and gave him a lovely long stroke on his belly and his hind leg started reacting to his enjoyment. I realised, in some way at least, this had become my reaction when I got something new to try out. # Over the next couple of days, not much seemed to change, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting beneath the surface. Avril was unreachable - her replacement at the pharmacy couldn’t say if she was ill or away, only that she hadn’t mentioned any plans. That uncertainty left a strange knot in my stomach and another unanswered set of questions for mum. Then, whenever I called, Terry’s mum always had a new excuse for why he couldn’t come to the phone. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was hiding something, or if Terry himself was avoiding me on purpose. Was something going on that I didn’t know about? Was not having my dummy to suck causing some kind of paranoia? Then I remembered that he was also sucking on a dummy when he arrived at our place. Hmmm. At home, Dad’s behaviour was puzzling too. I’d filled a couple of bin bags with things he’d asked for, but now he seemed in no hurry to get rid of them. Had he already decided what to do with my things behind my back, or was he just waiting for something? The odd silence between us made the atmosphere feel heavier. All the while, I found myself slipping into a strange in-between place. I’d stopped wearing the fleecy pyjamas and onesies as Dad had asked, sticking to just a nappy and plastic pants at night. Oddly, wearing only those should have made me feel younger, but instead I felt oddly grown-up, like I was finally accepting things as they were. Maybe it was relief, or maybe resignation—either way, it left me feeling both exposed and strangely mature, as if I’d crossed some invisible line in my own mind. No dummy, but I was surviving without it. However, each morning my nappy was still soaked. I still needed as much protection as ever. With all these questions swirling around - Avril’s absence, Terry’s evasiveness, Dad’s sudden change of heart—the days started to blur together. I was restless, waiting for something to break the tension. And then, just as the uncertainty was beginning to feel unbearable, we got the call from the doctor’s office asking Mum or Dad to come in as soon as possible. That was when I realised I’d only been skimming the surface of what was really going on around me. # “Does your son take drugs?” The doctor’s words were damning. The accusation took Susan by surprise but she’d known that the reason the doctor needed to talk was because of some result of John’s blood test. “No of course not... why do you ask?” Susan asked cautiously. “Well, because we found traces of methamphetamine in the tests we’ve just run.” He offered the screen on his desk for her to see the results for herself and pointed out the bright colourful spikes on the graph. “Although, it isn’t a drug we know too well... it might be something new that’s going around school... or something... these protein levels are a little high as well but they might be down to diet or something. I don’t see a need to worry about them at the moment.” the doctor saw the look of disappointment on Susan Benedict’s face and wished he’d approached this news a little differently. “My son does not take drugs,” although suspicious she wasn’t certain she should confide in the doctor. However, she quickly decided she couldn’t keep her misgivings to herself and produced one of John’s much loved dummies and explained her worries about it. “Why does your teenage son use a child’s pacifier?” Dr Answah cautiously held it at arms-length. “Mmmm, well...” Susan started guardedly but decided he needed details. She then went into the explanation of the deal she and the pharmacist had struck about the supplies they’d organised for John’s wetting problem and how things had developed over the last couple of months from there. She told him of her current suspicions about the relatively new inclusion of dummies and said that although her son was sixteen, at times he acted childishly, which she was at pains to point out, was not like him normally and was also a relatively recent development. In fact, as far as she knew, only since he’d started using a dummy, which John said he found most soothing. “Hmmmm,” Doctor Answah listened closely and advised that she should collect all the dummies, give them to the police and tell them what she’d just told him. As far as he could see, something was definitely fishy and therefore should have no further involvement with the pharmacist until tests had been carried out. So, the blood tests had shown some kind of drugs in John’s system but no other cause of his urinary cascade and the need for the continued use of nappies. The results showed no symptoms of infection or blockage, so that was at least something. Meanwhile, the young doctor discussed the results and listened to Susan explain her son’s problem in more depth. He suggested that a psychiatrist might be needed to get to the bottom of John’s problem and offered a contact number if there was no improvement. Susan was a little shell-shocked with the news of drugs in her son’s system, however, it did unfortunately explain the change in his behaviour. At the same time she wondered if Avril’s absence from work was somehow connected. She didn’t really want to go to the police before she’d spoken with her but that ship may well have sailed. Susan’s feelings were a tangled web of guilt, nostalgia, and bafflement. For weeks, she had watched John regress into a state of childhood innocence that seemed to soothe something inside him—and, if she was honest with herself, brought a bittersweet comfort to her as well. The responsibilities and tribulations of raising a teenager had been quietly replaced by routines she’d thought long gone; wearing nappies and colourful covers, tucking him in and offering comfort as she once had when he was a toddler. It was as if time had momentarily reversed, allowing her to protect him again from a world that had grown increasingly complicated, hostile... and wet. It had all started out innocently enough, finding a way to stop a morning of wet pyjamas and bedding. She’d loved the suggestion of thick nappies and was keen to see her son back in them because it would be an instant cure. Not of him wetting but just how much and what was soaked each day. But Susan’s sense of pleasure was shadowed by guilt. She worried that her willingness to allow, even encourage, this regressive behaviour might have blinded her to the warning signs that something deeper was wrong. Perhaps, in her longing to preserve those fleeting moments of closeness, she had missed, or chosen to ignore, the subtle signals of trouble. Now, confronted with the reality of drugs in John’s system, her innocence felt complicit, and the simple joy she’d experienced was tainted with the realisation that her actions might have enabled something harmful. In essence, Susan was caught between the sweetness of nostalgia and the sharp sting of responsibility. Avril may well have given her son drugs to ease him into a regressive state but she was only now realising her own complicity in the project. Her emotions were a mixture of love, regret, and a desperate desire to make things right, even as she grappled with the dawning understanding of how complex, and dangerous, the situation had become. # “Sweetheart, we need to talk.” I knew it must be serious and wondered what the tests had shown... was I at death’s door or worse? “Mum, is everything alright?” I asked uneasily. “Erm, well, yes and no...” she looked like she was searching for the correct words. “The doctor found something strange in the blood test he carried out and I need you to understand that... well... erm... it’s nothing to blame yourself for.” That uneasy tingle swept right through my body and, not for the first time, I was glad I was wearing a nappy as my bladder released in nervous expectation. “You’ve been drugged!” She blurted out, which was unlike her as normally she’s so composed. “I think those dummies you’ve been given by Avril...” “The FruitiZuckers?” I enquired unnecessarily. “Yes, erm, have been laced with some kind of drug and, I’m sorry to say, seems to have made you...well... regress... mentally.” I wasn’t sure what she meant. I didn’t feel like I’d been regressed, I was just enjoying having fun. I mean, I hadn’t had a dummy for a couple of days now yet I still wet at night and was still wearing (thankfully) my nappy. I pointed this fact out. “Then there’s Terry, a friend who I’d never put down as a nappy-wearer and now appears not to want to see you... and I think that’s because he’s embarrassed by the entire recent episode of you two, sucking on dummies, wearing nappies, plastic pants and playing with your kiddie toys. His mum thinks it’s me that made him wear a nappy.” “But you changed him...” “Yes, well, that was my mistake...” mum seemed resigned at her involvement in the whole affair. “He asked for it and I let my judgement slip... I should have known better or at least been aware that something was wrong.” “So mum, are you saying that both of us have been drugged and as a result, all that we’ve been doing is because of that?” “I think so pet.” She looked at me with huge sad eyes (like Bruce’s when he thinks he’s in our bad books for some reason). “The doctor wasn’t sure... but as that is the only link I could see... but I’m taking them to the police to see what they think.” “THE POLICE?” my voice seemed to go up an octave in surprise, “Hell mum, do you think it’s that bad?” “I think so love and Avril is going to have a lot of questions to answer when she gets back.” # Things had taken a completely different turn and I wasn’t sure how to react. It was all so unbelievable and bizarre and just didn’t seem to be for the benefit of anyone but, well, me. I mean, despite my initial scepticism, I had grasped the entire concept of reviews for products and thoroughly enjoyed doing my bit. Okay, really enjoyed doing my bit and I’d loved throwing myself with gusto into using the Dreamtime merchandise. The idea that what all this had led to was soon to be a police matter was quite disconcerting. My nappy was awash with the amount of unexpected pee that had filled the damn thing... who knew where it was all coming from? I desperately needed a fresh one and suspected, also, a couple of extra stuffers. In spite of my needs, mum’s trip to the police station didn’t go too well and she was left trying to explain her part in all of this. She was interviewed for over an hour with suspicion falling on her rather than the pharmacist. Eventually, she found a senior police woman who took her concern seriously and so a case was open. Mum said all she received was an eleven digit number to use for reference and referral as things progressed or didn’t, whichever the case was. She was glad to get home but was annoyed about how things had developed. Anyway, it was in the hands of the law now so she could step back. However, the police wanted all the stuff I’d been given by Dreamtime to be packed up and sent as evidence. Dad must have had a premonition that was going to happen as the already filled bags were dropped off and we only kept the nappies, plastic pants, baby powder and such necessities... we said they were things we’d bought ourselves. Not all of that was true but I liked the thick nappies and most of the disposables and I did need them. # It felt weird that something that had seemed so innocent had suddenly become a ‘police matter’ and that got me thinking that maybe it had all been a bit of a con, although I wasn’t sure how or why. There was also the fact that now I felt like I’d been a guinea pig in some strange, and so far, unexplained experiment and what was worse, had everything I’d been doing contributed to my continued wetting? There was another question that I tried to avoid – Why had I been so keen to be involved and why did I just love all the products I’d been sent to review? Had my glowing and usually positive reviews made them experiment more with someone who was so easily persuaded? Had I in fact been drugged throughout all of this? # tbc #

I am starting the week with "Messy Monday Morning" in a wet and poopie AWW SO CUTE diaper. I am sitting here sipping hot coffee while I feel the warm squishy potty in my diapie so nicely nestled against my perineum, not too soft, not too firm, so I guess I have a "Goldilocks" poopies in my diaper...just right. I have no plans to change right away, and will even get my morning exercise while wet and messy. I just went pee pees a little more with a pee pee shiver sitting here. A simple and innocent pleasure of life.

The line is being blurred between Pride events and Kink events. They are two separate groups that have some crossover. Walking around in an exposed diaper is going to far, as ABDL is not part of Pride celebrations.

Smallish Update (More 2 come) Chapter One Hundred & Eighteen: Part Two “Any-buddy dere?” The words left Paul’s mouth and seemed to float inside the nursery. Small. Sleep-soft. Bent around the pacifier still resting between his lips. He waited. Upright on his knees now, both bandaged hands curled around the top rail of the bed, body leaning forward as though listening required all of him. His Safari pajamas had twisted slightly during sleep, one knee bunched beneath him while the blanket lay abandoned near his feet. Batman rested face down near the pillow. Long Knight had fallen sideways beside him, one bright yellow leg trapped beneath the edge of the blanket. For one suspended moment— Nothing answered. The room remained pale with early morning. Not fully light. Not fully dark. Then the monitor speaker crackled. Two voices reached him almost together. “We’re coming, baby.” “We’ll be right there.” Daddy. Mommy. Paul smiled. At least on the outside. His shoulders softened. His grip loosened against the rail. The pacifier bobbed once between his lips as a pleased little hum slipped around it. They had heard him. He wasn’t alone. That should have made everything inside him settle. Some of it did. But beneath the smile, his thoughts moved strangely. Slow.Thick. As if even the little part of him had woken beneath deep water and was trying to swim through syrup toward the surface. Nothing fit together properly. The room was familiar. The rail beneath his palms was familiar. But yesterday— Yesterday existed only in pieces. Not memories exactly. Flashes. A white envelope. Words moving across paper that his mind refused to hold still long enough to read. Something crimson and gold. A velvet shape. Two letters pressed together. B. G. Important. He knew they were important. The velvet had looked soft. He remembered wanting to touch it. Or maybe he had touched it. Then— Pointy ouchies. A bright sound. Daddy’s voice. Mommy crying without wanting him to know she was crying. His hands hurting. Paul looked down. The bandages wrapped around both palms were rumpled now, the edges no longer clean and perfect after a night of sleep. He turned one hand slowly, studying the white gauze as if it belonged to someone else. How had the ouchies gotten there? He couldn’t remember. Not enough. Thinking about it made something tighten behind his ribs. Not the outside pain. That hurt too. A dull, bruised pulling under his left side when he leaned too far. But deeper than that— Something else. A hurt without a place. A hurt that did not live in his hands or ribs or stomach. It lived somewhere words could not reach. Paul’s brow pinched. He did not like that feeling. So his mind moved away from it. Away from the paper. Away from the velvet letters. Away from the sharp sound. Toward Daddy. Daddy’s arms around him. Strong. Warm. Holding him tightly while the whole world shook. Rocking him forward and then back. Paul liked Daddy’s arms. Daddy’s arms meant the floor stopped moving. Daddy’s voice meant nothing could get close enough to hurt him without going through Daddy first. Then Mommy. Paul’s smile returned faintly. Mommy’s hair brushing against his stomach while she changed his diapee. It had tickled. He remembered squealing. Her voice had been sweet and round, telling him everything was going to be all right, even though he hadn’t understood what was wrong. That was the part his little mind trusted most. He didn’t need to understand why he was sad if Mommy knew how to make the sadness go bye-bye. Mommy and Daddy were coming. Good. That was good. He rocked once against the rail. Then his mind found something even safer. Cake. The thought arrived suddenly. Bright. Sweet. Simple. Cake with thick white frosting. The piece Daddy gave him. No— The piece he had taken from Martina’s plate. Nana’s plate. His fingers had scooped through the soft icing before anyone could stop him. Everyone laughed. Nana called him a cake thief. Daddy moved him, and Paul had hated that for one whole second— Until Daddy gave him another piece. Cake. His mouth moved around the pacifier. “Cay…” The word came out softly. He blinked. Cake felt important now. More important than letters. More important than bandages. More important than the deep hurt he could not name. More important than big boy feelings. “Cay…” His voice grew. The thought became need. “Cake…” Paul leaned harder against the rail, excitement mixing with the uncomfortable pressure building low in his body. He did not recognize that signal clearly. His body did. His mind was still swimming too far beneath the surface to translate it. The pressure had been there when he woke. Full. Heavy. Insistent. But cake was easier. Cake was sweet. Cake made people laugh. He rocked again, knees tucked beneath him, body moving automatically in search of relief. “Cake…” His face tightened. The pressure increased. He pushed the unwanted feeling away the same way he pushed away the broken flashes of yesterday. No letter. No glass. No sad. Cake. He shifted backward slightly on his knees. His body took over. One hard strain. Then another. Paul gripped the rail, pacifier bouncing with his breath. “CAKE!” The third shout rang through the room just as his body finally released the discomfort it had been carrying. Paul pushed his bottom back slightly. The thick, heavily padded diaper shifted with him. He didn’t think about what he was doing. The bad thoughts were still trying to rise, and his body answered the only way it knew how right now—by letting go. A few large, instinctive pushes. Warmth bloomed instantly in the front, spreading wet and heavy through the boosted padding. At the same time the back grew fuller, heavier, the mess pressing warmly against him as his body finished what it had started without asking permission. The spreading heat radiated outward, front and back, the thick diaper sagging noticeably under the sudden weight and warmth. The plastic pants held everything close, the crinkle turning softer, more muffled as the padding absorbed it all. The sensation made Paul stop. His eyes widened. Not frightened. Confused. He looked down as though the answer might be visible through the fabric. Another faint warmth followed, and his expression changed into one of vague surprise. The nursery door opened.Bryan & Lilly stood in the doorway. Paul's hair flattened on one side. Pacifier in his mouth. Bandaged hands gripping the top bar. His Safari pajamas rumpled from sleep. His face innocent and puzzled as he looked between them, apparently unaware that his body had just completed its own urgent morning routine. “Cay…?” he asked around the pacifier, voice small and hopeful, as if maybe, just maybe, one of them had brought cake. The smell reached them a second later—warm, unmistakable, the heavy scent of a very full diaper mixed with the lingering sweetness of baby powder and lavender lotion from his last change. For one heartbeat neither of them moved. Then Bryan’s face softened with a complicated mix of love and sorrow so deep it looked like pain. Lilly’s eyes filled instantly, but she didn’t look away. She never looked away from him. Not when he was like this. Not when the regression swallowed him whole and left this small, trusting version of their son behind. Paul turned his head at the sound of the door, still on his knees, the heavy diaper sagging between his legs. His eyes found them—blurry at first, then lighting up with that same slow, syrupy joy. “Cake,” he announced again, softer now. Lilly moved first. Not rushing. Just entering with a smile soft enough not to turn the moment into alarm. “Well, good morning, Mister Cake Man.” Paul’s face brightened. “Mommy.” The word came thick around the pacifier. Lilly’s heart answered before her mind could .Lilly dropped to her knees in front of him without hesitation. Her hands were gentle as they cupped his face, thumbs brushing the corners of his mouth around the pacifier. “Good morning, sweetheart.” Bryan stepped inside after her, closing the door partway behind him. His sports jacket and tie made him look strangely formal against the nursery’s soft colors. Bryan moved in beside her, one big hand settling carefully on Paul’s back, feeling the warmth and weight of the full diaper through the fabric. He didn’t flinch. He simply rubbed slow, soothing circles between Paul’s shoulder blades. “Morning, buddy.” Paul leaned toward him. “Cake.” Bryan nodded solemnly. “I heard the request.” Paul smiled. Then shifted his weight. The discomfort registered more clearly this time. His brows pinched. His body stilled. He made a small uncertain sound and looked down again. Lilly and Bryan exchanged a glance. Quick. Experienced. No embarrassment. No dramatic reaction. Only information passing between parents. He needs a change first. Lilly gently removed the pacifier so Paul could breathe and speak more easily. “Before cake,” she said softly, “I think we need to get Mister Cake Man into a clean and dry diapee.” Paul frowned. “No.” The word came immediate. Small. Certain. Bryan almost smiled despite himself. There. Resistance. A preference. Not five more minutes. But close enough to ordinary annoyance that it hurt beautifully. “I know,” Bryan said, lowering his voice into the warm toddler cadence Paul seemed able to follow. “Not the morning plan you wanted.” Paul considered this. Not happily. But he understood more than the softness of his voice suggested. Bryan saw it in his eyes—the brief pause, the negotiation happening somewhere beneath the fog. Paul looked at Lilly. Then Bryan. “Cake after?” Bryan’s throat tightened. A complete thought. Simple. But complete. “After,” he promised. Lilly touched his cheek. Paul narrowed his eyes. That was not the same promise. Bryan recognized the objection instantly. “Tiny cake after breakfast,” he amended. Paul nodded. Satisfied. Then released the rail with one hand and reached upward toward Bryan. Pick me up. Bryan slid his arms around him carefully, supporting his back and protecting the injured rib. Paul folded against him immediately, cheek settling near the knot of Bryan’s tie. The trust was instant. Total. Bryan closed his eyes for half a second as Paul’s arms circled his neck. Too late, part of him thought again. Too late to have enough mornings before this. Too late to ask every adult question while the answers were easy. But Paul’s weight against him answered with something else. Here & now. Bryan opened his eyes. Here & now would have to defeat too late. Lilly pulled back the blanket and prepared the room for the first transition of the day, movements practiced but respectful. She caught Bryan’s gaze over Paul’s shoulder. There was a sleepy young man in his father’s arms, asking for cake with a toddler’s lisp, confused by yesterday and protected from its sharpest edges for one more morning. Lilly touched Paul’s back. “Let’s get you all nice and clean my sweet boy.” Paul lifted his head from Bryan’s shoulder. “Then cake?” Bryan kissed his temple. Paul accepted that. Barely. But enough. And as Bryan carried him toward the changing area, Lilly followed close behind, both of them understanding that the next wave had not arrived as a disaster. It had arrived hungry. Confused. Little but bigger than yesterday. And still reaching for them. The moment Paul’s back touched the padded surface, another soft squish escaped. Paul made a tiny, unhappy sound and reached instinctively for his pacifier clip, giving it a small tug as if to comfort himself. Lilly was already moving to the head of the table, her hands gentle as they stroked Paul’s hair. “Shhh, shhh, Mommy’s right here, sweet pea,” she cooed, voice dropping into that soft, melodic baby-talk rhythm that always seemed to anchor him. “We’re gonna get my wittle boy all clean and comfy, yes we are. Such a good boy.” Bryan stepped back just long enough to shrug out of his suit jacket. He draped it carefully over the arm of the rocking chair near the window, he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, the motion quiet and deliberate, then returned to Lilly’s side. Lilly’s fingers were already at the hem Paul’s safari-themed pajama top. She worked the top carefully over his chest and then slid the arms out before rolling it up & over Paul’s neck & head, speaking the whole time in that gentle, sing-song voice. “We have to get these stinky pants washed and ready for our big Christmas trip into the snow mountains, oh yes we do,” she murmured, easing the top off Paul’s arms. “My handsome boy is going to look so cozy in the mountains with Mommy and Daddy isn’t he? Yes he is.” Paul made a small sound around the pacifier, somewhere between agreement and distraction. His bandaged hands flexed restlessly against the changing table pad. Lilly set the top aside and moved to the pajama bottoms, sliding them down carefully over the bulky diaper and plastic pants. The moment his tummy was bare, she leaned in and gently tickled her fingertips across his chest and stomach, light and playful. Paul’s reaction was immediate. A bright, surprised laugh burst out around the pacifier—high and genuine, the kind of sound that still managed to crack something open in both his parents’ chests every single time. His legs kicked weakly, the heavy diaper shifting with the movement, and for a few seconds the fog seemed to lift just enough for pure, uncomplicated joy to shine through. Lilly smiled down at him, eyes soft with love even as her heart ached at how small he looked right now. “There’s my happy boy,” she cooed. “Tickle, tickle, tickle for Mommy’s wittle love bug.” Bryan watched them, his expression a complicated blend of tenderness and quiet sorrow. He reached for the wipes warmer on the shelf beside the table, only to find it already empty from the last change. His jaw tightened for half a second before he forced it to relax. They were going to need a lot of wipes for this one. Lilly glanced at him, reading the look instantly. “I can do the dirty work this time,” she said softly, keeping her voice light for Paul’s sake. “Given your nice clothes, honey.” Paul turned his head on the table, looking up at his father with a small, furrowed brow. Even through the regression, something in him still recognized Bryan’s dressed-up state and seemed to puzzle over it. Lilly caught the look and smiled, her voice warm and teasing as she continued in baby talk. “Daddy is such a handsome man in his clothes, isn’t he, baby? Yes he is. So handsome.” Paul’s furrowed brow smoothed. He gave a small, solemn nod around the pacifier and mumbled, the words thick and lisped, “Pwetty Daddy…” Bryan’s eyes went shiny for a moment. He reached down and brushed his knuckles gently across Paul’s cheek. “Thank you, buddy,” he said quietly. Lilly carefully peeled the plastic pants down and off, setting them aside. The moment she opened the tabs of the heavy diaper, both she and Bryan’s expressions shifted in the same instant. Lilly’s face remained soft, her smile never wavering even as her eyes took on that focused, gentle steadiness that said she was handling this with every ounce of love she had. There was no disgust, only quiet acceptance and the deep, aching tenderness of a mother meeting her child exactly where he was. Bryan’s expression was similar but edged with something heavier—love so fierce it looked like pain, the quiet grief of watching his son need this level of care again, mixed with the unwavering determination to be exactly what Paul needed right now. Neither of them said a word about the state of the diaper. They simply moved. Lilly kept up a steady stream of soft baby talk the entire time, her voice a soothing anchor. “Such a good boy for Mommy… we’re gonna get you all clean and fresh, yes we are… Mommy’s wittle prince is doing so well… look at those big eyes watching Mommy so nicely…” Bryan reached for a fresh Safari-themed diaper from the stack and fluffed it open with practiced hands, slipping one additional booster pad inside for extra protection. He set it ready while Lilly applied a generous layer of lotion and then a thick coating of diaper rash cream, her fingers gentle as she worked it over Paul’s skin. Bryan gently took hold of Paul’s ankles, lifting them with care so Lilly could slide the clean, boosted diaper underneath. Lilly finished powdering with a soft cloud of baby powder, the familiar scent filling the space between them. Bryan brought the front of the diaper up and began taping it securely while Lilly continued her gentle cooing, one hand resting on Paul’s chest to keep him calm and focused on her face. When the clean diaper was fastened, Lilly slipped away for a moment and returned from the closet with the clothes she had chosen. First came a simple long-sleeve black cotton shirt—soft, plain, and comfortable against his skin. She guided Paul’s arms through the sleeves and smoothed it down over his torso. Next came the Jungle Animals Blue Gingham Zipper Sleeveless Hoodie. It was a crisp white sleeveless zip-up vest with a hood lined in cheerful blue gingham check. Bright orange trim ran along the hood edge and the bottom hem, and the same colorful jungle animal pattern from his other pieces—lions, giraffes, elephants, crocodiles, flamingos, zebras, and toucans—danced across the fabric. Two handy front pockets sat at hip level, and the BigTots logo was discreetly placed near the hem. Lilly zipped it up carefully over the black shirt, the gingham lining peeking out softly around Paul’s neck and the hood resting against the back of his head. Last came the matching Jungle Animals Footed Pocket Pants. These were soft white pants covered in the same cheerful safari animal print as the vest/hoodie, with bright orange accents at the cuffs and waistband. The fabric had a gentle stretch, and the side pockets were lined with the same blue gingham as the hoodie. Most importantly, they had built-in footed sections that slipped over Paul’s feet like cozy little booties, keeping him warm while still allowing easy movement. Lilly guided his legs into them one at a time, pulling the soft material up over the thick, clean diaper. The pants settled comfortably, the footed ends giving him that extra layer of softness and security. When they were finished, both Lilly and Bryan stepped back for a moment to look at him. Paul lay there in the new outfit, the black long-sleeve shirt peeking from beneath the zip hoodie, the footed pants making him look even smaller and cozier against the changing table pad. The thick diaper was completely hidden but still gave him that unmistakable padded silhouette beneath the soft fabric. Lilly leaned down first, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. “There’s Mommy’s handsome boy,” she whispered. “Look at you, all clean and cozy and so, so pretty for Mommy.” Bryan followed, bending to kiss Paul’s other cheek with equal gentleness. “Daddy’s handsome guy,” he said softly, voice thick with everything he felt Bryan lowered the side of the changing table carefully. The soft mechanical click seemed louder in the nursery than it should have, a small sound marking the end of one transition and the uncertain beginning of another. Paul sat near the edge now, newly dressed, his hair still sleep-tousled and his bandaged hands resting against his thighs. Bryan reached toward him automatically. One arm prepared to slide behind Paul’s back. The other ready beneath his knees. The same careful lift they had repeated so many times over the past day that Bryan’s body had already memorized the sequence. But Paul shifted away. Just slightly. Bryan stopped. Paul looked toward the floor. Then back at him. “Down.” The word came muffled around the pacifier. Small. But definite. Bryan’s eyebrows lifted. Lilly paused near the foot of the table, one hand still holding the folded blanket she had meant to put away. “What was that, sweetheart?” Paul pulled the pacifier out just far enough to speak more clearly. “Want down.” Bryan and Lilly looked at each other. Surprised. The good kind of surprised—the kind neither of them trusted anymore because every hopeful moment still felt capable of disappearing if acknowledged too loudly. Bryan kept his voice even. “You want to stand?” Paul nodded. Confident enough to matter. Bryan stepped back half a pace. He didn’t offer his hand. Not yet. That was the hardest part. Every instinct in him wanted to catch the moment before it could become dangerous. To prevent the stumble. Prevent the pain. Prevent the possibility that Paul’s body would fail and turn confidence back into fear. But Mindy’s words came back. Recognition. Choice. Tolerance. Let him attempt before you rescue. Bryan lowered the side completely and watched. Lilly watched too. Neither breathed normally. Paul turned his body slowly, movements stiff with concentration. He placed one bandaged hand against the padded surface for balance and carefully swung his right leg over the edge. Then the left. His feet hovered several inches above the floor. For a second, he sat there. Looking down. Calculating. Somewhere beneath the little voice and the pacifier and the softened expression, another part of Paul seemed to understand what standing required. Maybe muscle memory. Maybe “Big” Paul surfacing just enough to send instructions through the fog. Maybe the body remembering what the mind couldn’t fully organize. Paul pushed his palms against the changing table and slid forward. His feet touched the floor. His knees bent. His whole body wobbled once. Bryan’s hands lifted instinctively. Then stopped in the air. Paul steadied himself. Paul looked toward the nursery door. Then took one step. Slow. His right foot landed first, heel uncertain, toes adjusting against the floor. A second step followed. Then a third. His arms hovered slightly away from his sides for balance, bandaged hands open, expression serious around the pacifier. Bryan stayed directly behind him. Lilly moved parallel to them on the other side, her body tense with readiness. Paul took a fourth step. His posture lifted a fraction. A small spark of pride came across his face. Then the fifth. His left knee trembled. His hips shifted too far backward. For one suspended second, the whole room seemed to tilt with him. Bryan lunged forward— But Paul had already dropped. Not hard. Not dangerously. His legs folded beneath him and he landed backward with a soft, cushioned thump. Paul sat motionless on the floor. Eyes wide. Both parents waited for the cry. The panic. The betrayal of pain. Instead— Paul laughed. It began as a soft breath around the pacifier. Then a tiny, surprised giggle. As though falling had been something funny his body had done without consulting him. Bryan stared. Then relief broke across his face so quickly it almost looked younger than him. “Well,” he said, crouching down. “That was one way to finish.” Paul looked up at him, still smiling. Just a small recognition that he had tried something and the world had not ended when it went imperfectly. That mattered. More than the steps. Bryan held out his hand. This time, Paul accepted immediately. His bandaged fingers wrapped around Bryan’s, grip trusting and eager. Lilly stepped closer and offered her hand on the other side. Paul took that one too. There he was. Between them. Not carried. Supported. Bryan helped him rise, taking most of the weight only until Paul’s legs found the floor again. Lilly smiled at him. “That was a very big try.” Paul’s eyes brightened. “Walked.” Bryan had coordinated entire stunt sequences across sets where one wrong movement could cost millions or destroy lives. He had watched performers leap from buildings, roll cars, fight through fire, and walk away while crews applauded. None of it had ever felt as brave as five uneven steps across a nursery floor. Lilly squeezed Paul’s hand. “Should we go find breakfast?” Paul’s attention shifted immediately. “Cake?” Of course. Bryan laughed softly. Lilly tried to maintain authority and failed before she started. “Maybe breakfast first.” Paul tilted his head. The pacifier bobbed once. “Cake breakfast.” Bryan looked toward Lilly. There was something almost teenage in the stubborn logic. Buried. Translated through the little state. But there. Lilly’s smile widened. “I think we can find something yummy.” Bryan looked around the nursery. The night’s supplies still needed to be gathered. Paul’s things for Martina waited to be packed. Pain medication needed to be logged. Comfort items chosen. Clothes folded. Instructions checked. The workday waited too. His workday. Lilly’s. The world outside the nursery continued insisting that time move normally. Bryan lifted Paul’s hand slightly. Paul looked at him. Then toward Lilly. Cake lived in Lilly’s direction. The decision was immediate. Paul released Bryan’s hand. Not hesitantly. Not sadly. He turned toward Lilly with surprising confidence. “Let’s go, Mommy.” The words came clearer than anything else he had said that morning. Still soft. Still slightly lisped. But organized. Purposeful. Lilly’s face changed. The delight appeared first. Then something deeper beneath it. A small flash of the private tenderness she was learning to hold carefully—the joy of being chosen, followed immediately by the reminder that love meant helping him move forward, not keeping him dependent on the choosing. She chuckled and tightened her hand gently around his. “Well, somebody knows exactly what he wants.” “Cake.” “Yes, I heard.” Paul stepped forward. One foot. Then another. His balance remained uncertain, but holding Lilly’s hand gave him enough confidence to continue. He moved slowly toward the door, leading only in intention. Lilly matched every step, adjusting her pace to his without making it obvious. Bryan followed for the first two. Watching. Ready. Paul’s legs shook, but he didn’t sit. He reached the doorway. Then looked back. Bryan stood among the rumpled bedding, discarded overnight clothes, medicine wrappers, and the quiet evidence of the care that had carried them to morning. For one second, father and son looked at each other. Paul lifted his free hand. A tiny wave. “Bye, Daddy.” Bryan’s throat tightened. “Not bye,” he said gently. “I’m right behind you.” He turned back toward the hallway. Lilly glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll get him fed,” she said. “You get him packed.” Bryan nodded. “Got it.” Paul looked up at her, drawn by the sound. Then repeated with growing urgency, “Cake, Mommy.” “I know, Mister Cake Man.” Together, they continued down the hall. Paul’s steps guided by Lilly’s steady hand and the powerful motivation of promised sweetness somewhere ahead. Bryan remained in the nursery doorway and watched them go. Lilly dressed beautifully for a day in front of cameras, moving at the pace of a frightened young man relearning the hallway. Paul in his fresh outfit, walking instead of crawling because he had decided he wanted down. The two of them disappearing toward the kitchen. For a moment, Bryan forgot the bags. The calls. The trust fund. The school. All of it. He saw only five steps. A laugh after falling. A complete sentence. Let’s go, Mommy. Not the eighteen year old Paul. Not yet. But not nothing. Never nothing. Bryan looked around the nursery, inhaled slowly, and began gathering what Paul would need for the day. Behind him, faintly from the hallway, Paul’s voice carried through the house. “Cake!” Lilly’s laughter followed. And the morning, uncertain as it was, finally began moving forward.

Chapter 47 Play Time at Shelly’s Shelly tugged my hand again and I followed her over to their living room. The coffee table was covered with crayons and several coloring books. As Shelly and the other ‘little girl’ dropped to their knees and picked up a crayon each, I heard Shelly’s mom call out, “Lunch will be in a little while sweetie. We’re eating out on the back deck.” Shelly was already intently coloring in some kind of spaceship as she answered back in a loud voice, “Okay Mommy…” The other ‘little girl’ seemed familiar, but she just knelt on the other side of the table and was quiet. She looks vaguely familiar… What did Shelly call her? Sammy?!?! Then it clicked, from Miss Beth’s party! She was there. She and Shelly played for a bit that night. But she stayed a bit… shy. Maybe she’s not so keen on playing ‘little’ in front of strangers? It can’t be that she’s never seen a guy wearing a dress and diapers… Shelly’s right here! Didn’t Shelly’s mom say they couldn’t visit Miss Beth much, because they visited Sammy often?? I tried to be friendly and spoke first, “Hi. What are you coloring?” I pointed at the children’s book in front of her. It was opened to a page with a pony half colored in. I’m not sure why but she suddenly stood up and dashed towards the kitchen. Her voice seemed upset as she ran, “Mommy?!?! Mommy where are you?!?!??” I stared after her. One thing was for sure, from behind, her hips looked very much all girl. The way that pink pullup slipped between the tops of her legs and narrowed at her waist… “Don’t stare Tammy, it only upsets her more,” Shelly said quietly. I blinked and stared at her. She went on to explain, “She… she has a thing about penises… Or is the plural penii? Anyway, just keep pretending you’re a little girl and she’ll be okay.” I sank the rest of the way from kneeling to sitting on my bottom. I lowered my voice and said, “Oh…. Didn’t she know I was coming?” Shelly nodded and whispered, “Yeah, she and her mommy knew. She’s been seeing a therapist and all, slowly getting over it. But sometimes she still panics a little and gets scared. Her mommy will talk with her, help her calm down. Here, have the red crayon.” I took the proffered crayon and flipped open a connect-the-dot book. The first page turned out to be a sailboat. Then something that looked like a fire-engine I guess. We didn’t see Sammy again, but I tried to just do as Shelly had said and concentrated on the activity book in front of me. A few pages later and Shelly’s mom appeared from the kitchen, clapping her hands twice, “Okay you two… Lunch time. Come along now…” Shelly rose and I followed her through the house. The breakfast nook in the kitchen was brightly lit with sunshine streaming in a large sliding-glass door. He strode out it onto a large deck, but I froze at the threshold. There was Mommy, Shelly, her mommy Miss Sarah, and Sammy with another woman that must be her ‘mommy’. They were all shuffling around a large patio table with an umbrella, getting ready to sit down for lunch. Eating outside? Where… where someone might… I felt a gentle surge in my dick as I wet in my ‘little house’. I reached for the front of my dress and pushed my hand between my legs as I heard someone say, “Carole….” Mommy looked over at me and came towards me. She gently reached for my hand and whispered, “It’s okay darling… now come along… Mommy’s right here.” And with that she gently tugged and led me to an open chair. But before she let me sit down, she raised her voice a little, “Tammy? You remember Miss Julia and her baby girl Samantha.” Sammy was quick to burst out, “Sammy!! I don’t like Samantha.” Miss Julia gave her a glaring look and said sharply, “Sammy! Be nice.” Sammy closed her mouth and dropped her chin shyly. But the woman looked at me and smiled, “So nice to meet again Tammy. It’s nice to see your manners have improved.” Manners improved? Oh crap! She’s referring to the party where Mommy took me out to the ‘woodshed’ to teach me some manners…. Shelly’s mom spoke up, “Well, now that we know everybody, let’s have some lunch. Sammy darling, I made sure to have some fresh strawberries for you, I know how you don’t like green things.” Sammy seemed to perk up at that, she grinned and answered, “Ooo… THANKS AUNTIE-SARAH!!!” As I looked around at the six of us, I realized the seating happened to be, mommy, ‘little girl’, mommy, ‘little girl’, and finally my Mommy and me. As Mommy put a scoop of fruit salad on my plate, I looked around. There was a good-sized fence, so I needn’t have worried about neighbors. Along one side was a flower bed with quite a variety of flowers. Hanging from a mid-sized tree was a bird feeder, with a couple of small yellow birds flitting around it. Mommy must have looked where I was staring, she spoke to Miss Sarah, “Lovely flowers Sarah, where do you find the time?” I looked over at Shelly’s mom to listen, “Oh no… That’s not me. When this little thing isn’t playing dressup, he loves working in his garden.” Mommy and I looked at Shelly and caught a hint of pink in her cheeks. Then Miss Sarah added, “Although… one time he tinkled in his pants while gardening. Ended up covered in mud from head to toe. Didn’t you sweetie? Mommy made you take off your dirty things before coming in the house.” At that, Miss Julia and Mommy both laughed and I couldn’t help but snicker as Shelly’s face turned bright red. The thought of her sitting in a puddle of mud, splashing it about. I grinned to myself… Almost sounds like fun! I remember making sandcastles as a kid one summer when we went to a beach. Sammy interrupted, “Dat’s cuz BOYS ARE STUPID!!!” Her outburst got her a gentle reprimand from her mommy, “Now Sammy, do you want to spend some time in the corner with a sore bottom?” Instantly cowed by the woman, Sammy lowered her voice and whispered, “No mommy… I’s sowwy.” Sigh… what is it about us ‘littles’…. We all seem to end up spanked at some point. I guess I’m not alone in that. From that point on, the three ‘mommies’ chatted about all sorts of things. The flowerbeds, the prices in the grocery store. Both Miss Julia and Miss Sarah complimented Mommy on her dress, to which Mommy modestly thanked them. Shelly then had to mimic them, saying, “Tammy’s dress is pretty too!” Sammy nodded and added, “The pretty bow in your ribbon is cute.” Suddenly the center of attention, Miss Julia noticed my necklace and asked, “Where did you get that pretty necklace sweetie? Is that your name it spells?” I blushed red. I had barely noticed when Mommy slipped it around my neck this morning, but once Miss Julia noticed it, my hand reached up to try and cover it. I looked around and everyone was staring at me, waiting for an answer. I managed to mumble, “M… Mommy got it for me….” Miss Sarah grinned and said, “Well it’s just darling! I should see about getting one for my Shelly.” At the mention of her, Shelly squirmed and sat up a little, “Mommy? Can we be excused now? I wanted to show Tammy my nursery.” Miss Sarah seemed to reach under the table and pat her leg as she said, “Of course sweetie, just remember to behave yourselves.” But as the three of us started to get up, Mommy reached for my hand and said gently, “Just a minute sweetie.” Then she turned to Miss Julia, “Julia? Would it help Sammy if she saw it?” I was confused, but I saw Sammy lean against her mommy as Miss Julia looked up at her. Sammy gave a tiny nod as Miss Julia’s arm went around her waist and held her close. Saw what? Mommy tugged me a little closer and she reached up to gently hold my shoulder. She whispered up at me, “Mommy’s right here little one… just do as Mommy says and you’ll be fine.” I felt a little scared all of a sudden. Just do as Mommy says… What is Mommy going to… “Lift up your dress sweetie. Both hands now….” Mommy was smiling at me as her hands gently pushed up my dress on each side. My hands slowly reached and did as she said. “A little higher sweetie, so Sammy and Miss Julia can see…” I started getting more scared, I looked over at Shelly and Miss Sarah and I felt myself flooding my diaper. Here I am, showing off my baby pants and thick diapers, and everyone is watching as I wet myself. I tried to clench down and managed to stop. Suddenly I wanted to hide. I lifted my hands up higher and covered my face with the front of my dress. Mommy’s hand gently cupped my bottom. She whispered again, “It’s okay… But I want Sammy to know…” Know what? That I’m a diaper-wearing baby? That I can’t help wetting myself sometimes? That I… that I… I felt Mommy’s hands on the front of the waistband of my baby pants and they started to pull. All I could do was whine, “Mommy!!! PLEASE!!!!” She’s going to show them… show them my… my helpless … I closed my eyes as tears welled up… I felt the coolness of the air as she exposed the most humiliating part of my life…. “See Sammy? Just like your cousin Shelly. All nice and safe…” Mommy’s voice was soft and loving. Then I felt a yank that made me take a half-step forward as Mommy explained, “Just like Shelly, she puts it on all by herself. But it can’t come off until I decide. I have her little key.” I heard Miss Julia, “Feel better darling? She can’t hurt you. She even puts it on by herself… just like your cousin Shelly.” I felt Mommy’s fingers tugging my diaper back up over it and fuss with the waist band of my panties. Then she touched my hands, guiding them back down to lower my dress. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me. I was weeping quietly against her shoulder as she rubbed my back. She whispered, “Now now… it’s who you are…. You did this because it’s who you are…. Mommy’s here… Mommy just showed them what you truly are…. Mommy loves you….” I heard the shuffle of chairs as everyone else was getting up. Miss Sarah spoke quietly, “Shelly, give Tammy a couple minutes. I’ll bring her to the nursery and then you kids can play some more.” There were footsteps and I heard Miss Julia say quietly, “I’ll give you a hand sis….” I held onto Mommy tight. She… she showed everyone. But… but she said I can never tell anyone about her? Is that fair? She decides who can know about her… her switching. But I… she decides everyone can know about… Mommy gently pushed me away a little and lifted her hand under my chin. As if reading my mind, she whispered, “Because I’m the mommy. That’s why. Remember, it was your choice to put it on. Not mine. But I’m still the mommy and I decide most everything…” I saw Julia walking outside again and pick up the last of the lunch dishes. She paused and spoke quietly to Mommy, “Thanks Carole… she is working on it, but that helped a lot.” Then she looked right at me and added, “And thank you sweetie… Thank you for doing that for my little Sammy.” Mommy suddenly spoke up, “As much as I’d love for you to think that Julia….” Mommy turned to me, “Tell her sweetie. Tell her the truth.” When I didn’t say anything, Mommy did. She said, “The truth Julia, is he didn’t know about Sam. It was just a coincidence that he put it on this morning. It was his choice, but it wasn’t for Sam. He just decided he needed to be locked away for a while.” I think Miss Julia raised an eyebrow. I was busy wiping tears from my face and eyes so I’m not sure. But she said, “Oh… Okay. Well, I know Shelly wears hers sometimes besides just playdates with my Sammy. So… I guess it’s just a thing for some.” Mommy’s arm was around my shoulder holding me close. She agreed, “Yeah, I guess so. Surrendering completely to her mommy. But we love them anyway.” Miss Julia nodded, “Yeah, that we do. We love them dearly. Well, whatever the reason, thank you Tom, for helping my Sam feel safe.” She turned and carried her load inside. Mommy slipped her arm in mine and kissed my cheek, “See? Nobody thinks anything less of you. People like you just as you are. Now… let’s go see that nursery.” Her smile made me feel better and I let her lead me inside. We got directions from Miss Sarah and walked down a short hallway and I heard Sammy say excitedly, “Get that one! Get HIM!!!” There on the floor in the middle of the room, Shelly was playing a video game and Sammy was watching. I looked about a little. There was a dresser with a stack of diapers, a single sized bed, some children’s toys on the floor and decals on the walls. The floor had soft carpet and there was a teddy bear on the bed. Mommy gave my bottom a gentle tap and said, “Have fun with your little friends sweetie, Mommy will be in the kitchen helping with the dishes.” I stepped in and sat down on the side of Shelly opposite Sammy. I didn’t want to upset Sammy. We both watched Shelly exploring and digging up a treasure chest. I heard Sammy comment on the treasure, “Ooo.. Rubies are pretty. I like red things.” Shelly giggled, “Yeah, like strawberries!!!” I couldn’t help but giggle a little as Sammy playfully ‘punched’ Shelly’s shoulder. After Shelly defeated a small band of ogre-like things, she paused the game and offered me the controller, “Want to give it a try?” I did okay for a game I’ve never played before. At least that’s what Shelly said as I died and respawned a second time. After dying a third time, Sammy was getting bored. We knew this because she said simply, “I’m bored. Can I play with your dolly Shelly?” Shelly was the ‘perfect hostess’ and agreed. She politely suggested, “Sure… Tammy? How about we turn this off and play something else?” I shrugged and handed the controller back to her. Shelly crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner and I followed, crawling behind. It occurred to me; crawling isn’t bad on this carpet. And standing up just to take a couple of steps and sit back down doesn’t make sense. Crawling is easier. Shelly found a pink car for a dolly, and Sammy giggled and helped her dolly ‘climb’ the mountain that was the bed. I had a farm tractor and we were pushing them around between the toy box and the ‘crib’ and the dresser. “Beep Beep Beep! Here comes Miss Barbara…” “Ooo… can you bring me some strawberries Tammy? From the farm over there…” “Otay… here we come! And some red apples too…” “Yummy…. LOOK OUT!!! She’s going to FALL!!!!” (this was when Sammy’s dolly ‘fell’ from the crib to the floor) “Look out!! We need to get to the doctor!!! … And so it went, we played like little kids, making things up along the way, changing the names of different parts of the room. What one minute was the ‘farm’, became the ‘hospital’. Then the ‘road’ between the crib and the video game console became the ‘racetrack’. At one point when Sammy was climbing on the bed, Shelly whispered, “You’re doing great Tammy, Sammy is relaxing a lot better now.” I blushed a moment, realizing that part of the reason Sammy was feeling better was that Mommy had showed her I… I didn’t really have a penis today… Shelly and I found a checkers game and sat opposite each other on the floor, sorting the red and black checkers on the board. After we each won one game, we were just starting to play the tiebreaker when Shelly stopped and looked past me. As I turned around to see what she was looking at, Shelly raised her voice and called loudly, “Auntie J…. SAMMY NEEDS NAPTIMES!!!” I wasn’t sure what she meant, but Sammy was sitting on the floor with her back to us. But then I noticed she was rocking gently on the teddy bear underneath her. Shelly reached and touched my shoulder. He whispered, “Don’t look Tammy, her mommy will take care of it.” In just a couple of seconds, I heard footsteps and Miss Julia was in the doorway. She spoke gently, “Sammy? What have I said about playing with kitty in front of strangers? Come along now… you can lay on the couch in the living room.” I blushed bright red. I THOUGHT that’s what it looked like, but I didn’t want to stare… Sammy stood up and went to Miss Julia, asking, “Did… did you bring my toy Mommy?” Miss Julia smiled and patted her on her bottom, “Yes dear, it’s in your diaper bag. Now come along.” Just as Miss Julia was turning, she looked back at me and said, “Tammy sweetie… rubbing it won’t help. Just play your checkers.” Then she left. I blushed red when I realized what she was referring to. My hand was between my legs as my cock was twinging and trying to get hard. I had reached for it just from seeing what Sammy had been doing. Shelly moved a checker and said, “Your turn Tammy.” I tried to concentrate and looked back at Shelly. I lowered my voice and asked, “Was she really? I mean, right here with us in the room?” Shelly looked at me a little annoyed, “I thought you wanted to play checkers?” I made some random move, my mind not on the game. Soon I had lost four pieces to her one. I stopped and asked, “Does she… do that often? I mean… right in front of….” Shelly chuckled, “Yeah… it used to bother me a lot more. But since I can’t really relieve myself while she’s here…. “ Shelly moved a checker, “King me. She’s not supposed to do it in front of me. Aunt Julia lets her masturbate all she wants, but respects not upsetting others.” I topped his piece to ‘king’ it. Then I said, “Or maybe she does it to tease us. A way to get even with us for having…. You know… between our legs.” Double jump. Dang! Missed that! Shelly added, “I spoke with her therapist once. At their request. She asked how I feel about it. Told her I put my little house on for her… so I’m okay with it. She’s really a great person, can’t help what happened and what it did to her.” I pushed my last man directly in front of her king as a way of giving up and resigning. I said simply, “You win. Okay, but I’m not sure I’m going to be…. Wearing this very often.” Shelly nodded and picked up the checkers, asking, “So, why are you today? Your mommy said it was your choice?” I felt myself blushing. Shelly was quickly becoming a ‘best friend’ and we shared things I couldn’t share with anyone besides Mommy. I stared at my hand as I pushed it between my legs. I wasn’t trying to play with myself, It was just something I felt like doing. A sort of security, holding my diaper. I wasn’t really sure what the answer was, but I tried to explain, “I… I just felt like I deserved it. I’ve been having a lot of…. “ I shrugged and mumbled, “you know….” Then I added, “Sort of like… like when I know I need a spanking. I know I get cranky and screw up, and Mommy will warn me. But I misbehave anyway, because I… I kind of want her to spank.” Shelly reached and hugged me. She whispered, “I know that feeling… Sometimes I want my mommy to spank me too.” When she let go, I nodded and looked at my knees, “It’s…. it’s sort of the same with… with my little house. I… I just felt this was something I deserved this morning.” I heard footsteps and Mommy appeared in the doorway, “Tammy darling… it’s getting late. We need to get home and get ready for work tomorrow.” I squirmed and managed to stand up. As I stepped towards Mommy, I realized my diaper was a lot heavier than it was after lunch. I reached behind and pulled a little at my panties and Mommy slipped her arm around me as we headed back towards the living room. Sammy was standing in front of her mommy as her mommy held out some shorts. Miss Julia was struggling a little and I realized Sammy wasn’t wearing a pullup now, but a full sized diaper. It was pink, just like the pullup, but it was apparent that her shorts were a tight fit over it. After fastening Sammy’s shorts, Miss Julia turned her and patted her rump, “Now, say good by to your cousin and her friend Tammy.” Sammy’s waddle seemed a little exaggerated but she came over and hugged Shelly and kissed her on the cheek, saying, “Bye Bye Shelly… see you next weekend.” I was a little uncomfortable about it, but she hugged me next. No kiss, but she smiled a little smile and said, “Nice playing with you too Tammy. Bye bye…” Then she turned and reached to take Julia’s hand. Julia had a large tote over her shoulder and waved at Miss Sarah, “See you later Sis… Next weekend at my place?” Miss Sarah waved and said, “See ya… I’ll call you.” After they left, it was our turn. Miss Sarah came over and gave me a hug, and a little peck on my cheek. She added, “It was nice having you sweetie… Come again.” … In the car, Mommy was pretty casual, “Did you have a nice time? Julia said you had a little trouble when Sammy started to ‘flick her bean’.” She giggled when she said that phrase, grinning at me when she said it. I squirmed a little and looked at my hands in my lap. I muttered, “Just…just a little. I didn’t know she was going to do that in front of me.” Mommy nodded sagely, “Yeah, Julia says it’s a sign she’s accepting you as a little girl. Harmless. But she asks her not to do it too much in front of Shelly. Sometimes it gets Shelly worked up too much.” … When we got home it was just after four. Mommy tossed her keys on the counter and asked me to put my diaper bag on a chair in the front room. As I set it down, I felt her hand on my bottom giving it a squeeze. She announced simply, “I think it can go a little longer. Why don’t you go up in your play room and play one of your games sweetie. Mommy will get dinner in a little bit but right now I have some things to do.” I turned to look at her and her reaction was a swat on my bottom, with “Now sweetie, be a good girl and do as Mommy says.” I looked up the stairs and started climbing with a “Yes Mommy.” I got to my playroom and sat down on the floor with a slight squish. I turned on the computer and loaded my game. I finished the level I had been working on but then I remembered the game Shelly had. I paused the game and searched for the title. I found it, but I needed my credit card. I squirmed to stand up and walked down the hall towards the bedroom where my wallet was. The door was almost closed and when I got closer, I heard something. It was a soft moan from Mommy. I tried to look through the crack in the door but couldn’t see. Then I heard another moan. Maybe if I sneak in… down on my hands and knees… I gently pushed the door open a little further and crawled in. As soon as I could see the bed, I froze. There was Mommy, naked. Her knees were up in the air as she lay back on the bed. Her arm was jiggling and that’s when I saw the toy. The same toy I had used on myself a few days ago. I couldn’t take my eyes off of that bit of plastic in her fingers. It was moving in and out… inside her pussy. I could see a sheen of moisture on the toy. As I crawled a little closer, I realized my cock was starting to strain in its ‘little house’. I moved sideways a little so I was directly between her feet for a better view. When I raised my head a little, I saw her other hand gripping her breast. God she is so hot! Look at those dark black curls…. Being parted by that toy. Was it on? Yes, I hear a faint buzzing. So this was the ‘things’ she had to do. My hand reached between my legs, pushing my dress up until my hand was cupping my wet diaper against my beans. I rubbed a little, feeling how my diaper gently stroked over my nuts, but nothing on my cock. As I felt my cock trying even more to get hard, I remembered… Just because you decide to deny yourself sex, doesn’t mean I’m going to fore go it. I mean it Tom… But she said she’d let me out again… eventually… She… she’s getting close… She’s going to climax any minute now. My hand was rubbing and my diaper was crinkling. I whimpered a little as my helpless cock felt nothing. “Little Tammy watching Mommy?” I heard Mommy’s soft voice. Then, “It’s okay to watch sweetie… watch how grown women have their fun.” I felt my hips starting to rock as I whispered, “Y…yes Mommy…” Her hand seemed to start plunging her toy faster as she gasped and said in a husky voice, “Too bad for Tammy… Mommy told you…. Mommy decides for Tammy…” I whined a little as it felt like my cock was dribbling into my diaper. All I could do was rub faster but it didn’t help. I whimpered, “Yes Mommy…. “ I’m not sure if it was my submission, or something she was fantasizing, but she suddenly dropped her hips, lifting her knees to her chest as her hand thrust the vibrating dildo in and out and I saw a small squirt of her juices come out as she climaxed. Her legs dropped and she pulled her toy out. She was gasping and I felt my own sense of disappointment. I felt my muscles trying to squeeze, trying to make something happen with my cock but it didn’t work. Then I heard Mommy’s voice. It was calm and quiet, “Sweetie… Come lick me clean.” “Mommy?” I whined. My cock was still feeling desperate, craving for a touch. “Now Tammy, or I’ll get your paddle and then you can do it.” I took my hand from my crotch as I crawled forward to the end of the bed. I carefully climbed up and saw that she used one hand to lift her head to look at me. I could smell her sex as she gently lifted her knees a little. As I lowered my face, she said quietly, “You don’t have to make me cum sweetie, just clean it up a bit for now.” I nodded and closed my eyes. I gently licked. But her scent was super strong and my cock was still flinching and wanting free. She knew what she was doing, and the effect it was having. But after just a minute, she tapped my head, “That’s enough sweetie.” She swung one leg over me and then both to the side of the bed to sit up. But before she stood up, she held up her toy, pointed right at me. All she said was, “Now lick this for Mommy.” I blushed red as she slowly pushed it across my lips. All she said was, “Come on now Tammy. I’ve told you, girls suck them all the time.” Maybe it was my cock’s desperation, maybe if I did this… maybe she’d let me free… Maybe… I parted my lips and let her slowly slide it into my mouth. It tasted of Mommy, but having it filling my mouth was embarrassing. My face was getting redder by the second as Mommy pushed it in and out a couple times. Just as I was about to reach up and try to push her hand away, she pulled it from me, whispering, “That’s my little girl…” Then she stood up and took her toy to the bathroom. I was still on my hands and knees on the bed when she returned and put her cleaned toy in her drawer. I watched as she picked up her dress from the floor and slipped it over her head. No panties, no bra, just that dress. She started towards the door with, “How about just a slice of ham with mac & cheese for dinner baby?” With that, she left me still kneeling on the bed. Still wearing my bonnet, dress, and thoroughly wet diaper. My cock slowly softening, the grip of my little house easing. To Be Continued

Richy's processing is completed and he is sent home. We then move three years into the future to find that his sister has a big day ahead of her as we see what Richy's post designation life looks like. --- I am only able to write as much as I do thanks to the generosity and support of my subscribers. Writing is my only source of income and it is because of these people that I am able to do that. It allows me to keep the lights on and puts food in my fridge. My subscribers get early access to all my stories, and access to around 30 EXCLUSIVE stories that are only available for my subscribers along with other benefits. If you are interested in supporting me and getting these benefits please consider checking out one of my subscriber pages. Thank you ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- “Guards!” Brianna called out, “He’s ready.” “Ready?” Richard repeated. “To be moved to the pen.” Brianna smiled. “Oh.” Richard was struggling to keep up. There were just too many thoughts going through his brain. “Here. Put this on.” Brianna carried over a plain red t-shirt. It was very similar to the one Richard had seen on the other person that had been designated Baby when he had been in the queue. It was awkward. Richard hadn’t let someone dress him for as long as he could remember. There was more than a little fumbling before the shirt was pulled over his head and down his body. Predictably, it didn’t cover his diaper. His diaper. HIS diaper. Richard found the words swirling around his head as the guards stood by the open door waiting for him. Brianna helped him off the table and he could immediately feel the difference to what he had been wearing previously. The padding pushed his thighs apart and when he moved, he could feel it all rubbing against him, which wasn’t to mention the noise. Each crinkle was deafening. “Could you take him to the pen.” Brianna asked the guards. Richard had his arm taken by one of the guards and he was led out of the nurse’s room. It was like trying to walk with a pillow between his legs, he kept trying to squeeze his knees together only to find that the diaper blocked that from happening. He was made to waddle back towards the lobby and, for a heart stopping second, thought he was going to be paraded in front of everyone else. Instead, the guards opened another door that led to a large room to the side of the lobby. Richard found a playpen with five other adults in it. All of them looked distressed. Outside of the pen there was a glass wall, and on the other side of that… “Oh God…” Richard moaned. He ducked behind the guard, desperate to not be seen. The other side of the glass partition was a lot of people, mainly couples, looking in and smiling. As Richard was led in, he saw that a lot of faces turned his way and he had to quickly drop his gaze to the ground as his face blazed from the humiliation. He didn’t understand what was happening, it was almost like a zoo. The gate to the playpen was opened and Richard was given a little push in the back to make him toddle inside. He turned around to see the gate being closed. The guards left the room shortly thereafter. Richard looked up at the glass again. It was strange he could see people talking to each other, laughing, smiling, pointing Littles out… but he couldn’t hear anything. “Help!” Richard shouted, “Help!” There was no reaction from the people on the other side of the glass. His shoulders sagged and he turned away. He wasn’t even sure what help he could expect. He had been designated Little and that was all that mattered. No one could do a single thing to help him. Richard slumped to the ground and looked around at what he now realised was a playpen. The space was large, and amply equipped with toys, which seemed somewhat optimistic if the current inhabitants of the playpen were anything to go by. There were five other people, all separated from each other as if they were each worried they might catch something. There was another young man on the far side of the pen. He had a red scarf around his neck and seemed almost comatose. Presumably the shock of having his life ripped away from him. There were two women, both looking morose and with scarfs around their necks, it took Richard a second to realise, because one had her back to him, that they were twins. Another young woman was against the side of the pen with her legs drawn up and hiding her face, which also unfortunately exposed more of her diaper. The final young man was nearest Richard. He was sitting with his legs open idly batting a ball back and forth looking strangely less affected than everyone else. Richard scooted a little closer to him. “They can’t hear you.” The young man said without looking up. “Huh?” Richard grunted. “The people, the… Bigs.” The man said with a sigh, “You were shouting. The glass is thick and soundproof.” “Why are they even there?” Richard asked as he tried to pull his shirt lower, “I’m Richard, by the way.” “Charlie.” The man replied, “And they’re there to adopt us.” “A-Adopt… but my parents…” Richard stammered. “Relax. Not all of us.” Charlie said, “Just the ones with red scarves.” Richard looked around the pen again and saw that there was a very clear difference between those with the scarf and those without. He suddenly realised that describing the pen as being like a zoo was wrong, it was more like a pet shop. The Bigs were prospective “parents” choosing Littles. “There seems to be a lot of us.” Richard said, “I thought it was only a few people who were designated Little.” “Yeah…” Charlie shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s bad luck, maybe they lie about the figures to stop young people rioting. Who knows…” Richard slumped down. He found himself subconsciously checking for a red scarf even though he knew he wasn’t wearing one. It must’ve been a good sign. Surely it meant that his parents hadn’t abandoned him… yet. “You seem very calm about all this.” Richard said. He was aware that he wasn’t screaming anymore either, he was exhausted from the struggle up to then. “Meh, I kind of expected it.” Charlie replied, “Not too bothered, to be honest.” ““Not too bothered?”” Richard repeated with a frown. “Yeah, it could be worse.” Charlie shrugged again. Richard was starting to regret talking to Charlie. At first, he thought he might have someone to share his pain, now he felt like he was talking to someone who had lost their mind. This was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to Richard, and he was pretty sure the rest of the people in the playpen felt the same way. He decided that Charlie was probably lying to himself to get through what was happening. Before Richard could work out how to reply, or if he even wanted to, the door he had walked through previously opened. Richard looked up to see who the latest poor soul being thrown in with the others was. But it wasn’t another person designated Little, it was two Bigs. It was Richard’s parents. Richard caught a glimpse of them and immediately his eyes filled with tears again. He had a childish want for his mom and dad to fix everything, to tell the government that there was a mistake and that he was a Big. He could see from his mother’s eyes that no such thing was going to happen. Both Richard’s parents had very serious looks on their faces as they walked in. “Oh, Richy…” Davina said with a sigh. It was all Richard could take. He started loudly crying again. He couldn’t take his parents seeing him like this, it felt like the final nail in the coffin. He covered his face and started to wail louder than ever before. He was barely aware of one of the guards opening the playpen gate and his parents coming in. “Come on, son.” William said as he hooked his hands under Richard’s armpits and helped him to stand up, “Let’s get you home.” Richard stumbled forwards and out of the playpen flanked by his parents. His life had been flipped upside down and there was going to be an awful lot of adjusting to come. --- Three Years Later… --- Richy sat in his playpen. His diaper, wet from an “accident” in his highchair during breakfast, squished underneath him. There was a lot of activity in the house that morning. Richy was mildly interested as he sucked on his pacifier. One of the very, very few benefits of his position was the complete lack of stress in most things. He never had a deadline, he never had to look after anything, he wasn’t expected to do a single thing. It had been a little over three years since Richy had been designated Little and his feelings hadn’t changed at all. He saw it as a loathsome experience, a never-ending degradation that he had no choice but to endure. He tried not to think too far into the future anymore, it was liable to give him panic attacks. The worst part of it all, for Richy, as his family insisted on calling him, was watching his parents and sister start to look at him differently as time went on. When he was walked out of the Designation Office it seemed like his parents were as shocked as he was, the drive home had been in near silence apart from his sobbing. Over the days that followed his life was completely upended. There had been a near continuous stream of deliveries made to the house as everything he knew and owned was replaced. With each new baby item acquired, it was like Richy could see his family’s opinion change just a little more. After a few months they seemed to think that him being a Little was completely normal and fine. Richy still fought things, but by that stage his parents were finished with acting like he was an equal. Since then, each day had been monotonous. Richy rarely left the house, which he was grateful for because it was awful being seen as a Little by anyone. He woke up in his crib, had his diaper changed, was fed breakfast, played with toys, had his diaper changed again, ate lunch, nap time, more playing, diaper change, dinner, and then was soon after put back in his crib. It was mind-numbing. Richy didn’t talk much anymore. His parents didn’t like him doing it, anything beyond babbling or basic words would get a stern look. Sometimes, if he really got frustrated and pushed the boundaries, it would end up with a punishment, often a spanking, that left him in tears. He had been rebellious for the first month, he tried to fight everything that changed, but he was gradually worn down. His becoming more docile was sped along when the Designation Office sent inspectors to the home. The inspectors were very serious people. They visited Littles at home and assessed their environment, made sure they were being treated correctly, and made suggestions for improvements. In Richy’s case, they saw his continuing bad behaviour and issued a warning to the family. If Richy’s parents couldn’t get him under control, then he would be taken by the state and adopted by someone who could. That was a terrifying prospect for Richy. As horrible as it all was, it would’ve been worse surrounded by strangers, he was quite sure of that. Kate came into the living room and sat down on the couch. She had her shoes on and was looking at her phone, using her free hand to pick at her lip. She was clearly anxious, and it took Richy a moment to remember why. When it hit him, it was like a freight train. Kate’s eighteenth birthday had been a couple of weeks before; she was going to get designated. Suddenly the clear anxiety on her face made sense, she’d seen what being designated Little looked like after all, Richy couldn’t blame her for wanting to avoid it at all costs. “It’s time to go.” William, Rich and Kate’s dad, said as he held the car keys in his hand. “I don’t want to.” Kate replied. “I know, sweetheart, but you know there isn’t a choice.” William said to his daughter sympathetically, “I’m sure everything will be fine.” Richy, sucking on a pacifier, almost laughed. They spoke as if he wasn’t there, he knew that his input wasn’t wanted, heck, it was likely to get him in trouble. He wasn’t supposed to care about anything the grownups said to or around him. “Claire said it runs in families!” Kate said with an anxious frown, “I don’t want to… you know.” Kate was sweet, but Richy knew exactly what she meant. She didn’t want to end up like him. Her eyes flitted to his position in the playpen, she no doubt was picturing herself in there with him and how horrible it would be. Richy certainly wouldn’t deny that it sucked, though the company would be nice. “I’m sure that’s not true.” William said. “What if it is!?” Kate exclaimed. Richy watched his daddy sigh and then walk into the room. He sat down on the couch next to Kate and they shared a moment, he put an arm around her waist, and she leaned into the hug. Richy felt very much like he was intruding on a private moment. To make matters worse, his stomach was starting to rumble, and it had nothing to do with being hungry, it would be the high fibre diet he was fed everyday making his digestive system very quick, not helped by three years of ignoring signals that he needed the toilet. “We will love you no matter what.” William said softly. Richy could tell that it was scant comfort to his sister, but he could attest to his parents loving both their progeny. Despite how much harder he had made things for them by being designated Little, they still did their utmost to look after him, even if it meant doing things he greatly resented, even if he was having one of his “tantrums” as his mommy called it. Richy sat up on his knees, half bent over with his butt sticking out behind him. Before he closed his eyes, he saw Kate looking at him with fear, a worry that she was watching a portent of her future. Richy screwed his face up as he pushed with his tummy muscles, a routine he had gone through innumerable times in the previous three years. Nevertheless, it was still a process that brought him immense embarrassment and shame. Each dirty diaper feeling like confirmation of his place as a baby. In front of his dad and his sister, Richy reached out and held the bars of the playpen as he felt a momentary build up of pressure in his bowels. He let out the breath he had been holding as he felt his soft poop easily push out of his body, his mostly liquid and mushy food diet making his waste as soft as his diapers. It was all over after just a few seconds. Richy opened his eyes. Nothing seemed to have changed inside the living room, and yet the sticky feeling in the seat of his diaper told a different story. With a sigh, partly relief but mostly utter humiliation, Richy dropped back and sat on the floor, sinking into the mess he had created and feeling a small shiver go up his spine. His face was a bright red as he looked up at his family members bashfully. Kate looked like she was about to cry. “Oh dear.” William said quietly, “Don’t worry Richy, we’ll get mommy to come change you in a minute.” Richy had assumed as much. He had been very much encouraged not to ask for diaper changes. He was either supposed to get the attention of his parents by crying or simply wait for them to come check him. There was a minute or so of silence. Richy didn’t really know what to do, his diaper was starting to stink up the room, but Kate didn’t seem keen on leaving, he didn’t blame her. Eventually, it was Richy’s mommy walking in that seemed to unfreeze the moment. “Phew, smells like someone is overdue a change.” Davina said as she waved her hand in front of her face for dramatic effect. Richy thought she was exaggerating. It didn’t smell THAT bad, though he had to acknowledge he had become somewhat “nose blind” to himself. Davina turned to her daughter, “You two better get a move on, you know what happens if you’re late.” Kate took a deep shuddering breath and finally stood up. William followed and together they made their way out to the hallway. “Good luck.” Richy said quietly. “Thanks.” Kate replied without looking back at him. There were hugs and kisses before the front door opened, and Kate left the house. Richy stood up and looked through the front window as they made their way down the path, Kate already seemed to have shrunk into herself a little, like a threatened turtle retreating into their shell. He wished her luck. As much as it would provide him some comfort to have his sister in the same place as him, he wouldn’t wish the life he now had on his worst enemy. “Baby, you’re not supposed to be standing.” Davina said after she walked back into the living room. Richy quickly sat back down. The rules stated he wasn’t allowed to stand unless someone was holding his hand. As he landed back on his bottom, the mess in his diaper spread even more causing a shiver of disgust to go up his spine. “Well, you definitely need a change before your nap.” Davina said as she waved her hand in front of her nose, “But I’ll feed you your bottle first.” Davina left the room with Richy grimacing. He always hated when he was left in his poopy diaper for longer than absolutely necessary. He hadn’t yet got a diaper rash, which seemed like a miracle to him, but it still felt so gross. When his mom came back into the room holding a large bottle, she unclipped the lock on the playpen on her way to sitting back down on the couch. She patted her lap and Richy started crawling. It didn’t matter that it had been three years of crawling, Richy still felt embarrassed every single day. He was quite confident he would never learn to not be embarrassed by his position in society. When he was sometimes taken outside, which wasn’t often because of the tantrums he had, he sometimes saw other Littles that seemed very serene and accepting of their lives. He didn’t understand them at all. Richy climbed on to the couch with his bulging diaper swaying behind him. He turned over and laid down across his mommy’s lap, facing the ceiling and with one of her arms cradling his back. He found it difficult to meet her eyes. She had fully accepted and embraced his position, but far from making it easier, it seemed to make Richy feel even worse. In a well-practiced routine, Richy opened his mouth and soon tasted the latex tip of the bottle. The nipple, like the whole bottle, was much bigger than on an actual baby’s drinking device. It had taken some time to grow used to feeling it so far back on his tongue, but it was well short of his gag reflex or anything like that. He started sucking and soon felt cold milk bursting into his mouth. It tasted good, almost good enough to make him forget about the sludge he could feel pressing against his skin in his underwear. “Do you think Katie will be designated Little, baby?” Davina asked. Richy knew it was a rhetorical question. Something his mommy did to occupy her mind whilst waiting for him to fill up on milk. Richy didn’t try to respond, but he answered her in his head. He had no idea if she would be made Little or Big. He had never thought he himself would be designated Little, so he thought he probably knew less than anyone else. “Having two babies to take care of would be difficult…” Davina said idly, “We’re not made of money, your daddy has to work and just keeping up with you can be a challenge. I never expected to have to be doing all of this again. The government keep cutting the subsidies to help with looking after you too…” Richy was hearing things he never usually heard about. His parents usually made sure not to talk about anything grown up around him. It was the first time he had been hearing that his parents might’ve been struggling a little financially. “It’s typical, right?” Davina let out a little laugh and shook her head, “The men in suits create a burden for us and promise to help, and then… Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying any of this here. Drink up, baby.” Richy was quickly filling up on the milk. He knew it was a special formula, just like the food he was given. All fortified with extra minerals and vitamins which meant he could get by on a mostly liquid and mushy food diet. On rare occasions he was given solid food, as a treat, and those days were like magic. Tasting those delicious foods he used to know rather than the bland baby food was like all his Christmases coming at once. “I don’t know if we could cope with two babies.” Davina continued. She wasn’t looking at Richy, instead staring into the middle distance as she held the bottle to his lips, “We might have to consider…” Davina trailed off. Richy swallowed his milk with increased anxiety, a fresh burst of warmth in his diaper highlighting his fear. Had his mommy about to say that one of them would have to be adopted? Richy hoped not. As bad as his situation was, he didn’t want to leave his family, and he was keen for his sister to stay as well. “It doesn’t matter.” Davina said as she shook her head a little as if coming out of a daydream, “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. I’m sure your sister will be fine.” Richy finished his bottle in silence. The nipple, previously clear but now a milky white, was pulled from his lips. He was left panting slightly and could feel the milk weighing heavily in his stomach. His mommy looked at the bottle to make sure it had all been drunk and then placed it on the couch next to her. For a few seconds she remained seated, idly patting Richy’s bulging rear. “Let’s get you changed and down for your nap.” Davina finally said. Richy scrambled off his mommy’s lap. His stinky diaper was stuck against his skin but at least his mommy reached out her hand so he could walk upstairs. It was a lot better than having to crawl. He toddled after his mommy, waddling in the wide-legged way that would be recognisable to any mother with a small child. The shame was still immense, but Richy had learnt not to complain lest he wanted punishment. He was taken up to his nursery, a sight which would’ve shocked him if he went back in time four years and showed himself. He wished he could, at least it might’ve jolted him into action and stopped him ending up where he was. The nursery used to be Richy’s bedroom. When he woke up some mornings, he still expected to see his desk and computer opposite his bed, his consoles in front the television and a mess of clothes on the floor. Instead, he saw the bars of his white crib, the changing table opposite, a box of toys that was open and their contents scattered around the room, and a playmat. The sinking feeling he got when reality stepped in and asserted itself always made him want to cry. In the early days, sometimes he had done just that. “Up you get.” Davina said as she patted the padded changing table. Her other hand reaching to the shelf underneath to pull out a fresh diaper. Richy climbed up on to the table with little difficulty and laid down, sighing as he the humiliating ritual began. It was always the same. A pacifier was placed in his mouth, and he stared up at the ceiling, imagining an alternative world where he had been designated Big. He listened to the tapes of his used disposable get pulled and then felt fresh air as it was lowered. He closed his eyes as he was cleaned. It was particularly bad when it came to what his mommy referred to as his “boy parts.” He was a young man, he had urges which he wasn’t allowed to satisfy, it didn’t mean he never found a way, but it was difficult and if he was caught, he would get in big trouble. All of that meant that, sometimes, when his mommy pinched the end of his penis and used it to make space to clean, there could be a reaction. Richy closed his eyes as he was slowly wiped clean. It always took longer when he was messy. Sometimes, when mommy opened the diaper, the results were so bad she would abandon the endeavour and take him to the shower instead. This time she settled for making some comments about how stinky he was and set about her task. It was a relief, at that point, for the messy padding to be pulled away, balled up, and dropped into the pail at the end of the table. The fresh diaper was slipped underneath Richy and powder sprinkled on top. He sighed and felt pleased to be out of the poopy diaper, trying not to wonder how long it would be before he was in another one. Whenever he started thinking about what his future looked like it made it all much harder to take. He was helped off the changing table and led to the crib, which he climbed into with a pat of encouragement on the rear. “Have a nice nap.” Davina said as she kissed him on the forehead and raised the bars. Richy sucked on his pacifier as he pulled his baby blue blanket up and over him. It was crazy, he thought, just how much his parents, his mother in particular, truly saw him as a baby. As if the day before walking into the Designation Office he had been a mature adult, and the day after leaving it he was a useless baby, like he was a completely different person. He rolled over to face away from her as she left the room, pulling the door to but leaving the baby monitor on. Naps had become part of Richy’s everyday life. He may not have wanted to sleep when he was told to, but his body had grown used to it. He didn’t much want to admit it, but he definitely did get crankier when he missed his nap and spent the afternoon feeling tired and irritable. His last thoughts were of his sister, Katie, who despite his reduction in status had still always treated him a little like an equal. He wondered exactly what kind of relationship he would have with his sister when she returned with her destiny decided. --- If you liked this update and want to see the next update RIGHT NOW you can do so here: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/mozb40hx8a1381/chapter/mqdmgyyz79d54f5 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2540939

Chapter 3 Leah didn't move. Jeanette was still there. The room felt... held. Not smaller, not louder—just tighter, like the air had been pulled slightly inward around them. "You're making this harder than it needs to be." Leah's fingers rested against the desk, unmoving. "I'm not—" Jeanette tilted her head. "Then why does it feel like you are?" The question didn't land where it should have. It slipped past the words. Settled somewhere else. "What are you talking about?" Leah asked, quieter now. Jeanette didn't answer. She just watched her. Not searching. Not guessing. Like she already knew where to look. Leah felt it then—that small shift again. The same as earlier. Like something inside her had stepped back. "I don't have anything to tell you." It sounded thinner than she meant it to. Jeanette didn't react. "Nothing?" Leah shook her head. "No." A pause. Long enough to make the silence feel placed. Intentional. Leah's eyes dropped—just for a second— To the floor. The bag. Still where she had pushed it earlier. Her chest tightened. Why was she thinking about that? There was nothing there. Nothing anyone would— Her thoughts stalled. Jeanette's voice came softer. "Leah." She looked up. "You don't have to make it complicated." "I'm not." Another pause. Jeanette held her there a moment longer. Then— "Things don't stay hidden forever." Leah frowned. "What does that even mean?" Jeanette didn't answer right away. "It's always worse," she said quietly, "when I have to find it instead of you telling me." Leah's chest tightened again. "I'm not hiding anything." Jeanette held her gaze. "And I will find it." The words didn't rise. They didn't need to. They stayed where they were. Between them. The door had been open longer than Leah realized. She was already there. Leaning against the frame. Too still. Dark hair falling straight, unmoving. A lollipop resting lightly between her fingers. Her eyes were on Leah. Not curious. Not surprised. Just... waiting. "You're slow," she said. Quiet. Almost thoughtful. Leah frowned slightly. "What?" The girl tilted her head. Studying her. "Most people figure it out quicker." Leah felt it then. Not fear— Not yet. But something close. Like she had missed something obvious. And everyone else could see it. "Jeanette's patient with you," the girl continued. A small pause. The lollipop clicked softly against her teeth. "She's usually not." Leah's fingers tightened. "Why are you saying that?" The girl smiled. Not wide. Not kind. Just enough. "Because she's decided something about you." Leah's chest tightened. "What does that mean?" The girl pushed herself off the doorframe slowly. One step into the room. Not close— But closer. "It means she thinks you need help." A pause. Her gaze dropped briefly— To the bag. Then back up. "And she's not wrong." Something shifted in Leah's chest. Faster now. "You don't know anything about me." The girl tilted her head again. Slightly more this time. "No?" A small step closer. "Then why do you look like that?" Silence. Her gaze moved slowly. Not away— Just... over her. "The braids." A pause. "The skirt." Another. "The colors." Her eyes lifted back to Leah's. "You don't even see it, do you?" Leah's hand moved slightly—almost without thinking—toward her hair. Then stopped. Her chest tightened. She hadn't thought about it like that before. The girl's fingers rolled the lollipop slowly. "Maybe you just need better ones." Leah frowned. "What?" "Colors." A beat. "Something that fits." Her eyes flicked briefly to Jeanette. Then back. "I'm sure she could help you with that." A small pause. "Find something a little more... you." Leah didn't answer. Didn't know how. The room felt tighter again. The air thinner. Jeanette stood. "That's enough." Calm. Final. The girl didn't argue. Didn't need to. She just looked at Leah one last time. Longer than before. Like she was waiting for something to show. "Get some rest," she said quietly. A small pause. "You're going to need it." Her gaze flicked once more— To the bag. "Especially if you keep pretending." Then she turned. And walked. The soft click of the lollipop followed her out. Jeanette remained a moment longer. Watching Leah. Then— "We'll talk later." And she left. The door stayed open. Leah didn't move. Not right away. Her arms had pulled slightly closer to her body. Without her noticing. Smaller. Again. The room felt different now. Not empty. Just... aware. Her eyes moved slowly. The desk. The bed. The door. The bag. Her chest tightened. The thought came too fast. Not fully formed. Just sharp enough to stay. She had been in here. Leah swallowed. No. That didn't make sense. They hadn't— ...had they? She exhaled slowly. It wasn't what they said. It was how it felt. Like they weren't guessing. Like they were waiting. For her to catch up. Leah stood. Slowly. Walked to the bag. Her hand hovered over the zipper. A small pause. Then she pulled it open. The fabric shifted as she moved things aside. Something... wrong. Not how she had left it. Her fingers stopped. She stared. No. That hadn't been there before. Her breath caught. A cold, quiet feeling spread through her chest. A memory flickered— unwanted. "So you don't need to worry about that anymore." Her mother's voice. Soft. Certain. Leah didn't touch it. Just looked. Smaller. The room felt taller again. Like everything else had grown— and she hadn't. She pulled the bag closed. Too quickly. Like that would undo it. Her hand stayed on the zipper. Still. Jeanette's voice lingered somewhere in her head. Things don't stay hidden forever. Leah's eyes lifted slowly toward the door. What had she seen? She moved without thinking. Lay down on the bed. Didn't change. Didn't move. The ceiling blurred slightly above her. Her chest still tight. Not sharp. Just... there. Her hand reached for her phone. Almost without asking. The screen lit up. Lukas.His name sat there. Simple. Easy. Different. Leah stared at it. A second. Two. Her thumb hovered. Then— She typed. Are you awake? She didn't change it. Didn't think about it. Just sent it. The phone stayed in her hand. The room was quiet. But it didn't press the same way. Not right now. Chapter 4 Leah stared at the message longer than she meant to. Yeah. I'm here. The words were simple. Nothing in them. And still— something in her chest eased. Just a little. The room was quiet around her. Too quiet. The kind that made every small sound feel sharper than it should have. She turned onto her side, phone still in her hand. Her eyes moved—slowly— to the bag on the floor. Closed. Still. But not the same. Leah swallowed. She shouldn't. The thought came quickly. Clear. She shouldn't. Her thumb moved anyway. Can you come out for a bit? She stared at it. A second. Two. Then sent it. Her chest tightened again—waiting this time. The reply came faster than she expected. I'll come get you. Leah sat up. Too quickly. The room shifted slightly around her. She exhaled. This was— She didn't think it through. Didn't let herself. The pink hoodie with its loose colors hung looser than she remembered. Soft. Light. The edge sat just above her waist, the fabric brushing against her skin when she moved. She pulled it down once. Then let it fall back where it wanted. Her fingers hesitated in her hair. Then left it as it was. The braids still there. Still the same. She didn't look in the mirror again. The hallway was quiet. Darker now. Most doors closed. The house felt different at night. Less structured. But not safer. Leah moved carefully, each step measured without her thinking about it. The floor creaked once. She stopped. Listened. Nothing. Then kept going. The front door opened slower than it should have. She slipped outside, pulling it gently closed behind her. The air hit her immediately. Cooler. Cleaner. She exhaled. And for a moment— it felt easier to breathe. The car was already there. Parked a little away from the entrance. Not obvious. Just... waiting. Leah slowed slightly as she approached. It wasn't what she expected. Not loud. Not showy. Just... expensive in a quiet way. The kind you didn't notice unless you looked twice. The door unlocked before she reached it. She hesitated. Just for a second. Then opened it and slid inside. The car smelled faintly of leather and something clean. Not strong. Just there. Lukas didn't look at her right away. Just a small glance. Enough. "You made it out." Leah nodded. "Yeah." A pause. The engine hummed softly beneath them as he pulled away. No rush. No questions. The road stretched ahead, darker the further they moved from the lights. Leah leaned her head slightly back against the seat. The movement of the car was steady. Predictable. Nothing pressing. Nothing watching. They didn't speak much. Not at first. And it didn't feel like something that needed filling. The city lights faded behind them. The road narrowed. Curved. Climbing slightly. Until— he slowed. Turned. Pulled into a quiet space overlooking the city. The engine clicked softly as it settled. The world outside felt distant. The city stretched out below them. Lights scattered across the dark. Far enough away to not matter. Leah stepped out of the car. The air was colder here. She wrapped her arms lightly around herself. Lukas leaned against the car, looking out over the view. "I come up here sometimes," he said. Leah followed his gaze. "It's quiet." He nodded once. "Yeah." A pause. The kind that didn't feel empty. Just... still. Leah stepped closer. Not thinking about it. Just moving. Until she stood beside him. Close enough to feel the warmth from him against the colder air. She didn't look at him. Just out. At the lights. At how far away everything felt. Her shoulders lowered slightly. Without her noticing. Her breathing slowed. Something in her chest loosened. She didn't remember deciding. Only that she shifted— and leaned slightly into him. Careful. Testing. Lukas didn't move away. His arm came around her naturally. Resting. Not pulling. Just there. His hand moved slowly over her braids. Light. Steady. Leah's fingers found his hand. Held it. Not tight. Just enough. She closed her eyes for a second. It was easier here. She didn't have to think about anything. Didn't have to explain. Didn't have to be— anything. "We should go," Lukas said quietly. Leah opened her eyes. The moment didn't break. Just... shifted. She nodded. "Okay." The drive back was quieter. The lights returned slowly. Closer. Sharper. The house came into view sooner than she wanted. Lukas slowed. Stopped a little before the entrance. Leah looked at him. "You don't have to—" "I know." A pause. "I'm not making it harder for you." The words sat differently than she expected. Not controlling. Just... decided. Leah nodded. "Okay." She opened the door. The cold air met her again. Different this time. Less freeing. More... real. "Text me when you're inside," he said. Leah glanced back. "Okay." She closed the door. The car stayed there a second longer. Then pulled away. Leah turned back toward the house. The lights inside were dim. Still. Quiet. She moved toward the door. Slower now. Something in her chest tightening again. Not sharp. Just... there. The door opened. She stepped inside. Closed it behind her. The air shifted immediately. Heavier. Familiar. Wrong. Leah reached for the light. And turned it on. The light settled over the room slowly. Leah didn't move at first. Something in her chest tightened before she even understood why. The air felt... occupied. Not loud. Not obvious. Just—wrong. She took a small step forward. Then stopped. Someone was sitting on the bed. Still. The girl with the dark hair. Arms loosely crossed. One leg drawn slightly up. Like she had made herself comfortable. Waiting. Her eyes were already on Leah. Not surprised. Not curious. Just... there. Leah felt it immediately. That same pull in her chest. Stronger now. "You came back." The words were quiet. Flat. Not a question. Leah didn't answer. Her hand dropped slowly from the light switch. The room felt smaller again. "How was it?" A small pause. The girl tilted her head slightly. "Worth it?" Leah swallowed. "I just—" The girl didn't react. Didn't interrupt. Just watched her try. Leah's words faded before they fully formed. Silence filled the space instead. Heavy. Placed. The girl shifted slightly on the bed. Not closer. Just enough to make the movement noticeable. "You don't think things through, do you?" Her voice wasn't sharp. If anything— it was softer now. That made it worse. Leah's fingers curled slightly inward. "I didn't do anything wrong." The words felt thin the moment they left her. The girl's gaze dropped. Slowly. To the hoodie. The skirt. Her legs. Then back up. "No?" A small pause. "You left." Leah's chest tightened. "It was just for a little while." The girl tilted her head again. Studying her. "Timing isn't really the problem." Leah frowned. "Then what is?" The girl didn't answer right away. She let the silence sit. Then— "You don't seem to understand what happens after you break roles." Leah felt that. Not the words. The feeling behind them. Like something had already been decided. "You're making it sound worse than it is," Leah said, quieter now. The girl smiled. Just slightly. Not warm. Not kind. "Am I?" Leah didn't answer. Couldn't. Because something in the way she said it— felt certain. The girl leaned back slightly, resting her weight into her hands behind her. Relaxed. Too relaxed. Like this didn't concern her at all. "She doesn't like it when it's being ignored," she said. A small pause. "And she doesn't like being surprised." Leah's eyes flickered. Just once. Toward the door. The girl noticed. Of course she did. Another faint smile. "You felt that already, didn't you?" Leah's chest tightened again. Sharper this time. "I don't know what you mean." The girl's eyes held hers. Longer now. Too long. "Yes, you do." Silence. Leah's breathing shifted slightly. Shallower. The girl's gaze moved again. Slow. Deliberate. Across the room. The desk. The chair. Then— the bag. Still on the floor. Still closed. Leah felt it instantly. A drop in her stomach. The girl's eyes lingered there. Just a second too long. Then lifted again. "You really should have checked before you left." Leah's breath caught. "What?" The word came out too quickly. Too sharp. The girl tilted her head. Watching her. There it was. That reaction. That was what she had been waiting for. A faint smile returned. Smaller now. More precise. "Nothing," she said quietly. A pause. "Maybe she didn't see it." Leah didn't move. Her eyes stayed on the girl. But her thoughts— were somewhere else now. The bag. The zipper. The way it had felt. Her chest tightened again. "She might have," the girl added. Soft. Almost thoughtful. "Hard to miss things like that." Leah's fingers curled tighter. "I don't know what you're talking about." The girl didn't respond. Didn't need to. She had already seen enough. A shift in the hallway. Soft. Barely there. But enough. The girl's eyes flicked toward the door. Then back to Leah. A small breath left her nose. Almost like a quiet laugh. "Too late," she murmured. Leah didn't turn. She didn't need to. Her body already knew. "Close the door," Jeanette said as the dark hear girl walked out with a big smile. "You broke the first rule," Jeanette said. Her voice was calm. Too calm. Leah swallowed. "I just went out for a little—" "You left the house after hours." Not louder. Just... final. Leah's fingers tightened slightly at her sides. "I was with—" "No." The word stopped her. Clean. Immediate. Leah's mouth closed again. It didn't feel like she was allowed to finish. Jeanette took a step closer. "You don't get to explain it away." A pause. Her gaze didn't leave Leah. "Those rules are there for a reason." Another step. "They keep things in order." Leah's chest tightened. "I didn't do anything wrong," she said, quieter now. Jeanette tilted her head slightly. "Do you understand how unsafe that is?" Leah frowned. "I wasn't—" Jeanette didn't let her finish. "Going out alone. At that hour." A small pause. "For someone like you?" Leah felt it instantly. That shift. Smaller. "I wasn't alone," she tried again, softer. "I was with—" "Enough." Not raised. Not sharp. But it ended it. Leah's words fell away. "What if something had happened?" Jeanette continued quietly. Not accusing. Just... certain. Leah didn't answer. She didn't have one. Silence settled. Heavy. Placed. Then— Jeanette's gaze shifted. Down. To the bag. Leah felt it before she even followed it. Her breath caught. "Jeanette—" She didn't respond. She stepped past her. Calm. Certain. Bent down. Picked it up. Leah didn't move. Couldn't. Her mouth parted slightly. Nothing came out. Jeanette straightened. Holding it between them. Her eyes returned to Leah. Steady. Unmoving. "This," she said quietly, "is exactly why we have rules." The zipper moved. Slow. The sound cut through the room. Leah felt it in her chest. That same cold pull. Her shoulders drew in slightly. Smaller. Again. Jeanette's hand slipped inside. A quiet shift of fabric. Something familiar. Too familiar. Leah's breath caught. Jeanette pulled her hand back. She didn't look down. She looked at Leah. The bag slipped from her other hand. Fell softly to the floor. A pause. "You've spent a long time pretending this isn't part of you," Jeanette said. Leah shook her head slightly. "I don't—" "No." Jeanette stepped closer. Not fast. Just enough. "This is where that stops." Leah didn't move. Didn't speak. Her chest felt tight. Heavy. "You don't get to ignore rules," Jeanette continued quietly, "and you don't get to ignore this." A pause. "We're going to correct it." Leah's fingers curled slightly inward. She didn't argue. Not this time. "Turn around," Jeanette said. Leah hesitated. Just a second. Then turned. Slowly. Facing away. The room felt bigger like that. And at the same time— like there was nowhere to go. She felt Jeanette step closer behind her. Not touching yet. Just... there. Leah's shoulders tightened slightly. Waiting. Jeanette's hands moved to the edge of the hoodie. Calm. Certain. "You don't come in here like this." The fabric lifted. Leah's breath caught—just slightly. Her hands twitched. But she didn't stop her. Didn't speak. The hoodie slid free. Folded. Set aside. The air felt colder against her skin. Jeanette stepped away for a moment. Leah stayed still. Listening. The faint sound of fabric. Movement behind her. Then— "Arms." Leah hesitated. Then lifted them. The top slipped over her head. Soft. Light. Settling against her skin. Jeanette adjusted it slightly. Making it sit right. A small pause. "Turn around." Leah did. Slowly. Facing her. Jeanette's eyes met hers immediately. And stayed there. Unmoving. Leah felt it. In her chest. In her throat. That steady gaze. Calm. Certain. Unwavering. She tried to hold it. For a moment. Then something shifted. Smaller. Again. Jeanette's expression didn't change. "This is how you should be," she said quietly. A pause. "Not running around. Not making decisions you don't understand." Leah swallowed. Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides. "Do you understand?" Leah nodded. Small. Almost unnoticeable. Jeanette watched her a moment longer. Then— "Good." She stepped back. Just enough. The space returned. But it didn't feel the same. Leah stayed where she was. Still. Quiet. Not moving. Because something had shifted. And she felt it. Jeanette's gaze stayed on her. Unmoving. Measuring. "Take it off." Leah blinked. The words didn't land right away. "I—" Jeanette didn't repeat herself. She didn't need to. Leah's fingers moved slowly to the panties. Hesitating. Just for a second. Then she pulled it down her legs. The air felt colder again. She stood there. Not knowing where to look. Not knowing what she was supposed to do next. Jeanette didn't look away. Not once. She stepped closer. Then— lowered herself slightly. Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just enough to bring her eyes level with Leah's. "Look at me." Leah hesitated. Then did. Jeanette held her there. In that gaze. Calm. Certain. Unwavering. "This is what happens," she said quietly, "When you stop following rolls." A small pause. "You don't get to hide behind it anymore." Leah didn't answer. She couldn't. Because something in the way Jeanette looked at her— made it feel like she had already been seen. "Now step into it." The fabric shifted softly. A quiet rustling filled the room as Leah stepped into it and Jeanette pulled it into place. Slow. Controlled. Leah stood still. Her breath shallow. Not moving. Not helping. The material settled. Fit where it was meant to. Like it had been chosen for her. Jeanette straightened. Her eyes moved over Leah. Not quickly. Not uncertain. Just... assessing. A small pause. Then— "Now," she said quietly, "you can go to bed." No softness in it. No question. Just... permission. Or something close to it. Leah didn't answer. She just nodded Small. And turned. Jeanette exited the room quietly, with the door closing softly behind her. The resulting silence felt heavier and more oppressive. Leah settled herself slowly, pulling the blanket around her—almost too tightly—and lying still. Yet, inside her, something unsettled churned. Her chest felt simultaneously tighter and quieter. She gazed at the ceiling, not truly seeing it. The scene replayed in fragments—the way Jeanette had looked, her inability to speak, her stillness. Leah shifted slightly, a cautious movement, but the crinkling sound revealed itself. An unfamiliar presence lingered—not sharp, not distinct—just there. She pulled the blanket higher, hoping to erase it, but it didn't work. Closing her eyes, she found sleep unobtainable because something had shifted. She was in bed with a pull-up diaper— her deepest secret from her past—and she could feel it between her legs.

Hihi, i've been drawing a little, and thought this might be a good place to share :3

I've been listening to hypnosis for years, but nothing really happened other than willfully wetting. But recently i've been listening to some more effective files. I found out its more effective listening when i first wake up than at night. Finally today, my subconcious sphincter opened up, and I relaxed as well, and it gushed forth. through AI, I found the actual term for wetting due to hypnosis, called psychogenic incontinence. I was still able to hold the urine, but not the willpower to close it off. I had towel underneath. Amy and Bella have been a big help, and Diane Swebis. Another one called Bedwetting reprogramming and A Proper Child is what im working on now. the child one may have been todays trigger. My next milestone is probably wetting the bed, maybe while still awake and sleeping wet. Any other deep file suggestions would be helpful. I've been suggested bedwetting by miles after bedtime next. I also want to see if ill void without a towel on the chair. *I did have to put undies and pants into washer.

Hello everyone, I'm a Chinese ABDL, though I'm purely on the DL side with zero AB elements, so it's more like a fetish for me. I've loved wearing diapers ever since kindergarten, but my parents and family had no idea about this interest of mine (my mom recently found out, though). I'm currently 22 and in college, and I've been wearing diapers for over 15 years now. It's entirely out of personal interest rather than any medical reason. I guess you could call me a pretty seasoned everyday DL. If you have any questions about my daily life (nothing too sensitive, please) or about the ABDL scene in China, feel free to ask, and I'll do my best to answer. Actually, I made a similar post on ADISC about a year ago, but I hadn't finished reading the novel on there before ADISC shut down.

Today its pinsa with cheese, tomatoe sauce, chorizo and red bell pepper.

Hi Adam, I wanted to report back after wearing several of the white v2.1 samples that were sent to me. I am medically incontinent with OAB, and mixed incontinence. I am used to a MegaMax being reliable through several wettings. The new 2.1 still do not last as long as the china made original in that regard. I feel the v2.1 is much closer than 2.0 but it still needs tweaking. The leg guards and leg openings seem to be the issue still. While they are effective for containment in the back, they angle inward to about 45 degrees in the front and may fold over when being worn. Great care is needed when putting it on to get the leg guards to be in the right position. I have only had success with v2.1 when I make the lower tapes uncomfortably tight and even then I still do not have confidence yet that there will not be a leak. There are lots of positives with 2.1 though. There is more padding and it functions very well for odor retention and feeling dry after wetting. An additional observation is that v2.1 is noisier crinkle wise than the china made MegaMax. That is perhaps happy news for many in this forum, but something to be aware of for those like me who need to wear them all day no matter where I go. The NorthShore trifecta cover helps reduce the noise level though and I never leave home without one on. The trifecta cover ends up having to be a true safeguard with the 2.1 and I fear it will stay that way without more tweaks to the leg guard or leg openings. Adam feel free to DM me if you have follow up questions. I do want to help these to become the best option at a reasonable price.

Mini-Story: Sweat it Out You sit by yourself in the sauna, letting the heat wash over you. You take a deep breath and luxuriate in the steam by your lonesome. Just you, all by yourself, wrapped in a terry cloth robe, and no naked strangers sitting quietly and awkwardly beside you. You feel your joints relax and tension leaves muscles you forgot existed. It might not be real exercise, but it definitely feels good. You got lucky getting this free spa day all to yourself. No clue who sent you the gift certificate. Must have been a promotion to get new customers hooked. Kind of like how the local pizza place gives out free pies at the start of every football season. From the look of the place when you came in you’re the only one without a staff shirt on. The spa equipment looked pristine to the point of non-use. But it was only half past eleven when you came in. Where was everybody else? “Not to worry, dear,” the concierge (or whatever they’re called) said. “You’re just a little late. Nothing that can’t be fixed.” Ten minutes later and you were sweating it out in the privacy of your own private sauna. “Just relax and let the steam help you sweat out all the toxins in your body.” So you did. You don’t believe in ‘sweating out toxins’ and all that bullshit, (next thing you know they’ll be trying to get you to buy crystals and magic oils in the gift shop). Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel nice. You moan and purr to yourself as you stretch your arms all the way above your head and stand up high on your tippy toes. You breathe deeply and exhale your heart and lungs feeling reinvigorated by the steam. Your skin is glistening and just starting to drip. A few more minutes and you’re sure you’ll be ready to let your robe become puddled on the floor. Then you run your hands through your hair and pull out clumps. What?! You shake your wrists and fling the errant strands down to the floor like they’re something a cat vomited up. You run your fingers over your scalp again and pull out even more. What’s happening?! Why is your hair falling out? You walk as fast as you can without slipping to the door and pull as hard as you can. It doesn’t budge. And it’s getting hotter. You pull again with no success. You roll up your sleeves, dripping with sweat now and pull again. You might as well be yanking on a solid wall. You turn your head and find more hairs on your shoulder. You’re no longer pulling them out, but they’re falling out on their own; carried off of you by droplets of sweat. The steamy mist envelops you and you gasp at your dripping forearms. What hair you had is now at your feet, carried away by so much sweat. You scream for help, your heart pounding to hummingbird levels of stress. The sauna’s steam enters your lungs and you start choking on it. You cough and cough and feel your throat tightening up. For a second you think you might somehow drown. And when you can speak again, your voice sounds funny; higher than it should be. You keep calling and bagging on the door, but none of the attendants come for you. The window is too steamed up to see outside the sauna, but if there’s anyone on the other side of this door, they are actively ignoring you and your fear. The process continues. You keep sweating and things keep falling off of you. First it’s the hair. Then stretchmarks disappear. You rub at a scar you’ve had for so long it’s part of your self-image and it smudges and then disappears like it was a temporary tattoo. You start screaming when a skin tag painlessly breaks off and rolls down your body like it was a freshly picked booger. Your screaming turns into drooling whimpering when the bottom half of your robe starts to turn a sickly yellow from waist down.You wouldn’t have known you were peeing yourself otherwise. You just thought it was more sweat. The drooling whimpering becomes terrified screaming when your first tooth comes out. No blood or pain or anything. Just drool. Like they were made of candy corn and you finally got them unstuck. Then comes the second tooth. Then the third. Then fourth and fifth. Then the rest. The window looks taller. So does the bench you were originally lounging on. Your soiled robe seems bigger, too. Longer sleeves. Hem that touches the floor. You try to take it off, but your hands get caught in the sleeves and won’t stop shaking long enough to unknot the goddamn belt! You’re thirsty. Very thirsty. And despite all the heat and how you’re positively dripping all over yourself with sweat; it’s not water that your body is begging you for… You hear a hiss and the door to the sauna opens up. A rush of cool air bursts in, blowing the few remnants of your old body away like scattered leaves. In walks the lady at the front desk, the concierge that told you you were late. She’s holding a very large powder puff full of baby powder, a clean dry dowel, and a disposable baby diaper that you know will fit you perfectly. “There we are!” The concierge coos down at you. “We sweated all that toxic adulthood right out of you, didn’t we?” (Fin)

try using cloth training pants or even just cotton under ware over your disposable and covered with waterproof pants, if your disposable leaks the training pants or under ware will help prevent the leaks that could find their way out side your plastic pants.

Poor baby tess, peeing your pants at dinner isn't acting like big, so now shes going to be triggered to act little after all that big girl negotiation talk? Maybe she needs her pacifier to help balance out... 😅

She's still feeling frustrated because her partner isn't being completely honest with her; and he doesn't trust her judgement. Maybe she needs to calm down and think more. I'll admit, there are moments when she's refusing to acknowledge her feelings just because the actual investigation thread has too many clues to place, so her introspection needs to wait until a certain part of the investigation. It's tricky to balance at times. Glad someone's still reading. And if you're hoping for more babygirl scenes, it hopefully won't be too long to wait. 124. Dead Messages Isadora had given herself ten minutes to work on the two translations. Over the last couple of days she’d been staring at the piece of notepaper where she’d written them down a dozen times, but the words weren’t an important part of her investigation so she’d rarely spent more than a few minutes at a time poring over the dictionaries. Today she had intended to speak to Brock as soon as he got home, about both her plan and her recent deductions. Maybe focusing his attention on Geoffrey would help him to trust her again. But when she’d checked how far away he was, she had seen him turning into the driveway at the Glaze house. Maybe something to do with Committee business, or the golf handicap situation. But even if it was a flying visit, she didn’t want to be sitting at the kitchen table until her partner returned. That made it a perfect opportunity to have one more look at those translations. She would check his position again after ten minutes, and repeat until he was actually on the way home so that she would be ready for him. Opening dictionaries had to be better than sitting with her hands in her lap, everything on hold. The Latin one was almost there. It had been easy to remember what it said, even if she didn’t know all of the words. She’d looked them up, and she knew they all now. It was the grammar that had been the problem rather than the vocabulary. The middle section that had kept nagging at her. The feeling she'd had on the walk home, that this was a piece of shorthand for something, a translation of something that existed first in another language, just wouldn’t go away. She had gone to bed last night with it unresolved and woken up with it still sitting at the back of her mind, patient and waiting. “I will motivate you from behind,” she whispered. It sounded so natural in English, and every word was in its place. But the grammar didn’t fit; she was sure the quote should have said ‘tergo’ rather than ‘posticum’, which could mean that it had been translated from English by somebody with a dictionary but no real mastery of the language. Surely in that sentence ‘behind’ should be an adjective, not a noun. The Arabic text was harder. She barely knew the language, so writing it down when she got home had been more like drawing a picture of the inscription in her mind’s eye, and she had much less confidence that she even had the original right. Field Arabic had always been her weakest language; functional, built around specific vocabulary, not the kind of background that made dictionary work comfortable. She leafed through her dictionary, trying to find anything that matched what she had for the one word she didn’t have a meaning for. She was sure it was talking about the relationship between power and… energy? Influence? Knowledge? Wisdom? She’d looked up just about everything she could think of that might fit there, and none of the words were remotely like the ‘انرداد’ on her note. “With great power comes great recoil,” Brock’s voice held the faintest trace of a laugh, and Isadora’s head jerked around. She hadn’t even heard him enter the nursery, she’d been so caught up in her research. “Recoil?” she said, glancing down at the word. “Your handwriting’s a little shaky,” he said. “But that’s what it looks like to me. Movie quotes?” “I thought it would be something more personal,” Isadora answered, but then she thought again. She really had no idea. “That’s Spider-man isn’t it? But a similar sentiment could have come from a dozen different places.” “That’s how it was subtitled,” Brock said, not giving any clue about how he knew that. “At least if you watched the latest set of movies in Morocco. Where does this come from?” And then his eyes danced over to the other piece of paper, on which Isadora had written out the Latin inscription from the smaller gun as well as she could remember it. She hesitated for a second, and then pulled it out from under the other papers that partially covered it, giving him a clear chance to read what she had written. “Church Latin,” he said, thoughtfully. “Not one of my best languages. But I’d guess that says ‘I’ll always motivate you from behind’.” “Right,” Isadora said, glad there was something she could actually contribute. “But the word they use for ‘behind’ is ‘posticum’. Normally it would be ‘a tergo’, and the grammatical structure isn’t right for inserting a noun there. It feels like someone used a dictionary to translate it.” “Or it’s a deliberate reference,” Brock gave a half shrug, pulling up the chair from the corner and turning it around so he could rest his arms and chin on the back of the chair. “There was a Japanese movie, several years ago now. Shiroyamanomusuko. The line should have been translated as something like ‘I will always be at your back, to offer motivation’, but the first English-language trailers said ‘I’ll always motivate you from behind’ while the French ones translated the same line as ‘Je motiverai toujours ton derrière’, roughly meaning ‘I will motivate your behind’, choosing the wrong sense for that specific word. Quite a number of multilingual fans sent death threats to the translation agency involved, and some political connections meant the Agency was involved in making sure none of them were serious. It was also a running joke amongst some linguistics communities online, where your quote ‘Te a posticum semper animabo’ could have been seen as an in-joke. So, are you decoding decade-old Internet humour now?” “These inscriptions were on a pair of guns,” Isadora answered, and immediately regretted it as she saw Brock’s expression change. But she had to continue now, if only to discern why that revelation bothered him: “Lorenzo has a collection of guns. Everyone knows that. But he told you…” “You shouldn’t worry about the guns,” Brock said, his voice a little sterner now. “It’s not out of the ordinary for a rich person to have an unusual collection, and I don’t believe it has anything to do with his criminal activities.” Isadora forced herself to hesitate before arguing about whether the crimes were real. She still didn’t want to believe it, but she knew she didn’t have any evidence worthy of sharing with Brock. More importantly, she should talk to him about what she was sure of now. She needed to show her partner that she could deduce something, and that her investigative skills were worth something. Maybe she could contribute something, even if it was only a small part of the investigation, and start to build trust between her and her partner. Or maybe she could show him that she was willing to investigate Lorenzo’s household even if she didn’t really believe in his guilt. To show that she was willing to overlook her instincts for the sake of the job. “The butler did it,” she said. “It’s a stereotype, but it’s true. We haven’t looked into Geoffrey Turner’s role in the family, we just dismissed him as a domestic–” “You don’t need to interrogate Turner,” Brock said, with a certainty that shocked Isadora into silence for a few seconds. But he didn’t say anything else, leaving it to her to pick up the conversation again. “What?” It was the only word that came to mind. “Geoffrey Turner isn’t a part of the Arrencani crime family,” he said like it was a known fact. No doubt, and no space that Isadora could wedge a question into. “Less than a month before the equinox now, we need to be focusing on the big fish.” “You mean Lorenzo?” Isadora asked, and her heart sank when Brock nodded. Of course he would be at the heart of the investigation; but she didn’t want to face the reality that such a kind and caring daddy figure could be a villain. She was sure that investigating Geoffrey would have been easier for her; the guns were proof enough that his role was much bigger than they had assumed. But she also knew she could look into that by herself. “Well then, we need to get into the house again. Explore the parts we still haven’t seen, or ask the questions that would tell us more about his motivations. Any chink in the armour.” “It won’t be easy,” Brock said. “I’ve been trying to trace the cars. I haven’t managed to follow them beyond the car wash yet. They go to the same place to get swept for trackers, but if they saw me there I’m sure they would stop and turn around.” “So focus on the man, rather than the business. We never actually finished watching that movie, did we? Would he invite us to finish watching it, or was that only a ruse to drug me?” “You think there’s still something to find in the house?” he asked. Isadora summoned all her self-control and nodded, trying not to show anything in her eyes about her real plan. “There is,” she said. “We should ask to watch more of Alessia’s movies. That’s the way in, the way to get Lorenzo to open up. I’m sure of it.” “I think he only shows what he wants you to see,” Brock said, giving just a little shake of his head. “But I’ll ask him. He’ll say no, though. With the big deal so close, Chen getting ready for a major attack, Arrencani won’t have any time for socialising outside his regular routine.” “So if he’a happy to invite us, would that mean he’s not as deeply involved as you thought?” Isadora said, and she couldn’t resist a smile this time. She wanted to see Brock’s expression when Lorenzo was eager to let them visit; but she was sure it would happen when she wasn’t there. “It’s possible there is another option I’m missing,” Brock said slowly. “But this isn’t something that will change just by positive thinking. I know you don’t want Arrencani to be guilty, but our job requires us to live in the real world. And if he says he’s too busy this week, that will just be one more confirmation that he’s involved with the ULF.” “You’ll ask him, though?” “I will. I’ll promise you that. But don’t get your hopes up too much, because there is no chance the man will say ‘yes’. I need you to be ready for that, and to accept it when it happens.” He left the nursery then. Probably going to the kitchen to prepare something amazing for dinner. Isadora found herself looking forward to it already; even as she let her resentment build over the way Brock always assumed she was wrong. She didn’t turn back to the inscriptions from those guns. She knew what they said now; she could confirm easily that Brock’s translation was correct. But why was he so opposed to letting her investigate Geoffrey? That didn’t make any sense at all. Her attempt at extending an olive branch to her partner had failed, so now she would have to get more information to support her conclusions before she tried sharing them again. Thankfully, she was already thinking of a perfect way to do that. * * * The next day, Brock was at home dealing with something on the laptop. Isadora felt that she could have gone to speak to Geoffrey, but she was sure Brock would have asked where she was going. And his refusal to investigate had been so certain that she didn’t think he would have just let her go. So another day passed before she was walking down the road towards the Arrencani house. Brock was up at the Yaxley club again, probably chatting to his friends in preparation for the almost-regular poker game which would be back at Victor’s house this evening. It meant he was too busy to look over her shoulder, in any case. And gave him a perfect opportunity to get Lorenzo’s agreement for another movie night in the screening room, which she was nervously looking forward to. Her attention drifted to the different scents floating over the neighbourhood from nearby villages, and the way the shadows were getting longer even quite early in the afternoon. Anything to avoid speculating about why her partner might have been so assertive; or how she would react if she found that Lorenzo really was involved with the criminal underworld in some way. It didn’t even seem possible, but she couldn’t find any rational reason to rule it out. Eventually, she reached the door of the big house, and rang the bell. A few seconds passed before Geoffrey opened the door, giving no sign of being out of breath, and greeted her with a half bow. “Ah, Mrs Klein,” he said, offering a half smile. “I’m afraid that Mr Arrencani is at the Yaxley Club today. But if you wish to leave a message for him, I would be happy to let him know you were here on his return.” “Actually, Geoffrey,” she said, and then found all of her anxieties concentrated in this one moment. All of her field training, and she was finally following up a clue on her own. If she was right, this could turn into her first real experience of solo detective work. “Actually, it was you I wanted to talk to. If that’s alright?”

Hi and welcome, this is a cool place. I love Germany, it's where my wearing of nappies really took off, but that's a story for another day.

Leaky faucet doesn't describle my situation. It's more like the handle was removed and the internal valve was shredded.

Those reserve leaks are real. I sometimes get pretty big leaks right in the middle of a diaper change. I've learned I have to take the old diaper off and lay it open on the floor. This way it will catch any dribbles or streams wjile I'm trying to position the new one in place.

I hope Ffrances and Gabby can show Tess a loving caring environment while she is little so she feels more comfortable with being little instead of worrying about being bullied.

But I have no 3D printer and shakey hands Heres a really cute one based on a photo of AllyCakes

Adorable cover! I miss physical magazines lol

Here's part two of the story. I hope you like it. 😠😠🤔 While Bulma and Chi-Chi were moodily sitting in their infantile prison, Videl was walking around Capsule Corp in her gray pants, skirt, and jacket and yellow t-shirt with her long black hair done up in a ponytail, and her blue eyes looking around for any sign of Bulma and Chi-Chi. It had been two months since anybody had seen them. She had talked to Dr. Briefs and his wife about it, but they seemed unbothered since Bulma had been working in her lab for long stretches at a time since Goku left with Shenron after the fight with the Shadow Dragons. Videl knew that already, but Chi-Chi disappearing too still struck her as odd. She knew her mother-in-law well enough to know that it wasn't like her to disappear for long stretches at a time. Something was going on, and she planned to find out what it was. Thankfully, Dr. Briefs had enough sense to tell Videl that Bulma had spent most of her time in a lab she had built for special experiments. Videl arrived at the location and found a wall in the middle of Bulma's lab. The lab itself was untouched, adding to Videl's worries that something was wrong. She saw that the wall had two revolving doors in the center of the wall and a computer console next to it. Videl went to check the console, but it was password protected, and Videl was unable to guess what it was. Deciding to check it out herself, Videl went towards the revolving door. Even if something was wrong, she was confident that if she kept her guard up, she could easily find Bulma and Chi-Chi and figure out what was going on. Videl entered the revolving door and instantly realized that she was walking on a treadmill. What was worse was that in only a few seconds, she was in complete darkness with no option but to keep walking on the treadmill. Suddenly, she felt her jacket get pulled off along with her skirt and pants. Videl then sneezed as she felt talcum powder fall on top of her. While Videl was processing that, she felt a large cloth get wrapped around her pelvis while she heard the sound of safety pins and shivered at thin cold metal brushing up against her skin. Videl also felt something get tied onto her head before she finally saw light. She found herself in a large area with tan walls and tiled floors, like a museum. Videl glanced at a mirror and looked at herself in shock. Aside from her t-shirt, the only thing she was wearing was a giant cloth diaper that was secured by a giant safety pin like out of the cartoons, and she had a green baby bonnet tied onto her head. She looked like the January model for a pinup calendar. It was at this moment that she guessed what happened. Bulma invited Chi-Chi to test out some new inventions of hers that cared for children, and something had gone wrong. "Oh, this is just ridiculous." Videl said about the idea that two grown women could be held captive by machines. Videl walked forward, ready to lay into Bulma and Chi-Chi as if they were Pan and Bulla. However, what she didn't know was that the powder used on her was the special powder Bulma invented for testing the child care products, meaning everything Videl was about to come across would register her as a baby. To be continued...

An extreme way to be incontinent, but I asked AI, and double checked the result. Urinary incontinence is a common and usually temporary side effect of prostate removal (prostatectomy). Most men regain bladder control within 3 to 12 months. But I agree with TS, I wouldn't try to get back control.

I've written four chapters of a story about two unpottytrained women who fall in love while learning to use the toilet. I wanted to draw Ash, one of the main women, she's 27, she's in a punk band and she's confident in her opinions

I'm trying to recall the moment when I realized that being in diapers as a kid wasn't that common. I was a prolific bedwetter and my parents, mom specifically, didn't see diapers as the stigma they were back in the 70's. I guess it was the height of family shame if you had a kid in diapers past 2 back in them days. I just thought it was normal. It wasn't until kindergarten perhaps when I found out that wearing diapers for bedwetting at that age was taboo. Now I do recall quite fondly the day I found adult diapers in my local pharmacy. I was maybe 12 or 13 and I was in there buying who knows what. I just happened to pass by the incontinence aisle and there was a glorious bag of Attends 'Briefs'. It was as if the clouds parted and a ray of sunshine bathed those diapers in a heavenly glow. From then on I knew what to look for and what to order out of the Sears catalog. Attends had a scent to them back in the day and I can still recall that quite fondly too.

I’ve been with my wife for 20 years. We met when we were 15 years old. We grew up together, became adults together, got married at 24, and now we’ve been married for 11 years. She has seen every version of me: awkward teenager, stressed engineering student, young professional, husband… all of it. And through all those years, there has always been one constant in my life: diapers. I’ve been ABDL for as long as I can remember. When we first started dating as teenagers, she did not understand it at all. Honestly, how could she? We were kids. To her, it was strange, confusing, maybe even scary. Back then, the idea of diapers being part of our relationship felt impossible. But she loved me. And over the years, something slowly changed. Not overnight. Not dramatically. It evolved little by little, over literally decades. At first, it became tolerance. Then acceptance. Then understanding. She slowly became more comfortable with me wearing around the house. Then sleeping padded. Then longer periods. Eventually, there was a period of almost 5 years where I was practically 24/7. But even then, she always stayed “outside” of it. She tolerated it lovingly, but she never really participated. Maybe once in a blue moon she would give me a playful spank over my diaper and laugh, but that was basically the limit. The diapers were my world, not ours. And honestly, I had made peace with that. I told myself many times: “The fact that she accepts me at all is already a huge act of love.” So I stopped expecting more. Then, a few days ago, we had one of the worst fights we’ve had in years. The kind of fight that starts over something stupid, but somehow keeps escalating because both people are hurt, exhausted, defensive, and emotionally worn down. It lasted almost 3 days. We even ended up going to couples therapy. By then, the fight itself was technically over, but emotionally, there was still distance between us. We had entered that strange phase where both people clearly want to reconnect, but neither quite knows how to fully close the emotional gap yet. Two days passed like that. A tense peace. Wanting closeness, but still carrying emotional bruises. Then one evening, when we arrived home, she looked at me and said: “Wait downstairs in the living room. Don’t come up until I call you. I prepared something very special for you.” She went upstairs to our bedroom. And suddenly my heart started racing. I sat there alone in the living room thinking: “Is she actually going to put on a diaper and make love to me?” And immediately after that thought came another one: “No. That’s impossible.” Because after 20 years together, I had learned not to expect that level of participation from her. Acceptance? Yes. Love? Absolutely. But this? No way. So I convinced myself it was probably just lingerie. But even then, I was nervous. When she finally called me upstairs, I could genuinely feel my hands shaking a little. I opened the bedroom door. And there she was. Beautiful lingerie. And underneath… a diaper. For a few seconds, my brain completely stopped working. Not because of the diaper itself, but because after two decades together, she had voluntarily stepped into the most vulnerable and intimate part of my inner world. I think something inside me emotionally just exploded in that moment. I didn’t even take my shoes off before throwing myself onto the bed to hold her. What followed was probably the most intimate night of our entire relationship. Not only physically, but emotionally. I wasn’t just enjoying the diaper. I was enjoying her. Her body, her acceptance, her love, her complicity, the feeling that after 20 years together she was finally fully meeting me in this hidden place inside my heart. And honestly, I have never felt more loved in my entire life. At the end of the night, she told me something I will probably remember forever. She said it was the best sex of her life too. But what she loved the most was seeing how happy I was. Then she told me she wants to incorporate this into our relationship sometimes. Not constantly, not as an everyday thing, but reserved for special moments between us. And honestly? That makes me unbelievably happy. I think I am an incredibly lucky ABDL. Because I truly believe most of us dream about a moment like this. Not because of the fetish itself, and not even because of the sex. But because of the connection, the acceptance, the intimacy, and the feeling that the person you love does not simply “tolerate” this part of you, but chooses, even briefly, to step into it with you. Unfortunately, many ABDLs never tell their partners at all. And among those who do, many only ever receive tolerance at best. But I think love can evolve slowly. Painfully slowly sometimes. In my case, it took two decades. But maybe with honesty, patience, vulnerability, kindness, and a LOT of patience, moments like this can eventually happen. And when they do, they are worth the wait.

Yep. Always worn nappies. I'm 46 now. Teens was hard as the high school bullies loved to prey on the vulnerable about anything. I was called allsorts of names constantly. Luckily I met my now wife at 21 and the first time I stayed at her house I had to confess. She was really cool about it. We moved into together relatively quickly and she now puts my nappies and she actively participates in the kink side of this as a mummy/domme.

It's been many years since I've wet my bed, hence now that I wear adult diapers at night, I say sitting in my wet overnight Depend diaper.

And PTD just dropped another not-so-subtle hint at something coming!

A wet pillow is a sign of a full bladder bedwetting. I now have a vinyl covered pillow and just put a regular cloth pillowcase over it. When I wake up with a wet diaper I often just take it off and fall back to sleep. Whatever happens after that just happens.

Chapter 10: Just Between Us At first, I was relieved. I wasn’t a baby anymore. I’d finally be treated like a real adult, and I wouldn’t have to ask my mom’s permission for every little thing. This was the first time I ever had that much independence, and in theory, it’s what I’d always wanted. But the reality hit almost immediately: I was completely on my own. It wasn’t like New York, where I could catch a bus on the corner. The nearest stop was a mile away, and the bus only came every forty minutes. It didn’t feel like my parents would help me find a job, and I didn’t think I could find one on my own. Even if I did, what if they wanted to interview me in person? How was I supposed to get there? What was I supposed to do about food? Uber wasn’t an option, and I couldn’t exactly walk to the store. My mom hadn’t just stepped back; she’d left me stranded with no real way to get anywhere. As much as I hated that stupid car seat, it was still the only practical way for me to get anywhere. I didn’t have any idea what I was supposed to do. Mom made it clear that she wasn’t going to feed me anymore, and that scared me more than anything. I had a meal plan in college. My mom wasn’t going to let me move to New York unless we found a place that included meals. At home, she had always handled all of it. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner just showed up. I never had to think about where any of it came from, or how it ended up in front of me. I’d never cooked. I only knew how to put stuff in the microwave. I never had to buy groceries. I bought snacks, but that was mostly junk food. I didn’t really know what I needed. I’d never used Instacart, and I didn’t even realize grocery stores delivered. On paper, New York should have prepared me for this. I lived alone, held down a job, paid rent, and made it through six years without my mother in the next room. But my life there only worked because everything important was already set up for me. It wasn’t really a life; it was survival. Dartmouth fed me. The boarding house fed me. Public transit took me where I needed to go. Work gave me structure, and once I learned the route, I just repeated it. I didn’t build a life from scratch; I survived inside one that had already been built for me. What my mother expected now was something completely different. She expected me to know how to run a household, buy food, plan ahead, solve problems, and do it all without asking for help. New York taught me how to endure isolation and routine. It didn’t teach me how to be the adult she suddenly expected me to be. My parents’ house was big, but it never felt open. Our rooms were upstairs, along with the nursery, the playroom, and my mom’s office. We were never allowed inside my parents room. The door was always closed, and to this day, I still don’t know what it looks like. My mom’s office sat right next to the nursery and playroom, so it always felt like she was just outside the door. For most of my childhood, Chris had his own room. I have a vague memory of him being in the nursery, but I was very young. Charlotte and I each had our own crib in the nursery until she was seventeen. Then Mom converted the playroom into Charlotte’s room. When I got out of diapers, Chris was still living at home, so I had to stay in the nursery. Mom removed the rails, but that was the only thing that changed. It was still a crib, in a room meant for a baby. A few months later, Chris moved out, and I moved into his room. I slept there, kept my things there, and lived there, but to my mom, it was never really my room; it was still Chris’s room. After I moved out of the nursery, she restored it to what it had been, like she planned on using it again. We may have slept upstairs, but we lived downstairs. That’s where the kitchen was, where the TV was, and where we spent most of our time. Off to the side was a part of the house we never went into. My dad’s den was over there, along with the guest room. Since the den was off-limits and the guest room wasn’t for us, we were never allowed in that part of the house. To be honest, it felt awkward breaking through that barrier. I didn’t understand why she put me in the guest room. Going back to my old room would have made more sense. That’s where I slept, and where most of my stuff was. But in my mom’s mind, it was still Chris’s room, and one day he’d come back. That was never going to happen. She’d chased him off years ago, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. When I finally stepped into the guest room, it felt strange. I wasn’t supposed to be in that part of the house, and now that’s where I lived? In a lot of ways, the room was nice, but it felt like a hotel room. The queen-sized bed took up most of the space. There was a small desk, a TV, and closets hidden behind sliding doors. A window looked out over the backyard, and there was even an ensuite bathroom. It was the first time I had ever had a bathroom to myself. But that part of the house felt cut off from everything else. Dad was the only one ever there, and he stayed shut away in his den. At first, the distance felt like relief. I was finally free from my mother’s control. But the longer I stood there, the more that feeling changed. This wasn’t freedom, it was exile. I was in an abandoned corner of the house with no one to help me. I tried to make the room feel like mine, but it didn’t. Nothing about it did. A few minutes later, my mother came in, dropped the box I’d shipped from New York at my feet, and left it there like a delivery. She didn’t ask any questions or offer any advice. She just said, “Here’s the stuff you brought from New York. Bring down anything you left in Chris’s room. I’m throwing out whatever is still there.” I didn’t know what to make of my mother’s new approach. A few hours earlier, I was still her baby. The constant nurturing and attention might have seemed loving, if I were a baby. Since I wasn’t, it felt sinister. But the second she agreed to treat me like an adult, all of that disappeared. I wasn’t her child anymore; I was just someone she had to deal with. What scared me most was that my mother didn’t take half measures. In our family, diapers meant we were babies. That was the rule. The second we were back in them, she treated us like babies and did everything for us, right down to the smallest detail. Then, the moment she decided we were ready, all of that stopped. From that point on, she expected total competence. No help. No patience. No allowance for failure. That was the rule. If we didn’t do it right, immediately and without complaint, we failed. This was just the next version. She gave me what I wanted, but without her structure, and I was terrified! I wanted freedom, but I didn’t want to be dropped without any help. It felt like she would watch me fail and never lift a finger. For as long as I can remember, I wanted my mother to be like everyone else: a normal mom who let her children grow up. But she was never like that. Even after I stopped wearing diapers, she never stopped being my mom. In college, she called almost every day. When she visited in New York, she always walked me back to my boarding house before returning to her hotel. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she always gave the same answer: “The world is never going to see you as an adult, so I have to make sure you get home safely.” That was what made this feel so wrong. However twisted her version of love, it was still the only kind of mothering I knew. This was the first time she had ever stopped mothering me, and she had done it all at once. The woman standing in front of me was still my mom, but I hardly recognized her. Then I realized I was still wearing the diaper Rachel put on me. I went through my bag for underwear, but it wasn’t there. Without thinking, I called out, “Mom, what happened to my underwear?” Mom answered, already annoyed. “What?” “Where’s my underwear?” “Why are you asking me?” I replied, “There were some in my bag, but they’re gone.” “Those? They were rags. I threw them out.” I looked at her. “What am I supposed to do?” She shrugged. “Figure it out yourself.” After that, I was furious, but mostly at myself. I had barely started, and I was already failing. I was still in the diaper, and it was wet enough that my mother might have changed it if she had bothered to check. I asked myself why I hadn’t used the bathroom. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was habit. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t ignore what it suggested: I wasn’t even potty trained. That doubt left me frozen. If I put on underwear, I could tell myself that I was trying to be an adult. But I was scared I’d have an accident, and maybe Mom would seize on that as proof I was never ready for any of this. On the other hand, wearing protection felt like I was giving up before I even started. This was the first time I had ever gone straight from diapers to underwear without being potty trained again. Every other time, Mom made me start over, like it was my very first time. She sat me on a little potty chair and watched while I did it. I got a star when I did it right, and when I earned enough stars, I could wear Pull-ups. If I stayed dry in my Pull-ups, I got to wear underwear. Now, it didn’t seem to matter whether I was wet, or dry. I was completely on my own. In the end, I chose the safer option. I hated what it implied, but I told myself it was only temporary, just a precaution until I got used to using the toilet again. I ordered some underwear from Amazon and, after a moment’s hesitation, another package of Pull-ups, just in case. My next immediate issue was food. I didn’t have any food, and even if I did, I didn’t know how to cook. Ordering a pizza was the obvious choice, and on paper, probably the right one. But it still felt like one more way I was failing. When I got overwhelmed, I always went for the easy option. So, I ordered a pizza. It wasn’t as good as what I got in New York, but even bad pizza is good. I also ordered a two-liter bottle of Coke. There was an NFL playoff game on that night, and for a second, this didn’t feel so bad. With pizza, Coke, and a game on TV, I was set for the evening. But even that thought made me feel childish. Those weren’t adult decisions; they were the choices a kid would make if no one was watching. I could watch the game without worrying about my mom’s reaction, drink as much soda as I wanted, and stay up as late as I could. When the pizza came, I carried it into the kitchen to get a plate and a glass for my Coke. Mom looked up and snapped, “What are you doing?” “I need a glass for my Coke.” She sighed. “I suppose that’s fine, but you really should get your own dishes. Just clean up after you’re done.” My dad got home midway through the game and disappeared into his den to watch it. Normally, none of us went in there unless he called for us. We weren’t even supposed to ask. I stood there for a second, wondering if that rule still applied. Everything else had changed so fast that it was hard to tell what still applied and what didn’t. Finally, I made myself speak. “Dad, can I watch the game with you?” He mumbled, “Why not.” I sat with him through the rest of the game, holding onto this stupid little hope that maybe, now that we were alone, he’d finally say something about what was happening. I didn’t need him to fix it. I just wanted him to acknowledge it. Maybe ask if I needed anything. But he never did. We only talked about football. I called Charlotte after the game ended, because I didn’t know what else to do. I was overwhelmed and desperately wanted to talk to someone. Her face appeared on the screen a second later, already surprised. “Reggie?” “Yeah.” “Wait, how? I thought Mom had your phone. Why are you still up? I thought you had an early bedtime.” I hesitated. I didn’t know how much to tell her, but she was probably the only person who’d understand. I stumbled over the words, trying to figure out how to explain it. “Mom put me back in the nursery, but we went to Dr. Olson today.” “You did? Why?” I looked away from the screen. “Mom said she wanted to find out what was wrong with me.” I swallowed. “She told Dr. Olson I’d regressed so much she had to put me back in diapers.” I paused. “Which isn’t fair. Mom didn’t even give me a chance.” Charlotte’s face tightened, but she didn’t interrupt. That’s the nice thing about FaceTime—I could tell she understood without saying anything. After a second, she asked, “What happened?” “Well, Dr. Olson told Mom to stop treating me like a baby. She said I’m never going to grow up if Mom keeps doing this.” Charlotte looked genuinely surprised. As far as either of us knew, Dr. Olson and Mom had always been on the same side. She asked, “She did? I never thought Dr. Olson would go against Mom.” “Me too.” Charlotte looked stunned. “Wait—did she actually say you were an adult?” I shrugged. “Not really. She said losing my job and coming back home messed me up, and that Mom needed to back off and let me be more independent. She made it sound like I did this on purpose.” Charlotte gave a small, knowing nod, but she didn’t say anything. For a second, I had the uneasy feeling she thought Dr. Olson might be right, but neither of us said it. Then she asked, “So how did Mom take it?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. It was weird. One second she was being Mom, and the next she just... wasn’t.” Nobody bore the brunt of Mom’s sudden changes more than Charlotte. She nodded. “That’s what Mom always does. Whenever I got out of diapers, she went psycho on me. It was like the second I wasn’t a baby anymore—she expected me to be perfect.” I shook my head. “No, this is different. Mom’s ignoring me. She’s barely said two words to me since I got home.” Charlotte hesitated. For a second, she looked like she wanted to believe me, but something in her face said she didn’t. Then she asked, “Really? Did Mom make you sit in the car seat?” I blushed. “Yeah, but she said the car doesn’t know how old I am.” Charlotte nodded, like that answer told her everything she needed to know. “Sounds like Mom to me.” I shook my head. “No, it’s more than that. She’s treating me like a tenant, and she wants me to pay rent.” “Seriously? That’s what I wanted when I moved back, but she wouldn’t take my money. I hoped she’d treat me like an adult, but she didn’t.” I let out a short laugh, but there wasn’t anything funny about it. I said, “She won’t even cook for me. I have to cook for myself.” “What? Do you know how to cook?” “No.” Her expression tightened. “But Mom loves feeding people!” I replied, “I know. That’s not the worst part. I have to get my own groceries.” Charlotte frowned. “Well… yeah. Adults get their own groceries.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not it. She won’t take me to the store.” Charlotte gasped. “What?” “She says I have to figure it out myself.” “Reggie, you don’t drive. How are you supposed to get food?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t even take an Uber.” “Why not?” “Drivers won’t take me. They think I need to be with an adult.” Charlotte stared at me for a second. She hadn’t thought about that, but most people don’t until I tell them. Then she nodded. “I guess you’ll have to do Amazon or Instacart.” I honestly didn’t know they did that. “They deliver groceries?” Charlotte’s face went blank. “What do you mean? Of course they do.” I think that was the first time she realized how little I actually knew about taking care of myself. I couldn’t hide it after that. “I’ve never bought groceries.” “Are you serious?” “Yeah. I’ve never needed to. I’ve always had meal plans, so I only went to the store to buy snacks. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to get.” Charlotte leaned into the screen. “Reggie! Mom’s setting you up to fail. I can’t take you to the store tomorrow, but I can take you Wednesday. Until then, order enough to get you through one day. Get some frozen meals and cereal—just the easy stuff. Then on Wednesday, I’ll help you get what you actually need.” She paused, then said more quietly, “And Reggie, even if it doesn’t seem like it, trust me, Mom is watching. Don’t make it easy for her.” I heard what Charlotte was saying, but it didn’t feel true. Mom hadn’t just stopped treating me like a child; she was completely ignoring me. And I didn’t think Charlotte fully understood what it was like for me. We’d both spent years in the nursery, but it wasn’t the same. Charlotte didn’t spend as much time in diapers during the day, and as far as I knew, she hadn’t worn them in over ten years. As overbearing as Mom could be, I would’ve taken that over being completely abandoned. I gritted my teeth, but I didn’t say anything. Charlotte looked at me and asked, “Okay, so tell me what happened?” I looked down and said, “She put me in diapers and treated me like a baby.” Charlotte gave me a look. “Reggie, I know that part. I want to know what she actually did.” I hesitated. Deep down, I knew she was right, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I mumbled, “It’s embarrassing.” Charlotte held my gaze. “Reggie, I know it’s embarrassing, but you can’t keep this to yourself. I’m the only person who really knows what this is like, and I should’ve told you what Mom did to me.” That threw me. Even though we were close, we had never talked about any of this. To be honest, I didn’t really know what it was like for her either. She was still in the nursery, still wearing diapers, when she was seventeen. I was only eleven, and I knew I was too old for them. But that was all I really knew about her experience, and I thought that was what she meant. I still didn’t think she understood what it was like for me. I sighed. “Okay, I’ll give you the highlights.” I told her about the playpen, Mom making me do tummy time, and then having Stacy come over to babysit. Charlotte looked startled. “Stacy? Isn’t she in high school?” I shook my head. “No, not anymore. She goes to UC Santa Barbara.” Charlotte nodded slowly. “Wow! Good for her. I still think of her as a kid.” She then added, almost as if she was talking to herself, “It’s weird having a babysitter that’s younger than you.” For a little while, Saturday actually felt better. I said, “Mom even let me stay up late to watch the end of the football game,” as if that was supposed to prove something. Charlotte looked at me. “What happened last night? We came over, but Mom said you were tired and had gone to bed.” I looked back at the screen. “Did she say bed?” “No, but I know you don’t like hearing about your nursery and crib. So, what happened?” “I was watching the Niner game, and the Eagles took the lead. I got mad and threw my pacifier.” I blushed. “I thought they were going to lose.” Charlotte shrugged. “Didn’t they win?” I nodded. “Yeah, but I thought they were done. I didn’t find out they won until tonight’s game.” I paused. “Anyway, Mom said I was overstimulated. She took me into the nursery and wrapped me in a blanket so tight that I couldn’t move my arms or legs.” Charlotte’s face changed. “She did that to you?” She shook her head. “I hated it when she did that to me.” I was confused. “Wait. Mom did that to you too? When did that happen?” Charlotte looked away. For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, very quietly, “It was during Covid. Right after things opened up.” I asked, “What happened?” Charlotte’s mouth tightened. “I mean... it’s kinda my fault.” She didn’t look at me when she said it. Mom had this way of making us feel like whatever happened was always our fault. I didn’t want her to shut down, but just like when she asked me, I wanted to know what really happened. I replied, “I knew about the bedtime, and some of the other stuff, but I didn’t know she did… that to you.” Charlotte let out a breath. “At first, Mom was good. I told her I wasn’t moving back unless she treated me like an adult. I wanted to pay rent, but she wouldn’t take my money. And for a little while, it almost felt normal. Then she started picking at everything. Little stuff at first. Then more and more. Before I knew it, she was just... Mom again.” She took another breath. “Once things opened up, I wanted to go out with friends. Mom didn’t think it was safe and wanted me to stay home.” It still didn’t make any sense. As far as I knew, Mom only put us in diapers when we had accidents or wet the bed, and she didn’t treat us like babies unless we were wearing them. This sounded different. It sounded like she got mad and put her back in the nursery as punishment. I asked, “Wait, so Mom put you back in diapers because you went out?” Charlotte gritted her teeth. “Not exactly. We live so far from everything, so I drove to the bar. I’d had a couple of drinks, but I wasn’t drunk, and Mom lost her mind when she found out I drove myself home. She said I was clearly not responsible enough to be an adult, and when I tried to argue, she pulled out the same line she used on you. She said I was overstimulated, and the next thing I knew, I was wrapped in a blanket and lying in a crib.” I stared at her. “I didn’t know.” Charlotte’s eyes filled. “Reggie, it was humiliating. She had Becca’s little sister babysit me.” Her mouth twisted. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have some teenager change your diaper?” I shrugged, “Stacy?” Charlotte nodded. “Yeah. Then Mom had me start over from the beginning. She even dragged out the same little chair I used with Kristy.” “How long did she keep it up?” Charlotte let out a short, humorless breath. “A couple of weeks, I think. I wasn’t working, so the days all blurred together.” Her mouth tightened. “But some of it didn’t stop when the rest of it did.” “What do you mean?” She went pink and looked away. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a mumble. “Reggie, I still wet the bed. I never stopped.” “Wait. But Mom let you out of the nursery when you were in high school. How did that happen?” “Back then?” she asked, and I nodded. “After I started high school, I told her I wasn’t a baby anymore, and that it wasn’t fair for her to keep treating me like one. I begged her to give me a chance, and I promised I’d take care of everything myself. She wouldn’t even know if I had an accident. It took us almost three years, but with Daddy’s help, we convinced her to give me a chance.” She blushed. “But this time, she didn’t trust me. She made me sleep in the nursery until I moved in with Dennis.”

Carole makes a decision. Chapter 44 It was total silence the rest of the drive to the restaurant. Gulp… She’s mad. But I thought she might be in for this? I mean, she’s the dommy-mommy, wouldn’t she like taking charge of my cock???? She takes charge of lots of other things in our lives. Best not say a word until she’s ready to talk about it. I don’t want my ass blistered. Walking from the car, through the parking lot and into the restaurant, I felt like the whole world must be staring at my crotch. Of course I didn’t dare reach down there in public, but it was just this image in my mind, I felt my locked-up status was on display to the whole world. The others had arrived first, and the hostess showed us to their table. Yes, that’s ‘Glenny’, but of course he looks perfectly normal, dressed in some casual jeans and a short-sleeved shirt today. Karen was a brunette, I vaguely remember seeing her at Miss Beth’s party as well. They had a booth, both sitting on one side, Karen inside. Glen was on the outside and stood up and shook hands with both Mommy and me. Mommy had me scoot over so I was facing Karen while Mommy sat across from Glen. After a couple pleasantries and ordering something to drink, Mommy turned to Karen and asked, “So do you handle the details of the business? Or Glen?” I looked as Karen shook her head, “Oh no, Glen does it all. Buys the materials, makes everything and handles all the books. I just take a few pictures and print up a few flyers.” Then Karen looked down and dug into her purse for a moment. She pulled out a glossy flyer that seemed to have a lot of pictures. She handed it to Mommy, “Here’s a good sample of Glen’s work. You know he made the crib for Miss Beth’s playroom?” Then Karen looked at me and giggled, “And the spanking horse in her woodshed. What did you think of that Tom???” I felt a spurt of pee when I remembered being fastened over that horse. But I managed to stop the flow and mumbled something. Karen looked at Mommy to add, “We had to leave before you finished with it. Did it work okay for you? Help you teach little Tammy some manners?” Mommy giggled and glanced at me, “Oh yeah, worked just fine. I have to say Glen, you do some great work.” So, apparently Glen is some sort of furniture maker in his spare time? Caters to a certain sort of fetish furniture. It was Glen’s turn to brag a little, “Got started making my own crib and changing table. But others seemed interested, so I branched out a bit.” Mommy was looking over the flyer and held it close so I could see as she said, “What do you think Tommy? Maybe a changing table and a high chair for your new playroom?” I looked at the pictures, one even showed Miss Beth’s crib in her playroom. So this is what the lunch date is all about. Mommy’s looking to buy things for the playroom… Mommy was talking again while she let me look over the flyer, “So, as far as price and all, would you be interested in bartering? Maybe an exchange?” Just then our food arrived and Glen stood up, saying, “I need to visit the little boy’s room.” Karen nodded and Glen walked in that direction. After the waitress left, Mommy put her hand in my lap and smiled at Karen, “This one doesn’t use the little boy’s room anymore.” Then she winked at me and asked, “Isn’t that right sweetie? You can’t stay dry long enough anymore can you?” I felt my face burning bright red as Karen looked at me expectantly, raising an eyebrow and inquiring, “Really? I don’t think my Glen would ever go that far… Diapered all the time?” When I didn’t say anything, Mommy’s hand squeezed my thigh firmly as she lowered her voice, “Answer Miss Karen sweetie.” I nodded my head and whispered, “Yes Miss Karen, full time because I… I have accidents now. And… and Mommy likes it this way.” Glen came back and sat down quickly, “Back… what did I miss?” Karen lowered her voice a little and leaned towards her husband, “Tommy was just telling me how he has to wear diapers all the time now, not just at playtimes.” I was staring at my plate, but I could tell Glen looked at me for a moment. I don’t know if he was shocked, incredulous, or took it in stride. Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Mommy shook out her napkin and broke the silence, “Well, it looks delicious. I haven’t had a nice BLT sandwich in ages. Apparently, even though Glenny was at the party, he’s not full-time. Making furniture, running his own business… Using the ‘little boys’ room… Considering their reaction to my being diapered, I wonder what they would think if they knew that right now, underneath my diaper, my cock was locked away. I stayed quiet while we ate. Mommy explained that since I do some work for Miss Beth, we have an ‘account’ if you will, of unused babysitting time. Mommy asked if Karen and Glenny would be interested in swapping some babysitting time for some custom baby furniture. “Of course, we’d have to get Beth to approve it as well. But I think she’d be okay with it, so long as the exchange rates were fair,” she explained. After they chatted some more and we finished lunch, Glen picked up the check afterwards. He smiled as he said, “I’ll write it off as a business lunch. Entertaining potential client.” On the way home, Mommy chatted about the furniture, “It does look like quality work and all. If we can exchange some babysitting for it, that could work out don’t you think?” I nodded and answered, “Yeah, that would be a good way to do things.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “Of course we’ll keep a few hours for Tommy and Tammy to be babysat.” I squirmed a little as we turned off the main road and Mommy pulled into our driveway. But she didn’t turn off the car, or park in the garage. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “Now, you be good and get back to work. I might be running a little late tonight because I took this time off.” She didn’t offer to help me with… with the cage on my cock. And she had said not to bring it up. So clearly, I’m dismissed and expected to go inside and get back to my own job. As I closed the front door, I saw her car driving away. I headed upstairs and turned toward the playroom. I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I wanted to be sure. I looked in the little pouch bag, and on the floor where I had left them. Then I searched around but the keys were nowhere to be found. My first suspicion was right, Mommy took them and I have no idea where they are now. Probably in her purse. Well Tom, you were going to tell her sooner or later. And here we are. She knows I put it on by myself, and now she’s holding the keys. She was upset with me; that much I could tell. And she didn’t want to talk about it. Not until she’s had time to think. You wanted to play around with chastity a little, but now you’re head-long into it. Not just wading in the kiddie-pool, we’re off the deep end. And I don’t dare bring it up with her again until she’s ready to talk. She said she’d ‘beat my ass’, and I believe her. I sulked for a few minutes, my hand between my legs. Based on how it felt when she yanked on it, I don’t think it’s coming off without the key. Or a hacksaw. I shivered for a moment, the thought of some power tool within a tiny fraction of an inch of my manhood. I finally went into the office and tried to get some work done. But I kept one eye on the clock as they say. When it was past five thirty and still no Mommy, I was getting a little worried. My diaper was pretty wet by now and not even a text message. At six thirty, I logged off and tried to find something to keep my mind off my situation. Finally, at just a couple minutes before seven, I heard the garage door opening. I was walking to the door when it opened and she stepped inside. She smiled and handed me a bag of fast-food, “Here sweetie, put this on the table while Mommy goes potty.” I did as she asked, setting the table with some paper plates as well. I got the food out and was pretty sure I knew which burger was hers, so I set each on our respective plates. She returned and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. She smiled as she ate a fry and asked, “Get much work done this afternoon? Sorry I didn’t put Tammy back into her dress.” I tried to be casual, “Some work… It’s okay about the dress, you needed to get back to work.” She sat up a little straighter and said, “I’ve decided to only use half your babysitting hours with Glen and Karen. I’m keeping the rest so I can have you visit Beth once in a while. I think it’ll do you some good.” Miss Beth explained that my first time… “Sometimes mommies like to have me babysit their little ones. They learn to appreciate their mommy more after a stay with me.” So… I need to be babysat? So that I’ll appreciate Mommy more??? She looked at me for a moment then asked, “Aren’t you interested in what I asked Glen to make for us?” Suddenly I got scared again. Was it… was it one of those horse things? So that Mommy can beat my ass more? She must have noticed the expression on my face. She chuckled a little and said, “Relax sweetie, I’m not getting you a spanking horse if that’s what’s worrying you. I asked about a highchair with a locking tray, and a changing table with some storage underneath. For my baby’s diapers and such.” I felt a little relief. A changing table would be fine. A highchair, even a locking one didn’t sound very bad. But Mommy had to give me one more little dig, “Afterall, my lap and that kitchen counter work just fine when you need a spanking.” She put her last bite of burger in her mouth and chewed. Then she took a drink and finally added, “Although… it turns out he also makes good paddles, so I ordered one of those as well.” I felt another spurt flow into my diaper. But of course, the one thing that I wanted to ask about was still off limits as far as I could tell. I helped her clear away the remains of the meal. Then Mommy looked at the time and said, “It’s a bit late sweetie, our shows are all ready over. Let’s get little Tommy ready for bed.” With that, she took my hand and we went upstairs. Standing in the middle of the room, I watched as Mommy picked up the dress I wore earlier and hung it back in the closet. She casually mentioned, “We’re going to have to get all your pretty things dry cleaned soon sweetie. I don’t think they’re machine washable.” Then she came over to face me and started to strip off my clothes. As I lifted a foot to step out of my pants, she commented, “But my little boy on the other hand, you need a shower tonight.” After ripping open my diaper and letting it fall, she bent down and reached for my caged genitals. She mumbled a little, “Now, let me see if I can figure this out… Unlock this… and… Ah.. there we go. Hold out your hands sweetie.” I held out my cupped hands as she put each piece in them, including the lock, but not the keys. As she straightened up again, she held the keys up in her hand for me to see and said simply, “Mommy keeps these.” As I stood there, holding the thing in my hand… SLAP!! “Rinse it off good and then shower baby.” It was only her hand, but it stung against my wet skin. I turned and headed to the bathroom, whimpering “Yes Mommy.” … By the time I finished and dried both it and me off, she had changed into one of her flannel nightgowns and was sitting at her vanity brushing her hair. She must have seen me in her mirror. She reached down and patted the flat of her hand on an open spot on her vanity, saying simply, “Put your little house right here sweetie.” I walked over next to her and set it where she wanted, it occurred to me that that spot wasn’t open before. She had cleared away a spot, moving her jewelry box. Does that mean it’s where she’s going to keep it from now on? Out in the open? Right where she can get at it anytime she wants? But all she said then was, “Good boy. Now go lay down and Mommy will get you diapered and ready for bed. I already have your baba ready.” I turned and as I approached the bed, I saw a bottle on her nightstand. There was a diaper already unfolded, laying open on my side of the bed. I was still feeling a bit guilty, and wanted to talk about what I had done. But when I looked back at Mommy, she had turned to watch me. Her legs were crossed and her hands were poised on her knee. But in her hands, she held her hairbrush. I stood still for a moment and she raised her eyebrow. Then she wiggled the hairbrush in her hand and said, “Not yet Tom. And unless you want me to use this on you, do as you’re told, lie down so I can put you in your diaper. I don’t need another surprise tonight and wake up in a wet bed.” Another not so subtle dig at me. Without a diaper, I probably would wet the bed. I did as she told me and lay on the open diaper. Mommy put her hairbrush on her vanity and came over to diaper me. As she tugged and pulled the tapes snug, she started talking, but not about my recent behavior, “I’ve put some fiber supplement in your bottle sweetie. Don’t worry, it’s not some laxative or whatever. Just a little dietary supplement.” She went to the dresser and reached in a drawer for some plastic baby pants and a shirt as she went on, “I haven’t changed my attitude about changing messy diapers. I expect you to still use the potty for that. Arm sweetie.” I squirmed my arms through the sleeves of my shirt as she helped me with it, tucking the base of the shirt into the elastic waist of the baby pants that she tugged into place. She stood straight and brushed down the front of my shirt adding, “There, snug and comfy?” I nodded and she turned to go around to her side of the bed saying, “But a bit of fiber will help you be more regular. And tonight I added some sleep aid for you. I think a good night sleep is in order.” As we both got under the covers, she reached to set the alarm on her phone. Night time bottle? I didn’t think she had been doing that since I… Since I started waking up wet all on my own. The light went off and I felt her shifting to cuddle with me. I felt her twist around and back, then one word, “Open.” I parted my lips and the nipple of the bottle slipped in and I started to suckle. After just a couple of swallows, her voice started in the darkness. “Tom, I’ve told you several times that I’m not interested in any threesome. And I’m NOT going to cuckold you, making you watch me with someone else. If that’s what this is about, just put it out of that head of yours right now.” I tried to shake my head and mumble around the nipple, “no ommy… ith noth…” But she went on, “Shh, Mommy’s talking. I love being a dommy-mommy, but I’m not some bitch. You’ve been acting weird all week. I tried to be bitchy with you Sunday, making you do all the housework in your pretty outfit. But you didn’t say a word about it. Is that what you need? For me to be all bossy and boss you around?” So that’s why she did what she did on Sunday, she thought I wanted her to treat me like some servant… Again, I shook my head and tried to mumble, “nu… I wants my mommy…” I felt the bed shift a little as she squirmed to get closer. Her breast was pressed against my cheek, but one hand still held the bottle. She kissed my head and whispered, “That’s what I want too sweetheart.” I felt her lips gently kiss my ear as she whispered, “I want you to be happy too sweetie, so here is how things are going to go.” I stopped suckling, listening intently as Mommy laid down her plan, “First, like I said, I’m not interested in cuckolding you. I’m never going to put that thing on you. Not ever. So just accept that.” “And I’m not going to tell you to put it on. I’m not even going to suggest it. It can stay over there on the vanity until we’re both old and gray and in a nursing home. The ONLY way it ever gets used is if YOU put it on yourself. Not me, not Miss Beth, nobody locks up your cock except YOU! Do you understand me? This is something you choose Tom. Nobody else.” She paused, then added, “I need you to say it Tom.” I felt the nipple pulled from my lips and I licked my lips a moment. I hesitated and then whispered, “I understand. Nobody but me. I’m the only one that puts it on.” Then she said one word, “But…” I held my breath. It was only a couple of seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Finally she spoke again, “I decide when it comes back off.” I exhaled and nodded, whispering, “Okay.” But she went on, “I mean it Tom. It’s up to you if you ever… EVER put it on again. But I decide when it comes off. It might be a couple hours… it might be a couple days. It might even be a couple of weeks! Or a MONTH!! It’s your decision to put it on, but it’s MY DECISION when it comes off!” Gulp, not exactly what I had in mind… a MONTH?!?! But she wasn’t finished, “And just because you decide to deny yourself sex for a while, doesn’t mean I miss out on it. I expect you to still satisfy me, locked up or not.” Her hand gently gripped my chin and turned my head to look at her in the dim light. Her eyes stared into mine for a moment. Then she made it clear, “I mean it Tom. Think about it carefully. You might end up on your knees licking me while your cock is stuck in that thing. Tasting my pussy and smelling me, while you’re on your knees in one of your cute dresses, unable to play with your clitty.” “Or I might sit on your face until I cum and all you can do is dribble in your diaper, unable to even get hard.” She made her point clear when she added, “Or I’ll put a strapon over your diaper and ride you like a cowgirl and you won’t be able to feel my warm pussy on your dick while I climax over and over again on top of you.” I hesitated, the image she just described, remembering the feeling of her warmth enveloping my cock… I felt it twinge as it reacted. I put my hand on the front of my diaper and squeezed, then I whispered, “But… but you will take it off eventually… “ Her hand stroked my face and she kissed me. Then she said, “Yes dear. But not if you whine and complain about it. And if you get too horny and it feels too tight when it tries to get hard, I’m sure a good paddling will stop your whining. The way you shrink when I spank you, that should make it fit again just fine.” Then I felt her hand let go of my cheek and slide down my tummy and under my own hand. It pushed into my diaper and gripped my cock. My cock responded as she slowly pulled up and down. Her voice whispered, “Just remember… you put it on… but Mommy decides when it comes off….” I thought about it for maybe one whole second as her skilled fingers lightly touched just under the tip of my cock. The tiny bit of extra skin there was aching when her fingers glided over it. I spread my legs reflexively as the blood rushed to my member. Then her hand pulled out and I felt my eyebrow furrow. Her hand pushed the silicone nipple of my pacifier into my mouth as she whispered, “Baby have his little suck suck…” Thankfully, her hand went right back down the front of my diaper and gently stroked her fingers over my balls. They felt so nice with no hair anymore. As she tickled them, I spread my legs even more and started sucking earnestly on my pacifier. Then her lips gently kissed my ear as her hand gripped my throbbing peepee. She didn’t say another word as she tugged. For some reason, I imagined I was kneeling in my pretty party dress, leaning my face between her naked legs as Mommy smiled, looking down at me, saying, “Good Girl… lick Mommy and then I’ll let you play with your clitty….” I sucked the pacifier into my mouth hard as I felt my muscles spasming. Mommy’s hand was stroking furiously as I lifted my hips and came. I heard in the darkness a giggle and the words, “Tommy made a splooshie…” I collapsed back on the bed, gasping for air as Mommy’s fingers slowed and gently ‘milked’ the last drops from me Her hand pulled out and I heard the sound of her sucking each of her fingers clean. The last thing I remember was her arm reaching across my chest and hugging me To Be Continued

Not that you're clairvoyant, but here's the next chapter. hehehe Chapter 43 The next couple of days were routine. Mommy would get me ready for work in the mornings and when she got home she treated me like her little boy. Diapers had become a full-time part of my life. Thursday, she used the hair cream on me to make sure I didn’t grow any back. After my showering it off, I felt a little embarrassed as she had me stand in front of her while she ‘inspected’ every part of me. When I hesitated about bending over and spreading my cheeks, it got me a slap on my bottom. Friday morning when we woke up, sitting at the breakfast table with our separate cups of coffee, I saw her staring at me. Did she suspect something? I hadn’t gone back to that web site since that first time… She sat up a little and spoke to me, “Sweetie darling? When’s the last time you made a boomboom?” The question was so far out in left field, I blinked and stammered. I gulped once and answered honestly, “I… I’m not sure. Wednesday? Or maybe Tuesday? Why?” She shook her head a little, “Tsk, we need to get you a bit more regular. It’s not healthy for little ones to wait so long.” Then she rose from the table and started towards the sink as she added, “Maybe we’ll have to make sure you get some more fiber in your diet.” As I followed her with my own cup, she turned and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then she winked and smiled, “if you haven’t made one by the time I get home, Mommy will just have to clean you out with another enema. Now let’s get you changed, I don’t want to be late for work.” I whined a little under my breath as she tugged my hand back upstairs to change me out of my wet diaper. She didn’t say anything more about it, as it was a forgone conclusion that what she decided was how things would be. Then she was off to work, and I was sitting at the computer about to log on. But my mind wasn’t on work, it was thinking about being over Mommy’s lap getting my bottom filled. Mommy decides everything. Decides what her little one wears, she’s the one that put me in diapers, and now I need them because I have wetting accidents. She’s deciding what I eat, when I sleep, even when I… when I make boombooms. What about… what will it be like when she even decides when I… When I get to cum even? She’s never said I can’t jerk off. Or as she puts it, ‘play with my peepee’…. As that thought occurred to me, I remembered the shopping cart at the chastity web site. I typed in my browser and looked. It was still there. If I order it today, it should be here Monday or Tuesday, while Mommy is at work. I could try it out while she’s working… See what it’s like. Then I’ll know if it’s something I’d be willing to let Mommy decide… I filled out my credit card information and address and clicked ‘SUBMIT’. Hmm… interesting double-meaning of that word for a site like this. Not ‘Place Order’… or ‘Buy Now’. But instead ‘SUBMIT’. A subtle message of what I’m doing… When Mommy got home that night, she had some fiber powder she had bought. And another four-pack of enemas. I ended up over her lap again, with my tummy cramping. As her hand tugged my diaper back up and rubbed my bottom, she also rubbed between my legs and for being a ‘good boy’, at bedtime Mommy climbed on top of me and I got to cum inside her before being put in my bedtime diaper. … Saturday, we went to Miss Beth’s. I worked upstairs while Mommy and Miss Beth said they would have a chat out on the patio. But at some point, the doorbell rang and I watched on her camera set up as an older guy came to visit. He had grey hair and a bit of a tummy, but Miss Beth took him to the cloakroom. When she led him to the playroom, he was wearing a baby bonnet, diaper, and some sort of onesie. I tried not to keep staring; I had work to do. But I did see him get fed in a highchair and at one point Miss Beth seemed to be scolding him as she towered over the guy, sitting on the play mats, hugging a teddy bear, sucking his thumb. I felt my own diaper growing warm and soggy as I watched her wagging her finger at him. He pulled his thumb from his mouth and looked like he was bawling, just from being scolded. Then she pointed at the crib, and I watched as he rolled over and started crawling towards it. When she raised the side and pushed something in his mouth, I reached up and turned off the monitor. I know how you feel friend, Miss Beth can be pretty intimidating. But I can’t work if I’m watching her babysitting you. I tried to ignore what I felt in my diaper. I was wet and felt ‘little’, but I had work to do. Finally, about four o’clock I got the big PayPal tie-in finished, tested, and moved it to production. … On the way home, Mommy asked, “We’ve got quite a balance with Beth now. Should I schedule some babysitting with her for you? She won’t hurt your little beans, not like that one time. I promise you that.” I shrugged and tried not to commit to anything, “I guess, maybe with Jack & Jill or something.” After a few moments of silence, Mommy spoke more gently, “Do you want Mommy to decide? Is that it? Little Tommy can’t ask for what he wants and needs Mommy to push?” I just stared at my hands in my lap as she drove on. After dinner and laying in her lap having my bottle, she asked some more questions, “Tom? Is something on your mind? You’ve been a little distracted this week. Something you want to talk about?” I looked up into her eyes. But I had the nipple of my bottle in my mouth. I just wiggled my head a little and kept suckling. How can I bring this up? She’s threatened me once with a chastity cage and now I’ve gone and ordered one. But how can I tell her that I want her to control… control my very cock? Women would never understand, from a very early age, guys feel that it’s a part of us… even playing dressup as Tammy, I still have a cock between my legs… She knew something’s up. But she was patient. She kissed my forehead and whispered, “Okay little one…. But Mommy’s here if you want to talk.” Then she reached for the remote and turned on the tv. Sunday, Mommy took charge right from the start. She put me in my ‘little helper’ dress and put me to work doing chores. After the usual dusting and vacuuming, she had me doing other things. I noticed she wasn’t doing much herself, but instead was ordering me about. When I didn’t get the stove top quite clean enough, she wiped a finger across it and smirked, “Not nearly good enough sweetie. Still greasy.” She reached for my arm to spin me around and…. SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! Right on my diapered bottom. Then she scolded, “Clean it properly little lady, or you’ll get more than that.” I was in shock as I watched her turn and walk away. She… she’s never been like that before with Tammy…. Well, Tammy got it one time at Miss Beth’s for fighting, but not about doing my chores… I resented being her maid, doing chores all by myself. Things were cool between us the rest of the day. … Monday, shortly after the morning video conference, I heard a delivery van. I stopped everything and went down to check the porch. There it was, not that large a box or anything. I blushed just thinking about what the delivery guy would think if he knew what was inside. I should get back to work… but maybe I can just… Soon I was up in the playroom, sitting on the floor reading the directions. I double checked that both keys worked in the small padlock. I studied the instructions; it was more complicated than I thought. A clamp that goes around both my nuts and over my dick, then a tube to slip over my dick, and what’s this for? Oh yeah, that’s why it’s called, ‘The Vice’. This clamps through the slots of the tube, gripping behind the head of my dick so it can’t be pulled out the back. My heart was pounding I was so nervous. But since my video call was over, I didn’t need to wear pants anymore today. I was on my knees, shimmying down my diaper with the parts laid out in front of me. I was a little surprised, after all this anticipation, that my dick was as soft and shriveled as when Mommy spanks. Because of my shriveled state, it all went on quite easily. But the small padlock was the only way to keep all the pieces together, so I slipped it in and clicked it. I had the keys, so it was no big deal. I fondled it a few minutes. It was secure, that’s for sure. And it sort of, well it’s hard to explain. But the part around my balls seemed to be pulling forward a little. Sort of pushing them out in front of me, as if presenting them like… “Here we are! Everybody look! This little guy is locked away and not really a cock anymore!” My hand just kept fondling when I heard my phone chirp. I tugged up my diaper and waddled back to the office. A message from my team leader, Susan. Sigh… back to work kiddo… Standing in the kitchen at lunch time, I almost forgot about it until I started peeing. It felt a little strange and my hand reached for the front of my diaper. That’s when I felt it again and remembered. So after lunch, before getting back to work, I went back to the playroom, found the keys and removed it. It was wet of course, so I took all the bits to the bathroom and rinsed them off. After drying them, I put it all back in the little pouch sack it came in and tucked it in the corner under all the stuffed animals. That wasn’t so bad. I thought it would hurt or something. But I practically didn’t feel a thing. Maybe all the talk was… Oh wait, yeah, I hadn’t really gotten an erection or anything, so… Well, maybe again tomorrow. I could wear it longer and maybe see if I can… test it a little. I went to see Mommy when I heard the garage open and we had a nice dinner. After my bottle, Mommy put a pacifier in my mouth as we watched some tv. But then I felt her hand between my legs. At first, I thought she was just checking my diaper, but her hand kept moving and gently squeezing. Well, as they say, a guy’s cock has a mind of its own. Soon I was laying on my back with my legs spread wide for her as her hand kept rubbing my bulge. I closed my eyes and suckled as she spoke softly, “Little Tommy likes when Mommy does this… Make your little peepee all tingly…” I nodded and whispered around my pacifier, “yeth mummee.. is nice an ingwy…” When my eyes peeked open, Mommy’s face was gazing down at me with that wonderful smile, that jet black hair, I squirmed and nuzzled against her chest as her hand kept moving. I heard a soft giggle, “Awww… does the widdle baby want Mommy’s boobies? You’re just a little mama’s boy aren’t you. Wanting Mommy’s boobies….” My hips were moving of their own accord as they lifted against Mommy’s hand. I sucked on my pacifier faster as I inhaled against her. Her scent filled my head as I whimpered with desperation. “Does little Tommy want to make a cummies for Mommy? Hmm? Where should little Tommy’s cummies go? Baby is too little to fuck like a man… where do babies do their cummies???” I was whimpering as her hand pushed between my legs to rub my diaper against my balls. I was squirming and I buried my face between her breasts, my mouth sucking harder and harder on my pacifier. “That’s right…. Little Tommy goes in his diaper…. That’s what baby Tommy does… Tommy has to wear diapers…. Because you’re just a BABY!” I whined and reached to put my hand on her breast. “Shh it’s okay…. Mommy knows. Do your little cummies… then Mommy will let you suckle on her boobies…. Cummies first… then boobies…” I felt my hips lift more. As her hand rubbed the diaper over my aching balls, I suddenly tensed and felt my muscles spasming. It felt like more than usual, had it been that long? As I collapsed and lay in her lap, her hand moved and tugged at her top. Soon it tugged my pacifier out of my mouth, to be replaced by her warm, firm nipple. Her arms cradled my head and I purred gently as I suckled. I felt her kissing my head and her fingers stroking my hair. I think she started humming but I fell asleep. … After breakfast the next morning, as Mommy changed my diaper, I screwed up some courage and asked Mommy, “Can… can little Tammy wear a dress today Mommy?” It was a working day, and I seldom ask for this. Tammy plays dressup on Sunday of course, but that was Mommy’s rule. For me to ask was rare. But Mommy took it in stride, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Of course sweetie. How about the one with “Mommy’s Little Angel” on the front? You haven’t worn that since Beth’s party.” But I had ulterior motives. Shelly had said when she plays with her cousin Sammy, and dressed like a little girl… “Little girls don’t have peepees”. I wanted to try that out for myself. So after Mommy dressed her little Tammy, including my pretty bonnet, and kissed her goodbye, I scurried to the playroom and dove for the corner pile of stuffed animals. It was harder to put on this time. I knew just how it was supposed to go, but my cock wasn’t exactly cooperating. I flopped forward and did twenty pushups and that was enough. My cock went limp again and soon I was tugging up my diaper and smoothing out my dress. Good little girls don’t have peepees…. An… an I’m a good girl. I stood up and waddled to the bedroom. I lifted my dress before the mirror and giggled. While my junk felt like it was being held out and presented to the world, my diaper just had a bit of a bulge. Holding my dress up with one hand, I watched in the mirror as my other hand reached down and gently caressed the front of my diaper. I felt my ‘clitty’ start to throb a little as it woke up again. The pushups had worn off and now it was trying to get erect. I said out loud, to no one in the room, “Oooo… Tammy’s kitty is getting all tingly… I hope Mommy doesn’t spank me for being naughty…. Wubbing my widdle clitty…” I stood there enjoying the view and feeling of being a helpless, naughty little girl. I can see why Shelly does this I think. It sort of edges me, teasing and denying at the same time. Sigh… my phone alarm went off. It was time to get to work. But I smiled at myself and decided to skip instead of just walk. I grinned at how skipping along makes my little dress flounce and bounce around. I sat down with a happy plop and logged in. … My tummy grumbled and I knew it was close to lunch. There was a noise, but it wasn’t the garage door. Then I heard steps and Mommy calling, “Tammy dear, I’m sorry but I need to take Tommy out for a few minutes.” For a moment I was just annoyed, but then I panicked. I was still wearing my ‘little house’ and Mommy…. Mommy would… She stepped into the room and kissed my cheek. I stammered, “Wh..what are you doing here?” She giggled and smirked, “I live here silly. Now come on. We have a luncheon date, and I don’t think you want to wear that do you?” I glanced down where she pointed at my dress and blushed as she took my hand and led me to the bedroom. She turned me gently and undid the buttons. Then lifted off my dress and lay it on the bed, saying, “You can get back in your pretty dress when we come back.” Then her hand started to reach for my crotch as I stood in front of her, asking simply, “How’s that diaper sweetie? Need a change?” I froze as I felt her grip. I couldn’t look at her so I lifted my head back and stared up at the ceiling as I felt her grip shift and grip again. Then the sound of my diaper tapes ripping and my diaper falling between my feet. Not a sound in the room as her fingers gripped the cage holding my penis. Then a sharp yank that made me involuntarily step forward. Still not a word from Mommy. “I…. I can explain Mommy…” I started to say. “Where are the keys Tom?” was all she said. I raised an arm and pointed. I felt a choke in my voice as I said simply, “In the playroom.” She turned and as she started walking, all she said was, “Lay on the bed Tom, so I can get you in a clean diaper.” I did as she said and when she returned, I couldn’t quite get a ‘read’ on her. She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t frowning. She just went to the dresser and picked up a fresh diaper. I expected her since she went to get the keys, that she’d take the cage off, but instead she just unfolded the diaper and started to slip it under me. I lifted without her asking. As she pulled the diaper up between my legs I asked, “Aren’t you going to… going to take it off?” Her voice was calm, but cool, “Not right now. I have some thinking to do. And I don’t want to be late for our lunch date.” She was quiet after that, getting me dressed in some casual clothes and taking me out the front door to where she had parked in the street. As she started to drive, I asked, “Who are we having lunch with? Miss Beth?” “Nope. Glen and Karen. You met little Glenny at Beth’s party,” was her simple but brief reply. After a couple minutes of silence, I tried again, “It was just that Shelly said… And I wasn’t sure how…” “Tom! I told you, I need time to think things through. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to talk about it. Mention it again before I’m ready and I’ll put you over my lap and beat your ass!!!” was her retort. I swallowed hard and stared straight ahead. To Be Continued

Yet another chapter, but what is little Tommy up to now?? Chapter 42 It had to be a dream. Where else would I be riding on a carousel? A large, old-time carousel. With white and gold horses, bobbing up and down as it spun around gently. There was a gold-painted pole right in front of me supporting my horse. I was gripping it tightly with both hands. My horse was white with a gold-colored saddle and rose circles on its cheeks. As I plunged down for a moment, I could see Mommy standing next to me, smiling. As the horse started to rise again, I realized my legs were spread wide as I straddled it. The sudden upward force felt… nice. Then it dropped away gently and lifted me again. Again it… Wait! That’s… that’s not right…. The ridge of the saddle should be pushing against… I took one hand from the pole and reached between my crotch and the saddle. The diaper I felt was perfectly natural, but… My hand pulled at my dress and pushed inside and I felt a panic. WHERE’S MY COCK!!!?!?! It… It’s gone!!! All I feel is… is a… a pussy??? The horse rose again and it pushed against my vulva, the gentle pressure against my new labia. I felt a tap on my bare thigh and heard Mommy’s voice, “That can wait until we get home sweetie, hold on with both hands.” As I looked at her, she just smiled and nodded towards the pole that was supporting my merry-go-round horse. “Both hands sweetie…” I pulled my hand away and gripped the pole. But the rocking motion between my legs was getting more intense. I couldn’t close my legs against it with the horse and saddle between them. But the ride just kept going. Soon I was pulling myself forward a little, pressing my bald kitty against the front of the saddle. Each rise of the horse edged me more… Is this what it’s like to be a girl? Grinding my… my clitty against things? The padding in my diaper absorbing much of it? My feet had no stirrup or step to push against, nothing to lift away as I felt my hips starting to rock. I gripped the pole tighter, trying to lift a little and then dropping back on the slight ridge of the saddle. I looked over and Mommy was smiling. She must know what I’m doing, grinding myself against this moving machine. I felt my breathing getting faster as I rocked and ground myself more openly. I felt a bit like a stripper in a strip club. Holding onto this pole in front of me, grinding my body against it as I felt myself getting closer and closer. Then Mommy whispered, “Go ahead sweetie… you’re in a diaper, cum all you want.” Just the idea that I had Mommy’s permission was all it took. I felt a shiver as all my muscles down there spasmed and clenched. I thrust my hips against the front saddle horn and my eyes closed and rolled back in my head as I orgasmed intensely. Then I felt a soft pat on my bottom and heard Mommy again, “There you go…. Feel better now?” I blinked and woke up. I was laying on top of Mommy in bed. It was just barely getting light out. I felt her thigh between my legs. She gently pushed me over and smiled as she asked again, “Feel better? Get all those cummies out?” I was still a bit confused but nodded. I looked at her and asked, “Did you… or did I just….” Mommy chuckled, “Should I be insulted? Don’t you remember climbing on top of me and waking me up?” I shook my head a little, “It… it was this dream I had… Wait, you didn’t start things?” Mommy smiled and shook her head, “Must have been some dream. No sweetie, I was sleeping and you started grinding yourself against me. So, I helped you crawl on top and lifted my leg for you to do your humpies.” I reached between my legs and gripped my diaper. The familiar bulge was there, along with my balls. It was all a dream. A real ‘gender bender’ I guess. I’m not gay, am I becoming trans-sexual? No, no that’s not a thing. You don’t just turn ‘trans’. Even I know that! But still… some latent fantasy? All that time yesterday with Shelly? Maybe I had best… “Tommy? Are you okay?” I turned to see Mommy looking at me. I nodded and answered quietly, “Yeah, it’s fine. It was just a dream…” Ever the caring person she is, Mommy asked gently, “Want to talk about it? You seemed to be enjoying it a lot, whatever it was…” Just then the alarm clock sounded. Phew… saved by the bell. I shrugged a little and kicked off the covers as Mommy reached to silence the alarm. I tried to change the subject, “Maybe later, I need some coffee and have a video chat soon.” Whether she was satisfied with my answer, I’m not sure. But she got up as well and didn’t push me about it. I headed to the kitchen and started the coffee. Standing there, I felt a need to pee, so I just let go. I just came, and actually, being diapered can be pretty convenient. Is that what ‘diaper lovers’ find nice about them? The convenience? I kind of get that I guess. I heard the shower as the coffee brewer coughed and sputtered the last of its creation into the pot. I poured myself a cup and sat down with a squish. Diapers… convenient… marks Mommy’s ‘territory’. No help against a spanking though, Mommy always makes sure of that. Sigh… Mommy. God I love her. I wonder if she’d consider marrying me? What would that really change though? I mean, she loves me, and I love her. She even says she doesn’t care if I’m Tommy or Tammy, so long as she’s the one to care for me. But that dream… no cock. Granted our sex life is… varied. But she DOES like when we fuck the traditional way as well. What if I didn’t have a cock to fuck with? Would she ever marry a lesbian? Some trans folks have surgery. Is that what this is about? I never really thought about it much. When I think of… female anatomy down there… My hand reached between my legs and confirmed what I was thinking. Just the image in my mind of Mommy’s kitty, was making my cock wake up again. Mommy breezed into the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to start her day. She poured herself some coffee and sat next to me. After taking a sip, she just said, “After this I’ll take my little boy upstairs and get you dressed. We’ve got about 20 minutes before your morning video meeting.” I looked over and smiled at her. She smiled back. She could probably tell something was on my mind, but she didn’t push. Then she sat a little straighter and took a breath to say, “I thought maybe tomorrow after work we clear out the playroom? Then maybe Wednesday we could go to that toy store chain? See if we can get a few things to fix it up a bit?” I nodded and smiled. I added, “That would be nice. Shelly mentioned we might get some curtains or blinds for the window. It faces the street.” Mommy just tilted her head a little and nodded as she agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Or at least across the lower half of it. Still let in some light but give some semblance of privacy. How about some decals on the walls or something? Help it feel more like a child’s playroom?” I thought for a moment, looking at my coffee cup. The I looked up at her again and asked simply, “Boy or Girl theme?” She gulped the last of her cup and started to rise, “Both silly. No reason it can’t have dollies and racecars. Don’t be so gender rigid.” I rose and followed her to the sink with my own cup. She rinsed them and set them on the rack to dry. Then she leaned to kiss my cheek and took my hand. As she gently led me out of the kitchen, she quipped, “Time for your diaper change. And then we both have work to get to.” Soon I was once again dry and wearing some comfortable jeans and shirt as I logged into the video conference and started my day. … Working in ‘adult’ clothes distracted me and after the meeting I got right into it. It wasn’t until after lunch when I noticed the slip of paper with Shelly’s email address. I took a few minutes to write a short note from my phone: ///// Hi Shelly/ Mikey, I just sending you this so you’ll have my address as well. Was nice playing my computer game with you yesterday and then having some pizza. I don’t want to seem like I’m ‘nagging’ or anything, but I had a good time and enjoyed our chance to talk about… things. Catch you later, Tommy/ Tammy. ///// After I hit send, I realized there were a lot of questions I had, but I let it go. Just because I’m in many ways still a ‘newborn’, I don’t need to pester too much. Get back to work Tom, you promised Susan you’d finish this feature by Thursday. … When Mommy got home from work, it was obvious she had a rough day. So instead of making her cook, I offered to take her out for dinner for a change. She was more than happy to do that, so I dashed upstairs and quickly changed my own diaper for once. It was just a ‘diner’ tonight, it was good but simple food and not any trouble to just relax. Mommy was in a better mood when we got home again. She gave me a hug and kiss just inside the door and said, “Thanks, I appreciate it. But next time you change your own diaper, ask permission first.” I blushed a little, but she winked and smiled at me. Then with a pat on my bottom, she sent me upstairs to get ready for bed and said she would fix my bottles for the night. The next morning, as soon as she went to work, I checked my email. There it was; a reply. ///// Hi Tammy, Yeah, I had a lot of fun Sunday, maybe we can ask our mommies if we can do it on a regular basis. If you didn’t know, I don’t have work or anything, so anytime you want to chat is good. Unless of course I’m doing something with my Mommy. Hehehe. But today she’s in her studio working on a painting so I’m going to be working in the yard if the rain holds off. Mikey ///// Mikey… guess he’s probably not wearing a dress today. Lol… I quickly typed another reply: ///// Hey, ‘Mikey’…. Lol I was wondering, if I ask you something, can you keep it a secret? I mean, I’m kind of curious about something, but I don’t want your mommy to know. She’d probably tell my mommy. Tommy ///// Okay time for work. If I get this done by lunch, Susan won’t be on my case if I take a little time off after lunch. … I delayed lunch a bit until after one but managed to check in the work and logged off. I was too anxious to eat, so I checked for a note from Mikey. ///// Of course Tommy. Unless it’s something that would get me spanked. I mean, I don’t keep many secrets from Mommy, but if I tell her I promised not to say, she’d probably understand. What’s up anyway? Your incontinence troubling you? ///// Deep breath Tom… take your time and write it carefully. Don’t freak out, of all people Mikey will understand. I wrote it out and read it three times before hitting send. Once I hit that, I suddenly felt my diaper warming up. Yeah, scary. Almost like I’m ‘cheating’ on Mommy, talking about this behind her back. But this is what I sent Mikey: ///// I remember how you said, “little girls don’t have a peepee.” I was thinking about it and… Can you help me find a ‘little house’ of my own? It’d have to be a bit bigger than yours. But still…. ///// He didn’t answer right away. I got worried that maybe I had gone too far. No, that can’t be it. I mean, he talked about his performance in bed, how he couldn’t please a woman with his tiny cock. He admitted a lot to me already, would it really be that hard to tell me where he found his chastity cage??? Thirty minutes went by and still no answer. I was getting worried. Had I somehow offended him? God, I hope he didn’t run and tell his mommy. I don’t know Miss Sarah very well, she seems like a kind and loving mommy. But she might be the type to call my Mommy and tell her what ‘those two little dickens are up to…’ Well, nothing I could do at this point, so I turned my attention to the playroom project. I looked online for a better gigabit switch. Up until now, I had just plugged/ unplugged the ethernet cable for each computer when I wanted to use it. I found a good brand named one and ordered it. Should be here Friday or Saturday. Finally, it was almost 4:30 when Mikey replied: ///// Sorry it took some sneaking around. Mommy bought mine and I had to google the brand name on the key. Then cross-referenced it with her browser history and credit card statement from over a year ago. Here’s the URL: https://.......... I took a minute to read their FAQ and stuff. Make sure you read them and get the right measurements. Mine is down in the ‘sissy’ / ‘nano’ sizes, but they have a wide range. Good Luck and just ask me anything if you want. Mikey P.S. I made sure Mommy didn’t catch me out, your secret is safe with me. ///// Just then I heard the door open and Mommy calling for me. I quickly closed my email and started to get up. I blushed a little as I realized I was wet and a little hard. I waddled down the stairs to greet Mommy and she gave me a hug. She asked how my day went and I just shrugged a little. “How about I go up and change into some working clothes and we start on the playroom before dinner?” she asked. I agreed and so that’s what we did. Mommy scolded me a little when she saw the empty candy wrappers that Shelly and I had left strewn about. But not too seriously. After she peeked in all the boxes, she sorted them based on whether they should go in the garage or basement. “I’ll take these two sweetie; can my big strong boy carry those others out to the garage?” she asked. I managed, but one was rather heavy. But she opened the door to the garage for me and I managed. That earned me a hug and kiss. Then a gentle tug on my pants, then four rips of my diaper tapes and soon I was standing naked in the kitchen. She smiled and turned my shoulders towards the front room and gently patted my naked butt, saying, “Shower sweetie, while I fix some dinner.” Just as I stepped out of the shower, Mommy was there with a big towel to dry me off and soon I was in a thick nighttime diaper, stirring the meat sauce while Mommy took a quick shower. The rest of the evening was quiet and uneventful. I had my bottle laying in her lap and she gently pushed a pacifier in my mouth at bedtime. Just as I lay there in the dark, my mind thought about what I had done. Is it kind of cheating? Not telling Mommy what I’m thinking about doing? Even if I kind of like doing it, I’m going to have to tell her sooner or later. Would she smile? Would she be upset? I’m afraid how she’ll react, but… Well, I haven’t actually… Maybe I’ll just delete the email in the morning. No harm done. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do…no problem… relax Tom, you’ve got a plan… nothing to worry about. … Wednesday morning, when I woke up Mommy was already dressed and downstairs in the kitchen having some breakfast. When I waddled in, she heard the crinkling of my walk and looked up, “Morning sweetie. Coffee’s already made.” I poured a cup and sat down, remarking, “You’re up early.” “Yeah, I wanted to get in a few minutes early. When I get home tonight, we need to go shopping and get some things for the playroom.” I sipped my coffee and set down my cup, “Tonight? It’s not that big a rush I thought. We could go this weekend?” She was shaking her head as she wiped her mouth with a napkin and stood up, “Nope. I promised Beth you’d work on her system Saturday. And you know Sunday Tammy has to help me with the housework.” She set her dishes in the sink and walked over to me. She leaned and kissed my head as she said, “Can you be a dear and take care of my dishes later? Let’s get your diaper changed so Mommy can get to work.” She tugged my wrist and off we went. Then she was off to work well before I had to log in, so I took a few minutes to deal with my personal email. But just as I was about to click the delete button, I had second thoughts. Well, it wouldn’t hurt anything to look… right? Mikey said there was some good information in the FAQ… So I clicked on the URL link and found the ‘info’ page and read a few paragraphs. And some more. Then some more after that. Mikey said it was important to get the right size… Let’s see… measurements??? Maybe I’ll just see how I compare… not the ‘nano’ size Mikey wears though… It wasn’t long and I was searching through Mommy’s sewing kit for a tape measure. Then I was sitting back down with my diaper pulled up again, scrolling through models and sizes. I found just what I was looking for. A different model than Shelly’s, but in my size. I clicked add to cart and was about to click SUBMIT, when I hesitated. What if it arrives and Mommy gets to the package before I do…. How long does it take to ship…. I found the answer, 3-5 days. It’s Wednesday, so that would be… Saturday thru Monday. Nope. That won’t work. So, I just saved the shopping cart and closed it. Whew, that was close. Well, the shopping cart probably gets deleted in a couple days. Still no harm done… I should get to work. … When Mommy got home, I logged out and headed downstairs to greet her. She said her day was pretty good and I followed her into the kitchen as we talked about our day. But she stopped in the middle of the kitchen and put her hands on her hips. I heard a slight grunt of disgust. Then I heard her say why. “Tommy! Didn’t I ask you to take care of these dishes this morning? One bowl, a spoon and two coffee cups. And you couldn’t even do that?” she complained. Dam, yes, she had asked me to do that. But I got… distracted. My feelings of guilt were interrupted by the rattling of utensils as she opened a drawer. As her hand rummaged around, all she said was, “Bend over the counter mister. You seem to need a reminder of who’s in charge.” I whined a little, “I… I’m sorry… I just forgot…” But she wasn’t going to be diverted. She reached for my upper arm and pulled me towards the counter, raising her voice, “I said bend over. Now!” She shoved me rather hard towards the counter and I felt her hand gripping the waist band of my jeans and diaper in the back, yanking them roughly. In just a few seconds, we had gone from a casual conversation about our work day, to me bent over the counter with my bare bottom exposed. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Then the spoon landed on the counter and I felt her tender lips kissing where it was now stinging. “There, now maybe you’ll try a little harder to remember when Mommy askes you to do something,” she said more quietly as I stood up. My hands rubbed my stinging bottom for a moment as she kissed my cheek. I wasn’t crying, but it did sting. And I did feel guilty about letting her down. Then her hand gently pushed mine away from my backside as she gripped the back of my jeans and tugged. She didn’t let go though, she nudged me forward and walked me to the stairs, her hand still lifting up on my jeans, making me walk with a bit of a wedgie. All she said was, “Now, let’s get the naughty boy in a clean diaper so we can go shopping.” … As we walked into the big toy store, Mommy got a cart and told me to push it for her, following her through the store. By the time we got to the checkout, the cart was about ¾ full. Some soft plushies, a couple toy trucks and cars, a tea set, a doll, all sorts of toys. Most of the time I was fine, but then Mommy would stop and pick something out and turn to me, asking, “Do you think little Tammy would like this? It has a cute dress, just like she wears.” Or in another aisle, “Oh, I bet Tommy would just LOVE this! See? It even comes with a little fireman’s hat Tommy can wear.” I’m sure other shoppers didn’t pay any attention, but I knew she was referring to ME! Then we went to another store and Mommy picked out some decals for the walls, a cartoonish sun and clouds, a couple of trees and a squirrel and bluebird. And some simple white curtains along with a curtain rod for the window. The last stop was at a drug store. She had me following her, holding my hand the whole time as she went to the makeup area. She spoke casually about everything as she picked up different shades of lip gloss, saying, “Oh, here’s a nice shade for Tammy. It almost matches that party dress she has.” But before leaving, “Oh, wait. We need some more hair cream. Can’t have my little guy looking too grown up.” Finally at home, we spent the rest of the day into the evening, unpacking and decorating my playroom. I mounted the curtain rod and put up the curtains while Mommy put up the decals on the walls. Then Mommy stood in the middle of the room and said, “There. Not too bad, even if I do say so myself. What do you think sweetie? We need to find some suitable furniture, but it’s a start.” I nodded and looked at the small pile of toys in the corner and the walls. It did look pretty good, I nodded and said, “Yeah, starting to feel like a real playroom. And… Can we get something for my diapers? So Mommy can just change me in here when I’m playing?” She smiled at me and answered, “Of course sugarplum! Now, how about Chinese for dinner? You can relax and play in here and I’ll call you when it’s dinner time.” At first it was a little awkward, standing in the middle of the room in my street clothes. But I dropped down on my hands and knees and started playing with my new truck. It made sounds when I pushed the button. Then I found the teddy bear and lay my head on him. Soon my eyes drifted shut. I was awakened by Mommy gently tugging off my pants and poking at my diaper. As I opened my eyes, she spoke softly, “Dinner time little one. I just wanted to check your diaper, you know how much you wet when you’re sleeping.” She decided my diaper could wait and she helped me up to go have dinner. To Be Continued

Chapter 41 When we got to the top of the stairs, I turned and led Shelly to the room above the garage. I tried to apologize a little, “We only decided on making this a playroom this morning. We haven’t even cleared out these boxes yet.” Shelly nodded a little and shrugged, “No problem. It’s a lot bigger than my nursery. Mine used to be a guest bedroom. With a bed, and dresser, and my game system, it’s not real big.” She stepped into the room further and then went to the window and looked out. ‘She’… ‘he’…. Yeah, when he’s dressed up like that it’s easy to just think of ‘him’ as a girl I guess. Miss Sarah said he even imagines he doesn’t have a …. Peepee. Then I realized he was staring at me, “Yo… Earth to Tammy? Did you hear me? I said you might want to get some curtains for this window…” I looked at him/her and blurted out, “Sorry, I just keep trying to figure out what pronoun to use with you. Are you a boy? A girl? Him? Her?...” She shook her head a little, “Still a newborn. Look, if you meet someone and you aren’t sure, just ask. It’s not crazy. Just ask, what are your preferred pronouns? How would you like me to address you?” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “Go ahead, ask me. Try it…” I swallowed and hesitated, then I did just as he suggested, “What… what are your preferred pronouns?” She smiled and did a curtsey!!! Then she raised the pitch of her voice a little and said, “Thank you for asking. When I’m dressed like little Shelly, I prefer to be a girl and you can use she/ her. Okay?” Then SHE added, “Mommy and I decided, when I wear a pretty bonnet over my hair, I’m she/her. And when my normal haircut is visible, I’m Mikey and it’s he/him.” I nodded and thought for a moment. Yeah, I guess I can understand that. With her hair hidden, and the girly dress. “How about you? Do you want me think of you as a little girl, or a sissy boy that is put into sissy clothes?” she asked. “Why would you… isn’t it obvious the way I’m dressed? I… I like to be Mommy’s little girl….” I replied. “Well, you’re not wearing a wig or anything. You’ve got a typically male haircut. Not that that’s really proof of anything. But I’m just asking to find out,” she replied. “OH! Umm…. Wait right here…” I said as I suddenly realized he was right. I dashed out of the room, down the hall to the bedroom and dug through the drawers until I found the bonnet Mommy had bought to go with this dress. As I tied it over my head, I happened to see myself in Mommy’s vanity mirror. There was that same little girl that Mommy had put makeup on, for Miss Beth’s party. She hadn’t done anything like that since. Without thinking, I reached for the lip gloss and puckered up. I didn’t linger though; I rushed back to the playroom. I was afraid if I stopped to think about it, I’d chicken out. When I got there, Shelly was sitting on the floor, peeking into the box labeled ‘Halloween’. She looked up as I entered the room. I hesitated and asked, “Better?” She smiled and nodded, “Uh huh…. Nows yous looks better. Likes a pwetty gurl, just likes me!” I giggled at her words and dropped to my hands and knees. Crawling over I asked, “Whatcha find? Any candy??” She pulled out some orange and black letters that probably would spell ‘Happy Halloween’ or something. She tossed them aside, “I doesn’t know letters yets…. But I think I sees something…” She found a large dish with a few individually wrapped candies. The sort of thing Mommy might hand out to trick-or-treaters. Shelly suddenly squealed, “CANDY!!!” I giggled and reached, “Can I has some too? Good girls is supposed to share!” Shelly nodded and offered me the dish as she took one for herself and tore open the wrapper. We munched and giggled and I just forgot about the rest of the world. We were two little friends sharing a treasure of chocolates. Between us, we finished it all off. Granted, the stuff must have been months old by now, but it tasted great. I think we each had about six pieces, and wrappers were everywhere. We had just thrown them carelessly aside, giggling and eating. After the last piece was devoured, I looked at Shelly and asked, “You want to see my gaming computer? We’re going to put it in here too.” Shelly nodded, “I have an Xbox and a PlayStation. You want to move yours in here now? I can help.” I felt my face light up a bit. Here was another gamer to play with. Then I remembered something and said, “YEAH! I think I have a long cat 6e cable! I bet it will reach!!” Shelly started to get up as she said, “Cool! Let’s DO IT!!!” We dashed into my home office room and started the process. It only needed a couple of trips, but the cable only just reached a few feet past the door. So we set it up next to the open door for now and soon I logged in, showing Shelly my Warcraft account and the loot I had accumulated. With no furniture, we just sat on the floor in front of the dual-monitor setup, our legs crossed in front of us. Our dresses rode up our legs and I’m sure if Mommy came in, she could see our panties and diapers; but we just played away. After I showed her a couple of things, I handed her the controls and said, “Here, those slime worms are pretty easy, give it a try.” She grinned and took the controller. One worm did slip past her, but she spun her character around and got it. Then she took on some ‘tree trolls’ and I watched her learn about the falling acorn bombs. I sat watching the screen for a moment, then I stared at her. She was engrossed in the game, jiggling the controller a bit as she played. I’m not sure why, but I wanted to know something. And like she had said, just come out and ask… So that’s what I did, I asked her, “You really put that thing on all by yourself? Because you want to?” She glanced at me then back to the screen. A little confused she just asked, “What thing?” “You know… your little house thingy. That chastity cage. You really put it on yourself? Your Mommy doesn’t force you?” I continued. She pushed the pause button and looked at me. She bit her lip and I thought maybe I had been a bit too nosy. I stammered an apology, “I… look, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business…” She took a breath and let it out. Then took in another breath and answered, “Yes. Yes I put it on myself. It’s… it’s partly to feel more girly… but it’s also because I… I have a big problem with premature ejaculation Tammy.” It was obvious that this was difficult for her to talk about. I tried to back out of it by saying, “Look, I’m sorry… It’s just… I’ve only read stories about…. You know, dominant women keeping sex slaves in chastity. Punishing them by not letting them…” She was nodding now, “Yeah, I know. When Sarah first suggested it, that’s what I thought too. But it’s not like that with her and me. It’s…. it’s just that with her sister, and meetups like at Miss Beth’s… I… I never want another woman, or man for that matter, to make me…. You know. Shoot my load. And I go off so fast sometimes that… Well Mommy thought it might help me feel safe. And I do Tammy. I know that no matter how excited I get playing dressup, or how much her sister or their mom tease me… no matter how embarrassed I get, I won’t climax with my little house in place.” I looked at her and whispered, “You… you get excited when you’re teased and humiliated too? I thought it was just me…” She nodded and went on to explain, “Yeah, that’s a part of it. But I’ve been AB for years. At first I kept it secret, hidden from Sarah. But she figured it out and has been really nice about it. In fact, she likes being my mommy now. And to be honest, she likes our form of having sex now. Tammy, I’ve never been very much endowed and… And I can’t really please a woman with what I have between my legs. But as little Mikey, or Shelly, we both enjoy our own form of sex a lot.” Just then there was a tap on the door as Miss Sarah peeked in and asked, “How are you two getting along? I hope Tammy isn’t giving anybody a black eye.” I blushed at the reference to my night at Miss Beth’s. When I got into a fight with Jimmy and gave him a shiner. But it cost me a blistered bottom in her woodshed. Shelly answered first, “We is good Mommy. See? We gots Tammy’s pooter in here and she showed me a game.” I blushed a little but saw Miss Sarah’s face light up with a smile similar to how Mommy smiles at me. She cooed, “Oooo…. Neato! Well Miss Carole wants to know what you’d like on your pizza darling?” Totally spontaneously, Shelly and I both shouted at the exact same time our excitement, “PIZZA!!! YAAHHHH!!!!” Miss Sarah laughed and grinned. Then I shouted, “Everything!! Pepperoni, sausage, peppers, ham, onions… THE WORKS!!!” Miss Sarah looked at me with a side glance, “Even anchovies????” Shelly answered, “EWWWW!!!! NO!!! NO FISHES AND NO GREEN YUCKY STUFF!!” Miss Sarah put a finger to her lips as she said, “Shhh sweetie…. Use your inside voice.” Then she looked at me and asked, “Would leaving off the green peppers and onions be okay sweetie? My little girl doesn’t like those.” I nodded deeply and replied, “Otay… no fishes and no green yucky stuff… For Shelly.” Miss Sarah smiled at me and praised me, “Such a nice friend. That’s so sweet of you Tammy. Your Mommy is lucky to have such a kind little darling as you.” I squirmed a little at her praise. And I felt my cock twinge at being smiled at and praised for being sweet. That’s when I realized my diaper was wet. The stuffer and diaper could hold a lot more, but at some point in time while playing with Shelly, I had wet. As Miss Sarah headed back downstairs, the realization that I have lost some level of control made me wonder. And since Shelly had been pretty straight-forward with me so far, I came out and asked her, “Do you wear diapers all the time? Do… do you know when you’re wetting yourself?” She had picked up the controller again and un-paused the game. I glanced at the screen, her character was running over an open field, and I knew it would take several minutes to reach the cave with the poisonous bladder-beast. But she answered rather casually, “Nah, some days I get to be ‘big’. Like working in the yard and going out to dinner or dancing. Why?” Come on Tom, he’s shared a lot about his experiences, just tell him. “Well because… I’ve lost some of my potty-training. Up until a couple of months ago, it was fine. But since Mommy started putting me in diapers…” She paused the game and looked at me, “Really? A lot of us that play at being little, we’re not that way. Well, some of us are, but it’s usually because of some medical thing. You know, they can’t help being incontinent.” I was blushing and looked down at my bare legs as she asked, “You… you really just up and started wetting? Just because your mommy put you in diapers again? Do you have any control at all?” I shrugged, not looking up at her. I tried to explain it, “I… I have some. Most of the time I know I have to, and I just let it go into my diaper. But sometimes, like when Miss Beth scares me, or… or like when I’m being spanked… it just happens. And I don’t even know it.” I saw a little motion through the corner of my downturned gaze, then I felt her arms around me, giving me a hug. I didn’t even think about her being another man, I reached my arms around her and hugged tight for several seconds. Then her arms fell away and I let go of her as well. She whispered, “It’s okay, you have a mommy that loves you and takes care of you. It’s just who you are. And that’s fine with me. You’re a good friend to have Tammy.” Then she picked up the controller and ran her character head first into the blatter-beast cave. I wiped my wet eyes and whispered, “Thanks, you’re a good friend too.” Then I giggled when her character was killed by the first bug that exploded from one of the large egg-shaped bladders. “Oh MAN!!!” she cried out. I giggled some more and told her, “Serves you right, running headfirst everywhere. The trick with those is to tip-toe up on them and strike before they know you’re there, while they’re still dormant in their bladder.” As her character respawned outside the cave, she handed me the controller and I demonstrated my technique. … Some time later I heard the doorbell but ignored it. Shelly and I were having too much fun in our game. But within a minute, Miss Sarah appeared in the doorway again. This time holding a large pink diaper. She started right in by saying, “Pause your game sweeties… and Shelly it’s time for your diaper to be changed.” I had the controller at the moment, so I saved our progress and turned off the game. Shelly was looking a bit red in the face as her mommy pointed to any open spot on the floor, saying, “Right there sweetie. I don’t want you leaking on Miss Carole’s furniture.” I stared in silence as Shelly crawled to the spot and rolled onto her back. Her hands tugged at her dress, pulling it up to reveal her diaper. It was pretty obvious that she needed a change. But as her mommy knelt between her legs, her hands shot to the front of her diaper and she whispered, “Can you make Tammy leave Mommy?” I squirmed and felt embarrassed for her. But her mommy simply said, “Now sweetie, it’s no different than being changed in front of your cousin Sammy. Now be a good girl and behave.” Nuuu… Sammy is a real girl and even though Shelly has TOLD me about things…. It’s another matter for me to SEE… RIP… RIP… Like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car, I couldn’t take my eyes away as Miss Sarah proceeded to tear open the tapes of Shelly’s diaper. I barely noticed that Shelly had moved her hands up by her ears. Her face was turned away from me, as if not seeing me, she could pretend I wasn’t staring. I heard Miss Carole talking softly, just like my Mommy sometimes talks to me, “Goodness… just in time I think. Lift up for me sweetie…” I stared, it was pink and my god was it SMALL!! Shelly had told me it wasn’t very big, but… It couldn’t be more than two inches! It jiggled a little as Miss Sarah shimmied the fresh diaper under her bottom. Then I felt my eyes widen when she actually grabbed the little pink tube and wiggle it as she asked, “Everything okay with your little clitty? All safe in her little house?” I saw her nod her head once. “What’s that sweetie? I can’t hear head nodding. Is your little clitty nice and happy in her little house? Use your words sweetie,” she asked again, this time tugging at it to the point that Shelly lifted her hips as her Mommy pulled. This time I heard her whisper, “Yeth Mommy… my c…clitty is all nice and safes.” The effect was immediate. Miss Sarah let go and Shelly’s hips dropped back down onto the fresh diaper. Miss Sarah was quick to praise as she pulled the diaper up between her legs, “GOOD GIRL!!! Mommy likes when her baby girl uses her words! That’s Mommy’s little angle!!” As Miss Sarah finished and helped Shelly to stand up, gathering up the used diaper, I realized my hand was squeezing between my own legs. The image of that tiny cage and her gently teasing her to ‘use her words’. Something about what I just saw, had my own ‘clitty’ tingling. “Come along now Tammy, time for dinner,” Echoed in my ears. I looked up and Miss Sarah was extending a hand to help me up. … When we got to the kitchen, the small table had four places set, two with wine glasses opposite each other, and two with sippy cups between the first. It was obvious that Shelly and I would be sitting across from each other as we ate. Mommy’s voice from the other side of the counter, “Have a seat girls, I’m just warming up the garlic bread strips.” Shelly and I scurried to our seats. I was thirsty so I reached with both hands for my sippy cup. I grinned when I saw Shelly do the same. Our mommies have us both well-trained. Giggle As Shelly set hers down again, she smacked her lips and said a loud, “Ahhhhhh”. Miss Sarah had the pizza box next to her and took my plate to put a slice on it. As she set it back down in front of me, I reached right away for the slice as I said, “Thank you Miss Sarah.” Just then, Mommy set down the plate of bread strips and beamed that wonderful smile at me, “Very nice manners Tammy. Mommy’s proud of you.” I felt myself blush a little as I took my first bite. Soon we were all munching away. Shelly spoke once with her mouth full, “Yumm.. an no ucky geen suffs.” I giggled, but Miss Sarah softly admonished her, “Try not to talk with your mouthful sweetie.” Then Mommy paused and looked at me. She didn’t say a word for a moment, and I thought I had done something wrong. I swallowed and felt a twinge as a spurt of pee hit my diaper. I gulped and asked, “Is… is something wrong Mommy??” Her face softened and she giggled as she broke into a smile, “No sweetie… nothings wrong. But I’m SURE I hadn’t put that lipstick on you after I paddled your bottom.” Shelly let out a giggle as I felt my face burning red. I glared at her for a moment, then looked at Miss Sarah as she chuckled once. Mommy’s voice came soft and tender as she reached and held my hand, “It’s okay this time sweetie. But not so much next time. Mommy will show you how and get you some of your own.” My… my own makeup? F…for Tammy? Why did my cock just twitch??? Miss Sarah chimed in, “The local Walgreen’s has some just right for little ones. Playful colors like bubble-gum pink.” To that, Mommy shifted her eyes to Miss Sarah as she said, “Oh, good idea. We’ll have to go shopping there sometime.” Then her eyes turned to look at me again, “Not for every day mind you sweetie, but maybe just a little makeup for parties and playdates.” I tried to explain, “It… it was Shelly’s idea. She… she said I didn’t look like a girl enough without my bonnet. So I… I just thought if I…” But Mommy gave my hand a squeeze and said, “Shh.. shh… I’ve told you sweetie, as long as I get to be your Mommy, it doesn’t matter. Now, eat your dinner.” I nodded a little as she let go of my hand. I reached for the last of my pizza slice and chewed quietly. Miss Sarah spoke next, “Well I for one am glad to see these two hitting it off so well. Shelly needs some other girlfriends besides her cousin. Little Mikey has had a couple play dates with other little boys, but Shelly has been reluctant.” Then Mommy and Miss Sarah started talking over Shelly and myself. They left us out of the conversation for the most part, although we were the subject of their conversation. Mommy told Miss Sarah where she bought my diapers, and how much they cost. Miss Sarah nodded and thought that was a good price. But she liked to buy some online because of the pretty patterns they came in. Then Shelly picked up her plate and offered it to her mommy, asking, “Mommy? Can I have some more pizza?” Miss Sarah stopped what she was saying and smiled at Shelly. She reached for the plate saying, “Of course sweetie…. Here we go…” Then she turned to me and asked, “How about you Tammy? Would you like another slice?” I nodded and handed her my plate. After we both finished our second piece, Shelly spoke up again, “Mommy? Can we be excused? Tammy was showing me a neat game and I wanna go play some more.” As Miss Sarah nodded and said, “Of course dear…” I looked over at Mommy. She grinned and waved her hand as she too spoke, “Go ahead, but just for a little while….” Shelly and I raced back upstairs. Just as Shelly plopped down in front of my make-shift computer setup, she let out a loud burp. She giggled and put her hand over her mouth and said, “ ‘scuse me!” Rather than say anything, I just let out a burp of my own. Then we reloaded the game where we left off and started playing. At one point, just as she smashed open a treasure chest, she mentioned, “Mommy got me a girl video game. All unicorns and sparkles. I hated it.” I giggled and replied, “Yeah, jus cuz we’re girls, don’t mean we like unicorns. I rather fight MONSTERS!!” “YEAH!!!” But it wasn’t too long when Mommy’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs, “Tammy?? It’s time for your friend to go home. Shut off your game now.” I felt my shoulders sag, “Aw Mommy….” Wrong thing to say. Mommy’s voice changed tone slightly. She wasn’t mad, but… “Tammy! Don’t make me come up there.” “Okay Mommy, down in a second.” Again, that feeling of time pressure. There was more I wanted to talk to Shelly about, but she was about to leave. She saved our game and got up, so I rose with her but that little bit of panic again. Act! Do something before it’s too late!!! I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the home office. I quickly found a piece of paper and pen. Pushing it in front of Shelly, I whispered, “Give me your email... your personal one. So we can… can talk sometime.” She didn’t seem to react much, but she scribbled it out, just adding, “That’s a capital M.” I looked and nodded. Then I said, “emails aren’t case-sensitive, if you didn’t know. Just passwords.” “SHELLY!!!” Now it was her mom’s voice. We both knew we were on thin ice, so we left it at that and hurried downstairs. Miss Sarah was standing by the door as we tumbled down the steps like a herd of elephants. Then Miss Sarah spoke, “There you are. That must be SOME GAME!?!? Now, be a good girl and say good night to Miss Carole.” I watched, blushing a little as Shelly curtseyed towards my Mommy saying, “Good night Miss Carole, thanks for letting us visit.” Mommy smiled gently at her, “You’re very welcome. It was a pleasure to have you.” There was the tiniest of pauses and I felt my knees bending gently of their own accord as I heard my own voice, “Good night, Miss Sarah… please come again.” Suddenly there were three pairs of eyes smiling at me as I felt my face flush. The next thing I knew, Mommy was closing the door behind them and smiling at me. She came to me and hugged me tightly. Then a whisper in my ear, “You did terrific sweetie. Mommy’s so proud… Your first playdate.” I nuzzled against her shoulder and hugged her back for several seconds. Then she loosened her grip and held me at arms’ length. She winked as she said, “We’ll work on the makeup and curtsey a little. But now it’s time for jamies and your baba.” … Soon I was in a fresh diaper, a T-shirt and laying in Mommy’s lap with the nipple of my bottle in my mouth. My eyes were drifting shut as Mommy watched our shows. Then it was time for bed. As I snuggled under the covers, Mommy undressed and climbed in with me, topless. In the dark her hand reached as her voice whispered, “Come here little one… you deserve this for being so good this evening…” I felt her nipple against my lips and instantly latched on. As her fingers brushed through my now exposed hair, she whispered, “I think we both made some new friends tonight. Sarah seems rather nice. And if I’m not mistaken, Tammy enjoyed playing with her little Shelly.” I nodded gently, not wanting to release her nipple from my lips. The last thing I remember was Mommy kissing my forehead and saying, “Sweet dreams little one… tomorrow it’s back to Monday.” To Be Continued

Okay, here's the next chapter. Hope it was worth the wait for those that have been so patient. Chapter 40 We both slept in a bit later than usual. As I rolled over, I felt Mommy still laying close to me and I lifted a leg to drape over hers as my arm reached to pull her close. As I pressed myself against her, I could tell my diaper was wet. But it hadn’t leaked so I was good with that. Mommy will take care of it when we get up. Mommy loves taking care of me. I felt her shift and her hand gently touching my shoulder as she whispered, “morning sweetie.” I hadn’t opened my eyes, but I nodded gently, “morning Mommy.” Then her hand left my shoulder and gently brushed my cheek. Then it disappeared and I felt her shifting. As I opened my eyes, she was turning to look at the clock. Then her arm swung back around again to lay over me and pull me close. She smiled as she spoke, “Almost nine thirty, would you like a nice breakfast this morning?” I returned her smile and answered, “Don’t go to a lot of trouble, it’s Sunday, we deserve a day off.” She leaned to kiss my cheek and lay back again, “It may be Sunday, but that means Tammy has to help with chores.” Even now, two weeks after my ‘coming out’ at Beth’s party, the sudden mention of my ‘little girl’ side made me blush. I lowered my chin and nodded as I nuzzled against Mommy’s night gown. After a moment, Mommy whispered, “It’s okay sweetie… Do you need Mommy to force you? So you can fool yourself into thinking it’s not really your choice?” That’s what it would be though… just a way to lie to myself. Mommy knows how happy and carefree I get when I’m little Tammy. But it’s still difficult to just…. Just let myself go. Her voice interrupted my thoughts as her hand held my head to her bosom and she spoke softly, “Sweetie? Do you want me to get the spoon? Do you think a good spanking will make it easier to become little Tammy?” I squirmed and felt my cock starting to strain in my diaper. Being ‘pushed’…. ‘playing dressup’… Or even the spanking?? Jack gets off on spankings, but whenever Mommy spanks me, my dick ends up the size of an acorn. Has Mommy conditioned me that much? Or…. Or is the idea of submitting to her will…. Yes, I do as Mommy says… I’m a good boy…. Or girl…. Suddenly Mommy flung the covers off and started to get up. I watched as she headed to the bathroom. I heard her voice echo a little against the tile as she called out, “after breakfast sweetie… one way or another we have to clean around the house this morning.” I got up and straightened the bed covers, then headed towards the stairs without saying a word. I got to the kitchen and decided on orange juice and frozen waffles. I was just sitting down when Mommy came into the kitchen. She was fully dressed. Nothing fancy, just some relaxing jeans and top. As she popped a waffle of her own into the toaster, she casually said, “Maybe if you spent more time in pretty dresses, it wouldn’t be so hard for you?” I squirmed in my soggy diaper as she came to sit with me, bringing her own plate and utensils. I started to protest feebly, “but you said Sunday was the only day I HAD to…” She nodded as her knife sliced up her waffle, “That’s true, I did say that. And I’m not going back on my word. I just thought if you wanted to be ‘Tammy’ and all that, you might find it easier the more we do that.” She took a bite and chewed as I sat watching her. As she swallowed, she went on to say, “Sweetheart, I told you before. It doesn’t matter to me, so long as I’m your Mommy and you let Mommy take care of you.” I managed to stammer a little, “I… I know that Mommy. I… I guess the idea of…. You know, years of upbringing and all that. It’s sometimes hard to admit it to myself.” She nodded as she chewed. After she swallowed, she asked, “Harder than being a little crybaby in diapers? You seem to have accepted that pretty well. When you grew up, did you think being a ‘sissy’ was worse than being a crybaby?” Just as I was about to say something, her phone went off. She held up a finger to me to wait a minute while she answered. //// “Hello?” “Oh, hi there, what’s up?” “After lunch? Hmmm, let me think…” In that moment she paused and her eyes stared right at me. I suddenly knew she was thinking something over in her mind and it involved ME! “How about three? Then you and Shelly can stay for dinner if you’d like?” “Oh, I’m sure she’d love to see her little friend Shelly. No, I don’t need to check, she does what Mommy says.” “Wonderful! And if Shelly brings her dollies, I’m sure the two of them can have some fun while we talk.” “Okay, see you then. Bye now…” ///// After she put down her phone she smiled and sipped her orange juice. As she put the glass down, she picked up her knife and fork and resumed eating. Just as she cut off another bite, she said, “Well that’s settled then. Sarah is bringing her little Shelly over for a play date with Tammy. So, you’ll be wearing your prettiest outfit this afternoon. Period.” Mommy decided… Mommy makes the decisions… Part of me was relieved not to have to decide for myself. And part of me felt a little happy that I would have a play date. But as I felt my diaper growing warm, I heard myself whimper a little and I stared down at my empty plate. I didn’t look up as I whispered, “Yes Mommy.” After breakfast, I was changed and as I stood still, Mommy helped me into my ‘little helper’ outfit and I helped Mommy with the chores. I don’t mind doing a bit of housework and tidying up. Mommy said it was important to clean and vacuum for ‘company’. She worked right along with me though, I wasn’t her slave or maid, I was “Mommy’s Little Helper”. Just as it said on the front of my apron-dress. We had risen so late, neither of us was very hungry at lunch so I just had a piece of fruit and Mommy had some cheese and sausage bits. As I put our plates on the kitchen counter, Mommy took my hand as she spoke, “Come with me Tammy, I want to ask your opinion.” We headed upstairs again and instead of heading towards the bedroom or my office, she turned a one-eighty and towards the storeroom. It was over the garage, and some might call it the ‘bonus room’. Because of the roof, it was a bit narrower than the garage and had ‘knee walls’ that met with the sloped ceiling on each side. Still holding my hand, Mommy looked around and spoke, “I’ve always regretted letting this fill up with junk. Most of this stuff I haven’t touched in years. How about if we cleared this away and made it into a nursery or playroom? It has that window, facing the street for some natural light. I think we can run the fiber network in here for your gaming. What would you think?” I looked around. Some of the boxes were labeled ‘Christmas’, ‘Halloween’, or ‘Easter’. Undoubtedly some decorations. One said ‘college’. But all-in-all, there were only about six boxes in an otherwise bare room. “You… you want me to clear this all out now? Before they get here?” I asked. Mommy tilted her head back and laughed a little. She went on to explain, “No… no you silly goose! Not right now! But if we have others come over for playdates, I thought it might be nice to have a playroom. It’s already carpeted and with an internet connection, you could do your gaming nights in here as well.” I looked around again and thought some more. Then I nodded, “yeah! This could be a great playroom.” Then Mommy pointed, “We could put your old bed over there for naptime? Or maybe get a real changing table for when someone needs their diaper changed. We can start on it this week after work. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much.” I looked around, trying to imagine where my gaming computer could go, and where to put a toy box when Mommy gripped my upper arm and gently tugged. As I turned to look at her, she had a smile on her face as she said, “But before our guests arrive…. I think it’s time my little girl helped me with one more thing.” With that she turned me back towards the door and gave my bottom a soft pat. I was pretty sure I knew what Mommy had in mind, and my cock leapt to attention as her hand on my bottom guided me back down the hall to the bedroom. Mommy stopped me near the foot of the bed and pointed to the floor. “Sit sweetie, while Mommy gets ready for you to do one last chore for me.” I started to sit on the edge of the bed when she corrected me, “No no sweetie…. Be a good little girl and sit on the floor.” I bent my knees and lowered myself as I stared at her. She was already shimmying out of her jeans and panties. My hand reached between my legs as her top came off and I realized she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Then without saying a word, she turned to face the bed and bent over. At the same time, she spread her feet apart. Suddenly, all I saw was the backs of her legs forming an inverted ‘V’, with her gorgeous butt on top and the trimmed hair of her pussy between her thighs. With her elbows on the bed, her head turned towards me as she said, “And no playing with your little clitty until you’ve made Mommy cum.” Well already my cock was straining as I stared. One minute we were talking about a house project, the next I’m staring at her pussy, expected to make her climax. No wonder she wanted me on the floor. Her hips wiggled side to side slightly as she raised her voice, “Well? Or does Tammy need to go over my lap with the spoon?” I leaned forward onto my hands, face raised as I leaned into her crotch. Her scent filled my head as I extended my tongue and tasted the first of her wetness. As my tongue licked the full length of her slit, she whispered, “That’s a good girl…. Tammy is a good little girl for Mommy.” I blushed but nodded. When my tongue found her rosebud between her cheeks, I barely hesitated. Lifting my face briefly away, I whispered back, “Yes Mommy… I’m a good little girl…” The loss of contact made her wiggle her hips again and whisper, “Oooo…. Be a good girl and keep doing all of that…” I repeated the motion several more times. Each time I could taste more of her wetness and she shivered. Her scent was getting stronger every second and soon my hand was pushing up the front of my ‘little helper’ dress and rubbing my diaper. She must have heard, or perhaps my attention faltered, but suddenly in a loud voice, “Tammy! I meant it! No touching your SISSY CLIT until you make me cum! Do I need to get the spoon?” I blanched at the sudden sternness in her voice. My hand jerked away from my diaper and I whispered, “N…no Mommy.” Then my face pushed back into her intimate place and I licked faster. I heard her moan a little as my tongue pushed inside her. Then seeming to be talking to herself, I heard her mutter, “I swear, I’m going to have to get you a good paddle.” Paddle?!?! As in…. they hurt more than…. Would she really use a big wooden paddle? My mind lurched back to being strapped over that spanking horse in Miss Beth’s woodshed. The sting of….” Mommy’s hips pushed backwards at my face as I heard in my ears, “TAMMY!!! Put your hands on my butt so I know where they are!” I did as she said, taking each of the firm globes in a hand and focused on my assigned ‘chore’. From that point on, I concentrated on my ‘chore’. Soon I heard Mommy’s breath growing faster and a few lustful groans as I licked. My cock was straining and I’m sure it was leaking pre-cum as I smelled her scent and felt her hips bucking against my grip. Mommy leaned back as she must have laid her chest on the bed, thrusting her pussy towards my face. She was close, and I was getting desperate. I paused for a moment in my licking to whimper as plead softly, “Please Mommy? Can I play with it now?” I felt sure that she was close enough to her own orgasm that she would consent and I slipped my right hand from holding her ass cheek. Then she shivered and started climaxing as I gripped the front of my diaper. I lapped at her wetness the way she always liked as my diaper started crinkling from my hand. Then her knees folded and dropped to the floor, lowering her hips away from me. I rubbed my aching cock as she finally straightened up, one arm sweeping her hair back as she twisted her torso to look at me. “Did Mommy say you could play with your clitty?” I was too close to stop, but I whimpered as she stared into my eyes. The thought flashed into my mind that I was about to get a spanking and that sent me over the edge. Right in front of her I fell forward a little and spasmed, squirting cum into my diaper as Mommy watched. She didn’t say another word as she stood up and picked up her clothes. I fell forward against the foot of the bed gasping as she stepped back into her panties and jeans. Still without a word she opened one of her drawers and found a bra to wear and finished dressing. Finally, she came towards me and pulled my hand from between my legs, still gripping my softening cock through the padding. As she helped pull me up onto my feet, all she said was, “Kitchen Missy. Now!” I felt my lips starting to pout as she led me down the stairs and through the house to the kitchen. I was started to blubber and whine as we entered, “Bu…bu Mommy… I… I couldn’t help it… it… it’s not fair….” That same quite calmness as the night in the woodshed. She didn’t scold or role play some ‘scene’ or game. She positioned me facing the counter peninsula and pushed between my shoulders. I reached for the far side of the counter as I bent over. She pushed up the back of my dress. As she tugged at my diaper, I tried again, “Please Mommy…. I’ll…. I’ll be a good girl… I …. I didn’t mean to play with it… I… It just wanted it so b…bad….” I heard the drawer open and the rattle of utensils as she found it. In that same calm voice that is almost scarier than if she were yelling, “I would have let you in a minute. I wanted to watch my baby girl doing it. But you disobeyed.” I felt the round end against one cheek as she added, “And disobeying Mommy is one thing that get’s you a spanking.” THWACK! Even though I’ve been spanked many times now, I still jerk and yelp at the first strike. THWACK! “Maybe we’ll have to make this a weekly thing. To remind you…” THWACK! “B…but Mommy….” THWACK! “Don’t you DARE question me. It’s my decision. You know you’ve earned this. You were naughty and disobeyed, didn’t you?” THWACK! …. My silence must not have been the right thing. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! “You WERE NAUGHTY AND DISOBEYED ME!!! DIDN’T YOU????” THWACK! “YES…. Yes Mommy…. I… I’m sorry I… I’m sorry I was n..n..naughty.” “And this is what happens to naughty little girls that disobey.” THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! My knuckles were turning white as I gripped the counter tightly. I felt tears streaming down my face. But the clatter of the spoon landing on the counter told me it was over. Then two tender kisses, one on each burning cheek. Then my diaper was pulled back up. As Mommy adjusted it I realized it was wet. Once again, I had wet myself without knowing it. Mommy helped me to stand up and turned me around to hug me as I sniffled and whimpered in a whisper, “I… I’m sorry Mommy…” She palmed my head to lay against her shoulder as she whispered in my ear, “I know little one… I know. I think you disobey on purpose when you need me to warm your bottom… It’s okay… Mommy loves you just the same.” I nodded a little as she gently rubbed my back. Did I? Did I deliberately disobey? No… I was just so horny…. I… I didn’t really disobey because I WANTED a spanking?? Or maybe… My thoughts were interrupted by Mommy gently pushing me away a little and saying, “Now, we need to get you dressed for company, then it’s corner time for you.” I blinked and wiped my eyes as she smiled at me. Then she added, “And I’m pretty sure my little princess needs her diaper changed.” She led me back up the stairs again and helped me out of my ‘little helper’ dress and had me lay on the bed. As she hung up my dress and got out the pretty party one, she spoke in a rather carefree and cheerful tone. As if my having my bottom spanked was completely forgotten, “How about one of your thick diapers and a stuffer sweetie. That way Mommy won’t have to change her baby tinkle-pants in front of company?” I gulped at the thought as she walked over to where I lay, a bright smile on her face as she added, “Of course, maybe miss tinkle-pants would like that? I bet Sarah would get a kick out of seeing your little clitty getting all hard while Mommy changed you.” She unfolded the extra absorbent diaper and giggled as she slid it under my hips. Then as she slid in the stuffer, she teased a little, “Not like the limp little thing you have right now. Honestly, it gets so small when you get a spanking…” She gently lifted my cock a little and then brought the doubly thick diaper up between my legs to tape me up. Her touch had been gentle and caring, the padding seemed to lie flat between my legs. Yes, between just having cum, and being spanked to the point of tears, my cock seems to have shriveled up to hide. After slipping my party dress over my shoulders and buttoning up the back, Mommy told me to stand still for a moment. As she went to the dresser she seemed a bit proud of herself as she spoke, “And I picked out these for my darling last week. I thought they’d go nicely with that dress.” I stared as she unfolded some shiny pink thing. White trim and then she opened up a waistband as she knelt and told me, “Pretty panties for a pretty princess. Put your foot in sweetie…” I felt my face turning as red as my butt felt as I lifted my first foot. “And now the other….” As I felt elastic leg openings sliding up my thighs, Mommy explained, “I made sure to get a larger size, to fit over your fat diapers sweetie… these will hold everything nice and snug.” Her fingers were circling around each thigh, pushing the elastic leg openings snug and as high as they would go, then tugging up the waistband. Her hand rubbed back and forth against my stinging bottom as she grinned up at me, “And plenty of cute ruffles for Tammy’s cute bottom!!” If there had been any pee in my bladder, I’m sure I would have wet my fresh diaper. But before I could say a word, Mommy kissed my cheek and grabbed my hand. She said simply, “Now, corner time for my naughty girl.” But instead of having me stand in the corner of the bedroom, she led me back down the stairs into the living room and the corner just opposite the front door. As she positioned me to face the corner and pushed me into the corner a little farther than was comfortable, she said simply, “Now, you stay right there until company comes. Then Miss Sarah and little Shelly can see what happens in this house to little ones that disobey their mommy.” I heard her walking away towards the kitchen as she added, “Now I’m going to put on some coffee and get a snack ready. Don’t you move or I’ll paddle your bottom again, understand?” I felt as small as I ever had. I was Mommy’s naughty girl and soon Miss Sarah and Shelly would know too. I reached and put a hand on my bottom and felt the extra material. Aren’t these what they call rhumba panties? The ultimate sissy panties? Mommy bought these, planning on me wearing them at some point… M…Mommy decides even what I wear a lot of the time now… Her voice from the kitchen broke in on my thoughts, “Tammy, I asked you if you understood.” I nodded my head and answered her, “Yes Mommy, I understand.” The house was quiet now, except one small clatter of a teacup from the kitchen. I wanted to be a good girl, so I kept my face to the corner as Mommy had instructed. But I was curious and tried to imagine what my bottom must look like. I reached back with both hands and started gently rubbing my bottom. There seemed to be about three rows of material. And rubbing seemed to help my bottom feel better. Not that I could feel much through the thick padding. “I’m just going up to change sweetie, stay right there, even if they ring the doorbell. I’ll answer it.” I heard Mommy going quickly up the stairs. She might have had me answer the doorbell? But no, she wants me on display like this. Let them see me and know that I’ve been spanked for …. For being a bad little girl. Was it already three o’clock? It was just after lunch when we first went upstairs. When she stripped naked and presented herself to me… I… I might have been able to ‘switch’ her and plunge my cock into that waiting pussy, taken her and played lord of the manor, having my way with the innocent servant girl. But I hadn’t even tried. I stayed the obedient little girl, doing what Mommy said… Until I disobeyed. Another man would have taken what men want… But… But I did what Mommy wanted, until I disobeyed. And even then, I could have struggled but not me. No, I’m just a little pantywaist and let her paddle my butt until I was crying… I… I’m just the little crybaby that Mommy said… DING! DONG!!! They’re HERE!!! Oh gosh…. Damit!!! STOP WETTING YOURSELF!!! It’s… it’s just… DING! DONG!!! I heard Mommy approaching the top of the stairs, “Coming!!! Be right there!!!” I managed to clench and stop the flow into my diaper as I heard Mommy quickly descending the stairs. Then just before the door opened, “Stay in that corner Missy until I say. Or you know what will happen.” Then the door swung open and Mommy squealed out a “HI THERE!!!! Come on in!!!” Then a voice I recognized as Miss Sarah from Miss Beth’s party spoke, “Hi!! So glad we can do this. Little Shelly was so glad to meet another ‘little’ that likes to play dress up.” Then her tone changed a little, “Shelly sweetie? Aren’t you going to say hello to Miss Carole?” There was a pause and then, “Hello Miss Carole.” There was a pause and then I heard Miss Sarah, “Oh oh… is someone having a timeout in the corner?” I heard Mommy close the door as she answered, “Yes, she had a little trouble doing as Mommy told her, so she got her bottom warmed and is having a little timeout to think about that. Won’t you sit down?” There was some movement, then I heard the voices moving across the room as Miss Sarah quipped, “Seems Tammy and Shelly have a LOT in common. You get your little botty paddled too don’t you Shelly.” There was a soft reply, “Yes Mommy. When I’m naughty… or every Thursday.” I felt like almost dying when they came in but hearing that Shelly gets it too… somehow made me feel a little better. I’m not the only grown man in the world that gets spanked by his ‘mommy’. Then Miss Sarah spoke, “Shelly’s aunt Julia got a nice strong paddle for her. We hang it in the nursery and it does wonders for Shelly’s behavior.” Mommy seemed a bit too interested, “Every Thursday? Even if she’s been a good girl?” I wasn’t sure I liked the direction this conversation was going… “Oh yes. Thursday is ‘maintenance day’ for us. Even if little Mikey or Shelly has been good, I give him or her a few swats every Thursday. Just a sort of reminder that he’s the little and I’m the mommy.” “Interesting…” was Mommy’s reaction to the news. “And how often do you let her be Mikey and how often do you treat her as Shelly?” was her next question. There was a pause, then Miss Sarah said, “What would you say dear? About fifty-fifty? But understand Carole, we don’t have a set rule about that. And we don’t even stay Mommy and little all the time. We enjoy going out and doing things as a couple. Usually, I let him decide if he wants to wear a dress and play Shelly.” “Hmm… and that chastity thing? Do you make him wear that a lot?” I heard a giggle, then Miss Sarah answered, “Oh heavens no. Half the time he puts it on all by himself. Especially when he’s feeling ‘little girl’. Or when we visit my sister and her Sammy. Sammy has a thing about that.” “Really!!... Shelly is that true? You put it on all by yourself? Are you locked up today?” There was a pause, I can only imagine the expression on each of their faces. Then I heard him in a soft voice, “Yes Miss Carole… It sort of helps me play little girl. Little girls don’t have…. Don’t have… “ Miss Sarah interrupted, “Remember to use your little words sweetie…. If you use a vulgar word Mommy will have to spank.” Then in an even softer voice, “Yes Mommy…. Little girls don’t have peepees Miss Carole… I like to have it… safe in its little house.” I could hear the pride in Miss Sarah’s voice as she added, “That’s what we call it. On account of Mikey’s peepee is so small. It fits into his ‘little house’ and stays nice and safe from embarrassing him.” There was silence for a moment, then Mommy called out, “Tammy dear, I think your time is up. Why don’t you take little Shelly upstairs and show her the new playroom.” I turned around and saw Mommy and Miss Sarah sitting on the couch; ‘Little Shelly’ sitting on the floor in front of Miss Sarah. Mommy had changed into a modest dress. Like the modest housewife, entertaining company. Then Miss Sarah stroked the bonnet on Shelly’s head as she spoke gently, “Go ahead sweetie, run along now. Mommy will be here if you need me.” Shelly got up and came towards me, for a moment I was worried he would reach and hold my hand. Just as Shelly reached me, Mommy added, “Maybe Shelly can help you move your video game computer? Us mommies have a lot to talk about, so you two have fun now.” Well, that made it pretty clear, we were to get out from underfoot. And that suited me just fine. I turned to lead the way upstairs when I heard Miss Sarah call out, “Nice panties by the way Tammy…” Then the two women laughed for a moment as I started running up the stairs. To Be Continued.

Yep, after eleven plus years of sleeping in diapers I’ve become a regular if not chronic bed-wetter. Not complaining, it’s what I wanted.

Chapter 6: Seeds of Doubt The last thing my mom said to me, just before turning out the lights in my nursery, was, “You did this to yourself, Reggie.” Her calm, factual words hit me hard as I met her gaze with pleading eyes. I just couldn't believe that someone who cared for me could leave me feeling so powerless and isolated. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience, something I allowed to happen; simply because there was nothing else I could do. Anger simmered inside me, but I couldn’t respond. I kept asking myself: why is she doing this? What is her goal? After feeding and burping me, she took me to the nursery for bedtime. I’m sure, if she could, she would have carried me, but fortunately, I’m too big to be carried. Still, a sense of helplessness lingered, making it that much harder to accept. In a final charade of care, my mom pulled the blankets over me and kissed me gently on the forehead. If circumstances had been different, that gesture might have brought comfort or happiness. Instead, it only underscored the reality of my situation. Rather than offering true comfort like a loving mother, her actions were a clear demonstration of authority, making it clear that I was completely under her control for the foreseeable future. I wanted to blame her for all of this, and then she uttered those words. “You did this to yourself.” Those words placed a seed of doubt in my mind that continued to haunt me until the day that we were finally rescued. In fact, in times of weakness, those words still haunt me to this day. As I lay in the nursery, I wondered if it was my fault. I blamed Mom for putting me back in diapers, but she didn’t make me wet my pants. I could’ve used the bathroom, especially on the plane. Instead, I was lazy, and used my Pull-up. If I had changed it before we left, I wouldn’t have leaked, and things might have turned out differently. My mom’s words also made me wonder about my life in New York; it was a disaster. I didn’t take care of myself. Instead of being responsible, I let things slide and neglected my basic needs. Although I was technically an adult, I didn’t act like one. Ultimately, it didn’t matter who’s fault it was. I was trapped in the nursery with no idea how long I'd be there. Her words, “We might try again, if I think you’re ready” haunted me. The last time I took a break from potty training was when I was fourteen years old. We were on a ski trip, and I had too many accidents. That time she made me wear diapers for a whole month. This felt more threatening, and I worried it might last even longer. Taking a break from potty training meant exactly what it sounded like: I had to use diapers for everything, with no exceptions. I wasn’t allowed to be alone, and nobody would take me to the potty. Whenever I asked to be changed, Mom put a pacifier in my mouth, making it clear that asking was pointless. As a result, I stopped asking altogether. The expectation was clear: I was supposed to use my diaper and then wait until someone checked it. Over time, I learned to stop thinking about it. Eventually, Mom would decide when it was time for me to be potty trained. She would lead me to a potty chair, the same kind that Kristy used, and then told me to use the potty. Each success was carefully charted and celebrated, often with treats when I did it successfully. Failures were met with mock encouragement, but repeated failures meant that I wasn’t ready, and I stayed in diapers. If I was successful, I gradually earned more independence and was allowed to wear Pull-ups, although I still needed supervision while using the potty. If I could use the potty independently, I could continue wearing Pull-ups and use the bathroom on my own. After three consecutive days without an accident, I was considered potty trained and allowed to wear real underwear. If it took too long; I wasn't ready and I went back to diapers for another break. Although my mom had put me back in diapers before, this felt different. Back then, wearing a diaper meant I slept in a crib, sat in a highchair, and I wasn’t allowed to open gates or doors. While my food was cut into smaller pieces, I could use utensils to feed myself. The most unsettling part was when mom made me hold Kristy's hand on the way to the kitchen, and she bottle-fed and burped me after dinner. I realized this wasn’t just another potty break. I often wondered why I didn’t just run away. Why did I stay there? However, once I was trapped, I couldn’t escape. Whenever I moved, my mom got an alert on her phone. Whenever I sat up, Mom’s voice would come from the monitor and say, “Lie down, it’s time to sleep.” The constant surveillance prevented any attempt to stand or escape from the crib. The rails were far too high to get over, and even if I tried to knock them down, the noise would create too much of a commotion and immediately draw attention. In reality, I didn’t need to be physically restrained because there was simply no way to escape. Even if I somehow managed to escape, I would face the same problem I had when I left New York: I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Now, things were even worse. I didn’t have a phone or a wallet. If I were to run away, everyone would assume I was just an eight-year-old boy who still wore diapers, and I couldn’t prove that I was an adult. There were only two ways that I could leave the nursery. One was to hope someone could persuade Mom to change her behavior. However, the chances of that happening were slim. Mom didn’t care what others thought, and she certainly didn’t hide the fact that I still wore diapers. Whether we were at home or out in public, and regardless of who was with us, she changed my diaper whenever necessary. If I happened to be wearing a diaper in a crowded place, she would put me in a stroller without hesitation. I doubted anyone would rescue me either, since no one had ever intervened before. Charlotte said someone from the county talked to her when she was in elementary school, but nothing came of it. People were scared of my mom, because they knew how ruthless and calculating she could be. In Sacramento, politics is everything, and my mom is an expert at it. Looking back, I don’t think the allegation was truly investigated. My parents had a close relationship with the head of the Department of Child Welfare, which likely influenced how things were handled. In addition, my mom had previously conducted investigations into that department, and she had prosecuted some of its employees. Her strong political connections and history with the department meant that no one was willing to challenge her or look deeply into the situation. The only other way was to convince my mom that this wasn’t necessary. The only real path to achieving that was to go along with everything she said, without argument or resistance. I had to quietly and obediently accept everything she did, hoping that, in time, my willingness to cooperate would persuade her to give me another chance at being an adult. However, there was a significant drawback to that approach: the longer I accepted her rules without question, the more routine and normalized this became for all of us. I wasn’t sure if it was something Mom put in my bottle or simply exhaustion, but I quickly drifted off to sleep. The next thing I can remember is my mom waking me up in the morning. For a brief moment, I hoped that everything I’d been through was just a bad dream, and that things would be back to normal when I opened my eyes. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. I found myself in a pink nursery, and my mom greeting me with a cheerful enthusiasm. “Wake up, sleepy head. Did you sleep well?” Before I could respond, she noticed the odor coming from my diaper. She grimaced, but then quickly regained her composure. “What do we have here? Did you leave Mommy a present in your diaper?” She pulled my diaper back and said, “Yes, you did. Look at that, you’re first stinky diaper. Mommy was worried you might need help to go poo-poo in your diaper.” She hugged me and praised, “I’m proud of you. Remember, don’t worry about poo-poo or pee-pee; that’s Mommy’s job.” Mom gently helped me out of the crib and led me to the changing table. As I looked around, I realized this was the same nursery I used when I was younger, although it had been redecorated. What used to be a room filled with cartoonish airplanes and airports was now transformed into a showcase for Disney Princesses. The walls were bright pink, and I blurted out, “Why is this pink?” Mom smiled and reassured me, “I know honey, you don’t like pink, but Mommy didn’t know you still needed a nursery. While you were gone, Kristy used this, and we decorated it with Disney Princesses. I’ll ask Daddy to redo it for you.” Once my mom finished changing my diaper, she guided me into the kitchen. She gently helped me into the highchair, ensuring I was safely seated. Although I instinctively tried to resist, her grip was firm enough to prevent me from pulling away. At that moment, I had to remind myself of my commitment to behave and follow whatever she said. Mom gave me a bowl of oatmeal, and insisted on feeding it to me herself. Patiently, she guided each spoonful to my mouth, gently encouraging me to open up and eat. As the meal went on, I let some of it dribble out, both because I was getting full and as a subtle form of protest. I wanted my Mom to react in some way, but she simply wiped my face and said, “Messy, messy.” Once the oatmeal was finished, Mom fed me a fruit compote made with pineapple, banana, and apples, which I really liked. After breakfast was over and my stomach felt uncomfortably full, Mom led me to the couch. She smiled and announced, “Okay Baby, it’s time for your bottle.” Shaking my head, I protested as strongly as I could. “No! Full!” Mom’s expression hardened; she glared at me, and said “Baby, no. You need to eat, now come here and take your bottle.” She didn’t give me any choice. She pulled me close to her chest and carefully put the bottle in my mouth, and then waited for me to drink. Eventually, despite my resistance, I finished the bottle. She immediately praised me, saying, “All done! Good job. I knew you could put more in your tummy.” After finishing breakfast and my morning bottle, Mom told me, “Baby, you need to play quietly in your playpen while Mommy works.” She led me into her home office, placed me gently in the playpen, and handed me a magnetic drawing board. She paused and asked, “What do you say to Mommy for giving you a fun toy to play with?” I stayed quiet, unsure of what she wanted from me. Mom waited for a few moments and then prompted me further, “Does Mommy need to remind you about the magic words? What do you say when somebody does something nice for you?” Although I couldn’t imagine how this could be considered nice, I knew better than to say anything else. So, I replied, “Thank you.” Time blurred as I sat in the playpen, with no clock and only my mom’s routine to mark its passing. She attended meetings in her office, and I had to stay quiet and occupied. Whenever I made too much noise or interrupted her work, she would quickly admonish me, saying, “Be quiet Baby, Mommy is working.” Between meetings, Mom worked intently at her computer, reading or typing. Mom eventually got up from her desk to check my diaper. She said, “Let’s change that wet diaper.” Even though I knew I peed in it, I didn’t think I needed to be changed. After Mom finished changing my diaper, she led me back into the kitchen and gently placed me in the highchair. She set a handful of Goldfish crackers on the tray in front of me, along with a sippy cup filled with apple juice. As I sat in the highchair, Mom helped herself to a slice of banana bread and sipped her coffee, keeping an eye on me as I used my hands to eat the Goldfish. When I finished my snack and juice, Mom smiled and praised me for finishing my snack. After our snack, Mom led me into the living room and spread a blanket on the floor. She announced, “It’s tummy time.” The gel on my pacifier numbed my tongue, so I couldn't speak clearly. When I tried to ask about tummy time, Mom didn't understand, but she likely would've ignored me anyway. She placed me gently on a blanket and sat in front of me. Using her hands, she began guiding my movements. First, she pushed me backward and then pulled me toward her, repeating that cycle several times. Next, she moved me from side to side. After that, she gently moved my legs in a bicycle motion, and then rotated my arms. When I let her guide me, she praised me. However, if I resisted, even a little, she would calmly say, “You don’t need to help, just let Mommy lead.” This was different than any other time I wore diapers. At that time, I had schoolwork to occupy my time, and my toys were more suitable for my age. I never had to play with toddler toys or do activities meant for babies. Back then, my mom treated me like a little kid, and not an actual baby. We went back to her home office after ‘tummy time’, and I played quietly while Mom was in a meeting. I thought I was being quiet, but once again, she said, “Be quiet, Mommy is working.” Finally, it was time for lunch, which meant my mom feeding me while I sat in the highchair. I’m not sure what she served, but it seemed like her attempt at homemade baby food. It actually didn’t taste bad, but it was almost completely smooth, lacking any real texture. After lunch, it was time for my nap. Even though I was in a crib, I was alone, and could finally process everything that had happened. Naps have always been a bit complicated for me. Like many children, I never wanted to take a nap, but regardless of my protests, I always ended up sleeping, even when I wasn’t tired. Whenever I was in diapers, naptime was the only time I had privacy, and I always treasured those moments. After my nap, Mom took me outside and encouraged me to play on our play structure. Despite her efforts, I simply wasn’t in the mood, and just sat quietly in the shade. Eventually, Mom’s patience wore thin; “Since you don’t want to play, you’re going back to the playpen.” Once inside, I had another snack, after which Mom moved my playpen into the living room. She selected a program from Kristy’s playlist, gave me a coloring book along with some crayons, and said, “You can color while you watch your show.” I was never particularly good with crayons or coloring. Charlotte, on the other hand, used to color with crayons even when she wasn’t in the nursery, and she was always good at it. I was lucky if I managed to keep my coloring inside the lines. That day, feeling upset and wanting to protest, I deliberately scribbled across the page, hardly paying attention to the lines. The end result resembled something a toddler might produce, with little sense of order or neatness. I hoped my mom would recognize my protest, but she didn’t. Instead, she offered mock praise, saying, “Look at the pretty picture! Let’s put it on the refrigerator.” I tried to beg, “Please mom, don’t,” but my protest fell on deaf ears. My dad came home just as I was being fed dinner, and he chose to ignore the unusual scene. He hardly glanced at me and asked, “How was your day?” with little interest. I wasn’t sure if he was asking me or my mom. I guess it was my mom, since she’s the one who responded. She shrugged. “Not bad. It’s tough to take care of a toddler all day long, and Reggie was a bit of a pill. He’ll need some time to adjust to his new routine. Well, anyway, how was your day?” My dad ignored my mom’s remarks and summarized his day; it was just boring court stuff that nobody cares about. I wanted to respond to my mom's comments about my behavior, but wisely kept quiet. After my mom put me back in the playpen, she selected another one of Kristy’s shows for me to watch. They talked about everything except me, as if my situation was just another part of their daily routine. Eventually, mom gave me a bath and then a nighttime bottle, which meant it was time for bed. I don’t know the exact time, but I think it was close to eight o’clock. Friday morning was similar to Thursday; except that I didn’t wake up in a messy diaper. At the time, I considered it a small victory, but that’s not how it turned out. The doorbell rang while mom was feeding me, and she said, “Oh good, Stacy is here.” I immediately hoped it wasn’t who I thought it was. Stacy was our neighbor, and about six years younger than me. She started Kindergarten the same year that I started at the virtual school. Since her parents were both at work, she went to our house after school was over. During those years, I almost always wore diapers, so Stacy thought I was a little kid. While she never changed my diaper, she loved to help the nanny take care of me. She would check my diaper, and let my nanny know when I needed to be changed. Whenever I made it to Pull-ups, she would try to help by reminding me to use the potty. She never teased me about it, even when mom put me back in diapers when I was fourteen years old. She considered herself my big sister, despite the gap in our ages. Hearing the doorbell filled me with a sense of dread, especially once I knew who was at the front door. I didn’t want anybody to see me like this, especially Stacy. I was trapped in the highchair, so I couldn’t run away. I hoped that Stacy was just dropping something off and wouldn’t come in. That would mean that she wouldn’t see me, and wouldn’t know that I was back in diapers. Unfortunately, I overheard their conversation, and soon realized that wasn’t the case. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. I didn’t know I needed a sitter until yesterday. I have to go into the office, and there have been some big changes at our house.” Stacy responded reassuringly, “It’s fine, Mrs. Brown. I love taking care of Kristy.” I heard my mom sigh and clarify, “I’m afraid, it’s not Kristy. It’s Reggie.” Stacy sounded surprised. “Reggie?” My mom explained, “I’m afraid so. He lost his job and had a mental breakdown; he’s regressed to a state that I haven't seen in several years. I’ve had to put him back in diapers, because he won’t take himself to the bathroom. You have to check it, as well, since he won’t tell you when he’s wet.” Stacy remarked, “Diapers again?” “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Oddly enough, Kristy doesn’t need diapers anymore. She’s finally potty trained!” My mom sighed, “Based on our family’s history, I wasn’t sure if that would ever happen.” Stacy smirked, “Yeah, Reggie took his sweet time, didn’t he.” My mom remarked, “Believe it or not, his sister was even worse, at least at night. Charlotte used to wet her bed, and as far as I know, she still does. I kept her in diapers until she was seventeen, but it should’ve been longer; Chuck insisted that I stop. I don’t want to put any pressure on Reggie right now, so don’t worry about the potty. Even if he begs, don’t take him to the bathroom. He’s not ready for that, and it’s not worth the hassle.” Mom explained the rest of the rules to Stacy. After finishing her explanation, Mom and Stacy came into the kitchen. She addressed me directly, saying, “Reggie. Mommy has to go to work. Do you remember Stacy?” Without waiting for my response, Mom explained, “She’s an adult now, and she’s going to watch you while Mommy is away.” Turning to Stacy, Mom asked, “Can you finish feeding him breakfast, and then give him a bottle? We’re trying to get his weight up.” She gently kissed me on the forehead and said, “Be a good boy for Stacy.” Then, she turned back to Stacy and added, “Treat him just like any other child, and if he pouts too much, put him in his crib and I’ll deal with it in the morning.” After Mom left, Stacy got next to my highchair and started to feed me. I didn’t want to be fed, and I wasn’t hungry, so I didn’t open my mouth. She pleaded, “Come on, Reggie, just open your mouth. Don’t make this difficult.” I shook my head and protested, “No! I’m not hungry!” Stacy responded firmly, “It doesn’t matter what you want. Your mommy said that you need to finish your breakfast. Now, do you want to spend the whole day in your highchair?” Faced with the threat of being kept in the highchair, I gave in and allowed her to feed me the rest of my breakfast. Once I finished eating, Stacy handed me a bottle and said, “Finish up your bottle, and then we can play.” Unfortunately, it was Kristy’s playroom, which meant it was mostly girl toys. Stacy tried to encourage me by reminding me, “Do you remember when we used to play together? That was always so much fun!” The urge in my stomach intensified, and I realized I needed to use the bathroom. I definitely didn’t want to use my diaper, especially in front of Stacy. Determined, I got up and opened the gate. Stacy immediately noticed and warned, “Reggie, stay in the playroom. You can’t open gates or doors.” I pouted, “But!” Stacy was firm. “But what? Sit down and play; you can’t open the gate!” I replied, “I have to use the bathroom.” Stacy did not waver. “Okay, that’s what your diaper is for.” I protested, “I don’t want to use my diaper.” “I don’t care, your mommy said that you have to.” I pleaded, “It’s not pee. Please, just let me use the bathroom.” I deliberately chose mature language, in the faint hope that she would see me as an adult. Stacy shook her head, “I don’t know, honey. Your mommy doesn’t want you to worry about the potty. Just use your diaper. I won’t be mad, I promise.” I pleaded and begged, eventually crying, "Please let me use the bathroom. I'm not a baby, and I don't need diapers." Eventually, Stacy relented and took my hand, saying, “Okay, let’s go to the potty.” Her agreement felt like a small victory, though I knew it came with conditions. As we entered the bathroom together, I protested, “Go away! I can do this by myself.” I tried to sound assertive, but my voice betrayed me, and I came across like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. Stacy responded with a firm tone, “Do not use that tone with me! You can’t be alone, so I have to watch you. Now, do you want to go potty, or sit in the corner?” It was clear she wasn’t budging, likely echoing instructions from my mom. When I didn’t answer right away, she pressed further, “What’s your answer?” Resigned to the situation, I replied quietly, “I’ll sit on the potty.” Accepting that Stacy would be right beside me was difficult, but I had no choice. As she prepared to help, Stacy noticed that my diaper was already wet and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that you wet your diaper?” I simply shrugged; I honestly didn’t think about it. She gently reassured me, “It’s okay, honey. That’s fine, I’ll change it after you go poo-poo in the potty.” Unfortunately, I had some performance anxiety. As much as I wanted, I couldn’t go. Stacy watched, and offered some encouragement. “Come on Reggie, just push.” I pushed, but nothing came out, so she asked, “You said that you needed to go poo-poo, why aren’t you doing it?” I cried, in a high-pitched voice, “I can’t. I’m trying, but I can’t!” She replied, “Just give me one more push.” I squinted to make it look like I was trying, but she wasn’t impressed. “Well, that was a waste of time. I should have listened to your mom. Let’s get that diaper back on.” She pulled my diaper back up and said, “I want you to go poo-poo before I change you’re diaper. Hopefully you don’t leak.” Making matters worse, I pooped two minutes after I got back in the playroom. Stacy took me into the nursery to change my diaper. I was so humiliated that I started to cry, so she comforted me, which only made it worse. From that point on, she never saw me as an adult. After that, in a futile attempt to reclaim a bit of dignity, I resisted Stacy’s instructions. I didn’t do anything bad enough to warrant a time-out, but I found small ways to push back. Whenever she told me I couldn’t do something, I whined and complained, hoping she might give in or at least see me as more mature. It wasn’t open defiance, just little acts of protest: refusing to cooperate fully, dragging my feet, or insisting on things I knew weren’t allowed. By lunchtime, Stacy’s patience had worn thin. My stubbornness reached a peak when she tried to settle me into the highchair. She called me over with a strained smile, trying to keep things pleasant despite her growing frustration. “Reggie, climb up here, let’s get some food in your tummy.” The tone made it clear that she expected obedience. I cried, “I don’t want to, can I sit in a normal chair?” She firmly answered, “No. Mommy said that you have to sit in a highchair.” I whined, “but I don’t want to.” Stacy took a deep breath, and said; “Stop it, right now! I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. You want to be an adult, but it’s obvious you’re not one, so stop it! There are two ways we can do this. The first is to stop whining, and let me take care of you. If you do that, I’ll be nice, and maybe convince your mommy to give you more freedom. Or you can keep doing what you’re doing, and I send you to your nursery, where you’ll stay until Mommy comes home. What is it going to be?” I stayed silent, but she said, “I want your answer!” “I’ll be good.” She hugged me, “That’s wonderful. Now let’s get some lunch.” I got into the highchair and let her strap me in. She remarked, “Okay, I was going to let you feed yourself, but you’re being fussy, so now I have to feed you.” This time, I let her feed me, without fussing about it. I reluctantly took my bottle, and finished it without prompting. The only time I resisted was after I finished my bottle. She remarked, “You’re really cranky, so you need a nap.” I cried, “I’m not tired.” Stacy replied with mild exasperation, “Reggie? You promised.” “I’m sorry.” She hugged me, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re just tired.” After that, I resigned myself to the role of the baby. I listened to her, and did whatever she wanted. While she was patronizing, she was nice. She blew a raspberry in my stomach while she changed my diaper, which made me laugh. At snack time, she said, “You’ve been so good since your nap that you deserve a treat.” She handed me a cookie, and let me eat it by myself. After I finished my cookie, she announced, “It’s such a nice afternoon, let’s go for a walk.” I didn't want anyone to see me like this, so I sobbed, "But?" “But, what?” “People will see.” Stacy smiled, “Don’t worry about it. Nobody cares that you still need diapers.” She brought out my stroller, which I hadn't used since I was fourteen. When I realized she wanted me to sit in it, I pulled back. I cried, “I can’t sit in that, I’m too big.” She laughed, "You're still the same size that you were back then. You used to love it when I pushed you in your stroller." That was a big lie! I hated it, but she loved it. It was always crowded when we picked her up from school, so I had to ride in a stroller whenever I wore diapers. Stacy always wanted to push me while we walked home, and my nanny usually let her. I didn't want to get in trouble, but I hated being in the stroller. I looked too old for it and protested, "No, I'm too big for a stroller." Stacy understood, and remarked, “Nobody can tell the difference. Only nosy people care.” I asked, “What about the other kids?” She replied, “To be honest, some of my friends were jealous.” I cried, “But why do I have to sit in the stroller?” Stacy responded with a calm, yet firm tone, making it clear that she was in charge. “First of all, because I said so. I’m in charge. Secondly, it’s what your mommy wants, and thirdly, it might be crowded, and I can’t trust that you’ll listen to me.” At the end of the day, my mom asked, “How was he?” Stacy smiled and gave her report. “Well, it started off rough. First of all, you’re right; he’s not ready to be potty trained. He begged me to let him poop on the potty, and then sat there and did nothing.” Surprisingly, my mom wasn’t mad that Stacy broke one of the rules. She calmly remarked; “Well, I warned you.” Stacy continued, “After his potty issue, he had a minor tantrum. Nothing dramatic, but he was stubborn and pouty. He whined his way through most of the morning. I told him that he could either behave, or I could put him in the nursery for the rest of the day. After that, he was really sweet. One of the sweetest little boys I’ve ever babysat. I’m here all of next week, so I can watch him whenever you need, just let me know.”

Chapter 5: Mom gets her baby back! One of the worst parts about being in timeout was the uncertainty. We never knew how long we would have to stay put, nor what Mom would do once she finally let us out. Sometimes, our punishment lasted only two or three minutes; just enough for her to assert her dominance and remind us who was in charge. But she sometimes also kept me in timeout for more than an hour. The unpredictability made each timeout feel even more daunting. Without any warning or explanation, we could be left standing for what felt like an eternity, wondering if the end was near or still far away. Even short timeouts made it clear that Mom was in charge and kept us alert. The lack of routine or set duration meant we could never settle in or become comfortable with the process, leaving us anxious about what would happen next. Regardless of the duration or reason for being there, the rules never changed. We had to assume the position: face the wall, feet spread apart, and arms clasped behind our back. Most importantly, no talking! That was the mistake I made. The thing about timeouts is that ten minutes doesn’t feel much different than thirty minutes. They both drag on endlessly, and after a while, I lose all sense of time. Even before my dad spoke up, it felt like I had been there a long time, but mom left us there even longer. Eventually, unable to stand it any longer, I blurted out, “How much longer are you going to keep us here?” I realized my mistake immediately, but it was too late. I was hoping for a warning, but she didn’t do that. She walked over, put a pacifier in my mouth, and asked Kristy, "Can you remind Reggie of the timeout talking rule?" Kristy replied, “No talking.” “Now, no more talking. Mommy hasn’t decided how to deal with you just yet.” That was a clear sign that she viewed me as a baby; she never referred to herself in the third person unless I was in diapers. Most of the time, especially since I became an adult, the punishment ended once I was released from timeout. As long as I sounded contrite and showed that I understood why I was there, Mom would hug me, and that would be the end of it. If she felt I wasn't sorry or remained upset, she'd send me to bed early. No matter how upset Mom was, she never threatened to put me back in diapers or treat me like a baby again. As long as I took care of them, she reluctantly accepted that I still had accidents. I remember the last time this came up, after I flew from New York to Sacramento. I arrived at their house with a wet Pull-up, and although Mom was clearly frustrated that I hadn’t changed out of it, she didn’t threaten to put me in a diaper. I hadn't thought about being a baby again until she referred to herself in the third person. The uncertainty of what was going to happen caused me to wet my Pull-up, which was already wet. This time, it was enough that it leaked, and I could feel the pee trickling down my leg. It wasn’t a full accident, but my pants were noticeably damp. Eventually, I overheard Mom talking to Charlotte. Mom asked, “Are you ready to be an adult again?” I'm not sure if Charlotte was genuinely sorry or just avoiding conflict, but as usual, she apologized. “I’m sorry. I know that Reggie doesn’t always look out for himself. He made me promise not to tell you, but I should’ve told you about the flight. And I’m sorry that I let him sit upfront. I told him that he had to sit in the back, but he didn’t want to.” My mom responded firmly, “I want you to understand just how dangerous it is for Reggie to sit in the front seat. I know that he is technically an adult, but he is too small to sit up front. The physics don’t know how old he is, so he needs a booster seat, just like Kristy.” Charlotte sounded remorseful and replied, “I know. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Although I couldn’t see Mom hug Charlotte, I heard her say, “I know honey, and I think you’ve learned your lesson. Now, why don’t you take care of dinner, while I deal with your brother.” After some time, Mom finally came over to me. She gently removed my pacifier and asked, “Do you know why I put you in timeout?” I realized it was best not to argue. If Mom sensed any defiance, I’d be sent back to the corner. So, I admitted, “I didn’t listen to you, and I flew home by myself.” I couldn’t help but add, “But—” Mom immediately raised her hand. “Stop! This is not the time for excuses. I don’t want to hear them, and they don’t matter.” Her voice, calm but firm, didn’t carry the tone she usually reserved for children; instead, she spoke to me as an adult. “Look! I understand that you want to be an adult, but the world will never see you that way. You can't do what others do, and you have to let people help you.” As she finished, her tone shifted. Now, she spoke as though addressing a stubborn child. “Since you can’t seem to understand that, and I don’t think you’re capable of doing so, it’s my job to take care of you.” I made one final attempt to prove I was more than just a child. “I know, but I’m a lot more capable than you think. I went to Dartmouth and have lived independently for six years. I can take care of myself." For a moment, Mom seemed to listen and I hoped she'd finally see me as an adult. But ultimately, her protective instincts took over. She addressed me directly, “Reggie, I know that’s what you think. But I’ve already given you chances to prove that you are ready to be an adult, and you’ve failed every single time.” Mom continued, pointing out the reality of my situation. “Look at you. You may have lived on your own, but you lived in a closet. You only left the closet for work, and everything you own fits in a small box. You’re filthy, and you’re nothing but skin and bones.” To drive her point home, she reached out and squeezed my Pull-up. “And you’re soaking wet.” Her words cut me deeply, because I felt the same way. She was right. I wasn't living in New York; I was barely surviving. She asked, “How many times have you peed in this Pull-up?” I stammered, “Once.” “Don’t lie to me. It’s leaking, and your pants are wet. How many accidents have you had this week?” My mom’s question made me reflect on the number of accidents I’d had since losing my job. That was my second accident of the day, and there were two more on Monday. I didn’t even count the two times I wet myself on the airplane; I only did that because I didn’t want to get up from my seat. Still, I realized that I couldn’t admit to having four accidents. I quietly answered, “Three.” My mom scoffed, “Three! I think you’re lying, but even so.” She turned to Kristy and asked, “Kristy, tell grandma what happens when you have more than two accidents in your Pull-ups?” Kristy defended herself, “Ganma, I big girl. I use the potty.” “I know sweetie, but what happens when you go potty in your Pull-ups two times.” Kristy said, “I haf to wear diapees.” My mom reassured her, “But you’re a big girl now, and you don’t wear diapers anymore.” Kristy vigorously nodded, “Yes, I big girl.” My mom turned to me and asked, “So, what does that mean for you, Reggie?” That was a trap; there wasn’t a safe answer. I tried to defend myself: “Mom, I don’t need diapers.” “It looks like you do. In my opinion, you were never truly potty trained anyway. If you were, we wouldn’t have to start over.” Desperate, I protested, “Mom! I am potty trained.” My mom was skeptical. “Really? And those three accidents were just because?” Without waiting for my response, she reached into my bag and pulled out the wet pants from Newark. She held them up for everyone to see, emphasizing her point. “Does this look like it comes from a child who is potty trained?” She continued her inspection, removing every pair of underwear I had packed. Among them were the two pairs I had peed in on Monday. Though they had dried, I hadn’t had a chance to wash them, which left them smelling awful. My mom sniffed the underwear, then shook her head in disgust. “Wow! I wasn’t expecting that. This is a mess; it’s a good thing you don’t need them anymore.” I asked, “What?” “You heard me. Since you don’t need them, I’m throwing all of them out. You’re going back to diapers. If you ever show me that you’re ready to be potty trained, we can try again. Once again, I tried to protest. “Mom, I’m a grown man!” Mom answered, “No, you’re not! You’re not even a big kid. Big kids don’t need diapers. Now come on, you’re absolutely filthy, and need a bath.” She stepped behind me and led me toward the bathroom. Hoping to recover a sense of dignity, I twisted free from her grip. I cried, “Fine! I’ll take a shower.” Mom pulled me back, and held me tighter; tight enough that I couldn’t break free. She scoffed, “No you’re not. Little boys take baths. Since you can't bathe yourself, I have to give you one.” I tried to argue, but she stuck a pacifier in my mouth. “Stop your whining! Suck on this.” The moment the pacifier touched my lips, I realized something was wrong. There was a strange gel coating it, and as soon as it touched my mouth, my tongue began to tingle and then go numb. Shocked and frustrated, I immediately spit the pacifier out, not caring how childish it looked. I screamed, “Mom! You can’t do this! I’m not a baby! Just let me take a shower.” My mom glared. “Reggie, don’t take that out! I’m giving you a bath, whether you like it or not.” She walked behind, as she pushed me towards the bathroom. I squirmed as she pulled down my pants, but that only earned me a firm swat. My mom never spanked us; I didn’t even know other kids were spanked until I went to college. A firm swat was the most physical she ever was, and it was just hard enough to get my attention. I pleaded, “Mom, please! This is humiliating.” “If you’re embarrassed, imagine how I feel; my twenty-four-year-old son isn’t potty trained, can’t bathe himself, and won’t eat. Now, arms up.” I pressed my elbows to my sides in quiet protest. Mom placed her thumbs into my arm pits, which caused me to raise my arms. She pulled off my shirt, leaving me completely naked, and said, “Oh my gosh! I can see your ribs. How much do you weigh?” I tried to say, “75 pounds,” but it came out garbled. Mom brought out the scale and placed it in front of me, “Step on this, sweetie.” By now, any resistance I felt had faded, and I complied without protest. The display stopped at 62 pounds, thirteen below my required minimum. Mom looked at the display and said, “Sixty-two pounds! Reggie, what did you eat today?” I tried to respond, but the pacifier in my mouth made it impossible. Mom realized her mistake, smiled reassuringly, and said, “Mommy forgot that you have your binky in your mouth.” She carefully took out the pacifier and asked again, “Tell Mommy what you’ve eaten today.” I answered, “A burger, and a coke.” It came out garbled, but she understood what I meant. “That’s it! Just a burger.” “And a Coke.” “That doesn’t count. Thank God, you’re back home.” She sighed, and demanded, “Get in the tub, sweetheart.” As soon as I got into the tub, her demeanor softened. She became gentle and reassuring. She praised me by saying, “That’s a good baby,” and then handed me some cups to play with. The cups were pink and featured a Disney Princess theme. I hate the color pink, and I never played with girl toys. I whimpered in protest. Mom tried to soothe me, saying, “I know, honey. You’re not a girl, but Mommy doesn’t have bath toys for little boys. I haven’t had to take care of a baby boy for a long time. I promise, Mommy will buy you some bath toys.” After Mom took me out of the tub, she wrapped me snugly in a towel, carefully drying me off. Suddenly, she called out, “Charlotte, honey, can you get the diapers and pajamas from the nursery?” Hearing this, Kristy assumed the pajamas and diapers were meant for her. She protested loudly, “No pajamas! I not tired. Not bedtime!” Mom responded with gentle reassurance, “No, honey, they’re not for you. You’re a big girl, but you can’t pout. Big girls don’t pout.” Kristy lowered her head and quietly apologized, saying, “I sorwry.” Maybe Mom was just trying to make Kristy feel helpful, but instead, she ended up pulling her into my embarrassment. She handed Kristy my diaper and the changing pad, and asked gently, “Kristy, honey, can you help Grandma and bring this to the living room?” Kristy immediately protested, her face scrunching up in confusion. “But ganma, I no wear diaper anymore.” Mom reassured her, “I know, honey. They aren’t for you, are they?” Kristy looked uncertain and asked, “They aren’t?” With a calm voice, Mom replied, “No, they’re for Reggie.” Still puzzled, she turned to Mom and asked, “Reggie, diaper?” Mom nodded. Her eyes grew wide as she hesitated before asking, “Is he baby?” Mom answered patiently, “Well, big kids don’t wear diapers, so I guess he is a baby.” She often used this line whenever she put me in a diaper. After a moment, she paused, searching for the right words to help Kristy understand why her uncle had suddenly become a baby. With gentle reassurance, she explained, “Reggie isn’t ready to be a big boy yet, but when he is, I want you to help him learn.” Ten years after gaining independence, I found myself back in diapers, and basically a baby again. Mom changed my diaper right there on the living room floor, not caring that everyone was watching. She put me in baby blue sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt with elephants, the same pajamas I wore in the winter while I slept in the nursery. She lifted me up and said, “You’re fussy, so you’re going into the playpen while mommy gets dinner ready.” Kristy was completely confused by all of this. Despite her confusion, my mom did her best to reassure her that everything was okay. To help calm her down, mom turned on Kristy's favorite TV show, allowing her to settle quietly in front of the television. Meanwhile, mom brought out the highchair, which immediately triggered a protest. She cried out, “Ganma! I no baby. I big girl!” Kristy’s confusion was evident as she continued to insist that she wasn’t the baby, even though Mom repeatedly tried to reassure her. Mom’s patience began to wear thin, but she still spoke gently. “Kristy, do you need to go to time out? Big girls don’t pout. Reggie is the baby, so the highchair is for him.” Once the table was set, Mom called out from the kitchen, “Kristy, honey, can you let Reggie out of the playpen and come to the table?” Kristy hurried over and opened the gate to the playpen, her face lighting up with excitement. “Reggie, it dinner time!” Kristy started to walk toward the dining table, but before she got very far, Mom stopped her with a gentle reminder. “Hold Reggie’s hand, sweetheart. I don’t want him to run off.” Mom put me in the highchair and snapped on the tray, locking me in. She put a bib on me, and I was too surprised to object. My silence may have kept things from getting worse. Mom wiped my hands, then served a big plate of spaghetti. She also put a sippy cup full of milk in front of me. I expected the sippy cup, but I didn’t want any milk. I waited for mom to take out my pacifier, and begged, “Can I have a Coke?” However, my tongue was so numb that I couldn’t really speak. Mom seemed to understand, though I don’t know how. She gently shook her head and replied, “No baby. Babies don’t drink soft drinks, they drink milk.” Her tone was firm but not unkind. Then, with a hint of encouragement that seemed downright cruel, she added, “If you’re good, and do what Mommy tells you, she’ll let you do more things.” As I looked down at my plate, I noticed it was piled with twice as much spaghetti as Kristy's. Even Kristy's portion was larger than what I would normally eat. All the others at the table had utensils, and Kristy's were specifically designed for toddlers. Yet, when it came to me, I had nothing. I asked for a fork, but my words came out garbled, sounding more like “forth?” Mom shook her head. “No honey. If mommy thought you were ready for a fork, mommy would have given you a fork. Use your hands. Hurry up, and clean your plate.” I ate until I was full, but couldn't finish my meal. I resorted to an old childhood trick: I spread the spaghetti around my plate, attempting to make it seem like I had eaten more than I actually had. Unfortunately, this tactic didn't fool anyone. After everyone finished eating, Mom noticed what I was doing and let out a weary sigh. “Well, since you’re just playing with your food, I guess I have to feed you.” She started feeding me and said, “I thought you could handle this, but I was wrong.” Frustrated and overwhelmed, I pressed my lips together and shouted, “No! I’m full!” My protest was met with Mom’s stern response: “Reggie, stop! We’re not playing this game anymore. It’s only going to get worse if you keep fighting. You’re not leaving that highchair until you finish your dinner.” Reluctantly, I let her feed me the rest of my spaghetti, and each time I swallowed, she offered gentle encouragement. She began by saying, "That's better, honey," and after each bite, she encouraged me with, "Good boy." When I finally finished my meal, Mom wrapped her arms around me and said, “Look at that, you finished everything. Mommy is so proud of you.” I thought being fed at the table was as bad as it could get, but it got worse. Mom fetched a baby bottle from the kitchen, let me out of my highchair, and led me over to the couch. She motioned, “Sit on mommy’s lap, and drink your bottle.” Confused, I asked, “What’s this?” “It’s a protein shake. You need it to make you bigger.” Without waiting for any further questions, Mom pulled me onto her lap. Using her left hand, she pinned me gently against her chest, then placed the bottle in my mouth with her right hand. Once again, I tried to resist, but it didn’t work. She had me pinned against her chest, and I had to swallow every time I breathed. Afterward, she patted my back, I burped, and she praised me. "Good job. Time for bed." I glanced over and noticed that the game my dad was watching had just started, which meant it was only 7:30 PM. Tears welled up in my eyes as I pleaded, “Mom, it’s early.” “No. You’re cranky, tired, and fussy. You need sleep. We will try again tomorrow.”

114. Bad Faith Isadora knew that she needed some time to think. Maybe she should have been thinking while she was going through a shooting lesson with Barry; putting holes in targets and trying to pretend that her only past experience had been from her husband wanting her to learn. But she’d been having too much fun then. She could have thought on the way home, but almost as soon as the lesson had ended, her anger had come flooding back. How could Brock talk down to her like that? He’d seemed almost frustrated, like he was talking down to a child who didn’t understand everything. But he’d been so dismissive of her moment of triumph, and she couldn’t accept that. She had the one thing that he’d said would prove she was a worthy partner, and he wouldn’t even let her tell him. Now, lying back on her bed, she stared at the ceiling and tried to make herself think about it. She could remember so many times in the investigation when she’d been angry with Brock’s treatment of her, only to discover later that he had a perfectly rational reason for it. That he’d been playing a role for the sake of eavesdroppers, or that she’d made some mistake without even realising. He genuinely seemed to be quite competent, and he was such a good actor that she knew it was impossible to judge whether he was genuinely angry. But she told herself that, more and more, he’d been pushing her to one side. Now he wouldn’t even listen, and there was no reason for that. Was there? It couldn’t have been the chance that the people he was golfing with might have overheard, because they were so far off the course there would obviously be nobody in earshot. He was just putting her down for his own amusement now; or perhaps her refusal to accept his reflexive attribution of blame to Lorenzo for everything that happened in this town had further eroded his trust in her. But she forced herself to think. If she reacted emotionally, she knew she was just going to embarrass herself again. Before she yelled at Brock again, she needed to think carefully and rationally over how he had behaved, and try to understand what was going on in his head. She took a couple of deep breaths, focusing on the patterns in the ceiling, and then tried to put it together. All the feelings she had been suppressing came flooding back in, but this time she was ready for them, and determined to address the points one by one in the hope of finding something rational that she could actually use to build a calm, logical reaction. Brock didn’t trust Lorenzo. That was the big deal. The local police blamed the mythical Arrencani Crime Family for just about every crime in this town, like some kind of bogeyman. Isadora knew that Lorenzo was the most honest man they knew, and so none of that could be true. But Brock was more predisposed to trust police reports than hunches, so she couldn’t see the truth that was right in front of him. Isadora briefly remembered her doubts earlier in the day, and the suspicion that Lorenzo had been hiding something from her. But she pushed those thoughts down, reminding herself that they were neither trustworthy nor relevant to this line of deduction. What mattered was that Brock didn’t trust Lorenzo, and that once he had accepted the existence of the supposed crime family as gospel, he would be less likely to respect anything his partner said to the contrary. She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about that until she had proof, so she let her analysis of the day’s events move on to the next point. She was playing the role of Stella Klein. That could be an issue, possibly. Except that they’d been so far from the golf course, there was no way that any of Brock’s opponents could have overheard them. The middle of the woods, the middle of nowhere, would surely be as secure as their own surveillance-screened nursery. There was no way anyone would have been close enough to hear. And the only other explanation she could think of for his attitude was that he really didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He’d pretty much told her that he would accept her as a partner if she could find it; but had that just been an excuse to keep her out of the way? Had she been wasting all this time? She found it hard to believe that he could seem so warm while hiding so much contempt for her abilities; but she had to admit that Brock was a good enough actor to portray whatever image he wanted. She immediately started worrying about what she could do to impress him again. She needed to be useful. She didn’t know how much of that was fear of failure, and how much was the desire to please Daddy that the hypnosis had left her with, but she knew she needed to do better. But what could she do? She felt the anger creeping up on her again, as well as a little frustration. And maybe, if she really committed to self-analysis, she would sense panic starting to rise. She couldn’t bear to think she wasn’t good enough for him. But then, what other options were there? Could he have been reacting unfairly? She wanted to believe it, because it was the only option that didn’t make all these feelings her own fault. But Brock wasn’t one who jumped to anger easily, so far as she had seen. There would have to be something behind it, some other frustration for him to take out on her. And she latched on to that thought like a life belt. If Brock had just heard that something was wrong, or something else had annoyed him, maybe he had snapped on instinct; and she hadn’t stayed around long enough for him to have second thoughts. It was just about believable. But what could have annoyed him so much? Someone cheating at golf, when his urge to show up the cheat conflicted with the need to maintain whatever handicap he had previously decided on for Bernard Klein? She could imagine that must be really rage-inducing. Or was it some investigative thread that had drawn a blank, and he blamed the partner who was still trailing behind him? She had to hope that one or the other was true. That his anger hadn’t really been directed at her. Maybe he’d gone searching for a lost ball and decided to walk in the woods for a minute or two to clear his head; in which case her showing up to dump more deductions on him would have seemed a lot less positive. And she realised that she needed to know. Even if she couldn’t do anything about it, she needed to know where his head had been that morning. So she forced herself to stand, and after getting a drink headed back down to the nursery. She tapped her fingers impatiently as the laptop switched out of its undercover childish mode, and than called up the records from Brock’s GPS and buttoncam. The record was full of holes, of course. He still kept turning it off, no matter how much Isadora wished he wouldn’t. But there were some recordings from that morning, and she only hoped that one of them would reveal the real cause of his frustration. She chose one a little over ten minutes before she had run into him, before he had walked away from his golfing partners. The video dropped her straight into the middle of what looked like a jovial foursome playing golf without any real competitiveness. She could make out Victor Solomon and Oscar Boldfellow, while the third member was out of shot right now. Desperate to know the truth, Isadora settled back to watch. “I should introduce you,” Victor was saying. “He’s a decent chap. Did our lawns long before he started at the Club, and of course I was happy to ask about his family. Let me tell you, it was a surprise when my baby told me he was… you know…” “Yeah,” Brock’s voice echoed slightly, picked up by a tiny microphone on his own shirt. “It would be good though, maybe we can–” “Bernard?” a third voice interrupted, and Brock turned to see Oscar gesturing in his direction with a golf club. “You’re up.” “Thanks,” Brock said jovially, and took a few steps back to the tee. Isadora could see the field of vision moving back and forth, steadying with the distant hole in the centre as Brock lined up his shot. “Get ready to applaud, gents, I feel a hole in one coming on.” There was a little laughter in the background, but then there was silence. For all their joking around, these men respected the game enough that distracting someone during his shot was unthinkable. Watching the laptop on her knees, Isadora found herself glued to the screen, fingers instinctively crossed as she wished Brock the best of luck with this shot. She shouldn’t have been surprised when it sailed up into the air, seemed to hang there for a moment at the apex of its arc, and then seemed to curve to the left, coming down well behind the treeline on the far side of the nearest water hazard. She should have known that she’d started playback right before he left the course, but the moment had seemed so tense that it slipped her mind for a moment. “Amazing, old chap,” Victor broke the silence with a laugh. “I didn’t realise the hole was that far outside the course.” Then there was a faint sound that could have been Brock cursing under his breath, and some good-natured laughter from the others. “Might take me a while to find,” Brock mumbled. “Think there’s a blackberry patch under the trees around there somewhere. You guys play on, I’ll catch up when I find it.” And then the laughter and jokes slowly faded away behind him as he headed into the woods. He moved quickly, confidently, even after the recording picked up the scratches of the undergrowth snatching at his trousers. The tangled, thorned stems of blackberries weren’t in evidence, but it was entirely possible that he had memorised the layout of the woods well enough to walk around them. He paused after a few seconds, and then stooped to pick up his ball from the ground. He didn’t even need to look around; some subtle sign of damaged foliage must have told him exactly which leaves would reveal a ball when pushed aside. There was a stark contrast between his confidence about taking the shot, and his pessimism when it came to the post-mistake ball hunt. Isadora was sure it must mean something, but she wasn’t sure what conclusion she could draw. Brock straightened up, and kept on walking deeper into the woods. He seemed calm and confident, as if he knew exactly where he needed to go, even after the errant ball was found. A lurch from the camera suggested that he had dropped to his knees a few seconds later, and now the blackberries were in sight. There was a click, and another sound of movement. Something being plugged in. And then the view switched abruptly, as the feed from the buttoncam switched to an external camera. Brock had connected up some other piece of technology from his basic field kit, although the reason wasn’t entirely clear. Isadora found herself pinned to the screen again, mind drawing a blank with every conclusion she tried to draw. And then the video zoomed in, and the changing quality of the audio together with a targeting crosshair told her that her partner had connected a laser microphone, to better pick up a distant conversation over the background noise of a million woodland animals going about their business. She couldn’t see anything but a couple of vague silhouettes almost completely hidden by out-of-focus foliage, but the microphone’s crosshair was carefully positioned on a tree close to the mysterious figures. “Lorenzo doesn’t want to take the shot,” a voice grumbled, the frustrated tone adding on a little venom that was hard to ignore. It didn’t take long to recognise the bitter animosity that was so characteristic of Roman Bercher. “That’s not a good look. Makes it seem like the boss is scared to get his hands dirty. How do we deal with that?” “Boss does what boss does,” another voice answered, this one sounding more weary than angry. It took a few long seconds for Isadora to recognise the clipped accent of Enzo Arrencani; Lorenzo’s veteran brother who rarely associated with anyone outside the house. “Or, like, maybe it’s like the boss who doesn’t dip into his own supply. There’s plenty of ways you could spin it.” “Or how about,” Roman barked, “you get your brother to stop playing silly games. This is the biggest deal we’ve ever had, and sudden;y he’s more concerned with whatever nonsense those nurses planted in his head. I swear, having him take guidance from his housekeepers is going to destroy his credibility if anybody finds out.” “He’s not going to listen,” Enzo said. “Claudine heard Strong’s last words, you know? That almost makes her a kind of successor, her word is law on some things.” “Right. But we need to persuade him, or the family loses face. I’m not handling this Lasserville negotiation just to have the whole family fall apart over the boss’s ego.” “I’ll talk to him, but what can I say?” “Mention Marco.” “You’re not going to give it to–” “Hell no!” it sounded like Roman needed a real effort of will to keep from swearing there. “I mean, I might offer him the shot to feed his ego, but only with blanks. Better still if we can keep him out of this entirely.” “Right?” “God knows I don’t want the brat taking over. I should never have let word get out about him being the family’s heir. But if Lorenzo hears that Marco might put himself at risk…” “He might reconsider doing it himself,” Enzo sounded almost smug then. “It’s a tall story to sell the old man, but I guess I got to do it. He wouldn’t want to hear that from you.” “I just wish we could–” The camera lurched to one side, and as soon as the laser wasn’t pointing at that tree, the audio descended into a carillion of woodland sounds. Then there was another click, and a moment of distortion. The field of vision suddenly changed, and there was a rustling as Brock hurriedly packed away the microphone and zoom lens. “Brock?” a female voice called out between the trees, not hushed like Roman’s and Enzo’s. “I got an–” Isadora’s fingers stabbed at the F7 key, stopping the video and dismissing that video instantly when she recognised herself walking obliviously between the trees, and then was able to identify her own voice. She knew in an instant that he’d been far from the other golfers because he wanted to be, and that she had unknowingly interrupted his surveillance of a conversation she couldn’t even start to decipher. There was no question now about why Brock had been so angry. And there was no doubt that it was really her fault. Was she as incompetent as he seemed to think she was? She couldn’t believe she had been so careless. The only thing she had left to debate was how she could possibly apologise enough, or whether there was a way to make it up to him. Could really use some feedback here. I've got 5 possible interpretations of that conversation in mind; all of which have been hinted at or foreshadowed previously. And I'd really like to know which one immediately jumps to a reader's mind, or which seems most believable at this point. What do you think?

The doctor isn't that likely to notice, I've been going to annual physicals for 5 years now diapered, and it's not been seen nor come up in our visit notes. Tuck your waistband in and hike up your pants. If your doctor does notice, it's best not to lie to them so as to not waste their time. You wear diapers for personal and non-medical reasons, since your incontinence isn't caused by any other conditions that they might start trying to diagnose. If you WANT your doctor to find out, examine your motivations and don't be a creep.

Hortensia had never felt as alone as she did now. Matilda refused to talk to her. Jenny had locked herself in her room and didn’t even say goodbye. Mrs. Rodgers was busy on the phone all afternoon and to top it all off Zach, Nick, and even Hazel treated her like a pariah once they had learned the trouble they were all in. Hortensia hadn’t made them participate. She was only doing what she had to for her moms sake, but alas, she had refused him and this was her punishment. Hortensia hadn’t thought Jenny would take it so personally. She was so startled when she had caught Jenny tearing up. Hortensia had almost admitted it had been her on the spot. She hadn’t wanted to make Jenny cry. It was nothing personal. She quite liked Jenny, for a school teacher anyway, even if she did get on her nerves from time to time. (Who made kids do homework in the summer?) When Hortensia’s mom had told her of the possibility of being transferred last month, Hortensia was willing to do almost anything to stop it. He was counting on it. He had found her sitting alone outside the school gates when Professor Bitch had chased her out. Sure, she had hit her with the paddle, but it hadn’t hurt her. It was more of a warning slap. Hortensia had gotten the message. That’s when he pulled up and got out of his car. He said he had connections. All it would cost her was a favor. She looked up at him from her spot on the ground and told him to go eat shit, earning her a kick to the face. He was in one of those moods. You didn’t refuse him when he was in one of those moods. Defeated, she asked if he wanted the usual. He did not. What he wanted was Jenny gone. She didn’t ask him why. “I don’t care what you do. Bully her. Beat her. Harass her. Frame her. Just get rid of her from this school.” “Why should I? I like her.” Hortensia had spat. He kicked her in the stomach. She never could keep her mouth shut. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her to his face as Hortensia whimpered in pain. “My connections can help her.” He whispered. “Or they can hurt her. People get jumped in prison all the time. People also die in prison all the time.” Then he had dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground and left. Hortensia had racked her brain. Maybe if Jenny thought vandals were in the area she’d want to move to a better area for Matilda. This was the worst school in the district for a reason. Only, Jenny seemed obsessed with making the school better, not leaving it. And she had blamed Matilda. It hadn’t been her intention at all. Every kind word and action made Hortensia feel worse and worse. She felt like she might drown from the stress. This would be so much easier if Jenny just treated her like everyone else in her life had. Then he had found her again yesterday and reminded her of their deal, and by reminded her, threatened her mom. He had demanded to know what she had done so far, so she had told him about the graffiti. He told her to do it again, but make it worse. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. If her car isn’t destroyed, Eve will be finding herself in the infirmary.” She had been so angry it had been easy to smash the windows out. Only the first one she had smashed with her fist. She was sure she had broken her hand. She hadn’t meant to drag them into it. And it was all for nothing. Her mom was getting transferred anyway. She felt like she wanted to scream, or throw up. Or both. They ended up having a huge fight on top of it. It was Hortensia’s specialty afterall. Ruining everything. She had been ecstatic when her mom told her Cynthia and Aiden had put their house up for sale. He had lost his job and couldn’t afford to stay here anymore. Hortensia had seen a sliver of hope. Could her nightmare be over? No. Her nightmare had only just begun. They were looking to move Swansea, where her mom was being transferred, and they were offering to take Hortensia with them when they moved. “Fuck no!” Hortensia blurted out. “I’m not living with them!” “What? What do you mean no?” Eve demanded. Hortensia could see the look of hurt on her face. “Don’t you want to visit me?” “I can visit you from here.” Hortensia said. “And we can still talk on the phone.” “Tens, it’s not the same thing. I want to be able to see you regularly.” “No! I’m not going anywhere with them!” Hortensia nearly yelled. “I hate him!” Eve had only rolled her eyes. “Not this again. You’re going to have to get over it. You don’t have a say in the matter, I’m still your mother!” Hortensia hissed. “You have no idea what your asking!” “I don’t want to hear any of your stories! He has been like a father to you! If you’d stop being so ungrateful for five minutes- Hey where do you think are you going?” “I’m not going with them!” Hortensia screamed. “Yell one more time and you’re out of here!” A guard shouted. “I want to stay with Jenny.” Hortensia said. “Oh, so you’re going to pick her over me? Is that it?” Eve said coldly. “At least she listens to me.” Hortensia said. She could feel hot tears sliding down her face. She was choosing their friendship over her daughter. Again. “It’s because she doesn’t know any better! I bet you’ve got her wrapped around your finger with all your stories, don’t you?” “Do you have any idea what i’ve done for you? He made me smash her car or else he’d get the guards to beat you up!” “What do you mean you smashed her car!? This! This is what I’m talking about! You have no consideration for anyone but yourself! That woman took you in and this is how you repay her!” “He said he had connections from when he was in prison! He said he’d get the gaurds to-” “You’re so full of shit.” Eve said with a scoff. “Just try and pull this crap with them. They’ll set you right. I knew Jennifer was too soft on you.” “I hope you get beat up! Maybe then you’ll listen to me!” Hortensia furiously wiped at her eyes as she rode in the van in silence. Her broken hand, at least she thought it was broken, ached like a bitch from trying to pull weeds with it. She had opted to leave her stuffed dog behind, but now she was regretting it. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with him and cry herself to sleep. How had she gone and fucked everything up so badly? “You’ll be working by yourself in the back yard.” Brian said as he led her past the kitchen and out into the yard. Hortensia’s stomach nearly dropped. There were so many weeds. “You’re not here to hang out and have fun.” “My hand hurts.” Hortensia mumbled. “And it’s going to hurt worse by the end of the week. The trash cans on the side of the house.” Brian said. “I’ll come get you when dinners ready.” He left her alone to stare at the yard. She sank onto the edge of the porch and let her legs dangle. It wasn’t even noon. By 2pm she was drenched with sweat. Her back ached and she was so thirsty, but she had already drank so much warm water from the hose she could hardly move. She wanted to kick the trashcan in frustration. Two hours non stop and it looked like she hadn’t done anything! It was slow going pulling with her left hand and everywhere she looked there were spiders crawling in the grass. When he had finally said she could stop for the day around six, every muscle ached. She dragged herself to the table. “Did you wash your hands?” Brian asked all of them. All Hortensia could do was grunt. She was caked in dirt and sweat from head to foot, but the thought of hauling herself up seemed like too much work. Reluctantly, she pried herself from the chair with a wince and staggered to the kitchen sink. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, frowning at the top of her right hand. It wouldn’t get clean. It wasn’t until she stared at it under the kitchen light did she realize the discoloration wasn’t dirt, but a bruise from her knuckles down to her fingertips. “You look exhausted.” Brian chuckled at her halfway through dinner. Hortensia shrugged, but she could feel her eyelids drooping. “Hazel, would you mind giving up your room for a bit?” “Why?” Hazel asked, mouth full of pasta. “So Hortensia has somewhere to sleep.” “But what about me?” “You can sleep on the couch.” Brian said. Hazel glowered for a moment. “But it’s my room.” she said arms crossed. “Why can’t she sleep on the couch?” “Because she’s nearly a teenager and she needs her privacy.” Brian explained. “I’ll let you watch telly until you fall asleep.” Hazel perked up at this and eagerly agreed. “You can shower first. You look like you’re going to drop. I’ll get you fresh bedding after dinner.” He said to Hortensia, but she wasn’t listening. She had fallen asleep sitting up. He shook her awake and grinned.“How about I get you situated now.” He stared at the boys and told them to do the dishes, and ignoring their complaints, he led her upstairs. She grabbed her clothes from her suitcase and followed him to the bathroom. She let out a soft groan from underneath the hot water. She could stay here forever. “THERE’S THREE OTHER KIDS WHO NEED TO SHOWER AFTER YOU! DON’T TAKE ALL THE HOT WATER!” She heard hollered from the other side of the door. Or not. Reluctantly, she turned the knobs and stepped out into the steamed bathroom. She flicked the lightswitch to turn on the fan and threw her towel over her head. She was ten seconds into vigouroulsy rubbing her hair dry when she froze. She let the towel drop to the floor. She stared at the mirror stunned. In the condensation on the glass, someone had taken their finger and written two words. I KNOW Hortensia stood rooted to the spot. Had someone come in while she was showering? She hadn’t heard anyone, and she had made sure to lock the door. She eyed the knob. Still locked. She stared at the words before letting out a sigh. She picked up her towel to clear off the condensation, but when she moved it aross the mirror, the steam remained. She let out a gasp of fright and fell against the wall. The words had changed. HE WILL PAY “You alright?” Brian asked. “I heard a crash.” Hortensia looked to the door then back to the mirror. The words were gone. Now a clear streak from where she had wiped the mirror was visible. “Ye-yeah, I fell.” Hortensia said. She hastily threw her clothes on and stared at the mirror one last time before opening the door. She hurried to Hazel’s room and shut the door behind her. What was that? Her imagination? She was about to let herself collapse onto the bed when she saw a package lying on the bed. Her eye twitched. He knew. Jenny had told him. She sighed and stared at the package of nappies lying on the bed. No way! Uh-uh! Not after last time! She sat on the matress and heard the crinkle of plastic. Here she had thought he had given her Hazel’s room to be nice. He was just protecting the couch. She looked around Hazel’s room and sighed. Not a single stuffed animal. Go figure. She hugged the pillow to her chest for a moment before letting it go. It just wasn’t the same. Something caught her attention sitting on the shelf. She grinned as she picked up the black plastic toy and sat back down with it. “Bop it!...Twist it… Pull it!” Hortensia strained in concentration as she followed the commands. “Pull it!” She pulled the blue lever sticking out the side. “Pull it.” She pulled the lever again. Faster and faster the commands came. “Bop it!” “Bop it!” “Twist it!” “Bop it!” “Wear it!” She paused and stared at the toy as it gave out a pained shout at her loss. She pressed the button to play again. “Bob It!” “Bob it!” Bob it!” “Wear it!” What the hell…? She pressed the button to play again. “Wear it!” Again. “Wear it!” Again! “Wear it!” She threw it down on the bed. What the hell was wrong with it? Did it need new batteries or something? “Ka-boo Koo-doh!” Hortensia jumped and looked up. Oh great. It was one of those. She shuddered. Hortensia had two fears. Spiders. And Furbies. She had heard rumors they liked to talk unprompted. In the middle of the night. Without batteries. “Ahh-noo?” The tan animatronic asked. Hortensia stared at it. “You’re creepy.” she lamented. “Boo-tay! Boo-tay! Boo-tay!” “Shut up.” She groaned. “If you start talking in the middle of the night I’m throwing you out the window!” “Boo-dah!” Suddenly the bedroom door opened. Hortensia jumped again. It was Hazel wearing those ridiculous animal pajamas. Hazel silently went to her dresser drawer and began to dig for something. “Your Furby keeps talking.” Hortensia said. Hazel looked up at it. “That’s what their supposed to do. Duh.” Hazel said with so much attitude Hortensia was taken aback. “Boo-dah Bay-bee! Oh-too-mah. Boh. Bo-tay!” The Furby said. Hazel scowled. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Hortensia said, pointing at the fuzzy monstrosity. Hazel went to a different drawer and pulled out a book. Hortensia looked at the cover. Oh geez, they had their own dictionary? After a minute Hazel shrugged and tossed her the book before leaving and shutting the door behind her. “Take your evil hairball with you!” Hortensia called, but no luck. “Boo-tay!” The Furby chirped again. Hortensia sighed and picked up the dictionary. “Change.” she read out. Change? “Wear it!” The Bop It shouted. Hortensia let out a nervous chuckle. The hell? Both the Bop It and the Furby began to chant their words in unison. “Stop it!” Hortensia said. She was getting scared now. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” “Dah-boo. Dah-ay-loh-nah-bah!” No Goodnight. “Boo-tay!” Change. “What do you want me to change? This?” She held a nappy up and waved it around. She hadn’t expected a reply. “Boo-ee-tay.” That’s right. Hortensia sprang up and grabbed the Furby. She marched downstairs and found three out of the four of them sitting on the couch. Hazel was tucked under Brian’s arm. They all stared at her. “Hey, I didn’t think i’d see you the rest of the night.” Brian said. “Your welcome to watch a movie with us.” “Your thing is creeping me the hell out!” Hortensia said. She set the Furby on the counter “And knock next time. I was about to change.” “I’ve been down here.” Hazel said looking confused. “No, you weren’t. You just barged in and tossed me your Furby dictionary.” “She’s been here with us.” Brian said. Hortensia stared at her. Where did her pajamas go? Hortensia began to back away. “I thought you said you didn’t get scared?” He asked with smile mixed with sympathy and amusement. “It’s just a toy. Take it back and throw it in the closet if you don’t want it around you. Don’t leave it out here.” He dropped his voice conspiratorialy. “I hate those things too. There should be an off switch on the bottom.” She flipped it over and shut it off. “Is everything alright?” He asked. “No, it’s not alright!” Hortensia wanted to yell. She could feel her eyes burning. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’m going to bed.” She stalked back to the room and shut the door. “Boo-tay!” She opened the closet and chucked both the Furby and Bop it in. She had had enough of talking toys for one night. She sat on the bed and stared at the nappy. With a sigh she wiggled out of her shorts and spread out the nappy. She sat in the center and tried to fasten it, but nothing she did worked. Was she supposed to fasten it around her hips or her belly button? She was growing more and more frustrated with every attempt. She could feel her temper boiling over. Another thing she couldn’t control. Great. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She buried her head in her arms and began to sob. Something cold was touching her head. She looked up. No one was there. She waited. There it was again. She felt something brushing her hair. It was like a cool hand was stroking her head. She eyed the space around her. What was this? Hortensia let out a gasp. She could feel a pressure on her chest, like a hand pressing against her. She was too startled to fight against it. She fell backward on the bed. She let out a low cry of fright. In the mirror hanging on Hazel’s closet door she could see the reflection of a woman hovering over her. Hortensia began to stammer. The invisible woman was now leaning over her. She shut her eyes tight. This was it. This was the end of the line. This was how she died. Cool lips pressed against her forehead. Hortensia opened her eyes. The pressure holding her down was gone. She looked in the mirror. She was alone. Hortensia sat up and stared. The nappy was now perfectly in place around her waist. Her eyes scanned the room. She was filled with a mixture of both fright and curiosity. She thought of the words on the mirror. “Who are you?” Hortensia asked the empty air. Something began to rattle on the nightstand. A picture frame. She picked it up and examined it. A smiling family looked back at her. It looked like a professional photoshoot you could get done at Christmas time at a department store. There was Brian, Zach, Nick, Hazel and… the woman! “You’re their mom?” The room remained quiet. Hortensia swallowed the lump in her throat. Her eyes began to water. “Please don’t go.” she whimpered before adding barely audible. “I’m scared.” She felt the bed shift like someone had sat down. She was alone in the mirror, but she could feel another presence beside her. Something was tugging her down again. She let it. Something cool to the touch was lying beside her. Hortensia scooted closer until her own body was enveloped by the chill. It felt wonderful in the hot room. “Thank you.” She whispered. She could smell a faint flowery scent in the air mixed with something she couldn’t quite place. It was comforting. She was too embarrassed to ever admit she missed Jenny tucking her in. She hadn’t known what to make of Jenny at first. Hortensia was suspicious of her. Everything always came with a price. But as the the days turned into weeks, Hortensia was starting to realize Jenny’s kindness didn’t come with a price tag and it made her feel even worse. Now she was scared. Scared that she had ruined their relationship. Scared of being sent away. Scared of him. He wasn’t always bad. That’s what angered her the most. He was smart. Witty. He’d offer to help her with her homework. He could be like a giant teddy bear. And he was generous with her. That’s all her mom saw; A kind father figure. But sometimes, when they were alone, he wanted repayment for his generosity. He’d ask. He’d beg. He’d guilt. He’d threaten. He’d take. Then he’d guilt again. Right now, he was in a taking mood. The realization that she had fallen into his trap made her sick. It had all clicked into place the moment Jenny had told her she was being thrown out. He had wanted her to come crawling to him with no where else to go. He wanted her to feel trapped. To feel alienated and cut off from anyone she could reach out too. Why would guards listen to an ex-con? No wonder her mom thought she was full of shit. But she had been so desperate to believe he could make her stay. And now her own mother wanted to serve her up to him on a silver platter. A soft musical chiming snapped her from her thoughts. She lifted her head and searched for the source. It was coming from both everywhere and nowhere at once. The light went out, plunging the room into darkness. She felt something cool touch her cheek, like a hand gently cradling her face. Her eye lids began to droop. She was too exhausted to be frightened. Her adrenaline had run out. She laid back down and listened to the soft music. She knew this song. Something to do with time. Jenny was humming it last night, at least she had thought it was Jenny. Now she wasn’t so sure. So this is what they had meant when they told her she could go back if she needed to. The house was haunted. But weren’t ghosts supposed to be scary? That’s how they were always depicted in comics and movies. She reached her hand out to the space beside her where a larger cooler hand met hers. In the darkness it was like she was really here lying beside her. “I’m scared.” Hortensia said softly. She wasn’t talking about the ghost. The invisible hand gave hers a reassuring squeeze before letting go. The bed began to creak. She felt arms wrap themselves around her torso. Her body began to sway. “Tell her!” The Bop It from inside the closet said. “I can’t!” Hortensia said. She could feel more tears begin to stream down her face. Finally, she gave in to the raging storm of emotions inside of her and began to sob. “I’ve pushed everyone away.” She began to hear a quiet voice softly sing along with the music. “...If your lost you can look and you will find me, time after time…” Maybe two weeks here wouldn’t be so bad.