direking

Hey! I thought that the idea that Layla should have to take the test came from you. I’m just happy that I found a way to tie that request into the plot. There are points I want to make with the story, and I think I might make it work. Yeah. I like it, too. This story is all about dogma and terminology. Maturosis is an amazing idea. The concept of plateaus and development gives Amazons the scientific proof that Littles need this kind of overzealous care. There is a system to their control, and I love the confusing aspect of whether Maturosis is real or is it manifested by Amazons. I hope that I can do it enough justice so others copy it. Amazons need to be put in their place, too. Beckie is certainly ‘diaper curious’. Let’s see how Dr. Mira helps her work through those issues. The dynamic between Debbie the stepmom and Mira the scientist isn’t going to change. Immaturosis is a condition that only affects younger Amazons (teens and twenties), and it doesn’t effect those who are older like Debbie. Beckie is confused about her feelings for Kaleb. Yes, he’s half-Little, but he’s also half-Big. He’s almost dating material, he’s almost diaper material, maybe she kind find a way for him to be both. Dr. Mira is just going to observe for another chapter. She already has plans for our sweet couple. And yes, he is drawn to her by forces beyond his control. Uh-oh. I don’t want to start trouble in paradise. Beckie was supposed to be a minor character, but her diaper based libido put her more into the plot. She may just be Kaleb’s happy ending in more than one way. ———- It took awhile to get back to the website this time around. Unfortunately, I think that’s going to be the new norm for me. There’s just less time for me to write these days, and I don’t think that’s going to change in the future. I wanted to write a new chapter every week, but it’s starting to look like every two to three weeks. I’m writing when I can, and I’m not even spell checking or grammar checking anymore, so it may be rougher around the edges for the sake of time. Anyways, thanks for reading! ——— Recessive 15 Surrender doesn’t exactly mean losing. Sometimes, it means living to fight again another day. This kind of thinking led to Kaleb’s distorted and pervasive world view. He certainly thought about views as the giant pair of breasts were heading his way. They were all he could see, and as they rubbed against his face, they were all he could feel. Still. No surrender. All of his life, he chose to kick the can down the road, putting off the inevitable diaper one day at a time. There were daily battles, some hard fought wins, others more padded losses. They’d say that he really ‘craved’ diapers, that his misbehavior was due to an ‘fixation’, and a lack of a mommy figure in his life. Amazon psychologists would give this half-in/half-out approach a name: Diaper Curious. If Maturosis was an error of the brain, a degenerative condition that led the body backwards instead of forwards, then Diaper Curious was the flame that lured the moth. In his defense, diapers ‘were’ curious things. Especially oversized ones. The wearable potties said so much about the baby, or the mommy, or whatever was fashionable or on sale at the time. It didn’t matter whether the diaper was extra thick for night time dryness, or a trainer-thin slip-on for potty training, or terry cloth with a pin for old time’s sake, or girly pink or little boy blue or covered in pastel designs with cars and trains and other baby things. The diaper defined the baby, Amazon marketing had told him that much. Kaleb had seen the commercials on the television, in cutesy internet ads, in print and on paper, and heard their head-spamming jingles on the radio. Whenever and wherever, he always seemed to notice them. He would look past the person he was talking with to see an oversized ad in the background. He'd perk his ears at the commercials on the television. He'd catch himself locked onto the flashing banners on various websites. Of course, he'd write it all off as just something silly about his personality. Kaleb could blame it on his attention deficit, or his experience of being forced into the cheapest of diaper brands at school, or being threatened with the softest of paddings at the whims of practically every Amazon adult in his life. But maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with Maturosis. Or being Diaper Curious. However, he’d never had a deep seated fascination of breasts like some of his classmates. His Big buddies would talk about women in three ways; their favorite involved their female classmates’ chests. So many words, and so many phrases, all to say the same thing: 'The bigger, the better'. That was just the Bigs, the smaller varieties were even worse. The freaking Littles would drop their jaws at the sight of top heavy Bigs, while he’d just laugh at the irony. They’d dive head first into that D-cup trap, it was in their nature to love every minute of their babyhood. And now that these huge breasts were in his face, he was beginning to see their appeal. That's what he thought about as his world slowed. The line of thinking had him actually considering an unconditional surrender. Maybe he wasn’t surrendering to the diaper, or the breasts, or the sensations, or the ceiling fan. Maybe he was surrendering to himself. Maybe Maturosis was offering him a bargain; give up potty privileges and you can get access to breasts, which seemed like a good deal — for just this one time. Surrender had a soft lure, and a tender hook. Yes. Yes. That’s right. The only way to 'get out' was to 'give in'. Perhaps victory will come at a later time maybe with better odds of success. Which makes surrender a perfectly viable strategy -- illogically. That logic stuff flew out the window around the same time Callie did. He had to considerate of his surroundings, he was lap-deep on a busty Amazon, and she was rapidly pulling herself free for him... No. He wasn't planning on surrendering, at least not right now. Maybe later, when it became more logical. Beckie tightened her grip around the back of his head. He pulled away with as much force as he could muster, and he was able to gain some distance as he pushed and pulled his upper half away from the Amazon. She was stronger. She was fighting, too. And with a desperate strength he wasn't used to. Truth be told, Kaleb was no Little. The Little guys didn't have the size, or the strength, or the willpower, to keep Beckie away. They would be helpless, and Kaleb wasn’t helpless. Not yet, at least. It took all he had to calm himself as she revealed the bountiful breasts smuggled in the cups her cute pink bra. With the same hand she used to pull up her T-shirt, she lowered the bra coverage of her left breast, casually revealing every bit of nipple. Beckie wasn't dripping milk like a leaky tap, or pushing it free like a faucet. In fact, it didn't appear that she was lactating at all. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t feel that she was physically willing and able. Her pink and puffy nipple was a bit more perky and thicker than he imagined. There was an inviting quality to its biological flushness, as her goose-pimples encircled the nipple, and her pale skin showed more color than before, like a dab of blush from a circular sponge. Beckie took a moment before she freed ‘the girls’. First it was her left breast, bountiful and overflowing, round and soft, and wonderfully pressing against his face. Then she freed her right, giving him equal access to her bosom. But true to form, Kaleb was having none of it. He used all of his power to resist the allure of her nudity. His senses picked up on every bit of his confusion, and her yearning. Beckie whispered to him, her voice husky and wanting, and yanking him free from his own fixations with a ragged breath. "Come on, Kay." No. No. No. That word was always so easy to say, but it wasn't leaving his lips. Kaleb knew as soon as he opened up to speak, a nipple would shoved between his lips. Then, what? Surrender? "Come on," she urged again, "you need to bond." Bond? That's the last thing in the world that he wanted, or needed. He didn't want to 'bond', he wanted to break free. With a quick jerk, Kaleb shook the hand grip from behind his neck. He closed his eyes to the enticing nipple and wiggled free from her firm grip around his back. Only to be surprised by the return of her hand and its renewed fervor, this was going to happen on her schedule, and not his. "Open up, sweetie." Beckie wasn't letting squirm out of this one so easily. “Come on, it’s good for you.” The Amazon was talking about his mouth. If he could control one part of his body, when all seemed lost and gone to the dumps, it was his mouth. Open and closed. Easy enough. If Maturosis had plans on destroying his brain, he couldn’t fight it, and he’d have to manage with toddler thoughts. If Maturosis planned on pulling the strength from his arms and legs, he’d learn how to crawl from place to place. If this damn disorder took away his toileting, he’d learn how to get along in diapers. But his mouth was his mouth, and his mantra would be an easy one. Keep it closed. Simple. Stupid. Easy to do. Almost as easy as making it to the toilet on time. Wait. Beckie pressed his face into her breast, slamming him boob-to-cheek a couple of times as they caught as quietly as they could. She managed to get him to a spot where he couldn’t wriggle away, clutching him tightly behind the neck and in the crook of her elbow, effectively turning herself into the most form fitting cradle in the world. “Alright, Kay,” Beckie chastised as she held him tighter. “I didn’t want to be the bad guy…” To his horror, Kaleb watched her form a pair of pinchers with their index and thumb that went straight for his nose. Like chopsticks of pain and suffering, they came for his face and he was unable to move away. “Open up, little one.” The tactile strength of the Amazons was notorious; its what kept the 'Little Proof' tapes on the diaper, the 'Little Proof' zipped on the footies, and the 'Little Proof' snapped on the onesies. Baby products may have been advertised as 'Little Proof', but it was all about the finger-strength of the Amazons, and Beckie was no different. Kaleb found that out as her pinchers reached his nose, squeezing so hard that he yelped in pain. Kaleb squealed, "Ah!" Then he was immediately muffled by a mouthful of Beckie breast, which tasted like soap and skin, and something else. There was a hint of candy flavor perfume that played tricks with his taste buds, and it’s sticky sweetness came with electric excitement and childish shame. "OH yes!" Beckie gasped as his mouth made contact. "Now, suck. Sweetie. Just suck." Kaleb shook his head and groaned, with made her breast vibrate in his mouth. Okay. It was in his mouth. No big deal. He wasn’t nursing. One thing he wasn’t going to was ‘suck’, he’d done enough ‘sucking’ all ‘sucking’ weekend. Yes, a boob was in his mouth, but he wasn’t going to suck. It was the Little things. “Let’s get that mouth to work,” Beckie softly chided as she rubbed the sides of his cheeks. “Your bottom is probably all backed up, this will help loosen things, and that diaper of yours is as dry as a bone.” As if by second nature, her cradling hand floated its way between his legs, giving the padding between his legs a good squeeze. She brought her fingers together into somewhat off cup, using her palm to caress the front side bulge. Her ‘cup’ hand did more than check his dry diaper, it lingered and caressed. It willfully hung around and encouraged him with every feather-like touch. Beckie could be mighty persuasive with her hand around his crotch. Kaleb could feel the heat rise in his face and in his diaper. The thirsty padding wrapped around him like a form fitting pillow. It felt too good to argue against, like it had the right idea, and Kaleb was the one clutching at straws to come up with an argument. Like why not let her touch him? If it felt good, so it couldn’t be bad. Illogical. Or logical. Either way, he found himself opening his hips, and spreading his thighs wider to give her more access. He also found himself doing more than just avoiding the nipple in his mouth. What harm could come if he gave it a little suckle? Beckie was doing her best to give him something nice, why shouldn’t he give something back in return? Perfectly illogical. “That’s it, Kay.” Beckie massaged his crotch with the most wonderful touch. “This is how you bond with a mommy. The textbook says so in chapter eighteen: all about mommies.” Instead of battling her chest with his hands, he found them wrapping around the boob in his mouth. One in a tightly balled fist, the other an open palm resting against her warm chest. Both hands pressed into her flesh, grabbing and pulling, as his mouth only did what was natural. His lips pursed around her nipple, which was noticeably more aroused and ready — like it knew exactly what Kaleb wanted and need, so he wanted and kneaded the breast in return. Compulsion is as powerful a drug as any, capable of pulling away even the strongest of of defenses. So why not surrender? It was only a breast. Not a bottle. Not a pacifier. All organic and fit perfectly between his pursed lips. Shoot, it was already in his mouth and he was latched and ready to go. He’d save his energy to fight the tougher fights, the ones involving soiling Mr. Teddy Bear diaper. His mind was already made up as Beckie starting stroking him through his diaper. She could feel his walls beginning to come down. “There we go, baby. Just like with the pacifier.” And Kaleb sucked — just like with the pacifier. He didn’t know what to expect as he took a long drag. There wasn't any liquid, the lack of milk was beyond his basic understanding of Amazon anatomy, maybe he wasn't 'pulling' hard enough with his mouth. At the same time, he knew he shouldn’t use his teeth; because he didn’t want to hurt Beckie, not when she was making him feel so, so good. Every bit of her touch felt like an overheated charge, sparks a-flying with every movement, his need pulsing between his legs with every heartbeat. Kaleb moaned into her breast, which made her hand move faster and his diaper was soon rustling against his bare thighs and naked belly. Electricity shot through him as he rode the carousel of pleasure. He rocked his hips up and down to rhythm of her pressing hand. He was hard. He was breathing heavy. Kaleb was about to let loose in his diaper, and he didn’t even think twice about it. Was this the dreaded ‘surrender’ he’d fought his entire life? If it was. Sign him up. Surrender felt like the first bite of a chocolate cake, and it came without calories or consequences. Illogically, of course. There was a 'naughtiness' deep within this act, and even while under the influence of Maturosis, Kaleb tried not to pass judgement on himself and let the good feelings flow. And they were certainly flowing, pleasure poured out the crotch of his diaper, blinding him from any kind of reflection. He knew there would be regrets later, but the moment took him away by storm. “Oh, yes. Oh, yes.” Beckie pressed herself against him. She was just as out of control as Kaleb. “This feels so freaking good, so don’t you dare stop!” Kaleb wasn’t planning on stopping until he popped. He wasn’t in the right place mentally, but who cared? Maturosis does what Maturosis does, and he wasn’t about to argue with biology and genealogy and other natural selection thingies. There was boob in the mouth and all he had to do was suck. “Don’t stop!” Beckie urged as she kept her hand on his diaper. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Her voice was reaching a crescendo, which meant only one thing. Someone he knew was about to get more damp in the panties, her labored breathing and excited squeals told him that much. He bucked into her cupped hand and she pressed her breasts into his face. They formed some kind of babyish 'ying and yang'. A circular rendition of a power play that went on and on, spinning as mommy nurtured baby and baby pleasured mommy, going round and round, almost like a ceiling fan. Yes. Round and round they went. Soft grunts. Heavy pets. His surrender let all of his anxieties out the window; like Callie the escaping Little, they were long gone and a thing of the past. For once, Kaleb wasn't worried about how others saw him. Mostly because they couldn't. Under the shade of the plastic pants, beneath the end table with an obscuring lap shade, they quietly connected just out of plain sight. This was almost surreal, Kaleb heard his stepmom finish up Charlotte's change, her chipper voice cutting through the mostly quiet room as she dsecribed to the teen Amazon how she was clean, sweet smelling, and ready to play. Then she wrapped up the spent diaper in plastic bag, loud and crinkling, 'whewing' away like a runaway train. "Hey, Beckie?" Debbie called out from the real world in the living room. The two of them immediately froze. Kaleb mid-thrust and mid-suck, and Beckie coiled her arms around him, freezing Kaleb in place. They were going to be totally caught now, what in the world was he thinking? Beckie responded with a clear inquisitive, "Yes?" "Could you be a doll and open up the window?" Debbie ask as she stood up from the ground. "We need to freshen up the room from Charlotte's stinky diaper." His stepmom's face rose just above the canopy, over the horizon that kept them hidden from view, and now she could see the two of them in suedo-nursing flagrante. This was going to be 100%, totally bad. When she caught onto the goings-on, Debbie's face immediately soured. "What are the two of you doing back there?" Caught! And twice in one day! This time was different, however. Kaleb could've hidden back in the corner forever. Unfortunately, the 'regrets' were beginning to tally in his mind, as this awkward moment provided the kind of reflection of a pristine lake beneath snow capped mountains. The feeling 100% sucked, even more than he did just moments before. "Um..." Beckie flipped Kaleb around and gave his butt another sniff. "I thought he was stinky, since he was hiding back here and staying really quiet, and you all know what that means. The textbook explains that when Littles seek quiet, they're usually looking for a chance to pop a squat." "Pop a squat?" His stepmom guffawed. "I'm not so sure if that's textbook talk." "Oh, that's not in the textbook," Beckie said with a cheeky grin. "That's all mommy talk, the kind we use when we're trying to help our sweet Kay adjust to his condition." "That's nice." Debbie nodded along as she lifted the plastic bag with the crumpled spent diaper. "How is his condition? Of his diaper, I mean." At that note, Beckie lifted him from beneath his armpits, standing Kaleb up on the carpet. His hands shot over the front of his diaper, since there was pretty hard 'evidence' of his good time poking through the face of a smiling Teddy on his front padding. With a pair of fingers, Beckie pulled out the waistband of his level two Detector-protector. Then she peered down the his naked backside for a moment, lingering longer than she should have, since she already knew the answer to her question. Kaleb halfway participated in the ruse. Mostly because he was frozen 'stiff'. However, as the moment drug on and on, he began to wonder why Beckie was taking her sweet time back there. Since the room sat on egg shells waiting for the news on his clean diaper. "I'm not stinky," he defended himself louder and more petulant than he wanted. "It was all Charlotte." "Are you sure?" Debbie side eyed him. "Big boys don't lie about their diapers." Kaleb scrunched his face. "I don't poop my pants." His stepmom only chuckled. "You're not wearing pants, sweetie." "All clean," Beckie killed the mystery. "It's so good that you went behind the couch to check on him," Dr. Mira said as she handled one of the Cushioning test's screens. "You never know what the little ones might put in their mouths." The seemingly ever-omniscient doctor gave the two of them a knowing look, painting an even darker shade of rosy blush on both of their cheeks. Kaleb was quick to face the corner, tapping at the crotchside of his diaper, trying to bang his boner back into flacid submission. Control. This was all about control. Kaleb needed to get his 'controls' in order. He needed to control his weiner, control his emotions, control his 'suckling', and he needed to control his potty functions. This day downward spiraled from the moment he woke up from his bed, and he needed to put everything back in order. But where would he begin? "Kaleb, honey.” Dr. Mira peered at him over her soul-scoping glasses. "I would like for you to come sit next to me." He immediately felt the dangerous undertones of that simple request. "Do I have to?" "No." Mira shook her head. "You don't have to do anything you don't want." "Then I'll stay right here," he replied, then he crossed his arms in retaliation. "I like the corner, it’s nice and safe.” "I'd bet that you do," Mira said with a laugh. "Especially when you have company." Insinuation. Plain and simple. Debbie gave him a discerning look. "Kay-Kay, I think you should go sit next to Dr. Mira." His hands shot up in the air. "Why?" "I think you would benefit with having a nice talk with her," answered his stepmother. "She is a specialist in the field of Maturosis. Maybe you can convince her that you don't have Maturosis, try to explain how this is all some big mistake. You owe yourself that much." "I do?" Kaleb felt the warm hug of optimism. “You’ll let me talk my way out of this?” It all sounded too good to be true. If he could convince the scientist that this was all some Big homework gone wrong, Layla would be the one in trouble. This was finally some good news, but he was still pretty wary. Especially since Mira didn’t seem like the those to change her mind about anything. “Of course you can,” Dr. Mira offered a space to sit with a pat on the couch cushion beside her. "We can have a good talk once we send the girls on their secret, special mission." He asked, "What secret, special mission?" “Come here so I can tell you.” Mira compelled him with a curling finger as he made a few steps towards the doctor on the couch. Just like that, Kaleb found himself making his way to the sitting scientist, drawn to her like she was a solution to his problem. Maybe his stepmom was right, a good conversation could set things straight. He'd say his piece, and she would laugh, and then he would be well on his way out of this weekend. A growing Tweener could only hope, right? Dr. Mira seemed to look at him and through him as he approached, eyeing the diaper at his waist, his halfway waddling gait, and she had a special disdain for his black t-shirt. Something told him that he'd have to have a wardrobe change by the time she was done with him. As he sat on the couch, Kaleb folded his arms together, sliding his palms between his thighs as a perfect example of placid submission. If Mira oozed confidence, Kaleb oozed surrender. He didn't dare look at her and her research, only at the ceiling fan above. No one had turned on the damn thing in all of this time. “So,” he started into his question. “What’s the secret?” “If we told you,” replied Mira. “It wouldn’t be a secret.” “Hey!” Kaleb glared at her. “You tricked me.” Dr. Mira only ruffled his hair, a reminder of who he now belonged to on this sofa. At least he got to sit on the furniture again, that was a plus. “You’re cute when you’re angry,” she said as she wagged a finger in his face. “But don’t get too fussy, we wouldn’t want to get a spanking.” No. He didn’t want that. Not at all. "Alright..." Beckie awkwardly chuckled as she side-stepped to the windows. "About them windows, what do I need to do to open them?" "There's a brass lever at the base of the pane." Debbie made a little turning motion with her hand. "You turn it counter clockwise and you'll have yourself an open window." Beckie followed her orders and worked on the window, but that baby wasn't budging. She used one hand, then brought over the other, yanking at the crank with all of her might. "You might have to use a little elbow grease," offered Debbie. "The darn thing is more stubborn than Kaleb.” Yeah, even sitting next to Dr. Mira still meant ‘catching strays’. “I’m not that stubborn,” he argued. “Of course you’re not,” said Mira at his side, she was starting to get uncomfortably ‘touchy-feelie’ with him. “You’re just learning about yourself, don’t be so sensitive to others. Childish sensitivity is a symptom of Maturosis. Your body is going through so many changes, and everything feels raw and sensitive. Doesn’t it?” Kale thought for a moment. “I guess.” “I know you don’t truly understand Maturosis, but even you’d have to admit that you’re noticing things about yourself,” continued Mira. “Things that others had said, things that were too sensitive to hear. The truth normally hurts, but we must be receptive to hear what we need to hear. Do you know about ‘cravings’ and ‘fixations’? Did you sister explain those to you?” Kaleb scrunched his face again. Layla said nothing about those things. “Can we just please stop talking about all of this? It’s giving me a headache.” Dr. Mira rubbed at his bare thigh, her hands felt warm against his cold skin. “All of this will happen in due time,” she said softly. “Not mine. Not your stepmom. It’s all about you and Maturosis, so you’ll be willing to ‘push’ when you’re ready.” He raised an eyebrow. “Push?” Giving him a sense that she knew something he didn’t know, Dr. Mira warmly smiled and rubbed her hand up and down his leg in a purely scientific and platonic way. She lowered her lips to his ear, her minty breath and sudden proximity made the hairs on his neck stiffen straight. “When the time comes… you’ll need to show me that you’re ready to use your diaper. For number one….” Dr. Mira let her whisper echo for a long torturous moment. “And you’ll learn to ‘push’ out a number two. Don’t worry, I’ll help you for other ways to use your diaper. We will ease you into everything. We don’t want you falling down to another plateau, do we?” “No….” He suddenly felt so cold and alone. “We don’t want that.” Debbie watched the two of them interact as she carried the stinky diaper to the smell-sealed trash can in the kitchen. It shouldn’t have surprised him that even their garbage can was prepared for Little visitors and their Little presents. He heard the trash can lid fall back into place, before his stepmom returned to the living room with her hands on her hips. “Are we opening the window or what?” Beckie shook her head. “I can’t move this freaking thing!” “That’s because you’re doing it wrong." All eyes went to Layla who stood at the edge of the living room, where the beige carpet met the hallway in a seamless transition. She wore the same loose fitting shirt, but her black shorts much bigger, going almost to the knees. They did a decent job of hiding her puffy level one DP. However, Kaleb could see the elastic waistline of the pull-up sneak out of the concealing shorts. It was probably worse at the butt, Kaleb didn’t make it a habit to stare at his stepsister’s rear end. The room remained quiet as she made her way to the windows, pushing her friend aside before ratcheting the glass pane free from the window frame. There was totally a tiny bulge at Layla’s butt. Hilarious. “It’s so easy…” Layla growled at her friend. “I don’t know why you’re not the Little helper. You’re the one that’s more Diaper Curious than I am.” Beckie grabbed the back of Layla's shorts and gave the elastic a nice pull and a hard snap. "Nice pull-up, Lay. Did you steal it from Callie?” Dear old stepsister didn't like that kind of insinuation. Not at all. "Well, Beckie." Layla gathered herself as she smoothed over her shorts. "Maybe you can end up in something just as nice. Miss I-get-turned-on-by-diapers. Why don't we go over his arousal meter while you were changing his diaper... or showing him how to rub one out in his pamper? I'd bet Dr. Mira would really like to get that into her Immaturosis research." Beckie scowled at her friend. "You little...." "Now, Now." Dr. Mira raised both palms up like she was softly stopping traffic with a feathered touch, putting a stop to the girl’s verbal tussle. "I'll have you know that Beckie will be helping me, since I'm well aware of certain indiscretions. As for you, I need you and your mother to run some errands. You’re going to need to do some clothes shopping, pick out some outfits for your younger brother, it will give you a chance to reveal your feelings about him. I think your mother wants to take you to a hairdresser, and we may want to escalate both wardrobes. I suggest the store “Just Like my Little”. You getting this all down, Debbie?” “Yes, ma’am.” Stepmom hesitated before asking. “But what about what we already got?” “I have plans for those outfits — don’t worry, it’ll all come out of my expenses, just like your stipend. It’s just more shopping for Layla, think of what she needs to battle through and make it cute for your princess. Also, I want her to pick some outfits out for Kaleb. Keeping in mind the various levels of plateaus. We don’t know how far he may fall before the weekend is over. We might have a newborn here.” “Wait a second,” Layla interjected. “What is going on with our wardrobes?” Dr. Mira grabbed Kaleb by chest cloth of the jet black tee, shaking him around as if he was exhibit A in fashion court. Despite her calm demeanor, Dr. Mira had quite the angry grip, with experienced hands that knew their way around an obstinate Little, or an out of place Betweener. Kaleb just let himself be rocked from side to side like a ragdoll. “Alright, Layla.” Dr. Mira clenched her teeth at his stepsister just as hard as she clenched his shirt. “You claim that you’ve done your research, but do you recall color theory and its impact on Maturosis?” Layla appeared to be taken off guard by Mira’s question. Which was weird, because it wasn’t a tough question. Still, his stepsis began stumbling back a step, trying to escape from the center of attention and all the cold stares that it entailed. “I know color theory, but he dressed himself! I would have picked out something different, but we were busy putting together our notes for Escalation notation.” “Dressed himself?” Mira glared at his stepsister with the heat of a thousand suns. “You put him in Escalation and you still let him dress himself? I’d like to see where that strategy is discussed in your textbook, because I certainly didn't write it." Layla stammered, "I can explain.." "No, you can't." Mira wouldn't let her off the hook so easily. "That's the problem with your generation. You're so busy talking that you never find the time to listen. If you want an explanation, you have to go to the active scientist in the room. You know, the one with thousands of hours of research under her belt. You knew that you weren't handling his Cushioning test correctly, and yet you still try to defend your actions as if it’s based on fact. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young lady." Layla bit at her lip and looked to her mother for help, but she only got a scowl and short shake of the head. Kaleb then followed her eyes to Charlotte who was frozen stiff on the changing pad pretending not to exist. Then to Beckie who only stepped away into the 'nursing corner'. His stepsister was left to fend for herself, so much for that patented cheerleader team spirit. "I knew that he needed to wear a pastel," Layla explained as her gaze never left the floor. "I know color theory, I just didn't want to upset him further. He just had a potty accident, and I didn't want him to fall into another plateau." "He’s rapidly deteriorating because you’re not addressing his basic needs," replied Dr. Mira, she turned to Kaleb and pinched at his blushing cheek. "Babies crave being cute. They love a thick diaper, the feeling of a caretaker’s smile. They fixate on pastel colors, smiles, shapes and feels. This shirt doesn’t cut it.” “What do you want me to say?” Layla shrugged. “I’m sorry?” “You should be sorry about the possibilities that you’re passing up. Just think about how cute and happy he'd be in a nice baby blue, or a soft teal, or a masculine pink. There are so many canary covered shortalls or purple dinosaur onesies. He'd make a cute little bear with a baby bear shirt and a baby bear diaper..." Layla looked lost. “I know, but I…” Debbie gave her daughter a dirty look. "I can't believe you, Lay-Lay." “What mom?” Debbie let her daughter have it, grabbing the torch from their celebrity scientist. “You’re not helping Kay feel cute and welcome in his new role. Listen. I don’t know all of that science stuff like you do, but I know Littles and babies, and they love that kind of attention because they’re so precious.” "What if I don't want to wear those things?" Kaleb asked as he found his voice. "I like the color black." Dr. Mira repositioned herself on the couch to give him some of his own spotlight. "Is that so?" Kaleb wanted to slap himself for opening his mouth, anything he said would be used against him in the fashion court. At the same time, he knew that they'd not stop at the diaper, there were new depths of their humiliating depravity. Ones he was not prepared to surrender to. "Yeah," he said, then licked his lips. They still tasted a bit like Beckie boob - if that were possible. "Black is slimming and goes with just about anything." He watched Dr. Mira briefly consider his opinion on his own fashion. Fashion court had its own nuance, and it appeared that Judge Mira was about to step in line with the defense. Which in this strange case was him. She smiled at Kaleb and peered at him through her glasses. The scientist then twisted her hips and went back to the research, and reorganized a few of the discarded papers and revealing one of the small devices that previously belonged to either Beckie or his stepsister. Mira pulled free a smooth black stylus and tapped the side of the screen as she prepared to interview him for some reason. "How would you describe your mental state, Kaleb?" He was startled to say the least. "Wait? What?" "Your mental state," Dr. Mira repeated. "How do you feel right now? Happy. Sad. Excited. Constipated. Remember not to lie, you're still wearing those wave readers." Kaleb gave it brief thought. Not long enough to register on the almost invisible electrodes that ran across his head, but long enough to come to some conclusions. This conversation needed to end and fast; he didn't want to get into a verbal spar with Dr. Mira the world renowned 'Little Whisperer'. "I don't want to talk about my feelings in front of everyone," Kaleb offered with a shrug. “Of course you don’t,” Mira gently let off the hook. “You're certainly not lying about that, sweetie. However, you’re far too cute to be left alone. I can see the effects of Maturosis in your softness features, in the pitch of your voice.” Without warning, Dr. Mira pulled him atop her lap and wrapped a constricting arm around him to keep him from squirming away. It was probably meant to be a hug, but it came off as more of a hostage situation. "We need to discuss where you are on your plateau, and we need to work out mode of your ‘tension’. That's the reason that we're sending everyone out of the house but you and Beckie. I think the two of you need some alone time." Insinuation in the first degree. Kaleb couldn’t believe it. His eyes shot over to the Amazon teen in the corner, she was barely containing a smile. Oh, man. He'd be lying to himself if the idea of more 'corner time' didn't give him a tiny tingle in the wee-wee parts. "You both have some explorations to do, some inner turmoil to discover," continued Mira, her words tickled his soul. "Sometimes the path out of Immaturosis requires facing whatever is holding you back. Through my new method we will remove every immature obstacle, and get Beckie on the right path.” Beckie took a big gulp. She was now just as deep as he and Layla. Yet, she didn’t seem so destroyed by the possibilities. “As for you, my sweet boy, we need to help you get to the other side of your Maturosis. Get past your potty anxiety. Welcome your new wardrobe. Recognize your new roles. We will find new games to play, and face your deepest fears, and most likely find out that it won't be all that bad. Charlotte will go home. Layla will go get a makeover. Beckie will help me with our next 'test'. And during all of that, you and I will have a wonderful talk, and I'm sure you'll start to see things my way." Kaleb looked down at the rainbow alphabet floor mat, then up at the non-moving ceiling fan. Maybe surrender wasn't as bad of a strategy as he thought, maybe then they'd turn on the ceiling fan, and it'd all go back to normal. Then again, his normal wasn't exactly as good as other's normals, since there were ceiling fans and sponges as far as the eye could see. “What will we talk about?” Kaleb peered up at the know-it-all Amazon. “I don’t know anything about anything. I don’t understand science or remember any geography. I’m useless here.” “Don’t be silly, Kaleb,” Dr. Mira replied with a soft voice. “We’re going to talk about the most important subject in the world, the one where you are truly an expert: we’re going to learn all about you.”

Sorry for the long wait. It’s just been tough to break away to write lately. I will try to get to responding to comments at a later time, I just wanted to quickly post so I can move onto the next chapter — which will be super interesting for both Beckie and Kaleb. So major apologies for not replying to messages and comments. Thanks for reading! …. Recessive 14 Things always start simple, but they hardly ever end that way. Layla had thought she would be the one in charge all weekend long, that she would set the terms and conditions. However, Dr. Mira and her mom had a different experiment in mind. One that involved her on the testing end just like her Tweener stepbrother, and Layla was about to find out that ‘simple’ isn’t as ‘simple’ as advertised. “It’s very simple, Lay-Lay,” Debbie said as she settled down to change Charlotte, who was already flat on the mat with her skirt hitched above the waist. “Take off your panties and step into the level 1 DP, then we can get started on your behavioral study.” “That’s where you’re wrong, mom.” Layla had a dark look about her as she glared at the princess themed pull-up in her hands. “I didn’t sign up to do this Immaturosis test, so I’m not going to put on the DP, and nothing you say is going to make me do it.” His stepmom stifled a hearty laugh, which came off as a little melodramatic, but went with the territory when her ways were being questioned. “Well, look at the sass on you, Miss Fancy Panties. I think we’ve all heard this kind of talk before. The whiny-butt excuses like ‘I didn’t agree to this’, ‘this is unfair to me’, and ‘I wasn’t the one to poop my diaper’. You sound just like any Little who got tripped up by adulthood, and exactly like Kay-Kay, is that someone you want to sound like?” Kaleb would have to bypass his stepmom’s insinuation by comparison to enjoy this moment. He’d manage, somehow. “I don’t want to sound disrespectful,” said Layla. “But you can’t just thrust an experiment onto someone — that’s not fair.” Debbie rummaged through the colorful diaper bag at her side, producing a thick white folded disposable for Charlotte. She tapped the clean diaper to the laying girl’s inner thigh, making the teen spread her legs even further apart. “At least we have one well behaved girl around here,” Debbie said with a smirk. “I’m perfectly well-behaved!” argued Layla, as she angrily pointed to the floor. “I don’t need a diagnostic for anything like Maturosis. I don’t display any symptoms, I don’t have any cravings and I am perfectly in line with my peer group.” “You’re quite right about not displaying any symptom of Maturosis — but we are testing for something different,” Dr. Mira said as she stepped into the fray. Her lab coat wooshed in like a cape, and she pushed her glasses further up her nose. “While carrying some commonalities between them, these two disorders are quite different and are treated as such.” “They are?” Layla shifted her attention away from the pull-up in her hands. “If it’s different, then why am I supposed to wear a DP? It’s all so confusing.” “When you listen instead of speak, it’s actually simple,” Mira answered coolly. “Maturosis is a cognitive impairment while Immaturosis is a behavioral issue. Since you’re so confused would you like for me to explain for you like you were four years old?” “No,” countered Layla, “I’d like you to explain to me like I’m nineteen.” Dr. Mira chuckled. “Alright, fine. Immmaturosis is like a climb up a tall mountain. Imagine the many pitfalls and various grips, some parts are harder to traverse and sometimes there’s slippage. This mountain is all about learning to adult and processing adult responsibilities, all the while shedding immature thoughts and actions. When young people fall, they need to go up the same old paths a second time but do it right this time — its treatment involves going backwards to go forwards.” Debbie asked, “How is that any different from Maturosis?” “Good question, Debbie. Maturosis is even more simple. Think of it as falling down said ‘mountain’, learning coping strategies for each and every bounce from rock to rock, and bracing for impact at the next plateau. Unfortunately, those with the disorder always keep falling. It has everything to do with biology.” “It’s in a Little’s nature to want someone else to pick them up, to clean their messes, and to take care of them. Betweeners who suffer from an overactive Little side tend to seek the same treatment. In fact, there are indications that they crave it even harder because they’re so close to being a Little, yet so far away.” Kaleb mimicked the ‘so close but so far away’ part just out of Mira’s keen sight. He wasn’t brave enough to poke that bear face to face. Unfortunately, no one was asking the real questions, like why did all of the Maturosis metaphors have to do with geography? “All of this is supported by our experiments,” continued Dr. Mira. “We need to constantly gather new data to further understand these conditions. This is important research, Layla. We need your baseline as we try to get to the root of the Immaturosis epidemic.” “There is no such thing as an Immaturosis epidemic,” insisted Layla, she was still trying to process all of the mountain talk. “I follow all of the scientific journals, and this is the first time I’ve heard of it.” “I always knew there was something wrong with your generation,” Debbie started into a tirade, she was giving Layla a harsh look, one usually reserved for Kaleb. “You may look easy for the real world, but you only know how to look pretty and play, that’s baby stuff. I’m happy that it now has a name: Immaturosis. It was so simple that it was staring us in the face this entire time. And Lay-Lay, you’ve always been such a Big help before, why don’t you put away that frown and be a good Little helper?” His stubborn stepsister vehemently shook her head. “I’m not trying to start a fight here, I didn’t agree to being a helper. I was just doing a homework assignment when I accidentally discovered that Kaleb has Maturosis. I mean, the hints were there and everything, but this was the first time we had scientific proof.” “See, honey?” Debbie mulled over the folded diaper heading Charlotte’s direction, sliding a thumb against its pastel design and shiny tapes. “We are just operating in the same space as your experiment. And who knows what we may find out about you and your friends?” Based upon the scowl, Layla wasn’t buying what her mother was selling. “It’s not the same, mom, and you know it.” “I like it when you fuss,” Debbie gushed, as she wiggled a little finger towards her daughter. “It makes you look so cute, almost as cute as you’d look in that pull-up.” While his stepsister turned bright red like a fire truck, Kaleb tried to imagine what was going through his stepsister’s overactive mind. He could almost see her navigating through this Immaturosis minefield, but she didn’t have a clue about this Immaturosis thing— no one did. Well, besides Dr. Mira. Diapers. Pull-ups. Baby stuff. Layla couldn’t believe for one second that this would happen to her — and all of her precious ‘simple’ was now a thing of the past. Her problem still was kinda ‘simple’, as he far as he could see it. The baby treatment was all ‘old hat’ for Kaleb, but an entirely new experience for Layla. He had learned to adapt to his misfortunes from birth; to put up with diapers and pacifiers and bottles and pants-checks and letters sent home from school. That came with the territory of being a Tween in a Big world. Due to his recessive gene, his world already came disassembled from out of the box; so Kaleb had no idea what it was like to have it fall apart right in front of his very eyes. Very much unlike his dear old, sweet and lovable stepsister. Layla had to suffer in her own living room, in front of her family and best friends, and at the whims of her role-model, or hero, or whatever you call a celebrity scientist. He could only imagine what it felt like; probably a lot like sand trickling away in the wind, and the pull-up was like a shovel that only dug deeper. Layla was supposed to be perfect. Too smart to fall for this treatment, too pretty to put up with this crap, and altogether too ‘Layla’ to be threatened into being the baby. Now, what could she do? Nothing. And more nothing. His stepsister was dead to rights. Amazon or not, pack leader or not, alpha cheerleader or not, it no longer mattered. No amount of planning could avoid this oncoming hurricane, and there were no contingencies for these kinds of curveballs. Everyone was suddenly turning against her, and she had no earthly idea how to voice that kind of frustration. Her immediate downfall rested on an invisible tightrope, and both Debbie and Mira had the kerosene and pack of matches at the ready. Kaleb fought a nice smile as he watched it all go down in flames. “Just do what we say for once,” offered Debbie. “Be a good girl, put on the pull-up and take the test. I think you’ll find that it’s no big deal, unless you think we will find that you’re not as mature as you pretend.” “Oh, no-no-no!” Layla wagged her finger at her mom as she tried to correct the course of her afternoon. “I don’t need to put this on to help you with your test. Come on, you really expect me to fall for that one. This is a toddler diaper, meant for bed-wetting Littles, and I’m not wearing it.” “What a pity…” Dr. Mira spoke as she took notes, proving she had the brain capacity to do two different things at the same time. “I had you penned as a real scientist, someone mature enough to do whatever it takes.” Their new house guest was absolutely in her element. The living space had been transformed into some kind of Maturosis experiment zone, and Dr. Mira flowed about the room, quietly surveying the scene, and hyper-focused like a laser in a lab coat. As he watched her work, Kaleb wondered what she furiously wrote into her electronic notepad. There were probably big words and Big words, researchy-things and observations a-plenty. The perfect kind of textbook junk that Layla was all about. His stepsister should have been having the time of her life, but things were spiraling out of her nexus of control, and even Dr. Mira’s very presence put his stepsister on edge. “This isn’t science,” insisted Layla. “This is something else.” “It’s just a different kind of underwear,” said Debbie. “You’re overreacting, which is a top ten symptom of Immaturosis, according to Dr. Mira’s self-published textbook.” Layla scoffed at her mom, giving as much bad attitude as she could without appearing too petulant. “Wait? What? When have you ever been a reader? I know it’s not in my textbook, a real textbook. Trust me, I’ve read that thing cover to cover, and there is nothing about Immaturosis coming from any of the other experts.” “It’s in the new edition that hasn’t been published yet,” admitted Mira, she put aside her notepad before coming to terms with Layla. “You can fetch one of my copies from my car when you unload my supplies. But first you need to become my Little helper, and that can only happen when you put on your Detector-Protector like a good girl.” No quick reply this time, his stepsister rolled the disposable underwear in her hands as she went over her options. The elasticity of the pull-up was stretched to its limits, just like Layla. The walls were closing in, her eyes darted from side to side to check for invisible traps around every mental corner. “What about the wave readers?” Layla kept asking questions in an obvious attempt to stall. “Am I going to have to wear those as well?” “Just get the DP on your precious bottom,” Dr. Mira expressed with a face as relenting as concrete. “And then I can explain how wrong you’ve been thinking about this whole thing.” Without another argument at the ready, a wonderfully morose Layla helplessly stared down at the pull-up. “Dr. Mira, if I may have a word.” Debbie looked up over her shoulder at the good doctor. “I want to apologize for my daughter’s behavior. Her obstinacy comes from my failure to raise her properly, something I plan on changing in my household. In fact, I have half a mind to pull down those workout shorts, and put that DP on her, then maybe ‘putting’ her over my knee.” Yikes… Insinuation! “Good idea, Debbie, but I don’t think it will come to that.” Dr. Mira circled Layla from just out of reach, tapping the stylus to her lips. “I think Layla is going to war against her own immaturity right now. Her inner narcissistic child wants to battle the cultivating blossom of womanhood. To get to where she needs to be, she’s going to have to let go of the things she wants to do.” “What’s that even mean?” asked Layla. “I believe you can figure it out.” Mira only fiendishly smiled. "And if you disagree with my research, what a great opportunity you'll have to prove it wrong. But I have to warn you, I'm not wrong very often." This drama was getting too good, and he wasn’t even on the stage this time, which made it the best kind of drama. Where was he watching all of this play out? Behind the couch, of course. The front side of the couch was too busy with all of the arguing, and there was a dirty diaper change on the horizon, he didn’t want to be near ground zero when that happened. This was all just a ‘sneak’ game, just like in video games. The rules were simple: stay out of sight, don’t make noise, and don’t draw ‘aggro’. It was important to play this kind of thing ‘tactically’. Luckily, Kaleb was smart when it came to video games. Kaleb peered over the backside of the couch, watching the Amazons work through their problems at a safe distance. He never appreciated this tiny space between the long sofa and the trio of windows to the backyard. This was the first time for him to slide back here for a visit, and it was pretty nice for a spot that kept old trash and where the remote would sometimes hide. There was just enough room for him to squeeze back here, and he appreciated the combination of a super cozy and being away from prying eyes. He enjoyed the privacy of this crawl space, it made his entire body relax. The peace of mind wasn’t quite as good as an air-circulating ceiling fan or flicking the wheels on a toy dump truck, but he felt as if he could stay hidden on his hands and knees forever without being bothered. “I still don’t want to wear this thing,” Layla said mostly to herself. “This study is not research based and I never heard of any of these concepts. Give me more time to think about it.” “Just slide on the pull-up, sweetie.” Her mother was losing her patience, the fuse was lit behind the tone of her voice. “The more you talk, the more you expose your immaturity. I don’t understand how you can’t figure this out. It’s so simple, Lay-Lay.” After all of that posturing and arguing, Layla was back to where she started: at square one. The pull-up in question was the perfect kind of dress protection for a toddler girl or a potty trained Little. Of course, it was pink; a jeweled tiara featured prominently on the backside against the backdrop of the multi-tiered fairy tale castle. The letter ‘A’ sat in a baby block above the crown, indicating that this pull-up was the size for Amazons. His DP had ‘B’ for Betweeners smacked on his butt, and Littles just had different sizes. Their chart just assumed that they belonged in diapers anyways; but that was not his monkey, not his circus, and not his problem. His problem derived from the excitement that coursed through him. Especially, as watched Dr. Mira strike the match that would set that tightrope ablaze. “You will either join on willingly or fighting every step of the way,” Dr. Mira pulled the rug out with a harsh tone. “How you get into that Detector-protector doesn’t matter to me. However, it will be documented in my notes for posterity. I may even leave your full name in the journal when I go to publish. Every premier scientist will know how you react to this kind of toddler stimuli. If you keep up this bad attitude, they might even conclude that you deserve it.” Layla took a second look at the pull-up, after that pep-talk from Dr. Mira, she was seeing things much differently than before. His stepsister surrendered in a soft peep. “Can I at least change in my room?” “Certainly,” offered Mira, “then you can get to work unloading my car.” Kaleb should have felt bad about his little giggle as Layla headed towards her room wearing the shame of defeat and soon to wear the shame of toddler underwear. But he didn’t. Every brother and sister has their ups and downs, and Kaleb spent most of his time on the down side of the sibling ‘see-saw’. He always had to look up to Layla as if she was the sun, just shooting her glorious rays everywhere, and there was nothing he could do but shield his eyes. If this was her turn for babyish humiliation, he might as well enjoy it. His stepmom returned her attention to Charlotte, who was patiently awaiting sweet release from her messy butt. The poor girl had her legs already spread wide, just waiting to send her ankles into the air at first ask. “Alright, Charlotte.” Debbie laid out the fresh and folded diaper, which was white with pastel butterflies around the waist. “It’s time for your diaper change.” All of the excitement had made him forget about Charlotte, and the smell of her diaper returned about the same as his attention. The changing station was already set, the powder and baby oil was already on standby, same with the wipes. Lots and lots of wipes were needed for a diaper like this: a Big, full diaper. That baby was bulging something awful, and he was transfixed on what was going to happen next. “Whew! Girl!” Debbie yelped as she got a close up of Charlotte’s dirty diaper. “You’ve always been such a delicate little thing, I didn’t know you had it in you.” Dr. Mira worked the periphery of the changing station, leaning over Charlotte as his stepmom prepared her changing supplies. “I like how you’re telling her about ‘her’ diaper, Debbie. It’s important to drive home the shame of immaturity. Hammer it deep into her psyche, that’s the only way of getting through the other side of Immaturosis, instilling Charlotte with the responsibility for her messy diaper.” His stepmom soaked in the compliment like a sponge. The adjacent Maturosis-energy gave her a new lease on life, he could see the liveliness return to his stepmother, as every part of Debbie became more vibrant as she relived her glory days as a young mother. “Who’s a stinky girl?” Debbie sang to Charlotte. “Who needs a fresh diaper?” “Take out her soother so she can tell you,” commanded Mira. “Self-reflection is a great strategy for personal growth. Think of it as one rung to the ladder out from the depths of Immaturosis.” His step mom used her thumb to press the bulb-button of the Quiet Time pacifier, deflating the patented adjustable sized nipple, and making it easier to pluck it out of Charlotte’s mouth, much to her relief. “Who’s my stinky girl?” Debbie repeated slower for the teen, expecting an answer this time around. Charlotte seemed quiet for a moment, the Amazon teen seemed to consider her options like a multiple choice test. A) Give in, and tell them what they want to hear, B. Hold out, and maintain your dignity, and stay stinky, or C) Freeze solid and hope for help to arrive. He watched her face tense up, like she was searching for the quickest way out of poopy pants — so she chose option ‘A’. “I am.” Charlotte peered up at his stepmom with tired, defeated eyes. “I’m your stinky girl.” “Yes, you are, are, are.” Debbie poked at the defenseless girl. “Some little girl didn’t make it to the potty in time. Or did someone lose their potty privileges?” “I’m sorry, I lost my privileges,” bemoaned Charlotte. Debbie led her further along. “What kind of privileges?” Charlotte whimpered, “I lost my potty privileges!” At her admission, his stepmom did a victorious little shimmy before she reached down to rip away the tapes of the soiled diaper. Debbie hesitated for a bit, squeezing as much of this spongy moment for as long as she could. Charlotte laid there patiently, quietly, expectantly. Her legs were spread and her diaper exposed, probably wondering why Debbie kept stopping so painstakingly close to freeing her from this taped-on messy nightmare. “Now, think about losing your potty privileges,” his stepmom drew out the insinuation, “whose fault was that?” Her victim didn’t have a chance to think, it was rubber stamped on her butt — just like her caked mess. “Mine!” Charlotte’s whole body tightly tensed as she confessed to her crime. “I pooped my diaper. And I’m a terrible mommy… I deserve it… and I did it… because… because… I’m not a big girl! I’m just a stinky baby!” Debbie grabbed the girl’s hands and wiggled them in front of her face and cajoled with a silly voice. His stepmom asked, “But I thought you wanted to be a big girl?” Charlotte let her body go limp and malleable, unable to figure out what to do next, she allowed Debbie to play with her like she was a doll. Kaleb marveled at how differently his stepmother was in this exchange. He’d watched Layla walk all over her since, like, forever. Now, his dear old stepmother was in charge of this teen, infantilizing the younger Amazon like it was an old habit. “I do! I do! I swear that I do!” Charlotte managed to gasp. “I am a big girl. I want to be a big girl. Please, let me be a big girl.” “Oh, I’m not so sure,” replied Debbie. “Do Big girls poop their diapers?” “No….” Charlotte’s face fell. “They don’t.” “That’s right, little one.” Debbie tapped a condescending finger to the teen’s nose. “Big girls don’t poop diapers, they change them. Do you know why they change diapers?” Kaleb could actually feel the ratcheting pressure in the room, as gravity constricted and the temperature seemed to rise in return. Charlotte knew if she didn’t have the right words she’d get a repeat of the same treatment. And she 100%, totally did not want to suffer like she’d suffered that day. “Umm…” Charlotte searched herself for the right answer but came up blank. “It’s because that’s what ‘mommies’ like to do?” “Unfortunately, that is incorrect…” Debbie sharply ‘tsked’ as she shook her head, that answer wasn’t good enough. No answer would. “We change stinky diapers not because we want to. We do it because it’s the right thing to do. We care for Littles in the same way. It is irresponsible to let them suffer and fail, especially when we know exactly what they need. Oh, they’ll talk about how independent they are, and explain with many words how they never have accidents, but then they always end up in piddle-puddle panties and wonder how they got there.” On that note, Debbie clasped the tapes of the diapers before loudly ripping them free. His stepmom unfolded the diaper, using the front to scrape away yuck from Charlotte’s backside. She was already onto the second wipe before Kaleb could pull his eyes away from the scene. Watching the mess get cleaned and spent wipes fly at eye level wasn’t what he had in mind when he first crawled down here. The air in the room immediately turned sour. Kaleb didn’t know what kind of ‘scent-lock’ technology that Amazon sized diapers had, but it was certainly doing a lot of heavy lifting. He scurried on his knees and elbows to get away from the gross stuff, sliding to the edge of the couch, opposite the rest of the Amazons and towards a more private corner of the room. The move exposed his hiding spot as he crawled away from the diaper change, but avoiding the smell was a risk very much worth taking. Something about all of this bothered him — besides just the smell. Something to do with expectations. He didn’t expect Charlotte to break as quickly as she did. He didn’t expect Layla to watch it all unfold like a helpless bystander. He didn’t expect his stepmom to turn into some kind of super Amazon. He didn’t expect some kind of famous scientist to set up shop in his living room. He also didn’t expect the pair of strong hands that snaked their way around his ankles, and by the time he realized they were there, it was too late. It was Beckie. And she was 100%, totally defying her restraining order. The short haired Amazon with the heaving bosom dragged him out from behind the couch and into their corner hidden by an end table and trio of plastic plants in plastic pots. For the entirety of his short two-second trip, he clutched at the carpet, digging a winding trail with his nails; but it did no good, he was in her grasp and at her mercy. Beckie too easily spun him onto his back, encircled and crossed his ankles with both her hands, and lifted his knees to his chest like he was the one getting his diaper changed. “Hey! Stop it!” Kaleb harshly whispered. “Let me go!” “Why?” Beckie playfully jiggled his legs, rotating them at the knees like he rode a tricycle. “Are you hiding something?” “No!” “Are you sure?” Beckie poked her index finger to his T-shirt covered chest. “I smell something stinky.” The two stared at each other for a moment, Kaleb took notice of the huge breasts barely contained by the almost wet T-shirt and the wild look in her green eyes. There was something ‘dark’ behind her lingering gaze, innately primal and to be feared, something motherly. He pushed at her to get away, but knew better than to kick a Big in the face. So he halfway struggled and got halfway results, which meant he got nowhere. His captor scrunched her nose. “Let me do a little checky.” Beckie first sniffed at the space between his spread thighs. When that didn’t satisfy her curiosity, Beckie lowered herself to his raised diapered bottom and went nose to nose with one of the smiling teddy bears. She then pressed her face into the crinkling padding of his diaper and took in a big sniff. Then another. When she had decided that her insinuating violation was enough, Beckie returned his legs to the floor. “I thought I smelled something stinky,” she explained as if that mattered. “But you’re still my clean little boy. Your bottom smells like talcum powder, and oh so, so nice.” “I’m not a Little…” growled Kaleb, no one appreciates when someone talks about how their butt smells. “And I’m not yours…” Beckie softly smiled. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.” “Don’t give me that crap,” Kaleb grumbled, all too aware that there were other Bigs in the room. “Is there another way for me to be ‘yours’? You’re taking it a step too far every time, when are you going to get the picture and leave me be?” Beckie paused to pretend that she actually considered his feelings, but the Bigs never did when they were trying to baby him. “I don’t know, Kay.” Beckie shifted her fingers to a spot just beneath his ribs, relentlessly stabbing at his soft exposed belly. “You’re just too cute that I can’t help myself.” “Well, you can at least ‘try’ to help yourself,” Kaleb muttered as he dodged her wiggling tentacles at his sides. “Aren’t you supposed to stay away from me? Isn’t that what the doctor wanted? If you’re bad, or whatever, you’ll be treated like Charlotte.” Beckie shrugged. “Dr. Mira isn’t looking right now, and neither is your step mommy.” His eyes followed hers as they darted around the room. Things seemed to have quieted down from before, now that his stepsister was done arguing with Dr. Mira. Now, it was just the two of them in this little corner. How had they managed to land somewhere so private in the middle of everything? “So it looks like it’s just you and me,” Beckie said with a voice that sent his spine a-tingling. “Are you in the mood to do some more ‘research’? Your sourpuss of a big sis won’t be here to interrupt us this time, and I got a new game for us to play.” Kaleb tried to sit up, but was promptly put back onto the floor. “What about Dr. Mira.?” “What about her?” asked Beckie, she had a deviant glee about her that made her face glow. “Do you think she would want to take notes while we play? If I’m also naughty, maybe she’ll have to put us both in diapers. I can really teach you how to play if we’re both padded.” This wasn’t working. He needed a new plan. A new strat. Lots of ‘aggro’ over here. In a panic, Kaleb scanned the room around him, trying to find help or a way out. This was going to lead to ‘bad touching’, and he wasn’t in the mood. Maybe he should tell her that, maybe she’d stop. No. She wouldn’t. If she had her way, Beckie would give him another ride, this time to completion. Everything seemed so much bigger from the floor. The ceiling stretched like the sky, the couches were more like mountains, and the Bigs were already gigantic enough, now they seemed like skyscrapers. The floor offered a different perspective to Kaleb; a Little’s perspective, a baby’s perspective, and he couldn’t wait to get on his feet. Beckie put on a maudlin grin. “Okay, Kay.” “What’s happening?” Kaleb asked as her hands crept up his body to his waist. “What are you doing?” “I’m only doing what you asked…” Beckie said with a tummy-tickling purr. “I’m helping myself.. to a little more Kay.” Yikes. This kind of intimate insinuation was dangerous. Very dangerous. Kaleb wildly swung his arms and legs at te Amazon, but once again, Beckie proved to be much stronger than him. She wrapped her arms beneath his prone form, flipping him around and into her lap in no time at all, managing to subdue him in less than a snap, in relative silence like a motherly assassin. Beckie cradled him in her lap, turning him upwards towards her breasts, which was as ominous as a full moon on a rainy night. Kaleb pushed at her with his hands, slapping at her much bigger arms with the force of an aggressive game of patty cake. When she controlled his arms, he switched to kicking at her, but his feet only ended up pedaling in the air. The futility of it all was so frustrating. He grunted and arched his back — right into her chest, then he stopped as soon as he made contact. Kaleb would hardly be the one to call himself a ‘boob expert’. In fact, his only mammary experience came from various internet pictures, R rated movies, and his brief pillowing session with Beckie earlier that morning. When his head hit ‘the girls’, he immediately noticed a difference in how her boobs felt from before. They were ‘fullish’, or ‘fuller’, or something just as sinister. Full of what? He knew, but words didn’t seem to do the horror any justice. “Stay still.” Beckie forced his body into compliance. He did so. Kaleb was frozen solid as Beckie clasped the back of his head, just above the neck and brought him face first with her waiting breasts. He could feel their ‘heaviness’ as she pressed his face right into her cleavage, as she rubbed his cheeks and mouth against the outside of her workout shirt. He cringed as he felt her nipples push through the fabric, they were hard and pokey, waiting for his mouth to latch. Beckie cradled his head and ran her hand through his hair. “Don’t you just love this?” No. He didn’t. He couldn’t say so because he was too busy being smothered. Kaleb batted at his captor with hands as she held him firmly to her chest. Did she get stronger or something? Because her hold on him was a lot tighter than he expected. His entire world slowed as she tried to kill him softly with her breasts, as she tried to give him the old fashioned ‘mother-smother’. All of his senses seemed to have been shuffled around. From far away, Kaleb heard the sounds of Charlotte’s diaper change. The noisy freeing of wipes that slithered from their crinkling plastic packaging, the popping sound from unfolding a huge disposable, all against the backdrop of soft sounds of Debbie’s wooing and cooing. Their voices rose then fell, the words lost in some kind of time echo. All of his surroundings seemed so far away at this profound and chaotic moment. Besides trying to breathe, or get away, or wish himself out of oblivion, Beckie was his everything right now. Her body felt soft and firm, her candy smell was enticing, her body’s scent seemed to have changed, emanating peace like a lit candle. He could hear her heartbeat just beyond her bosom. It sped like his sped, pumping blood faster in unison, like they were both in some kind of mother/baby tandem, unable to break free from this kind of natural rhythm. Beckie lowered herself into his face, using a finger to trace his lips, as he swallowed hard. “I know exactly what you need…” Beckie said softly, in almost a whisper. “I can see it so clearly now. This explains your behavior, just like in the textbook. You’ve been craving some classic maternal bonding this entire time. Luckily, I have just the thing.” With one hand wrapped around him with the force of a constricting boa, she used the other to start rolling up the front of her shirt. The scene was exactly the kind of thing in his nightmares. His willpower could barely hold water, filled with so many holes since it was shot to Swiss cheese. His strength reduced to nub, nothing there except a remembrance of better times. Kaleb couldn’t move, he couldn’t resist, and at the root of it all, there sat some kind of morbid curiosity wondering what would happen if he didn’t put up any more fuss.

Hot off the presses. Literally. Normally, I wait a few days to edit, but I’ve rewritten this whole chapter one too many times. I don’t have time to go through comments right now, I’ll do that at a later date. Thanks for reading. ————— Recessive 13 The scene was set in the living room. The “adult” parties made small talk on the two couches, the two in diapers cowered below on the rainbow-foam-alphabet play mat, and everyone seemed to ignore the elephant in the room: the Big in the big, smelly diaper. Kaleb didn’t exactly try to remind them of their pigtailed elephant. The less attention the Amazons paid to their victims, the better it would work out for him. Maybe he could hide in plain sight; not seen, not heard, and not bothered. Perhaps he could slide into the other side of the Cushioning Test without being noticed. Or was that just Maturosis logic? Who knows? Either way, Kaleb sat flat on his padded bottom, with his newly hairless legs spread in an off-centered ‘U’. The thick teddy bear diaper made him sit weird. The bulky underpants forced his hips to tilt to one side, and moving around was noisy and attention seeking. He tried a couple of times to make himself more comfortable, but nothing he did took away the fact that he was wearing something meant for pooping-pants Littles. “So as I was saying.” Debbie put aside her glass of water before continuing. “It’s so nice to see so much ‘baby’ in the house again.” “Studies show that a Little breathes new life into the household,” agreed Dr. Mira. “There’s something about caring for others that gives older women a renewed sense of purpose.” Since there was nothing else to do but avoid sniffing in Charlotte’s direction, Kaleb began to further study his diaper. Kaleb pressed a finger into the plastic nose of one of the printed bears on his level 2 DP, watching the smug teddy’s face pop out after each push. He ran his fingers across the ruffled edge of the disposable along his waist. He checked the security of the Little-proof tapes; they were tight to the touch, soft and smooth to his fingers. He wasn’t getting out of these diapers without ‘their’ help; eighteen years of experience told him that much. That’s when Kaleb spotted the tiny yellow plastic dump truck among Callie’s toys. The Little had quite the stash for being a baby for less than a week. Between the silly rattles, pretty dollies, and cute cuddle-worthy stuffies, the plastic dump truck sat forgotten on its side. Kaleb knew it didn’t belong with the rest of the stupid girly stuff. In a way, the truck’s ‘desk’ was ‘crooked’, too. Since Callie wasn’t there to object, Kaleb reached out and grabbed the truck with his whole hand. He wasn’t going to play with it or anything, he just wanted to watch the wheels go round and round, which was totally different than playing with toys. For the next few minutes, he fiddled with the yellow truck that he found on the ground, flicking his finger against the plastic wheels to make them spin. Why? Reasons. He enjoyed watching the tiny tires shoot around in circles. It kept his mind off the surrounding Bigs, which was a good thing at the moment. Wheel-flicking also kept his mind off his own troubled mind — which was even better. Meanwhile, at a safe distance and thankfully downwind, Charlotte rested on her hands and knees. The baby-like position was all about avoiding pressing her messy backside against the floor at all costs. He could tell that she waited in agony for her promised diaper change; but Kaleb knew the Amazons better than she did, that diaper change was only going to happen when the Bigs thought that she had enough of the Little treatment. “We had just gotten to the Empathy Center,” Debbie began to explain her side of the morning abroad. “Charlotte was being such a baby about going into the building. You know how teenagers are, they think they’re so smart, but we ‘adults’ know better. After seeing what I saw with Callie, this new ‘mommy’ needed a quick and dirty lesson on the pain of diaper rash, and I figured the best way to learn is through experience.” “Absolutely correct,” Dr. Mira chimed in as she crossed her legs on the couch. “That’s the exact purpose of the Empathy Center. You can’t build ‘empathy’ without first offering a proper perspective.” To add insult to injury, the good doctor wiggled a thin finger at the Amazon in the dirty diaper. Charlotte let out a muffled wail behind her pacifier like the mating call of a drunk sea lion. Dr. Mira taunted the Big baby, “Do you want us to change your diaper?” The stinky Amazon whipped her head up and down so hard that her pigtails bobbed back and forth. Her cheeks puffed from behind her pacifier, Kaleb could barely make out the muffled word ‘please’. “Do you feel helpless, Charlotte?” Dr. Mira asked rhetorically. “That’s what a baby is: helplessness in a diaper. How do you think Little Callie felt when you didn’t check her often enough, when you didn’t change her quickly enough? It’s almost ‘enough’ to make a Little want to run away.” As their friend learned her lesson, Beckie and Layla communicated in glum silence; with soft whispers, hard looks, and open wincing. In their defense, they were just as helpless as their padded friend, and the control they had enjoyed over Kaleb slipped from their fingers in every passing moment. All of the Empathy Center talk had raised their collective anxiety levels. Beckie got a second case of the sweats, and Layla wilted in the fashion of a parched flower. “You know me, always one to strike up the small talk,” Debbie continued her story. “I started chatting it up with the receptionist, and I happened to mention something about Kaleb’s little Cushioning test. Well, she said that some famous Doctor Mira was doing her own research-study-thingy at the same Empathy Center. What are the odds?” “Wow, mom.” Layla tried to fit in with the older women, copying their mannerisms and tone of voice. “Did you know Dr. Mira was a celebrity when you met her?” “Actually, I didn’t,” Debbie admitted, quickly followed by an uncomfortable giggle. “Your dear old mom is always out of the loop on what’s going on.” “It’s quite alright, Debbie,” Mira reassured his stepmother. “I’m mostly known in scientific circles, not motherly ones. I’d rather have my research be more popular than my personage. Sometimes, I like to stay up late at night and think about how much I positively impact other people’s lives, but it’s important not to make it all about me.” “I can see why Layla likes you so much,” commented Debbie. “You’re like a super hero!” Mira replied, “You’re far too kind, Debbie.” “What did you do to Charlotte?” Beckie asked out of nowhere, she shook so much her voice rattled. “Why is she like dressed like that? Why did she… soil herself?” The older Amazons first took a moment understand her question. It was probably too simple to them, like asking someone how do they breathe, so the process of answering took more thought than it should have. Debbie struggled to explain — so Mira spoke first. “A Little in Charlotte’s care went missing,” said Dr. Mira. “Which is a serious affair requiring serious consequences.” All eyes followed Mira’s over to the diapered Amazon. Charlotte lay faced down, belly flat to the floor, and off-white colored stink-butt sticking out beneath her yellow skirt. “Littles naturally desire care and protection, so running away from their mommy is a straight forward indication of neglect or abuse. Knowing your friend, I’d say it’s the former rather than the latter, so Charlotte is getting a lesson about dirty diapers that she will never forget.” Beckie cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s fair...” “Well, what would you do instead?” Dr. Mira raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s perfectly fair to make a bad mommy sit in a diaper rash. I think it’s perfectly fine to warm their behind with a couple of dozen hard swats. It’s nothing compared to the thought of a Little suffering in an environment not conducive to her psychological state.” Beckie raised her voice. “You gave her a spanking?” “Why yes, of course!” Dr. Mira returned her ire right back. “That’s not all we did. Your friend needed a messy diaper for her punishment. So I ordered a manual stimulation — and that seemed to do the trick, it always does.” “What’s a manual stimulation?” Layla asked with a confused expression. Dr. Mira pulled her hands out in front of her body, preparing to give them all a visual representation of their friend’s punishment. She formed a circle with her left hand, and then extended three fingers on her right. Then she ‘stimulated’ the circle by thrusting her fingers in and out — and everyone got the same mental image. Needless to say, all inquiring eyes got a bit wider from her demonstration. Dr. Mira was quite the performance artist. “I learned the tactic from old wive’s tales,” continued Mira as if she didn’t just mentally violate the room. “I don’t use my fingers like they did, we use a clinical device and a chemical cocktail instead, but the reaction is just the same. It’s like poking a hole in an umbrella, or unclogging a drain, because it certainly busts the dam.” Everyone sat in silence trying bleach the thought out of mind. Charlotte groaned from behind her pacifier. Kaleb couldn’t blame her for being so distraught, his bottom was still tightly puckered from just hearing about what had happened. “Dr. Mira?” Layla picked her words slowly, as if she treaded on uneasy ground. “What kind of research were you doing at the Empathy Center?” “The new kind, actually.” Dr. Mira evaluated the teen through her small oval glasses like they were a pair of soul reading microscopes. “The controversial kind that costs me funding. The kind that’s unpopular but entirely necessary. It’s a shame it has to be this way. Research into various Maturosis concepts is always under constant attack. I blame over-coddling Amazon mothers as much as those bleeding heart Little advocacy groups. They just don’t want to follow the facts to their obvious conclusions.” “I hate when people deny facts,” said Layla, then she shoved an elbow into Beckie’s ribs, knocking her sweaty friend out of a trance. Beckie quickly muttered, “I hate that, too.” “I really do appreciate all of the youthful enthusiasm,” Dr. Mira chuckled. “I can tell you two are so different than the rest of your lazy generation.” Layla didn’t know what to say, avoiding the obvious insult only to catch the backhanded compliment. “Uhh…” His stepsister rubbed her hand against her face. “Thanks, I guess.” “Isn’t Dr. Mira great?” Debbie beamed from beside her guest. “She really knows how to work with kiddos. Tell them the story about how I let the chicks run the roost instead of the hens… I can’t do it justice.” Dr. Mira didn’t tell any story about ‘chickens’, it didn’t need to be told a second time. The oppressive feeling in the room told it for her, and it didn’t leave out any details. The middle-aged scientist just leaned back into the cushions and cradled her bosom with a pair of folded hands. With a quick flick of her well manicured fingers, she adjusted her pristine white lab coat, making sure that the monogram ‘MIRA MD MOM’ on the lapel lay flat so it was more easily read. The conversation was about to get serious, and the room held their collective breath. Mira refocused her attention onto Layla, approaching the real reason why she was here, and the ceiling fan still wasn’t turned on. “Your mother informed me that you’re doing your own research project as some kind of homework. That Kaleb seems to be suffering from a recessive gene, and he is in the process of a Cushioning Test. I’d say that he’s pretty Escalated by the looks of it.” “Actually, I’m not doing any test,” snarked Kaleb, the toy truck cradled in both hands. “I just wear diapers for fun.” No one laughed. They all just stared at him. It was a joke. Or an attempt at a joke. It wasn’t exactly funny in hindsight, and he regretted saying it as soon as he did. Why was he such an idiot? It bothered him, as it should. His wetting accident was one thing, but pressure on the bladder was hardly the same as pressure on the brain. That's what all of this Maturosis nonsense was all about: pressure on the brain. And all of the constant pressure made him screw up even the simplest of things. He could feel Debbie’s shadow creep up his back as she stood up from the couch. Kaleb expected another one of her fruitless pants checks, but she spoke into his ear instead. “Kay-Kay, sweetie, don’t interrupt the grown-ups when they are talking. You keep playing with your toys.” “I’m not playing with toys,” growled Kaleb. He angrily rolled the toy truck across the carpet, the guttural sounds from his mouth almost sounded like an engine. All four wheels spun around, which was so very relaxing. “Do you need to go poo poo?” Debbie asked from over his shoulder. “Is that it? Do you feel a tingle in your bottom? We can put down that little toy truck and still make it to the potty in time. We don't want another accident, do we?" “No!” Kaleb shouted and slammed the truck into the foam play mat, making its entire frame rattle. “I don’t need to go!” Debbie said nothing, only giving a knowing look to Mira which conveyed ‘I tried’, and his stepmom returned to the spot she just left. Dr. Mira returned to Layla. “When 'was' his last BM?” “He hasn’t had one since Escalation,” replied his stepsister. “Now that isn’t good at all,” Dr. Mira said sharply. “If he’s been Escalated for this long, and he hasn’t gone poo-poo in the potty, then we may need to move that process forward. Manually, or otherwise. Stubborn Littles will keep it in until they get sick, and we don’t want that to happen to Kaleb under our watch.” “I’m not sick,” Kaleb sneered at the Amazons who seemed so Big above him. “And I’m not a Little.” “No one said that you were a Little.” Dr. Mira smiled at Kaleb, a cruel thing that was all lips and no teeth. “Maybe later, you can explain why you’re so concerned with the comparison.” Kaleb questioned, “Why not now?” “We don’t have time to do it now,” replied Dr. Mira, “because I’m about to get started.” "Oh, boy!" Debbie clapped her hands together. "I can't wait, this is going to be so much fun." "I love your enthusiasm, Debbie." Dr. Mira pulled a small device from her labcoat pocket, it was small and square like a digital note pad. With a swift flick of her thumb, the screen came to life. "That’s the spirit of science running through your veins. Mothers aren't just natural caretakers, we’re expert explorers as well. Women like us represent the cutting edge, others will follow, but we were the trailblazers that forged the path to discovery. Do you have your note-taker and are you ready to begin as my lab assistant?" Debbie yanked a similar black hand held from behind her back and waved it happily to Dr. Mira. "I'm all set!" "Wait a sec!" Layla climbed up from the couch. "You mean to tell me that my mom is your lab assistant?" "Why, yes!” exclaimed Dr. Mira. "Is that going to be a problem?" Even idiots like Kaleb could tell that this was already a 'problem' for Layla. Kaleb stopped his wheel-flicking to watch his stepsister stress out for once. The room got really awkward as Layla searched for the right things to say. Her self-esteem couldn’t take being brushed aside for the sake of her 'kinda stupid', 'always clueless' mother. Layla put a lot of stock in her intelligence, her ability to maintain control, and her innate sense of leadership. Debbie held none of those qualities, only the small computer notepad and the role that Layla so desperately sought. He could read his dear old stepsis like she could read him, he knew that her world felt upside down. Little Miss Perfect wasn’t used to the experience; unlike Kaleb, who always wore disappointment like his black T-shirts. "No! I mean, yes!" Layla pointed to herself with both hands to her chest. "I'm the one with the scientific experience. I've read all of your books and I've poured over your studies.. I'm… I'm an all A student on the honor roll, the top 1% of my class. If it’s because I'm young, I’m almost out of high school, and I’m also close to nineteen.” “That’s nice, dear.” Dr. Mira picked at a non-existent speck of dust on her bosomy chest, then rubbed it between her thin fingers, before flicking it away into the air. “Unfortunately, 'almost' doesn’t count in the world of science. There is no data point called ‘almost’. Almost is what Littles do when they ‘almost’ make it to the potty.” Amazons were pretty good at throwing around insults like punches, and Dr. Mira hit like a heavy weight, fast and relentless. Kaleb felt that second hand insinuation, it came with the speed of a gale force wind, and Layla seemed taken aback as she stammered a defense. Layla muttered, “I… I…” “You should know better than to beat yourself up over the 'uncontrollables',” Mira explained to his stepsister. “You’re still young, still immature, and you still need a guiding hand.” Layla went to argue. “I know, but…” “Stop with the silly questions, they don’t become you. The most important aspect of an experiment is its real world application, but you don’t have any experience in the real world. I know you're excited about science, so let's take that youthful energy and pour it into our research. I see a lot of potential in you, Layla. That’s why I need you to become my 'Little Helper’.” “Helper? Little helper?” Layla sounded confused, she sensed the immediate danger, everyone did. “What’s a helper? I mean, I’d like to help, but.. what about Beckie? Can she be your Little Helper?" Doctor Mira quickly dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "Sorry, but I don't think your friend is very capable of anything right now. I think she's already in a stage two. Write that down, Debbie. Did she do anything strange with Kaleb? Anything remotely sexual?" Beckie's eyes went wide. "Uh... no." "Are you sure, honey?" Dr. Mira evaluated the teen through her oval glasses, and Beckie seemed to ‘welch’ where she sat, unable to protect herself from all of the insinuation. "Not even a little bit of 'ride-the-stuffie'? Or maybe an overzealous game of horsey? Did you feel a tiny 'tingle' during his bath time or when you diapered him? If you did, it's okay. There are a lot of confusing thoughts going through your still-developing mind right now. It's perfect fine to be 'diaper curious' — it's not as uncommon as you think. My new research delves deep into that topic, and the results aren't that surprising. Well, at least not to me." The good doctor's words worked like an alarm clock to Beckie, pulling her out of her waking sleep. The scared teen ran a hand through her short hair, making the front bangs stick up in the air. Her sunken face and wild expression exposed her terror. Her eyes shot from the doctor to Charlotte, then looked to Layla as if she was the last life boat. "I swear I didn't do anything, or... or feel anything! I am not 'diaper-curious', that's ridiculous! It isn't even real!" Dr. Mira grabbed the stack of research papers that sat on the edge of the couch and held it up for the group to see. "I'll just have to see what his wave readers say -- then I can check the saturation of your underwear. Then we can talk about what’s real and what’s not real.” Beckie froze — and that life raft was already long gone, because Layla refused to make eye contact with her friend. The knives were out and everyone was in for themselves. "Don't worry, Beckie." Dr. Mira peered over the paper notes, speed reading and flipping through stapled pages. "I've already spoken to your mother, she's excited to see my potential findings. That's why she signed you up for my care." The room had to adjust to the 'power-shift' they all just witnessed. This doctor was so ‘alpha’ that she had already taken over the house. Sure, toppling 'clueless' Debbie didn’t require much work; but Layla and Beckie were pretty respectable, now they were reduced to bumbling idiots. And this wasn’t counting the already fallen ‘domino’. Charlotte softly whimpered in the fetal position, her party dress hiked up to her waist and her dirty diaper exposed for all to see. Doctor Mira was a walking, talking giant sponge full of potential energy, a catalyst for radical change, and a Big threat now coming his way. Kaleb felt the lightning shoot through him when they locked eyes; but it wasn’t exactly lightning, it was fear that banged through his entire body, bouncing from limb to limb, turning his heart into a drum machine. He put aside his toy truck and took a hard swallow. He had to quickly gather his wits about him; this Dr. Mira was like Layla on steroids. She had all of Layla's patented 'know-it-all' hubris and the experience to match. Mira was queenly, boss-like, and motherly all rolled together into a real life statuesque vision of Amazonian motherhood. "I'll also be finishing Kaleb's cushioning test." Dr. Mira had a stern softness to the way she spoke to him, very different than the 'ice queen' manner she had with his stepsister. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll make sure that it's done right, you're in the hands of a grown-up now." "I didn't agree to this, mom!" shouted Layla, as her reality was going all wrong. "Kay-Kay's Cushioning test was 'MY' homework!" "I know you didn't, but I did.” Debbie corrected her daughter. “Since I am the hen, I run this roost.” Uh-oh, it looked as though stepmom found a backbone. “Dr. Mira told me that you'd get to be a part of the most important experiment in a decade, and I know you don't want to miss that kind of opportunity. Plus, she made some good points about how I raised you, and I thought maybe I could use an expert's touch when it comes to my special child." Dr. Mira smiled like a vulture, all crooked beak and promising no good intentions. "Debbie, you are going to be the most wonderful lab assistant." “Thanks again for the opportunity,” replied his stepmother. “I’m going to do my very best.” “I know you will,” Dr. Mira said with an accompanying wink. "Debbie, I need you to go to the kitchen and fetch a Level 1 A, a Level 2 A and a Level 3 A. Let’s start by changing Charlotte's stinky diaper. She’s probably learned her lesson, don’t you think?” With another wail, Charlotte vigorously nodded in agreement. Dr. Mira seemed to appreciate the palpable desperation from the Amazon teen. “Let’s change her on the layout mat in the living room, we don’t have any changing tables here, and that'd make it easier for future changes. I'm going to go over Kaleb's notes, see where the girls left off, then I'll start him on his next task. As for Layla, I want her in the level 1 trainer, ASAP. She's not as far gone as the others, but we may need to use her as a control. I already have some ideas in mind for our short-haired hormonal case. Beckie will require immediate treatment, but not as immediate as the poopy princess, so change Charlotte first." Debbie smiled and saluted. "Can and will do, doctor." His stepmom marched to the kitchen and began rummaging through the plastic bags she had just brought home. The good news was those goodie bags from the Little store weren't all for him. In fact, that was very good news. He could feel the exciting magic sponge energy flow through him as he heard the ripping of plastic packaging and shopping bags. His heart leapt as he wanted to see what would happen next to his stepsister. Was it wrong for him to want to laugh? Wrong to love the cruelty of the moment? Was he secretly a sadist? No. He was only a little brother, with all of the trappings of the sibling rivalry that came with his role. Kay-Kay was about to find out what happens to 'Lay-Lay' when she's on the wrong end of this kind of thing. "Dr. Mira?” Layla took a deep breath and asked the question everyone was dying to know the answer to. “What exactly are you researching here?" "Why, I'm so glad you asked, Layla." Doctor Mira turned like a tank turret towards his stepsister — slowly, methodically, and taking dead aim. It was hard not admire the way this woman mastered the art of spongy suspense, letting the seconds trickle away every time before she spoke. Dr. Mira devilishly grinned as she tapped her small computer’s stylus against her lips. When she figured out what she wanted say, she put aside her device and folded her hands together, then she leaned over her knees to get closer to his stepsister. "For years, I've been confused on the status of the younger generations. As I grow older, they seem to grow younger. Of course, I'm not talking about in age, that’s just a number. I'm talking about immaturity. I'm talking about a problem 'adulting'. I'm talking about the ever-expanding canyon between young adult and able-bodied parent.” “There are societal impacts here,” continued Mira. “A butterfly effect that impacts the very core motherhood.” “I don’t think I’m following,” muttered Layla. “You guys are getting married at an older age, you're delaying the start families later and later, and you're not adopting Littles at a sustainable rate — which is yet another societal problem. There is a clear lack of motherly preparedness with those under thirty. The Empathy Centers are full of young ladies unable to perform their societal role. Are you following now? Or do I have to explain it like you’re four years old?” "I don't know..." Layla trailed off. "Then it’s a good thing that I 'do' know," Dr. Mira snapped like a latex glove. “You earlier mentioned that you've read my studies. Am I in the business of being wrong?" Layla closed her eyes, admitting defeat. “I guess you’re right.” “Of course I’m right,” snapped Dr. Mira, “I wrote the textbook on being right." And with that explanation, Mira’s notepad device had already returned to her hands, as if she made her point and was prepared to move forward. Kaleb remained transfixed on her mannerisms as she hastily worked. He wondered what she wrote on her screen with such delicate touch. He noticed that Dr. Mira had a strange feminine and flexible strength. Like a skinny twig, or a bullwhip. The scientist recrossed her legs, this time in a different position, as she scribbled her computer's pen against the small screen. Dr. Mira double and triple checked her work to make sure she was getting off on the right foot. When she was done, she punctuated whatever she wrote with a stab of her pencil and she was back to explaining everything. "Now, since you're rightfully curious about the test you're about to take, I'll further explain my research. I plan to get to the bottom of this generational disorder, one way or another. To put a stop to the laziness, the idleness, the elastic-stretching of the teenage years all the way to the mid-twenties. We will start from the beginning, retrace our collective steps, and in the process, teach you some empathy for Littles and Little care. I have several hypothesis to test, and terminologies to master, but we all have a long way to go.” “I'll start by putting a name to this condition -- I like to call it 'Immaturosis'."

Hey, not a new chapter. Sorry. I try not to comment on my stories too often because I don’t like bumping it to the front if there isn’t anything new to read. I’m working on chapter 13 right now. I didn’t get a chance to write at all last week, so I’m playing catch up this week. Honestly, the writing is a bit of a mess right now, so it might not be posted until next week. Thanks for everyone’s interest, and future apologies to those reading that think this a new chapter.

Good to see you. I’ve always liked the Munchausen-like qualities of Maturosis, it’s an extra dimension in the diaper dimension, and it’s perfect for manipulation and gas lighting. It’s also a fun catch-22 game played between Amazons and Littles, and I’m happy I get to borrow it for my Maturosis ‘fan fiction’. As far as him breaking, Kaleb is about to learn the hard lesson that a little self doubt can go a long way. Especially when the Cushioning test goes into high gear. Their missing friend comes back from the Empathy Center in this chapter, which begins the outside influences on this story, including yours. When does textbook-based Maturosis fly back at the Bigs like a boomerang? Starting now. Well, more details in the next chapter, this one is long enough already. Kaleb doesn’t quite think of himself as a baby. He’s just starting to reconsider what he previously considered Amazon lies and ‘textbook nonsense’. Don’t worry. This won’t be his last tussle with Beckie, maybe he’ll feel more willing next time around. If the Amazons have their way Kaleb will learn to enjoy his diapers. ————- This chapter is pretty wordy and covers a lot of ground. I didn’t get as far into the new ideas as I wanted, but I did get to bring in a new character that came from suggestions. I started ‘Recessive’ based on one sentence: “No, mom, I don’t have Maturosis.” I had a story with an ending in mind, but it was just going to be a simple Amazon vs Betweener story about a one-sided sibling rivalry. After I posted, good writers and good commenters came up with some good ideas. I considered them, but I wasn’t sure how to make Maturosis work with the Bigs. I know now. It doesn’t get to be revealed this chapter, but it’s coming. The trajectory of the story is going to change, and no one is safe; but don’t worry, Kaleb still has his journey to take, he still has to get to the other side of the Cushioning, but there may be some changes heading his way — and not just his diapers. Thanks for reading, and liking, and commenting. ——— 12 Lunch was already on the table when Layla escorted him from his room to the kitchen. A fruit salad sat at his usual spot, alongside a plastic plate of animal crackers and a tiny cup of milk. This kind of daycare fare was something he could expect for a long time, if this Maturosis thing got the better of him. Think positive thoughts, Kay. One step in front of the other; that’s how he learned to walk through the tough phases of life, but would this phase end with a dirty diaper? Kaleb halted at the edge of the table. His heart pounding. His throat caught. Layla tried to pull out his chair, but he stopped it with his bare foot. “Who made my lunch?” Kaleb stammered, all too wary of a hidden powder-pack of laxatives. “I want to know if there’s anything bad in it.” “Quit being silly,” Layla sounded annoyed. “Why would there be anything bad in your food?” “I dunno,” muttered Kaleb. “A Little named Callie comes to mind.” “Come on, Little bro. If you keep acting this paranoid, I’ll have to log it into your data. Let me help you sort it out. Callie is a Little, you are not. She has a more extreme case of Maturosis than you. That is, unless you think your Maturosis is on her level.” “I’m not saying that!” Kaleb said louder than he wanted. “I’m just asking a simple question, so who made my lunch?” “I did! It was me!” Beckie exclaimed from the living room. She was supposed to be compiling the data from the day before, but her eyes hadn’t left him since he came from the hallway. In his room, Layla had informed Kaleb that Beckie was on strict orders to give him space, and it appeared as if she struggled with Layla’s commands. The exile to the living room wasn’t the only thing she was struggling with. Beckie seemed to be sweating from everywhere. There were dark patches all over her gray workout shirt; under her arms, at her heaving bust, and a stain blossomed at her lower back. Her face was flushed into a deep crimson, especially around her cheeks and her maudlin smile. The short haired cheerleader cooled herself with a makeshift fan from a stack of research papers. “Do you like it, Kay? Please tell me that you do. I did my very best. Whew! Did summer get here early, should we turn up the air conditioner?” Kaleb returned his attention back to his stepsis, expecting an explanation for Beckie’s odd behavior. “Try to ignore her,” advised Layla, “it’s a mothering thing.” Kaleb grumbled, “You’re going to have to do better than that.” “Alright, for your curiosity’s sake, I will.” Layla pulled the chair out without further fuss from her stepbrother. “Beckie seems to be suffering from a hormonal imbalance. Hot flashes. Excitable personality. Hunger for empty carbs and sugars. Her body is starting to physically respond to being around a baby. We normally take pills to control this reaction until we adopt, but Beckie seemed to have ‘forgotten’ hers.” “Hormones? Body response?” Kaleb squinted as he thought about what she said, then spoke low enough only for his stepsister to hear. “She wouldn’t be lactating, would she?” “That’s none of your business,” answered Layla, with a hint of a grin. “All you need to do is sit down and eat some food. I’ll bet you’ve got an angry tummy.” Yeah. Beckie was 100%, totally lactating. Her teenage Amazon body sent into a tailspin preparing to nurse a Little. The only problem was there wasn’t any other Littles around, only Kaleb; so it would be wise for him to steer clear of Beckie. Suddenly, lunch didn’t sound so appetizing. “Sorry, but I’m not hungry,” Kaleb lied, he was withering away from the inside. “Uh-oh, I think I hear your Maturosis talking.” Layla snaked her hands around his waist just above his diaper, threatening to lift him from the ground. “Since you’re having a bad day, I’ll give it to you plainly: Either you get into your booster, or I’ll put you there myself.” It had been a total of five minutes since the eavesdropping incident, and the two of them were already at each other’s throats. This was common between them; the bickering, fighting, and Layla getting the upper hand. All of this interaction was par for the course. So why did he keep playing this game? Good question. Yes, his stepsister made some good points when she unknowingly explained every bit of his dark future. Yes, her ideology was fact based and textbook approved, plus she had the support of practically all of civilized society. Yes, she was bigger, smarter, and stronger than him. An honor student with perfect attendance, a class and family favorite, a ‘do-no-wrong’, ‘one-of-a-kind’ perfection of an older sibling. But, no. He didn’t fully buy into her sciency schtick, even if he had raging doubts about his own stance on Maturosis. Kaleb dug in his heels and crossed his arms, he wasn’t going to be led along so easily. He shook her hold on his hips with a quick shimmy. “I don’t think you heard me right, Big sis. I just told you that I’m not hungry. Besides, Maturosis doesn’t talk, because it doesn’t exist, and because it’s all made up garbage like the rest of your stupid textbook.” Layla lowered herself down to his level, all it took was a bend at the hips and both hands on her knees. Now they were face to face to have a heart to heart. “I thought we were passed this, Kay-Kay.” Her voice was soft, but harbored a hidden sharpness, like a dagger sheathed in silk. “You’re so deep into regression that you’re not in the right state of mind. You haven’t had anything to eat all day. This isn’t about torturing you, it’s about self-care. If you don’t take care of yourself, someone else will. If you don’t eat this lunch, I’ll be forced to make a bottle and lay you across Beckie’s lap.” Kaleb shuddered from the insinuation, and its corresponding mental image. “Who knows?” continued Layla. “She might not need the bottle to feed you.” Unconsciously, his eyes snuck over to Beckie on the couch. The Amazon wore a beaming smile as she tapped the top of her lap with both hands. Layla was serious about the bottle, and the other vaguely veiled threat. He knew better than to test her resolve, and he was super hungry. “Okay.. okay… I’ll eat the fruit.” Kaleb raised his hands into the air, making it easier for Layla to lift him into his familiar booster seat. His butt knew that seat more than anything, but he expected it to feel different since he was now diapered. What he didn’t expect was the new shale gray safety strap attached to seat that was totally not there before. The world rocked wildly as he tried to resist. He managed to croak, “Hey! Wait!” as she managed to control him. Kaleb struggled in her grip as she spun him around, placing him diaper first into the booster. He grabbed at her wrist as she reached for the nylon strap, applying the brakes the same way as he did with the dining chair. Layla groaned, “What is it now?” “What do you think?” Kaleb kicked at his stepsister. “I think you’re acting like a child,” replied Layla. Kaleb shook his head. “No, I’m not.” Layla didn’t have to say anything in return; he was totally acting like a child, and Kaleb totally knew it. Why was a simple and silly seat-strap a big deal to him? Two words: Changes and reasons. There was no reason for this change. And it was infuriating. Managing his temper was starting to feel like a full time job. Any kind of emotional outburst would look like Maturosis in the ever watchful eyes of an Amazon. He’d learned this fact from listening through the wall; and despite what his teachers had claimed, Kaleb wasn’t stupid. On the other hand, it was just a seat belt, meant to go over his lap, to be buckled with a plastic buckle. This was hardly the firing squad that his threat sensors made it out to be. He was over-reacting, so what? Sometimes, his brain had a mind of its own, waving red flags where there wasn’t danger. Still, changes and reasons. Reasons for changes. His mind kept traveling down that well-worn path, the one he’d trekked his whole life, the one that denied what the Bigs wanted him to be. The path made good arguments, sound ones. Kaleb had been sitting in the booster for a good part of his teens, and he’d never had he needed a belt to sit in it. Kaleb burned with more questions, grabbing and choking the strap with his right hand like it was a deadly snake. He snarled at his stepsister, his hands were shaking for some reason. His face felt hot to the touch and not because he was lactating. Kaleb asked, “What’s this?” “A safety strap,” Layla answered as she ripped the belt free from his hands. “So you don’t fall out of your chair and bump your head.” Kaleb cleared his throat, some defiance was in order. The insinuation from the new strap sunk deep into his bones. It would start with seat belts and end in high chairs, that’s the way this Maturosis cookie ‘crumbled’. “I don’t need a ‘safety strap’,” insisted Kaleb. “I’ve never fallen out before, and I can sit perfectly fine on my own.” “Alright,” sighed Layla. “I guess you’ll need another explanation.” He could tell that her patience was wearing thin, but Kaleb couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. Okay, he could decide. It was funny. The biggest punchline was watching his stepsister slowly get mad over his incessant questions, like a witchy frog in boiling water. This time around, Kaleb got to control the temperature. Layla continued her lesson on Maturosis, while Kaleb tried to prepare more questions, hoping to get a ‘reaction’. “One of the many side effects of the onset of Maturosis is the loss of equilibrium…” “Equal what?” interrupted Kaleb. Layla sighed. “Your center of balance…” “What about it?” asked Kaleb. “Let me finish for once,” Layla said harshly, she had the ever-so familiar look of an angry teacher. “Or are you going to keep interrupting me?” “I just have questions,” Kaleb said with a shrug. “You know who else has questions?” Layla snarked back at her brother. “Four year olds ask too many questions, that’s who. And are you four years old?” “No!” Kaleb expressed in way that said ‘I’m not a four year old’. Layla wrapped his small Tweener hands into one of hers and softly placed them into his lap. She was treating him like a preschooler, which wasn’t exactly calming. “Then be quiet and let me finish. Now where was I? Okay. Maturosis leaves its fingerprints throughout the brain. There is evidence that the physical regression starts inside the cerebellum. You know, the part of the brain that maintains muscle control, posture, equilibrium.” Kaleb went to interrupt with another stupid question, but Layla put a finger to his lips. “As Maturosis works its way through your brain, it toggles and switches, makes changes here and there, reverting mental capacity to that of a young child. Unfortunately, regression is a natural progression for Littles. Are you following?” Layla paused for him to ask another question, but he didn’t have one ready to fire back. “I asked you something,” Layla minded him softly. “Are you following, Kay-Kay?” Unfortunately, Kaleb was following. Despite all his efforts to do otherwise, despite all of his hatred towards this textbook stuff, despite all of his doubts, he was following like a good little duckling. “Um.. yeah.” Kaleb swallowed hard. “I’m following.” “Good boy,” continued Layla, she rubbed the sides of his bare thighs. “The cerebral adjustment is the reason why Littles, who have been walking just fine all of their lives, suddenly need help getting around. That’s why we have strollers and car seats, high chairs and cribs. That’s why they ‘toddle’ like toddlers, and in bad cases, they may need to crawl like babies.” “Oh, no, no, no.” Kaleb wasn’t following anymore. “The reason Littles crawl around is due to you guys. I’ve heard of the surgeries. You know, the ones that mess them up and force them to crawl.” “Once again, you’re failing to understand.” Layla pulled the strap across his lap, preparing to buckle him in. This time, she tapped his hands away when he went to protest. “Those surgeries are for their protection. It’s dangerous to try to walk and fall over, over and over again. They could bump their Little heads. Not all Amazons Little-proof their houses, one sharp table corner, and we’re talking about more than just little ‘boo-boos’.” Kaleb had to question this kind of logic, it was bad to let the Bigs run roughshod with their philosophy. “So you’re saying that you hobble Littles in the name of their protection?” “Of course!” Layla exclaimed with an inappropriate amount of gusto. “Everything we do is for their safety, everything we say is for their benefit. The baby treatment isn’t for our sakes, they need the diapers because they lose control of their ‘pottying’. It doesn’t stop there either, the onesies and baby clothing comes from multiple studies. The research states that Littles are calmed by pastel colors, soft infantile clothing, and they loved being considered cute. In fact, Maturosis changes their sexuality, adjusts their desires, and gives them mommy and daddy cravings, it’s all in the textbook.” “Oh, I’m sure it is,” replied Kaleb. “You think that this is all about Amazons?” Layla sounded shocked, but not too shocked. “That we’re all some crazy cult of motherhood, that we force Littles into sucking their thumbs and messing their pants? I mean, why would we want to change their dirty diapers? That’s ridiculous.” “I heard that Beckie likes changing dirty diapers,” hissed Kaleb, he didn’t like all of the ‘pin-it-all’ on the Littles kind of energy. Layla snapped his buckle together with a loud ‘click’. “Now, where would you hear something like that? Were you spying on our ‘grown-up’ conversation?” Yikes. She’d caught him in the act of eavesdropping after the fact. Kaleb searched for words, but none came, only a good case of the ‘Ums-and-Uhs’. “Uh… um… umm… uhhhh..” “It’s okay, Kay-Kay. Beckie does like taking care of those who need taking care of. Who doesn’t? Littles are sweet, and Littles are cute, and let me let you in on a secret.” Layla leaned in close to her stepbrother, he could feel the heat from her skin, but he didn’t shrink from her as she towered over him, eclipsing the light fixture over the table. “I think she wants to take care of you,” said Layla in a hushed voice. “What do you think of that?” “Nah, really? Where would you get that idea?” Kaleb whispered with enough sarcasm to down a rhino. “She tried to make me ‘orgasm’ in my diaper.” Layla giggled. “Make you? And you weren’t willing at all? You remind me so much of the Littles that mess their pants. They always say that the Amazons make them, but they’re just being ridiculous, like all babies.” “What about Callie?” argued Kaleb, his tone was accusatory, and he was starting to get mad. “You poisoned her bottle. You ‘made’ her mess her diaper. You made me wet my pull-up. Now, I’m in a diaper. You made me take this Cushioning test, now I’m being strapped into a booster seat. What’s next, a high chair? Or a crib? A car seat? Daycare? A nanny?” Layla returned her classic ‘smarter-than-you’ smirk as he got upset; she probably thought his bad attitude was just another symptom. Or worse, that his red faced tirade only made him look cute. Like it or not, he was in his seat, all buckled and ready to eat. He was safe, and secure, and everything that she wanted him to be: An oversized toddler in just a t-shirt and a diaper. “You’re wild, Kay-Kay. This isn’t some grand conspiracy. We’re trying to look after you since you’re unable to look out after yourself. We’re helping you be your best ‘you’, that’s all. Now let’s talk about your eating.” To help him eat his chopped fruit, Layla had given him a special Cushioning test plastic fork. It was baby blue like his diaper with an elephant on the end, exactly the kind of fork that a Little would use, but Kaleb was past the point of arguing. Anything he could do to protest would be used to further explain his descent into Maturosis. Of course, Layla took the time to explain how the fork had sensors and weights to help measure the stigmatic ‘deterioration’ of his ‘fine motor’ skills. Those were mostly her words, not his. She also added a few more scientific terms with many syllables, but he didn’t pay attention to them since he was dead behind the eyes. When she was finished, she double checked the fastening keeping him in place. Then she eyed the wetness indicator at his crotch for a second before she turned away, to leave him to eat by himself. Then she turned back. Layla looked concerned. “Anything wrong, Kay-Kay?” “No,” Kaleb grumbled back, “nothing wrong.” Which was a lie, because everything was wrong. Layla ruffled his feathery hair. “Then get that sour-puss pout off your face, puffy britches.” Sour-puss pout? Puffy britches? That was metaphorical sponge talk, not Layla talk. Whatever. His stepsister was about to go away, and he was about to get some blissful silence. But before she did, Layla planted a friendly kiss on the cheek, which he immediately scrubbed off with a balled fist. “I know you don’t like your safety strap, but you don’t want to fall out and get a ‘boo-boo’. I also know that you’re super nervous about what happens next. Don’t you worry, you’ll always have your Big sis. You’re precious to me, my sweet Kay-Kay. All of this is for you.” There was something wrong with the way Layla used his pet name. ‘Kay-Kay’ was just about as old as their relationship, she’d always referred to him as a child because she knew it bothered him. But this time, ‘Kay-Kay’ lingered behind without the mockery that typically came with it. Kaleb tested the sliced fruit with a touch of the tongue, sniffed at the zoo cookies, and took a pair tentative sips of the milk. No tampering detected. Nothing strange going on, nothing secret. He was also very hungry and very thirsty, so he didn’t put up any fuss or a fight or a fit. He shoved a tiger cracker in his mouth, appreciating its salty sweet crunchiness. Kay-Kay. No big deal. He’d heard it many times before. It just came across differently, that’s all. There was no reason to dwell on it. So why was he dwelling on it? It just sounded different. Endearing, even. Like Layla actually cared about him — he didn’t know why he suddenly felt that way, but he did. Maybe it was a lingering effect from his ill-advised foray into eavesdropping, or it had something to do with saving him from Beckie in his bedroom. Speaking of Beckie, the short haired Amazon may have had strict orders not to go near Kaleb, but she still leered at him from the living room at a distance, sneaking peeks at him as he ate. He was mid-chew into a strawberry when the front door opened. Daylight cascaded through the living room, making the whole house feel that much brighter. His terrible weekend had been so overwhelming that he’d almost forgotten the outside world even existed; suffering from Maturosis does that to a guy. Debbie made her presence known with a screeching loud, “We’re home!” All eyes shot to the door as his stepmom carried in an armload of giant plastic shopping bags. His stepmother rustled with every step as she struggled to get them all to the counter. There were so many, and they were so full, they were all from a popular Little’s and Betweener’s outlet. He took a deep breath — this was going to take some getting used to. “You should have seen all the sweetest things that were on sale,” Debbie said to no one in particular. “I’m just loving my new role as a mommy. It’s been what I’ve been missing, honestly. I feel so alive. I love shopping for cute things — for my cute things.” Yep. Stepmom was still spongy strange. He should’ve figured by her motherly outfit. Debbie wore a dark navy dress with a low bust and flowing skirt that swished when she walked. A broad white hat covered her blonde hair and thick oval sunglasses covered her eyes. His stepmother appeared happier than he’d ever seen her, a toothy grin as she greeted everyone, a smile almost as bright as the real world outside. Debbie hustled over to his stepsister and greeted her with a kiss to the cheek. “Thanks for holding down the fort while I took care of some business. You’ll never guess what happened… No. Wait. I don’t want to ruin the surprise, so I’ll shut my trap.” Layla looked over the bags that sat on the kitchen counter with a regretful look, this was totally not a part of her intricate plans. His stepmom was too busy reading the room to notice Layla’s forlorn expression. Debbie glanced about the house. “Why is it so dark in here?” Layla sighed. “You’re still wearing your sunglasses, mom.” “Oh, yeah.” Debbie giggled like she was a teenager. “That did the trick. Hi there, Beckie. I didn’t see you moping around in the dark.” “Hi… Debbie.” Beckie softly smiled back. The short haired cheerleader kept looking to the door for the return of their friend, but Charlotte was nowhere to be found. She didn’t appear to be sweating as much, he guessed that the hot flash was over. The research notes were corralled around Beckie on the couch, same with the open laptop, and various devices tasked with tabulating the data from his wave readers. His stepmom wandered the adjoining living room now, Kaleb could tell that she was looking for him; he desperately wanted to go unseen, but he was kinda strapped to a booster seat at the moment. “I see Layla… I see Beckie… but I don’t see my sweet little Kaleb. Tell me he was a good little boy while I was gone. Or was he naughty? Does he need a spanking?” Layla assured her, “He was fine, mom.” “Where is he hiding, then?” Debbie searched the living room area around the playmat. “I want to see my baby boy.” Layla pointed his direction like her mom forgot the location of her own dining table. “He’s at the table,” said Layla, “eating lunch.” Kaleb shrank in his chair as Debbie made eye-contact. He could actually see her face light up from the sight of him in his diaper. Yuck. He hated sponges. “There he is!” His stepmom shuffle-stepped her way to him with arms spread wide like mandibles. “Our special boy. Oh, look at that cute diaper! I love, love, love those little teddy bears. What happened to his pull-up, did he have an accident?” Kaleb gritted his teeth. “No.” “Actually, he did have a small ‘oopsie’,” Layla corrected her stepbrother as she came into the kitchen. “He absolutely soaked his pull-up before his bath time. Even after we asked him if he needed to potty, but you know Kay-Kay, as stubborn as he is cute.” “Don’t worry about it, dear, it was just a matter of time,” Debbie said as she further evaluated the change in his wardrobe. “When did you check him last? He might be a little wet from another accident. I don’t want him to have a soggy bottom and clammy thighs.” Layla grinned at Kaleb. “Knock yourself out, mom.” Not worth the hassle of a fight, Kaleb spread his thighs to give her access. Another cracker went into his mouth, followed by a good sip of milk. Lunch was a good thing. There was less pomp and ceremony than usual to her diaper check. It was no longer a ‘pants check’ since he was no longer wearing pants. His stepmother shot a hand to his crotch and gave the thick padding a firm squeeze. Then she sniffed the air around him as he squirmed in his booster seat. “He smells like a clean baby to me,” Debbie said as she stroked his cheek. “And he looks so happy this way.” Kaleb rearranged his face into a deeper scowl, giving his furrowing brow a bit of a cramp from over exertion. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if his stepmom was just stupid, or just lying. He smashed a cracker into his mouth in retaliation, chewing loudly and sending crumbs everywhere. “Hey, mom,” Layla said tentatively. “Did you find Callie?” “No, we didn’t.” Debbie cradled Kaleb by the back of his head, her touch felt so soothing that he didn’t protest. “Charlotte and I stopped by Little procurement and alerted the proper authorities. Naughty Callie won’t get too far. But you know what they say, a baby in a bassinet is worth two Littles still trying to ‘adult’.” “No one says that, mom.” Layla wasn’t having a good time with her wacko mother.“Where’s Charlotte? Did you drop her off at her place or something?” “They’ll be here in a second,” explained Debbie. “Let me show you what we picked up at the store.” Wait a sec. They? Who’s they? Kaleb shot a look to Layla, who returned one with equally wide-eyed bewilderment. A lot was happening at once, and he had a front row seat to everything — and snacks, too. However, one thing was clear, ‘they’ was definitely not a good thing, and ‘they’ wasn’t a Layla thing either. Whoever ‘they’ were, ‘they’ had stopped at a Little supply store. Kaleb turned his head and glanced over to the bags. He spotted a three pack of “Quiet Time” pacifiers, a four pack of heavy bib/burp cloths, and a weird looking Zebra themed rattle thing. And that was just one bag, there were at least a dozen in the kitchen, maybe even more in the car. Where did his mom get the money to buy all of these things? His family was never the type to have money, even if his father worked all of the time. More mysteries. Kaleb anxiously shoved another cracker in his mouth to combat the suspense. “Mom?” Layla approached Debbie as his stepmom organized the plastic bags into random piles on the countertop. Debbie didn’t look up from the bags. “What, honey?” Layla asked, “Who is with you?” “That’s the surprise,” Debbie delivered with a creepy smile. “And I don’t want to spoil the surprise for my sweet Princess Lay-Lay.” “Mom! You can’t call me that!” Layla took a step away from her mother, as if Debbie revealed a weapon from her navy dress. “You haven’t called me Lay-Lay since I was a kid!” Now, this was certainly a revelation, a new curveball in this story. He’s never heard the name ‘Lay-Lay’ in his life. The mentioning of his stepsister’s pet name was such a shock to the system that Kaleb stopped chewing on a strawberry. All of it was tasty, the fruit and his stepsister’s state of panic. “I know, I know,” Debbie gushed as she pulled out a series of very big bottles from the shopping bag. “You were just so cute with your princess dresses and all of that fake plastic show jewelry. You used to sing and dance and play pretend — all in your diapers. Just like you’re doing now, my sweet scientist. Without the diapers, of course.” Layla grabbed her mom’s arm, shaking the crazy lady out of her whimsical daydream. The older Amazon put the bags down to give her daughter her full attention. Diaper talk was a ‘no, no’ in Amazon land. Debbie asked, “What’s gotten into you, honey?” “No, mom,” exclaimed Layla. “What’s gotten into you? You’re going mothering crazy, have you been taking your pills?” Debbie guffawed. “I haven’t been taking those in years, honey. This is ‘au naturale’. I feel so young again, like in my thirties. Thanks for letting me help with your experiment. I loved the shopping, looking at diapers and cute clothes again. It’s all been so fun, like throwing my own baby shower for my babies.” Layla grimaced as if mom’s words made her skin crawl. “Babies?” questioned his stepsister. “What babies?” Her mother didn’t get a chance to answer because another Amazon was at the door, casting a massive shadow into the house. The shadowed woman was tall and thin, her features sharp and her demeanor exquisite and professional. She was middle aged but not old, and she relished in her experience. Her brown hair was tied into a tight bun, she wore small oval glasses that perched precariously on her nose, and she was dressed in a blue blouse, black pants, and a white lab coat. “Hello, everyone,” the woman announced from the doorway. “We had a special someone who didn’t want to get out of the car, but I said, ‘if you don’t get out of the car this instant, no one will change your diaper’. That seemed to do the trick, withholding changes always does. Look who’s here to see you, Charlotte.” Kaleb twisted in his booster seat, cursing the fact he faced away from the door. He turned his upper body, spinning his head around almost like an owl. This was starting to get very interesting, from his perspective. From his stepsister’s POV, it was starting to get horrifying as her friend Charlotte was practically pushed into the living room by the larger woman. The visit to the Empathy Center certainly did a number on her wardrobe. Charlotte looked different. Very different. Her pitch black long and curly hair was done into a pair of pigtails perfectly tied by yellow ribbons. Charlotte was dressed in a canary colored party dress that offset her dark complexion, its short skirt revealing a thick white disposable diaper. Her face was set to horrified; mostly in the catatonic eyes, they’d seen things she didn’t understand just this morning. The zombie-like, Little-dressed Amazon didn’t have to tell him what had happened, she didn’t even have to explain anything to her friends. Everyone knew. Plus, she couldn’t exactly tell them in the first place, since her mouth was plugged by a patented adjustable sized “Quiet Time” pacifier that had the letters QT on the white shield. As the center of attention, Charlotte stumbled into the living room, trying to hide her face and her diaper at the same time, resulting in something of a manic dance of shame. No one uttered a word. Not the teens. Not the older women. Not Kaleb. Charlotte sulked in silence as the room ate her alive. This was the first time that Kaleb had ever seen a Big get the Little treatment. The huge diapers, the infantile dress, the disgraced look on her face as she had to wear it all in front of her friends. Charlotte backed away from the faces she knew, away from Layla in the kitchen, away from Debbie at the counter, spinning away from Beckie on the couch. The ‘babified’ Amazon was hiding something, and Kaleb knew exactly what, she was hiding a full diaper. As she spun like a top, Charlotte came closer and closer to Beckie; until she tripped and fell over, and her short skirt flipped up, revealing a discolored diaper for all to see. Beckie wrinkled her nose. “Uggh.. Charlotte?” “Somebody has a stinky diaper.” The new Amazon flowed into the living room, lab coat billowing behind her every step. “It’s okay to tell her so. In fact, I’m halfway surprised you didn’t notice before she got so close.” “I’m sorry,” Beckie looked up at the woman. “But who the heck are you?” The Amazon in the white lab coat picked Charlotte up by her elbows, propping up the younger girl into a standing position despite her squirmy protests. “My name is Dr. Mira,” said Dr. Mira. “I assume that you’re Beckie, because you’re just as clueless about mothering as Debbie described.” “Excuse me?” Beckie glared at the new addition to the house. “I don’t know where you get off on calling me clueless.” “You don’t know?” Dr. Mira mockingly tapped a finger to her cheek. “Maybe that’s why she called you ‘clueless’.” Beckie was about to put aside her laptop and give the Mira-lady a piece of her mind when Layla joined the conversation. “Wait a sec…” Layla stepped into the living room. “You’re Dr. Mira? THE Dr. Mira?” Beckie fanned her nose as Mira practically pushed Charlotte into her lap. Turns out, Beckie wasn’t so interested in changing her friend. Only Kaleb garnered that kind of attention from the cheerleader. “Who’s Dr. Mira?” Beckie asked the room, trying to keep away the oversized baby. From his forgotten spot at the table, Kaleb wondered the same. Another piece of fruit went to his mouth as his brain flipped to ‘sardonic’. He didn’t know who Dr. Mira was, but he didn’t care. What was one more clown to this circus? Dr. Mira waited for Layla to give her a proper introduction. The older Amazon stood at attention, almost if posing for a statue. Everyone was watching, and Dr. Mira soaked in the attention like a sponge. She was the living embodiment of the potential energy. “Those in the business call her the ‘Little Whisperer’,” Layla started into her spiel, one that was two parts admiration and one part adoration. “She’s one of the premier scientists in Matters of Maturosis, like a rockstar in the field. Dr. Mira had a hand in coming up with majority of the terminology, and she wrote almost all of the methodology. This is the most famous Little studies scientist in the world, and she’s in my living room.” Beckie glared at Dr. Mira, then cast her eyes over to Charlotte who sulked at the opposite end of the couch. Her heart went out to her friend in a diaper, not to the Little studies scientist that probably made it happen. Kaleb could easily guess that she wasn’t the biggest fan of their new guest. Very much unlike Layla. “Most of all…” Layla smiled as she saved the best for last. “She’s the author of our textbook.”

Sorry for the wait, some of the new ideas will come in after this chapter. The influence of extra time, good comments, and a new ideas have paid off, it’s going to get interesting for Kaleb and his teenage Amazon caregivers. For those worried about Kaleb’s well being, I’ll try to take care of him. Or if I don’t, I’ll at least try to find a nice Amazon who will. Thanks for reading! ….. 11 Things weren’t looking so good for team ‘Clean Diaper’. Beckie pressed her bigger body against his back, effectively pinning Kaleb facedown on the bed. Her giant boobs bounced with every thrust of her hips, and the ride was getting rougher by the minute. The Amazon was grinding herself into him at a feverish pace, while Kaleb was stuck underneath, gasping for air, and clawing at the sheets. He tried to get away, he tried to pull himself free from her wondrous gyrations, but their bodies were pressed too tightly together. There was sweating and grunting, and Kaleb struggled against every sensation, as if all five senses were at war with his willpower. He focused on keeping his mind out of the gutter; which was a difficult task, since his thoughts were the only things he had under control. His penis? Not so much. That guy had a mind of its own, and the traitor was trying steer his ship into dark waters. The impromptu dry humping tutorial was making his own body mutiny. The crotch-side of the diaper was delightfully slick against him. Thirsty inner padding wrapped around his manhood, giving him a nice, warm hug. The helpless feeling of being trapped triggered his inner masochist. There were lovely smells; a mix of baby fresh and aerosol candy filling his lungs as irresistible pleasure burned hot between his legs. “There we go, baby. There we go, nice and easy. Feel the rhythm inside of you — let out your inner Little. He wants to play!” Beckie kept encouraging him like he had a choice in the matter. “Once you like your diapies, you won’t feel so bad having to wear them. Once you love your diapies, you’ll never want to go back to big boy pants again. This is so good for your growth. Acceptance is the best remedy for Maturosis.” Yeah, Kaleb didn’t believe that bit either. He didn’t say anything about it, even if her hand no longer covered his mouth. Arguing was pointless, and he doing all he could to breathe. Beckie managed to crush the air out of him with every pelvic push. He felt like he was an accordion, and this fast paced song was called the ‘crinkle diaper polka’. Kaleb did everything he could not to give in and release a ‘sticky’ diaper. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. He was practically begging himself not to orgasm. His mind fought the urging from his body, as the passion commanded him to just ‘let go’. His insides screamed out orders in the name of pleasure, but he kept them at bay, his inner thoughts were his only ally — for now. If Maturosis lived beyond the confines of the textbook, then the goings on in his brain was his worse enemy. It just kept going. The hardness. The slickness. The delightful friction into the soft padding. Just as he had about given up, and decided that making a sticky diaper wasn’t the end of the world, something surprising happened. A good surprising, rather than the usual bad variety. The faux wood door to his room burst open with such force that it rattled the walls, and Layla came in like a tempest trapped in a soda can. Her bright eyes were locked on a small device with a screen. “Stop it, you little pervert!” Layla shouted as the door flew open. “You’re throwing off the…” His stepsister trailed off as soon as she saw what was happening on the bed. Both the Amazon and Betweener transformed into a pair of statues, which didn’t help matters, because there was no denying their wrong-doing even if they remained perfectly still. “What the hell, Beckie?” Layla screeched at maximum volume. “Are you trying to bang my little brother?” That got Beckie off his back, and fast. The Amazon mumbled some kind of explanation as she stumbled onto the floor, leaving them both panting and unsatisfied. Kaleb took full advantage of the brief window of freedom. He scrambled off the bed and into the corner furthest away from his attacker, taking the package of wet wipes with him for self defense. If any one of the two Amazons tried to grab him, they were going to get a 2 pound brick of wet wipe thrown in their face. Maybe the baby powder would have been a better weapon. He could puff the stuff into their eyes or squeeze out a milky white smoke screen, but the powder canister was still far away on the bed next to Beckie. The short haired Amazon scratched at her eyebrow as she tried to come up with a good excuse for her actions. Kaleb could tell that she was nervous, and rightfully so, Layla looked ready to toss her friend out the window. “Um..” muttered Beckie, “it’s not what it looks like.” “I sure hope it isn’t!” Layla countered. “His alarms were going crazy, the heat signatures detected by the padding combined with the Beta-alphas…” Beckie squealed, “Did the computer say he was having a good time?” Kaleb died inside. He’d done so half a dozen times already this weekend, but the taste of death was bitter on the tongue every time. “You should know better than to derail the Cushioning test,” Layla reprimanded her friend. “This is a school project, remember? How are we supposed to document his reactions if you force him to cream himself?” “It was just a bit of fun.” Beckie tried to shrug away the guilt she felt. “Science is serious business,” continued Layla. “So is our homework, we’re not supposed to confuse work and play. Plus... Ewww! He’s my little bro.” “It isn’t at all like that,” Beckie placated his stepsis with both palms raised. “He was curious about how to.. ‘get off’. I thought it was worth teaching him something about himself — if he really has Maturosis, he’s got to be curious. You were just curious, weren’t you, Kay?” Kaleb caught hopeful eyes from both Bigs, they made him feel smaller in his own room. He assured them, “I am 100%, totally not curious.” “He’s trying to hide it,” giggled Beckie. “But that epic blush tells you everything you need to know. He’s diaper curious, it’s a classic defense from those suffering Maturosis. They like the diapers, but they insist that they don’t. The charade is all so silly, isn’t it?” “Liar!” Kaleb cried out from his corner, he armed the pack of wet wipes to send forth like a missile. “Chill pill, Little bro. Now one of you is not telling the truth. The good news is that I have a way to find out who’s lying.” Layla pressed some buttons on the touch screen of her hand held. “Kay-Kay, I just turned on the wave readers to see inside your Tweener head.” Immediately, Kaleb didn’t like where this was going. Layla brushed a rebellious strand of blonde hair from her forehead. She exhaled a long sigh, then cradled the hand held screen like a soothsayers’ crystal ball. “So tell the truth,” his stepsister said softly. “Did you ask Beckie how to ‘get off’ in your diaper?” “No!” he shouted his answer. “Of course not!” Layla shook her head and tugged at her lip with her mouth. “Then why does my computer say that you’re lying?” Knowing that she had won, Beckie gave him a little cocky grin. What? When did he ask how Littles got off in their diapers? Kaleb grimaced, he closed his eyes to try to find out when he lied, or did he forget or something? No, he wasn’t lying. The machine was lying. But machines never lied, unless they were programmed to lie. This was all too much, coming too fast, coming too hot. The room was stifling. Maybe the wave readers were lying? Maybe it was all an Amazon trick. He searched the last few minutes as best as he could, coming away with a mental blank spot pre-diapering. Was he losing his mind? Was Maturosis turning his brain into Swiss cheese? No. No. No. “See? I’m not wrong,” Beckie raised an eyebrow. “Curious is as curious does. You should’ve heard him asking all of his precious questions. He wants to know all about himself, and I was just helping him come to grips with his condition.” Kaleb went to defend himself. “It’s… That’s… Ugh!” “Try to be a little less ‘hands-on’ next time,” Layla said to Beckie. “I thought he was jacking off in his diaper. I was about to get the mittens.” “Oh, come on!” Kaleb complained from the corner he crawled into. “You know I’d never do that, right?” Kaleb glanced from one Amazon to another, hoping for them to see reason, but he didn’t know why he even kept trying. If they didn’t believe him before, why should they believe him now? “My mom called,” Layla said. “Beckie and I are going to need to have a grown-up conversation in the living room.” “What about?” asked Kaleb, cross-legged in the corner. “Grown-up conversation,” repeated Layla, who side-eyed him hard. “You need to stay in here until you get yourself under control.” “I am under control,” Kaleb snapped back. “Beckie is the one that’s out of control.” Layla held up the screen that revealed his diaper’s innermost secrets. “I’m talking about this ‘boner boy’.” Kaleb started, “I don’t have a— “ Then he stopped talking as he re-evaluated himself. As it stood, it looked like the boner patrol caught one. He was certainly still… yeah. Aroused would be the right word. The baby oiled mutiny inside his diaper remained out of control. Red faced and ashamed, he covered the front of the diaper with the purple pack of wipes. The padding of the level two DP was thick, but not thick enough to hide his semi-erection. His throat felt raw and the air felt like a giant stone with jagged edge. He swallowed his pride and forgot whatever words he was going to say. “It’s a perfectly natural reaction,” explained Beckie. “It happens to Little boys all of the time, especially after bath time and a fresh change.” Her happy face made him hate his situation even more. She loved what she was doing to him, and Beckie would have sealed the deal if Layla hadn’t barged in like her hair was on fire. “Don’t worry about it, Kay-Kay.” Layla recognized the opportunity to get some more barbs in. She might as well pile on, he’d been humiliating himself all weekend. “Maybe we can pour some cold water down there, but that would just set off your wetness sensor instead of your arousal sensor. Just the Little problems, am I right?” “There’s nothing little about it,” purred Beckie as she batted her eyes at him. Layla frowned at her friend. “Beckie… gross.” “Sorry… I’m just… I dunno.” Beckie didn’t appear phased by Layla’s reaction, her inner ‘sponge’ was sopping wet and dripping on the inside. “He’s just so cute! I can’t stop thinking about him and his widdle teddy bear diapers. Just look at him over there, he needs a warm bottle and a nap. He might just wake up wet! Then he’ll need a change and a new outfit, then maybe we can take him to the park or something. I can’t wait!” Layla paused. “Uh, Beckie?” “Yeah,” Beckie beamed back. “Are you okay?” “I’m super,” answered Beckie. “I mean, I’m excited about the homework.” “I think you both need a time out. Some separation is in order, for the good of everyone.” His stepsister evaluated them both with her eagle eyes, then she pointed at him. “Kay-Kay, you’re in timeout. Stay in your room until I tell you can leave. Get a shirt on… if you can’t figure it out, you can call on me for help — not Beckie. She’s in timeout, too.” Kaleb tried to argue, “I can dress my…” “Maturosis affects your ability to dress yourself,” interrupted Layla. “Like it or not, you’re going to have to play by its rules. Also, no pants. I don’t want you to hide any more accidents, you can get a bad rash that way.” “I don’t have accidents,” said Kaleb, who was stone faced and tired. “And I can dress myself just fine.” “It’s okay to have accidents, Kay.” Beckie spoke rapidly as if her thoughts had a time limit. “I can change your diaper if you have an accident. Pee-pee, poo-poo, whatever is inside your diaper, I can take care of with love and care and devotion.” “Alright,” said Layla. “That’s enough baby time for you.” Layla firmly grabbed her rambling friend by the shoulders, turning Beckie towards the door to the hall, and guiding her to the living room. When Beckie was out of sight, Layla glared at him from the doorway one last time before she slammed the door shut, leaving him alone for the first time all day. What was that all about? Jeez, this was so crazy. He combed through his feathery hair with his fingers. It felt downy and soft from Beckie’s shampooing. He had to admit that it did feel nice. Now that it was calm, his bedroom felt weird again. All quiet and alone, the ceiling fan wasn’t moving, and the sunlight seemed stale in the baby smelling air. Like this place was once ‘his’, but not really not ‘his’ anymore. The feeling came from something more than the diaper changing station that sat on his bed. Even non-Little related things seemed off and different. The posters on the wall felt like they didn’t belong, same with the computer and desk where he played games, same with the books he never read and the clean and organized closet his stepmom did the night before. Then there were the diaper changing supplies, those were harder to deny. He fought hard against the reality of the moment. Like, did this really happen just now? The evidence was everywhere. The wipes were still in his hand, the changing mat on the bed, the baby powder in the air and all over his crotch, the discarded pink towel a wet heap on the carpet. This was a murder scene — but who exactly got killed? His dignity. His dignity died right there on the bed, face down and diaper-ass up. The forced diapering and the bum-humping Big did the dirty deed. Kaleb might as well get the chalk and outline the gentle impression of his body on the bed sheets. Okay. Time to move forward. He rubbed his palms together. Shirt. Shirt. Moving forward would help get his mind off things, he was sure of it. Kaleb went to the dresser, grabbed one of his many black shirts, and threw it on over his head. The familiar clothing felt normal and natural, unlike the pull-ups, monkey pajamas, and the diaper that he tried not to think about. The teddy bear diaper rustled as he moved, he didn’t have to fully waddle with each step, it was more a half waddle kind of thing. Thick plastic padding separated the thighs, the waistband flared at his belly, and the heavier padded backside slightly drooped from his bottom. Maybe he could cover the DP by pulling down his shirt? No dice. He pulled down the bottom of his shirt, but it barely covered where the taps went across his waist. The baby blue teddy bears were there for all to see, even the big smiling one on his butt would be fully visible. It was all so embarrassing, and there was also a dash of hopelessness, too. — A wonderful mix for his psyche. Kaleb had to cover up this diaper, for sanity’s sake. Maybe he ‘could borrow’ one of Layla’s night gowns to cover up the teddy bear printed Detector-protector. Kaleb shook his head. Of all the bad ideas, that quick thought was one of his worsts, and would send the wrong message to the Bigs in the house. Amazons were notorious for turning regular Little boys into baby girls. It felt so hopeless… Think positive, Kay. Positive. Positive. The good news was that he could still manage to dress himself. He examined his black shirt; it was on correctly, a rare win on this kind of day. Celebrating the small victories felt kinda stupid, but Kaleb actually worried about not being able to do the simple things: like putting on his own clothes — as well as making it to the toilet on time. Which he was 0 for 1 right now. There was always the next bathroom break, he’d get it right the next time. Right? Riiight? So why was he so down on himself? The problem was that everything that sounded ridiculous was coming into fruition. Kaleb had to remind himself that Maturosis was only a made-up concept from pages of Layla’s stupid textbook. Layla and Beckie hadn’t fully convinced him that it was real; however, the big M-word certainly felt more alive than it did before this morning. Kaleb could feel it growing in the recess of his mind, ready to gobble up the rest of his maturity at a moment’s notice. He was about to settle onto his bed, and wait for his stepsister to give him parole, when booming voices brought him out of his thoughts. “This isn’t working like you said!” Beckie yelled. “Because you’re not doing what I said,” corrected Layla, just as loud and just as fierce. It sounded as if Beckie and Layla were having an intense ‘conversation’. He could hear the two Amazons arguing in the living room, their angry words enough to hammer through the thin walls of his cheap house. Suddenly, Kaleb had an idea. A better idea than wearing one of his sister’s dresses to cover his diaper. A much better one. Eavesdropping was bad. His mom always used to tell him that. She said that when you eavesdrop, you heard things that you shouldn’t hear. However, she also was the main drive of putting Kaleb in the Little programs at school. So screw mom’s advice. Kaleb hurried on his tip toes to the edge of the room, maybe he could hear better if he pressed his ear against the wall. He couldn’t miss this golden opportunity: a chance to hear what they really had to say, to peer through opposite side of their Kay-Kay filter and learn some hard truths. Amazons lied when they spoke face to face, it was in their DNA just as much as Littles liked to wet their pants. Any chance to pierce the veil was rare, and he’d long stopped caring whether or not eavesdropping was rude — it had been that kind of morning. His stepsister was the louder of the two, he could recognize her extra-condescending voice from a mile away. “This isn’t part of the plan! We are a team, remember? You need to tone it down before we’re all caught up like Charlotte.” “I’m following the plan!” Beckie screamed back. “It’s not my fault that it’s falling apart. You’re the one who enlisted your dumb mom. You run ‘point’ on everything, and now that it’s getting rough you’re wanting to blame someone else. I don’t buy that!” “Then you shouldn’t have signed up for babysitting duty,” snarked Layla. “It’s not the baby that’s the problem,” argued Beckie, her voice was harsh and words came out sharp. “It’s little Miss Downfall, little Miss Perfect Plan, little Miss Suck-up. All you do is plot and plot, scheme and scheme. How do I know you’re not plotting against me? Or did you plot against Charlotte?” Judging by the following silence, Beckie seemed to have struck a nerve. Layla was called out, and by a friend no less. And what had happened to Charlotte? Beckie seemed pretty upset about the missing cheerleader. Kaleb cupped his hand around his ear, turning up the volume of the next room. “This isn’t a game anymore,” said Beckie. “I don’t feel like I can trust you.” “Don’t be so paranoid,” his stepsister huffed. “Someone might think you have Maturosis.” Beckie replied sarcastically, “I wonder who would give them that idea?” Kaleb knew from personal experience that his stepsister would be the perfect one to lead that charge. There was another poignant pause as the two Amazons gathered themselves. For a moment, Kaleb thought they were done talking; their voices were getting softer, making it harder to eavesdrop. He pressed switched ears and pressed his cheek flush against the wall. “Speaking of trust,” started Layla. “Why did you do it?” “Do what?” replied Beckie. Layla asked, “Why did you let Callie out?” “You want to blame that on me?” Beckie said with a laugh. “That’s rich coming from the likes of you. I have no clue who let her out. You seem to think that it was your brother, but I’m pretty sure it was your mom. Maybe Callie got out on her own, since your house doesn’t have any safe playpens.” “You never were the thinker of our bunch,” grumbled Layla. “You know, Charlotte warned me about you,” snapped Beckie, she didn’t sound sticky sweet like her candy perfume. “Charlotte said to watch out when I’m around you, because you’re so two-faced and sneaky. But from from the sounds of it, it’s your mom she should’ve worried about. An empathy center? That’s crazy. This homework assignment has gone too far, we should stop the experiment and go home. Judging by the results, it’s just a matter of time until Kay is in diapers, let’s not be the ones to stick out our necks.” Layla would have none of that idea. “No, no! It has to happen this weekend. No way I’m aborting the Cushioning when we’re already passed the halfway point. My little brother has been able to dodge reality for far too long. I figured that he was just stupid and immature, but his Beta-Alphas tell the real story. The textbook has spoken: Kaleb HAS Maturosis, and he needs our help. Besides, I thought you were all about Kay-Kay in diapers, you’ve been running your mouth about it all weekend.” “I was, and I still am,” answered Beckie, “but there’s a right way to take care of him.” Layla scoffed, “And the right way is to climb on top of him and show him how to get off?” “It was only a little lesson,” argued Beckie. His stepsister laughed. “Is that what they call it?” “As I was saying…” continued Beckie, ignoring the obvious jab. “If we do this wrong, he might drop too many social emotional levels. I love the idea of a toddler Kay, not a fully ‘babified’ Little. I want to see his smile, I want some of that playful personality, I want him to be him. We will lose him if we don’t do this the right way.” “That still doesn’t explain your behavior,” snapped Layla. “What do you want to hear, Layla? I just can’t help myself around him, alright? He’s too cute. You don’t see Kay the way I do, which is okay. You wanted him taken down a notch. I want him taken care of — I want him like he is — I want him happy. He needs to be content with Maturosis.” “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we don’t get to decide these things,” said Layla. “Only Maturosis decides where his plateaus will be, not us. It’s a degenerative condition, not an opportunity to play house. Do you get what’s happening to him? Do you?” Layla’s voice was so firm it hammered into his heart, Kaleb was sure it did the same to Beckie. He held his breath in his room, unmoving, frozen solid from trepidation. As Layla laid it out for her friend, and unknowingly, for her hiding stepbrother. “The regression shows up first in his childish interests. Playing games, being irresponsible, not keeping up with his peer group. We’ve long since passed that point — now it will wreak havoc on his limited understandings. There will be childish emotional outbursts and toddler-like temper tantrums. He will need our help with the simplest of things, because the simplest of things will only overwhelm him.” “I can help him,” offered Beckie. “Just tell me what to do.” “You can listen for once,” Layla cautioned her friend. “The Cushioning test is designed to measure his descent, but it’s also designed to prepare him for his future. How has he reacted so far? With anxiety. With anger. With self-denial. Kaleb will be so frustrated and frightened when it all goes down, and he’s not going to take this well. Look, his toilet training is already starting to go, and he’s already curious about his diapers, it’s only a matter of time until he has a messy one.” “I don’t mind messy diapers,” interrupted Beckie. “The point is,” Layla continued, undeterred. “Kay-Kay won’t be able to properly dress or eat, or potty, you name it. His interests will change, so will his desires. He’ll need bibs, and bottles, baths, naps, and diaper changes. He needs someone to take care of him, not someone to make out with. When he gets worse, and he will get worse, he’s going to need more and more from a caregiver. Are you prepared for that?” “I’d like to think that I am,” replied Beckie, self-assured. “I think we have to make him more aware of his condition. There are fun sides to being a Little. It’s not the end of the world.” “I wholeheartedly agree,” said Layla. “I don’t think it’ll take much longer for him to come to some hard truths, honestly. Kay-Kay thinks Maturosis is just something we made up. That everyone is lying, and the world is all against him, but it’s really Kay-Kay just lying to himself — classic textbook typical Little persecution complex. Lies have a way of catching up to people who deny reality, and then the truth will hit like a truck. We need to be the ones to be there when it does; we need to be the ones to take care of him as he regresses further.” “You’re right,” agreed Beckie. “We need to see this all the way through. Just do something about your psycho mom. I want to change diapers, not wear them.” “I’ll get ahold of my mom,” offered Layla. “Maybe make her tone it down a bit.” “I’d appreciate that,” Beckie said to Layla. “Is it just me, or has Kay been awfully quiet?” “Let me check,” Layla said softly. “It looks like his arousal meters have gone back to baseline. I’ll go get him and make some lunch. I hope he’s not using this privacy break as a chance to mess his pants.” “I call first wipe if he’s stinky,” quipped Beckie. Both girls giggled. Kaleb couldn’t stand to listen to the rest. He was too busy shaking in a fetal position on the floor. Maybe the truth was too much for him to handle. That’s why he was clutching at the carpet, fighting the tears in his eyes. Maturosis was a ‘unkillable’ monster. A beast that lurked within without him even noticing until it was too late. Or Maturosis was a mythical monster, one that only exists for sake of believers, sycophants, the typical Amazon types. Something that didn’t exist outside of their ideologies and textbooks. But which was it? Before this weekend, Maturosis totally belonged to the latter; but after that short bit of eavesdropping, Kaleb wasn’t sure about anything. It was like the rug had been ripped away from his world — and anything was possible. Even mythical monsters. In hindsight, lies that came face to face were much better than the bitter truth. Truth sucks, but was it his truth? More questions than answers came from his ear to the wall. He hated to admit it, but Layla brought up good points. Like logical thinking. Not typical textbook BS, or her usual meanness; she sounded like she actually cared. Who was the bad guy in all of this? Who was the one being unreasonable? Him? Her? No answer pleased him. If Maturosis was real, and he was suffering from this ‘condition’, there had to be evidence. The proof would be in the pudding; hopefully, pudding in a dessert bowl and not in the back of his diaper. He had to keep an eye out for more said ‘evidence’. He had to swallow more than his pride. He had to see things from his stepsister’s perspective. But what if Layla was just really good at lying? Dang, his stepsister was brilliant at spinning her web. So much so that Kaleb was actually starting to believe her. If he was sick with Maturosis, then her textbook was the only way out of this tunnel. Kaleb rolled onto his back and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his bare legs in a warm hug. He folded in half, becoming a ball of a baby boy, diaper crinkling and all. The baby powder smell was everywhere, the baby feel of the soft padding cradled him as he rolled from side to side. His mind raced from all the possibilities. His mom was finally right about one thing: The problem with eavesdropping is you might hear something that you shouldn’t hear.

Real quick. There will be an update this week. Thanks for everyone’s interest.

I'm glad you like the chapter, I think you're onto something about Beckie's behavior being inappropriate. It's wildly immature to play with her charge like this. Maybe someone ought to teach her the error of her ways. Thanks for the compliments. Beckie likes Kaleb when she thinks he's like a Little, less so when she thinks he's like a Betweener. Its a confusing feeling for her, and it will be addressed by a more authoritative Amazon in future chapters. .... Bad news. I haven't been able to work on this story at all the past week or so, and I'm not able to write for at least a couple of more weeks. I may not be able to add any new chapters until July. Sorry. I do plan on finishing 'Recessive', the story has legs, and its like 60% done. Good news. I can use the extra time to plan on adding a lot more suggestions, there's been a lot of good ideas in the comments, etc. that I would like to add, but it will take some more meticulous planning to make everything happen. While not being able to write, I can still think about the story in the coming weeks, and put all of the pieces together. As always, thanks for reading and comments. It's what really makes this fun.

I’m getting that vibe, too. In my diaper dimension world, Littles are not viewed entirely the same was as children, they’re just treated like babies. For example, if an Amazon shows off their child, they’d say “this is my kid” vs. when an Amazon shows of their Little, they’d say “this is my Little”. It evokes a different set of emotions and ways for caring, it fills a different hole their heart, it completes Amazons in different ways. Being around Littles is exciting to Amazons, in more ways than one. Especially for younger Amazons, who have confusing burgeoning feelings about Littles and adoption themselves. So seeing lame old Kaleb as a Betweener does nothing for Beckie; but when she sees him as little Kay-Kay, look out. Maybe the difference has something to do with Maturosis, maybe it’s a two way street affecting both Big and Little alike, or maybe it’s just an invisible ‘sponge’. So Beckie’s motherly care is different than being a ‘mom’, more like wanting to be with him as a ‘mommy’. Who knows? This might be just the thing that Kaleb needs, he’s been ignoring the call of his inner Little all of his life, and Layla and the gang are just the ones to help him pick up the phone. All characters are over eighteen. Thanks for reading! ….. Recessive 10 …. 10 Diapers. At the end of the day, this was all about diapers. Amazons were obsessed with diapers. Both cloth and disposables were in cutesy adverts just about everywhere, and they came in all sizes, all colors, all varieties, even for Bigs themselves. Their faces would light up when they saw someone in diapers, Kaleb had seen it with his own eyes, it didn’t matter if the victim was a Little or not. Their voices would go up an octave, and they’d get so freaking expressive; women’s rosy cheeks would flush, while the men would chortle and make rude remarks. The Bigs loved to make loud comments about diaper checks, or about how cute someone’s pampers looked, or by pretending to smell a dirty diaper. They did this to just about everyone, to a classmate or coworker, to a family member, or to a best friend. Bigs were weird, Kaleb was glad he didn’t inherit their strange fondness for disposable underwear. They lived for diapering, like it was a way of life. For some reason, they decided that a “good diapering” was the best solution to many of society’s problems. The padded remedy that cured all ills. This disastrous weekend-long Cushioning test was hardly Kaleb’s first experience with the threat of a “good diapering”. In primary school, the Little treatment was standard fare for any kind of transgression. Forgetting homework meant being treated like a Little. Talk too much in class? Little time. Get a couple of bad grades? Little. Little. Little. Kaleb did all of these things, so he got the Little treatment — frequently. There were spankings, time in the corner, spending a lovely afternoon making out with a pacifier. Then there were the diapers. On more than one occasion, Amazons used them to correct his ‘crooked desk’. As a youngster, Kaleb knew every brand of every kind. What it felt like to wear with pants and without, their infantile feel, their permeating smell, the tightness of locking Little proof tapes, the puffy feeling of a padded bottom. Strangely enough, all of those memories felt lost in the shuffle; like they happened to a person that used to be him, but someone who he barely registered or remembered. That is, until this weekend, and the memories all came flooding back. All his life he kept the Bigs at bay by keeping a ‘clean ship’, for they needed ‘proof’ of his immaturity to treat him like a Little — ‘proof’ he had never supplied until he wet his pants in the hallway just minutes ago. So this entire ‘He’s a Little’ charade had happened before; but this time it felt different, like the baby blue walls were actually closing in, and he felt the Maturosis noose tighten around his Tweener neck. Even his own bedroom felt foreign, as an all too familiar alien presence sat on top of his bed: A disposable detector-protector that looked super thick and had lockable tapes, covered in a infantile teddy bear print. It was safe to say that his safe space was no longer safe. “I don’t think I have Maturosis,” Kaleb said over his shoulder to Beckie. “And why’s that?” Beckie remained behind him, operating as a jail cell door, making sure he couldn’t leave. “If I had Maturosis, wouldn’t I like being treated like a baby?” Kaleb continued as he double checked the integrity pink towel around his waist. “Like, if my strata or mesa, or mountain, or whatever, said I was a baby, I would want to do baby things, right? I would like baby things, but I don’t like baby things, so make it make sense.” Maybe she wasn’t listening, maybe she didn’t care, or maybe his arguments didn’t make any sense, but she didn’t even give him an immediate response. Beckie marched him one painful step at a time towards the bed, and what waited for him there, positioning him in front of the waiting changing mat. “Quit trying to talk your way out of this, Kay. Questioning everything will only make your Maturosis worse.” Kaleb stared down at the smiling cartoon animals that decorated the changing mat laid flat across his bed. His tired eyes scanned the room like a detective at a murder scene. Every intimate detail seemed important enough to slow time, down to the smallest most minuscule thing in front of him. A rectangular changing mat was spread out on top of his perfectly made bed. A purple-plastic package of wet wipes sat already opened, with a puff of lavender scented white wipe poking free. A small canister of baby powder was open, it’s gentle smell already affecting the atmosphere of his bedroom. And next to all of that, the blue and white disposable diaper. The baby blue belonging to the smiling teddy bear print, while the white belonged to just about everything else besides the heavy looking tapes — those were blue, too. There was even a huge smiling teddy bear on the butt-side, soon to be covering his butt. “Let me guess,” Kaleb muttered as he died inside, “this diaper is research based.” “Absolutely,” answered Beckie, her hyper-mothering enthusiasm was growing by the second. “However, the level two Detector-Protector isn’t exactly a diaper. I mean, its function is relatively the same, and we can call it a ‘diaper’, but it’s so much more! There’s a lot of technology within the padding, and not just wetness sensors either, tons of stuff that make it different than what you’d pick up off the shelves at the Little store.” How much technology could the Amazons fit into a wearable bathroom? He actually didn’t really want to know, so Kaleb swallowed his question and eyed the diaper warily. He groaned, “Do I have a choice in this?” “Of course you have a choice,” Beckie stated as firm and resolute as a contract. “You can lay down on the bed like a good boy, or I can do it for you.” “That doesn’t sound like much of a choice to me.” “Well,” replied Beckie. “The choice is entirely yours, just like the decision to take the Cushioning test. You said ‘yes’ because you wanted to learn more about yourself, right?” “No.” He shook his head. “I took it so Layla would leave me alone.” “Oh, I think I hear your Maturosis again,” snarked Beckie. “You know you enjoy every bit of this kind of attention, that’s what the tantrum was about before bath time.” He turned to face the Big behind him. “What tantrum?” Beckie made a weird face and started acting over dramatically, he quickly figured it was the start of her best ‘Kay-Kay’ impression. She petulantly slammed a sandal into the carpet and released a screechy whine. “I’m potty trained, Big sis! I don’t go wee wee on myself! Uh-oh. I thinks I had an accidents! Now, I’m mad. This is all your fault for making me help with your homework. You cruelly made me wear cute pajamas and play games and snuggle up to your friend’s breasts — but I didn’t like a single bit of that, because I’m a big boy. But by the way, can you change my pull-up?” When she was done with mocking him, Beckie wore the strangest look on her face, this Amazon was way too proud of herself for such a bad impression. “I don’t sound anything like that,” he said glumly. “Sure, you don’t,” Beckie said with a wink. “Your denial is too cute, Kay.” Kaleb chewed on his lip and fumbled with the knot that kept his towel together. This was yet another one of their kind games. The Bigs were good at mind games, he knew that, but he had to keep reminding himself. Of course, this entire disaster could be blamed upon the Cushioning test, or his evil stepsister, or the fact he was born with this recessive gene. But that wasn’t what was on his mind at the moment: What if Beckie was right? What if he had Maturosis? What if this was all ‘his’ fault? That there was a ticking time bomb inside of him, an immature Little just trying to tear his way out. That his condition was just desserts for managing the obstacle course that was his life. Yikes. He didn’t like thinking so down on himself, but it was hard not to want to give up on everything. Beckie interrupted his pity-party to share a strangely optimistic perspective. “You still have a chance, you know.” “A chance?” His face squeezed tight. “Of what?” “A chance to prove that you don’t have Maturosis,” explained Beckie. “You’re not done with the Cushioning Test, so there’s still a chance that you won’t need any further intervention. I mean, your plateau might be higher than you think, it all depends on your social emotional levels, so your behavior will speak volumes.” He questioned the supposed good news, “Why are you telling me this? “Why do you still refuse to listen, Kay? This isn’t some cruel trick that’s designed to make you suffer. This experiment is entirely textbook based. Your care is entirely family based. We all want what’s best for you, and right now, what’s best for you is to lay down on that diaper and finish the test.” Kaleb sassed, “And if I don’t?” Beckie grabbed him by the arm and forced him to lock eyes. There was seriousness to this situation that he wasn’t taking into account. He didn’t fight her grip, even though it kinda hurt. “Your sister says that you always choose the hard way,” said Beckie, her lips were drawn tight. “This is one time that quitting isn’t an option. If you don’t finish the Cushioning test, it counts as a forfeit, and we have to report the results to Little Procurement. That puts you out of our hands. You know that they won’t handle your Maturosis with a delicate touch.” “Good point.” He was beginning to shake. Kaleb took a deep breath, and hesitated for a moment, trying to put everything back into perspective. How could he get free from this spot? Maybe he could dive through the window behind his bed like an action hero, make a break for it, bare-ass naked with the pink towel flowing behind him like a cape. The quick fantasy brought a smile to his face, unlike the reality that sat just before him. “Come on, turn around,” Beckie urged from behind him. “Let me help you. For once, do the easy thing and make it easier on yourself.” Why did the “easy way” always include infantilizing him? He rolled his eyes, and turned his head her way to snark a rebuttal, which was all she needed to take action. “We don’t have all day, and you’re not moving forward. So I’ll have to take care of you, once again.” On that note, Beckie spun him around and pushed him onto the changing mat. Kaleb fell onto the mat butt first, flailing for the entirety of the quarter-of-a-second fall. He tried to protect his towel skirt, but Beckie slapped his protesting hands away, grabbing the pink towel with both her hands, before ripping it free from his body and discarding it to the floor. “Hey, stop!” Kaleb sputtered as he reached for the pink towel. “I—“ But she didn’t stop. “I don’t know why you keep fighting this!” Beckie let out a rare glimpse of her frustration. The Amazon wrapped her strong hands around his ankles and yanked him onto the center of the mat. His lower half hung off the edge of the bed, while both his hands groped at the blanket for support. He was still helpless and grasping when Beckie picked up the folded disposable. With a loud *pop*, she opened the diaper. “This is an Escalated Detector-protector, one of the best for the Cushioning test.” Beckie held the diaper up for him to see its pale white underside, tracing the edge of the inner lining with her index finger. “It has sensors in its inner lining, measuring various states of the inner padding. This DP measures wetness, messy-ness, heartbeat and heat from arousal.” Kaleb grimaced. “Arousal?” His hands instinctively shot over his exposed parts between his thighs. They were too small to fully do the trick, but he did the best that he could. To hell with Beckie’s lesson on Maturosis and diaper anxiety. “Put the hands aside.” Beckie wasn’t impressed by his attempt to protect his modesty. “How many times do we have to go over this? This kind of obstinate behavior is exactly why you’re in trouble. You keep letting your ‘Little’ tendencies get the best of you.” Kaleb remained unmoved, cupping both palms over his smoothed skin, but something felt different. His willpower was so shot. His lips quivered as he began to crack, like his insides began to erode away, the fight left him one deep sigh at a time. “Your stubbornness certainly isn’t going helping your score,” Beckie derided him with a sing-song voice. “Quite the opposite, really. I’m getting tired of repeating myself: Slide your hands behind your head, so you won’t be tempted again.” He reluctantly did what he was asked, his short lived rebellion was much like holding his breath, he gasped for air when he pulled his hands away from his crotch. “Much better, Kay.” Beckie patted the side of his thighs with the disposable in her hand. “Now where was I? Oh yes. While all Littles like their diapers — Some Littles love them. Like, really love them. They find comfort in the padding, no more needing to rush to the potty, no more stress from battling their inner nature. They’re born that way, you know? Needing care, security, and a helping hand along the way. Littles also like the way a diaper feels on their baby parts, they love the friction, it makes them feel naughty.” His face tightened. “You mean they get off in them? Like how?” “Oh, sweetie!” Beckie clapped her hands together. “You’re so cute and naive sometimes. There are so many ways they ‘play with themselves’ in their diapers. Like, so-so-so many.” “You’d be surprised to how many pages are dedicated to the subject in our textbook,” continued Beckie. “Naughty Littles use vibrating toys, like rocking horses or magic wands, sometimes they ride crib pillows, or life sized stuffies — they rub their diapers on almost anything they can get their hands on. But you can’t fault a Little for being horny, especially if they ‘love’ their diapers. I don’t mind changing ‘stickies’ either, they don’t stink like messies.” ‘Stickies’? Really? Yeah. No. That word didn’t belong in his dictionary, he wanted to scrub that kind of diaper-talk from his memory. In a weekend of uncertainty, one thing was for certain, he would not make a ‘sticky’ in this diaper. That would remain an impossibility no matter what happened next. “I love your blush, Kay. It makes me want to gobble you up… but first, diaper time. Ankles to the sky, little guy.” Kaleb assumed the position. He’d done it before many times when he was younger, so folding his knees to his chest came like a second nature. The rest of his body followed, back straight, bottom up, legs spread, and eyes tightly closed — if could keep them shut forever, all of this nonsense would disappear. However, through experience, he knew that closing his eyes only heightened his senses. Especially his sense of touch. A cascade of tingles shot up his back and legs when his shaved bottom touched the edge of the oncoming diaper. The crinkling sound it made forced a shiver from head to toe. “I can tell that you’re nervous,” Beckie assured him with a kind voice. “You don’t have to be, I babysit all of the time, and I have the best grades in Little care. Well, besides your sister.” Her experience wasn’t what he was nervous about — far from it. Kaleb laid back onto the changing mat, which was somehow both cloth-like and plastic, hoping for any kind of escape. Unfortunately, there was no escape, that hope had skipped town somewhere around peeing himself and bath time. So he settled for draping his arm over his face, blinding him from reality, since he was unable to put up with it anymore. “Would it help if I sang to you?” Beckie used her shoulders to push his ankles higher in the air, making room for the teddy bear Detector-Protector. “I’ve read that singing diaper changing songs helps with the anxiety.” “Singing will only make it worse,” Kaleb answered from under his elbow. “Okay, cutie.” Beckie hummed softly to herself as she went to work between his legs. “Suit yourself.” The rustling diaper was now folded up over his crotch, its waistline reached almost to his belly button. All that was left was the Little proof tapes, then the waiting game would begin. Another epic battle between Kaleb and his bodily functions, like when he was back in elementary school. Just how long could he hold it this time? He’d set a few records before. “Oh, I almost forgot!” Beckie squealed as she re-unfolded the diaper. “I didn’t use any baby powder or baby lotion, silly me. I guess I just got too excited to do it right.” “Come on!” Kaleb groaned. “Just get it over with.” “Hold your horses, little guy. It’s just baby powder and lotion to protect your sensitive parts. Have you ever gotten a diaper rash?” He peered over his forearm. “Um… No.” “Good,” she said as she opened the bottle of baby oil to another loud *pop*. “It won’t happen on my watch. Nothing will hurt you, baby. Not while in my care.” The newly opened baby oil smelled different than the powder. Like super clean, like a nursery based disinfectant. It smelled like baby. It smelled like Little. It smelled like the rooms they’d take him to when he was a kid. It smelled like his past and his future at the same time. But it wasn’t the smell that concerned him, it was its feel on his body. Baby oil felt good on his boy parts, he knew that from frequent self-love experience. That, in combination of Beckie’s soft touch, visible ample bosom from her dipping shirt, and candy perfume smell, was a recipe for a penile ‘reaction’. What if he responded in a not-so babyish way? What would the wave readers say? Or the ‘arousal’ based heat detection, like some kind of boner patrol? What would Beckie say if he got horny halfway into a diaper, with Maturosis being the word of the day? He needed a distraction as she gingerly ‘lotioned’ her hands together. This was the same kind of skin-slicking lubricant he’d use to ‘let out some frustration’. Now, he’d have to resist its lure, he could not respond sexually; what would it say about him if he did? The embarrassment would almost be worse than wetting his pull-up. He gritted his teeth as Beckie made contact with his inner thighs, the baby oil made her hands so delightfully warm. She kept squirting and squirting more and more oil, and she kept touching and rubbing… So distraction, distraction. Kaleb started asking himself questions as he kept his forearm over his eyes. What were Littles? Were they babies? First things first, regular babies didn’t use their diapers as sex toys, so they couldn’t be babies. Not in a normal sense, like everyone was born a baby, but Littles got to revisit their early years — most of the time with a one way ticket. Sometimes, Kaleb hated Littles, so they totally deserved that ticket. This ‘baby thing’ was more their fault than his, if those Little guys and gals could keep it together, he wouldn’t be going through this crap. The Cushioning test wouldn’t exist, and neither would a recessive gene. But back to business. Questions. Distractions. So if Littles weren’t babies, why did Amazons insist that they were? Well, Kaleb couldn’t fully blame the Bigs for acting so ‘Big’. He’d seen Littles fully regressed before; in public, at school, in every day life. They were so little and childlike. They wore onesies and diapers and cute dresses. They sucked pacifiers, and peed and pooped their pants. They were very much like babies in almost every perceivable way. But were they ‘really’ babies? Maybe his stepsister’s textbook could shed some light on this matter. “There we go,” Beckie said as she wiped the remaining lotion along the crease of his bottom. “Let’s add some baby powder so you won’t chafe. For the sake of the Cushioning test, I have to ask: What are you feeling at this moment?” “You don’t really want to know,” Kaleb answered without giving away his blush. He wasn’t totally sure about his physical response to her touching, but it didn’t feel like he rose to the occasion. Thank goodness. “Actually, I would love to know what’s going on in your head. The wave readers aren’t the only things that collect data.” Beckie held the bottle of powder up, showing that she was ready to pour, but he’d have to answer her question first. Kaleb obliged her. “Um… I feel like, really embarrassed.” “Why?” He couldn’t believe he had to explain himself. “I’m naked!” “And why is that embarrassing?” Beckie guffawed. “Grown ups are naked in front of each other all of the time. But you aren’t like a grown up — are you, Kay?” Oh, the insinuation. He’d have to ignore it for now. “You’re putting me in a diaper!” Kaleb pulled his arm away from his face to meet Beckie above him. “How would I not be embarrassed?” “You’re just finishing a test,” Beckie said, followed by a nonchalant shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with finishing a test. Unless you’re afraid of what we’re going to find.” He glared up at the Amazon from between his raised legs. She was playing him, playing him just like Layla and Debbie, making a trap with her words so he’d get caught and put into a diaper. Wait a sec. Kaleb warned her, “Stop it, Beckie.” Beckie leaned over him so closely he almost choked her candy perfume, but he was still drinking it in like incense to his soul. “I will stop when I’m done.” Beckie worked her hands at the front of the diaper. “I’m not done until you’re freshly powdered and this diaper gets taped onto your cute tushie.” “So tape it already,” growled Kaleb. Beckie laughed like he told a joke. “Someone is in a hurry to get put in a diaper. Don’t worry, you’ve been so patient with me. We’re almost done, and then we can play in the living room.” She started shaking the canister of powder between his legs. The baby powder rained across his slick privates, intermingling with the baby oil, caking the skin protection solution to along his thighs, beneath his butt, all over his crotch, and even his bits were powdered. He smelled just like a Little, it was everywhere now, the smell. It would follow him wherever he went, and he knew it wouldn’t wash away in the bath like his body hair. His scent would attract Amazons like blood in the water, ping their sniffing sonar like a fresh and clean toddling submarine. “There we go, kiddo.” Beckie put aside the powder. “All that’s left is the tapes, and we’re good to go.” One tape went across his diaper, then the other followed, sealing him in the Escalated DP. And that was that. Kaleb was now in a diaper, Layla would be very pleased. So would dear old mom, his stepmom, the teachers throughout his life. Now, he was put in his place. Now, they could make the argument that he should’ve never been let out of them. Now, Beckie was going to leave him alone since she was done with the diapering. But Beckie didn’t leave him alone. “You look absolutely adorable,” she said as she bit her lower lip. Kaleb didn’t like the way she was looking at him. The diaper had transformed him into dessert, and she was going to dive into him head first. He needed out and fast. “Are we done?” he asked. “I’d like to..” “No!” Beckie snapped at him. “We still have one more thing. I need to see the fit… and something else.” Kaleb cautiously spread his legs, he didn’t like being alone with Beckie anymore — something strange was happening, spongy-strange, like the way it made people act. There was a lustful twinkle in her eyes, a sudden wonton flushness to her cheeks. Beckie pulled at the waistline of the DP, tugging it tighter to his crotch and butt. He recoiled from another crinkle as she scraped her nails across the thick padding along his crotch like she was tracing the invisible line of his wetness indicator than ran from ‘engine’ to ‘caboose’ between his thighs. When she was satisfied with his diapering, Beckie grinned a mischievous little grin. What was coming next was not going to be a good thing — he was sure of that. Kaleb tried to crab-walk away on his elbows from the oncoming Amazon, but it was no use. “What are you doing?” he asked to no answer. “Why are you smiling?” Beckie only lowered her head to his stomach, and before he could wiggle away from her clutches, the Amazon gave him a ridiculously loud raspberry with her tickle inducing mouth. Her lips vibrated against his smooth skin, making the sound of a runaway freight train ‘tooting’ full speed passing by the station. “Brrrrrmmm. Brrrmmm.” Kaleb managed a “Stop! Stop!” before he descended into a fit of giggles. He was ticklish, which wasn’t his fault, it’s like blaming him for having brown eyes or dark shaggy hair, it was something he was born into, just like a recessive gene. Beckie didn’t stop when he asked. She did it again. And again. All to the peals of his forced laughter. After a short break to catch her breath and watch him laugh himself silly, she again lowered herself for another bombing run, slobbering up his belly button without any remorse. Kaleb playfully kicked, twisted and turned, but her flittering lips always seemed to find the spot where he was most ticklish, which seemed to be everywhere with his newly hairless skin. He was still giggling uncontrollably when she held him tight at his hips, a spot where flesh met diaper just below the ribs. All at once, Beckie stopped blowing raspberries, but her devious grin grew in ‘deviation’. “I knew you’d enjoy that,” she said as she grabbed at the front of his diaper. “You keep acting like a diaper is the end of the world when it isn’t. Let me show you something else.” Kaleb tried to recover his breath. “What are you doing now?” “Just checking something,” Beckie drew out her answer. “Roll over, I need to see just how cute your bottom looks.” It took a tap at his thigh for him to follow her order. Kaleb rolled onto his tummy, careful not to crinkle too much, but it was too much like fighting a losing battle, this thick diaper was going to ‘sing’ with every move he made. Being on his stomach made the cushioning padding press right against his manhood, which wasn’t a bad feeling. When he’d gotten fully turned, Beckie grabbed him again by the hips, hoisting his padded butt into the air. He turned her way. “What are you..?” “Quiet,” Beckie shushed him with a finger to his lips. “I’m still checking the fit, so be good, and keep holding still. I want to make sure you don’t wiggle out of this thing.” Kaleb mumbled another protest from behind her pressed finger, but the words were in comprehensible, only the ‘mew’ing tone of yet another whiny complaint. He brought his butt back down, trying his best to passively resist. “Quit fighting. What do you think I’m going to do to you?” Beckie pulled again at his hips, putting him on all fours and sending his heinie up like an elevator. “Do you think I’m going to spank you or something? Should I spank you, Kay? Have you been a naughty boy in this bed, all alone when no one was looking?” His brown eyes shot wide. Yikes. Every teenage boy felt self-conscious about being called out as a masturbator, he was like every other young man his age, Amazon or not. Then there was the threat of a spanking. Suddenly, he was unsure whether to crawl away or stay put, he wasn’t actually thinking she was going to spank him until she said it — and he knew all about Amazon spankings, the first rule was that it was best to avoid them at all costs. Beckie soaked in his embarrassed silence like a sponge. There it was again. “No, I’m not going to spank you, silly goose. Since you’ve been Mr. Curious, asking 100 questions per minute, I thought I would show you something instead of just telling you what our textbook says. Is that okay with you? I promise it won’t hurt — it might actually feel good.” “I’m not so sure,” replied Kaleb. “You’re going to love this, trust me. Try not to enjoy yourself too much. It’s got to be tiring battling everything all of the time, you’re going to wear yourself out.” Without giving a chance to rebuttal, Beckie placed her left hand on his upper back, immobilizing him. Her right palm rested on his rump, gently pressing the padding against his bottom, forcing him tighter to the bed. Kaleb was faced down on the blanket, the cartoon animal changing mat wedged between his diaper and bedsheets. What happened next shouldn’t have shocked him, but it did. As he tried to figure out what was going on, Beckie began to rock his diaper against the bed, using her superior strength to pump his bottom against the bedding like he was giving it a good humping. Its effect was immediate. “How does that feel, huh?” Beckie purred as she pressed against his bottom harder. It felt like he was getting it on with his diaper. “I want out,” begged Kaleb, claustrophobia beginning to kick in. He didn’t like not being able to control his body. “No, you don’t,” she quickly corrected him. “You like this.” “I do not,” he argued. “Why are you..?” “It’s always good for some tummy-time,” explained Beckie. “It helps get those suffering from Maturosis acclimated to your detector-protector. Remember, it’s all about getting rid of that nasty anxiety.” “It isn’t working,” grumbled Kaleb as she forced him to dry hump the changing mat. “Trust me..” “Your Maturosis needs to be kept in check. Remember when you asked how Littles got off in their diapers? The most common way is during their tummy-time. Don’t worry, this is entirely research based, I’m modeling acceptable behavior matrixes. Ask Layla, this is an appropriate response to Maturosis. You just need to think about staying on your tummy, and I’ll do the rest.” Kaleb was thinking about anything and everything that was not his tummy. The soft inner padding slid up and down his baby oil covered slickness, and well, it felt too good to be good. Way too good. He fought a soft moan as it made contact against the inside of his diaper. Was she doing what he right she was doing? Was she making him get off? Did she want him to make a ‘stickies’ just so that she could change him again? “Don’t fight your inner feelings,” Beckie urged him on as she pumped him up and down faster. “If it feels good, let it feel good.” Kaleb groaned as he tried to escape by slithering away. “I don’t want to feel good!” “I should have brought a pacifier,” Beckie said as wrapped her hand over his mouth, effectively shushing him. “You’re doing it all wrong. Here, let me help you get out some of that anxiety.” The Amazon climbed up on the bed behind him, pressing her breasts into his back, using the dipping motions of her hips to force the friction in his diaper. He was now on the receiving end of a doggie style. “It’s all about the hips, Kay. Follow my rhythm. Pump them up and down, do what feels natural. It’s just like dancing or walking, what you’re doing is perfectly normal.” Kaleb would have begged to disagree, but his mouth was covered by her giant hand. Beckie gently rode him into the bed from behind, rolling and rocking herself, increasing the speed of her thrusting hips. Slowly at first, but soon she was moving faster and faster. Fast enough that the slickness in his diaper was too much to ignore. His diaper ‘sang’ with every push and thrust, with every grunt from him and her, he tried to fight it but there was tension building inside of him — he was already getting hard with no end in sight. “Shhh, quiet baby.” Her labored breathing was panting and hot, her voice suddenly husky and wanting. “Just take the easy way for once, quit all that fighting, and enjoy your diaper.” Diapers. Why did it always have to be about diapers?

Yeah, the Empathy Center and crazy mom plot line is from your suggestions. They’ll be back in the story, trust me. Maturosis is as real as it’s allowed to be. It’s in the Amazon textbooks after all. No self-destruction for Kay. He’s a survivor. He’s been through this kind of thing before, and he’ll get out on the other side. At least he thinks he will. Who knows? The Amazons could be right about this Betweener. Maybe he’s a little more like a Little than a Big, and if he’s struggling at school and relationships, maybe he’s been in the wrong place. —— Okay. Sorry for the long wait, life sometimes gets in the way of writing. About Maturosis: I consider this work “fan fiction” on the term. I add my own thoughts to this borrowed terminology, which may not be the same as in other works. Thanks for reading! And thanks for questions and comments! ….. 9 “So… let me get this straight… my brain thinks that I’m a baby?” Despite just peeing his pants, Kaleb felt a wry smile spread across his lips, his innate cynicism was all he had left in this place of madness. “That’s ridiculous,” he made his case to the two Amazons. “100%, totally, ridiculous.” Layla returned his smile like a boomerang, albeit hers was a bit more cruel. “Almost as ridiculous as an eighteen year old who can’t get to the potty on time.” Oh, sweet stepsis was going to use this against him for a very long time, Kaleb was sure of that. He stood awkwardly in the hall as the wetness at his crotch began cool. As the two Amazons waited for him to finish asking questions before they got on with ‘babying’ him, but he wasn’t finished yet. “I would have made it to the ‘toilet’ if I wasn’t being chased,” he corrected his stepsister. “If I wasn’t forced to hold it forever. If I wasn’t trapped in little-locked footie pajamas. I wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if I didn’t agree to this ridiculous test in the first place.” “You didn’t have to hold it forever,” replied Layla. “You only had to hold it for a little bit, even toddlers can hold it for a little bit. Besides, we wanted to help you get to the potty, remember. Unfortunately, potty problems are a big part of Maturosis, so you can’t be too mad at yourself.” “I’m not mad at myself,” he snapped. “I’m mad at you.” Layla glared at him, his stepsister was losing her usual patience. “Alright, Kay-Kay. I’m going to pretend that’s your condition talking, so I won’t recommend starting punishment phase one of the cushioning test. I believe it comes with a “Quiet Time” pacifier, it really has a way of keeping sassy mouths shut.” “Come on!” Kaleb raised his hands in the name of self-defense. “I’m just trying to learn more about my condition. It’s called Maturosis, right? Like from the Cushioning test and your textbook?” “That about sums it up,” replied Layla, she was ready to move onto bigger and better things. “Any more questions?” Kaleb folded his arms across his chest, unmoved. “Can Amazons get Maturosis?” Beckie answered this time. “No, that’s impossible.” He asked, “Why?” “It’s very simple,” answered Layla. “Our neuroscience is different, but you’re too Little to understand the differences, so I’m not going to waste our time teaching you. Besides, you’re in serious need of a bath — and something better in terms of protection.” Kaleb remained unconvinced, and since a forced diapering seemed to be on the horizon, he felt whatever fight still within him bubble up again. “That’s way too convenient to be believable. You’ve always wanted to treat me like a baby, ever since our parents married. Now, I’ve suddenly got some invisible mental disease with symptoms straight from your textbook, and the only solutions have been your designs on me from day one.” Beckie sighed. “You’re paranoid, Kay.” Unable to say it any better, Layla offered him a cheeky smirk before turning her attention from her stepbrother to her lab assistant. “Beckie, I’m going to leave you to give him his bath. I’ll set up everything you need afterwards in his room. There will be an Escalated detector-protector as well as some new clothes more fitting the social emotional level. We need more data on his ideal wardrobe level, maybe that will slow the descent. Try to remember that the test isn’t over so we’re still following protocol.” Her friend winked back. “Got it, chief.” Now that his objections had been rejected, Beckie gripped him by his forearm and began to drag him the short trip towards the bathroom. The cheerleader was strong enough to take him anywhere she wanted, but he was still trying to be ‘unmoved’. Kaleb dug his monkey feet into the carpet and turned to see his stepsister enter his bedroom. He may have been mistaken, but he thought he saw her pull a very diaper-y looking folded disposable from the diaper bag. “Hey, wait…” Kaleb began to panic. “This is way too convenient!” He anchored himself the best that he could, turning and twisting towards his bedroom, trying to see what his stepsister was doing. “Too convenient!” he yelled again over his shoulder. “Come up with something better at least! Something believable!” “Okay…” Beckie repositioned herself in front of him. “I didn’t want to do this… but you’ve left me no choice.” In a flash, Beckie dropped to one knee and snaked both of her arms around his legs, tackling him at the waist. The Amazon dipped her body as she made contact, her shoulders pressed into his belly, prying him up from the floor, and lifting him up over her shoulder in one continuous motion. “Help! Ahhh! Stop!” Kaleb yelled at the top of his lungs as he rose from the ground, kicking and screaming. “Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!” “Alright, you little stinker,” Beckie said as she fought his flailing attempts to escape. “We got to take a bath and take off that yucky pull-up. So what do you say, soggy britches?” He growled at her, “I’d say that you should put me down.” Kaleb pushed at her with both hands, but she was far too strong for him. Beckie booped his nose with her own, almost like cute kiss without involving the lips. She wiggled her finger in front of his face as she taunted him. “No can do, baby,” Beckie said softly. When they entered the bathroom, Beckie placed a scowling Kaleb atop the sink counter, and left him there to watch, as she closed the door to the hall and turned the knobs to the Amazon sized bathtub. Soon the air was filled with rising steam and the shrill whistling of hot water leaving the tap. The bathroom was mostly white with tiny square tiles for flooring, the wallpaper was blend of sunflowers, and other kinds of various flowers, mixed with the occasional bee or butterfly. The decor was old and came with the house, but no one took the time to upgrade the kid's space. Neither Kaleb or Layla complained about the amenities, the huge bathtub on the far wall worked perfectly for the two of them. The small room was the perfect spot for a waiting game. Beckie used the time to catch her breath, so Kaleb did the same. The moment was like a break between rounds of a boxing match, so far Kaleb seemed to be losing, but he hadn’t had a ten count yet. Or that’s what he told himself. He kept a one close eye on the Amazon, the other darting between the tub and the door, just waiting for what would happen next. The tiny room felt emptier than usual. Colder among the tiles, darker in every corner; and all the while, the warm water in the tub rose higher and higher. When it got high enough, Beckie turned the knob again, and checked the temperature with her hand. Then she smiled. “Let’s get you out of those icky boy pajamas and get you nice, and fresh, and clean.” Kaleb thought about irony as she undressed him. He passively resisted the whole way like he always did. Kaleb arched his back, repeatedly told her to ‘stop’, and extended both hands and feet like an octopus with rigor mortis. Of course, he recognized the silliness of all the charade, he was going to be naked whether he wanted to be or not. Just five minutes ago, as he blissfully sat on Beckie’s ample lap doing two tests at the same time, he would have done anything to get out the monkey footsie. Now, he was doing his ‘darnedest’ to keep the pajamas on his body. That’s Irony with a capital ‘I’. The way she worked him out of his clothing was almost impressive, if it wasn’t so scary. Beckie flipped him around and unzipped the researched based pajamas, then she freed his arms and yanked out his legs. One hand wrapped tightly around his wrist so he couldn’t escape, while the other shot straight for the waistline of his soggy DP. “Wow…” she said as she thumbed at the padding of the choo-choo pull-up. “You really soaked this thing, Kay.” And before he could say - ‘No, don’t’, she had ripped them free from his hips. Now that its job was done, the day one detector-protector was wrapped into a thick wet ball, and deposited inside the small trash can that hid behind the toilet. Kaleb was now naked. And in front of a girl. His bare chest was red from exertion and shame, same with his face, every part of him flushed. A full body blush blossomed as Beckie eyed him up and down. The happy-go-lucky Amazon cheerleader let her gaze do the talking, more like walking, as she took her time giving him a go-over. Kaleb was a bit self-conscious of her roaming eyes, where they lingered, where they circled the slight curves of his body. Beckie chided him, “Did you know that covering nakedness is a sign of Maturosis?” He looked down at the his hands cupped over his most private of places, still unmoved. Kaleb glowered at the Amazon. “It would be, wouldn’t it?” Beckie toyed with the small canvas bag that was the same color as the other Cushioning test bag, a mix of shale grey and shame. Kaleb assumed it was for his bath, and he was right. She opened the zipper and pulled free three different bottles of shampoo and liquid soap, all childish, all claiming to be tear free, all colorful and plastic. “You don’t have to believe me,” Beckie said with a shrug. “The behavior has something to do with potty anxiety and the inability to cope with a diapered state. We haven’t got to that part in class yet, but I like to read ahead like Layla.” “I don’t care what your textbook says,” he said, then he twisted his body away from her prying eyes. “Well, you should.” Beckie silently read the backs of a few the bottles, and began lining them up alongside the tub. “It may be able to tell you things about yourself. If I happened to be in trouble, or had a condition, I’d like to know what was going to happen to me.” She paused for effect. “But that’s just me.” Despite his mental objections, and there were plenty, Beckie made a decent point. If this Maturosis was going to be used against him, he would do himself a favor by learning its ‘ins and outs’. “Fine… fine… tell me how wrong I was born,” he said with a huff. “Make sure to leave in the good parts so I know just how messed up I am. It will be a perfect cherry on a sundae kind of day.” “You’re something special, Kaleb, you really are,” Beckie chuckled as she finished prepping her washing station. “You literally have a cheerleader wanting to see you naked, and you keep covering yourself up. You have no idea how many boys send pictures of their things to me — unsolicited, I might add.” Kaleb swallowed hard, his usual bashful nature presented itself within the palpitations of his heart, he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation at this moment. “I didn’t think that I was your ‘dating type’. I’m a Betweener, remember? I’m smaller than your average boyfriend.” “Well…” Beckie drew out her words, then dipped her delicate fingers into the warm tub. “How could I see you as dating material if you don’t even see yourself that way?” “I’m going to need an explanation,” Kaleb said as he felt the cold room seep into him. “I’ll give you one,” Beckie said as she flicked warm water onto his bare chest. “But first, I’m going to need cooperation. Remove the hands, then get in the bath, and we can talk.” Talk? All they did was talk. He was naked, and cold, and shivering. The world around him was topsy-turvy, as if the globe decided to spin at twice the speed and in the opposite direction, and all she wanted to do was talk. To make things worse, Beckie’s eyes kept glancing at spots they shouldn’t glance at, forcing him to hide himself with both hands. This was a bad place to be, and Kaleb had no clue how to get out. He looked back at her with wide eyes, still unmoved. “Remove the hands, Kay,” Beckie ordered with a soft voice. “Just leave them by your side, there’s no shame in being naked — that’s your Maturosis lying to you.” Surprisingly, he did what he was told. Maybe it was the mentioning of that Maturosis word. He brought his shaking hands from his crotch, bringing them to his hips with fists clenched, but he still refused to meet eyes with Beckie. Especially since she ogled his naked body like he was an unwrapped present just ready to be re-wrapped in thicker underwear. What exactly did she see in him? Kaleb was a mostly skinny Tweener. Not broad chested and square shouldered like his Big father. He was lean but not lanky, short but not a Little, more feminine and delicate than masculine and strong; but he kept his girly aspects hidden by being dirty and grimy, with baggy jeans and black t-shirts and an ‘unstyled’ mop of dark hair that just sat on his head. Speaking of hair, he had some body hair in the usual places. Unlike the Littles, they tended to be hairless around the diaper parts, almost as if they were bred that way. At least that’s how he saw them when they were changed in public, he had tried not to look or stare, it was sorta rude after all. But as they lay legs spread during a diaper change, skirt lifted up or pants pulled down, it was hard not to sneak a glance. As for Kaleb, there were thick patches of dark curls beneath his arms, at his crotch, a small path traveling to his navel, and a smattering at the butt crack. Not much hairiness on his chest, however. Which was fine, because a hairy chest was very out of fashion and had been for awhile. And Beckie saw every bit of everything. “I don’t think I like the body hair,” concluded the pixie cheerleader. “It’s kinda yucky, but everything else is nice. Very nice. Hop in the tub.” Kaleb felt his mouth dry. “But…” “No buts!” Beckie giggled and brought out a large empty plastic cup. “No buts except your cute butt in the bathtub.” For some reason he complied, maybe he was just tired of fighting, maybe he was ready for it all to end. Maybe it could all be blamed on the invisible sponge. Either way, Kaleb found himself moving as if driven by someone else. He lifted one leg into the tub, then the other, then he plopped his butt right into the waist deep water. The hot bath felt nice, he was still shivering, just not as much as as before. At least Beckie appeared pleased with his cooperation, even while he sat cross-cross applesauce with a permanent frown on his face. “We will do your hair first,” she said as she prepared one of the bottles, “then we will do a nice body wash. I think you’ll like the soft scrubbing, everyone loves being pampered.” “Okay…” Kaleb’s voice sounded tired and gravelly, a reflection of his rough night and rougher morning. “You said that you’d explain things to me?” Beckie grimly nodded as she dunked the large plastic cup into the bath and brought it out to the sound of slushing water. “Yes, but first, lift your head back for me, and stare at the ceiling — cup.” The sudden rush of water over his head was quite the experience. Strangely both hot and cold, comforting and exciting, dreadful and demeaning, all at once. Kaleb was panting from the experience, bathwater dripped from his longer hair and nose, and he shook his head like a dog as he recovered. “Alright, Kaleb… let’s answer some of your questions,” Beckie said as she reloaded her dumping cup. “Maturosis manifests itself in different ways. It can be gradual, it can be immediate, it can be inherited, and it can be adopted. Cup.” Another hot flash of warm water rocked over him, long strands of his hair ‘plastered’ over his eyes, he raked them free as he choked upon the bathwater that got into his mouth. Beckie scolded him, “I told you to lift your head back. Cup.” Another pour came, he quickly lifted his chin skyward, and this time the water cascaded down the back of his neck. “You know what a downward spiral is, Kay?” Kaleb nodded, trickles and droplets ran down his face. “That’s Maturosis — a process that takes Littles, and sometimes recessive Betweeners, backwards in time. Not physically, of course. Mentally. A mental downward spiral that can also be called Regression. Cup.” Water kept coming, but he kept focused on her words. “So, Maturosis is a downward spiral,” Beckie continued to explain as she put aside her plastic cup. “And a social-emotional level is a flat line between proper behavior at an appropriate age. When it’s aligned against a diagnosis of Maturosis, it represents a kind of strata similar to a plateau.” “I’m not good at geography,” Kaleb muttered, then licked a few droplets from his lips. Beckie giggled. “You don’t have to be — you’re good at being cute.” The way she smiled at him gave him butterflies despite all of this ‘downward spiral’ topic of conversation. “Maturosis isn’t like other conditions, there are countless nuances, and each case may be different than the next. There are so many reasons for Littles to end up back in diapers. You see, Kay, that’s the problem: You’re fifty-percent Little. Like it or not, it’s important that you learn to control your Little emotions, your childish tendencies, your potty habits. Otherwise, you’re going to end up in their same kind of trouble. That’s the first step in understanding how a social emotional levels work, recognizing your problematic Little-side.” For the first time in a long time, Kaleb paid attention to her textbook talk, mostly because it sounded super important. It was brain science like with the Beta-Alpha-Beta-Upsilon wave readers, it was inside of him like an imaginary canoe ride, it was an explanation for the invisible magic sponge of potential energy. He closed his eyes to bring it all into focus. Thinking about Maturosis was like navigating a maze inside his head. Every time he thought he could find a way out, he found himself surrounded by logical walls. “I still have some questions…” Kaleb said as he heard the patented ‘squirt, squirt’ from the shampoo bottle. Beckie rubbed her hands together, making them all foamy. “Shoot, baby.” With the water finally free from his red eyes, Kaleb looked deep into Beckie, he really needed to know something, so it was time to ask. “Is Maturosis even real?” “Of course it is,” Beckie answered with a beaming smile. “It’s in our textbook.” “I mean,” he said as he watched her closely. “Outside of your text book, in the real world, the place where I live.” “You know what,” she said as her foamy hands reached for the top of his head. “You do way too much thinking. Thinking leads to worrying. Let others do the thinking for you.” Kaleb opened his mouth to object, but her hands were already in his hair. As soon as she made contact, things began to change. Her fingers gently pushed the bad thoughts from his brain and made the walls melt away. Beckie had total control over him; he was a puppet, and those soul-touching scrubbers were the strings. “That’s it, Kay,” Beckie encouraged him with a soft voice. “Try to relax baby, it’s time for you to be pampered. Everyone loves being pampered, and not just Littles.” Her soft touch paralyzed him, but in a good way. The delightful experience sucked whatever argument, or question, or logical reasoning, out of his head via her curling fingers. As she spread the tear-free shampoo across his scalp, Beckie made sure to scratch and massage every bit of his sensitive head. This kind of pampering was sublime, and every bit as intoxicating as her candy perfume. All he could say was, “Ohhhh…” Which made Beckie giggle. “I knew you’d like this, Kay. Stop thinking, start feeling. See where that takes you.” Suddenly, he was transported back in that canoe, this time surrounded by real water. He soaked in the gentle lapping sounds of the lake, he closed his eyes and let the daydream take him deeper, like a psychological cushioning whirlpool that dragged him to relaxing depths he’d never experienced before. The liquid soap smelled like lavender and inner peace, popping pink bubbles rose to the surface of the tub. Next to him, a short-haired mermaid appeared, half-dipped in the water. She was naked except for a pair of sea shells that covered her bountiful breasts, her skin shimmering pale, her eyes dancing radiant. She slowly moved him onto his back, where he floated with ease, uncaring about his nakedness on display. The mermaid rubbed liquid soap on his arms, and legs, running her fingers like a pair of rakes over his chest. Every word from her mouth came out as a soft coo, or gentle encouragement. He was doing so good — the mermaid told him so. “That’s so good, baby.” “Stay still while I clean you up.” “You’re so precious when you’re like this.” Beckie paid extra close attention to his diaper area, soaping up his inner thighs, especially lathering up his special spot between his legs. With a cupped hand, she made sure he was extra clean down there, and Kaleb responded accordingly. Being extra clean felt really, really nice. Then she turned him over, and he was on his hands and knees, almost in a position to crawl away. But he didn’t want to move a muscle, he was drawn tight into this bath like it was a magnet. A natural attraction that lulled him deeper and deeper into sensations altogether too relaxing, or too disarming, and he didn’t even care. Beckie lathered up a pair of fingers and traced them down his spine, sliding them along his exposed bottom. It tickled, in a good way of course. “We need to make sure you’re extra clean back here,” she giggled as she rubbed. Who was he to argue with her? Every spot that she touched made him feel so sensitive. His skin was on fire, not a burning, but delightful, sensational feeling-explosion. The combination of her delicate touch, and the perfect temp water, had his eyes rolling in the back of his head. This bath thing was amazing, the experience was enough to make him forget about everything: the experiment, his stepsister, the fact that he’d just peed his pants minutes before. This relaxing bath was just what he needed, and he strangely felt disappointed when the plastic cup remade its appearance as Beckie finished washing his hair. “Cup. There we go, baby. Again, cup. Now you’re all nice and clean. Was that worth all of the fuss?” Kaleb gently shook his head, his eyes still tightly closed. “It felt nice, actually.” “See what I mean?” Beckie said as she prepped a towel with one hand and pulled him to his feet with the other. “It’s not so bad having someone take care of you, is it?” “No…” Kaleb grimaced as he came to the same conclusion. “It’s not that bad.” The soft pink towel she wrapped around him was one of Layla’s, and it dwarfed him just like his dad’s big chair. He opened his eyes to his surroundings, unsure how long he was in the bath, unsure about a lot of things that had just happened. The bathroom looked the same, boring and poorly decorated. Beckie looked the same, smiling from ear to ear, and judging from her giddiness, barely containing her patented wide-eyed ‘cute aggression’. Kaleb looked down at his own body, which did not look the same, because something felt off, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on the difference. He studied his arms and his chest as Beckie gave him a nice and soft towel scrub. He still couldn’t figure it out. Did he shrink? No. He was the same size, unless the room shrank with him. Kaleb still had two arms and two legs, a pair of blinking, working eyes, and he could wiggle all ten fingers and curl all ten toes. So what made him feel so weird? His question was answered when Beckie pulled the towel away from his exposed front, and with one look down at his special place, he immediately spotted the difference. Kaleb gasped. “What happened to my hair?” Beckie kept rubbing the terry cloth towel in circles at his lower back. “What was that?” “My hair!” he stared at the horror show hanging limp between his legs, frozen from the shock. “Oh that! I styled it with some conditioner,” Beckie began humming, working the towel along his backside. “It was just a nasty mop on top of your head, so I made it look nice and clean, just like this cute, wittle shiny heinie.” “Not the hair up there,” Kaleb indicated towards his bare crotch. “The hair down here! My arms! My legs! I look like a Little!” Beckie clicked her lips, mocking him with a pushy lipped pout. “Quit your complaining, sour-puss. It was all yucky from your pee-pee accident. You don’t get to wet your pants and call the shots, mister.” Beckie thumbed at his nose as he glared at her. “Plus, I think it looks much better this way. You clean up real nice, Kay.” “Is this permanent?” he had to ask. “You can’t just do this to people without telling them.” “I’m not exactly sure,” answered Beckie. “I think it says something about lasting for a month or so on the bottle. I don’t know what you’re upset about, I told you ‘it’ looks better this way.” Kaleb ignored her wonton smile and covered himself with his right hand. He didn’t care if it was ‘yucky from pee-pee’. His left hand shot behind him to check the damage, tracing along his crack with a tentative finger. It was the same story back there, his butt was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. All the while, his Amazon companion watched every move with happy curiosity. “That’s so your bottom won’t be yucky from poo-poos,” explained Beckie. “You’ll thank me later, trust me.” This wasn’t happening. Kaleb’s mouth was having a hard time getting out his words. His brain was grasping for understanding, but it all slipped between his fingers like many bits of confusing sand. “No! I’m not going to thank you later,” he raised his voice. “Because I don’t do ‘poo-poos’ on myself!” Yeah, he even felt childish having to make the clarifying statement, but that kind of insinuation required quick addressing. “Not right now you don’t, but that can change in a heartbeat.” Beckie ruffled the towel across his hair and his ears and neck, ignoring his scowl the entire way. “Just yesterday you weren’t wetting your pants, either. Maturosis can be rapidly on-setting, and it’s best to be prepared. We will talk more about this in your room.” He slapped a palm to his forehead, this was all so freaking useless. Kaleb knew just what was waiting for him in his room: the altogether-too-convenient disposable diaper. Still, he had to pick his battles, and this was one he had to fight at the moment. Something about losing his body hair that was yet another step to far, he had to find a way to stick this weekend in reverse. His temples thundered as he managed to squeak, “Put it back!” “Put what back?” she echoed, she brought the towel across his face before he shrugged it away. “My body hair,” he said as his voice shook. “Give me back my hair! I want it back!” The cheerleader chuckled. “I don’t think it works that way, sweetie.” “You took it from me!” he howled right in the Amazon’s ear. “This tantrum is going to get you nowhere, Kay. This kind of childishness is exactly what your wave readers are for, I bet you’re dropping a social emotional level at this very moment. Don’t let your Maturosis get the best of you.” It was no use. No point. No nothing. He gritted his teeth and rocked in place, there was nothing he could do, nothing he could come up with. There was no answer to so much insinuation. When she was done drying him, Beckie wrapped the pink towel around his waist like a skirt. She then put both her hands on his shoulders and marched him to the mirror over the basin. As she ran her hands through the black hair atop his head, she told him about the special conditioner, how his hair now had volume and it was ‘feathery’. She explained that the formula protected his hair from the other Little bath products, that if she didn’t do it right he could’ve been as bald as a baby. She did all of that without noticing the terror in his eyes. Kaleb eyed his reflection, his hair no longer a ‘mop’, appearing more pulled back and longer, somewhat like a male model from a barber’s catalog. He looked younger, brighter, like an improved version of himself; but at what cost? He evaluated his sensitive hairless arms one at a time, it made his entire body feel different, like even the air made his skin tickle. Kaleb turned towards the loudly draining bathtub where he expected to see the run off of his curly black body hairs, but there was nothing, no proof of him having body hair at all. Poof, gone, more Amazon magic. Beckie beamed at him. “What do you think?” “I don’t know…” he closed his eyes unable to take in anymore. “I was told not to think…” “Good boy.” Beckie planted a kiss on his cheek as she got out a hairbrush. “Now let’s get you all handsome, then we can get you padded and dressed. There’s so much more Cushioning test to do.” Things were only going to get worse from here.

Real fast. Thanks for the comments and feedback, I used them to rewrite this chapter, and it’s way better now. I’ll let the chapter try to answer questions, rather than me, this time around. Thanks for reading! ……… Recessive 8 His stepsister’s arrival was something of a mood killer, which wasn't a bad thing, since the mood was a little too ‘insinuating’ for comfort’s sake. Without a word, Beckie slowly removed Kaleb from her lap, and he stood up on the play mat, his face burning hot from being caught in this 'intimate moment'. His *excited* reaction to Beckie’s diaper check was fresh on his mind, adding to the shame. What was that even all about? He'd have to ask himself some tough questions later. Kaleb didn't get a chance to see if Beckie was blushing as well, since his eyes never left Layla, who was fuming so hard that smoke was coming out her ears. The small living room sat still and quiet, as everyone tried to come to grips with their mistakes. Beckie muttered a quiet “I’m sorry” while Kaleb just stared down at his monkey feet. He didn’t like Beckie as much as he did a few minutes ago, but now that his stepsister was here, he desperately wished they were alone again. Sometimes, his feelings were confusing, that's what led to moments like this. Layla approached the two of them like a drill sergeant ready to tear a ‘new one’ into a stupid recruit. “A second bottle feeding wasn’t a part of our research,” Layla snapped at her friend. “Didn’t I tell you to stick with the script?” “I know, I know.” Beckie folded her hands together. "I'm so, so sorry, Layla.” "I bet you are!” Layla stretched her golden hair behind her head to retie her tight ponytail. “I'm so frustrated right now — screwing up the experiment is the last thing I need.” Beckie winced. “Did you at least find Callie?” “No — We didn’t,” answered Layla. “We still don't have a clue what happened to her. I don’t know how she undid the playpen’s latch. I knew that the old pen was falling apart, but there’s still no way— Everything was locked! I checked it myself!” "Don't blame yourself for what Littles do," Beckie reminded her friend. "It says so in our textbook. Their behavior, even while in our care, is their own." His stepsister returned a shrug at having her text book talk used against her. "Of course I know that,” snapped Layla. “That doesn’t stop my mom from going nuts. I mean, she’s bought a ticket to crazy town. You should’ve heard what she was saying to Charlotte.” “What did she say?” asked Beckie. “My mom is threatening to send Charlotte to an Empathy center. She keeps saying scary things about learning about Littles the hard way. Crazy stuff, like we need to learn like babies to take care of babies — she’s out of her mind.” Layla cleared her throat, wearing a startling look of concern for her friend. Charlotte was stuck with their mom, from the looks of it. “Debbie wouldn’t do that,” Beckie insisted as she shook her head. “Not to Charlotte.” “Until today, I’d said the same.” Layla paced back and forth, uncharacteristically frazzled, confused, and overwhelmed. “This whole ‘perfect maternal’ role is getting to her head. First, there was the stupid apron, then she cleaned Kay-Kay’s room, and did his laundry. The Cushioning instructions turned her into a mom-machine that’s out of control.” So that was what was on the little paper that Debbie read to make her act so different. Interesting. “Too many strange things are happening at the same time — there’s my mom going crazy, and there’s Callie’s disappearance,” continued Layla. “Like, why use the window and not the front door?" “The window?” Kaleb joined the conversation midstroke. "This is the first I've heard about a window." “Yeah, the window behind the couch was wide open when we woke up this morning,” Layla glared at her stepbrother. “How else would she have gotten out? Someone opened the playpen and the window, and kidnapped Charlotte’s baby, or just forced her out all alone.” He glanced over to the trio of cheap and simple windows, each divided into fours with white painted panes, and each could be opened by a heavy brass handle at their base. Kaleb had never even opened them in all the years of living in this house. In a sick way, the ‘window escape’ was good news. Kaleb had nothing to do with the window, which meant he wasn’t entirely at fault for the missing Little. “Maybe she got away on her own,” offered Kaleb. Layla stared deep into him. “I’m not that stupid, Kaleb.” Beckie bit at her lip. “How’s Charlotte taking it?” “How do you think?” answered Layla, then her ire returned to her stepbrother, her sharp eyes trying to discern something. “Why haven’t you given Kay-Kay a bath?” Layla asked sharply. “I gave that job to you so I wouldn’t have to touch him while he’s naked. I have no data on the soothing scrub axis, soft water buoyancy ratio, or anything on a good towel dry. What have you two been doing all morning? Playing games?” “Kinda…” Beckie ‘meeped’ as she shrugged her shoulders. “I was going to ease him into the bath, like the instructions…” “I know what the instructions say, Beckie. It was your job to transition him from step one to two, and you’re not doing it. His reaction, whatever it is, is the data. It’s all in the textbook. I don’t know what your problem is, just give Kay-Kay his freaking bath like you’re told.” “Wait a sec…” Kaleb looked to both of the Amazons. “You’re not actually giving me a bath where I’m naked and stuff. Right?” The Amazons only exchanged a knowing look, that invisible sponge seemed to light up their devious faces. Beckie and Layla had transformed in front of him, from friendly to dangerously friendly, and Kaleb suddenly became aware that he was alone with them. No Debbie to rescue him. He squeezed his legs together in fear, his pull-up felt tighter and more restrictive, and his need to ‘go’ was stronger than ever. Kaleb repeated in case they didn’t hear. "Right?" He looked from one Amazon to the other, and they only smiled back at him. Neither corrected him, so he asked again. "Riiight?" No one was saying 'right' with him. Bad sign. Beckie lowered herself into half a crouch in order to be eye level, using her Big hand to remove the baby bottle from the equation. There was a new game to play with “Kay-Kay”. “Actually, Kay, that’s exactly what we’re going to do next. It’s bath time, baby.” ——— Kaleb knew he was being backed into a bathtub. He knew that. As soon as he realized that the girls were ‘serious’ about giving him a bath, he made a break for it. He tumbled out of their reach, and scrambled across the foam play mat and onto the beige carpet. He didn't even sneak a peek back before taking off down the one-way hall with no exits, in the same direction as the bathtub. So he knew he was being stupid. Panic does that to a dude. However, he also knew that there was no other feasible way to keep away from Beckie. The only way out of this trap was on the other side of the advancing Amazon. Unfortunately for him, Beckie spread her arms and legs like a Little-snatching windmill. There was no getting past her without said ‘snatching’, so he gradually retreated, one backward step at a time, towards the waiting bathroom at the dead end of the hallway. “Kay! Come on!” Beckie chided him as she approached with both innocent hands raised palms up. “Quit being such a baby about this. It’s only a bath, it’s a part of your test, and you’re overreacting.” He cried out, “You’re the one who’s overreacting!” It sounded childish. This whole thing was childish. At best, he was just throwing back what they said to him. What else was he going to do? Give up and let them strip him naked? Not a chance. That was half the battle with the Bigs — the undressing — but it was their method of ‘redressing’ that gave him even more concern. As he moved back, Kaleb was careful not to be within arm’s reach, which was hard to do in the limited space provided. Maybe he could talk them both down, Beckie took the lead while Layla followed behind, as smug as smug could get. “You guys are out of control,” Kaleb said as he tried to calm their overly-maternal instincts. “You’re trying to treat me like a… like a Little — or a kid, like a little kid. I don’t need you to give me a bath, I can manage it myself, if you’d just back off and give me a chance for once.” Layla dismissed the notion with a shake of her head. “That’s not what we need, Kay-Kay. There are data points, and measurements, and we can’t move on to bigger, better things without getting those numbers. We’re not trying to be the bad guys here, this is the test you agreed to.” He shook his head. “I didn’t agree to this!” “Come on, Kay-Kay, you stink. When’s the last time someone gave you a good wash?” Uh-oh. The word ‘stink’ triggered something inside of Beckie, because she was moving faster now, her fingers curled into talons as she prepared to strike. “See, Kay?” Beckie pushed her luck with a quick step. “You DO need a bath, you little stinker. Just let us do our research, no big deal. You’re making it worse for yourself by acting this way. You’re not going to like it when I catch up to you…” “I don’t like you right now!” Kaleb argued as he braced himself for a swipe at his clothing. “So back away, leave me alone, and we can forget that this ever happened.” This wasn’t going to end well. Each step was bringing the two of them closer to the room at the end of the hallway. A room that, until just recently, where Kaleb got to potty, and he so needed that potty. Now, it was a room that represented the end of a line. Just seeing the toilet sitting alone made his bladder feel tight, he’d been doing his best to ignore it all morning. “Come on, Kay.” Beckie knew she had him cornered, so she moved methodically and precise. “You were doing so good, don’t blow all of the goodwill we gained between us.” “I thought you were different!” Kaleb yelled at Beckie, hoping that she would just stop. “I thought you weren’t like…” “Who? Who is she like?” Layla pointed to herself. “You thought she was not like ‘me’?” Layla’s arrival had turned the whole morning upside down and made everything that much worse. His super-smart, totally annoying stepsis had a tendency to do that. “All I’ve done is take care of you, Kay-Kay. If you’d pulled this kind of crap at the Little Procurement Center, you’d be done and diapered already. We keep giving you chance after chance, time after time, but you’re still acting this way towards me and my friends.” “Yeah, Kay.” Beckie slowed her approach. “You’re not being fair.” Kaleb couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His eyes darted back and forth, if this was a video game he’d have used his power ups or consumables, or limited time super attack — or he would have reloaded a previous save. “Not fair?” he said to the two of them, before laughing manically. “Hahaha. You’re both accusing me of not being fair? How has anything that’s happened to me been fair? Answer that for me. You were born normal, and I was born with this freaking recessive thing. Admit it, I was born wrong, you were born right. Admit it! Admit it!” “Kay-Kay…” His stepsister held up a hand to stop him from continuing. Layla had a strange expression on her face. Could it have been pity? He wouldn’t know, he’d never seen her wear that emotion for him before. He tried not to let that bother him as he regarded her like a monster ready to eat him alive. “We’re just trying to help you,” Layla said softly. "Why don't you let us help you?" “You’re not helping me! You’re ruining me!" Kaleb pleaded to the two Bigs. "Why can't you guys see that?" They weren’t seeing things his way, and they weren’t going to try — so why did he keep arguing? His two pursuers silently made a semi circle of two, a triangulation of terror, where point A and point B were perfectly aligned like edges of an Amazonian net. When Beckie and Layla were in position, they began pushing him back further and further. Past his room, past his sister's, then there was nothing left but a door to his doom. "You know, Kay-Kay." Layla swiped a Big hand at him, which he dodged. "You're behaving like you have Maturosis. The paranoia. The anxiety. The selfishness of a toddler. The attention seeking of a baby.” He spun himself to the opposite wall. "Am not!" "Can’t you see how you’re acting?” Beckie shifted her feet like a fencer, sliding closer to his side of the hall. “You're being so childish! Stand still, so we can help you. Why do you keep running from us?” "Now you know what I have to deal with every single day," Layla complained to her friend, she had a smugness about her that made her extra annoying. "I have to live with Mr. Just-Like-A-Little. He's always skating on thin ice but never getting wet, but I think that’s about to change.” “Really?” Beckie eyed the soft spot between his legs. “Are you going to have an accident, Kay?” “No!” Kaleb barked back. “I’m not going to have an accident.” They didn’t believe him, not one bit. Neither did he. The pain inside from holding it felt less like pain, more like an anchor weighing him down. His stepsister hesitated a full Big step behind the front line, if by some slim chance Kaleb managed to thwart the reach of Beckie. Jeez, he had to pee something awful. It hurt so bad to hold it in. Layla noticed him slowing, she extended a hand to Beckie’s shoulder, instructing her to do the same. "We just want what’s best for you, Kay-Kay. You struggle with everything, and you won’t take our help. Your mom warned me about this..” Kaleb paused, panting from strain. “What do you know about my mom?” “Now isn’t the time to talk about that, you’re about to have a potty emergency. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Look at yourself, you’re about to pee your pants, and you’re still being stubborn.” Layla did that thing with her body language, a hand on the hip, a shift in the pelvis, the one that made him feel stupid. He wasn’t stubborn, he just wouldn’t give in so easily. “Yeah.” He licked his lips and crossed his legs. “Spell it out for me.” His stepsister scratched the top of her head and settled into lecturing stance, it was like she didn’t want to tell him something, but she had to, and now she was swiping her hands to further prove her point. “All your life you’ve been this way, Kay-Kay. You never fit in. You’re always a step behind. You’ve failed every single diagnostic imaginable, resisted any attempt of course correction, and you’re a constant pain in everyone’s ass. It’s about time someone does something about it, for your own good.” "For my own good?” questioned Kaleb. “That sounds like a threat.” “It isn’t a threat, it’s someone wanting to help. I’m going to have to ask this, since you’re in the middle of the Cushioning test, so please answer nicely.” “Alright…” Kaleb felt his bladder twinge hard, he cross his legs, and buckled over. “Do you want help getting to the potty? All you have to do is ask.” “No. Nope.” He grunted as the spot below his belly made its displeasure known. “No help needed — I can do this myself.” Kaleb pressed himself against the wall, it took all he had to keep continent, he could barely move now. Since walking was out of the question, maybe he could fling himself from one wall to the other. He was going to ping-pong his way into freedom — or he could just prolong the inevitable as long as he could. Same with the need to ‘go’, he kept pushing it away, resisting the urge, the need for relief. He clenched his fists at his side. “You’ve already made up your mind about me, so why even bother with this whole charade. Is the Cushioning test even real?” “Of course there’s a Cushioning test,” replied Layla, she clicked her lips together and rolled her eyes. “The test is designed to ease the descent into Maturosis, Kay-Kay, like the name suggests. As Amazons, it’s our responsibility to identify and intervene when symptoms are showing. So why do you keep showing symptoms, little bro?” “I’m not showing any symptoms!” Kaleb yelled back at his stepsister. “You’re just making them up as you attack me.” “Not showing any symptoms?” Layla laughed like he just told a joke. “That’s hilarious — You’re about to pee your pants and there’s a bathroom just right there. It’s like you’re begging to prove that you’re not potty trained.” Kaleb slammed his foot to the ground, screaming: “I’m still potty trained!” And then he began to pee. The sudden force from foot to floor sent up a chain reaction that somehow triggered ‘wee wee’ mode. His mouth hung open, and he used both hands to clutch at the spot between his legs, squeezing to make it stop. “Kay-Kay, I’m tired of the…” Layla stopped in her tracks as she watched him curiously. “Are you really…?” The pitter-patter sounds coming from the crotch of the monkey footie told everyone what they needed to know. He tried to hold back and somehow stop the flow, but the trickle became something more pronounced, so relaxing and relieving — and embarrassing — all at the same time. Kaleb stood at attention, bowlegged, and let it all out. “Ohhh….” Kaleb gasped. This was happening, and there was nothing he could do but accept the ride. His face burned as hot as his crotch, a warm feeling permeated were he peed, spreading across the inside of his disposable underwear. A hint of sharpness filled the air, while the padding of the detector-protector soaked it all in like a good sponge. Damn, he hated sponges. A loud alarm beeped from the kitchen table where the Cushioning gear was kept. All the data that flowed into his pull-up had to be collected somewhere, it was probably going to spike his graphs, or turn them really red or something. The girls just watched him wet, their faces didn’t betray any emotions. Layla didn’t throw a victory parade, Beckie didn’t lick her lips like he was dessert. It was just something that happened, and when he was done, they all exchanged careful glances. He tried to explain himself. “I… I…” Layla stopped him. “It’s not your fault.” “Yeah, Kay, it’s not a problem, that’s what the DP is for.” Beckie lingered where she stood, unsure with how to move forward, she kept looking between his legs to see if he leaked. “You just held it in for too long and didn’t tell anyone that you needed to go. It’s not that unusual to have accidents in your condition. You can’t blame yourself, that’s the most important thing.” “I just… I just…” he was looking for words, but none came to him, as realization made its presence known. He peed his pants. It was over for him. All at once, Kaleb began to shake. It started at a spot within his big toes, then both of his feet began to convulse, his knees knocked together and rattled, as the soul-stopping anxiety traveled up his spine, tightening the muscles around his neck and jaw, making his teeth chatter in his closed mouth. He was going to cry. He wet his pull-up, and now he was going to cry like a baby. Beckie crawled over to Kaleb, just within reach, hesitating to embrace him if needed. “Shhh… shhh… I know…” Her soft bright eyes locked onto his, he was being swallowed whole by despair, slithering down its mouth like a slug. As the girls watched and waited, Kaleb rocked back and forth in place as a human see-saw, his pale lips trembling like the rest of his body. This was nightmare material, the kind of impossible that was life-ruining — where was the reset button? The worse part was that the wave readers were reading every bit of his torment, deciphering his pain into ones and zeros, prepared to spit it all out in a report. Nothing was safe. No clean ship. He was drowning. “I think he’s regressing further,” Layla said as she retreated to the living room. “I’m going to get my bag for Escalation.” “You do that,” Beckie shouted back, she had her hands ready in case Kay toppled over. “I’ll stay with him while you get the bag. He’s falling apart on more than one social emotional level. Escalation is necessary for his own protection.” Escalating? More than one social emotional level? Neither sounded good. "What does that mean?" Kaleb began to panic, he looked to Beckie for answers. “What’s more than one social emotional level? What’s happening to me?” “You’re sick, Kay.” Beckie reached out and grasped his hand. “You’re not well and we’re going to make you better, but first we’ve gotta get cleaned up.” The softness of her feminine hand didn’t calm him like before, her hand was huge, dwarfing his own. The close contact made him feel so much smaller in his own body, or maybe it was the soggy part between his legs that dipped against the crotch snaps of the footsie. Either way, he broke the contact between them, and yanked his hand away, scowling at Beckie. His violent reaction seemed to have hurt her feelings, but a lot of that was going around. Kaleb tried explaining things, mostly to himself, but he was thinking out loud for all to hear — accusatory towards everyone involved. “No… I can do it myself. This is just a setback, it was this test that did it to me. Yeah.. the test. Not just the test, though. It was you and Layla. You did this to me… you… you… you made this happen. This is what you wanted.” “Stop — Just stop,” pleaded Beckie. “Listen to yourself, Kay. No one is doing anything to you, you had an accident because you won’t let us help you.” Kaleb shook his head, the tears welling in his eyes were burning hot, if he was going to tantrum, he might as well get it out now. “No! I won’t stop! You didn’t stop when I asked you to stop! I begged you stop! To leave me alone! And you couldn’t help it! Amazons aren’t happy until the whole world is diapered, everyone gets diapered, everyone gets babied. Well… I’m going to have to be the one to tell you this: I’m not a baby.” “No, you’re not a baby — at least, not exactly.” Beckie swallowed hard, choking something back while trying to remain calm. “You’re just… how do I say it? Confused, that’s all. We can’t be mad at you if you’re just confused… because you’re so freaking cute, I could gobble you up.” Kaleb died a little more inside with each passing second. “That isn’t helping, Beckie.” “I know, I just want you to embrace who you are in the same way that I do. That we all do, I mean. Your sister, your stepmom, we all want what's best for you." "Is this what is best for me?" he said as he grabbed at the sodden pull-up between his legs. Beckie took a deep breath, she wasn't as confident as telling him hard truths as his older stepsister. "If you're having accidents? Yes." "This was hardly an accident." Kaleb bit his lip and shook his head, he was doing his best to look indignant after pissing himself. "This was something you two made me do by taking away my chances to go... you know, just go. You started with the DP, you said it was all science. Then you made me wear embarrassing monkey pajamas, and that was because of rules, and variables, and controls. This morning, you woke me up, and took away even the opportunity to 'go'. That's the way I see it." "That's the way you see it? You're cute, Kay." Beckie softly chuckled as she rose up from the ground, she was a few feet taller than Kaleb, but she seemed to rise higher than that. "I can't testify to what happened yesterday or last night, but I distinctly remember asking you if you needed to go potty earlier when we were playing games. You chose to keep playing games, so don’t blame this one on me." “No. No. No. You don’t get to walk away from taking away my potty privileges and then blame me for wetting my pants.” “You lost your ‘potty privileges’ by telling lies,” Beckie corrected him with a harsh tone. “Did you ever tell us the truth? If not, then going to the potty obviously wasn’t important enough to you.” "That's not..." he raised a finger to make a point, then the point never came. "That's not entirely true..." On second thought, Beckie was kinda right about this. What 'this'? The whole 'this'. The entire morning, the entire night before, if he were in the Amazon's giant shoes, what would he see from Kaleb? How would he think about the boy who willfully went into a pull-up, capitulated into some pajamas, and didn't tell the truth so he could go potty? Not good things. Kaleb wondered aloud. "What's wrong with me?" Before Beckie could answer, Layla rounded the corner from the living room, softly stepping down the hall to where their low-speed chase came to a wet end. There was a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. And not the small kind, like a clutch or a purse, a huge cottony tote decorated with a menagerie of pastel cartoon animals. They were bright and cheerful, both in color and wearing smiling faces, kind of a mockery of the scene around him. Kaleb felt his heart leap into his throat. That bag was for him. A diaper was coming next. How far had he fallen in just one day? "There's nothing ‘wrong’ with you, Kay-Kay," Layla explained as she adjusted the bag at her shoulders, side-eying Beckie with her usual coldness and confidence. "You have a condition - a strange one, but not as uncommon as you’d think. Kaleb, your brain and your body are on different wave-lengths. Your body says that it’s eighteen on the verge of graduating high school, that you're interested in girls, in playing video games, or in whatever you think is cool.” “Your brain, on the other hand, thinks you're a toddler. According to the data, you're in the beginning phases, hopefully we caught it in time, since we don't know how bad it can get. First, it's the toilet training that goes. That normally shows up on everyone's radar. But there are other things, like always lying, afraid to be alone, or seeking comfort in tactile objects, or being constantly moody.” Kaleb studied his stepsister’s face, was this all still a trick? Another manipulation from the master manipulator? No. She actually looked like she wanted to help him. What in the world was going on? “Another big sign that a Little is suffering from Maturosis is when they don’t fit in with their peer group. Have you ever felt like you don’t fit in?” He didn’t answer — but a crooked desk came to mind. “I can go on and on,” Layla said as she tapped the side of the diaper bag. “But I don't want you to sit too long in a wet pull-up." What was he hearing? Kaleb grabbed at his head with both hands, tightening his fingers into the skin of his scalp. If there was a way to "come to grips" with this situation by actually gripping, he'd find it by pulling out thick strands of brown hair. He fought the urge to tug it all away, just like he fought the urge to scream, or to cry, or to just flat out run for his life. "Let me get this straight," he said as he sniffed loudly. "My brain thinks I'm a.. a.." Layla finished his sentence for him. "Your brain thinks you’re a baby — that’s called Maturosis.” .............................

Wow. A lot of good points being made here, so let me address them. I’m on my phone so I can’t answer them as well as I’d like , but I’ll do my best. Yes. His family can overpower him and do whatever they want. But what they need is a “reason” to baby him. Amazons have warped brains, warped rules, and warped realities. They can’t treat Kaleb like a Little until he proves that he’s a Little. What’s the fun in giving the baby treatment unless they actually deserve it? And Kaleb does a great job keeping them at bay. He’s done it all his life, even when he was much younger, as his dream suggests. His conversations feel like battle, he likes to hide in his room, he is so used to random pants checks that it doesn’t phase him. His ace in the hole, from day one, is his impeccable dryness, his clean ship — aka his well squabbed poop deck. Anything Little proof takes away his ability to ‘control’ that aspect. The pajamas scare him, but what also scares him, is his lack of fight. He isn’t acting normally. The Cushioning test, and its metaphorical magical sponge, is making people act differently, including himself. Remember, Kaleb agreed to the conditions of the test, and not following through is like admitting he’s guilty of being a Little. Why do the test at all? The Cushioning Test is the ‘reasoning’ that Layla’s been looking for; something beyond the clean pants, something mental that they can’t see, scientific proof that her immature stepbrother is actually baby material. These are all good questions, I hope my answers are good enough. The best way for me to describe things is to compare the Cushioning to a witch trial — he’s guilty, they just haven’t figured out how yet. ———————— The integrity of Beckie’s bottle has been called into question. Some spoilers here: it isn’t poisoned. While intoxicating him with her perfume, and other things, Beckie notices him twitching from the need to pee. It hadn’t quite been 12 hours, but it’s close enough. Her first thought is that he’s thirsty. So she distracts him with video game talk, and makes him a bottle, and pulls him over her lap. Beckie doesn’t need the juice to be anything besides juice, Kay is a dam about to break, she just needs apply a bit more pressure. This all gets interrupted when Kay comes to his senses and realizes that he shouldn’t be drinking from a bottle, and further interrupted when Layla storms back inside of the house. Another spoiler: Beckie was given a task and she isn’t doing it, the desire to hold Kay in her lap was too big a distraction. At the end of the day, this is a hastily written diaper story by an amateur writer. There will be mistakes and plot holes, but there will be fun as well. I love challenging questions, interesting additions to the plot, comments, etc., they mean that people are reading my stories and that makes me happy.

That's probably a better story idea than this one, honestly. I think you're onto something about the Cushioning Test. Maybe it's a front for something, maybe it's real, maybe it isn't. Maybe an older stepsister is trying to Kay in touch with his inner child, maybe she wants to turn him into a bigger child. All fun and games in the land of Amazons. Yeah, they watched a 'movie' of 'The Present(s)', it was fun tying the stories together. As for mommy magic, this story has quite a few mommy characters, nice mommies, too nice mommies, mean mommies, too mean mommies. This chapter is with a mommy that's altogether 'too nice'. Let's see how it plays out. Thanks for reading and comments! ........ Recessive 7 Dreams are weird. Dreams make you think of things, and when you’re busy thinking of things, the thinking things impact your dreams. That’s the reason Kaleb dreamt what he dreamt. No other reason. The ‘weird’ could all be explained with this kind of logic. It was easy to tell he was in a dream. The fact that he was his normal-sized teenaged- self sitting in an old elementary school classroom spoke volumes. Same with the drowning sensation of wrongness and impermanence that touched everything around him. No matter. He was still there in this dreamland, with his teenage-sized knees pressed between the tiny desk and his chest. For some reason, Kaleb wore his old primary school uniform; dark navy blue overalls tight like lederhosen, with a red neck tie, and a white button down shirt. His dark hair well-combed and slicked back, just like the way his real mother used to style it. A chalkboard sat at the front of the room, with A B C written in talcum white. A few feet away sat a teacher’s desk; organized and neat, full of books to read and papers to grade. To his right, a long row of windows faced the playground outside. Kaleb knew those windows, he knew them very well. It was just like it was back in third grade, where his mind pulled these memories to paint an attempt at reality. But it was empty. The playground. The teacher’s desk. Every single desk besides his own. All empty. So there Kaleb sat, in a tiny desk altogether too small, looking incredibly stupid. That’s when he noticed that his desk was crooked. In front and behind him, and on both sides, there were long lines of perfect desks all in immaculate rows. This wasn’t good, his orientation needed correction, and Kaleb was just the man for the job. With some difficulty, Kaleb managed to stand from the desk, evaluating it for a moment, before tugging the desk to the proper spot. As it moved, the desk let out the lovely sound of screeching metal legs against the tile floor. He then gave it all a second look — still crooked. This time, the desk sat a little too far to the left. So he picked up the desk, hunched over and walked it like a duck, turning it just a hair to the right… Yep. Too far. Then he moved it again. And again. No matter how he tried to straighten his desk, his was never like the others. Always crooked. Always wrong. Always sticking out like a ‘sore thumb’. It was getting serious now. Kaleb skidded it from side to side, adjusted it front to back, sometimes in small increments, others with wild pushes and pulls, but everything he did made it worse than it was before. He wanted to scream. He stood up from his desk, preparing to toss it out the window, when he felt a tall presence behind him. A woman’s voice echoed through the empty room. “Kaleb, this isn’t right at all. What are we going to do with you?” Her question was rhetorical, her tone condescending, her words familiar yet distant. Her face remained hidden. “This might not be the right place for you, let’s go down the hall where you might feel more… let’s say… taken care of.” Kaleb knew that the Little’s classrooms sat just down the hall, and he knew those well, just like the windows. That’s how his dream ended. ——— It was first thing in the morning. A songbird chirped just outside his window, rich yellow sunlight crept in through the plastic blinds just behind his bed. Too early in the AM to say that he got a good night’s sleep, and way too early to think critically or see anything clearly. His dream was too weird to process, so he was loading this entire reality poorly. Kaleb had just opened his eyes to the world when it all came crashing down around him. Layla provided his wake up call, yanking him from the bed with both hands, lifting him up in the air by the chest of the monkey footsie. “What DID you do?“ his stepsister growled as she raised him from his bed. “What ‘did’ I do?” Kaleb asked right back with a tired voice. He wasn’t trying to be smart, or stupid, he was totally confused. Kaleb scanned the room with sleepy eyes, trying to find the source of the fire that burned her butt. No flames in sight, but he noticed that they had an audience. Beckie, in all of her morning glory, stood in the door frame. The other cheerleader was wearing a long t-shirt and short shorts like his stepsister. Happy, unhappy? It was hard to tell, since it was way too early to discern feelings from the face of a teenager. His tired gaze returned to his stepsister, unable to register the moment. “Did you hear me, Kay-Kay?” Layla continued to dig at him. “Your eyes are open, that means you’re awake. Stop ignoring me.” That’s where Layla was wrong, his eyes weren’t open, and he was not awake. His monkey hooded head floated back and his eyes rolled back behind their lids. They stayed that way until Layla gave him a nice loving shake, which seemed to do the trick. “Come on, you Little idiot.” Layla tried to bring his attention to attention. Kaleb looked about the room; it was clean, totally clean, 100% spotless. He had to hand it to Debbie, she did a good job straightening up. Where there used to be a pile of dirty clothes, there was now an empty corner. Same with the stack of dirty dishes that collected for months on his bedside table, and all of the miscellaneous trash that was everywhere had been disposed. Even his computer desk was dusted and clutter-free; well, except for yesterday’s Cushioning test pacifier, which sat ominous and alone. “There you are!” Layla hissed at him. “Tell us what you did, and we might let you off easy.” Kaleb scratched his monkey-hood covered head, doing his best to figure out the goings on. “I’m sorry, Layla,“ he said calmly, “but I literally have no clue what you’re talking about.” “Are you sure of that?” Her bright eyes narrowed, like a bird of prey spotting a mouse on crutches. “Or would you like some time to think of your answer?” Kaleb slowly nodded. “I’d like more time.. I think.” Something serious had happened between the moment he fell asleep and thirty seconds ago, when he was awakened by his stepsister the Amazon crane. Kaleb could read it in the room, on the tight faces of the two girls, something was off and in a big way. “What’s this all about?” he licked his lips, suddenly scared. “Where’s Debbie?” “Mom’s out with Charlotte…” Layla answered then retightened her grip. “Callie is missing.” “Oh no.” Kaleb sank lower in her clutches as he deflated. So this was what it was all about: A missing Little. He was putting it all together now. This shakedown had to do with Callie, but he had nothing to do with… “Ohhhh no…” he said again, this time with feeling. His mind flashed back in quick snapshots of the night before. That plastic latch and that conniving Little. The stupid Betweener that undid the aging Little-proof lock. Sometimes his own ignorance gave him surprises, and not good ones, like bad gifts without receipts. Callie was missing. The Amazons were upset. Things were all coming together now, and it was going to be a pretty big problem, especially when they found out he was the one to ‘undo’ the latch. You know, the one which probably set the Little free. And like every other problem in his life, it all added up to this being his fault — his doing, his Little mistake. What will they do to him when they find out? It was just a matter of time, he couldn’t possibly keep this secret for very long. Layla noticed the subtle change on his face, examining him slowly and surely. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” his stepsister cocked her head to get a better angle of her stepbrother. No answer would work in his favor, so he did what was best and kept his mistake to himself. Around him, Kaleb felt the room get hotter, a singular bead of cold sweat slinked down his back, weaving around his vertebrae like a slalom skier. He tried not to look guilty as his feet dangled from the floor. “I know that you’re holding something back,” Layla continued to press the issue. “If you don’t tell us…” “Tell you what?” Kaleb felt defiant, it was all he had this bright and early. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” “You do know, my sweet Kay-Kay. Why were you talking to Callie late last night? You know, skulking about when everyone was in bed. What were you scheming?” “No one was scheming anything,” Kaleb said to his stepsister. He could tell that she remained unconvinced. Layla scowled as she brought him closer, staring so deeply into his eyes that she could read his insides like a book. And judging by her face, she didn’t even need to get past chapter one to figure him out. His stepsister turned to Beckie in the doorway, her lips drawn tight. “Beckie, what do his wave readers say?” On command, Beckie took a second look at a small device in her hands before answering Layla’s question. “It says that he’s lying.” “Lying! Come on!” Kaleb squirmed in the ridiculously strong grip. “I’m not lying! I swear. I swear. I totally swear.” “Still lying…” Beckie muttered as she watched the incoming data from his electrodes. “Someone ought to do something about this fibbing, it’s unbecoming for a Betweener to tell stories like a Little.” “Alright, Kay-Kay.” Layla brought him closer to her, all menacing like. “If you want to play with the babies, I can oblige. No pottying until you tell us the truth.” “Wait! What? Seriously?” Kaleb protested but even he knew he was dead to rights. “That’s not fair, and you know it. Besides, you can’t enforce anything like that, Debbie would never agree.” Layla just laughed. His Big stepsister had a face she’d make when she was right, not like when she thought she was right - which was all of the time. This was the face she made when she KNEW she was right, and now she was going to let him know. “Once again, you are wrong on two points: during the Cushioning test the head scientist is in charge, which means I’m in charge, which means I can enforce any potty restrictions that I want. And two, my mom is on my side, not yours. She’s just pretending to be nice to you because you’re almost in diapers. I think she likes the idea of you actually being a baby instead of acting like one all of the time.” “I don’t act like a…” Kaleb couldn’t bring himself to say it. He began to beg as he kicked his feet in the air. “Please don’t do this to me… I’ll be good… I’ll do anything you want, just let me um.. um.. toilet.” “You know exactly what you need to do to get your privileges back,” replied Layla, who appeared pleased to gain some ground. “Just tell us the truth about you and Callie, and the potty is all yours — if you can make it. Sometimes, in cases of rapid onset Maturosis, toilet training can disappear in less than twenty four hours. And don’t question me on any of it: it’s in my textbook.” “Layla… Come on!” Kaleb helped her search for reason, or pity. “I don’t know what I don’t know. There’s no reason to take away my right to use the restroom! It.. It… It will mess up your test!” “Actually, it’s your test,” Layla deflected his concerns. “And it’s my homework - which means I call the shots, but the results are all on you.” This new stipulation was the straw that broke the monkey’s back. No toilets meant no options; no clean ships, no well-squabbed poop decks. It was a clear escalation, that much was certain. Now, what would he do about it? Complain? No. There was nothing he could do except tell the truth. But if he told the truth there was nothing he could do about their consequences for him. Consequences for Amazons meant diapers, that was one thing he did know. He was certainly in a dilemma, trapped between a hard rock and a padded tooshie. So Kaleb did what he did best, sulk. He felt the tension leave his back as he sulked mid-air, it felt good to give up every now and then. Kaleb shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.” “You can start telling us the truth, then you can get back to helping yourself,” Layla tapped his cheek with her hand as she gave free advice. “Anyways, Beckie is going to handle your Cushioning test this morning.” “Her? Really?” Kaleb glowered at his stepsister. Layla rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Kay-Kay.” After taking away his potty privileges, she was just handing him off to her friend. Just great. Very great. Fantastic great. This was the way it was with his stepsister, ignoring his needs while pressuring him to the point where he broke. Kaleb looked at the smiling Amazon in his doorway, and Beckie gave him a stomach sickening little wave. “Wait!” Kaleb tried one last time. “Why is she doing the test?” “I’m going to help find Callie,” replied Layla coldly. “After that, I’ll find out just how she escaped, more important - if she had any accomplices. In the meantime, you still need to finish your Cushioning test.” Kaleb was past the point of arguing about his test. “And why can’t I use the restroom?” Layla sighed. “I just told you, Kay-Kay. Don’t make me repeat myself, or I’ll mark it down on your test score.” “Don’t be so mad, Kay.” Beckie leaned into his room with a devious look. “I can be just as good as your sister in taking care of you.” “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Kaleb mumbled as he looked down at the carpet far below. The two girls glared at him in the silence that followed, expecting Kaleb to say something self-incriminating. Of course, he knew better than to spill the beans. If he told them that he had any part in freeing the Little, they’d turn him into a Little, which meant diapers, pacifiers, onesies and cribs — maybe they would even physically shrink him, the science on that subject was still ‘iffy’. There was a lot of insinuation from their harsh looks, and Kaleb sure caught most of it. “Kay-Kay?” his stepsister pulled him away from his thoughts. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you would like to say before the testing begins?” “You can use the potty if you tell us,” offered Beckie. The offer was tempting, but he knew they’d just take it away if he said anything. Plus, Callie couldn’t be too far, there was no way she could open the door to get out of their house, she was probably hiding under the couch at this exact moment. Kaleb looked everywhere but at his Big stepsister and her friend; at the wall, to the floor, scanning the clean desk and lonely pacifier, all good places to keep his eyes while he remained silent. When they stopped interrogating him, he wiggled his dangling feet in the air, indicating that he wanted down, and Layla finally obliged him by dropping him back onto his mattress. “Alright then!” Layla winked at Beckie in the doorway. “He’s all yours for day two, make sure he gets dressed and has plenty to drink, because he’s going to have a busy day.” His stepsister tagged out as her friend tagged in, slowly moving in too close and far too personal. “Hi Kay-Kay!” Beckie beamed with too much cheer for the early hour. “I’ve so been looking forward to this…” ——- They were in the midst of the crime scene, so to speak. The empty playpen sat in the middle of the room, with a corner of the portable Little prison peeled away like a dog-eared page. It appeared that, even after Kaleb’s ‘undoing’, Callie still had a hard time escaping her mesh-walled confines. He tried not to stare too long, or look too much, or notice the dozens of Little baby toys that were scattered across the floor. The tinker-toys were mostly uninteresting; pink ponies and half dressed Little dollies, and some sparkling glittery plushies of kittens. Actually, lots of kittens. Some bunnies. Some other pink knick-knacks. There were also a number of plastic cars, yellow dump trucks, and green trains. Which was weird, because girls didn’t play with those kinds of things. The baby toys shouldn’t have concerned him like they did, but they set the mood like scented candles, and he could practically smell the insinuation in the air. This place was now baby territory, it was best to not even touch the ground. Beckie sat on the rainbow colored play mat, each foam tile was decorated by ABCs and 1-2-3s. Kaleb sat atop her oversized lap, as her big Amazon bosom pressed against his back. He had learned that his attempts at ‘secrecy’ the night before had all been in vain. Of course, Beckie already knew about the Detector-protector. Of course, she was in the same Little care class as Layla. Of course, Kaleb had to wear the monkey footie while he did his “testing” (air quotes intended). For the sake of saving time, ‘they’ had decided to combine two tests into one: finishing the much maligned passive suckling pacifier test from the day before, and working on some kind of a memory response game on the tablet in front of him. The ‘passive sucking’ test pacifier he knew, and he let Beckie slide it in his mouth without a fuss. The binky fit comfortably between his lips, and he unconsciously wrapped around the bulb adding another ‘suck’ to his account. But it didn’t matter in the grand scheme: There was no reason to fight the inevitable. On the plus side, his ‘cuteness’ made Beckie extra ‘touchy-feely’ on him. She had soft roaming hands with a delightful and delicate touch, and she smelled real good. Like too good. Her perfume was sweet and sticky, as Kaleb was embraced by human candy, and he wasn’t ashamed to breathe it all in. The cheerleader was pretty, even if she was an Amazon. Unfortunately, the computer game was kinda lame. It was one of those flip the cards and match the items on the other side kid-games with no graphics and no violence. It wasn’t a coincidence that the items were all babyish: diapers, teddy bears, rattles and the like. So that’s what Kaleb was doing; playing a game while suckling, all in Beckie’s well-proportioned lap, pretending that this intimate interaction had something to do with science. Beckie sure enjoyed having him there, she had done just about everything she could to cuddle and coddle him. By the way, she was bra-less. Kaleb could feel a pair of pokers among the softness of her breasts. He had decided not tell her that he noticed them, it was polite to keep that secret to himself. Besides, what was he supposed to say? Your perky nipples are distracting me from my video game? He just kept his mind on the tablet, the rest would work itself out. Red ball to red ball. Check. White bottle to white bottle. Check. Pastel printed diaper to pastel printed diaper. Check. New high score. Check. “Wow, Kay!” Beckie exclaimed as she again jostled him on her lap. “You’re good at this.” “Thanks, Beckie.” Kaleb leaned back against her pillowing chest. It was a video game; of course he was good at it. Still, the compliment made him a bit rosy around the cheeks. In a life where he managed to do everything wrong, it felt good to do something right for once. “Hold still,” Beckie said, “I need to check something.” The Amazon stood the two of them up, lifting Kaleb from beneath his armpits. Although he was closer in size to Amazons than Littles, Big girls like Beckie had a major advantage in size and strength. Kaleb was familiar with the disparity. His stepmom and stepsister could flip him about like a rag doll, so he assumed that it was the same for Beckie as well. For once, Kaleb wasn’t wrong, and he was in the air in a flash. With one hand, she undid the pin at the back of his neck before moving onto the zipper, loudly dragging the monkey footie open like it was nothing at all. Kaleb knew what was coming next, he stood still as her other hand snaked its way into the pajamas, grabbing, tugging, checking his pull-up for any misdeed. It was the usual kind of check; a pair of fingers at the back waistline and a gentle pull to see ‘what’s what’. Beckie also prodded the dry padding of the DP. Clean ship, dry padding, swabbed poop deck, same as always. “There we go,” Beckie said when she was done. “Are you sure you’re not thirsty?” Kaleb was certainly thirsty, and he had been wanting something all morning, but he knew her offer was a trap. The more he drank, the more pressure it would put on his bladder — it was simple mathematics, and he was already holding his peace. If he planned on staying one step ahead of the Amazon gang, he was going to have to ride through a dry desert to get to the other side of this weekend. ”No, I’m fine.” Kaleb cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’re fine,” Beckie giggled. “I think you’re so great.” Kaleb blushed, he couldn’t help it. “You really mean that?” “Of course I do,” answered Beckie, as she hugged him tight for the hundredth time that morning. “You’ve been so good and helpful this morning. I hope you keep behaving, we can knock out all of your tests early, and we can do fun things.” He squinted at the Amazon. “What kind of fun things?” “Well… finish the test without any fits and you just might find out. In a few minutes, we will have to do something which I’m not sure you’ll like. I’m kinda nervous about it myself, an excited nervous… but…” Then she trailed off as she just stopped to run a hand through his messy hair. “You know, Kay, you should really think about styling your hair.” But Kaleb wasn’t listening to her, he was thinking. Focusing. Doing all the things his Amazon teachers claimed he couldn’t do, and this matching game on the tablet proved his worth, now he was being hit on by a cheerleader, one who wanted him to actually play video games. Maybe this test thing wouldn’t end terribly for him. He crossed his legs as he felt the urge to go number one. He’d been holding it all morning, and the need was physically making itself known. He twitched and it made him make a mistake, no high score this time around. He grimaced as he tried to shake away the need to pee. It was growing into more and more of a distraction. Beckie casted her pretty eyes down at him. “Do you need to go potty?” “No… I just messed up,” answered Kaleb, as he recrossed his legs, tighter. “Don’t be mad at yourself for messing up — you’re doing so good.” Beckie stood up from the ground and plopped her Betweener charge onto the foam play mat. “Let’s get you something to drink: juice or milk?” The fact that she gave him a choice made him uneasy, this drink offer was a trap of some kind. Kaleb was aware that the perpetual paranoia from living with Layla was taking its toll, and the Cushioning test was making him question everything. “Mmm… Juice, I guess…” “Juice, it is!” Beckie said happily. “It looks like you’ve mastered that game, we should move onto something harder.” “Like what?” Kaleb muttered around the pacifier bulb. “There are other games, but they’re a lot more complex, you know, for Bigger gamers. I’m not sure you can handle games that are that hard, you don’t have the same kind of reflexes normal people do.” “You’re right,” replied Kaleb. “I don’t. My reflexes are faster than normal people.” “Alright… Mr. Pro Gamer,” Beckie chuckled. “Then we ought to test Kay’s lightning fast fingers, I’ll ask Layla as soon as she gets back. The harder games are not part of the Cushioning exam, so you don’t need to worry about doing bad on them.” When he noticed he was sitting on the play mat, Kaleb jumped up from the blanket and flopped onto his dad’s chair. While his family was out and about looking for Callie, he might as well sit on the furniture. He looked at Beckie for some kind of reaction, or condemnation, but none came. “I can handle any game you throw at me,” Kaleb bragged to the Amazon. “Is that so, monkey-pants?” Beckie ribbed at him as she prepared a bottle. “You really think you have the reaction time of a Big?” “In a video game, yes. We’re all the same size on a monitor. I think that’s why I like playing games, the stakes feel more ‘even’ on my computer.” “I’m glad you enjoy things,” replied Beckie as she shook the orange drink from side to side. “I think we’ve had enough pacifier time, how about you?” What did she just say? Just take the pacifier out? That would be cheating, or something. It was against the rules, and ‘rules were rules’ as said by his sweet stepmom. Kaleb didn’t even know that it was an option. The teenage Tweener had a tendency to scrunch his face when puzzled, and his face was totally scrunched. “What about the three hours in a row?“ He had found a way to talk around the smaller bulb, it made his voice sound funny, but it worked. “It’s been like one hour at the most. Listen, I know you’re being nice, but I don’t want to mess this up and have to do this a third time.” “We have plenty of solid data already, Kay.” Beckie rounded the turn between kitchen and living room with his drink in hand. “I’m pretty sure you fulfilled your single hourly requirement last night. Layla made you keep it in your mouth longer because she thought it was cute. Your sister just likes to mess with you, but you already knew that.” Kaleb felt his face fall. “You’re kidding, right?” “Nope, Kay-Kay.” Beckie shook her head. “You just look so cute sucking a binky, it’s just too hard to make you stop.” Ahhhh! Kaleb screamed on the inside when he heard this confession, all of the sucking was for nothing! No. Not for nothing. Maybe Beckie was lying. Maybe it was all a trap to make him start the whole experiment over. He’d been sucking the stupid pacifier most of the previous night and almost all morning. Then again, what Beckie had said sounded plausible, especially her thoughts on Layla the lying scientist. “I hate her sometimes…” he grumbled as he tucked his hands around his sides in a self-hug. “Come on, Kay, don’t be like that.” Beckie frowned as she cradled the scientific bottle in both hands. “Your sister cares for you. You should hear what Layla says when you’re not around, all good things, great things. And she talks about you a lot, so you shouldn’t be so quick to push her away.” Quick to push her away? That’s what you do with a snake, you keep it out of biting range. Why couldn’t other Amazons see what kind of stepsister he had? Layla was a master manipulator of the worst kind. He looked up at the Amazon in front of him, hoping to see any kind of understanding — but none was there. He didn’t know what to expect from Beckie. Beckie had a twinkle in the eye that made him give all of his negative reservations about Bigs some extra thought. Maybe he was wrong to judge her in the same way as Layla. Beckie was different. The softness in her features and kindness in her ways lured him into agreement, there was something magnetic about her simplicity. She also had huge boobs, which he used as a headrest for most of the morning. Both good things in his book. Sure, Beckie was an Amazon like Layla and Debbie — but the short haired cheerleader felt like something else entirely. Maybe that’s why Kaleb started to let his guard down? Or he was just tired of keeping it up for such a long time. Somehow he knew he was beginning to slip; his surrender was subtle, nothing at all like the magical sponge full of energy, it had no taste or flavor or feeling, it just began to slip away. “Tell me more about the harder games,” said Kaleb, eager to escape his thoughts about sponges. “I know one that’s called ‘Diaper Dodger’. It’s super fun to play, but you have to pick the right level, otherwise it’ll be too hard for you.” “Too hard for me?” Kaleb said confidently. “I’m pretty good at games, you know.” Beckie plucked him from the soft padding of the lazy boy and carried him to the spot where they were before. “You keep saying that, but I’m not as sure as you are, Kay.” They were now both on the rainbow colored play mat. Beckie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, dragging him back over her lap, this time in a lying position and facing up. Kaleb was admiring the fantastic view of the ‘underboobs’, soaking in the intoxicating candy smells of a woman closer to him than ever before. While he thought about breasts and video games, Beckie adjusted him over her thighs, preparing a bottle with one hand while the other wrapped around his waist like a seat belt. Kaleb felt snug, and very secure. He wasn’t going to fall out of this lap, no way. Beckie smiled a wonderful smile. “What would you say to a friendly wager?” “It depends on what I’m waging,” replied Kaleb. “I’m sure we can think of something ‘fun’…” Beckie purred as she slipped her delightful hand between his legs. With a single hand, she deftly unsnapped his crotch snaps of pajamas. They all popped free without a fight. Kaleb was too mesmerized by the sights and smells to stage any resistance. And why should he? This was just another wetness check, like time before and time before that. His stepmom and teachers would do this kind of thing all of the time. But he never felt like ‘this’ when they checked him. Beckie was pretty thorough with her ‘check’. She traced the outline of his choo-choo train DP with an insistent finger, running her nails softly across the minimal padding, blissfully circling the sensitive skin of his thighs, before sliding her finger harder along the crinkling crease of his ‘poop deck’. Then the pretty cheerleader cupped her hand around his front padding, and she gave him a nice firm squeeze. She giggled. So did Kaleb. Because her squeeze was not the only thing that was firm. Beckie cupped his crotch a second time and squeezed out a loud crinkle. “What’s this, Kay?” Kaleb gave no response. His cheeks burned red and he closed his eyes, he opened his mouth for her to remove the pacifier. He was feeling extra-super sheepish now, and all he could smell was candy, a scent so thick he could taste the sugar on his tongue. He opened his mouth wider to accept the oncoming bottle. “Alright, here you go, my thirsty little gamer,” Beckie said as she poked at his face with the bottle’s rubbery nipple. “Some nice juice. Yum-yum. Drink it all down, baby.” Kaleb did what was natural, loosening his lips and accepting the rubber nipple. It was canoe time. Rest time. Comfort time. He let the fantasy fill his head, the candy fill his nose, and the juice fill his belly. This was just like sucking a ‘paci’, but it came with a sugary sweet award for his efforts. Beckie made the best juice, way better than his stepsister. Plus, Layla’s recipe added a bit of ‘poop-yourself poison’, that powdery stuff worked its way through Callie’s system the night previous. Beckie would never do anything like that, she was so different, so nice, and was actually a trustworthy Amazon. Then he stopped suckling. Then he took a hard look around. Kaleb took a moment to study the baby-ish drink in his mouth before realizing something, something very important, something that had slipped by him without realizing it. Did he watch Beckie make this drink? How did he know she wouldn't powder-it-up to move the process along just like Layla? And why the heck was he drinking from a bottle? Kaleb shifted his mouth away from the nipple and glared up at Beckie. “Why am I drinking out of a bottle and not a regular cup?” In her defense, Beckie tried to play it off nicely, but Kaleb felt like she was trying to pull a fast one. She smiled at him. “It’s a part of your test, silly.” “No, it isn’t,” corrected Kaleb, he eyed the Amazon darkly. Beckie pulled the bottle away from his face, she looked unsure of what to do or say, especially after getting caught in the act of trying to ‘baby’ him. “Alright… fine... I heard that your mom got to bottle feed you, then I turned super jealous, and I don’t like being super jealous. I just loved cuddling you so much, I just want to take care of you, Kaleb. I mean, I really, really want to take care of you. I want you over my lap sucking from a bottle, and I wanted it now.” Kaleb gulped. Unable to move away, or escape, he sank deeper into her, maybe it could suck him in like quicksand. First things first, he hadn’t expected Beckie to be that kind of Amazon, then again, was there any other kind? Was there something more hidden behind her bubbly personality? Or secret baby-inducing pheromones interlaced with her sweet smelling perfume? Or was her kindness just a ‘front’, like a regression based psychological method of making him pee-pee on himself? The possibilities were endless. She spoke first. "I'm sorry, I just got caught up in the moment." “Beckie, I honestly don’t know how to feel about that…” A crashing sound came from the entryway, followed by the front door to the house slamming into the wall — startling both the Amazon and her charge. “We‘ve looked everywhere!” Layla said as she kicked off her shoes, Big stepsis took one look at the 'bottle-nursing' scene in the living room and asked, "What the hell are you doing, Beckie?" ......

I’m going to have to do something to an Amazon before this is all said and done. Now, which one will be the victim? At its roots, this is a step-sibling rivalry story that just happens to take place in the Diaper Dimension. There’s always trouble in family dynamics, sometimes everyone gets along, sometimes not so much. In this case, Kaleb feels like he’s being manipulated by his stepsister in not-so-good ways. He feels like he was tricked into this experiment. He hates the constant insinuation that there’s something wrong with him; that as a Betweener, he’s more like little Callie than a boyfriend for pretty Beckie. Kaleb doesn’t like being mocked, so he says what every family member thinks when they’re being mistreated by those closest to them - “I hate you, sometimes.” The key word being ‘sometimes’. However, his treatment does bring to question whether or not Layla is ever genuine with her offers of kindness. We will see more about her intentions later. I hope that clears things up a bit, it’s all in the ebbs and flows of a brotherly/sisterly relationship. Sometimes there’s hate. Sometimes there’s love.

Charlotte’s trying her best to be a good mommy, she’s just very new to it. Maybe we will see what happens when new mommies make too many mistakes. That’s what happens when you have an evil mastermind as a stepsister, she’s the director of this play, and Kay is learning more and more about his role. Thanks for the comments! Thanks for reading! …………….. Recessive 6 In ironic fashion, it was his stepmom who saved him. Yes, the new and improved Debbie was the one to pull the girls out of the living room, providing safe passage for Kaleb to leave. Somehow he had made it through the evening without his Amazon peers noticing his pull-up — a victory in itself. There wasn’t much of an argument from the girls, however. They had wanted to hang out in a more ‘private’ location anyways. It seemed that after Callie’s diaper change, they had lost interest in him, as if the invisible sponge had been wrung dry, and Kaleb could not have been more thankful. Unfortunately, that was the extent of his good news. Before their guests could leave, Layla had come up a silly idea that they should spend the night. Kaleb didn’t need to guess what was going to happen next: They had agreed to a sleepover before he could get up from the couch. His cruddy evening will be an even worse morning, Kaleb was sure of it. He was now in his parent’s room, since Debbie was still in the process of cleaning his own. Kaleb sat on their Big bed, using a huge comforter to cover his research-based DP while he watched her fold his clean clothes into small piles before putting them in a laundry basket. His parent’s bedroom was always Debbie’s domain, as clued by the decorative fluffy pillows, artsy duvets, and the delightful tones of copious candles and sprayable scents straight from the spa. There were family photos on the wall, group shots of three smiling Bigs and their embarrassed Betweener. Damn, he looked so awkward; like an unwanted add-on, an extra thumb with a goofy smile, an unnecessary idiot to a perfect family. Alright, time to think about something else besides how much he didn’t belong here. Nothing else came to mind, there were only feelings bouncing around inside his head, the most persistent were his feelings on the room. There was something naughty about lounging in his stepmom’s personal space. It was a strange internal sensation, one that tugged at him like he tugged the blanket over his pull-up. It made him think of things: soft things, nurturing things. That diaper change. The bottle feeding canoe dream. All of it gave him the willies, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. While his stepmom worked, Kaleb busied himself by trying to make sure that all of his clothing ended up back in his closet. This was his new priority number one. He’d heard horror stories of total wardrobe ‘switch-a-roos’, and he thought it best to keep an eye on things: especially on Debbie. As he watched her, he thought about even stranger feelings. Something about his stepmom was different, something invisible to the eye, like the spongy energy had cast a behavior altering spell that circled the entire household, making everyone act differently. It was magical. It was weird. It hid in the pockets of her apron next to the diapers, it was wrapped in the strands of his stepmom’s long hair, it was behind the toothy smile and roaming hands of Beckie, it was stuck to the sides of his head like the electrodes. “We need to talk about the girls spending the night.” Debbie neatly placed a folded shirt into the waiting plastic basket. “I don’t want you sneaking off to their room, I don’t want you spying on them, or being a creep.” “You don’t have to worry about that,” Kaleb said as he leaned forward on the bed. “Trust me, the last place I’d want to be is in the same room as Beckie.” “Oooh… Beckie is it?” teased Debbie. Kaleb decided he should do what he learned to do along time ago — keep his mouth shut around his stepmother. Still, something bothered him about this hastily decided slumber party, like a nagging whisper against the back of his neck; and he couldn’t quite figure it out what the hushed voice was trying to say, so he kept talking. “Does that mean that Callie is going to spend the night?” “Yes…” his stepmom raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Little. “She’s with her new mommy - why do you ask?” “I don’t know,” Kaleb offered with a shrug. “Where is she going to sleep? It’s not like we have a crib or a nursery or anything.” “In the living room,” answered Debbie, she carefully examined the inside of one of his boxer briefs before adding them to the rest of his clothes. “We’re using an old playpen that has the right safety features for Littles. Locks and things so Callie doesn’t get into any trouble. The girls think it’s a little ‘too old’. Charlotte complained about it, even Layla got on my case, but I think it’s going to work perfectly fine. The old pen is not as nice as the new ones, but you’d be surprised at what experience has to offer little ones.” Kaleb nodded along like he cared. “So where are Charlotte and Beckie sleeping?” “They’re going to be with Layla, in her room right across from yours.” Debbie crossed her arms and gave him one of those ‘looks’. “Somebody’s got a lot of questions, what is it that you really want to know? Are you jealous of the attention Callie is getting?” “No, no.” Kaleb retreated from the insinuation. “I’m just curious… that’s all.” “Well, it’s getting a bit late for curiosity,” Debbie hummed with a knowing chuckle. “Time for your pajamas, then we can go to bed.” “Pajamas?” Kaleb couldn’t believe his ears. “What pajamas?” His stepmom stopped folding his laundry for a moment. “You mean that Layla didn’t tell you?” “Tell me what?” This wasn’t looking good, not one bit. “Well, try to remember that these are your sister’s words and not mine…” Debbie then cleared her throat, before she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her apron, and recited obvious ‘textbook talk’. “During the Cushioning test, it is important to maintain the experiment in every aspect: keeping true to all constants and limit every variable possible, anything that can throw off the score should not even be considered.” “You sound a lot like Layla,” observed Kaleb. “What are you really trying to get at? I hate the way she sounds like school.” Debbie appeared pleased at the ‘compliment’ on sounding like her younger clone. “You’re going to have to wear the detector- protector all night.” Debbie looked him straight in eyes as shared the news with him. “Same with the wave readers.” So he was going to have to wear the DP all night (he figured that much), and the electrodes on the sides of his head (he also figured). His stepmom’s bad news didn’t bother him because he was expecting it to rear its ugly head. That’s the thing with living with Amazons, it kept him on his toes for so long that he was building callouses like a ballerina, or ‘ballerino’, or whatever the boy variety is called. Then there was the aforementioned pajamas. “That’s why you’re also going to need to wear Little proof pajamas,” continued Debbie. “So you can’t accidentally tamper with the DP and ruin the …” “Little proof pajamas!” exclaimed Kaleb. No, the mental callouses on his figurative toes weren’t thick enough for that garbage. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Kaleb yelled at his stepmom, his words were probably heard through the walls. “I’m not going to fiddle with the stupid test! Why can’t you trust me?” “There are rules,” answered Debbie jovially. “It’s not that we don’t trust you — it’s the rules. And rules are rules. Did I mention that it’s the rules?” Why, oh why, why, why did he sign up for this stupid test? Kaleb slapped himself in the forehead with both hands and raked them slowly down his face. Little proof pajamas were just like Little proof tapes in a diaper, a wearable lock where only Amazons owned the keys. Right now, he was in a DP, his toileting was under his control. He had already gotten up and peed in the oversized toilet twice that afternoon, once before and after their surprise visitors. Just yank them down and do the tinkling, easy as pie. If he wore anything “Little proof”, that liberty was out of his hands, and he would be begging for release just like stroller-strapped baby Callie. He sniffled a bit, found his backbone, and made himself taller on his stepmother’s bed. “What if I say that I’m not going to wear them?” “You don’t have a choice,” Debbie replied matter of factly. “Rules, honey.” “Well… I don’t care what the rules are, I’m not going to be tricked into putting on anything I can’t take off.” Kaleb got up from the bed and was on his way to his room, where he’d tuck away for the rest of the night and deal with the consequences for the following morning. Whatever his punishment was, it would would most likely be better than being locked away in a onesie or footie or nightie or whatever scientific cruelty they had planned for him. Now, if he could just sneak by Debbie as she finished up the laundry… “Night time diaper,” Debbie said firmly. The Diaper-word brought Kaleb to a sudden halt. He obviously didn’t hear her right, so he cocked his head her direction. “You go out that door,” growled his stepmom, “and you’ll end up in a night time diaper, the very thick kind, with Little proof tapes.” Kaleb burned hot. “No way…” His stepmom made eye contact to drive it home, like the final spiking of a railroad tie, it rang in his ears and kept him in place. “And…” Debbie was really enjoying the her power of him now. “I’ll do it in front of the girls, maybe let Beckie pick out the diaper, she has good taste in Littles.” Oh, the insinuation. It dripped from every word and thought and collected in a puddle inside his brain. There was a reason Debbie was being so uncharacteristically nice to him, so he’d be nice right back, and be a good little boy. But like all things, the affection was just another lie. Kaleb asked, “Are you serious?” “No, silly, I’m not serious,” Debbie said gleefully. “I’m your mommy.” Everything changed then. He was no longer in control, it had somehow slipped his grasp, and he was just finding out about it. Suddenly, the white paneled door from the bedroom to the hall felt so far away, same with the safety of his room. The tiny house full of Bigs became bigger as the space became tinier. No, it didn’t make sense, but neither did his agreement to be a part of this Cushioning test. Kaleb closed his eyes and resigned himself back into the hands of the experiment. Why was he even considering continuing the experiment? There had to be a way out. The self-imprisoning pajamas felt like a step too far — and still, he stood in his spot, and it wasn’t just his stepmom’s well-timed threat that froze his feet to the floor. This spongy magic energy was changing him as well, he no longer wanted to put up any fight, he just wanted it all to be done. What was the way Layla said it? “One way or another”. Sheesh, that was dark, but it was how he felt. Before the Cushioning test, Kaleb would have made a brave stand for his dignity, but he was tired of standing, so he lifelessly flopped to the carpet, waving the white flag before a shot was even fired. “Fine, fine.” His voice sounded tired and not his own. “Bring on the pajamas.” …. “Now, Kay-Kay, it’s very important to answer truthfully,” Layla said as she stifled yet another girly giggle. “How does wearing the pajamas make you feel?” Kaleb managed a wary expression. “How do you think?” His stepsister was already dressed for bed, she was still pretty without makeup. Gone was the red cheerleading outfit, replaced by a long gray shirt that hung loose over her body. Also, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Kaleb had tried not to notice, but Amazons were extra-bosomy, so he noticed. There were athletic shorts underneath, short enough to hide under the long shirt and show off a whole lot of leg. That’s what she got to wear to bed. As for Kaleb, he didn’t get off so easily. How was he supposed to know that the special research pajamas was actually a monkey footie? Yes, monkey. And footie. The body hugging fabric went down his legs and over his feet. The PJs were tan and brown in color, had a hood that went over the head, with a pair of half circle ‘ears’ atop the hood, and a zipper than ran down the back. There were a semi circle of snaps that ran along his inner thighs that he didn’t even want to think about. It even had a cute curly monkey tail on the butt. Death was an easier out than these pajamas. “Use your words, Kay-Kay. We need to cross reference your feelings from the wave readers to study your verbal reciprocity levels, that’s why we’re doing this interview.” “Are you sure about that?” Kaleb looked at his footie-covered chest, arms and legs. “I thought it was so you could humiliate me and document the results.” “So you feel… humiliated?” Her searching eyes flashed like sharp teeth. “Why?” “Why?” Kaleb echoed his stepsis, pointing at his outfit. “I’m dressed like a baby monkey! All that’s missing is the diaper and a banana.” “All that’s missing is a ‘diaper’?” Layla repeated for clarity’s sake. “That’s not what I meant!” Kaleb was really burning hot now. “You know that!” “It’s what you said, Kay-Kay,” Layla replied as she typed furiously on her computer tablet. “I’m just documenting your words and your behavior and your wave readers. You can’t be mad at me for you thinking your thoughts.” Kaleb got up from the floor where they were both criss-cross applesauce. “What’s my thinking thoughts have to do with anything?” “Science is all about data and numbers,” started Layla. “Your numbers… I know shouldn’t even tell you, but since I’m a nice step-sis, I will. Ever since baby Callie came over, your Beta-alpha-beta-upsilon waves have been off the charts. It’s reading like you have Maturosis, Kay-Kay.” He sighed. This was totally expected. 100%. Kaleb took a deep breath, let the air mingle a bit then he let it shoot out of his nose. It was almost calming getting the worst of the news over with; so she wanted him to believe that he had Maturosis — a made up disease brought to life by overzealous, self-righteous Bigs. No big deal. “I’m sure it does, Layla.” “You don’t believe me? Well, then, let me show you how well you’re doing on the Cushioning.” Layla spun the screen around so he could see for himself: Everything, everywhere was in deep crimson, the bar graphs, as well as the pie charts, and there were squiggly lines that exceeded normalized levels. It was all too much for him to look at, so he motioned for Layla to turn the screen away, and she did. “All I’m saying is that if you were in a Little Center, you’d be in very Big trouble. I’m not cheating the test, Kay-Kay. This is making me concerned for your health.” “Oh, I’m sure you’re going to lose sleep tonight,” replied Kaleb with mucho sarcasm intended. Layla exclaimed, “You don’t get it, do you?” “Get what?” Kaleb didn’t get it. “What if you really have Maturosis? Have you given thought to that?” Maturosis? Him? The ‘Maturosis’ hoax was all made up, right? He looked to his stepsister again, she sure didn’t look like she was lying, but Layla was a master manipulator, dishonesty was in her DNA. Something about what she said bothered him, and it wasn’t anything to do with her tests or his diagnosis. It was something else. In the provided silence, Kaleb ran a hand over his hood, between his monkey ears, and across his forehead, lightly touching the cloth covered bumps that were the stickied electrodes. Another hand went down his back, touching the curly monkey tail that shot out from his bottom, and sliding up the long zipper that ran from neck to butt. Then there was the metal snap at the back of his neck. That was the Little proof part of the footsie, not only could he not reach it, the folded metal of the snap was too strong for his Tweener fingers. “Do you remember when this all started?” Kaleb had a gravelly voice that sounded faded and distant. “You were the one that said that you weren’t going to cheat. Did you mean that?” Layla gently put aside the tablet, and ‘scootched’ closer to Kaleb, her shorts covered butt never leaving the carpet. There was a softness in the way she got closer, an intention to give a hug instead of her usual barbs. “I’m not cheating, I swear. Maybe you should consider what I just said. It explains so many things about you. About how you struggle at school and making friends, and your crappy love life, your strained relationship with your mom and dad and my mom. I know it’s a lot, but we can work through it all together. Let’s finish taking the test and see what’s what.” “Do you have any more ‘questions’?” Kaleb tucked his knees to his chest, and yanked back the forming tears with a sharp breath. “I think you need to leave, you got what you came for, didn’t you? You made me feel like garbage, you got your little laughs in, you even made a diaper insinuation. So leave.” Layla uncrossed her legs as she prepared to leave the floor. “Alright, little bro. Just keep in mind what I said about being on your side.” Kaleb scowled at his stepsister, everything felt hot and poisonous on his insides, acid had been bubbling inside him all night, and he opened his mouth to spit his venom. “You’ve never been on my side, Layla.” “Alright..” Layla resigned herself as she rose to her feet. “If that’s what you think, then I’m wasting my time by trying to be nice.” “Good. Great. Wonderful. You waste my time all of the time. You’re a Grade A time waster. This whole weekend is ruined because of you, and your experiment, and your homework.. and… and…” Layla didn’t stick around long enough for him to finish. His stepsister let the door to the hall do the talking as it closed behind her, leaving him to rant for an audience of one, to verbally stir the stew of his thoughts over and over again. After taking a few minutes to collect himself, Kaleb got up to return to his own room. The first thing he saw from the hall was the living room — more importantly, how it had changed. A giant playpen sat where the coffee table used to be. It was bigger than he imagined. The playpen was a mix of white and pastels, the colors slightly faded from age, a mesh wall separated the inside and outside of the cube. Debbie was right about it being old. Inside the four walls that went far above her head, Callie stood in a lily white babydoll nighty that stopped just above the belly, showing off a thick pink night time diaper. Her golden hair tied with white ribbon and into tight pigtails that flopped at the sides of her head. In her tiny mouth, there was a small pacifier, different from the one before, one the Little could remove and not the silencing kind. They both eyed one another in silence. Kaleb didn’t know why he stopped to look at her — wondering just how, and why, and when, and what. He was still deep in thought. Stupid thoughts. Maturosis, him? Maturosis, her? Everything came down to what the Amazons thought, or projected onto the Betweeners and Littles. From her jail-cell playpen, Callie watched him in his brown monkey footie, a puzzled look on her Little face, as he kinda stood just outside the living room. Somehow, she got his attention, because it was elsewhere. Callie motioned him to come closer, both hands grabbing his attention, lulling him closer with her bright eyes. And before he knew it, Kaleb stood next to the playpen, and Callie removed her pacifier to whisper to him. “You’ve got to help me,” Callie said as she eyed Layla’s door back in the hall, her face turned pink as she talked. “Can you undo the latch on the corner of the playpen?” After following her hand, Kaleb noticed the gray plastic latch that sat on the corner of the cube, something he could totally undo, something he wanted to undo. Was it something he should undo? He didn’t know. Kaleb turned to the Little with an eyebrow raised. “Why?” “Why? Why? You’re that stupid? Because it would help me, that’s why.” Callie made her argument sound so simple, and his objections sound so dumb. “Listen, you won’t get in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about. All I need is one little thing, so I don’t have to.. you know.. defecate myself.” The Little made sense. No one wants to poop themselves, but he wasn’t going to just do what she asked. Kaleb leaned into the railing of the play pen, putting both of his elbows onto the plastic sides. The baby prison was a little big to him as well, up to his head, so he had to stand tall. Kaleb took a moment to give the Little another go-over. After having such a rough night, he welcomed the chance to punch down at someone smaller for once. “You’re still potty trained?” He said with a wry grin. “Not from what I saw earlier. And what about the Little proof tapes?” Callie made a funny face and did something akin to an eye roll. Then she opened her mouth with a wide yawn, before rubbing her sore jaw, a condition from sucking a pacifier for too long. The Little had a haughty expression he hadn’t seen all night, one that was free from the torture of defeat. She locked eyes with him, confident and assured. “I’ll worry about the Little proof diaper tapes, you just take care of the lock.” “It’s still a ‘No’ from me,” said Kaleb. “I figured…” Callie said with a shrug, then she leveled her gaze. “I guess that’s why they push you around, you’re weak and stupid.” Kaleb glared at her. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, monkey-boy. You just do what they tell you. You’re just like a puppet. Or a plaything. Or a goo-goo gaa-gaa baby.” “Don’t you dare call me that,” he growled at the Little. Callie eyed him with renewed skepticism, the Little baby rose up to the edge of the play pen, and got in his face, her disposable diaper rustling as she moved. “Then do something about it,” she said as she traced her tiny fingers over to the corner lock. “Be a Big and do the Big thing, or are you too Little to stand up for yourself?” Kaleb took a deep breath. This was all so stupid. He shouldn’t do it. Why did he want to do it? Whatever. This wasn’t worth his time. Callie wasn’t his circus, and he wasn’t even a monkey — sans pajamas, that is. And Callie was dead meat anyways. What harm could come from just undoing a plastic latch? So Kaleb squeezed both hands around the plastic latch and did the ‘undoing’. Click. Click. Since it was an old playpen, the worn plastic had a bit more give to it, and his smaller Betweener hands had the strength to give Callie ‘a bathroom break’. That was his good deed of the day, now he could go to bed with a clean conscience. “This better not get me in trouble,” Kaleb warned the big baby in front of him. “You’re already in trouble ‘Kay-Kay’,” Callie said darkly. “Because they’re going to do to you what they did to me, monkey-boy.” Kaleb backed off, even a Little seemed to be dogpiling onto his bad evening. He frowned at the forcibly made baby, as she somehow got the upper hand, and he didn’t like how fast she managed to insult him. “Hey, I’m only wearing these pajamas for an experiment. I’m nothing like what happened to you. Nothing at all.” “Experiment?” Callie repeated him, so he could hear himself. “Is that what they said? And you believed them? You must not know much about Amazons, which surprises me, because your sister is the worst.” “She’s not my sister,” corrected Kaleb, “she’s my stepsister.” “The distinction won’t matter when she’s your mommy, or her mommy is your mommy. Your family dynamic is pretty weird, so anything can happen. Just listen to me, whatever escape plan you have in your Tweener head won’t be good enough. You should leave and leave now, before it’s too late.” With a flourish of her tiny hands, Callie indicated to the the thick pink diaper that hung around her waist. The white nightgown didn’t do her any favors, that huge diaper was visible for all to see. There were red hearts between the tapes, and a flowery wetness indicator that was still invisible, Callie kept dry for the time being. Kaleb didn’t know how he knew, diapers and diapering just permeated his home life to the point of blatant understanding. “You know, Callie-baby,” Kaleb made sure to put extra emphasis on the insinuation. “You’re pretty smart for a Little, just not smart enough I guess.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” Callie said as she rolled onto her back, and cupped her feet into her hands, into a diaper exposing yoga pose. She looked up at the unmoving ceiling fan as she rested her head on a folded pink bunny blanket. “When the Amazons want to do you in, it really doesn’t matter how smart you are. I guess that was the lesson for me.” Kaleb found himself unable to come up with a comeback, but he couldn’t, mostly because Callie was so damn right. Every time he tried to be smart, something bad happened. He found himself looking down at his covered monkey feet, ashamed of himself for being put in his place by a Little. “What’s wrong, Kay-Kay?” Callie giggled as rolled from side to side like a baby. “Are you one of those ‘speak no evil’ monkeys? Or ‘see no evil’? I’ll be honest, you’re kind of oblivious to their designs on you. It’s pretty frightening, actually.” “I can see why Layla did this to you. You’re pretty annoying. No, very annoying. Totally annoying. Are you done yet, baby Callie?” “Thanks for undoing the lock,” Callie delivered with a smile. “It saves me a messy diaper.” “You’re welcome,” muttered Kaleb, he was still chewing on her food for thought. Kaleb turned and moped back to his room still deep within his own head. Escape plan? He didn’t even have an escape plan, but neither did Callie by the looks of it. That Little was going nowhere and fast, she was locked in right by thick tapes and plastic hooks, crib bars and car seats, strollers, bouncers, and playpens. Ha! Escape plan… you first, Callie. He was about to slip into his room when the door to Layla’s opened just a crack. “Why were you talking to Callie?” Layla asked in a hushed whisper. “I don’t know,” Kaleb said to the shadow beyond the door frame. “She’s just confused.. that’s all.” Layla giggled at her stepbrother like he said something funny. “That’s all? Are you sure about that? You two weren’t comparing diapers or anything? Or potty training tips? Or planning a paci sucking party? Let me give you some sisterly advice: Don’t associate with the babies unless you want to become one, Kay-Kay.” “You know what?” Kaleb glowered at his stepsister in the shadows. “I really hate you sometimes.” “You know what?” Layla echoed right back, she had her hooks deep into him. “I love you sometimes… like right now… you look so cute. What did you say before? ‘All that’s missing is a diaper’. I couldn’t agree more, Kay-Kay. See you tomorrow, and try to keep dry tonight, your DP is hyper sensitive to wetness.” That was the final conversation that he’d have that day, and he ended it with just as sour of a mood as the entire afternoon. He didn’t even flip on the lights to his room. It smelt clean. Real clean. At best guess, his stepmom did a thorough job of it, but he was too tired to care, his bed was a yawning abyss that he wished would swallow him whole. Kaleb lowered himself into his bed and tried to think about anything and everything that didn’t have to do with Littles, or diapers, or Amazons and Tweeners. He counted sheep. He recited the alphabet backwards. He did his own word association test in his own head, but the internal beeping machine kept him awake long into the night.