Lady Lucia

Part 38 The fact that Noelle barely reacted was almost more embarrassing than if she had been amused at the fact that I was wearing underwear normally reserved for much younger girls. Instead, she just briefly looked me up and down, then walked over to double check that she had picked the right size. I tried to tell her that they were fine, but she merely ignored me and fussed over the waistband for a few seconds before slipping her fingers between the stretchy material and my skin. “You’re going to need a second layer, Miley,” she concluded, “I’m worried these won’t stay up if you have an accident.” Wait, what? “I’m not going to have an accident!” I insisted. Also, a single pull-up already felt so much awkward and bulky than panties did. I had to assume a second one would be worse. Looking down at me with a small scowl, Noelle asked, “Are you arguing with me?” “No!” I exclaimed, even more quickly than I had protested about the extra pull-up. Not arguing. Not when doing so could end up with me over the brunette’s knee and/or with Paige learning about my current underwear situation. “I’m just-” Trying to have a mature conversation. Trying to point out that I’m way too old to have accidents during the day. Trying to avoid wearing something that would probably end up being noticeable through my somewhat tight shorts. “It sounds like you’re arguing,” Noelle said, “Try this instead, Miley. ‘Yes, Noelle. I trust that you know what’s best for me.’” Was she serious? It would feel ridiculous to echo something like that, so I just muttered, “Okay. I’ll try on another one.” “Because you trust that I know what’s best for you . . . ?” She was being serious. Ugh. “Yes, Noelle,” I reluctantly nodded. My cheeks were definitely flushing as I said the patronizing words, “You know what’s best for me.” “That’s what I thought.” She walked over to her duffel bag and procured a pull-up identical to the one I was wearing. Rather than handing it to me, she came back over and crouched down. Giving a pat to my ankle, she said, “Lift.” Cringing internally, I did as I was told without much hesitation. Since we had literally just had a conversation about arguing, I knew better than to fight on a hill that I’d probably just end up losing on anyway. Noelle’s whole babysitting tactic here was to weaponize the pull-ups in order to make me behave. If I failed to do so before they were even fully on, I’d be risking any number of punishments. She slipped my first foot into the appropriate leg hole and made short work of doing the same with the other. Rather than letting me contribute to the process in the slightest, she pulled the babyish underwear all the way up my legs herself. My body was slightly jostled as she worked the second layer over the padding that was already on me, and it wasn’t long before I was officially wearing double pull-ups. “There,” she said. After making sure it was sitting perfectly on my waist, she stepped back to give me another once-over. “How does that feel?” Humiliating. Too thick. Beyond awkward for a girl who’s used to wearing regular underwear. “Fine,” I said. The cliché response when you want to complain but you can’t. As I shifted my weight from foot to foot, it didn’t take me long to realize that my thighs were no longer able to fully touch. I’d still be able to walk normally, but I would feel the padding between them every step of the way. “Good,” she nodded. On the same page as I was a minute ago, she said, “Well, I doubt those shorts will fit any more. Maybe you can change into them after lunch? For now, why don’t you go pick out something else.” At least she wasn’t patronizing me to the point of picking out my clothes for me. I reminded myself that Miley’s babysitter wasn’t doing any of this to outright embarrass me or overtly treat me like a tween like Paige had been doing. Noelle just literally believed that I was our neighbor girl’s age, and was methodically taking away the disrespectful and rebellious attitude she was under the impression that I had. As for the shorts, I doubted I would wear them later. It would look a bit suspicious to change halfway through the day, even if no one else knew about the pull-ups. Luckily, I had a white summer skirt that was comparable to the other outfit piece. Unluckily, it was a little bit on the shorter side. I gave myself a skeptical look as I twisted and turned. One wrong move, especially while sitting down, and there would be a risk of flashing the pull-ups to anyone looking my way. I didn’t get a chance to look for an alternative option, however. “Get moving, Miley. We have a long day ahead of us.” “But-” “I’m not going to ask again. Oh, and grab your lines, will you?” She wasn’t going to make me keep writing those, was she? Then again, it wasn’t much of a reach. I had only completed half the task before being put to bed, and Noelle’s no-nonsense approach to both keeping me in line and reforming ‘Miley’ to some degree meant that I wouldn’t put it past her to see something like that through. When I approached the hallway door with pen in hand and papers tucked under my arm, Noelle held up her index finger, “Do you remember what you need to do in order to earn your mature underwear back?” she asked. Kind of? She hadn’t been very specific. With last night’s lines fresh in my mind, I answered with a paraphrased version of what I had written 500 times. “I’m going to behave, and tell the truth . . . ?” I couldn’t help the uptick, as I wasn’t fully confident about what she was fishing for. “You’re going to show me that you can be a proper young lady,” she clarified. The moment she said it, I remembered the phrase from earlier. In my defense, I had been rather distracted about the fact that she thought it appropriate to put me in pull-ups. Going on, she explained, “That means politely greeting your sister and her friends, saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ and proving that you can have a good attitude when you put your mind to it. Can you manage that, Miley?” Questionable. Paige and her girlfriends were annoying enough to deal with on an average day. After everything they put me through yesterday, as well as the fact that I was still being babysat, I doubted they would make Noelle’s directive easy for me. I could already see their smirks and knowing glances without even being downstairs yet. “Uh huh,” I muttered. It was the best I could do. Telling the truth was impossible when half the ‘truth’ was bullshit and the other half was completely uncertain without knowing what the coming morning would look like. “I hope so,” she replied, “Because it’s going to be an additional hour in those pull-ups whenever you misbehave or show the slightest trace of disrespect to anyone. Got it?” Noelle didn’t wait for me to affirm that I had processed her daunting terms. She just opened the door and led the way out to the hall. Leaving the safety and privacy of my room immediately put me on edge. Although I had triple checked that my mortifying underwear was well concealed by the skirt whilst standing, I felt practically bottomless nonetheless. Someone would notice, somehow. I was in a sort of trance as I followed Noelle. Turning around was out of the question, as my mission for the next few hours was to be on my best behavior. That meant letting Noelle take me downstairs without dragging my feet. To my surprise, the other girls were already awake. I could hear their voices below as we approached the stairs. Last time I checked, Paige and her friends usually stayed up so late that they ended up sleeping in until almost noon. While I wasn’t sure what time it was without my phone, the angle of the sun in my bedroom was enough to inform me that it was earlier rather than later. Was their presence downstairs in response to the unexpected events of this weekend, or had they merely gone to bed at a more reasonable hour? I didn’t want to overthink it, though I also wanted to brace myself for being outnumbered almost immediately. Casually gripping my skirt on its banister side, taking an extra precaution in case anyone was close to the stairs, I made a conscious effort to take each step how I normally would. For whatever reason, walking down was slightly less natural in the pull-ups than walking forward was. There was no mystery as to where Paige and her friends were; they were all sitting in the living room and chatting about one of their games. Almost all of them had a mug either in hand or nearby, and they noticed Noelle’s descent almost instantly. “Morning!” Paige chirped, “Want me to put on a fresh pot for you? I think Dakota finished off the last one. Oh hey, Miley!” I couldn’t stay invisible for long, considering I was more or less taking Noelle’s pace. Grimacing at yet another reinforcement of the false name and briefly narrowing my eyes at my step-sister, I forced myself to soften into a more nonchalant expression before Noelle noticed. This was me being thrown into the deep end, as I still wasn’t sure how I was going to pull off a good attitude towards Paige. I settled on a neutral, “Good morning.” More polite than the shortened version, without going far enough that one of the other girls would notice. “I don’t mind making my own,” Noelle replied, “Have you had breakfast yet? I was going to whip something up for me and Miley while she gets some work done in the kitchen.” “Just coffee,” Paige said, “Do you need any help?” As usual, I could see right through her. The only time she wasn’t lazy was when it benefited her in some way. Noelle gave a small shake of her head. “That’s okay. You girls relax. I’m getting paid for all this; might as well let your parents get their money’s worth.” Paige shrugged, “You should get a raise. Miley can be quite the handful!” ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (90+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

CHAPTER TWELVE Madeline When everyone was gathered by the lake, Alex stood on one of those makeshift podiums so those farther back could see her. “Good morning, Fireflies!” she exclaimed. Her enthusiastic energy was met with mixed results; clearly I wasn’t the only girl who was a little cold. Even Bailey seemed less peppy than usual as she found our group after breakfast. Alex didn’t seem deterred by the lack of energy. “If you’re not awake now, the lake will get you there,” she teased, “And remember, this is a ranked game. Better bring your best! Especially those of you below bronze.” The actual event was a relay race of sorts. Each circle of girls would be split into three groups; the first had to canoe across the lake, the second would run the trail on the other side and pick up an unspecified item to bring back to the shore, and the last group would swim it back to the starting point. Alex then went on to explain why we were all in swimsuits, even though it sounded like only a third of the campers would actually end up in the water. “But you can’t have the same role twice,” she said, “Running in the first round means you have to swim or canoe next time. If you aren’t eliminated, that is.” Since a three-part race would take longer than a game of Dodgeball, it wasn’t something as elaborate as double elimination. The six circles of girls would be split in half, for two rising 6th vs. rising 7th vs. rising 8th pairings. There would be only one winner from each race, who would then compete for first and second place. Then, the other four circles would compete for third through sixth afterwards. As in, everyone would participate twice. I could see the intention behind the way Alex designed it. Camp activities were supposed to be fun for everyone, and this made it so the losing teams weren’t left out. After hearing the explanation, all I really cared about was not swimming. For once, I was grateful to be wearing a one piece, as running in a bikini wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable. Paddling a canoe couldn’t be that difficult. After sharing one or two more details, as well as reminding everyone of where each circle currently stood in the rankings, Alex gave us a few minutes to break off into our circles and figure out who was doing what. One of the Circle B girls who had been an unofficial leader of our Dodgeball team yesterday took charge in a similar way. She had the strong runners and swimmers raise their hands, pointing out that those would be the two parts that really made a difference. Ally, from our cabin, stepped up and said in a hushed tone, “You know . . . We could have all of our best girls start. Winning the first round guarantees us at least second place.” It was a pretty good strategy, honestly. Losing the first round meant that we’d have to try our very best just to get third place. The one problem with playing it safe like that was that we’d be less likely to win, which is what I needed to do in order to get out of this ‘camper’ mess. “Shouldn’t we go for first place?” I spoke up. Public speaking normally came more naturally to me, when it was with my friends and classmates. And yet, I felt a little self conscious when everyone turned my way. “I mean- We’ll never get the trophy if we play it safe. Right?” I had heard about that stupid trophy so many times since arriving; surely that was more enticing than simply being second or third at the end of camp. “We can go for first tomorrow,” Bailey countered, “When there isn’t a way to game the system. Better to stay in the running for first place than let everyone else catch up. And maybe we’ll get lucky in the second round.” She was talking to everybody, though I caught a glimpse of something on her face when she looked at me. Was she annoyed at me for something? I really didn’t care about the opinion of a bunch of younger girls that I would never see again, but Bailey had at least made things easier than they could have been since our arrival. It didn’t take long for the group to reach a consensus about trying our collective best in the first round, and no one was going to listen to a new camper about competing properly. While a handful of other girls agreed with me, we were easily outnumbered by those that liked the idea of taking the second place points and playing the long game. Maybe another team had the same idea, and we’d end up facing off against them in the second round. I was still going to hold out hope that we’d win against the older girls, since the alternative was another 24 hours of being a Firefly. Once the plan was settled, it was simple enough to divide everybody by their strengths. I didn’t need to be told that I was one of the weaker links, along with two or three other girls that weren’t the most athletic. We were split up between the two canoes we’d be taking, so those not running or swimming could carry us through the first leg of the event. A few minutes later, Alex and the other counselors collected the two thirds of each group that were later in the relay triathlon, as they all needed to be set up on the opposite side of the lake before we got started. Circle B was up first, thankfully. I’d rather get our turn over with, instead of standing around waiting. If our strategy worked, we’d also get more of a breather between rounds to figure out how to rotate teammates between the three options. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be able to avoid the water altogether; getting into the canoe required stepping into the lake. It was summer, so the water wasn’t that bad. Still, it was a lot more chilly than I would have liked. Shivering slightly, still feeling self conscious from how pretty much every other girl was wearing a more mature bathing suit than mine, I climbed into the middle of the canoe along with another girl who was there to be carried by the teammates who actually had experience on the lake. I didn’t know anybody around me, which made things a little awkward. All my cabinmates were stronger when it came to the other two legs of the event, and were currently getting organized in the distance. Once everyone was ready, Alex counted down from the shore. As soon as she said GO, I regretted being in this part of the race. Between the paddling of our own team, as well as the groups on either side of us, there was all kinds of splashing as everyone raced to get the canoes moving. “Maddie!! Come on!” The girl behind me snapped. I had been too busy gasping and tensing up from the cold water hitting my body in various places to do anything but sit there until I was reminded to actually participate. Great. Now I was the weakest link, when the camper next to me had actually been contributing as well as she could. As I started paddling, I belatedly thought about how I didn’t know the names of anyone around me, yet at least one girl knew mine. Because I was one of the new girls, maybe, or memorable from my weak performance at Dodgeball. Either way, I couldn’t really focus on that when I was struggling to keep up with the pace of my teammates. Our strategy didn’t seem to be working so well so far; as far as I could tell, all the canoes were making similar progress. I had no idea how the counselors judging us were going to be able to keep track of the transition between the first and second leg of the race. Each girl was supposed to tag a different girl’s hand before she could start running, and the teammates waiting for us weren’t allowed to take a single step into the water. It was total chaos when we reached the shore. As the campers in our canoe started jumping out, myself and one or two others nearly fell over from how off balance we were while attempting to do the same. This time, I actually knew the girl who was impatiently waiting for me to catch up with everyone else. “Maddie! Hurry!” Rachel yelled at me. Flushing as I realized I was the very last girl out of the water, I rushed forward and slapped her hand. She darted after the rest of our team, at which point I processed that the counselors were telling those of us who were done to get out of the way and observe from a spot that had been sectioned off for us. Okay. At least I was done. The silver lining of going first was that I didn’t have to worry about participating again until the next round. Hopefully I could be in the running group, which was the best place for me anyway. I wasn’t a particularly strong swimmer, which was a weakness that would ideally keep me out of the lake. Being splashed so badly was uncomfortable enough, and all I could do was air dry at this point. As we waited on the sidelines, the counselors stepped in to drag the canoes aside to make room for the girls who would soon be swimming. Aside from that, there really wasn’t much for us to observe while the girls currently competing were out of sight. While our team’s showing in the first leg wasn’t that impressive, putting all of our best runners in the same group actually made a difference. Bailey, Rachel, and plenty of other girls I barely recognized were sprinting back towards the lake. The item they had each retrieved was simply a relay baton. Way less weird or cumbersome than the girls around me had been speculating about, though still not the most convenient thing to swim with. The girls around me all started cheering, in that same shrill way they had during Dodgeball. I forced a smile and half-assed my own encouragement from the sidelines, reminding myself that winning was good. Paige had given me her word. Though she had been a total brat about all of this, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t lie to my face. If anything, she was probably assuming from experience that the oldest campers tended to do the best at these events. It was still a pretty close race. While we had a small lead, the rising 8th girls weren’t too far behind. From so far away, it was difficult to tell who had won, especially since the rules were that every single girl had to make it fully out of the water for that circle to claim the victory. Baton in hand, too. We were escorted around the lake by the counselors on our side, while the next round of campers crossed paths with us as they were taken the opposite direction. As we approached the starting area, the enthusiasm of Ally and the other girls who had been swimming for our team clued the rest of us into the fact that we managed to win the first round. The celebration didn’t last long, however. Not when we had to figure out how to split Circle B up for the next round. The same ‘leader’ as before–her name was either Cora or Clara–pointed out that we didn’t have to stay in the same groups as before. As long as no one repeated what they just did, we could pick and choose who went where. Bailey was also one of the unofficial leaders of our group, and she started separating everyone into tentative sections. There was a lot of overlap between the runners and swimmers, and the collective desire to win was stronger than the need to be sensitive about those less athletic. I was put into what might as well have been called the ‘last pick group’ with a handful of other campers. “Wait here,” Bailey said, “We’ll figure out what to do with you in a minute.” Before turning her attention to the others, she gave a little tug to one of my pink straps. Letting it snap back to my shoulder after a second, she smiled and said, “Cute swimsuit, by the way. My younger sister has one just like it!” It wasn’t quite ‘mean girl’ energy, but it was slightly more pointed than I was used to Bailey being. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. In her defense, I did look ridiculous in the bright pink one piece. Could I really blame her for subtly teasing me? Even when I really was thirteen, I would never have worn something like this. Most of the weak links, including myself, were eventually put into the second group. The logic was that we’d pair the slowest runners with the fastest swimmers. Worst case scenario, the main plan already worked and we secured second place; now we’d just try our best to beat whatever circle we’d be racing against for the gold. The results of the round happening while we were getting organized was a bit more predictable. One of the rising 8th teams beat the others, and were given a break to strategize like we had been doing. And, of course, to save the most important race for last. Meanwhile, the rest of the campers had to sort things out with each other a lot more quickly as the counselors reset everything. Since our team already had our plan figured out for the most part, we could sit back and relax for a little bit. While some of the girls started talking about overall trophy scores, since the nearby circle was different from the one that had won the Dodgeball tournament, Bailey and Rachel pulled me aside. “So, Maddie,” Bailey said, getting right to it once we were a small distance away from the rest of the girls, “You’ve been here for, like, two days. And you still haven’t been initiated as a new camper.” “That’s right,” Rachel nodded, “It’s a Camp Firefly tradition. And it’s the responsibility of your cabinmates to initiate you.” So, hazing, kind of? That had been my first instinct after figuring out that I was being treated like a camper by everyone. Except that would have been counselor/counselor stuff. I never stopped to think about how something similar might happen with new girls via returning campers. I didn’t get a chance to ask about it before Bailey bounced off Rachel’s brief explanation. “All you have to do is make it through one challenge from each girl,” she said, “And Rachel’s going to go first.” “I’ll start you off easy,” Rachel smiled, “You do get one pass. Don’t waste it. Anyway, here’s what you have to do right now for us . . . ” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 43 “Thank you, Kate.” Even when prompted to show her a bit of gratitude, I couldn’t believe that I was thanking her for putting me in the most embarrassing underwear possible. However, I was too out of sorts from the image in the mirror, and there was still the ever present desire to get dressed and leave the bathroom. I should have seen it coming. Kate immediately said, “For what, little Annie?” My lips tightened ever so much in annoyance, as I still was the older sister having to put up with this brat. However, that wasn’t the part I was playing at the moment. And I was absolutely in too deep to show any attitude now, while literally standing there in diapers. “Like, thank you for changing me, Kate,” I said, with a reluctant smile. “You’re very welcome, little sis.” Kate stepped in front of me, looking down with an idle smirk on her face. “Now, remember. You’re going to wear your diapers for a week, until we know for sure that you’re potty trained. But that means no more accidents, okay? You don’t want to be in diapers all summer, do you?” I blushed at the thought alone. Not sure whether or not the question was rhetorical, I just gave a small shake of my head. Just in case. “Then you better be a good girl.” Leaving it at that, Kate told me to get dressed. While I dealt with the shortalls, adjusting them in hopes that the unflattering cut would manage to hide the thick diapers as well as the denim had masked the pull-ups, Kate went about collecting all of her things and cleaning the makeshift changing station she had at the bathroom sink. Once I was back in the immature outfit, she was more than happy to hand me both packs of diapers. The disposable pack that had partially been used for the changing process, and more cloth diapers that matched the ones I had been pinned in afterwards. So wasteful. I made triple sure that they couldn’t be seen through the pharmacy bags she had doubled around them; at least she had a little discretion, although keeping this hush hush was also to her advantage. Kate took another minute to consolidate all of her things into a single bag, and then we were finally done. After reminding me that I needed to pay her back for all her purchases, she opened the bathroom door and led me back through the store. While it was good to be out of the mess I had been stuck in for an uncomfortably long time, there was still the awkward bulky feeling between my legs as I took each step. I had checked myself over in the mirror before we left, and it seemed like the thick diapers weren’t noticeable, but I still felt like every single person in the pharmacy that we walked past could somehow sense what I was wearing underneath. Fighting the paranoia and playing it cool to the best of my ability while hugging the bag of diapers to my chest, I let Kate guide me back out to the car where our cousins were still waiting for us. “Remember your quota!” she said at the last second, with an annoying lilt to her voice. Right. How many did I have left again? I already forgot. The moment I opened the car door, I kicked things off. “Like, sorry that took so long,” I said, with one of those painfully girl giggles I had been faking since arriving at our cousins’ place. “We, like, didn’t know where everything, like, was.” God, I sounded ridiculous. “Don’t sweat it,” Lilah said, “We were just catching up on, well, everything.” She held up her phone, which was explanation enough. Thankfully, neither of the girls asked what we were there for. The first lucky break in a while, since a pharmacy implied personal stuff. If we had gone to a department store instead, they might have asked, and I still didn’t fully trust Kate with whatever answers she would offer up. “Oh, Annie!” Kate exclaimed, “I forgot you need your car seat. One sec.” She dropped her bag in front of her own seat, which made me instantly nervous that one of the twins would peer back and potentially glimpse something from above. Like the light blue baby powder container, as that color was pretty telling. Although was there even any left in there? It felt like she used every last bit of powder earlier. At that thought, I held the diapers even more tightly. It was doubly vulnerable, both wearing them and holding clean ones. Twice the chance to get caught. “Kate, I’m fine. Like, really.” But she was already circling around the car. With her needlessly touchy ‘help,’ I climbed into the car and back into the humiliating seat, letting Kate deal with the straps until she deemed that I was securely fastened. Once she was done, she asked, “What do you say, Annie?” I blushed immediately. The reference wasn’t at all lost on me. “Like, thank you, Kate . . . “ “What a good little sister!” Her following giggle was a lot more natural than mine. As if the car seat and my getup weren’t enough, the drive back was extra awkward as I went out of my way to squeeze in as many ‘likes’ as possible before we made it back to the house. By the end, I was annoying myself with just how chatty I was being. I could only imagine what the twins thought. Not only did I sound like an overly talkative little tween, rambling about whatever while Kate oh so helpfully prompted me every now and then, but half the time the filler words made my responses almost nonsensical. “So, like, science isn’t, like, my best, but, like, I had to, like, do this thing . . . ” It was actually a real story from back when I was in middle school, but the way I stumbled through it like an immature valley girl was so cringeworthy. Either our cousins were tuning me out for the most part, or didn’t care to comment on the way I was speaking. I distinctly remembered other girls in my childhood being lightly chastised by parents for this exact thing, and I was intentionally cranking the bad habit to eleven. Hopefully Kate was keeping track, because all my efforts were spent actively working to get the total as high as possible. I couldn’t count at the same time; at least, not accurately. We made it back to the house soon enough, though that wasn’t exactly going to be a reprieve. Thanks to Kate’s lies, Aunt Miranda thought that this was partially my idea. And even if I managed to get a moment to myself, which was impossible when Kate had been attached at my hip almost every minute since we had arrived, what was I going to do with that time? My duffel bag was full of pull-ups, and my normal underwear had not so mysteriously disappeared. Plus there were those pictures; so far, Kate had only mentioned that they were for her own sake. Or, at the very least, to forever taunt me with once this was all said and done. But they still brought on a persistent pressure in the back of my mind, where I felt like I had to keep doing what I was told until I somehow found a way to delete them. After that, it would just be her word vs mine in terms of that mortifying ‘accident.’ “You two can go on!” Kate said, once the car was parked back in the garage. “I’ll take care of little Annie.” Did the twins really not pick up on what Kate was doing? Even if I was twelve, which I wasn’t, that absolutely wasn’t how you talked to a middle schooler. And yet, Kate was doing it constantly, even with an audience. Patronizing. Teasing. Fucking brat. She insisted on dealing with the car seat herself again, and took her sweet time with the straps while reminding me about all the things I needed to keep up for the rest of the night. And, once my feet were back on the ground, I realized that even being free from the car seat didn’t offer me a lot of options. There were still the bags of diapers and more, and our cousins also told us that dinner was almost ready. Apparently their mother texted them while they were waiting in the car. And, since we had taken so long, there wouldn’t be quite as much downtime after getting back. Kate walked with me up to the bedroom, then made me awkwardly stand by my bed as she sorted out my clothes. Undoing some of Luna’s work from earlier, she pulled out all my outfit pieces from the drawers. “You don’t need these,” she casually explained, “The twins and I picked out much cuter clothes for you!” Adding both kinds of diapers to the top drawer next to the pull-ups, she then placed the rest of my clothes back into my duffel bag and tossed it over her shoulder. “We’ll do the rest after dinner!” she said, gesturing to the piles of clothes from when she and our cousins found various outfits for my ‘fashion show.’ “You do like our choices better than your boring college outfits, right?” she asked, giving me a look. What else could I say? “Like, totally,” I said, though the energy from the phrase I used in the bedroom earlier was barely there. This was the longest day ever, and it somehow kept getting worse! She seriously expected me to wear Luna and Lilah’s old clothes instead of mine? But when I thought about it, it made sense. My clothes were a little too mature, and she seemed determined to keep me in the younger sister role all weekend. And honestly, she was probably going to. I kept digging my hole deeper, and still couldn’t see a way out without absolutely humiliating myself. “Ready for dinner, Annie?” Kate asked. She held out her hand. While there was still a little bit of Annelise in me that wanted to push back, this wasn’t the battle I was willing to put forth the effort on. “Ready,” I muttered. It was so dumb. I didn’t need an escort to make it down the hall and back downstairs, but I took Kate’s hand anyway so she could walk me. With that same smug giggle, she squeezed my hand and said, “This is going to be so much fun! You really were always meant to be my little sister, weren’t you?” No comment. Though it was just the two of us staying in the guest room, I was a little worried that she was leaving the bag of diaper supplies partially in sight. But it was too late. Kate tugged at my hand, and I reluctantly let her walk me out of the room. Still in diapers. Still her tween sister. Even after a diaper change, I was exactly in the same boat I was before except with clean underwear. And it was only Friday. There were still two full days of this to go. ------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Road Trip" (Two complete arcs/105+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 40 It was a much different morning than the previous day. Arriving at Westridge in her own car and changing into the academy uniform was one thing; starting the day on campus by waking up in a dorm room was something else entirely. As she stepped out into the hallway, Amelia slightly blushed at the thought that she looked no different than any nearby other girl doing the same. Of course, she was set apart by the fact that she was flanked by a prefect and her ‘older cousin.’ Although, if she had a choice, she would have opted to be alone for the walk. She would be getting enough attention as the new girl, and her current plan hinged on being as invisible as possible. While slipping away from the two senior girls was the biggest concern, she also didn’t want to be delayed by potential friends like Piper, or enemies like Summer. It felt a little weird to frame things like that, considering her real age, but Amelia didn’t know how else to think about it. She was still subtly in survival mode, so simplicity was the easiest way to compartmentalize everything. She didn’t have to deal with a flurry of other students right away, like things had been between classes, as apparently Ashley hadn’t just been mentioning the ‘late to breakfast’ thing as an excuse to get her moving. There were a couple of other stragglers making their way down the dorm room halls, no doubt getting a later start due to it being the weekend, all of whom picked up the pace when they noticed Claire. The brunette quietly scoffed to herself. She told Amelia that only the strictest prefect would write up girls for being late to a meal. The punishment of being turned away from the line was enough; it usually only took a missed meal or two to teach students the importance of being punctual. And, while it wouldn’t usually result in an infraction, a prefect was always scheduled to take up the rear of the line once the hour was up. As ridiculous as it sounded to limit mealtimes like that, Amelia had to remind herself that this wasn’t university. Her own teenage years at public schools had included rotating thirty minute blocks for lunch, including the walk to and from the cafeteria, and this was just the boarding school iteration of that since all the students lived on campus. Also, it wouldn’t be her problem when she was a teaching assistant, and it’s not like complaining about it to the girls escorting her was worth the effort. It wasn’t until they neared the dining hall, as it was called here, that it dawned on Amelia how hungry she was. Yesterday, Ashley’s tour had gone through lunch, something Amelia hadn’t thought twice about at the time. She had figured her ‘first day experience’ would only go through the end of classes at the latest, and she could grab a late afternoon snack or an early dinner afterwards. Instead, her only non-breakfast meal had been what Claire had offered the night before. Not nearly enough calories to cover two full meals, and not exactly the most filling snack, either. Amelia was hit with a tantalizing concoction of aromas from down the hall, and it was a miracle her stomach didn’t start growling then and there. She kept playing it cool, however, and continued to walk in step with Ashley and Claire while the latter continued to casually talk about nuances to the handbook rules that Amelia probably wouldn’t have picked up on simply by reading them. “Of course, there are exceptions for prefects,” she said, “We’re often running behind, as it’s easy to get caught up dealing with difficult students like you. Technically, we’re never fully off duty. If I see something, it’s suddenly my problem.” “And you never abuse that to sleep in or show up to class late? Or both?” Ashley smirked. She let out a dramatic sigh and mimicked Claire’s voice, “Sorry, teach. I had to write up 69 infractions before leaving my dorm. It took so much out of me.” “For the 69th time, I don’t swing that way,” Claire rolled her eyes, “Although FYI, Millie, boys aren’t allowed into any of the dorm buildings. They can visit you on campus, but it’s strongly encouraged for them to remain in public spaces. Weekday afternoons technically work, although most people prefer weekends for family, friends, significant others . . . ” Amelia only passively listened as they stepped into the dining hall. Not only was she starving, but the rules about visitors were hardly a concern for her. The second she had access to the outside world, her only focus was going to be getting off campus. Also, she wanted breakfast. Transfer student or not, she still needed food, and all the nearby trays she spotted all looked so good thanks to her current state. Westridge was also one of the highest rated schools in the region for meals, although that was hardly a fair fight when there were only so many private schools in her state or the surrounding ones. It’s not that the average public school didn’t try, but they only had so much budget to work with. Amelia mostly brought her own lunch to school growing up; it was healthier, and also gave her the option to snack here and there, especially during the semesters where she got screwed over with a terrible lunch window. “Speaking of which,” Claire said, “Duty calls! I’ll hop in line in a few. Good to take her the rest of the way, Ashley?” “Of course, Ms. Claire. I can handle my little cousin. You won’t be any trouble at all, will you Millie?” “No, Ashley. I won’t be any trouble.” Playing it safe, Amelia answered like a ‘proper Westridge girl.’ It still felt excessive to echo close to the same thing asked of her, but she would do anything to get these two girls off her back. The sooner she could shake them, the better. With that in mind, it was simply better to play the role as best as she was able. While reading the entire handbook in one sitting had resulted in staying overnight–not really, since Amelia was certain that Ashley would have found a way to delay things one way or another–her studious self had absorbed a lot thanks to the way she had been tested along the way. Amelia had been a good student her entire life. Although her current circumstances were all kinds of demeaning and humiliating, she was more than capable of pretending to be what she naturally was anyway. Their late arrival put them at the end of a pretty long line, which was mostly made up of older girls who no doubt liked to sleep in. Amelia huffed out a quiet sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted to do was socialize with girls in her alleged grade; she was more than happy to sit back and let Ashley chat instead. The dark haired senior did introduce her once or twice along the way, resulting in more uses of ‘Millie’ and ‘cousin.’ As usual, no one questioned her false age in the slightest. On top of that, Amelia came across way more shy than her actual self. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should have been trying to display that she was a mature adult, but ultimately failed to follow through in that regard. Between her hunger, her embarrassment at being constantly assumed to be nearly ten years younger than she actually was, and her nervousness that Ashley would have a problem with her being anything but ‘thirteen,’ Amelia ended up being rather awkward and soft spoken around Ashley’s peers, and eventually let herself fade into the background as they launched into their weekend plans. Once they made it to the trays, Ashley finally turned her attention back to Amelia. “Alright, Millie. Show me that you can create a well balanced meal for yourself. Not just pancakes and whipped cream, okay?” Amelia blushed and parted her lips to say something in response, only to be cut off by the giggling of the other girls. She was supposed to be thirteen, not five. Even Amelia’s younger self was at least somewhat competent when it came to nutrition. Once she got past the annoyance, however, Amelia considered the idea that Ashley might be doing more than teasing. This could be yet another test that went beyond the academic side of things. From both her research and her personal experiences thus far, Amelia knew that there were plenty of standards for students outside the classroom. And, since it was the weekend, of course there was going to be more focus on stuff like that when possible. Anything that would set Amelia up for failure, as long as Ashley was enjoying the excessive prank/game that she was playing at Amelia’s expense. Test or no test, Amelia wasn’t going to have a problem here. Hungry as she was, it’s not like she was going to stuff her face full of unhealthy foods. The breakfast buffet before her meant that she would get a small breath from Ashley unless the eighteen year old decided to amuse herself by following Amelia’s exact route. Once she had eyes on some of the options, Amelia’s stomach did rumble a little, but she forced herself to do a small lap to check everything out before making any decisions. More for herself than for her ‘cousin,’ Amelia opted for more fruits and vegetables than anything else, although she was most looking forward to the eggs and a couple pieces of meat. It was her first real meal in 24 hours, and it would be nice to have some sustenance before figuring out how to achieve the mission she had in mind. She half expected Ashley to appear and give her selections an informal grade, but it was Claire who ended up finding her next. “Millie!” she waved from just beyond the drinks section. “Over here.” Once Amelia had finished completing her tray with a glass of water, she reluctantly made her way over to the brunette. Even when temporarily separated, it seemed like Ashley and Claire managed to collectively stay attached to her. “I found you a table,” Claire said, “Follow me!” Amelia hadn’t actually considered that part until Claire mentioned it. She had been so focused on food that she was just now taking in the crowded dining hall and thinking about the fact that anywhere she sat would require being more social than how things had been in yesterday’s classes. Facing forward and keeping her head down had been manageable when there was an expectation for everyone to stay quiet and pay attention to the teacher up front. But being the new girl when she didn’t have that buffer . . . By the time she saw where Claire was taking her, however, Amelia’s heart dropped. Literally any other table would have been better. Hell, she would have preferred leaning into the ‘shy new girl’ thing and sitting alone. Anywhere but where she was clearly being led to. The last thing Amelia needed was another face off with Summer. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Teaching Assistant" (70+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Fixed!

Chapter Five For the next half hour or so, he pushed through the opening paragraph of his essay. No coffee. No video games to ease him into the morning. And the lingering embarrassment of everything that had happened since waking up made it rather difficult to focus, as did the thick padding that made him constantly shift and fidget in awkwardness and discomfort. Just when he was settling into a decent rhythm, Vanessa called from the kitchen, “Elliott! Breakfast time!” “Great,” he muttered to himself. While doing schoolwork first thing in the morning was stupid, he was still frustrated at being interrupted the moment he started making progress. In his mind, the sooner he finished writing his essay, the sooner Vanessa would lay off the whole micromanaging thing. And, of course, start treating him his actual age. He still had no idea if this was some weird babysitting tactic, or if she was just used to watching younger charges and was failing to adjust to a guy who was technically an adult. Breakfast was more or less what he would have made for himself, save for the bowl of fruit that took a little more effort. He grabbed the plate of eggs and toast, planning on heading back to his essay in the same way he often took meals up to his gaming PC, until Vanessa told him to sit down. “Meals should be eaten in the kitchen, Elliott,” she lectured him, “You don’t want to make a mess in the living room, do you?” He bit his tongue about how his parents didn’t care about stuff like that; they had never been the kind of family that limited themselves to the kitchen and the dining room when it came to snacks and meals. At the same time, he knew it wasn’t worth fighting Vanessa on this. If she could make him take a bath with her assistance, she would have no issue insisting on something far more simple. At this point, Elliott needed to both bide his time and pick his battles. The better he behaved, including not arguing, the more she’d start seeing him as someone who didn’t need constant management. Apparently they weren’t going to be eating in silence, either. Once they were both seated at the table, Vanessa said, “So, tell me about school. Any favorite classes? Stressed about one of your exams in particular?” For a moment, Elliott was annoyed he was being asked about his academics. He’d be far more inclined to talk about video games, the occasional extracurricular, and so on. But then he realized this was a good opportunity to shove the fact that he was a college student in Vanessa’s face. Maybe the look at his Intro to Religion syllabus hadn’t been enough of a reminder. Because in general, undergrad classes had names that were more distinct than some of the classes he had taken as a teenager. The only problem with her questions was that he didn’t really have much to say about the semester. He was only in college because his parents pushed it as something that he was supposed to do. As long as he got a degree, his grades really didn’t matter to him. Still, he could at least list off the classes and give an overview of what he still needed to get done. Kind of pointless, when Vanessa had already looked through what he was responsible for during her stay, though Elliott still tried to hit everything for the sake of making her view him as someone mature enough to get ready for bed by himself. If anything had changed from Vanessa’s perspective, it didn’t show as she ate her breakfast and politely listened to everything he needed to get done before the end of the semester. When he was done, she smiled and said, “It’s a good thing I’m here to keep you on task, then. And what about your accidents? Tests are stressful. You might want to wear diapers to class, just in case.” He flushed slightly at the mental image of going to class while diapered, when there was no way in hell he planned on even leaving the house in his current state. “I don’t need diapers,” he muttered. Saying the word out loud was embarrassing, too. “Never heard that before,” Vanessa giggled, “But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Just make it until tomorrow without an accident, and you can wear your big boy underwear again.” “Whatever,” he muttered. While he was still physically attracted to the redhead, he wasn’t at all into her patronizing attitude, even if she was rather gentle and casual about everything she said. At this point, he was more concerned with getting her to back off than anything else; he was more than capable of passing his classes and doing everything he normally did at home without a hovering babysitter. Once breakfast was over, hovering is exactly what she did. Elliott got a few minutes of solitude in the living room while Vanessa was doing the dishes, and then she joined him with a book in her hand. While he’d take her lounging in the nearby armchair over actively treating him like a child, he still would have been more productive if he could have the whole space to himself. Little by little, he chipped away at his essay. Five pages wasn’t too bad for a paper; the only reason he spent so long on each section was because it was worth a higher percentage of his grade than some of the other assignments he had rushed through over the semester. And, ideally, finishing one of his four tasks of the weekend would earn him some independence. As he was getting started on the last paragraph, Vanessa broke the productive silence that had settled in for a while. “Do you need the bathroom, Elliott?” “What? No,” he said. If he did need to relieve himself, he would simply get up and do so like the young adult he was. There was no reason for Vanessa to check in on something like that. “Hmm. Okay,” she shrugged, “You’ve just been fidgeting a lot. I thought you might need to go.” That was just because he was wearing a diaper. It wasn’t his fault that the padding underneath his ass made it difficult to get comfortable. “Well, I don’t,” he snapped, sounding more like a petulant child than he realized. “Elliott!” she sternly replied, “That’s no way to talk to your babysitter. Your mother warned me that you might have an attitude issue this weekend. Maybe a time-out will help. Go stand in the corner for five minutes, young man.” Vanessa pointed to a spot within her sightline, so she could continue watching him from where she was. Was she being serious? He was way too old for a punishment like that, just like he was way too old for most of what Vanessa had put him through so far. The phrase ‘young man’ definitely wasn’t an acknowledgement of his actual age, either; that was more a patronizing way people referred to boys. “I’m almost done with my essay,” he replied, trying to stand his ground, “And I’m not a fucking child. You can’t-” Vanessa gasped. “ELLIOTT. Language!” Reacting as if he actually was a child who just used a swear word, she practically leapt out of her chair and grabbed his wrist. Forcefully yanking him up, nearly causing his laptop to fall off the coffee table as it was jostled in the process, she began dragging him towards the door to the first floor hallway. “You do not use words like that in this house. Or ever! You’re such a bad little boy.” The moment he attempted to say something in his defense, she cut him off. “NO. I don’t want to hear a single word out of that dirty mouth of yours. You were being so good today, too. What happened?!” What happened was that Elliott reached his breaking point with that time-out suggestion. It was one thing for Vanessa to push him to study and work on his papers, when that’s something he was planning on getting around to anyway. On Sunday afternoon, rather than Saturday morning, but still. What he didn’t need was a slap on the wrist for standing up for himself, or a demeaning punishment designed for boys way younger and less mature than he was. Before he knew it, Vanessa was pulling him into the bathroom. She was surprisingly strong for a girl, though he was mostly blaming his weakness on the small height advantage she had on him as well as the element of surprise where this assertive yanking was concerned. As for her perception of him, it probably didn’t help that he was wearing athletic shorts and a plain t-shirt while she was more dressed up. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror, the contrast between them was a bit more dramatic than he expected. However, that didn’t change the fact that he very clearly was too big for her to mistake him as a boy who needed help in the bath or someone who needed to be disciplined for every little thing. Not hesitating in the slightest, Vanessa grabbed the bar of soap next to the sink and shoved it into his mouth. “We need to clean that dirty mouth of yours,” she said, “This is what happens to bad little boys who use foul language. Do you understand, Elliott?” He was not prepared for the punishment in the slightest. Trying to protest at the last second only made it easier for Vanessa to push the soap in, at which point his words came out as a garbled mess. The oval bar was too big for his mouth, which didn’t deter Vanessa in the slightest. Rather than leaving it in, like she might have done had the soap been a different size, she proceeded to ‘scrub’ his mouth in order to clean away the language she had been berating him about. “Mm mmgphh!” Elliott exclaimed. He attempted to shove Vanessa’s arm away, only for her to swat his hand away. She had no problem manhandling him, getting them into a position against the counter where she could continue working the soap while simultaneously dealing with his squirming. The bitter taste quickly overwhelmed his senses and, thanks to what Vanessa was doing with the bar, it wasn’t long before the movements against his teeth caused bits and pieces to scrape from the soap and collect in his gums and below his tongue. Gagging at the taste and the awful sensations, he shook his head and tried to tell her to stop. “Ihgh nakh mmfgh!” he begged. Not relenting in the slightest, Vanessa shoved the bar deep into Elliott’s mouth before asking, “No more bad words?” Elliott quickly shook his head again, this time to answer her question rather than in an attempt to express his discomfort. “Are you going to behave from now on?” she pressed, “I have to give a report to your mommy when she gets back, Elliott. I’d love to tell her that you were a good little boy all weekend.” Again, Elliott hastily responded with a nonverbal affirmation, nodding about his behavior. His mouth was full of suds at this point, and he was blushing deeply at the way Vanessa was talking to him. She wasn’t even being mean about it. This was just a babysitter being direct while punishing her charge, and once again failing to see that he wasn’t like the younger boys she normally watched. “I hope you mean it, Elliott,” she said, “You had your chance to be a big boy. For the rest of the day, I’m going to treat you like the bad little boy you’ve been acting like. That means no screen time, constant supervision, and an earlier bedtime. Tomorrow, you can decide what kind of boy you want to be.” As in, she had been treating him like a ‘big boy’ up until now. That’s not what it had felt like, though perhaps the bedwetting incident had shifted things from how the morning could have otherwise gone. Either way, one little swear word had cost him an entire day’s worth of trust, when he had been working so hard to prove his maturity. Surely a paper written by a college boy was more meaningful than a single bad word. After a few more rough motions with the bar of soap, Vanessa removed it from his mouth and demanded, “Now promise me that you’re going to behave from now on.” Elliott was a total mess in the face of everything he had just been put through. Not quite crying, though there was some eye water from the bitter suds and the situation in general. His cheeks were dark red from both embarrassment and all the squirming since he had been dragged into the bathroom, and his mouth was still full of bits and pieces of soap. “I- I promise,” he mumbled, gagging slightly as he accidentally swallowed a bit of the stuff. Then, out of nowhere, he felt it. A small squirt of pee that immediately created a patch of warmth and wetness against his crotch. It was enough of a surprise that he ended up releasing a bigger burst into the padding. Just like that, he was seconds away from actually wetting himself, and worried that saying as much to Vanessa would lead to her finding out what he just did. He had been telling the truth earlier about how he hadn’t needed to go. Was it the stress and/or the humiliation of Vanessa disciplining him like this? Elliott was too flustered by everything to start thinking about that. Vanessa hadn’t seemed to notice anything. “That wasn’t fun for me, Elliott,” she calmly said, “I don’t like punishing boys. But it’s really up to you how this weekend goes, okay?” Gesturing to the sink, she added on, “You can rinse out your mouth. When you’re done, I’ll take you back to your homework.” Sure enough, she was already following through on her assertion about constantly supervising him. Head still spinning about how a guy his age had just been subjected to something like that, Elliott bent over to awkwardly drink from the sink. He remained nervous and indecisive about how to deal with the now slightly dirty diapers, and it was taking a conscious effort to keep himself from letting go. The first sip had the opposite effect from what he expected. Instead of things getting better, his mouth lathered up with foam from how the suds reacted to the water. Coughing and gagging from the sudden wave of bitterness, Elliott’s focus drifted enough that he forgot about the self control that mattered most at the moment He started peeing for real, unable to stop once he started. Praying that the running water at the sink would be enough to mask the fact that he was wetting himself right in front of Vanessa, he continued rinsing his mouth out and pretending like nothing was wrong beyond the obvious. So much for not needing diapers. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 37 ‘No. Just say ‘no.’ Even if she thought I was Miley, even if she thought I was thirteen, it was insane to suggest that I should wear pull-ups during the day. Absolutely insane. And yet, I found myself reluctantly muttering, “Okay.” Because if I had to guess, it didn’t have anything to do with the chances–which were zero–of me wetting myself this morning. Noelle was merely leaping at an opportunity to get rebellious, authority-disrespecting Miley to behave. And with Paige around, Noelle’s plan was admittedly perfect. I wasn’t about to step out of line and risk my step-sister realizing what I was wearing underneath my shorts. If I ended up getting spanked in front of Paige again, there would be no hiding the pull-ups, plus Noelle had already implied that she might not stay quiet about my little accident if I gave her reason to punish me. Either way, I would need to be careful. Wait, could I even wear these shorts? They were pretty snug and, though I wasn’t really familiar with the babyish underwear she was planning on putting me into, I knew they wouldn’t be as thin as the panties I currently had on. “Good,” she nodded, speaking up before I could think too many things through, “Why don’t you undress in the bathroom? I’ll be right back.” Not a discussion. Without waiting to confirm whether or not I was planning on listening to her, she turned and left my bedroom. At least she closed the door behind her this time around. Sighing to myself, I only hesitated for a few seconds before returning to the bathroom. I couldn’t see a way out of this unique babysitting tactic, which meant my best course of action was to suck it up for a few hours while I tried to figure out what my next move was. The wet clothes crumpled in the corner were another reminder of why Noelle deemed it appropriate to put me in underwear designed for girls far younger and less mature than even Miley. I knew that every second of delaying the inevitable would make it that much more difficult to make myself get started. At least stripping off dry shorts and underwear was far more natural and familiar to me than what I had to awkwardly deal with before my shower. I had never really done the babysitting thing myself. The extent of my experience was a single job I had taken for a family down the road, and that was only because their mother was desperate and I was available that evening and a two minute walk away from their house. All I really had to do was make them pasta and tell them when it was time for bed. Other than that, they were fine doing their own thing for the most part. The point was, I didn’t know what to expect when it came to pull-ups. Based on the name, I was hoping that just meant that I would have to pull them up. As in, Noelle didn’t need to be involved in the process. Putting them on, period, was going to be bad enough. Just seconds after I set my clothes down by the sink, I heard Noelle return. That was fast. Then again, she would probably be staying in the guest room down the hall, so she wouldn’t have had far to go. There was a reason I left the bathroom door cracked the slightest bit; moving quickly now that I knew I was no longer alone, I grabbed the nearest hand towel when I realized I had left my full one in the other room. On the off chance that she came in without knocking, I didn’t want to be standing there bottomless. “Miley?” she called out, “Are you all set for your temporary protection?” Not in the slightest. And though she had made a point to close the door behind her the last few times, I couldn’t help but worry about it while I didn’t have eyes on that part of my bedroom. “Umm, yeah,” I replied. “I hope so,” Noelle said, “We’re already behind schedule. Now, I’m going to pass in a pull-up for you to try on, okay? If it fits, you’re going to come out here for me to double check that it’s the right size.” As in, I was going to have to leave the bathroom in just pull-ups below my waist? I would have preferred to put my shorts back on right away, though I was also a little desensitized to Noelle seeing me in various immature/embarrassing states. It was a lot better than Paige being present for something like this, and I had also learned since Noelle’s arrival that picking my battles was crucial when faced with a babysitter who was hired for a girl like Miley. “Okay,” I muttered. Cracking the door another couple inches while making sure to keep my half naked body fully behind it, I waited for Noelle to hold out the less than ideal underwear option she retrieved for me. I had been anticipating something white, like the diapers I occasionally saw in commercials or on the rare baby or toddler in real life. The light pink of the pull-ups came as a surprise. A quiet “Thank you” escaped my lips before I could help it. Blushing as my polite instincts caused me to express gratitude for something I had no desire for, I quickly closed the bathroom door and huffed out a sigh. Best to rip the band-aid off, right? I tentatively unfolded the pull-up, liking it even less when I felt how heavily padded the lower section was. It was pink, and bulky, and definitely closer to diapers than it was to panties. The only parallel that it had with the latter was that putting on the pull-up required stepping into the leg holes to put it on. Noelle’s read on my size had been spot on, too. The only point of resistance was when I had to wriggle the babyish underwear over my ass, and even that didn’t take very much before it was situated on my hips. Adjusting the awkward and unfamiliar thing here and there, cringing at the padding between my thighs that was impossible to ignore, I reluctantly turned towards the mirror to check myself out. The teenager looking back at me was definitely not the Alyssa I knew. Honestly, I would rather have been naked. I was at least used to seeing my nude self after any given shower. But with slightly unkempt hair from how I slept on it, not a trace of make-up on my face, a training bra that flattened my chest, and nothing but a thick pull-up on my lower half, I couldn’t deny that I looked younger than eighteen. I still felt that my reflection resembled a girl who was closer to fourteen or fifteen, though I guess I could see how Noelle was mistaking me for thirteen year old Miley. Just like I was an older girl who looked younger than I was, there were plenty of teenagers who looked mature for their age. Regardless, it was hardly a win to be perceived as a middle school girl who looked a year or two older than she actually was. “Almost done, Miley?” Noelle asked through the door. “Uh huh,” I told both her and the girl in the mirror. Stalling wouldn’t do me any favors. So, after taking a deep breath and giving myself a firm look, I opened the door. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (85+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter Three The pigtails had done a number of Taylor’s long hair, and he didn’t have running water to deal with the mess thanks to how the water was currently shut off for the ongoing renovations. All he could do was force a brush through his dark locks in an attempt to get them back to how they usually looked. It wasn’t actually that big of a deal, now that he was safe in the privacy of his room. He and Anna weren’t particularly close as siblings, and their parents being out of town so often meant that the only time he might be seen was when he went downstairs to figure out dinner. Besides, she had seen him with unkempt hair in the mornings; the only reason he was hesitant to run into her right now was the lingering nervousness from sneaking through the house, as well as the reason why he looked slightly different than he usually did after school. Anna probably wouldn’t be that perceptive, though she would also be more familiar with hair stylings than he was. Taylor also had to make a trip down to the basement to look through the boxes of old clothes that their parents hadn’t donated or thrown away. Though he was specifically looking for Anna’s old dresses, as of course his younger sister was taller than him at this point, that search was one thing he wasn’t worried about. If Anna decided to come down to the basement herself for whatever reason, Taylor would hear the door open and have plenty of time to stash her stuff away and pretend he was there for something else. The part that made him embarrassed was that he had to find an outfit Sarah would approve of, panties included. There were a lot of pinks and purples, many of them with girly scripts, flowers, or other immature designs. He eventually found a simple dress that was solid purple, which would have to do. As for underwear, he settled on a white/pink pair of BARBIE panties. That was close enough to what he had been caught in that afternoon. Since all of his stuff was back at the school, there were a few other complications. He couldn’t work on homework, not that he took school that seriously when baseball was a better use of his time. Taylor also didn’t have his backpack, and needed a way to discreetly transport the girly outfit he was going to be changing into after his last class of the day. And then there was the matter of how he was going to get to school in the first place, as that would be quite the walk. The backpack thing was the easiest fix. It was just a matter of looking through more boxes in the basement and finding one of his old bags. His tastes for darker colors hadn’t changed much since his early teenage years, so the alternative backpack wasn’t the worst. Once that was sorted, he just had to ask Anna to ask one of her friends if he could ride with them tomorrow. A senior guy, being driven to school with a bunch of sophomores. Sarah and her friends were popular enough, which helped, but still. He just had to explain why he couldn’t drive himself. Waiting until the next morning wasn’t a good idea, either. There was a chance all of the seats were already taken, in which case he’d have to figure something else out. Taking the bus had crossed his mind, except he had no idea what the schedule was or where the closest stop to their house was. So he reluctantly knocked on Anna’s door, ultimately giving up on his earlier plan to avoid her for the whole night. Anna didn’t comment on his hair, nor did she seem to notice or care. However, she was predictably difficult about his request. “I’m pretty sure the last time I asked you for a ride to my friend’s house, you laughed in my face. Why can’t you drive yourself, anyway?” It was more of a scoff, but still. Going with the best lie he had come up with before approaching her, Taylor explained how he and his friends drove together to hang out after school, and swinging back to get his car was too much of a pain once there was traffic. “Uh huh,” Anna said, crossing her arms, “I still don’t see how this is my problem.” After a little more back and forth, Anna offered a compromise. She was enjoying the fact that her older brother was relying on her for something, but also wanted to be careful that she wouldn’t get in trouble for being the reason he didn’t make it to school. And, unlike him, she wasn’t a brat who enjoyed picking on easy targets. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, “But you’re going to give me $20 for gas, and treat all of us to coffee on the way. Deal?” He reluctantly agreed. That was a good chunk of his monthly allowance, though he also had a credit card for emergencies, baseball expenses, etc. The following morning, Taylor stuffed everything he needed into his old backpack. Dress, panties, Mary Janes, and the hair ties for the pigtails he’d be in later. He knew no one would be going through the bag, yet he still felt the need to cover up the girly clothes with one of his baseball uniforms. That, and he was still holding onto the slim hope that Sarah would let him off the hook and he’d be able to go to practice like he was supposed to. When Anna’s friend arrived to pick them up, she made it clear right away that she wasn’t impressed that their school’s star pitcher was getting into her car. To her, Taylor was simply Anna’s obnoxious older brother. “My car, my rules,” she said, as the two siblings got into the back of her hand-me-down sedan, “No talking unless one of us asks you something, or I’ll pull over and let you out. Cash for coffee and gas?” She held out her hand expectantly. He couldn’t believe a sophomore was talking to him like that. And that she was getting away with it. Her little power trip did make a little bit of sense, as she wasn’t someone Taylor could target later for revenge. Between her confidence and the fact that she was one of Anna’s friends, she knew how much she could get away with while Taylor was relying on her for a ride. “My wallet is at school,” Taylor admitted. “Anna?” she asked. “I’ll pay for now,” Anna shrugged, “Taylor will pay me back later, plus interest. As long as he admits that sophomores girls are better than senior boys.” Suddenly, all three girls were staring at him. Feeling put on the spot, though alert enough to make sure none of them had their phones recording him, he begrudgingly muttered the phrase. Repeating it word for word in a flat tone made it so it was obvious that he didn’t mean it, though the girls still giggled in amusement. Once they were done having fun taking advantage of the rare situation where Anna’s older brother needed something from them, everyone basically pretended like he didn’t exist. Taylor didn’t mind being ignored, though having his phone would have been a nice distraction from the giggles and all the girly conversations he didn’t care about. All three girls ordered large specialty drinks, splurging more than they normally would since Anna would be fully reimbursed later. Then they headed to the school, where Anna’s friend pulled over half a block from the parking lot. “You can get out here, Taylor!” she said, “Do you need a ride after school?” No, he didn’t. As for being dropped off in a less convenient spot, that was fine. He didn’t need to be seen carpooling with them, just like they didn’t want to be seen doing a favor for some jock. As Taylor crossed the nearby intersection and made his way towards the school, he slowed down to check on his own car . . . It was nowhere to be seen. Had it been towed? Maybe. That, or he was mis-remembering where he had parked it the previous day, and just couldn’t spot it amidst all the other vehicles. Students didn’t get reserved spots, so it was always first come/first served each morning. He didn’t have time to investigate, as the warning bell meant that he only had five minutes to swing by his locker and get to his first class. Thanks to the mortifying events of the previous day, as well as how Sarah took him directly home after daycare, Taylor hadn’t done any schoolwork. That wasn’t completely out of character for him, since he and his friends would often hang out after baseball practice and shirk all of their responsibilities. Still, he usually found time to at least do the bare minimum, like burning through a simple assignment at breakfast or cramming for an upcoming quiz. The school day was normal enough; once he was sitting with his teammates in first period, Taylor gradually settled into the familiar routine. Talking about the upcoming game, picking on a couple of the usual targets, and generally being immature boys between classes and at lunch. He didn’t say anything about how he was going to have to miss practice later; his excuse was pretty weak, and he didn’t want someone to mention it to their coach before the end of the day. Instead, he waited until the end of PE before turning to one of the guys and lying about how his parents screwed up and scheduled an appointment for him on the wrong day. Naturally, they told him to blow it off and come to practice instead. If something like that actually did happen, that’s exactly what Taylor would do. But since he needed to satisfy Sarah’s conditions, he just came up with some bullshit about how it was important and that rescheduling stuff like that was a total chore thanks to how his parents were out of town so often. Learning his lesson from before, Taylor didn’t shower right away. His friends hadn’t shared any knowing glances or said anything about the prank, which made him think it was some random classmate who thought it would be funny. Either way, he waited until the area was mostly cleared out and, this time around, had a spare set of clothes secured in his locker as an extra precaution. He also wasn’t going to put on panties and a dress in the boys’ locker room. After drying off, he grabbed his stuff and made his way to the bathrooms just around the corner from where the daycare room was. Bracing himself for the awkwardness, he called into the girls’ bathroom, “Anyone still in here?” If there was, he planned on darting into the other bathroom and letting the person(s) think it was a janitor checking. Luckily for Taylor, it was empty. He tentatively stepped into the opposite gender’s restroom, quickly scanning the stalls to make sure some shy girl had failed to speak up or whatever. Once he was sure it was clear, he darted into the far stall and hung his backpack on the hook before stripping down. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this. Putting on an old pair of his sister’s panties, followed by a childish dress. And, finally, swapping out his shoes for the Mary Janes he had been given yesterday. It wasn’t too late. He could still change into his baseball gear and go to practice, and tell his teammates that he decided to skip his fake appointment. Sarah’s leverage on him was too damning, however, and degrading himself for the second day in a row was the only way to make sure no one else saw it. The ‘girl’ in the mirror was an embarrassing sight. Taylor knew he was a guy, which meant he could see that it was a short male in a dress looking back at him. But he could also see how Ms. Hamilton and the others so easily believed he was a younger girl. Between his height, his long hair, and his barely existent body hair, the dress that he was wearing easily sealed the deal in terms of making him look like a girl who belonged in daycare. Doing his best to will the blush away, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the girls’ bathroom. At least he had his stuff this time. Life after daycare would be a lot easier now, even if it made him a little nervous to have identification and high school assignments stashed in his bag. But Ms. Hamilton had no reason to go through his things; as long as Taylor didn’t take out his actual assignments, like some of the other girls did, he’d be fine. He hesitantly turned the corner, walking towards the classroom of girls and bracing himself for another afternoon of daycare. Right away, he thought Ms. Hamilton was going to figure out that he didn’t actually belong there and start asking questions. To his surprise, she simply greeted him with a smile and checked his name on the sign-in sheet. As in, there was a name to check off. Before he could dwell on that, Sarah was sauntering over. “Taylor!” she exclaimed, “So good to see you again.” Her smile wasn’t quite as friendly. “Come on, I can do your hair.” With that, she took his hand and walked him to a desk near the opposite corner of the room. At this point, only around half of the girls had arrived, giving them plenty of time to get sorted. “You should really learn how to do this yourself, by the way. Pigtails are perfect for a little girl like you. Maybe your older sister can teach you?” Taylor simply sat there and allowed the nerdy girl to braid his hair. From here on out, any talking he did would have to be in a feminine tone, so he only planned on talking unless absolutely necessary. As badly as he wanted to ask about how his name had been added to the list, or say something about how he was not a little girl, he opted to stay quiet. Of course, Sarah wasn’t going to make it that easy. “You’re wearing panties, right?” With how she was positioned behind him during the braiding process, she could speak close to his ear and keep anyone else from overhearing their conversation. Grateful that he was facing away from the girl, Taylor blushed and gave a small nod. “Good,” she giggled, “Where did you get them? You better not be wearing the same pair as yesterday.” Taylor tensed up. Would Sarah know if he was lying? She gave him a ride home, and there wasn’t a store that was particularly close to his house. There was a good chance she already had an idea of how he acquired panties between then and now. Clearing his throat, doing his best to recreate the girly voice from yesterday, he meekly said, “My sister . . . ” “Wow, really?” Sarah asked, “What did Anna say when you asked to borrow her panties?” It- It wasn’t like that! “Umm, she didn’t,” Taylor muttered. He gave a brief yet awkward explanation as to how he found some of her old clothes. Sarah just smirked, reveling in how the tables were totally turned on the jock that usually bullied her and so many others. “You’re such a freak, Taylor. Going through your sister’s underwear. Dressing up like a little girl. Did you wear Anna’s panties all day?” Taylor merely shook his head. No, he just changed into all of this. As for the rest, he was in no position to defend himself. It did sound bad out of context, even though they both knew he was only doing this because he had to. Regardless, it would be better if Sarah stopped referencing his sister, who had nothing to do with this. “Huh. That’s no fun,” Sarah replied, “From now on, I want you in panties 24/7. You clearly like wearing them, and it will remind you that you secretly wish you were a girl despite how you pretend otherwise at school.” “No, you said-” Taylor started, cutting himself off as he tried to remember what exactly Sarah had said. The whole thing was kind of a humiliating blur, outside of her insistence that he show up again to daycare. Still, the point was that he was only supposed to deal with this for another afternoon. “I said you needed to decide,” Sarah giggled again, giving his completed pigtail a flick, “You chose daycare. Besides, I already went through the trouble of getting you registered. If you don’t show up, Ms. Hamilton is going to call your sister to verify that you’re not coming. We can re-negotiate some of this stuff after daycare on Friday, okay? Until then, you’re only allowed to wear panties.” Until Friday?! He couldn’t skip that many practices! Not to mention the rest of it. That his name was on the list because Sarah had registered him, the implication that Anna’s number was used for contact information, and the suggestion that he should wear panties to class. “Sarah-” “Shush, Tay-Tay.” As she finished up the second braid, she gripped both of them and gave a rough tug. “You think picking on girls is funny? Now you can see what it’s like to be a girl who gets pushed around.” “But-” he started to protest. “I said shush,” Sarah murmured, with another sharp tug, “It’s up to you, girl. We could make it two weeks of daycare. Or you can agree that you deserve to wear panties through Friday. Which would you prefer?” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "From Taylor to Tay-Tay" (10+ parts) and other exclusive stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

CHAPTER ELEVEN Mckenna I was still in awe that my plan actually worked. Seriously. When registering Madeline at the last minute, I never expected her to actually be a ‘camper’ for longer than half a day at most. After all, I decided to tell her before she got on the bus, to see what she would do. Let me leave for the summer with her cell phone and figure out how to get home without a ride, or head to camp with the rest of the Fireflies in an attempt to call my bluff. Well, not bluff. I hadn’t been kidding about how she was a camper, rather than a counselor. Against all odds, however, she ended up going along with everything with very little interference on my end at the beginning. As a returning counselor, I had responsibilities to attend to pretty much the second we arrived. All I really did on my sister’s behalf was mention to a few girls that Maddie was a first time camper. From there, I trusted them to treat her just like they’d treat any other tween who wasn’t particularly enthusiastic to be spending a chunk of her summer at camp. She certainly wasn’t unique in that regard; there were plenty of girls who preferred the indoors, and were thrown in the deep end by their parents in the hopes that some sunshine and physical activity would be good for them. Usually, it was. Later, when little Maddie insisted on a private conversation with me, I learned that she had been under the impression that this was some kind of hazing that she was going through as a new counselor. Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face when she suggested that. Mostly because I was literally the only counselor who knew her real age. While I very much trusted girls like Alex and Pixie, I also knew that the safest way to keep a secret was to not tell a soul. That, and getting my sister to suck it up and continue her camper experience was a more interesting challenge if I didn’t have anyone helping me. At least, that’s what I told myself at the beginning. As I lounged in my bed at the end of the first full day at camp, much more comfortable sharing a room with Alex in the counselor building than Maddie would be in a cabin with a bunch of immature campers, I started thinking about how to make this more fun for myself. While I did enjoy watching my dear sister experiencing countless activities that were a far cry from how she normally spent her time, I really needed to make the most out of the eleven or so days I had left to mess with her. This was the first and last time I’d ever get a chance like this. Brainstorming for a good hour or two, tossing and turning as I amused myself with ideas that spanned from incredibly simple to wildly complex, I eventually managed to drift off after landing on one or two things I could start with that would instantly complicate things for my dear sister. The next morning, my mind was racing the moment I woke up, making it impossible to roll back over and get a little more rest. Whatever. I was used to being sleep deprived as a camp counselor, plus I wasn’t on curfew duty later. I started the day with my usual effort to break into Madeline’s phone. She didn’t have a limit to how many passwords someone could try before being pushed into longer increments between attempts. I started with 1000 when I had a few minutes to myself on the drive up, assuming her password wouldn’t start with a zero, and had yet to reach 2000. Mostly since I didn’t care that much. It was a good way to mindlessly kill time here and there, and my main goal was finding something interesting on the device that would deter her from completely killing me at the end of summer. I was also banking on her cooling off over a month or two, since she’d be leaving camp after two weeks while I’d be staying the whole time. Alex woke up eventually, at which point I finally got out of bed and started getting ready for the day. She really was the perfect roommate. We got along socially, but we also knew how to shut up and stay out of the others’ way. As much as I loved being a camp counselor, being ‘on’ for more than twelve hours could be exhausting at times. Some nights, quietly reading or trying to hack my sister’s phone was better than talking. We were both night shower girls, at least at camp, so it was really just a matter of getting dressed and running through a quick morning routine in the bathroom. Unlike the campers, who only had to get up and head to breakfast, us counselors had a lot more to do behind the scenes than the girls probably knew. When I was a Firefly, I certainly hadn’t known how involved it was to run things. While the girls were pretty good at waking up before breakfast, mostly because a cabin full of campers made it difficult to keep sleeping when the confined space got less and less quiet in the morning, I still had to make sure there weren’t any stragglers in my circle. Then, rather than heading straight to the mess hall, a number of us were responsible for making sure everything was set for the day’s ranked game, as well as double checking other stations for the activities that came afterwards. Luckily for me, Bailey was still at breakfast by the time I was able to grab a bite. I liked Bailey. She was one of those rare social butterflies who befriended not only outgoing girls like herself, but also made sure the more quiet types were included. Like little Maddie, for instance. Amusingly enough, my sister wasn’t actually that shy. If I had to guess, the combination of pouting in frustration and the general embarrassment of being a camper is what made her more quiet than usual. However, like a number of other campers, Bailey had a bit of a mischievous streak as well. I caught her pulling a few pranks last year, most of which I turned a blind eye to. Part of being a good counselor is knowing when to let girls be girls; being a hardass is no fun, when the whole point of camp is to let loose. I wanted to tap into that side of Bailey, at Madeline’s expense. So, after pulling Bailey aside and telling her roomies that she’d catch up with them in a minute, I explained to the freckled girl that my sister was actually in high school. That she was working on some ‘social experiment,’ and had registered as a camper for the sake of her little project. Naturally, Bailey didn’t believe me. She thought I was joking, which almost made me laugh along with her at the thought of how even being told a version of the truth wasn’t enough for my petite sister to be seen as anything but a twelve year old camper. Of course, I had proof. All I had to do was show her Madeline’s driver’s license and school ID. There was no reason a girl in Bailey’s grade would have fakes like that. Aside from maybe the ability to buy a mature video game, I couldn’t think of a single perk of being ‘seventeen’ at her age. “Wait-” Bailey clearly needed a few seconds to process what I had just proven to her. Though she had only met Maddie a couple days ago, she only had the image of the camper/friend she had been getting to know up until now. I was curious how she’d end up taking this. That was part of why this idea spoke to me, since it was yet another instance of me having rather limited control once I got the ball rolling. Something told me Bailey wouldn’t feel overly betrayed, since she hadn’t known Maddie for very long. Ideally, she’d start screwing with her for the sake of seeing how far the ‘camper’ would go to stay in character. Bailey was perfect, since being roommates with my sister meant constant access, and potentially some evening pranks as well. The real question was whether or not Bailey would tell anyone else, and if that girl(s) would believe her. As for why I was telling this to Bailey in the first place, it had to be something the girl wouldn’t question. “Anyway, Maddie made me swear I wouldn’t tell any of the other counselors. But she didn’t say anything about campers, did she?” That made me a sister who technically kept her word, while happily jumping on an easy loophole. “And this is her experiment, not mine. Personally, I think it would be more fun if she got the real Camp Firefly experience, rather than being treated with new-camper kiddie gloves. You know?” That’s how it went when I was a camper, and still seemed to be the case from my observations as a counselor. Returning campers were the ones who were more into messing with each other, since even stuff like pranks tended to have more of a competitive edge. That only made sense for girls that already knew each other, rather than hazing for no reason or whatever. New campers usually needed at least the first week to get their bearings. “Hmm,” Bailey mused, before summarizing out loud, “So, Maddie is a high schooler? Pretending to be a camper?” “She’s pretty much the smallest girl in her grade,” I shrugged. That was definitely an exaggeration, but whatever. And though my sister wasn’t particularly academic, I added on, “And a bit of a nerd. Trust me, this isn’t her first weird experiment.” Bailey really wasn’t giving much away. She seemed more confused and a bit surprised, rather than amused. Which was fair, when I was trying to avoid sounding too conspiratorial as I spun this story for her. Aside from nudging her to have a little fun with Maddie, since she was actually a big girl who could handle it, I didn’t want to influence her in a way that could get back to me more directly. It was a big enough risk telling her my sister’s real age; if Gwen or anyone else in charge learned that I had kept quiet about this, I’d be in trouble. Honestly, I had no idea what they’d do. It would be fine. The whole reason I decided to risk things with Bailey was because I had thought through how much it would take for anyone else to take it seriously. There had been more absurd rumors than ‘Maddie is actually Kenna’s older sister’ over the years.’ Since Bailey didn’t seem to know what to do with the newfound information about her cabinmate, I gave her enough direction to get her moving. “You should get changed. We’re down at the lake this morning.” I reminded her. Nothing about Maddie specifically. Just where she needed to go next, regardless of all of this, at which point she’d see her teammate in a whole new light. That was also where I was headed in a minute, without needing to worry about changing. I was already wearing my lifeguard red underneath my clothes. Not my favorite swimwear, though I’d take the mature/responsible color over the blindingly pink one piece that Madeline wore yesterday. Unless she borrowed something from another girl, she’d be wearing the amusingly childish swimsuit again this morning, since I had a little fun with her bags before we left our house for camp. I knew exactly what she did and didn’t have compared to what she packed, and I’m sure she had taken inventory by now as well. Running into Pixie on the way, I settled into a bit of small talk with her that I was only half paying attention to. The other half was still focused on dear Maddie. As in, what was going to happen now that Bailey knew? The mystery was part of the fun, of course. For all I knew, Bailey would spend the whole day processing and figuring out how to move forward with the information I had given her. Or she would take one look at my sister and decide she wanted to act immediately and get some kind of prank-y revenge on Maddie for using Fireflies for her ‘experiment.’ Maybe I could find a way to lead a few of Maddie’s activities for the day, to possibly catch whatever Bailey would eventually throw at her. Or, worst case, I could probably coax it out of her the next time she tried to talk about her situation when we both knew that I held all the cards. It was a funny visual, imagining Maddie whining about something a bunch of twelve year old girls did to her. Smirking to myself, and crossing my fingers that Bailey would jump into action sooner rather than later, I walked to the lake with Pixie. Even in that pink one piece, spotting my sister was a tall order due to the sheer quantity of campers who gathered for the ranked games. And, no matter what the rest of the day brought, Madeline was going to have to jump into the lake when it was on the colder side. “What do you think, Pixie? Another rising 8th win?” I asked. That was the safe bet. There was always the chance Madeline’s team would win. I still hadn’t quite figured that part out yet. For now, I was just going to sit back and enjoy the show. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 42 There was nothing to be done about it. The pacifier prevented me from speaking, and my legs were already spread for Kate as she continued the diapering process that was taking so much longer than I had anticipated. I winced as I felt the first puff of powder on my pelvis. It’s not that it even felt bad or anything, but the knowledge of what she was doing made me feel beyond embarrassed. I recognized the smell right away, but never in my wildest nightmares did I think that I’d personally ‘need’ baby powder. Kate’s expression was smug as she continued, but she didn’t have anything new to say. She just kept shaking the light blue bottle. The better way was to put a little into your hand and apply the stuff manually, but I wasn’t about to correct her on that. Her hands had been around my private areas enough. This way ended up creating a bit more of a mess, as I could feel my ass and thighs getting plenty of the powder, too. After another few seconds, I whined into the pacifier and shook my head again. Was she trying to use the whole bottle?! At this point, I was nervous that our cousins might smell the talcum through the diapers. Kate just rolled her eyes, like I was the one being difficult as always. “Hush, Annie,” she said, “And remember to smile. Also, you still have a lot of ‘likes’ to get through before dinner. You do want to be a good little sister in front of the twins, right?” As if being diapered by my own sister and continuing to wear diapers wasn’t enough. And yet, I pushed a fake smile on through the pacifier and nodded my head in agreement. Kate smiled in response, though hers seemed more genuine. Definitely easier to enjoy all this from her end; the younger sister, in a position like this. Even after getting through all of this, and back to my regular underwear and status as her older sister, I doubted I’d ever be able to live the weekend down. I could already imagine her lording this over me forever, which is why I just needed to power through and not give her any more excuses to make it worse. Somehow, I needed to act like none of this bothered me; in that sense, a fake smile was actually advantageous. Though one way or another, I doubt she’d believe an act of indifference at this point. It was pretty clear all of this made me embarrassed and uncomfortable, despite how I technically agreed and went along with it every step of the way. “Almost done, little sis. Hang tight.” For what I hoped was the last time, Kate went back to her little station at the sink and grabbed more diapers and a couple other things. As usual, her body blocked most of my vision. “Okay, Annie. Ass up,” she instructed. The diaper pins in her hand made it easier to see that the diapers she brought back were different from the disposable ones she had been using during the changing process. She must have noticed the recognition in my eyes, since she happily offered up an explanation. “Cloth diapers are more cost effective in the long run,” she said, “Especially for a girl who has so many accidents in the middle of the day.” My eyes narrowed for a split second before I remembered the plan I had quite literally just come up with. Softening my expression, I tried to look more neutral than anything else. Whatever. Diapers were diapers, though I was a little annoyed that she had bought both kinds just so she could clean me on one before wrapping me in the other. Did she actually expect me to reimburse her for both? Although if I was being honest with myself, I was way too vulnerable at the moment. She’d walk all over me if I tried to push back on something like that. For the time being, there was nothing to say one way or another. The recently purchased pacifier was in my mouth, which meant I had to awkwardly suck at it while Kate worked. That was for the better, in a sense. She was the only one that could talk, and a one-sided conversation would move things along. In a way, I was to blame for things dragging out when I first got on the changing table, since I had engaged in whatever things she had brought up. Those words were already blurring in my memory, as the latest things my sister had subjected me to had the majority of my attention. I simply lay still and waited for her to get started. Lifting my rear off the seat, I held myself up and waited for Kate to finish things up. We really had taken a while. If our cousins had decided to come looking for us, and happened to see Kate and I coming out of the bathroom together . . . There were plenty of non-diaper excuses for why I might need help from a fellow girl in private, but none of those would work if they glimpsed any of the things Kate had purchased. “Relax, sis,” Kate said, “Plenty of twelve year olds still need diapers. It’s not a big deal, okay?” She must have mistaken my nervous expression about the twins for the fact that she was about to diaper me. Though I didn’t like the idea of that, either. Why hadn’t I just hopped off the plastic table once I was clean? Oh, right. Kate had a million pictures of me, plus I had made a number of promises to her. I was a girl of my word. “You are twelve, right?” she asked. This again. Faking another smile through the pacifier, I nodded without hesitation. ‘Happy?’ “That’s right,” she grinned. Laying out one diaper, then another, she said, “Twelve years old, for as long as you need your diapers.” A week. Of being Annie, and of being ‘twelve.’ We had gone over this several times, although it was honestly more daunting than it was tedious to hear it again. Where did Kate draw the line? Surely she didn’t expect more of the bubbly attitude I was faking for her and our cousins. There’s no way I could keep that up for multiple days. If anything, I was still holding onto the hope that she would let up about all this and let me off the hook once the weekend was over. “And your name is Annie,” she added on. The third diaper caused a bit of alarm as she placed it on top of the other two. All I did, however, was nod in regards to the nickname. In my mind, it also served as nonverbally affirmation about how she was going about with all this, although that hardly mattered. Kate was the kind of girl who always got what she wanted, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to push back on anything at the moment. I just wanted this to all be done, and would actually have preferred to be diapered just so I wouldn’t have to be bottomless any more. Taking all three layers at once, my sister adjusted the stack for a moment before covering my powdered crotch with the padding. Finally. “Head back, Annie,” Kate said, “It’s rude to stare.” Whatever. It’s not like watching her work was going to change the outcome, and the position wasn’t particularly comfortable for my neck anyway. Still sucking on the pacifier, doing so a bit more naturally due to my nerves and not having anything else to do, I set my head down on the changing table and awkwardly stared at the ceiling. Other than the fact that I was officially being diapered at my age, this was actually the easiest part. Or at least, the quickest. Kate wrapped one side around me and began tightly pinning everything into place. Without any taunting or teasing, she did the same with the other side. The diapers felt a little bit too snug around me, but I wasn’t about to complain about that. Even if I had my voice, I could already picture her response. Something about how they’re supposed to be tight, in case of accidents. “Almost done, little sis,” Kate said. I assumed the last pin was in place, because I heard her place something down. Still looking up, knowing this would all go a lot more smoothly if I continued to cooperate, I held still as she fiddled a little more with the pins. “All done!” she finally exclaimed. Dusting off her hands for dramatic effect, she took a moment to put everything back in one of her shopping bags before stepping over to my upper half. “You really are a good little sister,” she giggled. Leaning over and giving a patronizing peck to my forehead, Kate then took my hand. “Come on, little Annie. Let’s take a look at you!” She helped me off the changing table, and I was plenty grateful it had held my weight the whole time. I’m sure it wasn’t designed for girls my size, even if I was pretty small compared to others my age. Rather than letting me put the shortalls on right away, Kate walked me over to the mirror and used a similar trick from back in the guest room. “Do you really think anyone’s going to believe you’re in college?” There was a reason I went out of my way to hide all my immature features, and Kate really had stripped me of each and every one. My freckles were on display, my hair was up in pigtails, my chest was almost completely flat without the help of one of my bras, and I was SO short next to my sister without the usual lifts/heels I wore. And now I was bottomless, save for triple-thick diapers that made my thighs look noticeably slim. While most girls would probably desire to be that skinny, it only made me feel more self conscious about myself. And, of course, the pacifier didn’t help anything. “I asked you a question, Annie,” Kate said. Apparently she wasn’t being rhetorical. “Do you look anything like a college girl?” Obviously, I knew how small I was. I saw myself every morning in the mirror after a shower. But this was another level with the bulky underwear and the styling I would normally never choose for myself. Blushing, and once again a bit in disbelief as the tween in the mirror stared back at me, I shook my head. No. At the moment, I definitely didn’t look my real age. She just smirked. “Exactly. Now I’ve been, like, the best sister ever. Would any of your friends change your dirty diapers? Would our cousins?” That was an uncomfortable thought. Not even the changing part; I would die if any of my university classmates caught me wearing the bulky underwear I was currently sporting. The twins would be bad, too. Family gossip and all. Kate let go of my hand and pulled the pacifier out of my mouth with the other. “Do you have anything to say, Annie?” ------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Road Trip" (105+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 39 The implied threat worked just as well as it had the previous day. Amelia didn’t know Ashley well enough to call her out on what potentially could just be a bluff. And, while Amelia’s contacts were backed up on her laptop at home, that device wouldn’t particularly help her while she was stuck at the boarding school. So she begrudgingly gave the girls a small smile like she had been coerced to do after she had first learned that she had been set up by them. “Better?” she awkwardly asked, just managing to say it without any annoyance in her tone. “A little shy, but I guess it’s fine,” Ashley nodded, “Anyone would be nervous transferring to a new school, after all. And how old are you again?” “I’m thirteen,” Amelia replied right away. While the answer slipped out effortlessly after all the recent repetition, it still felt wrong. There was nothing to do about it at the moment, however, so she avoided retroactively flinching or correcting the false age. “You’re thirteen years old,” Ashley echoed. She pulled the plaid tie off the hanger and stepped forward to drape it over Amelia’s neck. Looking down into the petite blonde’s eyes, she said, “Hold still, little cousin. This will just take a minute.” “Such a cute thirteen year old,” Claire said, as Ashley got to work. The two senior girls continued their blatant conditioning over the next minute or two. For the entire time Ashley fussed over Amelia’s tie, followed by the blazer, they went back and forth with various iterations of ‘thirteen’ and ‘transfer student’ until they were satisfied that the wannabe teaching assistant had been thoroughly drowned in the phrases. Ashley went so far as to put Millie’s flats on for her, and wasn’t particularly gentle as she forced the snug Lost & Found shoes onto her feet. “We’ll have to order you some new flats,” Ashley commented. Once she was satisfied that the too-tight footwear was in place, she symbolically dusted off her hands and stood back up. “What do you think, Millie? Should we buy you some shoes for your stay here? We order from a shop down the road, although they’re not open over the weekend. But, Monday! You’ll still be here then, right?” Amelia had no idea what to say to that. The actual answer was, ‘of course not.’ Plan A was still to communicate via social media once she had an opportunity to access literally anything with the capability to do so. While a computer was the most obvious option, she had also started thinking about the chances of borrowing a phone or laptop from one of her ‘classmates.’ The latter idea was less ideal, as not many girls were particularly trusting when it came to such personal devices. If someone asked to borrow her laptop, Amelia would be hesitant herself. Even if she agreed, she’d probably be watching over their shoulder. And, considering what she needed the internet for, Amelia couldn’t exactly let someone be watching her every message like that. Also, how long was she going to be here? Plan B involved playing along with Ashley’s humiliating prank until . . . well, that was the problem. They had started having a conversation last night, but it had shifted towards Amelia reluctantly saying all those things about herself. How she was a student, and needed to develop, etc. At best, they had made part of a deal. Amelia was supposed to be making it a whole day without infractions, and with academic excellence. The latter would be simple enough, considering it was Saturday, and avoiding more trouble would theoretically be fine now that she had read the student handbook cover to cover, but then what? Ashley had never clarified what a full day would mean, and now it felt like the wrong time to ask. If they really were running late, although Amelia had no means of verifying that for herself, any requests for a clear answer would likely be shut down. Especially with Claire around, as dealing with both girls at once was far more frustrating. “Of course she’ll still be here,” Claire said, “New students don’t get to leave campus until they prove that they’re responsible and trustworthy. That means no infractions.” “Something you failed spectacularly at yesterday, Millie,” Ashley chuckled, “But it’s a fresh day. I’m sure you’ll do better now that you’ve had a full night’s rest, and now that you know the rules. Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t go through that book before showing up. Pretty sure the website reminds girls about that on, like, every other page for new students.” “Well, looks like she’s about ready! Anything else for your thirteen year old cousin?” “She still has to brush her teeth. Come on, Millie. Hop to it. You don’t want to miss the most important meal of the day, do you?” It’s not like Amelia had to be told to do that part of her morning ritual. She could still feel the fact that she hadn’t done so yet, and that wasn’t something even her thirteen year old self would skip in the morning. And yet, she had to deal with the patronizing reminder even though Ashley had basically dictated the order of things ever since she had let herself in. Even though Amelia had showered and gotten ready for bed in the solitude of the bathroom, apparently she would have to deal with some unnecessary supervision this morning. Her dark haired ‘cousin’ took her hand and tugged her towards the private bathroom, and Claire followed just behind the two of them. When all three of them stood in front of the mirror, Amelia suddenly understood why this had been set up as a group venture. Her reflected self looked SO small when standing between Ashley and Claire. While she knew in the back of her mind that it wasn’t totally fair, as the other two were wearing heels while she was wearing flats, there were too many other factors that piled on to focus on something like that. Amelia was used to seeing her freckles after a shower, but was not at all prepared to see that immature feature of hers paired with a schoolgirl uniform. And, while the outfit wasn’t particularly flattering for her petite frame in general, at least she had some semblance of breasts yesterday. But now, the training bra mostly flattened her chest, and what was left of her small mounds were rendered more or less nonexistent by the combination of the dress shirt and the blazer. In comparison, the two girls flanking her had nearly perfect complexions, and their own uniforms seemed to actually accentuate their curves instead of detracting from them. And, of course, Amelia’s height paled in comparison as she stood between her ‘cousin’ and the similarly aged prefect. They were eighteen and she was twenty-two, students vs. a college graduate who was much more of an adult than them, but that was not at all the story told in the mirror. For all intents and purposes, she looked 100% like the thirteen year old transfer student they were insisting that she was. Easily reading the flush on Amelia’s face, Ashley’s reflection smirked at her. “Still need to develop physically, don’t you? Trust me, Millie. No one’s going to doubt that you’re a student here.” “Literally no one,” Claire giggled, “Face it, Millie. You’re thirteen.” “A thirteen year old transfer student,” Ashley affirmed, “Okay, Millie. Be a good Westridge girl and brush your teeth!” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Teaching Assistant" (70+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter Two Taylor so badly wanted to correct her. He wasn’t a girl. He wasn’t a tween. However, the very fact that Ms. Hamilton assumed both of those things was what kept him from blurting out the truth. What if she knew some of his current teachers? What if the wrong person heard about a dark haired ‘Taylor’ who was mistaken as a little girl? He couldn’t risk it. Plus he couldn’t begin to imagine how she might react if he used his real voice now that he was dressed like this. With that in mind, he squeaked out an awkward, “Mm hmm.” Affirming that he was indeed in fifth grade, or so he’d let her believe for a little bit longer. Luckily, he didn’t have to speak beyond that. Ms. Hamilton filled the silence herself, talking more about the after school program for girls from the adjacent elementary school. There were plenty of games and activities for everyone, though it was perfectly acceptable to simply spend the time working on homework for those that wanted to be done with that by the time they were picked up. It didn’t take long before Taylor’s hair was in pigtails. Easily the worst style for someone who wasn’t actually a girl. “All done,” Ms. Hamilton said, stepping back and commenting on how the braids were much better than how his hair looked before. “All the girls here are really nice,” she said, “But you still might get teased if your hair is a mess. Or, you know, if you’re running around in nothing but your panties. No, I don’t want to know; just promise me it’s not going to happen again.” He blushed again and nodded. Even a small movement like that was enough to make his pigtails shift enough so he noticed them. Between the unfamiliar tightness on his scalp, as he wasn’t used to any kind of braid, as well as how the pigtails were going to continue to bounce and swish slightly whenever he did pretty much anything, he wasn’t going to forget about the girly styling any time soon. Just like that, it was time for him to actually be taken to the classroom down the hall. The point of no return, in a sense, as it wasn’t too late to come clean and walk away. But Taylor had already committed. Now that he was dressed, albeit in something that was barely better than being naked, it would be much easier to sneak off when Ms. Hamilton wasn’t focusing solely on him. He followed her to one of the larger rooms on this side of the school. As he stepped through the door, he could see right away that the space had been transformed from the usual classroom set up. Half the desks were stacked up in the corner to make more space for everyone, while the other half were set up in clusters for the girls to sit together rather than how they were normally lined up with everyone facing the front. There were a good twenty or thirty girls present. Before Taylor could take in much more than that, Ms. Hamilton was calling over a girl who was clearly older than the rest. “Hey, Sarah? Did you check Taylor in? I found her out in the hall.” Taylor recognized the nerdy brunette immediately. They didn’t really know each other, as he was popular and she wasn’t, but she was in a few of his classes. Was it too late to bolt? Now that he was all dolled up, hopefully Sarah wouldn’t recognize him. However, he wasn’t going to be in whatever system they used, which meant his ‘disguise’ would only work so well if they started asking questions. Short of turning around right now and darting out of the room, Sarah was going to see him either way. She walked over, tilting her head slightly. “I think so? Check-in was so hectic today. She’s one of our new girls, right?” “It’s her first day,” Ms. Hamilton said, “Do you mind getting her settled? I need to finish prepping a few more things for this afternoon.” “Not at all!” Sarah smiled, “Come on, Taylor. Let’s introduce you to some of the girls. What grade are you in?” It didn’t seem like Sarah knew who he really was; she was treating him just like any other girl here. Still embarrassing, yet not nearly as bad as it could have been. The bad news was, Taylor had just been asked a question. Aside from awkwardly murmuring a couple of words to Ms. Hamilton earlier, Taylor hadn’t spoken since being caught in panties. His real voice would obviously give him away. At the same time, he had no idea how to sound like a girl. Leaning into Ms. Hamilton’s assumption that he was a more shy and soft spoken girl, Taylor squeaked out a feminine, “Fifth grade.” Blushing furiously, he prayed that he didn’t sound like a guy who was faking it. “Perfect!” Sarah exclaimed, “There’s a spot just for you over there.” She gestured to a clump of four desks, three of which were already taken. The girls were either studying or reading books, since Sarah clearly perceived him as someone who would fit in more with the quiet girls. Objectively, it was ideal, as minimal talking was the best approach at the moment. All Taylor had to do was hang out in daycare until Sarah and Ms. Hamilton were looking the other way. The only minor frustration was that he was a popular guy, and this was the last table he would normally pick. Not that he actually cared, since he had nothing to prove here and nothing in common with anyone in the classroom. He followed Sarah to the spot near the corner, where she briefly introduced the three girls. Thankfully, she included Taylor’s name, meaning he could stay quiet for the time being. The arrival of a new girl didn’t change much. Once Sarah left, the bookish trio returned to quietly reading/working. While Taylor was relieved that he could just sit there without dealing with any smalltalk as a ‘fifth grader’ that would perpetually threaten to give away his gender, he was aware that he looked a bit out of place without anything to do. Since he didn’t have a backpack here like the rest of the girls, as his was back in his gym locker halfway across the building, he was a little bit nervous Sarah or Ms. Hamilton would ask about that. So far, it seemed like they had both forgotten about double checking the list he wasn’t on. As for leaving, Taylor still wasn’t sure when the best time to make his escape would be. The classroom had two doors, which was helpful. He really doubted his ability to run in the Mary Janes, in case he was chased, and he also didn’t want to make a scene. Any number of students and teachers could still be around for whatever extracurriculars were going on today, and the only way he’d safely be able to make it to his locker was if there was some degree of stealth and caution used. That wasn’t going to be possible if Sarah was running after. She was a nerdy girl, and he was definitely faster as a baseball player, though could still draw unwanted attention by calling after him. He was just going to have to bide his time. Maybe there was some game they’d play where he could inch towards one of the doors without being noticed. All throughout his brainstorming process, there was the persistent disbelief that he was actually mistaken as an eleven year old girl by everyone. It was a humiliating low, especially since he had succeeded in overcoming the height thing with his social status. The ‘little girl’ part of it was so much worse, even if he did have long hair. After another few minutes, Ms. Hamilton got everyone’s attention and announced that they were going to start the afternoon with a few different stations. There would be puzzles at one table, arts and crafts at another, a couple different board games for girls that wanted to play, and the usual option to work quietly. None of the options were particularly active, which Taylor had been relying on. Since he didn’t have any homework on him, not to mention how his assignments were for high school classes, it probably wasn’t a good idea to just sit there and do nothing. So, going with the second best antisocial choice, Taylor went to work on a puzzle. The girls at his table were a little more talkative than the previous one. He did his best to avoid conversation, keeping his eyes down and only speaking when absolutely necessary. As the ‘new girl,’ it wasn’t that strange to come across as shy/nervous/etc. Taylor just focused on the colorful butterflies he was slowly putting together on the desk in front of him. Aside from the mental side of things, as he continued to be perceived in such a mortifying manner, there was also the physical he had to deal with. He was wearing a /dress./ Panties, too. His downward gaze also meant he constantly glimpsed the girly shoes as well. It was all so uncomfortable and unfamiliar compared to what he normally wore to school. Taylor tried to avoid fidgeting, as sitting still was the best way to keep as much focus away from himself as possible. After twenty or thirty minutes, Ms. Hamilton told everyone that it was time to switch gears. They were going to play a round or two of Simon Says, so the girls could all re-energize. It was easily the worst choice of games, as it meant Taylor was going to be stuck participating while also having to stand more or less in the same spot during all the actions. He was tempted to mess up right away, to be involved as little as possible in the childish game. However, he wanted to stay under the radar; it would be better to play along until at least one or two others were out. So, feeling absolutely ridiculous in his current getup and as he took his spot for a game he hadn’t played since elementary school, Taylor started copying the moves Ms. Hamilton simultaneously called out and physically demonstrated. “Simon says touch your toes” “Simon says hands on head.” “Simon says stand on one foot.” “Switch feet.” That’s all it took for a couple girls to be tricked. At that point, Taylor was comfortable following through with his plan, purposely falling for the next one so he could go stand off to the side. He did the same thing for the next few rounds, feeling particularly embarrassed when the actions reminded him of his situation. Not that he needed much of a reminder, when he was surrounded by a classroom of girls who were waiting for their parents to pick them up. Still, something like ‘jump up and down’ made both his pigtails and his skirt bounce, and he also noticed along the way that he was basically the same height as the others. Definitely on the taller side, due to his age and gender, but not by much. Once the third game was over, everyone was free to go back to the same activities as before, and encouraged to switch stations. Sarah made a point to walk Taylor over to the arts and crafts area, no doubt wanting to nudge the new girl to try different things. She informed him that there would normally be stuff to do outdoors. Since it was drizzling outside, they were restricted to the classroom at the moment. Taylor was fine with that; similar to his worries from before, there was a chance that one or more of his peers were hanging around after school for whatever reason. And, while he normally thrived when it came to physical activities, running around in a pink dress sounded terrible. Taylor’s athletics were strong. His artistic abilities, however, were practically nonexistent. He settled on a box of colored pencils and a Color By Number book. It was one that had more involved drawings, for older girls to enjoy the simple, cathartic experience of coloring. Even so, he was too old and too mature for the experience. Like the previous table, he kept to himself for the most part, content to be the ‘quiet girl’ as he remained in the daycare classroom way longer than he had anticipated. Going to the bathroom wasn’t an option, either, as Ms. Hamilton had mentioned that girls needed an escort rather than a hall pass or whatever. Before he knew it, parents started showing up. Not all at the same time, as they all had different reasons for having their daughters stay for an extra hour or so, but enough that Taylor was belatedly hit with a whole new problem. No one was coming to pick him up, as he wasn’t actually supposed to be here. It wasn’t as if Ms. Hamilton was simply going to let him leave when he was the last ‘girl’ there. Did he put himself through this extended humiliation just for her to find out who he really was anyway? Short of falling back on his original thought of making a break for it, he had no idea how that would play out. As the room continued to clear out over the next ten or fifteen minutes, Taylor continued to quietly stress as he kept working on the coloring sheet. Eventually, Sarah came over. “Hey, Taylor? I’m done helping Ms. Hamilton for the day. Do you need a ride home?” Was Sarah allowed to do that? Even if she was, Taylor didn’t want her knowing where he lived. Then again, he could always lie and have her drop him off down the block. Wait, then he’d have to walk through his neighborhood in a dress. Also, his car was still out in the school parking lot, while the keys and everything else was in his locker. Despite all of that, he gave a nod and a quiet, “Yes.” One problem at a time. Right now, the priority was getting home and back into his own clothes; he could figure out the rest later. “I thought you might,” she chuckled, “Tell you what. Give me a big smile, and I’ll give you a ride. Otherwise, we can go have a little chat with Ms. Hamilton about how you’re an asshole jock who’s secretly a little sissy.” It took a moment for Sarah’s words to register. The friendly tone didn’t at all line up with what she actually said, and Taylor was also used to her being a nerdy girl who wouldn’t dare talk to a star athlete like that. Of course, he was far more concerned with the fact that the brunette before him apparently did know who he really was. And could easily rat him out if she wanted to. When Taylor didn’t reply right away, Sarah said, “Go on, Taylor. Smile.” She held up her phone, not making any attempt to hide that she planned on taking a photo. Just for good measure, she added, “Not that it really matters. I have so many good pictures of you. I’m sure the whole school would love to see them.” This was quickly turning into his worst case scenario. Sarah knowing might have actually been worse than Ms. Hamilton finding out, as she was a peer in a unique position to boss around a boy who normally walked all over girls like her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t friends with his friends; a single group text from her, and the photos she was referencing would spread like wildfire. With all that in mind, he forced a smile that wasn’t candid in the slightest. It looked more demure than anything else, with the way he kept his lips closed. “Real cute,” Sarah giggled. She snapped the photo, then took his hand. “Okay, let’s go.” Taylor let her walk him out of the classroom, where he was assuming the risk of being seen was a lot lower now that so much time had passed since the final bell. The moment they were out of earshot of both the room itself and any parents that were around to pick up their girls on the later end, Taylor said, “Now, can I-” “Ah, ah,” Sarah cut him off, “When you’re dressed like a little girl, you talk like a little girl. Understand?” His head was still spinning. And talking in the girly pitch when Sarah was well aware that he was a classmate? It was a lot. He was also in no position to argue when he was still in the middle of the mess that a simple locker room prank had snowballed into. “I just need to go get my stuff,” he said, “I can drive myself.” God, it was so much worse saying full sentences as if he was a female tween, rather than the limited vocabulary he had managed to get away with earlier. “Don’t be silly, Taylor!” she exclaimed, “A girl your age wouldn’t have any stuff in this building. This is a good look for you, by the way. Who knew that you really pick on girls because you secretly want to be one? Honestly, I’m not sure I would have recognized you if you hadn’t used your real name. But it’s a good thing I did. This is going to be so much fun!” He hadn’t meant to use his real name! It just slipped out, as he had been flustered from being caught ‘streaking’ through the halls in panties. As for the rest, it wasn’t that Taylor specifically picked on girls. He just tended to tease and taunt the obvious targets; Sarah just happened to be one of them. “So. Here’s what I’m thinking,” she continued, squeezing his hand and walking him towards the side door that led out to the parking lot, “I can keep this to myself, and I might even delete all the adorable photos from this afternoon. As long as you do a little something for me.” As in, what? He had no idea what a girl like her would want. And asking meant he’d have to suffer through more of the girly voice. Instead, he kept quiet, assuming she was getting to her point regardless. Sure enough, Sarah smirked and said, “I think you should come back to daycare tomorrow. In those shoes and another cute dress, of course. Oh, and definitely in panties like the ones you have on right now! Ms. Hamilton told me you were running around in My Little Pony panties? I think underwear like that is perfect for a sissy like you!” Absolutely not. One day of a humiliating case of mistaken identity was bad enough. “I can’t,” he said, blushing deeply at how he was stuck using the girly voice, “I have baseball practice.” It wasn’t a lie. They didn’t practice on Monday, but he was committed to the team tomorrow. “Then I guess you have a decision to make,” Sarah shrugged, “Do you want to be a boy, and have everyone know that you’re actually a little girl at heart? Or do you want to be a girl, and continue pretending to be a boy at school? Guess we’ll find out tomorrow after school!” Not pressing for an answer right away, she simply walked him to her car and opened the rear door. According to her, he was both too young and too short to sit in the front seat. Aside from asking for his address to put into her GPS, Sarah didn’t tease him any further or imply anything else about the obvious leverage that she had. She was content with the sight of him in the rearview mirror, sitting in the back seat as if he was actually a girl who needed a ride home. Meanwhile, Taylor had to watch helplessly as his own car vanished from sight as they turned the corner. He probably wouldn’t get a fine for a single night of leaving it in the parking lot, though it did mean he would have to figure out how to get to school tomorrow. His sister didn’t have her license yet, and he also didn’t have his phone. Until he could figure out how to explain why he was home without his car, it would be difficult to ask anyone for a ride. Speaking of Anna, there was a good chance she was home. Considering no one two feet away from him had noticed that he wasn’t actually a girl, Taylor wasn’t that worried about darting from Sarah’s car to the house. Getting to his bedroom would be a whole different story if Anna was pretty much anywhere but her own room. “Here you are, Taylor!” Sarah said, as they pulled up to the curb, “What do you say?” He had half a mind to just get out of the car. Instead, after making sure both of Sarah’s hands were on the wheel and her phone was nowhere in sight, he forced out a quiet, “Thank you.” “What a well behaved little girl!” she grinned, “Bye, Taylor. See you tomorrow, maybe!” After triple checking that no one was walking nearby, Taylor got out of the car and sprinted to the side of the house. He didn’t want to be seen on the off chance that Anna was looking out the window. And while he logically knew that their neighbors likely wouldn’t recognize him in his current state, it didn’t keep him from being nervous about it while it was still light outside. Slipping in through the garage, briefly stopping to see if there was anything he could use to cover up or change into, Taylor braved the house itself. Calling for his sister was a terrible idea. Instead, he carefully and quietly padded down the hall. Where was the closest change of clothes? Both his bedroom and the laundry room were on the second floor. Sarah having pictures was bad enough. If Anna saw him like this, he was dead. Finally, Taylor caught a lucky break. The first floor was empty, and he eventually resorted to racing up the stairs and to his room before Anna left hers. If she was home at all, as she could easily be at a friend’s place. Either way, Taylor made it safely to his bedroom, where he promptly locked the door and closed the curtains. Safe. For now. Even so, he quickly stripped himself of the dress, the panties, and the shoes. Then he stuffed them under his covers, as if someone would burst in any second and see that he had just been dressed up like a girl. After pulling on a pair of boxers and some of his own clothes, he flopped down onto the bed and took a deep breath. He still had to undo the pigtails; that would just be more involved than changing, and potentially require seeing himself in the mirror with braided hair. He already knew what he had to do in order to keep Sarah from totally ruining his reputation. That’s why she hadn’t pressed that hard about it. Baseball practice or not, Taylor was going to have to swallow his pride and go through another round of daycare. Either Sarah was assuming that’s what he would do, or she was happy with either outcome. Speaking of his pigtails, Taylor realized that it wasn’t nearly as simple as showing up to the classroom after school. To keep up the charade, he was going to have to find a new dress to wear. And a new pair of panties. Without a car, he really only had one option. He was going to have to ‘borrow’ some of his sister’s old clothes, bring them to school, and change into them after P.E. All so he could skip practice for the sake of pretending to be a tween girl for the second afternoon in a row. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "From Taylor to Tay-Tay" (10+ parts) and other exclusive stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter One “Watch it, nerd!” Taylor didn’t think twice about knocking the girl’s books out of her hands, as if calling her out to everyone in the halls around them wasn’t enough. They had technically brushed against each other while turning the corner, except it was obviously her fault for being an unpopular girl who wasn’t watching out for one of their school’s baseball players. He was walking to class with a couple of his teammates, who instantly validated his casual bullying with laughter and a round of high fives as they continued on their way. The only reason they looked back was to catch a glimpse of the girl awkwardly retrieving her possessions as other students hurried to class around her. Ever since Taylor had joined the team, he had grown more confident. Then more arrogant, as his popularity pushed him over the fine line between the two. Pacific Grove’s baseball team was the team at their school. There was still some hype for the football and basketball games, as well as the cliché jock mentality those players had, but baseball was on another level. The team often had a win streak that was continually celebrated with every next game won, and they had made it to district playoffs three years in a row. And Taylor? He was their star pitcher. As a senior who had been putting in the work since JV, he had definitely earned the spot. Not only that, but their most few games could have ended differently if he didn’t strike the other team out so efficiently in the last couple innings. Of course, it wasn’t just the school worshiping their team that made Taylor act like he was all that. He had been completely screwed over by puberty, and was solidly in the lowest percentile for eighteen year old guys when it came to height. Specifically 5’3” and ⅓, which he knew from multiple physicals as a guy doing high school sports, as well as the fact that his last growth spurt was in middle school and he had suffered through the same stature measurements again and again and again as a teenager. The good news was, it didn’t take height to be a skilled pitcher. Being a popular jock meant he was rarely teased about his height any more, unless it was his teammates giving him shit in a way he was more than capable of dishing back. Outside practice, however, Taylor was still overcompensating for all the years he had to deal with both girls and guys being taller than him as the years dragged on. Which worked, when he was backed up by said teammates in class and in the halls. The ‘short bully’ was a common enough trope in shows and movies, not that Taylor considered himself a bully. He and his friends were just having some fun, plus it wasn’t as if they ever targeted anyone specifically. They were just top of the totem pole; anyone near the bottom was fair game. When not in his baseball gear, Taylor had a bit of a wannabe rock star look. He had long, dark hair, wore a lot of black with some alternative accessories, and usually opted for dark boots that gave him an extra half inch of height. While he was into a number of punk bands, he also thought the dark ensemble offset his smaller size. His cleats had a similar effect where his height was involved, though he had accepted he would always be the shortest guy on their team. At this point in his high school career, as both a senior and a talented baseball player, Taylor never expected to be a victim of a prank himself. Or how something so simple and immature would spin out into much more than his teammates had planned for him. It all started on a Monday afternoon. Taylor’s last class of the day was P.E., which was a total joke when the group fitness stuff done in the gym was nothing compared to the conditioning they did throughout the baseball season. Still, for whatever reason, he needed to take an actual class to graduate; apparently being on a sports team only counted for so many credits, and students like him still had to take a single class during the school day. A couple of his teammates had signed up for the same reason he did–ending the day with P.E. meant not being sweaty at school afterwards, or dealing with bringing a change of clothes and taking a rushed shower before the following class. Normally, Taylor would just head home to rinse off, or go straight to practice, depending on the day. This week, however, there was never a guarantee that the water would be on at his house. His parents had saved up for a pretty major renovation, which included two of the bathrooms. This mostly affected Taylor and his younger sister, as their parents both worked long hours and frequently were away on business trips as well. So, this week, Taylor and his sister were left to deal with the inconvenience of the project. They had a couple cases of bottled water for drinking and brushing their teeth, and were left with the option of showering at school, at a friend’s place, or hoping that the contractors weren’t dealing with the bathrooms on any given day. Taylor opted to shower at school. He was already in the locker room, it was the end of the day, and his sister was carpooling with someone else. Pacific Grove High also had decent facilities; while the shower stalls were a little cramped, the fact that students could wash themselves privately was a nice perk compared to other schools. The baseball team didn’t practice on Monday, so he really had nowhere to be. After waiting for most of the guys to clear out after class, Taylor slipped into the stall all the way in the corner and hopped in the shower. After a good ten minutes or so, as the water pressure was better than normal when half the team wasn’t rinsing off, he turned off the water and reached for his towel . . . It wasn’t on the hook. At first, he just assumed it had fallen to the ground, which happened every now and then. However, when he pulled back the curtain to check the private area between the shower and the rest of the locker room, Taylor could see that his towel wasn’t there at all. In fact, nothing was there. Both his clean clothes and his dirty gym uniform had been on the little wooden bench, which was now empty. His socks and shoes were missing as well. “Fuck,” Taylor muttered to himself. His first instinct was that one of his teammates was screwing with him, as who else would dare do something like this? Unless it was some underclassmen guys who were bold enough to steal his clothes when there was anonymity involved. Either way, it wasn’t funny. “HEY.” Yelling out to whoever was left in the locker room, he exclaimed, “Bring my shit back! Right now.” Silence. He had held off on showering for a little extra privacy. There was a good chance he was the only one left in the area, if whoever did this decided to bolt instead of waiting around to see his reaction. Swearing under his breath again, Taylor pulled back the curtain and stepped out to the small changing area. If he were at home, maybe he’d try to avoid dripping. Right now, he was at school, and had more pressing things to worry about. With one hand firmly clasped over his crotch, he tentatively stuck his head out of the second curtain. “I’m fucking serious!” he shouted. No one was within sight, though they could always be hiding around the corner; the lockers took up about half the locker room, all of which were on the other side of the wall This was bad. Like, really bad. Taylor wasn’t just small when it came to his stature. So far, he had managed to keep his size a secret. For baseball, it was all about strategic timing. Changing first or last without being obvious about it, or doing so in a bathroom stall with the logic that he would be taking off his pants in there anyway. It had been a careful rotation, to the point where no one had ever questioned him or called him out. Games were much easier than practice, as most of his teammates including himself would show up in uniform. He was very insecure about it, too. Something like that wasn’t his fault in the slightest, or anything to be ashamed about, but it was difficult to have a mature perspective on it when he was a teenage boy surrounded by teenage boys. Taylor had heard more than enough small dick jokes over the years and, while he wasn’t actively looking or comparing, he had also caught plenty of glimpses of other guys in the locker room while they changed more casually than he did. Incidentally, Taylor’s embarrassment of his not so endowed member was why he was such a heartbreaker at school. Nearly all the other guys on his team had attractive girlfriends, yet Taylor had turned down countless girls ever since earning a permanent spot on the roster. Those rejections only made the girls want him more, making Taylor look both cool and aloof when he brushed off the attention of hot girl after hot girl. Considering how he dressed, he was able to pull off the lone wolf thing. The truth was, he was a virgin due to how determined he was to keep his secret and, by extension, his dignity. And now that he didn’t have a stitch of clothing, or even a towel to cover up with, he was desperate to find something to wear. Before leaving the safety of the stall, Taylor called out a few more times. No dice. If the locker room was empty, he was wasting his time and his breath. If there was someone or multiple someones hiding nearby, he was only going to sound more desperate the more he demanded his things back. So, after taking a deep breath, he pulled the curtain aside and began quietly making his way towards the other end of the shower area. Between not wanting to slip while his feet were still damp, and not wanting to be seen by anyone while he was buck naked, Taylor moved nice and slowly. As he passed each stall, he peered inside to see if someone had forgotten a towel or anything else. No luck there, either. Finally, he glanced around the corner, while saying, “Last chance if you’re in here. This isn’t fucking funny.” To his relief, no one was there. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he came face to face with whoever took his clothes. Especially if it was one or more of his teammates who took P.E. with him; they wouldn’t be intimidated by him, which meant they wouldn’t make this easy. Section by section, Taylor explored the locker room. A few minutes later, he determined there was literally nothing he could use as temporary clothing. He would have settled for a random pair of dirty gym shorts, or even a t-shirt he could put on upside-down. His locker wouldn’t get him anywhere either, as it was currently empty; both their previous game and their next game were away games, so his uniform and spare uniform were at home. He was left with two options; either he could wait around for someone to find him, and pray that person wouldn’t make matters worse, or he could venture out of the locker room and look for something to wear before doubling back to grab his phone and car keys. For now, he decided to leave those in his locker; one hand was dedicated to covering himself up, and it would be better if the other one remained free. As for calling/texting someone, he couldn’t think of a single person he trusted with this situation. Not unless he wanted this to be an embarrassing story that circulated throughout the entire baseball team by the end of the day, and the whole school by the end of the week. So, what to do? His first instinct was the Drama department, as there would for sure be some costumes backstage. Except the auditorium was all the way at the other end of the school, and the only way to hide in the exposed hallways would be to duck into doorways; or, if any classroom doors were unlocked along the way, risk being seen by whoever might be in there. The girls’ locker room was the closest option, and the safest in terms of getting from here to there without being seen, though ‘closest’ didn’t mean ‘best.’ Taylor absolutely didn’t want to be caught naked, sneaking around over there. Putting aside the risk of exposure, he’d also look like a total creep. And, again, the whole school would hear about something like that. After a minute or two of deliberating, Taylor decided he’d make a run for the Lost & Found box that was just down the hall from the gym. He wasn’t confident there would be clothes in there, though maybe someone would have lost a sweater or accessory or something that he could use to cover up while figuring out a better solution. Of course, that still meant leaving the locker room while buck naked, which was daunting no matter where he went from there. At least no one had come in since the end of his shower; he still had a chance of getting out of this without taking a major hit to his dignity and reputation. Taylor peeked out of the locker room door and did a thorough scan of the gym before daring to take a step past the threshold. In a similar fashion, he made sure no one was hanging out on the bleachers or coming out of the girls’ locker room. ‘Now or never,’ he thought to himself. Every second he stalled was a second he could chicken out and dart back to safety. Steeling himself and praying that there wasn’t anyone around the corner quietly texting or something, he sprinted to the side of the basketball court, to the double doors that led out to the hallway. Every step of the impending journey brought on a new round of nerves. What if someone was on the other side of those doors? Or in one of the classrooms for a club or tutoring session or something? Taylor could keep his manhood covered, but that didn’t change the fact that he was running around the school naked. Balancing speed and caution, Taylor tentatively left the gym entirely and began the mortifying dash towards the Lost & Found. It was only two turns, but they were both scary when there wasn’t a discreet way to glance around a corner when doing so revealed his bare upper half and risked anyone stepping into the hall behind him seeing his exposed backside. Against all odds, he made it to the Lost & Found without running into a single person. His good luck ended there, however. As he desperately looked through the box, Taylor saw that it was more or less what he had anticipated. A notebook, a tangled pair of cheap headphones, a frayed pencil pouch, a single earring, and a handful of other useless knick knacks and school supplies. It wasn’t a total bust; the notebook was way better than his hand in terms of covering his backside. If someone caught him, he’d be able to run away with a little more modesty back there. As he picked up the notebook, something underneath came into view that he hadn’t seen before. Taylor could see right away that it was a pair of panties. Upon further inspection of the pink underwear, the front had MY LITTLE PONY printed in girly cursive, along with several ponies on the crotch. He vaguely recognized them from the stupid Brony phase that some of his less popular classmates had been into a while ago. Taylor almost wished he hadn’t found the childish panties. Because now that he had, the choice was his–either stay naked, or try on the cartoon print girls’ underwear. And honestly, it wasn’t much of a choice. Being caught in My Little Pony panties? Humiliating, but something he could spin as a dare or lost bet. Of course, he could put the same spin on being naked, except he absolutely couldn’t let anyone see how small he was down there. Making a snap decision, as it wasn’t as if he could continue standing around nude in the school hallway, Taylor faced the wall so no one could glimpse his front side as he pulled the panties on. As if wearing girls’ underwear wasn’t embarrassing enough, he cringed a bit at how they fit him perfectly. There wasn’t a trace of a bulge behind the cutesy ponies, and apparently his dimensions were comparable to whatever girl had lost her panties. Now what? He really didn’t have time to dwell on the underwear thing. Getting to his car in just these was going to be impossible. With his private areas less of a concern, it was time to focus on finding some outfit or costume or whatever to wear. Taylor would settle for just pants at this point; walking around shirtless as a guy wasn’t that crazy, even if it would be a bit frowned upon at school. Before he could figure out his next move, someone called out to him. “Miss? Over here, miss. What happened to your clothes??” Taylor froze. He knew that he should have been sprinting in the opposite direction of the female voice. As a baseball player, he’d probably be able to outrun her even while barefoot. But for whatever reason, there was a sudden disconnect between his body and his mind. And wait, what did she just call him? “You’re not supposed to leave the classroom, remember?” the woman asked, “Oh, you must be new. Did Sarah sign you in?” Apparently neither Taylor’s voice or his feet were working properly. He turned to look at the young woman approaching him; she wasn’t a teacher or anyone else he recognized. Did she think he was a girl?! It suddenly hit Taylor that the combination of his long hair and the panties that he just put on, not to mention his more petite form, must have led her to a mortifying assumption. Between the shock and the embarrassment, he didn’t have it in him to correct her. Instead, he merely gave an awkward nod as a response to her last question. “Alright,” she said, “Well, I’m Ms. Hamilton. What’s your name?” Answering her simple questions felt so much easier than trying to explain why he was actually in front of her in nothing but panties. Barely above a whisper, he said, “ . . . Taylor.” He regretted it immediately. Why hadn’t he given her a fake name? He flushed at both the thoughts that raced through his head, as well as how his voice hadn’t sounded particularly masculine due to how weakly his name came out. “It’s very nice to meet you, Taylor,” Ms. Hamilton smiled, “For future reference, girls here are to be dressed at all times. And you’re not allowed to leave the classroom without an escort. Can you tell me where your clothes are?” Taylor shook his head. He was still reeling from the fact that even when up close, the young woman believed that he was a girl. While it was objectively useful in terms of no one finding out about this, it was a pretty big blow to his ego at the same time. Another element of the mistaken identity was that Taylor didn’t have much body hair. No doubt a side effect of how he hadn’t grown in forever. He had some, like the dark wisps that were now covered by the panties, but pretty much nothing on his legs or chest. Thankfully, that wasn’t the kind of thing his peers noticed, as it wasn’t as if anyone ever looked too closely at someone’s legs. He had always thought of it as yet another way puberty screwed him over, rather than it being a subtly feminine feature, until right now. “Okay,” she said, “We can worry about that later. For now, let’s find you something to wear.” With that, she took Taylor’s hand and began walking him the wrong way down the hall. Crazy as all of this was, Taylor actually allowed himself to be led farther away from the gymnasium. It turned out that there was a major silver lining to the young woman’s false perception of him. If he stayed quiet and went along with it for another minute or two, he’d have clothes that would cover up the childish panties and hopefully be enough that he could go grab his things from his locker and head home. Ms. Hamilton led him to an empty classroom just around the corner, where she had him wait as she looked through the supply closet. As if he was going anywhere; this room was way less risky than standing around in the hallway. “Here we go,” she said, reappearing with a large cardboard box in her arms, “There should be something in here that fits you. We keep spare outfits around in case of spills or, in your case, missing clothes.” She set the box down on a nearby desk and sifted through the contents for a minute. “Oh, this should work. Can you put your arms up for me, Taylor?” He grimaced slightly at the notion that he needed help getting dressed, yet couldn’t exactly speak up about his independence without sounding like a boy. Doing as he was told, he reluctantly lifted his arms for what he assumed was going to be a t-shirt or a tank top or something. Instead, Ms. Hamilton pulled out a simple pink dress. Before Taylor could process the girly garment, or do anything about it, Ms. Hamilton stepped forward and slid it onto his body. “Arms through here,” she instructed, while guiding his upper limbs underneath the straps. “Perfect. Alright, can you sit for a minute?” Not really asking, because they both knew he was capable of a simple task like that. As Taylor sat down in the chair she pulled over for him, blushing furiously at the sight and the feeling of wearing a dress, Ms. Hamilton pulled out a pair of Mary Janes from the box and knelt down to put them on his feet. “Just your size,” she said, as she tightened the straps into place, “Okay, one last thing. Your hair is kind of a mess, dear. Do you mind if I fix it up for you?” Still blushing, Taylor gave a small shake of his head. He didn’t know it yet, but he looked more like a timid girl than an awkward boy at the moment. And since he continued to be too nervous to speak, giving away his gender after letting himself be put through all this, all he could do was sit there quietly. The young woman stood back up, giving him another reassuring smile to put him at ease. “Don’t worry, Taylor. A lot of girls are nervous on their first day, but daycare can actually be a lot of fun! Even for the older girls. You’re fifth grade, right? You look a little tall for fourth!” As Ms. Hamilton ran her fingers through his hair and started separating it out for what was apparently going to end up being braids, Taylor’s eyes widened and his blush deepened. She thought he belonged in daycare?! And if her assumption was fifth grade, that meant she believed he was eleven years old. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "From Taylor to Tay-Tay" (10+ parts) and other exclusive stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter Ten As it turned out, water polo was rather simple to learn, although there was a good chance the camp version of it ignored a lot of the details the real sport had. Actually playing it, however, was a whole different story. For starters, it was difficult to figure out who was on what team; there were a lot of girls playing, and I really only knew the ones I had stuck with since the beginning of camp. The quantity of girls swimming around also meant that it was utter chaos. By the end, I had only touched the ball two or three times, and mostly only succeeded in getting my hair soaked. My group wanted to transition to beach volleyball next, which I had to assume would be more or less the same experience. There were two nets set up on the sand, so it wouldn’t be quite as crowded as the previous game, but there were also a lot of campers who chose this as their afternoon activity. Volleyball, when played casually, could be practically limitless in terms of how many girls were on each team. Even with the sun hanging lower in the mid-afternoon sky, I felt like a girly beacon with my bright pink one piece. It also wasn’t flattering in the slightest, not that I cared about how I looked to anyone but maybe Mckenna. I decided to opt out of the coming game, telling Bailey and company that I was going to get some water and check in with my sister. Both were actually true; I was constantly thirsty from the combination of the summer heat and the various forms of cardio. Finding water was easy, as the counselors always had a station set up for campers to hydrate during any given activity. Finding Mckenna took a little more effort. As I roamed the crowded shore, I was most jealous of the girls who were lounging with a book or just chatting with each other on the sand. That’s what I usually did at the pool, particularly the latter, rather than running/swimming around. My sister wasn’t the only blonde counselor, and half of the girls in charge were wearing some iteration of lifeguard red swimwear instead of the familiar polo. There was also no guarantee she was at the lake at all, since there were other activities happening. When I finally found her, she greeted me with a smile and an enthusiastic, “Maddie!” With an eye roll, I greeted her in a far less energetic way before finally asking the question I had been wanting to bring up to her all day. Circle B did the best out of all the other rising 7th girls, and we also won against one rising 8th circle. That had to count for something. “It does count for something!” she assured me, “You and your friends earned a lot more points than most of the other Fireflies. Maybe this will be the first year a circle of rising 7th girls wins the trophy. Oh, and you should try out ‘Kenna.’ Embrace the camp experience!” “You know what I mean, Mckenna,” I said. Using her full name was hardly a form of rebellion; it was just what I had called her for my entire life, so switching just like that wasn’t something that would come naturally to me. It was Mckenna’s turn to roll her eyes, albeit in a more playful way. She was in full counselor mode at this point, clearly thriving at her favorite place. I could tell that her energy wasn’t just for show as we chatted in a public setting, even if she was taking a little pleasure in how she had arranged for me to get the camp experience I never had. “You can try again tomorrow, Maddie! As soon as you and your friends get 1st place in a ranked game, we can talk. In the meantime, maybe work on that attitude. You look so cute in that swimsuit. A smile would be much better than that bratty pout, don’t you think?” Yeah, except being told to smile typically had the opposite effect on most people, myself included. Besides, it wasn’t as if I needed my sister to give me such a nudge. I had already been forcing positivity more and more often, mostly since I would come across as a total bitch and/or buzzkill if I looked annoyed every time my bunkmates included me in whatever. Bailey in particular, since she was both friendly and bubbly, and it felt bad to meet that energy with a total lack of enthusiasm. But with Mckenna? Being myself was a lot more natural. “If we get 1st place in a ranked game, you send me home,” I clarified. It was already a concession to stay another night. Just ‘talking’ after pulling off a difficult victory could mean anything. At the same time, I hadn’t forgotten the part about playing Mckenna’s game so she kept all of this to herself at the end of the summer. I could only insist on so much when I couldn’t really do anything about my role as a camper. No one would believe me and, even if they did, I’d pay for it later. “Mm hmm,” Mckenna hummed in agreement, “But only if you participate, remember? No letting your teammates carry your weight. And until you win, that means having fun with everything else! Like, playing volleyball, maybe?” Whatever. I would have made my way back towards the Cabin 4 girls eventually, since that was less work than meeting other campers that I had nothing in common with from both their age and how most of the girls around were into the whole camp thing. I had suspected that another conversation with Mckenna would have been pointless; at least I tried, and now I knew for sure. As badly as I wanted to give her the middle finger, I settled for an annoyed scowl as I walked away. The rest of the lake time wasn’t particularly eventful. Sure enough, volleyball with that many girls was kind of dumb; I barely ever touched the ball, not that I minded. Then I followed my usual group to the water for a quick swim to cool off, at which point the counselors were letting us know that we only had a little time left. After drying off, we headed back to the cabins with the crowd who were all doing the same, at which point we had a half hour or so before dinner. Avoiding the showers like usual when my preference was to wait until no one was in there, I settled on brushing my wet hair from the lake and applying a fresh layer of deodorant in the cabin. Honestly, I didn’t know how anyone at Camp Firefly kept themselves clean and put together. At least the evening was more consistent with what the previous night had entailed. Dinner at the mess hall, for starters, where I had to suffer through waiting in line with all the other campers. It wasn’t as if I was a stranger to standing in lines, though that was rarely something I had to do for meals when I packed my own lunches for school and otherwise ate at home. Other than that, the mess hall wasn’t that different from a cafeteria in terms of the noise and how everyone was already settling into cliques. That really wasn’t the right word for it. The only visible separation between groups was that girls wearing the same color t-shirt tended to sit together, and I was assuming a lot of them were like us, where it was simpler to stick with bunkmates they would have gotten to know naturally through proximity, and/or campers from their circle. Of course, it was only the second day of camp. While I was sitting with Bailey, Rachel, and Ally, the other two girls from our cabin had opted for a different table to get to know some of the girls they had met at the lake. The difference between a lot of these girls and myself was that I wasn’t particularly motivated to branch out socially when I was still in denial about being a Firefly for the full two weeks. No matter what I had agreed to with Mckenna. After the meal, we had a little more free time, and then each circle had another bonfire. The returning campers in my cabin told me that this wouldn’t always be the routine. Some nights, there were post-dinner events for the whole camp, including a chance to mingle with the boys across the river. I had forgotten about that amidst everything else since being tricked by my sister. Now that I had been reminded about the co-ed stuff, I was worried about running into Will like this. I really doubted he would view me as relationship material after seeing me in camper mode, and he’d potentially share the embarrassing story with others; while I had a bit of a crush on him, I also didn’t know him that well. Just something else to worry about moving forward if my circle failed to win tomorrow’s ranked game, or the subsequent challenges. Apparently the Camp Falcon stuff was traditionally at the end of the week, so I had some time. My best bet was probably to just blend in with the other girls and make sure that I never ended up face to face with Will. It wasn’t until a couple minutes of quietly projecting countless scenarios that I realized all of them revolved around when we did the combined camp event. Less than two days in, and I was already starting to accept my role as a camper. Begrudging or not, I was still going through the motions of Firefly activities and rituals like everyone else. For a little while, the bonfire was just there for the campers in Circle B to socialize around. Eventually, Alex and Stacey got everyone’s attention. The latter counselor in charge of our group of cabins was one of the few who didn’t have a shortened version of her name or something camp-y like ‘Pixie.’ Probably because ‘Stace’ was hardly a nickname. If only I could have been given a name without an obvious nickname option. The counselor duo started with a few reminders about camp rules, no doubt about the ones that had accidentally or intentionally been broken throughout the course of the day as everyone got used to being away at camp. Then, they moved onto the more interesting part of the announcements. Alex told us that she had designed Round Two of the games for the trophy, but it wasn’t going to be like last time where we got to know the main idea ahead of time. “After breakfast tomorrow, you’re all going to change into your bathing suits and head down to the lake. The rest will be a surprise!” More lake time. Lovely. It was refreshing after dealing with hours of heat, though the mornings were a little more chilly than the rest of the day. Were we really going to be swimming right away? Then again, it would be after breakfast, so the sun would be up by then. Either way, I wasn’t sure what to expect as a first-time camper. I realized halfway through the bonfire that it was the perfect time to shower. Most girls did so in the morning or before bed, while I could kill two birds with one stone in terms of avoiding more social time and finally rinsing off after a long day. At home, I preferred showering in the morning. At camp? There was absolutely no way I was going to bed without bathing myself after so many outdoorsy activities. As it turned out, my worries about the showers not living up to my standards were well founded. The water was warm enough, though not nearly as hot as I liked it, and the pressure was passable at best. At least my goal was to be quick, so I didn’t have to deal with all that for very long. Staying behind the curtain as I pulled on the athletic shorts and clean Camp Firefly t-shirt I had brought with me as pajamas, I made sure I couldn’t hear any sounds from the other side before emerging to go through the rest of my routine. Mckenna hadn’t taken all of my tops, but sleeping in the camp tee meant that I wouldn’t have to change in the cabin tomorrow morning. My sister had taken my blow dryer and straightener, leaving me with only a brush to deal with my blonde locks. Not that I could be too mad at her for that, when the nearest outlet would have required a longer cord than either of my things had. As much as I preferred wearing my hair down, I was probably going to start settling for ponytails when I had nothing else to combat the heat and humidity. Managing to take care of everything before any of the Circle B girls came around, I swung by the cabin to throw everything back into my duffel bag. Did the counselors get drawers, or other spaces for their belongings? I couldn’t believe I had to keep all my clothes and the rest of my things in a bag on the floor. The rest of the night wasn’t particularly eventful. Shortly after I made it back to the bonfire, Stacey announced that we had an hour until lights out. That prompted a number of campers to get around to taking their own showers, and others to head to their cabins to relax in bed rather than on the uncomfortable wooden benches. Bailey stuck around and asked me what I thought tomorrow’s lake game would be, to which I really didn’t have an answer. It wasn’t me brushing her off; I was just the last girl to ask about something like that. “Did they do any ranked games at the lake last year?” If anything, she would be the expert. “Not in swimsuits,” Bailey shrugged, “They tried beach volleyball, but it was kind of a mess. Every circle had to be split in half, so getting through all the matches took forever.” Maybe it would be a race. I’d have a better chance at personally contributing to something cardio based, compared to dodgeball or anything else that required hand-eye coordination. I doubted it would be water polo, when the same issue would apply in terms of the teams being way too big or the match-ups taking too long. We eventually settled into the usual smalltalk where I let Bailey carry most of the conversation. The dynamic was starting to feel more normal, which was good and bad. While it was nice to feel less awkward in general, I didn’t want to get too complacent about being a camper when I needed to be focused on winning something ASAP with my circle. When it was time for everyone to return to their cabins and turn off their lights, I could feel myself drifting off almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Between the physical toll of the camp activities, the nonstop social elements that were a lot more than a school day would bring, and the various mental/emotional states revolving around being perceived and treated as a camper by everyone, I was more exhausted than I realized. One full day down. A lot more to go if we couldn’t figure out how to win against the older girls. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 36 I hadn’t been blind to the fact that my bed had been stripped, nor had I forgotten that I had wet myself overnight. It’s more that I had been busy making sure no one would waltz into my room, and had only peripherally noticed the mattress until I was safely half dressed. Now that I was actually looking at it, I flushed at the thought of how this all must look to Noelle. It was one thing to be treated like a rebellious teenager; even if I was perceived to be Miley, however, the average girl her age wouldn’t have an accident like that. Plus now I had something new to worry about. If someone barged into my room, it was no longer just about whether I was dressed or not. The sight of my mattress would cause its own problems. For a moment, I froze in indecision. Maybe covering that spot was more pressing than putting on clothes? But I wasn’t sure how to cover it, at least not in a way that wouldn’t annoy Noelle. I was caught trying to balance a ‘what-if’ in regards to my sister against how Miley’s babysitter could just as easily be the one to open the door. Throwing my towel or something else onto the mattress could potentially add to her cleaning job, which would make for a worse start to our morning. Either way, I couldn’t just stand there. If Paige did strut in without knocking, I didn’t want to be caught both half dressed and with a clear visual of how I wet the bed. With that in mind, I made a snap decision to cover up the alleged accident with my towel. I didn’t want to risk it, especially since I had no idea if Noelle was going to be gone for another thirty seconds or ten minutes. Plus finding a suitable outfit would take a lot longer when a good portion of my clothes were missing. I had no idea what I was going to wear. Definitely not one of the youthful dresses or blouses that had been added to my closet. And though I had avoided the pinks and purples in my underwear drawer, that’s almost all there was in the t-shirt/tank top department. The girls had particularly leaned into pink when filling my drawers, and the rest was painfully bright. If they weren’t covered in pee, I would have considered the black shorts I had worn to bed. While I wasn’t thrilled about wearing pink, as it was more unattractive due to my size than it was attractive when paired with my hair, maybe darker bottoms would create a decently sharp combination. After looking through each stack multiple times, I ended up settling on something that was more or less the reverse of what Paige had brought down for me to wear yesterday. White jean shorts and a light blue tank top. Not amazing in terms of trying to visually show that I was an eighteen year old, but also not terrible. Apparently that was the bar I was working with, at least until I figured out where most of my real wardrobe was. Thankfully, Noelle was taking a while. It wouldn’t have taken that long to toss my dirty sheets in the washer, which made me a little nervous in terms of why she wasn’t back yet, though I was also grateful I had time to get dressed without being rushed or having to be seen in underwear that was a far cry from what I normally wore. Just about when I was wondering if I should put on socks or not after getting dressed, she gave two firm knocks to the door. “Miley? I’m coming in.” Assertive enough that there was no arguing the action, yet just enough warning in case I wasn’t decent or something. Upon entering, she closed the door behind her. Following through on how she said this would stay between us, provided I behaved. She gave a skeptical look to the mattress, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she gestured to my desk. “Come sit down, Miley. We need to have a little chat.” I wasn’t about to protest against something that simple. According to her, this morning was my chance to start fresh. Noelle had proved numerous times that she could reprimand me, and there was nothing I could do about it despite my real age. She had an advantage in both size and experience. Between behaving to her standards and trying to solve this mortifying mix-up, I was starting to lean towards the former more often than not. The worst part was, acting like a reformed girl wasn’t that far off from my everyday self. Yet anything would look more mature than being spanked over Noelle’s lap, so it’s not like it was much of a choice. My only real issue with my desk is that the embarrassment of writing lines was pretty fresh. The pages were still sitting there; I had only made it to 500 before Noelle decided it was enough. Or, more likely, that my hair was dry enough for her to put me to bed. When I had crossed the room and taken a seat, Noelle repeated a portion of our previous conversation. “Just to be clear, you didn’t wet the bed on purpose?” Immediately flushing, I replied, “No!” Like before, my answer more or less implied that it had, in fact, been an accident. “Okay,” she said, “Well, there’s nothing on your file about bedwetting, and your mother didn’t mention anything before her trip. So, is this a problem you’ve been keeping from her?” “It’s not a problem,” I insisted. Although I wasn’t the real Miley, I could see where Noelle’s logic was coming from. If a girl with Miley’s reputation was a frequent bedwetter, I imagine she’d do whatever it took to keep anyone from finding out. Even family. Heck, it didn’t have to be some rebellious teenager. I’d probably do the exact same thing. Keeping it from Paige would require keeping it from my parents. “It just-” I so badly wanted to blame my sister. Today was about choosing battles, however. Without proof, I wasn’t about to risk a spanking, more lines, or some other punishment I had yet to be surprised with. “It just happened . . . ” I muttered. “Okay,” Noelle echoed. It was one of those non-committal responses that didn’t give away what she was thinking in the slightest. “Can you read one of those lines for me?” she asked, nodding to the desk behind me. After so many iterations of writing them, I definitely didn’t need the stack of pages behind me for reference. At the same time, I didn’t want her to see how effective the task had been in searing the phrases into my mind. So I turned and took the top sheet and hesitantly read off, “My name is Miley. I am a well behaved girl who always tells the truth.” It sounded so awkward out loud, and in my own voice. “Good,” she nodded, “Let’s focus on that middle part. You’re a well behaved girl, right? Especially after a good night’s rest?” As Alyssa, yes. I was a well behaved girl. It hit differently when being treated like Miley, of course. “Uh huh,” I affirmed. “I want you to say it, Miley.” “I’m a well behaved girl . . . ” “Do you mean it?” “Yes. Of course.” She crossed her arms and looked down at me. Our height difference was exaggerated enough when we were standing face to face, but I felt extra small while I was seated while she was on her feet. “Okay, then,” she said, “I’m going to give you a chance to prove it. If you’re as well behaved as you claim to be, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I didn’t know what to say to that. My silence alone felt like I was writing a blank check. However, there wasn’t anything I could say to the contrary, either. I just had to sit there in suspense while I waited to hear whatever she had in mind. “Here’s the deal, Miley. I have a personal babysitting rule that anyone who wets the bed is required to wear pull-ups the following day. Normally it’s a ‘better safe than sorry’ precaution for younger girls.” There was no way she was suggesting that a rule like that would apply to me. The follow-up explanation gave me a bit of relief, however. “But I’m not a younger girl,” I quickly pointed out. If she was telling me this, was she actually considering the idea? “And-” “Please don’t interrupt me,” she curtly said, “For you, I’ve decided to compromise. I have some pull-ups that should fit you, and you’re going to wear them this morning. That much is non-negotiable.” Briefly pausing to let that sink in, she continued, “Show me that you can be a proper young lady for an extended period of time when you put your mind to it, and you can take them off after lunch. Fair?” NO. Not fair! In theory, sure. I could see what she was getting at. Changing back into panties was a pretty strong motivator. Except for the fact that I was eighteen years old, and being put into babyish underwear would be humiliating. Not to mention that for hours, I would be terrified of Paige somehow finding out. “But, Noelle . . . ” I trailed off. It was tough to think of a mature response, because she had totally set me up. I just insisted that I was a well behaved girl, and she had also made a point to mention that this wasn’t going to be a discussion. If the tall brunette could spank me minutes after arriving at our house, she could certainly make me put on alternative underwear. She knew it, too. If I didn’t go along with it, I would both suffer the consequences and end up doing what she wanted afterwards anyway. “Yes, Miley?” she calmly asked. Was I really about to agree to this? Noelle wasn’t pressuring me that hard, yet her non-confrontational demeanor was almost more effective than if she were taking a more assertive approach. If I tried to argue, chances were I would seem more like the difficult brat she believed me to be. Stuck in that same frustrating spot as usual, where both obeying and disobeying worked against me, I glanced away and said, “Never mind.” “So you’ll wear them, yes?” she asked. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (75+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 41 I knew the rules. Kate’s rules, that she had only explained to me after I had put the pacifier in for the first time a few hours ago. I had to actually suck on the thing, according to her. And also, as long as I was doing so, I wasn’t allowed to talk. Maybe that I couldn’t take out the babyish accessory myself, but I didn’t know for sure if she considered that a ‘rule’ or just something she decided to add on after I had already accepted the first conditions. One way or another, the no-talking part of it meant that I couldn’t exactly answer her little quiz. Instead, I simply nodded. “Good girl,” Kate giggled, “Now, suck on your pacifier, Annie. I need to finish cleaning up your mess. Are you going to behave for me?” I reluctantly nodded, awkwardly shifting my lips on the pacifier while she was looking right at me. “And are you nineteen years old?” Blushing, I gave a little shake of my head. “That’s right.” My younger sister, or ‘older sister,’ took a moment to pull on a fresh pair of gloves. “You’re twelve. My little sister. Still in middle school, still needs diapers.” How many times had we gone over this? At some level, I knew she was trying to condition me, but that didn’t stop it from slightly working. Every time I was hit with her words, the easier they were to take. It’s not that I believed them, but there was an awkward acceptance of the false reality that came with no longer flinching or cringing at the embarrassing definitions. I told myself I was just getting numb to what she was saying, but it wasn’t quite that. If anything, the constantly demeaning words and tone made me feel like the little girl she was painting me as. And, while I was literally in the middle of a diaper change, that feeling was difficult to shake. Still blushing, I gave her another tiny nod. It was just a role. Just a role. That I was apparently playing for a week, thanks to the reputation destroying–no, life destroying–pictures she had of me. Although it’s not like she was actually blackmailing me. I just knew she had the pictures, and that knowledge was daunting enough to make me worry about countless projections that played out in my mind if I tried to get out of this mortifying hole of immaturity I was digging for myself. For all I knew, she was just keeping them for her own amusement. One way or another, their existence made me nervous. Without another word, Kate got started. Unlike her quick swipes earlier to deal with the main portion of the mess I had somehow willingly sat in for hours before finally dealing with it on my sister’s terms, this round of wiping was a lot more thorough. There was nothing sexual about her touch, yet it was still beyond awkward to feel my own sister’s fingers on my ass. Though there was both a glove and a wipe separating her from actually having her hand on my bare backside, I couldn’t get past how weird it was to have Kate down there. Not only that, but she was going to end up seeing more and more of me the cleaner I was. To her credit, she didn’t do anything to make the experience worse for me after getting started, aside from smugly humming here and there as she wiped me clean. To some degree, she was probably falling back on her babysitting experience, but she was obviously taking some joy in having it be me that needed such skills from her. Little by little, the coolness on my lower cheeks suggested that she was making progress. “Ass up, little Annie.” I did as I was told. When my backside was fully off the changing table, she pulled the diaper out from under me and replaced it with yet another clean one. It took me a moment to process that she was basically using each fresh diaper to ensure that her work didn’t get undone. There was a better way to do it that wasn’t so wasteful, but I’m sure Kate didn’t care. I said I’d pay her back for the purchases she made, after all. As I balanced on my arms, hovering over the clean padding beneath me, I couldn’t help but blush and nervously suck on the pacifier as Kate continued her process. Before, it was the main surface area of my butt. Now she was venturing towards my crack, giving a few shallow wipes before starting to work deeper on each side. I couldn’t help but slightly whine into the pacifier at the invasion, but Kate was quick to chastise me. Blushing more deeply, I held still for her as she dug deeper and deeper with her fingers. It was definitely more than I’d do personally after using the bathroom, but I belatedly realized that walking around in full pull-ups would have created more of a mess back there than going normally. After what felt like forever, she had me lower myself back down onto the padding below. Finally, it was time for the worst part. I couldn’t help but mewl in protest as she began wiping around my most private area. Once again, I was hushed. Her touch was just as careful as before; if anything, it was more delicate as she made a point to wipe away from there in the name of being sanitary. Still, it was Kate. No doubt sensing my awkwardness, she did the opposite of help. “You really haven’t hit puberty, have you?” she casually asked, while continuing to clean me, “No boobs, no ass, AND no hair down here?” Because I kept everything waxed below my waist. But thanks to the stupid pacifier, I couldn’t explain. Instead, I just narrowed my eyes. “It’s okay, sis,” Kate giggled, playing dumb, “You’ll hit puberty soon. Now, keep those legs spread for me.” I could feel my blush darken at that. It was SO suggestive, and she knew it. Though nothing about her wiping process was inappropriate aside from the fact that it was my sister seeing and touching me like this, just a few simple words cranked the awkwardness to eleven in my mind. And yet, there was nothing I could do but keep myself splayed while she worked. The quickest way to move on was to do the same thing I had been doing this whole time–play along. Another eternity passed in my eyes, even if it was only so many passes of the wipe in real life. Ever the artist when it came to getting a reaction out of me, Kate finished things up by running one last wipe over my lower lips with just enough pressure to make me twitch and gasp in shock. “Mmm!” I whined through the pacifier. She did not just do that! “Hush, Annie,” Kate replied. Dismissively as ever, and feigning innocence at the same time, she tossed the last of the wipes in the trash and removed her gloves. “Wait right there. The twins are probably getting impatient by now. We need to hurry, okay? Just be a good girl and we’ll be done in a minute.” Unfortunately, she was right. And it would be impossible to blame her for what she just did. Even if I could speak, she would simply roll her eyes and say that she was being thorough. In fact, maybe she was and I was overreacting. Plus I wasn’t supposed to complain, or I’d be wearing diapers for an additional week. Internally sighing, I simply waited for her to get whatever else she had in her bag by the sink and went against my instincts in terms of keeping my legs spread now that I was fully exposed below the waist. Kate came back over with a few fresh diapers and a few other small containers in her other hand and arm that I couldn’t quite make out. Just like before, she began with, “Ass up, little Annie.” Following her instructions, I held myself up above the changing table until Kate laid out multiple diapers underneath me this time. After I was allowed to drop back down, the next thing I felt was Kate’s finger shoving its way into my ass. “MMM!!” I yelped and slightly squirmed at the invasion, before clamping down on the pacifier so I could let out a muffled, “Kate!” “HEY.” Matching my tone, she gave a sharp slap to one of my cheeks, “Hold still, brat! I need to make sure you’re clean.” “But-” “No buts!” she fiddled with her small collection of things at the edge of the table, before returning to pinch my ass with a bit of nail, “If you break your pacifier rule again, you’re going to be in serious trouble. Now I’m going to check you again. Are you going to freak out?” Feeling as vulnerable as ever in my current state, and not at all in the mindset to handle confrontation, I meekly shook my head. We were so close to being done. I could suffer through one last mortifying violation, especially since Kate had a point. Being fully clean was ideal after putting up with all this . . . Once again, Kate pushed her finger deep into my backside. I tensed up and nervously sucked on the pacifier, glancing away as I willed my body to stay still. It felt SO wrong. And since when was something like that necessary for a diaper change? There wasn’t time to dwell on it. Just as quickly as she entered, Kate slipped right back out. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked, condescendingly, “Now, just one more thing before we get you diapered up.” After using a wipe on her finger just to be safe, Kate picked up a small bottle she brought with her. I should have recognized it right away based on the color, but my not so great vantage point as I remained on my back kept me one step behind my sister as she continued the changing process without any hesitation. It was baby powder, but she must have bought a travel size version of something. That’s why I didn’t realize what it was until she was popping off the lid. The small puff of white belatedly clued me in, and the vaguely familiar smell confirmed my immediate suspicion. ‘Kate, don’t!’ The words were on the tip of my tongue, but the silicone nipple kept me from blurting them out. That hesitation was enough to remind me of her recent warning to not break the pacifier rules. Suddenly feeling super limited in terms of options, I simply shook my head with wide eyes. The motion was a little more assertive than when I answered her questions with a nonverbal ‘no,’ and I was once again subjected to the pigtails bouncing around in response to my movements. There wasn’t time to worry about the immature hairstyle. I did NOT need baby powder! Kate seemed to disagree. “This is for your own good, Annie.” With her usual little smirk, she tipped the bottle over and gave it a good shake once it was positioned over my crotch. ------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Road Trip" (105+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter One Roxanne stood at the front of her classroom, with all eyes on her as she was suddenly put on the spot by one of her more difficult students. She had only been teaching at the boarding school for a few months, and regularly struggled when it came to controlling her classes or projecting authority. For starters, she was shorter than almost every girl she was supposed to be in charge of. Standing at 4’11”, even the three inch heels she wore every day only did so much to make her look taller and more mature. She also dressed more formally than any of the faculty and staff to offset her size, which made connecting with them more difficult than it already was as a new hire. As for her students, it didn’t take them long to figure out that she was kind of a pushover, or a bit of a controlling bitch whenever she finally had too much of their nonsense and ended up overreacting to the point of swinging to the complete opposite end of the personality spectrum. On this particular day, she had been lecturing the class about how they needed to be applying themselves more. She both looked and sounded a bit stuck-up, with her long brunette hair up in a bun like it almost always was, and speaking in a bossy tone that none of the more popular girls ever took seriously. “What’s in it for us, Ms. Rosy?” Cynthia asked, raising her hand at the same time she interrupted. Cynthia Lott. She was a senior, and a dedicated troublemaker in Roxanne’s class. Not just because she pounced at every opportunity she could make for herself, but also in that she knew just what to say and how to act to avoid getting written up or sent to the office. She constantly undermined Roxanne’s efforts to be taken seriously, and always managed to get away with it. Like how it was ‘Ms. Rose,’ not ‘Ms. Rosy.’ Except every time Roxanne corrected her, Cynthia played dumb and apologized, claiming that it was just a habit from having a babysitter named ‘Ms. Rosy,’ and how she promised to do better moving forward. Again, and again, and again. Roxanne was hesitant to get the girl in trouble for it, as she was nervous Cynthia would challenge the write-up. After all, was Roxanne really wasting her energy on petty mistakes like that, when she should be focused on teaching? Roxanne could also only correct Cynthia so many times before it became an awkward broken record effect, at which point she gave up and started to let it slide. Thankfully, it didn’t catch on, though it was a constant thorn in Roxanne’s side. That was just one example. Another was the way Cynthia spoke up without waiting to be called on, while technically being respectful by raising her hand. Since it was a class of eighteen year olds, Roxanne felt weird about enforcing the rule about waiting until permission was given to speak; they were theoretically mature enough to be treated like adults, even if Cynthia and her trio of popular girls could be bratty more often than not. The small group reminded Roxanne of some of the popular girls she went to school with growing up, which meant that their influence went a long way. So far, Cynthia had done nothing but make Roxanne’s first year difficult, but maybe it was possible to win her over and get the others to respect her more. So far, Roxanne had made no progress on that front, though she was still hoping to find some common ground with the girl. “What do you mean, what’s in it for you?” Roxanne asked, treating the question as if it were serious when the answer should be obvious, “Higher test grades boost your GPA, and-” “And college applications, and our future, and whatever,” Cynthia rolled her eyes, “We’ve heard it a million times. I mean, what will you do for us? Don’t we deserve a little something if we all get a B or higher on our next test?” That wasn’t exactly how it was supposed to work. A good grade was its own reward. The problem was, Cynthia’s dismissive list was basically what Roxanne had been building towards in her little speech. There was going to be no power behind those words now that they had all been predicted with a teenager’s attitude behind them. “How about an A or higher?” Roxanne countered, doing her best to think on her feet. While everyone earning a B would be an improvement, it really only required a handful of her students to step up. It would be a much more impressive feat if everyone studied really hard and got an A. Still, she had no idea what a suitable reward would be. Her first impulse was a pizza party, cliché as it was, except this was her first class of the day and offering something like breakfast sounded more involved and disruptive. “Sure,” Cynthia shrugged, “So, what if everyone aces the next test? What do we get out of it?” “Well, what would you want?” Roxanne asked. She couldn’t think of something that might entice a whole class of girls, some of whom had already started their senior slide. It didn’t sound like Cynthia was fishing for anything specific, and Roxanne still had veto power if she or one of the others came up with something that was inappropriate or not possible. “Hmm,” the popular girl mused, “It would have to be something good.” “What if she gets us all coffee for a week? Or a month?” one of Cynthia’s friends suggested. “Or teaches class in her underwear?” the other one chimed in. As nearly everyone giggled in response to that suggestion, Roxanne lightly flushed and realized she was once again losing control of her class. The trio of popular girls was blatantly discussing amongst themselves for everyone to hear, when each of them should be raising their hand to contribute to whatever the class was talking about. This happened to some degree nearly every day, where Roxanne had to reel the girls back in and get them to focus on the lesson instead of whatever or whomever distracted them. Before Roxanne could shake the embarrassing image and get everyone’s attention, Cynthia latched onto it and said, “But, actually. All of us are girls, Ms. Rosy. Teaching in your underwear would be fine.” “No, it wouldn’t,” Roxanne put her foot down, “That wouldn’t be appropriate.” “So, you’ll bring us coffee every morning for a month? And bakery treats?” she replied, “We can pass around a sheet to write down our orders at the end of every class.” “No! That’s not-” she hesitated, recognizing that her tone wasn’t quite as firm and proper as she usually managed to maintain while in front of the classroom. Even if she wanted to offer such a reward, it simply wasn’t possible. Quick and dirty mental math was more than enough to estimate that she’d end up spending more than half her paycheck for something like that, not to mention the logistics of transporting 20+ cups of coffee to campus. “I could do coffee and treats for a day,” she compromised. More than half the girls present came from wealthy families, which meant admitting she couldn’t afford whatever would only make them take her less seriously. Cynthia scoffed. “A day? Do you think it will take all of us just a day to study?” She crossed her arms, going back to her other friend’s idea. “So, you won’t teach in your underwear. How about teaching in something else, then? Or is this whole ‘you deserve something for getting all A’s on a test’ nothing but talk?” It wasn’t all talk! Roxanne just hadn’t been given any time to think of something that her students might want to earn. This lecture was supposed to be about applying themselves as a concept, not an effort/reward system. Now that the snowball had started rolling, however, it didn’t look like she was going to get away from it. And since she was somewhat stuck in the conversation with Cynthia, there hadn’t yet been a good opportunity to suggest that they pick this up tomorrow after Roxanne had a night to think of potential ideas. “I meant what I said,” Roxanne insisted, before tentatively humoring the girl’s vague alternative, “Like, teaching in what? I’m expected to dress appropriately and professionally every day, Cynthia.” As in, no embarrassing costume or whatever. She glanced up in thought for a moment, then smirked. “How about you wear one of our uniforms?” Wait, what? It took a second for her words to process. All the boarding school girls were required to wear the same skirt/blazer combination, while teachers simply had to adhere to business casual at minimum. This was clearly a subtle jab about her size, as she’d look so much less mature if she dressed like a student. “Umm-” “Our uniforms are appropriate, yes? Isn’t the whole point of wearing these to make us proper young ladies, or whatever?” Something like that. “Yes, but-” “But, nothing. Come on, Ms. Rosy. Dressing in uniform for a day won’t kill you. How about we put it to a vote? Everyone who thinks Ms. Rosy should dress like us?” Cynthia raised her own hand to get the ball rolling; the other two girls in her trio followed suit, creating a domino effect that had the rest of the class raising their hands until every girl was voting for the idea. “There you go. So, you’ll do it? Unless you’d rather get us coffee for a month.” Just like that, everyone was on Cynthia’s side. Roxanne didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a totally unreasonable request, and it was difficult to argue against wearing something that the school approved of its students wearing. On top of that, there was the false dichotomy the girl tacked on at the end, as they both knew a single day of embarrassment was better than committing both money and an inconvenient amount of effort to the other option. “Sure,” Roxanne relented. Yeah, it would be awkward to dress the same as the girls in her class. At the same time, maybe this would make them more engaged, and win over the popular girls by playing along with their idea. Besides, there was still the important detail that it was only going to happen if each and every one of the girls present got an A the next time they had a test. It would only take a single B to avoid dressing like a schoolgirl; meanwhile, Roxanne hoped the challenge would encourage all the girls to actually study, which would maybe impress her colleagues and superiors with the higher grades that would come from that. “You have to say it, Ms. Rosy!” Cynthia insisted, “If we all get an A on our next test, you promise to dress in uniform. Say it.” She really didn’t want to. While a verbal commitment was a fair request, doing it because one of her students was demanding it felt wrong. There wasn’t a good way to refuse, however, or it would prove Cynthia’s accusation that Roxanne was ‘all talk.’ So she put on a brave face, standing a little bit taller in an attempt to create the image that she was still the one in charge and going along with this was her decision. “If you all ace your next test, I’ll dress in uniform for a day. I promise.” ------------- [One Month Later] Roxanne couldn’t believe it. The class had actually done it. Each and every one of them had received an A on their tests. They hadn’t collectively cheated, had they? Doing so would have been quite difficult, as she always handed out 3-4 different tests with the questions shuffled to avoid students looking to their neighbor for help, whether said neighbor was involved or not. Roxanne also paced the room, sometimes going so far as to stand in the back for a while so no one knew what visual angle she currently had. The academy had a rather strict policy on cheating, and she assumed a class full of seniors would know better than to risk it, but it was still worth being vigilant. Maybe they really had put in the effort. Studying together, making sure the weak links in the class were prepared for the material they’d be facing, etc. Did they all want her to dress in uniform that badly? It wasn’t exactly the most conventional form of motivation, though Roxanne had to admit that Cynthia was right in some capacity–the eighteen year olds at the academy had heard the same spiel over and over from various teachers and administrators. Apparently embarrassing their short/petite teacher was more enticing. There also wasn’t any wiggle room when it came to grading. The entire test was multiple choice, meaning she couldn’t nudge someone down to a B+ to avoid what she had promised. Even if she did have that option, Roxanne wasn’t selfish or unethical enough to lower someone’s score. She just had to accept that they all rose to the challenge, and feel reluctantly proud of the class despite the price she had to pay for their collective success. Roxanne handed the graded tests out on Thursday morning. She barely made it through three students before Cynthia raised her hand and spoke up. “Ms. Rosy? Can’t you just tell us how the class did?” As usual, not waiting to be called on, and using the slightly incorrect last name. It was difficult to dismiss the request, as the whole class was clearly engaged at the moment. That so rarely happened, when Roxanne wasn’t the best at maintaining control of the older girls as a new teacher. That, and the alternative was to make everyone wait until the last student was given her test back. Trying to split the difference, she responded as professionally as she was able, “It’s ‘Ms. Rose.’ Ask properly, and I’ll tell you.” There. That gave Roxanne a second to brace herself for the news she was about to give the class, while also not caving to Cynthia’s subtly yet not so subtly disrespectful antics. Cynthia let out a dramatic sigh. “Right. Ms. Rose. I forgot, again. Will you please tell us whether or not you’re going to be in uniform tomorrow?” As if she was the one who had the right to sigh. Roxanne was the one who had to deal with the class being more focused on the reward she was about to verify that they had earned, rather than how she’d prefer them to be proud of themselves for doing so much better than usual on a test. Keeping a straight face to the best of her ability, while continuing to walk from desk to desk to hand back one test at a time, Roxanne said, “I’m pleased to inform you that each and every one of you received an A. This goes to show that when you apply yourself-” “So you will be in uniform!” Cynthia affirmed. Cutting the young woman off, she stood up and pulled out a paper shopping bag from underneath her desk. “I brought one for you, just in case. It’s the uniform I wore when I was fifteen, back when I was about your size.” Pushing her luck a little bit by walking to the front of the room instead of remaining by her seat, Cynthia placed the bag down on Roxanne’s desk and pulled out a blazer that matched what every other girl in the room including herself was wearing. “Why don’t you come up here and try it on, Ms. Rosy?” “Please sit down, Cynthia,” Roxanne said. She regretted saying ‘please’ as soon as it slipped out, yet tried to remain firm with the rest of it. This was all moving more quickly than she had expected. The deal definitely hadn’t been that she would dress in uniform the very next day, but she had now failed twice to correct Cynthia on that point. Roxanne also had mixed feelings about wearing one of her student’s old uniforms. It was objectively easier than acquiring one through the school, though it was also embarrassing to be called out on how small she was compared to the popular girl who had outgrown her by sixteen. Cynthia crossed her arms. “Not until you prove to us that you’re not trying to worm out of your promise. Or is that what you’re trying to do?” It wasn’t! Roxanne was just in the middle of passing out graded tests. There was no reason to rush an account of one of her students being more bold than usual. At the same time, Roxanne was nervous for the same reason her insistence on ‘Ms. Rose’ didn’t stick. If Cynthia kept pushing back and Roxanne couldn’t figure out a mature way to discipline her, Roxanne’s authority as their teacher would be even more undermined. “Cynthia-” she started, but that’s as far as she got. “We’re all waiting on you, Ms. Rosy,” the girl at the front of the classroom said, suddenly speaking for all of her peers about how this needed to be resolved the second they got their tests back. “Hop to it, Miss! Come on, you owe us.” Roxanne resisted the urge to groan. Whatever. She could hand back the other half of the pile in a minute; everyone already knew how they did, anyway. “Back to your desk, Cynthia.” This time, no ‘please.’ Just because she was giving in and trying the blazer on in front of everyone didn’t mean that she was going to allow the popular girl to further take control of her classroom. “Yes, Ms Rosy,” Cynthia giggled. Apparently she knew better than to test an academy teacher too much, even if she could push the limits with Roxanne more than she would dare to do with the others. As the troublemaker returned to her seat, Roxanne reluctantly started to put on the uniform’s blazer to prove that she was a teacher of her word. And, when it fit almost perfectly, she knew she was going to be stuck wearing the whole ensemble the following day. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "Schoolgirl for a Day" (5+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 38 “Looks like she’s learning,” Ashley said, “Better late than never for our new student, I guess.” “Mm hmm,” Claire nodded, “Well, Millie? Let’s get you ready for your first full day here. And hey, at least it’s Saturday. No classes!” That actually was good, although not for the reason Claire meant. It was more that Amelia’s plan would be a lot more difficult to achieve if she was expected to follow a strict class to class schedule. Although it was still super frustrating to not be in the comfort of her own apartment on the weekend, at least she could potentially sort this out once she got a moment to herself. A few awkward seconds of silence passed before Amelia realized that they expected her to respond. It was impossible to keep up with the girls, considering how often both Ashley and Claire cut her off throughout their conversations. Until now, apparently. Still looking up at the young brunette, Amelia muttered, “Umm, yeah. No classes.” What more did they want from her? “Here, I can do your hair again,” Claire said. She stepped forward and placed her hand on Amelia’s upper back, nudging her forward towards the desk. “Anything else your little cousin needs to take care of, Ash?” “She still has to brush her teeth,” Ashley replied, “But hair can be first. Just don’t take forever; we are running a bit late thanks to a certain someone.” “Got it. You heard her, Millie. Sit. I’ll take care of this pretty hair of yours.” After Amelia reluctantly did as she was told and sat on the desk chair that had more or less been her prison that previous night, Claire got to work. Similar to last time, the brunette opted for a simple braid. Not objectively an immature look, as Amelia knew plenty of girls her own age that liked braids on themselves, but she was just as bitter as before in terms of how the style stole away one of her favorite features. Then again, her hair only looked amazing as it normally did thanks to her usual morning ritual of showering, blow drying, brushing, and rounding things off with the gentle curl. Amelia hadn’t seen herself in the mirror yet, but she had to imagine that sleeping on her blonde locks didn’t do her any favors. It was why she normally showered in the morning before anyone saw her. These bratty girls had robbed her of that opportunity, however, and she was long past fooling either of them. They both knew that she wasn’t quite as physically mature as she presented herself; hell, it was one of the things they were using to insist that she was a student when all three of them knew that it wasn’t actually true. “All done!” Claire announced, dusting her hands off for show after tying the tight braid. She placed her hands on Amelia’s shoulders and spoke more quietly near her ear. “How old are you, Millie?” Wincing a little bit from the proximity, even though Claire’s hushed voice still sounded rather normal despite the borderline suggestive distance, Amelia responded right away, “I’m thirteen years old, Ms. Claire.” As always, pushing through in the name of getting past the portion of the day that involved her and Ashley. After all, Amelia had been trusted without them yesterday afternoon, even after realizing she had been tricked. Only this time, she wasn’t going to be helpless and play right into their hands. “Sorry, what was that?” Claire asked, “I couldn’t quite hear you.” Resisting the urge to sigh, Amelia said more audibly, “I’m thirteen years old, Ms. Claire.” “You’re thirteen years old, Millie. You’re a transfer student.” Amelia didn’t know what to say to that. Echoing the whole thing felt silly, so she just gave a tiny nod instead. “Now, go let your older cousin help you with the rest of your uniform.” Not needing to be told twice, the petite blonde slipped away from Claire’s contact and out of the chair. She walked back towards Ashley and the last couple outfit pieces still on the hanger, and ended up faced with a similar face to face ordeal with her ‘cousin’ that she already dealt with after Claire’s pushy hug. Ashley placed both of her hands on Amelia’s shoulders, towering over the girl thanks to the combination of her natural height and her heels. “How old are you, Millie?” she asked the increasingly familiar question. ‘Seriously?’ Amelia thought to herself. As humiliated as she was about this continuous charade she was stuck in, complete with literally spending the night here, she also wasn’t an idiot. As a recent college grad, she had plenty of intelligence outside of the kind required for the academy’s aptitude test. Were these teenagers trying to condition her? It was a pretty transparent effort on their part, but it also wasn’t like Amelia could call them out on it or even scowl and refuse. Besides, it’s not like something so simple would work on her; she knew her real age, even if she was stuck pretending otherwise. “I’m thirteen years old, Ashley,” she said. No formal title. The dark haired bitch wasn’t a prefect, and Amelia wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of accidentally stumbling into an unnecessarily proper address. Similar to Claire’s tactic, Ashley said, “One more time, Millie?” This time around, Amelia did sigh. “I’m thirteen years old, Ashley. I’m a transfer student. I’m your younger cousin. I need to develop physically and intellectually.” Saying all the ridiculous concepts back to back softened the blow of each of them, and would hopefully instill that she wasn’t a total pushover. Granted, she had allowed this to snowball pretty far, but she was still clinging to the underlying truth that she was the adult here and Ashley was a spoiled brat who was abusing her office privileges and having fun at Amelia’s expense. However, just like Amelia couldn’t call out the blatant conditioning attempts, she also couldn’t spit out any of that, either. Seemingly unfazed by the flippant response, Ashley just said, “See? She’s learning. Although watch the attitude, little cousin. If you’re going to be difficult, I’m sure our resident prefect would be happy to make you write lines. How about it, Claire? One thousand iterations for each of those lovely things Millie just admitted?” “Sounds about right,” Claire replied. “And if she was too slow, or the writing wasn’t legible enough? I could probably think of an additional penalty.” “Fun!” Ashley chirped. She held Amelia’s gaze with a small smile, knowing full well that it didn’t take much to make the girl behave under her current circumstances. “Okay, Millie. Tell me your age one more time, and then we can get you dressed for school like the transfer student that you are. Already regretting letting her emotions get the better of her, when everything so far had been in the efforts to make the morning go as smoothly as possible, Amelia responded right away. “I’m thirteen years old, Ashley.” “You’re thirteen years old, Millie,” she repeated, intentionally using the nickname as frequently as possible throughout the casual conditioning. “Hmm, how about, ‘Please, my amazing older cousin Ashley, will you help me get dressed for the day?’” She gave a nice, long pause after the suggested words, before lightly laughing and stepping back. “I’m kidding, Millie. Loosen up a little, will you?” Not wanting to say the wrong thing, Amelia merely stood there and quietly waited. “You should really smile more,” Ashley said, “Maybe we should play yesterday’s game. Your phone is just as waterproof as before, isn’t it?” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Teaching Assistant" (65+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter Nine As I learned over the course of the following hour or two, a day at camp wasn’t nearly as strict as the routine I was used to at school. They still scheduled out time slots for meals and activities, but that was about it. After lunch, we could do pretty much anything we wanted. Mostly. As one of the girls explained to me, we had to stick with what was offered for the 7th/8th grade campers, and some things had an attendance limit. If we really wanted to do archery, for example, the best move was to be first in line at lunch and rush over to the area right afterwards. Luckily, nothing posted for the coming afternoon required that kind of effort. Arts & Crafts sounded most enticing to me, just because I would rather do something indoors. However, my group was most interested in the hike. I didn’t have to go with them. Cabins weren’t required to stick together, and I could have opted to stay behind and sit around at the other activity. I was just hesitant to do that, since it would mean socializing and introducing myself as a camper all over again to a bunch of new girls. While it was still plenty embarrassing that my bunkmates perceived me as a peer, we had already settled into a dynamic that I was used to. I ended up not showering, since it didn’t make any sense. Going on a summer hike would just get me sweaty all over again. Mckenna had assured me that being a counselor meant that we’d be supervising games and activities more often than not, which had been the case during the Dodgeball tournament. Meanwhile, I had to actually participate as a camper, which is why I already looked so much less put together than I had a few hours ago. There just wasn’t anything I could do about it, unless I rinsed off 2-3 times a day. Following Bailey and the others to the meeting spot, knowing from the conversations over lunch that half of them knew the trail like the back of their hand after doing it once or twice every year, I braced myself for however many miles of hiking I was about to be subjected to. According to the others, we’d be out for two hours or so, though that included a number of stops to take in the view and/or to give everyone a small break. I had easily walked two to three times that length at the mall, with shopping that kind of paralleled the snack/water stops we’d be making here. Of course, it wasn’t the same at all; being out with my friends in a nice outfit was far preferable to trudging around outside while looking like a tween. Mckenna wasn’t one of the counselors leading the hike, unfortunately. If she was, I could have maybe found some time to talk with her about getting some credit for how Circle B placed earlier. Despite how I had reluctantly agreed to remain as a camper for the full two weeks in exchange for her not telling anyone about how easily everyone believed the false age, I was still kind of in denial about my stay. Partly because Mckenna had already suggested that there might be some wiggle room, provided I play along instead of just existing at Camp Firefly and doing the bare minimum. On the flip side, my sister’s absence meant that she wasn’t going to be around to watch for that, and I doubted she had tasked the other counselors with keeping tabs on me. There were so many campers, and I had to assume that the more enthusiastic girls would be the ones drawing more attention. Also, hiking wasn’t nearly as involved as Dodgeball; all I had to do was walk. The other bit of good news was that there was a lot less pressure to talk to everyone. As the group of twenty or thirty campers settled into a spaced out line of sorts on the trail, it was impossible to walk clumped together like the girls in my cabin often did when heading from place to place. Between the narrow path and the difficult terrain, it didn’t take long before conversations were confined to conversations with just one or two nearby girls. Naturally, I let Bailey and Rachel do the heavy lifting, and was content to be quiet like Ally unless addressed directly. Within thirty minutes, I was missing the mall. Though we weren’t hiking up a mountain or anything like that, there were still enough ups and downs to make my legs more sore than they would be on a normal walk, not to mention the heat that was a consistent thorn in my side. We really couldn’t have Camp Firefly tank tops and/or athletic tops? That would make so much more sense. Admittedly, the views were nice. An aesthetic angle of the lake, some interesting foliage, a good vantage point of the cabins in the distance once we were further along. If I had my phone and was wearing something else, I would have taken some selfies. By the time we had done the entire loop, I was ready to collapse. How did the other girls have so much energy? I was definitely in the minority and, unfortunately, taking a nap wasn’t an acceptable option when it came to choosing our next activity. Bailey and company opted for swimming. After seeing the lake from a couple sides and hiking parallel to it for a while, it had apparently drawn enough attention from the girls. Again, I found myself reluctantly tagging along. The other options didn’t sound that great, plus it was kind of like a shower. And I couldn’t deny that it would be refreshing after a long walk. Heading back to our cabin, I found myself grateful that the age and maturity of the girls meant that they still preferred changing more discreetly. While one or two of them were fine using a towel in the corner, everyone else was talking about making a quick trip to the bathroom. Good. I felt awkward enough glimpsing any of them in a bra, and it would be much better if I could use a stall while simultaneously avoiding the campers who were already at the point of not caring about that stuff like most of my peers were. It would also be nice to wear something of mine. Swimwear had been on the checklist for counselors as well, though obviously something more modest and comfortable than what my friends and I would wear to the pool. I chose a nice two piece that was pretty and good for any setting, and honestly anything would look better on me than a tee that matched everyone around me. Apparently Mckenna had thought of that, too. I hadn’t noticed before, as most of my clothes were still in the duffel. When I actually started looking through it for my matching swim set, I ended up finding something else waiting for me underneath a stack of shorts. She had replaced what I had packed with a bright pink one piece. ‘Ugh!’ The groan was internal, since there were still a handful of girls in the cabin and I didn’t want to cause a scene. Wasn’t I supposed to be thirteen? I hadn’t worn bright pinks or purples since at least 6th grade, or a one piece for that matter. While pink did look good on blondes, it was also a somewhat girly/immature color in other contexts. Digging through my duffel bag as if there was magically going to be an alternative in there when Mckenna had clearly taken the time to replace the swimwear I had initially packed, I huffed in annoyance after confirming that I was limited to the painfully bright option. As far as I could tell, that was all she had messed with when it came to my clothes. She probably anticipated that I might double check this or that before throwing the bag into the car; too many changes would have been obvious before we left, while the one piece folded underneath most of my other clothes managed to escape my notice until now. Could I swim in athletic shorts and a plain bra? No, that would look ridiculous in a completely different way. While I’d probably do that in a pinch if it was just me and my friends, I didn’t want to wear that to the lake in a setting like this. Reminding myself that no one actually knew me here, save for my sister, I resigned myself to putting on the pink one piece. Following a couple of my bunkmates to the bathroom and changing into the bright swimwear, I blushed to myself in the stall when I found that it was a perfect fit. How long had Mckenna been planning this? Not that long, considering when the conversation about camp came up, but still. I couldn’t believe she had left me with nothing but this to wear. “WOW.” Rachel gave me an amused look as I stepped out of the stall. She was wearing a simple, blue two piece, and also had a few inches on me. I didn’t need the nearby mirror to know that she would look like the more mature girl between the two of us. “Trying to get someone’s attention, Maddie?” What did that mean? I couldn’t tell if she was just teasing about the color, or if she was implying that I had a crush. This was an all girl camp! Putting aside the fact that I was too old to be interested in anyone but the counselors, I also wasn’t into girls. One of the reasons I decided to sign up for a Camp Firefly job in the first place was so I could see a guy that I liked this summer. “Umm, no,” I muttered. For a second, I considered lying and saying that pink was my favorite color. Instead, I went with, “This is my old swimsuit. The strap on my other one broke last week.” Believable enough, even if the truth was that I had multiple bikini tops and bottoms to choose from back home. She shrugged. “Well, it’s cute. And it’ll be easy to find you if you get lost!” Something told me that wasn’t going to happen. Between the buddy system and how our little group had stuck together all day so far, I doubted I’d end up separated from them on the way to the lake. Speaking of which . . . The lake was clean, right? I had only really ever been to the beach, and had heard mixed reviews about smaller bodies of water. It had to be fine, if they allowed a bunch of campers to swim in it. By the time our whole cabin was ready, Circle B was nearly empty. Bailey assured us that being late was fine; that was better than rushing and leaving a girl behind, plus the hikes tended to take a little extra time compared to the activities closer to the main area. Worst case scenario, we wouldn’t be able to jump in mid-game if the girls on the sand or in the water had already started something. Personally, I wanted to get in the water ASAP. Not because of the temperature, but because the one piece would give me such an unflattering tan if I got too much sun. I was probably already going to end up with a bit of a farmer’s tan from wearing the camper tee most of the time; an outline of the immature swimwear would only make things worse. When the lake came into view, I grimaced upon seeing just how many campers had made the same decision we had for the afternoon. Unlike the options offered earlier in the day, it didn’t seem like they were restricting this activity to just one or two grades. From afar, I could see a big game of beach volleyball being played on the sand, what looked like water polo in the lake, and then just a lot of socializing happening in clumps of various sizes both in and out of the lake. Just like Dodgeball, there were a lot of counselors around making sure that the chaos was organized, as well as a couple who were in the classic lifeguard red swimwear standing around and watching the girls in the water. Was Mckenna down there? We were still a little too far away for me to see if one of the two blonde counselors I spotted was my sister. The girls around me had an entirely different reaction. While I hesitated for a moment, wanting to pick a different activity while knowing full well it was too late to change back into normal clothes and go somewhere else, the others picked up the pace and excitedly sped-walk towards the shore. I was committed at this point, and could maybe find a moment to talk with Mckenna if she was down there. Though our initial conversation about me being a camper had felt somewhat final, I still wanted to check in with her about the Dodgeball results and maybe an alternative Circle B win that would work in my favor. Knowing her, she’d make me wait until tomorrow. Same deal as the first ranked game, only after spending a full day at camp and another night in that cabin. I followed the rest of my group down the trail, not nearly as bold as they were when it came to running around barefoot, feeling much more comfortable once I was on the sand. As with everything else at Camp Firefly, however, whatever relief I found had a habit of being short-lived. “Maddie!” Bailey called out to me from the edge of the water, “They’re starting a new game of water polo. Come on, hurry! We’ll have to sit out until the next one if we miss it.” This time, I hesitated a lot more. While Bailey’s enthusiastic invitation aligned with my plan to avoid the afternoon sun, that didn’t mean I wanted to jump right into a game. Couldn’t we just hang out in the water, or whatever? That’s what plenty of other girls were doing. On the other hand, Mckenna had made a whole thing about participating earlier. If she was here, and saw me just sitting on the sidelines, it would be harder to make my case. That, and there was the usual peer pressure of being the only girl in our small group not yet in the water. The bright pink one piece would also be less of an immature beacon if I wasn’t standing around. Sighing to myself, I decided to continue sticking with my bunkmates; I could look for Mckenna from a distance and eventually head her way when I had a chance. Completely clueless as to the rules of water polo, save for the broad concept of it being somewhat like basketball in the water, I followed the other girls into the lake. ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 35 “What the fuck . . . ?” The murmured question escaped my lips without me even thinking about it. Briefly glancing towards the closed bathroom door, since Noelle had gotten on my case about swearing before, I turned my attention back to the problem at hand after assuring myself that my quieter tone wouldn’t have been heard in my bedroom. There was also a chance she was already gone, at least long enough to toss my sheets in the washer. Either way, I had more pressing things to deal with. Putting aside the fact that the white panties were soaked and embarrassingly yellow now that I could see them inside my partially pulled down shorts, I was still processing the follow-up visual that was shocking in its own regard. I had only gotten my bottoms halfway down my thighs, so I was stuck dealing with that first. I wasn’t really sure what to do with my clothes, either. After a moment’s hesitation, I settled on dropping them in the corner by the toilet. It would be simple enough to wipe down a wet spot on the floor. I was level-headed enough to turn on the shower right afterwards, though my mind was racing the entire time. Pretty much the second I stepped under the water, I gave my private area a more thorough look. All my hair was gone. I wasn’t going crazy; it had been there last night when I had rinsed off before bed. Did Paige or one of her friends sneak in and shave me last night?! That was taking this whole ‘Miley’ thing way too far. It was so violating, too! Before, I had been certain that my sister had given me a pill that had somehow caused me to wet the bed. There was definitely medication for stuff like that, although I wasn’t really familiar with it. Now that I was looking down at my bare womanhood, however, I was starting to suspect it was some kind of sleeping pill. There was no way I would have slept through wet sheets and having my hair removed in such a personal spot. I wasn’t exactly the lightest sleeper, but I definitely would have woken up to that under normal circumstances. I probably couldn’t prove it, however. Noelle was completely biased against me, and she had literally just rejected my assertion that this was somehow Paige’s fault. If I started up with that again, even if I was right, I would just look even worse than I already did. For the time being, I simply tackled the task at hand. Being careful to not let my hair get wet, as I had just showered last night and didn’t need to go through the whole process again, I thoroughly scrubbed down everything below my waist. Just to be safe, I hit my lower back as well. By the time I turned the water off, I was no closer to a solution than I had been before. It’s not like I could walk up to Noelle and tell her that my sister shaved me. As long as I was ‘Miley,’ I was going to be perceived as a troublesome younger girl. That’s when it hit me. Paige wasn’t just screwing with me for the sake of screwing with me. Being smooth in the one area that I normally maintained enough hair to signify that I was a young woman further served to make me appear younger. Still, that didn’t explain how I wet the bed! Was that just a combination of being put to bed earlier than usual and not waking up naturally to such an urge thanks to the pill? Or had Paige done something? This was all based on the assumption that it was a sleeping pill, of course. Now that I was faced with both wet sheets and a bare mound, it was more difficult to try and place how each of them happened without me waking up or my sister being caught. Giving a look of distaste to the crumpled, damp clothes in the corner, I reluctantly decided to leave them where they were for now. Partly because I was naked save for the towel, and partly because Noelle would be taking the washing machine for herself. Once I was dry, still reeling from the fact that my mature image had been altered for the worse down there, I cracked the bathroom door to make sure no one was waiting on the other side. When there was no stern babysitter or wicked step-sister within sight, I stepped back out into my room. I frowned when I saw that the door to the hallway was wide open. Paige’s sleepovers usually happened in her bedroom, despite how the basement was the bigger space and more logical space. Since they tended to set up their gaming stuff upstairs, however, that’s where they always eventually ended up settling. Normally that meant I had to deal with them disturbing the peace well after midnight. This time around, I was just worried they would see my stripped bed and toweled self. Anyone walking by and/or poking in for a patronizing ‘Good morning, Miley!’ would be yet another thing to deal with. I had enough on my plate at the moment, and I was quick to cross my room and close the door for the sake of privacy and self preservation. With a loud huff, I went to find something to wear. That meant starting with underwear, and my options were embarrassingly limited when I only had what Paige had left in my drawer. One way or another, I was going to be stuck wearing a training bra. With most of my nicer bras destroyed and the rest of them stashed away, I was stuck with the immature undergarments before me. As for panties, that was a question of whether I wanted to wear boring colors or one of the more childish/girly pairs left for me. On second thought, that wasn’t much of a choice at all. Just because I was stuck with demeaning options didn’t mean I couldn’t match. Not knowing how much time I had left before Noelle returned, I risked dropping the towel and hastily pulling on the plain, white panties. With my back to the door, I was less concerned about being topless for a few seconds as I dealt with the bra. Similar to the one I was given yesterday, the training bra was about half a size too small. The slightly too-tight fabric, as well as the unsexy cut, made it look like my chest barely existed. Or to Noelle, probably like I was just starting to develop. I still wasn’t over the fact that Paige and/or one of her friends shaved me. Putting underwear on was yet another reminder of how painfully immature I looked down there now. And that wasn’t all I had to worry about. A muffled voice in the hall caused me to nervously glance over my shoulder and halfway reach for the towel crumpled on the floor. Just in case. Though I was no longer at risk of being exposed, I’d definitely prefer being seen in a towel than in the underwear combo I was currently sporting. Turning that direction did more than delay me a few seconds from looking through my drawers for an outfit. It also drew my attention to my bed. More accurately, my bare mattress that had a noticeable yellow patch where I had been sleeping that greatly contrasted the white surrounding it. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (70+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 40 It was not a pleasant smell. For the most part, the doubled pull-ups had done a decent job of keeping the scent of my mess at bay. Until now, the feeling of perpetually being stuck in the sagging underwear had been worse than anything else. But with the used underwear fully open thanks to Kate’s handiwork, I winced and crinkled my nose as I was hit by the awful wave. My sister and I had both babysat before, so it’s not like I hadn’t dealt with such an experience before, but it was SO much worse knowing that it was coming from my own underwear. “Wow, Annie. Good thing you were wearing your pull-ups, huh?” Kate looked more amused than ever, and was clearly unfazed by the smell permeating the bathroom as I splayed my legs and exposed my dirty everything for my own sister to see. “Can you imagine if I had let you wear your normal underwear for the drive? You should really listen to me more often, little sis. Clearly I know what’s best for you.” Brat. But what could I say? I was beyond embarrassed and exposed in my current state, and so close to being done with this literal and figurative mess. No way would I give Kate the satisfaction of dragging this out even more. “You know what’s best, Kate,” I said. Pushing that same fake smile onto my face, and trying my best to pretend that none of this was bothering me. “Mm hmm,” she hummed. Pulling out her phone with a smug little smirk, she said, “Remember, Annie. No complaining, or we’re going to keep you in diapers for two weeks.” And with that, she trained her camera right on me. I gasped, but also froze. The verbal reaction of ’Kate, don’t!’ was on the tip of my tongue, but the conditions I had agreed to and promised gave me pause when Kate echoed them back to me. No complaining. Would that count? It didn’t matter. My hesitation was enough for her to snap the most damning photos she had taken yet. True, my lack of bra and make-up was a humiliating insight into just how immature I looked without the enhancements my daily morning ritual gave me, and a picture of me in pull-ups was terrible as well. But this was so, SO much worse. This was undeniable proof that I had used my pull-ups, and for more than just wetting. There would be no way of talking myself out of this. With the other pictures, I could have claimed a lot of things. The padded underwear was a dare. My top half was . . . photoshopped? No, I’d have to fess up to being flat and freckled if anyone saw me topless without make-up and in those stupid pigtails. But now? Kate had evidence of me on a changing table with, well, what was down there. “Kate, please,” I quietly begged, blushing up a storm, “Delete those.” She had definitely taken more than one, as I had been subjected to each audible click thanks to the way she left her volume on. Without missing a beat, Kate raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you complaining, Annie?” With an extra week of diapers potentially on the line, as well as an even more frustrating changing process, I backed off immediately. “No. Of course not.” “Good,” she nodded, “Now, lift that cute little ass of yours up for me, okay?” “Umm-” “Right now, Annie.” I did as I was told. Once again, I was worried about the stability of the changing table as I braced my hands on the sides and shifted my body to raise my backside off the mess. While it still felt wrong to be splayed so inappropriately, paired with a slow upward lift of my pelvis, there actually was some relief when I no longer had to lie in the mess I had been sitting and walking around in for hours. “Stay right there,” Kate said. She left me awkwardly suspended above the pull-ups and went back to the counter to put the scissors away and grab the diapers we had gotten earlier. Casually opening the pack, she placed a single pair down next to the sink before looting through the bag of stuff she had bought without me. Her body was blocking my view, so I just had to impatiently hold myself up while I waited. When she finally turned around, she had on disposable gloves and approached me with a handful of wet wipes. “You’re lucky to have an older sister with experience, Annie,” she said. Not wasting any time, she gave one of my lower cheeks a few quick wipes. Pausing for a moment to drop the previous wipe, she then did the same thing on the opposite cheek. Not enough to truly clean me; even though I couldn’t really see what she was doing, it was pretty clear it was more that she was doing a haphazard first pass. “You really are something, sis. Seriously, padding your bras? Wearing heels all the time? Who are you trying to fool?” The honest to God answer was ‘everyone.’ It wasn’t my fault I was screwed over by puberty. I was just trying to look like the college girl that I actually was. And the heels were the only things that were obvious, at least to other girls. I typically got away with the rest. As for Kate’s questions, I didn’t have anything to say. Mostly because I couldn’t tell if it was rhetorical teasing or actual curiosity. Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she slipped the full pull-ups away from where they had just been underneath me while telling me to stay how I was. My arms were threatening to give out, but I obeyed. She carelessly disposed of the used underwear in the nearby trash can; it wasn’t at all the proper way to handle messes like that, but I wasn’t about to complain. At this point, I had earned a little selfishness, and didn’t particularly care that Kate was doing things the lazy way. She removed the gloves as well, tossing them away as I slightly wobbled on my arms. Another minute or two and I would have given out, but Kate returned a few seconds later and opened up one of the diapers and placed it beneath me. “Annie, Annie, Annie,” she said. I had already been noticing the constant way she had been addressing me with the childish nickname over the last minute or two, but this just drew more attention to it, “You really are a mess, aren’t you? It’s one thing to look like a tween at your age, but something else entirely to act like one.” She paused, lips pursing in that same victorious smile. “Now, be a good girl. Down.” Kate slapped one of my ankles with enough force that my barely existent balance was totally thrown off. It was sudden enough that I didn’t have time to adjust my position. Slipping immediately, and not having the strength in my arms after holding myself up for so long, I roughly landed back down on the changing table. A single diaper wasn’t nearly enough to protect my tailbone from the hard plastic, and I winced in discomfort. “Kate-” “Hush, Annie. Do you want to wear your diapers for one week, or two?” This time, it apparently wasn’t rhetorical. My awkward silence was met with an insistence that I needed to answer. “One . . . ” I chose. And, when she pushed for a full answer, I reluctantly said, “I want to wear my diapers for a week.” I knew exactly what she was doing, but it was the same problem as always. Since I still needed her help and her silence/secrecy, there was an unspoken implication that I was going to continue playing along. Now I wasn’t just agreeing to wear diapers for a week. She got me to say that I wanted to, even though we both knew that wasn’t really the case. At least her camera wasn’t out. “Because you don’t trust yourself not to have accidents? Or because it actually looks like you have an ass when you’re all diapered up?” Kate said. So casually insulting, and there was nothing I could say in response. “Wait right here. We’ll deal with the rest of your mess in a second. But first, I got you a present.” She stepped away yet again to her stash of purchased items, and returned holding up a blue pacifier. “Do you like it?” “Umm . . . ” I hesitated. No good answers for that, either. But I knew my sister well enough, and was beginning to tell when she did and didn’t want me to reply. “Yeah,” I said, pushing a small smile onto my face, “It’s, like, super cute.” “I know. And it matches your outfit!” she exclaimed, “Now, Annie, do you remember the rules for your pacifier?” With that, she stepped forward and pushed it into my mouth. ------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Road Trip" (100+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Part 37 That got Amelia moving. Getting dressed in front of Ashley was bad enough, but the dark haired girl had already seen Amelia’s toweled form before putting her to bed. That was mildly comparable to the way the nearly nude blonde was about to be exposed. Claire had been absent for the last part of the demeaning evening, however, and Amelia would very much prefer to keep anyone else from seeing her undressed. At least then she could claim that it was the uniform that made her look so youthful, rather than her less than impressive body when Amelia didn’t have her usual morning routine to age herself up a little bit. As a young adult who looked more like a teenager when dressed casually, it was frustrating enough to be mistaken as a younger girl every now and then in her regular life. This was an entirely different level, and Amelia would do anything in her power to maintain some semblance of maturity despite how she was being set up to appear the total opposite of that. She awkwardly squirmed underneath the covers in order to wrestle the cotton underwear up her thighs as quickly as possible, then moved on to the bra. Trying to walk the line between being efficient without looking panicked, Amelia decided to bail on the sheets that had protected her modesty thus far. Instead, she swiveled herself to face the headboard. Her entire bare back was on display to Ashley, but it’s not like girls didn’t change like that all the time. Not Amelia, of course, but she had friends who would turn away for a quick change to avoid unnecessarily flashing everyone while still avoiding the hassle of going into the other room when they were comfortable enough with those present. Amelia hadn’t worn a training bra in years, but they weren’t particularly complicated to put on. When the childish undergarment was settled on her chest, she frowned a bit at the tightness on her chest. It was definitely a size too small, and a quick downward glance informed her that her already petite chest had been flattened down to two barely existent mounds. And she had thought that the shoes from the Lost and Found had been bad. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, unfortunately. Whether or not Ashley had intentionally found a bra that didn’t quite fit, it didn’t change the fact that Claire was on the way and Amelia was half naked. Sighing to herself, and trying not to blush as she turned and swung her legs over the side of the mattress, she stood up and allowed Ashley to see her in the matching white, cotton set. Of course, the smirky senior was happy to comment. “Yep, that’s about as small as I was when I was thirteen. Give or take. Looks like you still have some developing to do, Millie.” Amelia didn’t say a word. It was one thing to begrudgingly go along with this ‘transfer student’ thing. However, she wouldn’t let anyone else get a rise out of her; that had already gone poorly the last couple times, and her current image meant that raising her voice made her look more like an angsty teenager than a pissed off adult. Of course, it was slightly different with Ashley, as she knew Amelia’s real age. But the eighteen year old who had started all of this also had the power to prolong the elaborate prank and/or make it worse, which meant Amelia needed to choose her battles. Walking right past Ashley and pretending like she didn’t even hear the rude comment, Amelia pulled the familiar blazer off the hanger. Setting over the desk chair for a moment, she decided her chest was the best thing to cover in case Claire arrived before Amelia was done putting the uniform on for the second day in a row. She pulled on the white shirt and did a couple of the buttons before switching to the skirt using similar logic. Covering as much as possible was the way to go. Ashley didn’t make any further remarks, but Amelia could easily imagine the amusement on her face. After all, the girl had succeeded in extending this to the weekend, and Amelia was getting dressed as if she was actually a student. Again. And, unfortunately, Amelia only got as far as the skirt and the button-down before Claire was strutting into the room without even knocking. “Millie!” she exclaimed. Without any warning, she walked over and gave the short blonde a hug. “Good morning! Omg, you’re so cute. Did your boobs get smaller? How old are you again?” Amelia was very much caught off guard by the tight embrace, and the brunette prefect’s bubbly attitude made Amelia feel incredibly stupid for ever believing that ‘Mrs. Thompson’ was an administrator. This girl was very clearly a teenager, even if she had the ability to put on a more authoritative air when necessary. The physical contact, as well as the back to back observations, made Amelia blush more than before. She hated being called ‘cute’ and, while her breasts were technically the same size as always, the training bra she had on was much less flattering than the expensive push-up one she wore yesterday. “Umm, Millie?” Ashley said, “A prefect just asked you a question. I’d hate for you to get an infraction so early in the day. Don’t you remember our deal?” Truthfully, no. The impossible conversation about Amelia’s stay had pushed and pulled her in so many directions, to the point where it was difficult to keep track of all the details. At the end, Ashley had harped on how Amelia needed to ‘develop physically and intellectually,’ but that’s not where they had started. There had been something about ‘no infractions,’ and maybe something about proving her maturity? Although it didn’t really matter. With the tunnel vision she currently had in regards to accessing a computer, the only real focus was on not complicating things until then. “Thirteen,” she mumbled. Both questions had seemed teasing and rhetorical until Ashley had insisted on an answer; of the two, the latter felt like the only one worth replying to. Finally pulling back from the awkward, prolonged hug, Claire kept her hands on Amelia’s back to ensure that they stayed close, but loosened her grip at the same time. “Westridge girls speak properly, Millie,” she said. Her perky attitude had done a total 180; she was stern and intimidating, especially due to the height difference. Amelia was still barefoot, but Claire was wearing heels that gave her an extra inch. “Try again. How old are you?” In the back of her mind, Amelia knew that she was older than Claire and shouldn’t feel so vulnerable from such a simple social pivot. After the last 24 hours or so, however, it was difficult to think about the way she would normally respond to something like this. That, and she had never dealt with anyone addressing her like this. The proximity and the way Amelia had to slightly crane her neck to meet the girl’s eyes just piled onto the nervous and self conscious feelings that she was suddenly caught up in. “I’m thirteen years old . . . Ms. Claire,” she said, belatedly remembering the rule about academy authority figures that included prefects. “That’s better,” Claire nodded, “You’re thirteen years old. Not an adult, then?” Amelia’s blush darkened. “No . . . I’m a transfer student, Ms. Claire. Until I develop physically and intellectually.” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Teaching Assistant" (65+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter Fifteen June rounded out Elizabeth’s punishment by sitting the regressed girl down at the small hotel suite desk and placing the notebook from before in front of her. Elizabeth was to sit there and continue writing lines. ‘My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.’ One thousand lines. Ten times more than she had been told to do during the pitch to Ruth’s company. Elizabeth was allowed to get up to use the bathroom, but otherwise was to stay put and keep at it until she was done. That, or until June returned from dinner. Even in June’s absence, Elizabeth was too intimidated to defy her. Shifting uncomfortably on her sore backside, while also unable to ignore the braces that she had so recently been given, she started writing the demeaning words that felt a lot more real than they had the first time around. Obviously, she knew that June wasn’t actually her aunt. But the rest? Right now, it was clear who was in charge. As for the rest, she had been called ‘Lizzie’ all day and thoroughly stripped of her adulthood along the way. She just needed to get this trip over with. As soon as they were back home, things would be back to normal. Somewhat. Elizabeth still had no idea what her professional future would look like, and her outburst at dinner meant that she was no longer able to observe whatever June and Mr. Evans were talking about. By the time Elizabeth had completed the tedious assignment, her hand had cramped up countless times and her handwriting had only gotten worse with every fifty iterations of the required lines. Each of the three sentences was also seared into her mind by the end; she knew that it was blatant conditioning, yet it still worked to some degree between the repetition and how she wrote the words again and again and again after a full day of June treating her like a tween. June still wasn’t back. As badly as Elizabeth wanted to stay up and make another attempt at having a serious conversation with her assistant, she was absolutely exhausted. That, and there really wasn’t a point in trying. Until she was wearing her own clothes and officially out of the aunt/niece dynamic, Elizabeth was only going to get spanked again if she tried to insist on anything other than what June had extended well beyond the single meeting the disguise was supposed to have been for. So, Elizabeth brushed her teeth and went to bed. She didn’t know what else to do, and it was better than falling asleep on the sofa; considering how much her eyelids were drooping, that was a very real possibility. Better to sleep properly, rather than looking like a tuckered out little girl who couldn’t stay awake in the common area of their suite. The next thing Elizabeth knew, she was being jostled awake. “Lizzie! Get up. Hurry and get dressed, okay? We need to leave for the airport soon!” June pulled the comforter off the still groggy girl, using the sudden cold to ensure she would listen sooner rather than later. With the sunlight streaming into the room, it was a miracle Elizabeth had slept as late as she had. Still, she wasn’t prepared for such a rude awakening. As if June’s methods weren’t enough, Elizabeth also got slapped with reality as she winced in tiredness and felt the metal against her gums. Right. This wasn’t her waking up like she normally would. She was still ‘Lizzie,’ and June was still very much in bossy aunt mode. Unlike the previous morning, June didn’t leave her alone for a single second. She handed Elizabeth a pair of jean shorts and a dark pink t-shirt, a combo that was just as immature as what she had worn yesterday, standing there and supervising her as she got dressed as a way to encourage her to do so as quickly as possible. June tossed the PJs into Maggie’s suitcase that was otherwise packed up, zipping it closed and carrying it to the other room while telling Elizabeth to brush her teeth. This was the second time Elizabeth was brushing around the new braces, and it was just as awkward and unfamiliar as before. To make matters worse, the bathroom was a lot more cramped when June let herself in to put the girl’s hair up into twintails again. While June wasn’t dressed quite as professionally as she had been for their presentations, her slacks/blouse combo was still quite the contrast to the borrowed tween clothes Elizabeth was wearing. A few minutes later, it really was time to go. Elizabeth’s toiletries were the last things to be stashed away in Maggie’s suitcase. Every one of her actions was being rushed, leaving her no time to speak up about all the things that had been going through her mind while tossing and turning before finally drifting off. As they made their way down to the lobby and then to the ride that was waiting for them outside, Elizabeth’s biggest question was about what was going to happen at the airport. Had June been called about the missing purse, and just not said anything about it? Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to get through security without her ID. She didn’t know how kids were handled by TSA, but she was fairly confident they needed some degree of identification. Looking like a tween wasn’t quite as bad as walking through the airport in pajamas, though it was still plenty embarrassing as June held her hand most of the time and dragged her along. The false age really didn’t line up with how she was being treated, not that Elizabeth had the time or energy to think about that too much. One way or another, she had fallen pretty far from how things had been at the office a few days ago. Meanwhile, June was loving every second of Elizabeth’s transformation and the new dynamic between them. Outwardly, she kept up the act of being a stern aunt, even if she could easily get away with being more smug towards her former boss at this point. For starters, little Lizzie still needed her. How else was she going to get home? That, and dinner with Mr. Evans had been lovely. After a lot of discussion, they settled on a plan that would allow June to transition into Elizabeth’s position while simultaneously training a new hire for the admin role. Since a bonus had already been budgeted for Elizabeth, it would be simple enough to give that to June instead to compensate her for the extra responsibilities during the coming weeks. This had all gone better than June had ever imagined. Her original plan had hardly been a plan at all. The only goal a couple days ago had been to subtly sabotage and embarrass Elizabeth in as many ways as possible; since June was going to be fired either way, she had no reason to be a good assistant any more. Once ‘Lizzie’ had been stuck with such a limited wardrobe, however, June started thinking bigger. The only real complication left at this point was that Elizabeth’s driver’s license stated her real age. That, and the fact that June was in possession of it, when she had led the bratty young woman to believe that it had been left on the plane when they arrived the other day. June was also somewhat worried about security, as the tween image very much clashed with what the agent would be seeing on the ID in a few minutes. She also really didn’t want Elizabeth to know that all of this had spun out from a set-up, as it was more fun to let her think a lot of this was technically her own fault, even if June had played a fairly active role in pushing things further than initially discussed. June handled it by telling Elizabeth to stay back for a minute when they reached the front of the line. She then handed both IDs to the agent, explaining that her colleague was a model who needed a youthful makeover for a photoshoot. After all, it’s easier to work with a petite adult than an actual child. The man in uniform gestured for Elizabeth to step forward, where he took a minute comparing her face to the picture on the license; thankfully, the facial recognition helped things along. Internally, June sighed in relief. She could handle Elizabeth’s coming question, but she couldn’t do anything about a TSA agent deciding to push the two of them for more details. While little Lizzie was a lot more submissive than she had been the previous morning, there was no telling how she’d react when a third party was involved. Sure enough, Elizabeth asked, “What was he looking at?” June had already tucked everything back into her purse, and it was perfectly natural to dismiss her immature ‘niece’ as long as they were in their current roles. “Not now, Lizzie,” she said, “You need to take off your shoes.” That was all Elizabeth needed to do. She had no phone or accessories; security would be simple, with the trade-off being that it was going to be a long travel day without anything to do in the airport or while on the plane. As badly as she wanted to press about what June had just used for security, Elizabeth merely huffed and bent over to untie the immature sneakers. It actually wouldn’t be that crazy for June to have some form of identification for her, considering how much personal information she was trusted with at the office. For June, it was smooth sailing once they made it through security and little Lizzie’s shoes were back on. June briefly considered being extra patronizing and tying the laces for her, though it really wasn’t necessary. She was more than content with the state of things, and the focus at this point was making it to their gate and making sure the girl continued to behave while they waited for their flight. The real question was what was going to happen once they were back. June had a lot of ideas at this point. She could do nothing at all, knowing that Lizzie’s plan to save room in the budget by letting June go had completely backfired. June could simply enjoy her Elizabeth-free life and take immense satisfaction in how the girl had lost her cushy job and would now be interviewing with braces and very little work experience on her résumé. Alternatively, June could figure out a way to keep Lizzie in niece mode and see just how far the tween conditioning could go. Maybe at some point, Lizzie would truly believe she deserved to be twelve. June certainly thought so, considering her size, her selfishness, and her overall immaturity. Once they were settled on the plane, June enacted her final idea of the trip. It was partly to keep Lizzie something to work on during the flight, and also to keep the girl nervous about what came after all this. Even though June hadn’t decided anything yet, she could let her former boss assume that she had. Pulling out a packet of worksheets designed for 6th graders that she had printed out after dinner with Mr. Evans, as June had plenty of time to kill between then and her more grown up bedtime, she placed the stapled stack of assignments onto Lizzie’s tray table and set down a pink pen for her to use. “Try to get the whole thing done before we land, Lizzie,” June said, “And work on your handwriting as you go, okay? Your lines from last night were almost illegible.” It was amusing to see how every page of Elizabeth’s writing got worse, no doubt from a combination of her hand getting tired as well as how anyone would get sloppy when faced with writing the same line over and over and over again. Elizabeth didn’t whine or protest in the slightest. She just glanced down at the first page, hesitantly picking up the girly pen and starting on the first question after a few seconds. Either she had fully accepted her current situation, and/or didn’t want to make a scene with so many others around. If June would berate her in a nice restaurant, she would likely do the same in business class. As soon as the youthful looking girl wasn’t looking, June smirked to herself. A few minutes later, she ordered herself some wine from the drink cart, deciding that orange juice was perfect for Lizzie. June took immense pleasure in sipping the more adult beverage, considering an equally cheap glass of wine was what kicked off her revenge on Elizabeth for constantly taking advantage of her and taking her for granted at work. Leaning back in her chair, June took another victory sip and continued idly brainstorming about how to proceed upon landing. By contrast, Lizzie was slightly leaning forward, working on the second page of her packet and feeling more and more like a little girl who needed to behave and stay out of trouble. Author's Note: This is the last chapter, with an open-ended conclusion per the commissioner's vision. The whole story is compiled on my website if you want to read it without comments between parts, and it will be available for purchase on my site in the near future like all my other completed stories, for anyone who might want an EPUB version for offline purposes. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

PART 34 Alyssa I woke up to someone knocking on my bedroom door. “Miley?” It was Noelle. In my groggy state, it took me a moment to remember the fact that this wasn’t my average summer morning. Thanks to my sister, I currently had a babysitter who believed I was the teenager who lived a few doors down. She gave two more firm knocks, then called through the door, “Miley, I’m coming in. It’s time to get up.” The frustrating thing was, I was actually the kind of girl who woke up fairly early. Always right when the alarm went off, too; I definitely didn’t need someone to wake me like Paige sometimes did for trips and events that required getting up before 7 AM. Not wanting Noelle’s first impression of me this morning to be the image of a cliché teen girl who was still sleeping even after a knock on the door, I shifted in my bed and started to sit up. Before I could get very far, my movements drew attention to the wetness beneath me. Gasping as I realized what that meant, and suddenly wide awake as I felt how my panties were clinging to me and that my bare thighs were pressing down into the damp sheets, I instinctively flung the covers off myself and leapt to my feet. “Fuck,” I whispered to myself. While I was plenty shocked and embarrassed about how I had somehow wet the bed, those emotions quickly took a backseat to the sudden urge I had to hop in the shower and wash myself off. Upon discovering the inexplicable overnight accident I had had, however, I completely forgot about Noelle. “You awake?” she asked, while opening the door and taking a single step inside. “WAIT.” Completely panicking and half tempted to dive back under the covers to keep Noelle from seeing what I had done, I tried to stall instead after glimpsing the soaked mattress in the dim morning light. “Umm, hold on. Give me a minute?” The problem was, I was clearly standing and dressed, and she could see that just by peeking in. “Nonsense. You’re already up,” Noelle said. With no warning, she flipped the switch by the door and turned on the overhead lights, “Remember, today’s your chance for a fresh start. You should really-” It was painfully obvious when she noticed by the way she cut herself off. “ . . . Did you wet the bed, Miley?” There was no hiding it. In my haste to get off the disgusting sheets, I had thrown the covers far enough away that the large wet spot was easily visible. And, of course, the noticeable darkness on my shorts made it evident that this hadn’t been a simple spill of a water glass or something. I had barely processed things myself, so I certainly wasn’t ready for Noelle to put me on the spot. “No, I, umm- It’s a prank or something!” When I first blurted it out, it was a combination of self preservation and the fact that Paige was almost always the one who made things difficult for me. The more I thought about it, however, the more sense it made. Between wetting the bed out of nowhere vs. being set up by my step-sister and her friends, the latter was far more likely. “Paige must have done something. I mean, I didn’t recognize that pill, and-” “Uh huh. It’s always your older sister out to get you, isn’t it? You know what I think? You’re trying to frame Paige. Because clearly a girl your age wouldn’t do something like this, so it’s all her fault. Or, maybe this is your way of getting back at me. Since I put you to bed early, you decided to have an ‘accident’ like a little girl.” She actually used air quotes. “And here I was, thinking we could start today on the right foot.” Wait, what? She thought I did this on purpose? That was insane. Then again, she believed I was Miley. Would the real brat do something so excessive to prove that she couldn’t be controlled? It didn’t really matter. For the time being, I was ‘Miley,’ and there was no way I was about to let Noelle think I would do that. “Of course not!” I protested, “I just . . . ” Just woke up to find out that I had wet myself overnight? I couldn’t think of a single excuse that wouldn’t make me look bad in one way or another. Noelle knew it, too. In retrospect, she had probably suggested those concepts for the sake of more efficiently trapping me into admitting the truth. “Which one is it, Miley? Was it an accident, or was it on purpose?” Neither. It was Paige. There was no way something like that would just happen to me, and on the exact night I was stuck with Miley’s babysitter. Except Noelle wouldn’t listen to me, as I had cried wolf too many times in her eyes. Paige had been nothing but polite and helpful when Noelle was in the room, and saved her real personality for when it was just me and her friends. Without being able to point the finger at the actual culprit, I was at a loss for words. “How about this?” she said, “Why don’t we call Paige in and ask her?” “No!” I exclaimed. Whether or not this was my sister’s fault, the last thing I needed was for her to see with her own eyes that I wet the bed. It would almost be worse than how she had witnessed me being spanked over Noelle’s lap. “I, umm- It was an accident,” I muttered. As humiliating as it was to confess that I wet the bed, whether I was eighteen or ‘thirteen,’ I wasn’t actually the rebellious teenager she thought I was. There was no way I could confidently claim I did something like that intentionally and have the right attitude to back it up. Nor would I want to, when that could potentially cause Noelle to escalate her intense babysitting methods. “Was that so difficult? You should try honesty more often, Miley,” Noelle closed the bedroom door, “Now, I do have some more questions for you, but they can wait a few minutes. Go rinse off. I’ll deal with your bedding. If you want this to stay between us, I expect you to behave like a proper young lady all morning. Do you think you can manage that?” I couldn’t believe it. She was using the bedwetting as a tactic to keep me in line! I shouldn’t have been that surprised, considering she was hired specifically because so many sitters before her had failed. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t really Miley, but I was stunned that Noelle would so quickly weaponize an experience that was humiliating enough by itself. At the same time, I was in no position to complain. I very much wanted to shower, and talking with Noelle for this long while my own pee was causing my panties to cling to me had been uncomfortable enough. Pretty much any response that wasn’t reluctant affirmation would result in an unwanted delay. I just gave an awkward nod of my head, then shuffled off to the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, I began peeling off my shorts and underwear together. Being careful to keep my hands clean and dry along the way, it wasn’t long before I noticed the unexpected bareness below my waist. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (70+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter Fourteen The evening began just like the morning did, with June holding Elizabeth’s hand as they stepped into the lobby. Then, Elizabeth knew exactly what their itinerary looked like, and had been reluctantly on board to go along with the unorthodox plan that her assistant had suggested. Now, she had no idea what to expect beyond ‘dinner.’ They were well past the point of no return, with Elizabeth dolled up and recently warned about her attitude; there was no way she’d be able to convince June to let her go back upstairs and hang out in the hotel suite like she did last night. June led her towards the dining room across the way. It was a rather short walk, though Elizabeth felt self conscious with every step. As usual, her disguise worked way too well; no one looked twice at her, since she actually looked like a child rather than a young adult in a ridiculous ensemble. As Elizabeth feared, they were having dinner with their boss. Who else, when he was the only person June knew at the hotel outside the clients she had met with today? He was already seated at a table near the corner; when Elizabeth spotted him, she froze and gripped June’s hand more tightly. She was tempted to run away, yet equally tempted to race up to him and somehow explain everything despite how it was difficult to keep track of everything as the girl who experienced the mortifying progression personally. Caught between two bad options, her feet ended up rooted to the floor in indecision. That, and the last interaction with the director of their department led to June dragging her to the bathroom and washing her mouth out with soap. Interpreting the hand squeeze as immature nervousness, June chuckled and said, “You’re fine, Lizzie. Dinner with grown-ups isn’t scary.” She only paused long enough to give her the patronizing reassurance, then gave Elizabeth’s arm a tug as she kept walking towards the table. Mr. Evans stood up and greeted June, shaking her hand before gesturing for her to take a seat and offering her some wine from the bottle he had already ordered. “And it’s nice to see you again, Lizzie,” he said, “We can get you something more than water if you’d like; I wasn’t sure what you might want.” Answering for her, June said, “She usually has a glass of milk with dinner. No rush, of course; water is good, too.” He really didn’t recognize her. Not that Elizabeth could blame him. She had seen her reflection a few times at this point, and only had so many interactions with the director of their department on any given week. Between her dyed hair, childish dress, and new braces, her current appearance was a far cry from how she normally presented herself. As if all of that wasn’t enough, the ‘drink order’ June suggested for her was something that most adults wouldn’t have at a nicer establishment like this. Before Elizabeth could decide whether or not to speak up about her situation, June placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Remember what we talked about, Lizzie. A well behaved girl speaks when she is spoken to. Can you sit there quietly while Mr. Evans and I discuss some adult things ? If you want, I can see if they can bring you a coloring book with your milk.” She wasn’t that young. Twelve years old was too mature to busy herself with crayons at a restaurant table. It had the intended effect of convincing her to stay quiet, to avoid being demeaned even further. “I’ll behave,” she mumbled, “I don’t need to color . . . ” “Good.” June turned to their boss with an apologetic smile. “Her parents really should have picked her up by now. I didn’t expect to be responsible for her for this long.” “It’s fine,” he said, “She clearly hasn’t been a distraction. You’ve been doing a wonderful job in Elizabeth’s absence; a few of the prospective clients have already gotten started on the paperwork, and most of the others have expressed interest in following up with us on Monday morning. I hope you don’t mind me getting right to business, but I was thinking about shifting you to a more managerial role, rather than an admin position.” Elizabeth tensed up. That was the exact opposite of what was supposed to happen to her assistant. The plan was to fire June within the month, not promote her to a position where a decision like that would be out of Elizabeth’s hands. “In what department, Mr. Evans?” June asked, playing it cool, “I wasn’t aware we had any openings.” She would know, due to her current responsibilities. “Originally, there had been discussion of creating an assistant manager position for you to shadow someone until you were ready for the next step. Nothing is officially decided yet, but there’s been talk of dividing one or two departments into smaller teams in order to streamline things. If we were to take that approach, it would make sense to train you to take over half of one of those teams, rather than replacing your immediate superior.” June nodded. “I can manage that. After juggling my admin responsibilities and being Ms. Harris’s assistant, I’m used to staying on top of everything required of me.” “May I ask you a question, June?” he said, “And please be candid with me; I’m not looking for a diplomatic response.” “Of course,” she replied, “Ask me anything, if it helps determine what my future here is going to look like.” “In your opinion, how much work does Elizabeth actually do on a daily basis?” he asked. “Hmm.” June paused long enough to take a sip of wine. Not wanting to seem too eager to throw her boss under the bus, even if everything she was about to say was the actual truth, she hesitated once more before getting into it. “If I’m being honest . . . very little. She makes me do most of it. Like I mentioned earlier, I was the one who put together the packets and the slideshows for this weekend. Most weeks, she has me do the prep work for her client meetings, as well as for the collaborations with our other departments. Not that I’m trying to take credit for everything. But, speaking candidly, she seems to use my assistant title as an excuse to push anything remotely clerical on me. Everyone else on our team picks up the slack when it comes to servicing our existing accounts, and whatever else she asks of them; I’m only around half the time, as I also need to tend to my administrative duties.” Elizabeth sat there in stunned silence as June talked about her in such a way. From her perspective, that is absolutely not how she ran things. The whole point of being a manager was to delegate things that weren’t big picture responsibilities. That’s why she had an assistant who could do all the grunt work. Elizabeth deserved a less hectic schedule; that was her reward for earning a higher position in the company. “We’ve had problems with people in such roles before,” Mr. Evans said, “Out of curiosity, do you think you could manage her team? It sounds like you already have a good grasp on most of Elizabeth’s day to day work.” “In theory,” June said, “I would need to look at the full scope of her job description before confidently saying that I could for sure, but I have a really good relationship with everyone in our department. I’d just need to get used to the responsibilities I’m not currently handling. Are you thinking about moving Elizabeth somewhere else?” Considering the negative way in which Elizabeth was being discussed, there was no point in pretending that this was going in the direction of little Lizzie’s desk needing to be filled because she was also being promoted. “Between you and me, I’m having doubts as to whether she’s a good fit with our company moving forward,” he said, “At best, I might let her stay on as a saleswoman, though I find most employees don’t take well to being demoted. It’s often cleaner to fire them outright, as paying out severance is less complicated than dealing with the resentment and lower quality of work that tends to follow from a pay cut.” “No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. He couldn’t do that!! She was the manager, and June was a fucking liar. This all started when Mr. Evans had been told that Elizabeth had taken an unapproved, last minute vacation. But she was sitting right next to him, and had only gone along with being June’s ‘niece’ due to the combination of not having anything else to wear and going the extra mile to land a client. “You can’t!” “LIZZIE.” June shot her a stern look, whisper-yelling to remind her that they were in public and to not make a scene. “You promised that you would behave. So, behave.” Absolutely not. ‘Behaving’ meant biting her tongue while her boss was talking about firing her. And this whole aunt/niece dynamic had already lasted way longer, and had been way more extreme, than she had anticipated. Elizabeth wasn’t going to just sit there and keep pretending when her job and her reputation were on the line. “Mr. Evans! It’s not true! I’m-” That’s as far as she got before June intervened. “Lizzie! We are in public.” Glaring daggers at the petite girl, June added, “Final warning. One more word out of you, and I’ll have to punish you properly.” “But-” Elizabeth started. She didn’t actually have anything to say off the top of her head, due to how flustered she was from all of this. June was her assistant, for fuck’s sake! Elizabeth was the one who was supposed to be yelling at her, rather than the other way around. Though Elizabeth cut herself off, June still counted the single word as going against what she had just warned her about. “I’m really sorry about her behavior, Mr. Evans,” she sighed, “Can we pick this up again in a few minutes? I thought she could handle a nice dinner, but clearly I was wrong. It’s probably best if I take her back upstairs before we continue.” “Not a problem at all,” he said, “It sounds like she’s had a long day. Better she has a tantrum in front of me than in front of our clients.” Elizabeth gasped. She was not having a tantrum! Hearing her boss talk about her like that was so much worse than suffering through a variety of strangers assuming she was so much younger and less mature than she actually was. “It’s not like that!” she insisted, “I’m not-” This time, she wasn’t cut off by June’s voice. Instead, the young woman grabbed one of her twintails and dragged her to her feet and away from the table. “OW. OhmyGodstopstopstop!!” Elizabeth squealed, “June! Fuck, don’t- Nooooo!” Ignoring her shrill protests, June simply apologized to those sitting nearby, assuring them that they were leaving and that the disruptive little girl wouldn’t be coming back. Similar to the last time June disciplined Elizabeth like this on the main floor of the hotel, she dragged the youthful looking girl through the lobby and towards the bathroom where she had washed her mouth out with soap. However, she changed course at the last second and made her way to the elevators with Elizabeth in tow. Still sounding quite shrill and whiny as her hair was being used in such an awful way, Elizabeth kept begging for her to let go. June didn’t listen, nor did anyone else in the vicinity. Everyone assumed she was some bratty girl causing a scene, being taken back to her room so she would no longer be a disruption. The second the elevator doors closed behind them, June gave her twintail a sharp yank and hissed, “Be quiet, Lizzie! I am so tired of dealing with your nonsense. You keep saying you’ll behave, and you keep causing problems.” “Mr. Evans can’t fire me!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She was way too worried about the conversation she had just sat through downstairs to play along with the aunt/niece thing that should have ended hours ago, “I’m not on vacation. I’m here! You need to tell him-” “I don’t need to do anything,” June said, “And you’ve been nothing but a bratty little girl this weekend. You overslept and almost made us miss our flight. You forgot your suitcase. You lost your purse. And what happened at my friend’s place? Oh, right. You couldn’t stay out of trouble with the other kids for five minutes. The truth is, Lizzie, you’re way less mature than Maggie is. There’s only one thing you deserve right now, and that’s a good spanking.” “No!!” Elizabeth blurted out. While June had threatened it a couple times now, Elizabeth was too old for a spanking. Plus she was June’s boss! Not that it had felt like that for quite some time. And based on everything Mr. Evans just said, Elizabeth wouldn’t be anyone’s boss for much longer unless she could undo all the damage that had been done over the last twelve hours or so. “Is that your favorite word?” June asked, in a mocking tone, “Lizzie. How old are you?” “I’m- I’m, umm,” she stammered. The real answer was ‘23,’ but she had written so many lines about being nearly half that age. Elizabeth was so flustered, and also knew that saying anything but what June was fishing for would land her in even more trouble. Stuck between wanting to assert that she was an adult and none of this was fair, or cave and say the false age that she was as June’s niece, Elizabeth ended up too indecisive to say anything at all. Answering for her, June said, “You’re twelve years old. Isn’t that right?” Twisting slightly on the twintail in warning, she met Elizabeth’s eyes and awaited her response. Elizabeth winced, then gave a meek nod. Her cheeks were bright red at this point, and not even the recent interaction with their boss was enough to give her the necessary backbone to argue against the woman who had been acting like her aunt all day. “That’s what I thought,” June said. In near perfect timing, the elevator stopped on their floor a few seconds later. “And who’s in charge?” Not waiting for a reply, she resumed dragging Elizabeth by her hair. This time, towards their hotel suite. Of course, the answer was, ‘Aunt June.’ Once they were back in the private common room of their small suite, June led Elizabeth by the hair until they were both in the bathroom. The only silver lining to this whole experience was that she was about to be disciplined here, rather than a more public place. First, June shoved the ‘bite size’ bar of soap into the girl’s mouth. “That’s for swearing downstairs.” Then, getting right to it, she bent Elizabeth over the sink and pulled the skirt of her childish dress up. “And this is what happens to bad little girls who misbehave at dinner.” “Nnmgh” That’s as far as she got. An attempt to say her immature ‘favorite word,’ which only came out so well when the bar of soap was on her tongue and gradually creating the bitter taste that was reminiscent of the first time June had put her through a similar punishment. She gasped as June’s hand cracked down onto her ass; the plain panties did very little to soften the blow, and her whole body jolted from the force of the slap. “Lizzie, shush,” June calmly yet firmly asked, before bringing her hand down on the opposite cheek. “Mm mmm!” Elizabeth shook her head, failing to follow her assistant’s simple instruction. Not when she was being spanked for the first time in her life. June just sighed. “Have it your way.” Then she got to work. It really was the perfect exercise to take out months of frustration. Every slap was another way to pay Elizabeth back for how she acted like a bitch at work. Treating her like an immature tween was one thing; this, however, felt a lot more personal. June didn’t let up until her hand was stinging to the point where she couldn’t deliver another slap. By the end of the spanking, tears were streaming down Elizabeth’s face and her muffled cries had faded to pathetic whines. “Look at yourself, Lizzie,” June demanded, just managing to keep a straight face despite the image she could see in the mirror. “Does that look like an adult to you?” Elizabeth’s ass was on fire. It took a second for June’s harsh question to register, and another few seconds for her to blink away the most recent tears in order to see her reflection. It was not a flattering sight. Dyed hair styled in twintails, pink braces, flushed cheeks stained with tears, drooling slightly from how the suds had built up in her mouth throughout the spanking, and in the childish blue dress that made her boobs look practically nonexistent. The thoroughly punished girl looking back at her was a far cry from the Elizabeth who strutted around the office in her power suits and bossed June and her other underlings around. She really did look twelve, too. “LIZZIE.” June ripped the soap out of the girl’s mouth, pinching her ass with her other hand. “I asked you a question. Are you an adult? Or a little girl?” “I- I’m a l-l-little girl . . . ” she stammered out right away. Anything to avoid being spanked again. “Look at yourself,” June echoed, “Really look.” She gave it a beat for it to really sink in for the defeated young woman. “You’re twelve years old, Lizzie. You are my niece. Act like it. One more step out of line, and I’ll drop you off at the nearest daycare and fly home without you.” ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia