Sophie ♥

Wow this Sophie sounds like a real great gal! She's such a grown up and I'm so excited to see her stay that way! I love the way you describe AI thinking btw. It has a feeling of like... Luna actually using language as a way of communicating in a 'human' manner, while also having some distorted computerized black and white ways of thinking. She chooses her words so carefully, but also is bound by her efficiency and efficacy. Keep it up! ❤️ ~Sophie

Yeah! This is elaborated on a lot more in Brilliant Bunny Brainwash I think??

Yeah. I uh.. just wanted to write some satire and make a SWAT team joke. I usually keep throat-slitting out my diaper narratives, but it's nice to know how someone would actually handle it given the proper training. I'm gonna handwave it as "some of her Dependent programming overrides those instincts" or whatever. Thanks for reading.

This is the only one I wrote solo, but Pudding and I did one about a new Dependent as she is regressed (Renee's Regression) and about investigating a Dependent facility (Brilliant Bunny Brainwash). Pudding also wrote a cute Dependent universe story for her babygirl (Bnuuy Brainwash). Pudding and I have also written a few captions to flesh out the world space a little... but I have no idea where those are nowadays. XDAdditionally! We did a tabletop podcast game that takes place in this universe, run by @bbykimmy. It's called The Changing Tabletop (link) and you'll want to skip Mystery Mansion (different game!) and do in:Dependent Parts 1-3. I hope this helps you navigate the fun dystopia we've built! Feel free to reply if you have any questions.~Sophie

I did!!! Thank you for noticing!!!

Glad you liked it! ❤️

Added A Mommy's Love by Sophie: Added Bnuuy Brainwash by Pudding: Added Lost in Translation by Sophie & Pudding and art by JuiceBox:

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding This one actually comes from an ABDL web-zine we worked on, starring 22 talented writers and artists! You can download it for free at: https://princessmolly.gumroad.com/l/nursery-warp-2021 The illustration at the end of the story is by JuiceBox! Check him out on Patreon at: www.patreon.com/JuiceBoxArt -------------------------- Lost in Translation Written by Sophie & Pudding Translations by Lilyblax Illustration by JuiceBox Premise: Grace Gardener travels to France to visit her old crush, Violette. Resolute in her plans to tell Violette how she feels, Grace is constantly stymied by unexpected foreign customs. Will Grace be able to admit her feelings in time, or will she become Violette’s little girl instead? Disclaimers: diapers, wetting, messing, French -------------------------- "Here's you go, Miss Gardner." The flight attendant passed me a pillow with a bright smile. Every time she looked at me, she seemed particularly happy. Or maybe that's just what you pay for when you buy first class. I settled back in my chair and tucked the pillow under my head. Outside the little window, the sky was the darkest blue and the moon was the brightest white. I couldn't see the ocean beneath the clouds, but I knew it was there; there's not much else between New York and France. I'd never been outside the United States before, but I couldn't turn Violette down when she asked me to visit. Violette and I had been best friends all through high school, but she went back to Paris for college. After she graduated, she moved around a lot until she settled in a French city that I would embarrass myself trying to pronounce. In high school, I had a huge crush on Violette. She was unwavering in her optimism and unfettered in her confidence. She made me do things I would never do on my own, things I haven’t done since. But even as we said our goodbyes, I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I closed my eyes and let the hum of the airplane lull me to sleep. When I woke up, the sun was pouring in through the little window and an overhead voice was addressing the cabin: "Nous allons commencer notre descente dans quelques instants." I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the seat just as the pretty flight attendant appeared at my side. "Good morning, Grace," she said with that same bright smile. "We will be landing shortly, so let's get you all buckled up." Unexpectedly, the flight attendant bent down on one knee - so we were the same height - and pulled the seat belt over my lap. She clicked it shut and pulled the strap tight. Then, as she stood back up, she patted me on the top of my head. I stared incredulously as she walked down the aisle. "That was weird," I muttered to myself. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Before I was fully awake, the plane began to lilt forward and dip into the clouds. I pressed my forehead to the window to see the vast, grassy hills as they emerged from the fog. A small city grew ever closer, until I could see cars on the streets and people on the sidewalks. With a jolt, the plane landed on the runway and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn't even realize I'd been holding my breath. People all around me started to get up and gather their bags. I pulled at the seat belt around my waist, but I couldn't figure out how to unlatch it. Maybe it had a lock or something? The cute flight attendant passed by and I reached out to get her attention. "Excuse me. How do I unbuckle this?" "Be patient, Grace," she smiled. "I'll help you after the rest of the passengers are through." "But..." I tried to protest, but the flight attendant was addressing the crowded aisle in French. I sunk into my seat and pouted. I guess I didn't have a choice, did I? I watched as families and businessmen walked past me. Sometimes they would look at me and smile. Sometimes they would wave. A few women would speak to me, but I didn't understand what they were saying, so I would smile and nod. I could have sworn most of the passengers spoke English before we left. While I waited, I fished around my bag for my English to French phrasebook. I'd been studying it all summer, but I suddenly couldn’t remember a single one. Maybe I just needed a quick refresher. "Grace?" I looked up from my book at the flight attendant. Everyone else had left the plane. "What are you reading, hm?" "I... uh. I'm just trying to remember some phrases," I stammered. "Oh? Do you have a favorite one?" I started to notice her sunny disposition could be taken as condescension. "No," I muttered, looking at the cover of the book. I'd just reviewed ten different phrases, but I couldn’t remember any of them. "That's okay, honey," she said. "It's hard to learn new words." I sulked at the implication. Effortlessly, the flight attendant reached down, unbuckled my seat belt, and helped me to my feet. My legs felt a little wobbly after sitting for so long and she had to hold me up until I caught my balance. "Do you need a, um..." The flight attendant paused to think of the word, as though she didn't speak perfect English. "Push chair?" "No, I'm alright." I didn't want to be in a wheelchair the first time Violette saw me in five years. I was trying to make a good impression! "Okay then. Follow me." The attractive, condescending woman - was I just describing French women in general? - led me off the plane, holding me by the hand in a way that was altogether inappropriate. Was this a cultural thing? It had to be a cultural thing. But after we entered the airport and the flight attendant let go of my hand, I was overwhelmed with longing. My hand hadn’t been held like that in a while. “Vois-tu ta maman quelque part?" she asked. I stared blankly at the flight attendant. "Is someone meeting you?" she asked in English. "Oh, um. My friend Violette. She’s a little shorter than me, with blue-green hair." I looked around for signs of my friend, but the flight attendant took me by the hand once again. We were halfway down the terminal when I caught sight of Violette's teal tips. She always dyed the ends of her long, wavy hair. I thought she would get over it after high school, but she still sent me pictures each time she picked a new color. "Violette!" I shouted, waving my free arm. I managed to pull my hand out of the flight attendant's and run a dozen or so feet down until my arms were around Violette. She smelled like cinnamon and snowy mornings. I melted into her like chocolate fondue. "Gracie, je pensais que tu t'étais perdue!" she laughed. I didn't know what she said exactly, but it was wonderful to hear her voice. After the hug, I looked up at her with a touch of confusion. "You’re taller," I realized, at least a few inches taller than me. I checked her shoes, but she wasn’t wearing heels. "Ou alors tu as rétréci," Violette said. Then she turned to the flight attendant and started a conversation in French. I tried to wait my turn, but the longer it went on the sillier I felt. I couldn’t understand a single word… I tugged Violette’s sleeve to get her attention. "I'm so sorry, my darling," Violette apologized after looking at my expression. "I know those words are hard for you, and you must be oh-so-tired after your long trip.” She kissed the flight attendant on the cheek, which made me a little jealous. Then Violette took my hand in hers to led me to the baggage claim. "I slept on the flight," I explained as we walked. "And you don't have to..." Hold my hand? I'd longed for her to hold my hand for years, so why was I going to complain? I decided to stay quiet instead, a blush on my cheeks. "You're going to love it here," Violette said in a dreamy voice, pulling me along by the hand. I was having trouble keeping up with her and my legs still tingled from the flight. Every few sentences, Violette would slip into French and I would lose her train of thought. When we got to the baggage claim, there was only one bag left: a pink one with cartoons on the front. Violette went to grab it but I pulled her back. "My bag is green," I told her. "It's the same one we took on our camping trips." Violette tilted her head and said, "This is the one we took on our camping trips, you silly little sweetroll." "What? No, mine’s green…” Despite my protest, Violette grabbed the bag and read the tag out loud: "Petite Madame Gracie May Gardner." I narrowed my eyes and pushed in front of her to read the tag myself, but the words... they didn't make any sense. Maybe they were in French? That made sense, right? But why would my name be on a bag that wasn’t even mine? Unless... "Could the airline have switched my stuff to a different bag?" Maybe there was a problem with my suitcase and this was the only one available. But Violette didn’t seem to care about the luggage mystery. "Come now, Gracie." Violette pulled me along in one hand and pulled the rolling suitcase along in the other. I followed her halfway across the room before I was out of breath. I pulled on her hand until she stopped. "I need to sit down for a minute, Vi. My legs are killing me..." Thankfully, there was a bench only a few steps away. Airports were notorious for sitting space. "Je devrais peut-être trouver une poussette," Violette mused, looking around the open baggage lobby. I sat on the bench and pouted. "I can't understand you when you speak like that," I told her sharply, with as much assertiveness as I could muster. "And why are you calling me Gracie?" "Quel autre surnom pourrais-je te donner, princesse?" she said, still speaking French and glancing around the room. “English, please. I don't understand it when you—" "Ah!" Whatever Violette was looking for, she seemed to find it. She ran off with all the whimsy of a woodland sprite and I was left alone with the pink suitcase. I spoke quietly to myself: "I can't tell if this is going well or not..." I took a moment to look around the airport; I could hear the sounds of cars outside and the chatter of people, but none of them were saying words I could understand. Even the words written above the baggage claim or the signs at the help desk were gibberish to me. I felt like a stranger in this world, and when Violette came back pushing a giant stroller I was sure that was the case. "What the fuck is that?" I demanded. "C'est une poussette pour une princesse qui a fait un très long vol." I didn't understand her, but the question was rhetorical. It was a baby stroller, but it looked like it was sized for an adult. The metal was painted pink and the cushion was decorated with little cartoon princesses. Even the buckle and harness were bigger, easily enough to accommodate a fully grown woman. How did something like this even exist?! Then I realized why she had brought it over in the first place. "No," I said seriously. "No way." "Gracie." "No!" I shouted a little louder. "I’m not getting in a stroller!" A few people nearby turned their heads to look at me and I felt sick with embarrassment. "The car is parked very far away," Violette said. "At least twenty minutes walk." I hesitated. A twenty minute walk? I could barely make it to the baggage claim, and my legs weren't feeling any better. "Maintenant, sois une gentille petite fille—" Violette began, but I cut her off with one loud word: "English!" "You aren't going to learn any adult words if I keep speaking to you like a baby," Violette said harshly. A few more people turned to look at us and I sunk into the bench in shame. Violette had never spoken to me like that before… "I don't know what you're so upset about," Violette sighed, softening her tone. "Why do you think the airport has these? It's normal." I looked at the oversized stroller. Normal? I had never heard of adult strollers in France before... but why else would it be in the airport? I put my thumb to my mouth and bit nervously on my nail. "You're sure?" I muttered. "Tout à fait normal pour les filles de ton âge," Violette nodded. "Monte." With a bit of difficulty and a lot of reluctance, I climbed into the giant stroller. Violette buckled me in and I leaned back as far as I could to hide myself. This was so humiliating. Violette pushed the stroller through the baggage claim and outside to the parking lot. I kept waiting for someone to laugh or point at me, but even as dozens of people passed, no one gave me more than a cursory smile or a pleasant wave. Out of courtesy, I would sometimes wave back. Was this really normal? True to Violette's assessment, the car was parked a full twenty minutes walk away - a distance that now, in retrospect, I knew I couldn't have walked on my own. How ordinary was it to feel so weak after a long flight? What did people call it? Jetlag? Yeah, that had to be it. There was a brief flash as Violette took a surprise photo of me and I opened my mouth to protest. "Cela fera une belle couverture pour notre scrapbook!" she said. "Violette..." I actually sounded whiny. "This kind of thing may be normal in France, but you have to ask before you take my picture in a baby stroller." "Ne fais pas d'histoires. Je vais prendre plein de photos de toi et de tes nouveaux amis. Des amis français." I pouted. She wasn't going to stop this French nonsense, was she? But maybe she was right: maybe this was the best way I could learn the language. As Violette packed my suitcase into the trunk of her car, I fumbled with the buckle on the stroller. But no matter how I tugged or twisted or pulled, I couldn't seem to free myself. By the time Violette came over, I was red with irritation. "It's stuck! This stupid thing... I swear all the buckles in this stupid country—" Violette pushed my hands away and clicked open the buckle on her first try. I looked up at her with red cheeks as my frustration turned to embarrassment. How did she… but she lived here. Of course she had experience with this stuff. Right? "Monte, Gracie." Violette held open the door to the back of the car rather than the passenger seat, clicking her tongue impatiently. I rolled my eyes and climbed into the car. There was a car seat strapped in one of the seats. That was weird; Violette didn’t have any kids. I sat next to it and - before I could even find the seatbelt - Violette clicked her tongue again in disapproval. "In the car seat, silly," she explained in English. "I… what?" I stared dumbfounded. This had to be a joke… "It’s the law, Gracie," Violette said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. No way that was true. Americans had to sit in car seats? She was taking this too far! "Vi, this is stupid…" I muttered, looking at the huge car seat beside me. It was definitely big enough to fit an adult and I was starting to notice a trend. I didn’t remember reading anything about this online, and I’d done a lot of research on French customs. But all those people we walked past in the airport… there was no way they were acting. "We can’t leave until you get in," Violette said. "So unless you want to live in this parking lot…" I glared up at her, but her confidence was unshakable. I knew Violette; she would wait here until the end of time if she was trying to prove a point. At least the car seat was in the privacy of her car - it was much less embarrassing than the stroller. "I still think this is stupid," I muttered, lifting myself into the carseat with deep annoyance. "You're American," Violette giggled. "You think everything is stupid." Violette wasted no time reaching down into the car and strapping me in. Another buckle I didn't understand. Once again, I was trapped. Violette put the car in Drive and turned to look at me. A warm smile spread across her face. "Tu vas être si mignonne quand nous rentrerons à la maison. Une jolie couche, une jolie robe, des nattes. Mon Dieu." "Based on your tone," I muttered, trying to close my legs with the buckle pulled between them, "it sounds like you’re flirting with me." "Very good, Gracie!" I stared incredulously into her rear-view mirror, catching sight of her smile as she said those words. Violette was actually flirting with me? I bit my lip and sunk into the carseat. Maybe not everything was stupid. The car ride was predictably dull, but the view was gorgeous. Outside the windows, the city buildings were never more than three stories tall and the rolling hills made a beautiful backdrop. All the streets were only two-lanes, and we even drove on the correct side of the road. I kicked my feet idly, nowhere near touching the floor, and let my imagination take me to Violette's house. Did she have a room for me? Or was I staying in her room? I never asked. Then a strange feeling pulled me back to reality. Out of nowhere, I really had to pee! I hadn't gone even once on the plane; I hated public bathrooms more than I hated anything! But it never mattered - I had an iron bladder - until that very moment. "Hey, um. How much longer until we're there?" I wiggled awkwardly in my carseat, shifting side to side. "A little while yet, Gracie sweetie." That was not the answer I was hoping for. "Like... five minutes?" I was kicking my legs a little faster now, and I'd have crossed them if I could. "Tu vas finir par faire pipi dans ma voiture, n'est-ce pas ? J'aurais dû te changer à l'aéroport." "Hey! I don't know what you're saying but you sound annoyed." "Let's play the alphabet game, Gracie, would you like that?" "Umm..." I really had to pee, but maybe the distraction would help. "I guess..." It was a lot harder to play the alphabet game when you can't read any of the words! All the street signs and storefronts were in French, and I didn't know how to pronounce any of it. Even if I saw the right letter, I didn't know how to say the word. And there weren't any billboards like there were in the States. I only made it to letter D before I felt a heat pool between my legs, soaking into the denim of my jeans and pooling under my butt. At first I didn't understand what was happening, and then I realized I didn't have to pee anymore. Before I could figure out what to do, tears filled my eyes and my lip started to tremble. I couldn't let Violette see me like this! If she did, she'd never like me! "Oh tu as eu un petit accident?" Violette cooed from the driver's seat. "N-no, I'm fine!" I answered, not understanding the question. "I'm just... just tired! Um..." I fumbled for the buckle as tears spilled down my cheeks. I had to get out of this thing before we got to her house. I kept wiping the water from my cheeks but it wasn't doing me any good. I couldn't hide my tears no more than I could hide the accident I had. Within minutes, we were pulling in a small stone driveway in front of a cute two-story condo. Violette got out of the car and opened my door. "No, go away!" I shouted, shoving at her hands, but small slaps on the tops of them shut me up. She reached forward, unbuckled my seatbelt, and lifted me up out of the seat. I cried as she sat me on my feet and took a look at my jeans. "Pauvre chou, allez, on va rentrer à l'intérieur et te changer." I turned to face away from her so she couldn’t see, but the back was even worse than the front. My butt was completely soaked and I couldn’t look up from the gravel driveway. "Je vais te retirer de ces guenilles et te donner des vêtements plus appropriés." "Please stop talking in French. Please, I—" My words were interrupted when Violette pushed my thumb between my lips. In the span of two heartbeats, my anxiety began to trickle away. I wanted to pull my thumb out of my mouth, but it was the first time since I'd wet myself that I felt like I had some level of control. Everything around me was so new and scary: the country, the customs, and then my accident. Even Violette was acting strange. But with my thumb in my mouth, it felt slower. Manageable. Was this why babies suck their thumbs? I couldn't even remember the last time... Violette took my hand and led me up the stoop and in the front door. I felt like a two year old following her mommy around: soaked pants on display for the whole neighborhood. But somehow, with my hand in hers, I felt safe too. When we were both inside, Violette closed the door behind us and I took three steps into her foyer. The house wasn’t particularly big, but the open living room and kitchen made it seem gigantic. I mustered every ounce of willpower to pull my thumb from my lips and turned to look at my best friend. "I'm so sorry," I told her. "So sorry about your car, and... and I didn't mean to... I promise it will never happen again. I promise..." "Ne t'inquiète pas, je ferai en sorte que cela ne se reproduise plus," Violette said with a warm smile. She walked up the stairs with my hand in hers and I followed a step behind. With my free hand, I kept rubbing my eyes. I felt so foolish. The whole day had been a terrible disaster. How was I ever supposed to ask Violette out now? I would be lucky if she was still my friend after all this... At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing with a toy chest in the corner and a soft looking rug in the center of the room. In the corner, there was a rocking chair. Then there were two doors. As I was led past the first one, I peered in to see a bathroom. So then... Violette and I were sharing a room? But when she opened the door, I could never have expected what I saw. It was like any adult's room: a dresser, a queen-sized bed, a full-length mirror, and a closet. But on the far wall, there was an alcove maybe a quarter the size of the room itself. It was set into the wall, trimmed with white moulding, and a small butterfly nameplate above it - near the ceiling - reading "Gracie". The alcove itself was painted pink - a stark contrast to the neutrality of the room itself - and decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. Against the back wall was a huge white, wooden crib. On the other wall, there was a table with a thin mat on top of it, like a changing table. And lastly, a set of ten square shelves were stocked with stacks and stacks of diapers. I stared dumbfounded at the dichotomy of Violette's room - of our room - and shook my head in disbelief. This was... no way. "What the hell is this?!" I shouted, anger and confusion filling the space where my embarrassment was only a moment ago. How could she do this?! "This is your home, Gracie,” Violette said simply. If she was intimidated by my display of ferocity, she certainly didn’t show it. She nudged me inside the room and closed the door behind us with a little click. "I mean it, Vi! What... what is... what the hell? You think I don't see how big those things are? You think 'oh Grace will just think they're for some kid' - I'm not even staying here! I'm going home on... on... um..." Why couldn't I remember...? "Oh mon Dieu, quelle crise de colère!" "I can tell when you're being condescending!" "Le français sonne comme ça," Violette laughed, but I wasn't amused. I shoved past her and twisted the door handle. It didn't open. Then, faster than I could blink, Violette spun me around and pinned my back to the door. She stepped closer to me and cradled my cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across my face ever so softly. She leaned in so our lips were only a few inches apart and I felt my heart race in my chest. Then she tilted her head and kissed me once on the forehead. The warmth spread through that spot on my skin like the wetness through my jeans, filling me up with emotions. But rather than fear and shame, I felt... safe. "I'm so happy you're here, Gracie," Violette whispered, tracing her free hand down my side and to the hip of my wet pants. I had to remind myself to breathe. "Moving to France was the hardest thing I've ever done... I've worked for years to make a life for you here. For us. I never wanted to leave my little girl behind..." I had no idea what she was talking about. I was never her little girl before! Right...? But the more I thought about it, the less sure I was. Her optimism was unwavering; she always told me things would be okay, no matter how scary they seemed. Her confidence was unfettered; she always told me I was safe with her, no matter how unlikely that was. She made me do things I would never do on my own - she made me hang out with the other kids, talk about my feelings, and accept everything that I am - things I hadn't done since. But even as we said our goodbyes - a forehead kiss at the airport and a final crinkle of her hand on my hip - I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. "Do you really wanna be a big girl, Gracie?" she asked, a nervous smile on her beautiful lips. But somewhere in me, I knew she deserved an adult. That's what I'd been trying to be for so long. So I nodded my head. "I am a big girl," I said assertively, or as assertively as any girl in pee-soaked jeans could manage. "Then you'll say it with big girl words," Violette said, then took a step back. “Veux-tu que je te remette des couches pour le restant de ta vie? Veux-tu être ma petite fille? Je sais que tu l'es déjà." I stared dumbfounded at the girl of my dreams. She'd asked me a question, and it was clear she wanted an answer. But I had no idea what she was asking. I knew, without a doubt, if I told her to try to speak English, that I would always be a baby-babbling little girl to Violette. But if I answered wrong... I couldn't come back from that, could I? I tried to read Violette's face. She stood with a smile and excited eyes... eager? Curious? Or did she know that even if I answered correctly, I could never know for sure. She could pretend she asked a different question and I would never know the difference. In truth, I wasn't answering Violette's question. I was letting her decide my future. My choice didn't matter: only hers did. In that way, I really was just her little girl. "Yes," I said, with the utmost confidence, not knowing to what I was agreeing. "Tu es sûr?" she asked. I didn't know what it meant, but I could read the intent. She was asking for confirmation. "Yes," I said again. "Okay," Violette said, speaking my baby-talk language for the last time. I felt like I had crossed a threshold, like I was taking a step I couldn’t come back from, and the feeling was literal when Violette led me by the hand into the nursery nook. My cheeks were red as I looked at the changing table, at the crib, at the diapers. "On va te changer, ma petite fontaine. Tu dois être tellement mal à l'aise dans ce pantalon mouillé." Her voice and cadence were so melodic as she unbuckled my jeans and peeled them down my legs. Next went my panties; she prompted me to step out of them as they reached my ankles. I'd daydreamed about Violette undressing me countless times, but never like this. I could never have imagined it would be like this… naked from the waist down, soaked in my own pee, and standing adjacent to an adult-sized changing table, in an adult-sized nursery nook, filled with adult-sized diapers and an adult-sized crib. Next to Violette, I felt the very opposite of adult-sized. Violette reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. Instinctively, my arms raised and I was standing in just my bra. She took a step closer and leaned in; my heart raced as our lips closed in on each other, but she turned her head and our cheeks touched. Her arms wrapped around me and unsnapped my bra, pulling the straps down off my arms and leaving me as naked as the day I was born. I looked up in her eyes with tears in mine, overwhelmed with shame and fear. But her smile seemed to take it all away. "Violette..." I muttered, a plea for her to stop all this. I couldn't be a baby. I wasn't a baby! "Maman," she corrected, a stern look in her eye. A felt a rush of heat in my face and electricity up my spine. "Maman," I repeated... the first and only French word I knew. The only one that mattered. "Gentille fille," Violette smiled, and though I didn’t know what she said in words, the pride of her sentiment made me warm inside. She pushed me back ever so slightly until my bare butt hit the changing table. I looked up at her, biting my lip, and she gave me a supportive nod. "Lève." I didn't need a translation for that one. I slid back on to the changing table, like it was a doctor's table, but Violette wasn't having any of it. She spun me by the ankles and pushed me gently onto my back. I looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars - unbearably dim in the afternoon sunlight - and knew that my cheeks were shining much brighter. I felt Violette's hand on my thigh, trailing her fingers up to my knee, and pulling my legs apart. I had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this. I felt something cool and wet against my thigh. It made me jump, but Violette hushed me. "Du calme, ma petite princesse. Maman est juste en train de te nettoyer." I shivered in place as I figured out she was wiping me clean with a baby wipe from the changing table. She moved slowly and deliberately, rubbing the insides of my thighs and then between my legs. She was cleaning me up because I pissed my pants like a... like a… As Violette stepped across the nook to the cube shelves and I heard the crinkling of plastic. She turned the simple act of a diaper change into something sacred, like it was a ceremony. In a way, it was. She unfolded the diaper in front of me, standing at the side of the changing table. In my peripherals, I could see the plastic unfurl, crinkling sounds filling the air. I watched the wings as she pulled them apart, huge and wide like the arms of a hug. And the print on the front was so infantile, with baby blocks and teddy bears. How had she gotten them in my size? How had she gotten this table, or that crib, or that stroller at the airport? Why was everyone - from the flight attendant to the people in the parking lot - so comfortable with seeing me as an oversized baby? The only reason I could think of was the obvious: this was normal. Violette lifted my legs by the ankles. She raised them high in the air so my butt was off the table, and then - when it came back down - it rested on the soft padding of the diaper. The scent of baby powder filled the air and I sunk deeper into the changing table. I felt so fresh. Clean. Pure. Any parent could tape on a diaper in two seconds flat. Practice makes perfect, right? But the way Violette did it was perfect in a totally different way. She took her time, adjusting every little part of the plastic to be symmetrical. She pulled the thick center between my legs and pressed it to my hips. She folded and creased the wings so that each tape was pulled tight and snug across my body. She drew lines with her fingers around the legbands, checking for anywhere I might leak. And when she was satisfied, she patted the front two times, sending a shiver up my spine. By the time Violette pulled me up to sit on the table, my head was swirling with things I'd never felt before. Important. Adorable. Protected. Loved. Why would I ever want to be an adult, when I could be her little girl? If I had an answer at one point, I certainly didn't anymore. "Tu as été une si gentille petite fille. Maman est si fière de toi. Allons choisir une de tes plus belles robes." I was oblivious to her words, but the tone of her praise melted me from the inside out. She picked up the suitcase she had brought up with us and laid it down on the changing table. As I moved, even a little bit, I crinkled; I harmonized with the zipper of the case opening. When she pulled out the pretty sundress that was too short to cover my diaper, I anxiously put my thumb to my lips. "That's not mine, Maman..." "C'est dans ta valise, Gracie. Cela signifie que c'est la tienne. N'est-ce pas?" I nodded, agreeing to something I didn’t understand, although I knew what would happen next. She would put me in that dress and it would be mine. Sure enough, after a word of praise, Violette pulled the dress over my head and lifted me onto my feet. She took me across the room to see myself in her full-length mirror. As she tied my hair into pigtails, I stared at the hem of my pink sundress and the diaper it failed to conceal. There was no going back now... Once my hair was done, Maman clipped a ribbon to my dress. She took the pacifier hanging off the end of it and popped it in my mouth. The girl in the mirror was nothing but a baby, through and through. So when I felt my tummy gurgle, I knew the was no point in asking. But what little adulthood I had left demanded I ask anyway. "Maman," I muttered, turning to face her. I spoke with a lisp around my pacifier. "I gotta go potty…" "C'est à ça que servent tes couches, mon ange. Nous le savons toutes les deux." I looked up at Maman with resignation. I didn’t know what she said, but it didn’t matter; I knew my fate. Just in case I forgot, my tummy gurgled again to remind me. It was unavoidable, inescapable, and approaching inevitable. Long ago, maybe a lifetime ago, I knew when I needed to use the potty and I could make it there in time. Now, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to. I did my due diligence; I did what my adulthood demanded of me. I asked, even though Maman and I both knew it was all for show. I had to ask, because she had to say no. It was performative. Distantly, somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the echoes of shame and humiliation begging me to defy Maman. As those pleas fell on deaf ears, I watched the girl in the mirror. I saw a blush on her cheeks and the way her teary eyes shined with longing, a longing for things to be easy. She wasn’t happy with what she was about to do, but she was happy for the praise that would surely follow in words she couldn’t possibly understand. Maman wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my tummy through my dress, and whispered softly in my ear: "Je t'aime, Gracie." Though my dumb baby brain couldn't translate her words, my dumb baby heart could feel them more clearly than anything I'd ever known. I stared at Maman in the mirror and bit my pacifier. I didn’t want to hold it, even if I could. So with my Maman’s arms around me, I bent forward just a bit and began to push. At first, nothing happened; I thought maybe I wasn’t a baby after all. Then, with a second push, I felt the seat of my diaper expand and fill. It was so easy. Nothing in my life had ever been as easy as messing my diaper, and that's how I knew I was never meant to be an adult. [END]

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding -------------------------- Bnuuy Brainwash By Pudding *Author’s Note: I wrote this as a birthday gift for my favorite dumb bnuuy, Claire, and she was gracious enough to share with you all. Premise: Claire is a new initiate in the Dependent program, where she is regressed to a full-time baby. What awaits Claire in her new life? Disclaimers: brainwashing, hypnosis, diapers, wetting, messing -------------------------- “You can’t do this to me!” They always said that, without fail, without exception, as though that very simple and defiant proclamation might have changed their fate. What did they expect would happen when they said that? Did they fancy that the fate chosen for them would suddenly and miraculously be reversed? That the very extensive program designed purely and strictly for this purpose would just do an about-face and decide that they indeed couldn’t do this? Regardless of motivation, it was all academic at this point anyway; once a person was nominated to undergo this conversion, there was no turning back, or reversing the process, or presence of an off-switch or anything of the sort. And beyond a doubt, the program worked — it had worked on thousands of other people before this little bundle of sass and spunk, and it would work on thousands and thousands more after her too. She was certainly attractive, with brown eyes that shone with intelligence and thought, an adorable nose and a smile that was best described as too pretty for a girl as clever as she was. Although presently, smiling seemed to be the last thing on her mind. Rather, she wore a scowl with all the efficacy of a child; much more of a pout than anything intimidating. It wasn’t hard to see why someone might want her transformed into a Dependent. What was her name? Claire? That was a pretty name, and suitably juvenile too. A glance at the chart revealed that her wife had nominated her for the program, citing in her application that Claire was often lost in daydreams and fantasy worlds, and couldn’t be trusted with adult tasks. Which was in no way to say she wasn’t capable, just that when given the choice she’d always rather lose herself in passions than devote herself to something meaningful. Just like any child, really. “Oh, you know, they always say that Claire.” “But!” she scrunched up her nose and shook her head, “maybe other people deserved it, but not me, I’m not supposed to be here. My wife-” “Is the one who sent you here, yes, that’s very good!” There was a brief and delightful silence from the girl as her pretty brown eyes fell under the weight of her frowning, and she tried to figure out if that was true or not. This, too, was all too common. She’d probably see it as a betrayal, rather than the act of love that it had been. “She wouldn’t, she loves me, and… and and and…she wouldn’t do this to me.” Bingo! “And it’s because she loves you that you’re here, Claire. My name is Miss Pudding, although you don’t really need to remember that for very long - you won’t be in any state to call an adult by name, soon enough.” “Pudding!” “That’s right, sweetheart! That’s my name,” the woman clapped her hands in quiet and singular applause, and continued, “and you’re Claire, although I’m to understand that your Momma-to-be has something more appropriate in mind as a pet name for you.” This was about the time Pudding expected Claire to realize the gravity of her situation, and the brown-eyed-beauty certainly didn’t disappoint. She looked around slowly at first; as the fire in her heart faded and the metaphorical smoke was given a chance to clear. She was in a room with lilac walls and carpet, lacking any other defining features apart from the bed she was strapped firmly down to by the wrists and ankles. “Please, please please, you gotta let me go…I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, and I’ll um…” Tears were starting to pool at the edges of those pretty pretty eyes, and she really did look beautiful, especially in such a state. “You’re trying too hard, Claire; there’s no escape and by the time we’re done with you, escape won’t even be something you want. So just relax and try to enjoy yourself.” There was a click sound as the lights went down, and as though the lights had been her own eyes, Claire faded quickly into sleep. * * * When she woke up, Claire wasn’t in the lilac room anymore, and she wasn’t in the bed, and she wasn’t in the dark. Around her she could hear the busy chittering of what sounded like children, although she couldn’t focus on them right now; she was so awestruck and stunned by what she was wearing: a gingham dress in lilac that flowed over her body the way that snow painted a layer over the world in winter. Wearing a pretty dress was right. Something thick between her legs that she immediately lost focus on if she tried to think about it. That was right, too. And something in her mouth that a part of her brain told her was a pacifier and a louder voice inside of her told her was okay. Promptly, defiantly, she ignored that voice, and spat the thing out from between her lips. The pacifier fell only far enough for the momentum to be arrested by the clip attached to her dress. She could feel panic trying to rise in her chest, both fueled and suppressed by the final realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her eyes looked around, panned the horizon from her place sitting on the floor, and she saw now what she’d thought were children. Her brain tried to tally them up, although any counting past four seemed to get jumbled, and so she concluded there were simply ‘lots’. Lots of adults, dressed in pretty outfits. Dresses and shortalls, onesies and skirtalls, footed sleepers and cute polka-dotted ensembles. The largeness of the room made Claire feel very small by comparison. Claire winced and rubbed her head; feeling braided plaits that danced and pulled under their own weight of hair and ribbons. Something didn’t feel right; her head didn’t feel right, her thoughts didn’t feel right. None of this felt right, or sensical, or familiar. A voice that reached out to her did feel familiar, though. A voice she knew, a voice she trusted. “Hello again, darling girl.” Looking up at the woman who stood above her, there were a lot of floating thoughts in her head. Safety. Happiness. Trust. Miss Pudding. And another name that came to the forefront the way a message might in a magic 8 ball: Nana. “Nana…?” Claire felt uncomfortable with that word; she felt conflicted. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and like it was the first time she’d ever said it. Moreover, her voice felt strange… or her choice of words, maybe. Like most of the words she reached for flittered out of her reach. “What happened… what… what did you do to me, Nana?” The standing woman knelt and put her hand on Claire’s cheek with a warm smile – the kind of smile that made Claire flush with warmth for reasons she couldn’t understand — and spoke to her in words that felt like honey; sweet and thick and sticky. “Nana didn’t do anything you didn’t want, sweetie.” “She… she didn’t…?” Claire felt so confused. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. She remembered the Lilac Room, and she she remembered the darkness, and she remembered… swimming? No. She remembered sinking. And then floating. She remembered feeling scared, and then safe, and then… her memory felt foggy. Or maybe it felt like it was receding the way that waves did after they crashed upon the shore. Nana had such a warm smile and such pretty eyes. How had Claire never noticed that before? How had she never noticed those pretty blue eyes? She wanted to look away and found herself patently unable. A voice in her head told her that it was okay to float in those waters, and that Nana loved her. Of course Nana loved her. Obviously. “What… what is this, Nana?” She tugged at her dress, at the pretty purple gingham material, and managed to look away just to look down at it. There was an oddness between her legs she was still aware of; a thickness, a foreign strangeness. And just as soon as she focused on it, her attention fluttered away like a butterfly all over again. “It’s your dress, Claire. A pretty pretty dress for a pretty pretty girl.” “For a pretty pretty girl…” Claire mused quietly, trying to see if the words fit as well as the dress did. “That’s right, darling! You’re Nana’s Pretty Girl! How’s your drawing coming?” “Drawing…?” Claire felt ever more confused, but her eyes scanned the floor where she was sitting for any sort of answer and found a sheet of paper with a crude drawing of a three stick figures in dresses, holding hands. “Oh!” Suddenly, Claire was awash with enthusiasm and excitement as she started to point fervently at the paper. “This is… um… this is um…” And just as quick as the excitement came, it gave way to foggy confusion. Quicker still, a three-tone chime sounded in the room and every single person paid attention. Claire couldn’t be sure what it meant, but as sure as she knew Nana loved her, she knew that the tone was important! “It’s time for your favorite game, darling, you should hurry!” Nana encouraged her, and Claire nodded. She knew which place she liked the most. The one with the lilac game controller, the one next to the fingerpaints and the fairy wings. Quick as she could, she crawled over to the small, curved screen by the nearby wall and sat herself down in front of the display, taking the oversized controller in her hands. An image of a bunny came to life, and Claire heard herself giggling happily. Colors flicked up on the screen, and she pushed the buttons, and her mind floated away into a happy bliss of lights and colors and instructions. * * * “I dun’ feel good, Nana…” There weren’t any sounds around her anymore, just the walls of the Lilac Room. Claire sat upon the bed, and Nana sat next to her. How had she gotten here? How long had it been? Her tummy twisted in anxiousness, and she squeezed her thighs tight around what she knew for a fact was her diaper. That made sense. “You need to go for another swim, darling, that’s all. Are you ready?” “A swim…?” “Into The Blue.” Claire might not have been feeling good, but those words made the most sense to her. She loved The Blue, almost as much as she loved her Nana and her Momma. The idea of getting to visit made her giggle happily, and it took all her energy to steel herself and focus and calm, before obediently staring into Nana’s eyes. * * * “I’m a baby.” “I’m a little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “I can’t take care of myself.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a good little baby.” “I love my dresses.” “I love my diapers.” “I’m helpless.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a dumb and happy little baby.” “I love being a baby.” “I love being dependent.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a diaper-dependent, incontinent, devoted little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “They do the thinking, Claire does the stinking.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a beautiful, brilliant baby bunny.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m helpless, obedient, pretty, and submissive.” “Thoughts for for grown-ups, diapers are for Bunny.” “Bunny obeys.” “Bunny listens.” “Bunny is a baby.” “Bunny is better this way.” * * * “I’ma bunny…baby…baby bnuuy…” Claire wasn’t sure why she said those words, but her thoughts swirled with words just like those, and each one of them felt as true and genuine and real as her looking at the grass and saying it was green. And Bunny was so good at colors! That’s why she wore a purple dress in her drawing, and Nana wore yellow, and Momma wore teal. Bunny was in the middle, holding hands, and that was the best bestest place for her! “Nananananana!” Claire giggled as she felt Nana lean down next to her and slip fingers under her dress to check her diapers. Bunny wore diapers. Claire was Bunny and she loved her diapers because of course she did! There was a heavenly and familiar musical chime, and she didn’t even need to be told – she had to get a best high score with the pretty rabbit! She hadda get to 72! Claire crawled across the foam tiled floor and plopped down between two other babies that were just like her, and she took the purple controller awkwardly in her hands. “Bunn--nnyyyy!” She giggled at the heterochromatic rabbit and pressed all her buttons just the way she was told. Bunny loved to be obedient! Helpless and Obedient and Pretty and Submissive. Bunny HOPS! * * * “Oh my goodness, darling, someone’s a stinky little princess, isn’t she?” “I can’ helps it Nana… I was sleepsin an’ I’ma baby…” “That’s right, darling! Messing in your sleep during nap time is very normal for a girl your age.” Distantly, a part of her brain told Bunny that she didn’t used to do that. That she didn’t used to play with the others until she got tired, and then go to sleep on the floor in the playroom, and then poop her diapers. But that didn’t make any sense at all, and that was why Bunny didn’t do the thinking. Bunny was too pretty for thoughts, after all. Helplessly, she let Nana pick her up and put her against her hip. Had Nana always been so big? It didn’t matter. All grown-ups were much bigger than Bunny was, and that was because and also proved the fact that, she was a baby. Bunny and Baby both started with a B, and she sure didn’t know many more letters than that, so it had to be true. Obediently - as though this routine had happened a thousand times - she cuddled into Nana like a koala as she was carried over to the changing room. Prettily, she smiled. Her giggle was so vacant, and her eyes were glossy and happy and empty. Bunny sucked her fingers all the way there, until Nana put her binkie back between her lips. Submissively, she laid down on the padded changing table and kicked her feet happily. “You’ll be ready to go home soon, and see your Momma. Won’t that be wonderful?” “Yuh yuh yuh! I wanna see my Momma ‘cause she’s a good an’ I love her an’ an’ an’!” “And she’ll be so proud of how your conversion is progressing, darling.” “Yuh yuh yuh Momma gonna love my this.” While babbling back and forth with her Nana, Claire knew a few things. She knew that this adult woman was changing her very mushy diaper that she had no recollection of using, and that there were countless others who could just look over and see. She knew that she’d gotten so much smaller since being here, and she knew that she needed her diapers beyond doubt. She knew that she heard Nana’s voice in her head, and her words were always the right thing to do. She knew that she was a baby girl. She knew that she loved her Momma. She knew how much she loved to play her bunny game on the screen, and how much she loved her binkie, and how much she loved her drawings. She knew how much happier she was now. And she knew how much many more happy it made her to be told what to do. Burning deep inside of her, Bunny knew she was created to please and fulfill and make people happy. “All changed!” Nana smiled, patting the front of Bunny’s diaper with a sense of accomplishment. Already, Bunny couldn’t wait to get down off the changing table and get back to playing. “Nanananana I wan’ play an’ I wan’ draw an’ I wan’ make more drawings for Momma!” “Well you’d better hurry, Bunny, you might see your Momma sooner than you think.” With her brown eyes filled with determination, Bunny nodded her head earnestly. “Bnuuy will draw lots of the pictures an’ make lots of good an’ give Momma LOTS of smiles!” True to her Nana’s prediction, it wouldn’t be too much longer before Bunny’s Momma came to get her, and ordinarily that moment of parting would have been a bittersweet one indeed. Of all the caregivers at the conversion nursery, Nana was most known for her imprinting on her charges and sending them back out into the world was always an event of mixed feelings. That made it especially wonderful that Claire was to be a part of a new program where she’d have a state-appointed caregiver relocated to live just across the street from her and to assist her Momma in her continuing development. And, of course, it only made sense for her appointed caregiver to be her Nana who she already loved very, very much. So as Bnuuy drew another picture of herself with her Momma to one side and her Nana to the other, as she hummed and wriggled her diapered bottom as she wet herself without a care in the world, she’d occasionally mutter a few words to herself and giggle. “’…an’ they liveded happy evers afters…” [End.]

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding -------------------------- A Mommy’s Love By Sophie *Author’s Note: This story is just some cute hypno diaper smut about a Mommy who takes some extra precautions to make sure her baby stays in diapers. Disclaimers: diapers, hypnosis, wetting, messing, oral sex -------------------------- I sat with my feet over Mommy’s lap, stealing glances at her out of the corner of my eye. We had been watching TV for the better part of the hour, and I was starting to think things might actually be settling down. Just in time, too. Ever since she woke me up with a kiss on the forehead and a finger in the leg-band of my diaper, she had been in full-on Mommy mode. It was a fun game we liked to play; I was her baby and she would take care of me. Sometimes it was cute and innocent, and other times… well… Today, Mommy wasn’t playing around. She changed me into one of the most infantile diapers I had - with a booster for the extra thickness - and a dress with fluffy sleeves and a round collar. I tried telling her I could be a grown up, but her casual remark on the state of my diaper that morning put the argument to rest. My bedwetting was a new development. Mommy spoon-fed me breakfast and gave me a baby bottle of chocolate milk. I didn’t even complain because she never gave me chocolate milk in the mornings. Then she pushed my paci in my mouth and sat me in front of the morning cartoons while she did the dishes. After an episode or two, Mommy came back with a plan for the day: “I wanna hypnotize you.” We had done it before, and I loved playing along. It was always a lot of fun, and the thought of her controlling me was… well, I wasn’t about to say no. Unfortunately, by the end of it, I didn’t remember any particular triggers. She was just talking a lot about how much I love her, or about how much I wanted to make her happy. Then it was over. As the day went on, her teasing escalated. She took me out to lunch in my frilly party dress, where she made me say ‘pretty please’ to the waitress when ordering my food. Then we went to the grocery store, where she checked my diaper in an empty aisle with a firm press to the front of my dress. When we got back to the car, she laid me down in the back seat and changed me into a dry diaper. I knew her car windows were tinted, but it didn’t make me any less embarrassed. When we got home, everything started to settle down. We talked about ordering pizza for dinner and she put a grown up show on the TV. Every so often her hand would slide up my thigh to the front of my diaper, but the mood had changed. We were equals, or close to it. I started up a few conversations to test the waters. Every so often she would lightly tease me, like how cute I am or how well behaved I had been today, but that was normal. Even when she was just my girlfriend, she was always a little bit my mommy. Just a little bit. Another ache rumbled through my tummy and I stole another glance at Mommy. It was now or never. I took my feet off her lap and got up on my feet, crinkling with every small movement. I raised my hands above my head to stretch, flashing the seat of my diaper just a bit. She didn’t react. “I’ll be right back,” I muttered, stepping away from the sofa. “Where ya goin’?” Mommy asked without looking away from the TV. I froze in place and bit my lip. Moment of truth… “I, um… I’m gonna use the bathroom…” The second it took her to reply felt like an hour. But unexpectedly, Mommy said: “Okay. You go be an adult.” For a moment, I stood dumbfounded. I thought for sure I would have to argue with her. I would have to beg or offer something embarrassing in return. Curtsies were a recent go-to of hers, or asking in baby talk. I must have been standing there a while, because then she said: “What are you waiting for? You’re an adult, aren’t you?” “I… um…” I should have turned on my heel and hurried off to the bathroom, but I was thinking about something else. About her. About how kind she was for letting me use the bathroom at all! She didn’t have to do that. I just wished I could show her how much I appreciated her… “Go on,” she encouraged, waving her hand to shoo me away. I almost left, but then she added: “You know how to use the potty, right? All adults do.” A thought came into my mind. I knew how I could make her feel appreciated. I knew how to please her. So I took an unsteady step back toward the couch and slid down to my knees, looking up at her with bright, loving eyes. She tilted her head curiously. “Something wrong?” she asked. “Is being an adult too hard?” A tight cramp in my stomach was replaced shortly thereafter with butterflies. I reached forward with both my hands until they were hooked in the waistband of Mommy’s leggings. She lifted her butt almost instinctively, like I did when she changed my diapers, and slid her pants and panties down to her knees. Then her ankles. Adult. That word echoed in my mind. Mommy spread her knees apart and I leaned in to kiss between her thighs. Instantly, I could hear her breathing change. I could feel her hips moving ever so slightly against my face. Time slipped away from me as my tongue slipped in and out of her. Then another queasy ache filled my belly and I let out a muffled whimper. I really needed to use the potty, and Mommy seemed to read my mind. “Don’t you still have to go to the bathroom?” she asked. I nodded and pulled away, sitting upright on my heels. I looked up at Mommy with a glossy expression. I was just about to stand up when she added: “Like an adult?” I couldn’t leave her like that. I just couldn’t! I loved her so much, and I wanted her to know it. I wanted her to know how sexy she was, how important she was to me, and how much I appreciated her. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to bring her as much pleasure as she brought me. “Gosh…” Mommy moaned, my tongue between her legs. “If you can’t prioritize getting to the potty… then maybe you aren’t an adult.” I whimpered. I was an adult! I could be! But… but… “An adult would get up and use the potty,” Mommy added, quivering as she spoke. She was breathing heavily and I felt another cramp twist my stomach into knots. An adult would get up and use the potty… “Last chance,” she warned, playing with my hair as I continued to flitter my tongue between her thighs. “If you want to be an adult, go use the bathroom.” But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Being an adult, using the potty, none of that was as important as pleasing my Mommy. I wanted her to be rewarded for everything she did for me. I wanted to make her so happy. “Then you made your choice,” Mommy moaned, tugging my hair and pushing me deeper between her legs. “You aren’t an adult anymore. You’re my obedient little baby, and grown-up things are off limits to you now. No more potty. No more decisions. Your only purpose is to make Mommy happy. And if you do a very good job, Mommy will train you to love your diapers as much as you love your Mommy.” I was crouched on my hands and knees, squatting back so that my diapered butt was only barely touching the heels of my feet. Another ache churned in my stomach, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about Mommy’s moans and gasps. I was so focused on making her happy that I didn’t notice until it was too late. As Mommy’s hips spasmed and waves of pleasure flooded through her body, I began to fill the seat of my diaper. She continued to writhe and moan as I continued to mess myself, until we were both comfortable and exhausted. “Such a good baby,” Mommy whispered lazily, reaching down and pulling me up into her arms. I curled up on top of her, against her breasts, and she passively patted the seat of my diaper. Each squish made me shiver with embarrassment, but I knew it was something I would have to get used to. After all, I would never be able to use the potty again. Then Mommy started a very familiar sentence: “Let’s…” ‘Get you changed’ were the words that always followed that tone. But my hopes were dashed when she finished her thought: “Let’s get you started on that training. We have a long way to go if you’re going to love your diapers as much as you love me.” I blushed, but she was right. I would need a lot of training to love anything as much as I loved her. [End]

All these stories are true.

Thank you everyone ❤️

Thank you everyone!! ❤️ I love this, tbh. I think a lot of sexy scenes are kinda unrealistic, in a literal sense. But telling a 'story about what's going to happen' is more feasible and imaginative. But that's just a personal preference.

Added Lanny & Hayden by Sophie & Pudding: Added The Middle by Sophie:

Funnily enough, this story isn't about a Middle! Sophie-only story, so no colors this time. And no, there's not going to be more chapters. It's just a fun little one-off what-if story for my friend Lyra. --------------------------------- Premise: Lyra takes extra precautions for a long flight home with no bathroom breaks. Will Lyra regret her decision when she is seated between two beautiful women? Disclaimers: diapers, public, teasing, wetting --------------------------------- The Middle By Sophie Starring: @Lyra Silver Lyra looked down at her arm rests, one on each side. They weren’t big enough for two arms, and her flight was booked solid. She would have to share. The window seat gets the window, Lyra rationalized, so surely I can have the arm rest. And the aisle seat can get up to use the bathroom whenever they want without needing to ask. That entitles me to their arm rest as well. In fact, Lyra was so nervous about asking a stranger to move out of the way that she had taken precautions. The flight from Boston to Los Angeles was six hours long, and her bladder was proportionate to the rest of her; that is to say, rather small. She had never worn a diaper outside of the comfort of her own bedroom, but it seemed the practical choice. Practicality was about the only thing that could get past her social anxiety. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra was still regretting not spending the extra eighteen dollars for an aisle seat. Inevitably, the seats beside Lyra were taken in tandem. A pair of beautiful women stood in the aisle and checked their tickets against the tag above the row. One of them had shoulder-length brown hair and wore tight fitted pants with a dressy shirt. The other had long blonde hair and was wearing a sundress that was probably intended for shorter people. They were tall, at least six inches taller than Lyra, and leaned in close to whisper to each other. Lyra caught a glance at their wedding rings in matching styles. “Excuse me,” the brunette said brightly, leaning down to meet Lyra’s eyes. She towered over her just a bit, and Lyra had to work to find her words. “Hi, uh… are these your seats?” Lyra managed to ask. “They are,” the brunette smiled. “My wife and I didn’t expect this plane to be so full, so we got the window and the aisle hoping to have the row to ourselves.” “Oh…” Lyra didn’t think about that. When she booked this seat, the two beside her were already taken. Without thinking, she offered: “Well, I could move over if you’d like to sit together.” “I want the window,” the blonde called from the aisle, a touch of annoyance in her voice. “And we paid for those seats.” “That’s a fair point,” the brunette replied, though it wasn’t clear if she was still talking to Lyra or her spouse. “Let’s keep the arrangement for now.” Then, distinctly to Lyra: “Would you please let us in?” “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” Lyra quickly stood up and shimmied her way into the aisle. When getting on the plane, she had been so cognizant to take small, careful steps and to keep her hips still. But in her hurry, every step made Lyra’s diaper crinkle. The blonde woman glanced up at her wife and the brunette raised her eyebrows. Lyra didn’t even notice the sound in her bout of social awkwardness, but after the blonde took her seat by the window - and Lyra sat down again on her padded butt - she was reminded what she was wearing. No one heard anything, Lyra thought to herself: another rationalization. All my friends say no one can even tell. They have other things to worry about. Not everyone thinks about a stranger’s underwear. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra wished she had just worn panties like she wanted to. Once again, her efficiency was getting in the way of her comfort. The plane took off without incident. Soon, the three women - with a cabin of other inconsequential characters - were soaring high above the clouds. The brunette took the armrest on Lyra’s right and the blonde took the armrest on Lyra’s left. Lyra sunk further into her seat and sighed, playing with her fingers in her lap. The middle seat is so undignified, she mused. This is middle-seat sub culture at its finest. Every so often, the women would talk over Lyra, sharing a sentence or two, and returning to their own respective forms of entertainment. The blonde watched a video on her phone; she must have been paying for wifi. The brunette was reading a mystery novel, as far as Lyra could tell by the cover. But inevitably, talking over Lyra meant talking to Lyra. “So you live in L.A.?” the brunette asked her. “Or are you visiting someone?” “I live there. I was spending the weekend with some friends.” “Oh, that’s quite a long flight to visit friends. How did you meet?” “Uh… online.” Lyra avoided that answer wherever she could. She had the sneaking suspicion that a majority of people felt online friends were somehow less than real-life friends. If anything, this weekend proved otherwise. But the strangers on the plane didn’t have her experiences. “Lindsay and I met online,” the brunette said, nodding to her wife. “I’m Margo, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Lyra.” “Lyra. That’s a cute little name, isn’t it?” “I, uh…” Lyra’s face flushed. ‘Cute’ was a diminishing enough adjective without the added ‘little’. “Very cute,” Lindsay interjected, leaning away from the window to join the conversation. “What do you do for work, Lyra?” Margo asked. “I… IT stuff. Computer stuff…” There was a more complicated answer there, but Lyra was halfway between ‘it’s not worth explaining’ and ‘I feel like I’m forgetting half the English language’. “Wow, that’s hard work,” Margo said. “Very grown up stuff,” Lindsay added. “I never would have thought you did stuff like that.” Lyra sunk further into the seat and nodded her head, unsure of what to say. Her face was hot and the way the women were speaking to her didn’t sound very realistic. It sounded like something she would read in a story. All the same, they seemed to have the same effect. “Would you like any drinks?” someone asked from the aisle. A woman was standing there with a cart of soda cans and water bottles. Lyra didn’t even hear her approach. “Yes. A water for me,” Margo said. “Sprite, please,” Lindsay said. And before Lyra could answer, Margo said: “And a water for Lyra, if that’s no trouble.” Lyra blinked in surprise. Had this stranger just ordered for her? But Lyra would have just ordered a water anyway. It didn’t seem like it was worth arguing. “Make sure to drink all of it,” Margo said, passing Lyra the plastic cup. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.” “I… yeah… okay…” Lyra put the cup to her lips and took a long sip. She was thirsty anyway. “So what do you do for fun?” Lindsay asked, sipping her own drink. Lindsay was definitely the more animated of the two, almost childlike in quality. But her height made Lyra feel small, especially when Lindsay would lean in and Lyra had to look up to talk to her. “I, uh… tabletop games. Dance. Rock climbing.” “Rock climbing?” Lindsay seemed surprised. “I bet you are the kind of girl that always got out of her crib.” Lyra stared dumbfounded, like a deer in headlights. “I… what…?” “Your crib,” Lindsay repeated. “You know, like when you’re a baby and you pull yourself over the bars? I bet you did that a lot.” “I… I’m not sure…” Lyra’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Lindsay’s questions weren’t even that invasive, but Lyra kept hearing something else. She can’t possibly know, Lyra rationalized yet again. This is just my brain playing tricks on me. Ego-centrism. Not everything is about me. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra couldn’t pull the rest of her together. She was bumbling through words like a toddler, and Lindsay pressed the advantage. “I love your hair.” She raised her hand to the side of Lyra’s head. “You don’t mind, do you?” “N-no, I guess not…” Not many people touched Lyra’s hair on a lark, but it didn’t seem too out of place. Lindsay’s fingers twirled Lyra’s colored tips, pulling just hard enough for Lyra to feel it. Then Lindsay picked new strands to play with, working her way across the many different colors. “Gosh you’re pretty…” Lindsay whispered, just loud enough for Lyra to hear. Lyra felt a cold cup in her hand as Margo passed her the glass of water. “Drink up, cutie,” Margo said with confidence and clarity, issuing a command like a lighthouse through the fog. Without a thought, Lyra took another long sip of the water and the cup was soon empty. Lindsay’s motions through Lyra’s hair went from twirling to running, like a rake through ocean sand. Lyra slid further down in her seat and looked up blearily at the two women. She was so warm, like ice cream melting in summer heat. Margo leaned down and tilted Lyra’s head by the chin, so that they made eye contact. “You like doing what you’re told, hm?” Margo asked. Without thinking, Lyra’s head nodded. In truth, when asked about it later, Lyra wasn’t sure if she nodded herself or if Margo did it for her. “Do you want me to tell you what to do?” Margo queried, much unlike the other question. The other one was a formality. This one was curious. Lindsay’s fingers played with Lyra’s hair and the both of them were so big… If they’re big, then I’m small, Lyra rationalized. If I’m small, then she should tell me what to do. Right? Nonetheless, a part of Lyra wondered if this was right. They were strangers, after all! But so were a few of the people she met over the weekend. If she had learned anything in the past few days, it was to let things happen. Did Lyra feel safe? Yes. Did Lyra like this? Yes. It seemed like ‘yes’ was the right answer. This time when Lyra nodded her head, she knew it was her that did it. “Good girl,” Margo whispered, and kissed Lyra softly on the forehead. “The first thing you’re going to do is put your thumb in your mouth. You’ll suck on it as a reminder that you aren’t to speak. You’re to listen and do what you’re told. Only take it out when you want us to stop.” Her thumb in her mouth? She was in public! There were dozens of people around her! But they are all facing forward, Lyla rationalized. No one will see. And if they did, why does it matter? I will never see anyone on this plane again. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra just wanted to obey the beautiful women. In her floaty, submissive state, that was the part that mattered. So Lyra put her thumb in her mouth and sucked softly on it, glancing up at Margo for approval. “Good little Lyra,” Margo cooed, kissing her once more on the forehead. Lindsay continued to play with her hair and Lyra was overwhelmed by the affection. “Now Lindsay and I are going to tell you what is about to happen. We will give you a list of instructions, but you only need to worry about one at a time. You worry about the first one. When you do that, we move onto the next. Do you understand?” Lyra nodded. She was pretty sure she understood. Worry about the first one, and look forward to the rest. “The first thing you’re going to do is wet your diaper,” Margo whispered into Lyra’s ear, loud enough that only the three of them in that row could hear. But Lyra’s heart rate skyrocketed. “Shhh,” Lindsay cooed, pulling Lyra closer. “We know you’re wearing one. It’s okay. It’s safer for little baby girls to travel in a diaper, don’t you think? It’s better than having an accident and asking a stewardess to clean it up, right?” Lyra knew there was some flaw in Lindsay’s logic, a string left unpulled. But for the life of her, she couldn’t find it. Everything Lindsay said sounded so right… so Lyra nodded again. “Good girl, such a good girl…” Lindsay rubbed her thumb across Lyra’s cheek and Lyra sucked harder on her own thumb. “Now all you gotta do is what all little girls do. One little accident will lead to so much fun. Just like playing with your toys. Getting up and using the potty is so much work.” “Take your time,” Margo said softly. “Your next instruction isn’t until the plane lands, so you have a few hours.” The next instruction… Lyra had forgotten for a brief moment that there would be more to follow. One leads to the next, leads to the next. But Lyra wasn’t kept in suspense. The two women alternated telling her every order she was to follow for the rest of the day. “When the plane lands, you are going to text two friends and give them our address,” Margo said. “You’ll hold our hands - in the middle, just like now - as we lead you down to the baggage claim,” Lindsay said. “You’ll tell us which luggage is yours by pointing, and we will get it.” “We will walk you to the parking lot, and you’ll waddle between us in your soaking wet diaper.” “You’ll get in our car, in the back seat, and we will buckle you in.” “You’ll be allowed to ask three questions on the ride home, if you use a convincing little girl voice.” “We will ask you to choose between Burger King or McDonalds on the way home, but you’ll be getting a kids’ meal.” “When we get back to the house, we will feed you at the kitchen table.” “You’ll raise your arms when we take off your dress.” “You’ll suck your pacifier when we put it in your mouth; I assume there’s one in your bag.” “You’ll lie on the bed and be a very good girl as we strip you of your soggy diaper—” “—and change you into a fresh one with lots of baby powder.” “You’ll cooperate when we dress you in the cutest little baby clothes we find in your suitcase.” “You’ll thank us when we tie your colorful hair in pigtails.” “We’ll take you out into the living room and put on a movie of your choice—” “—age appropriate of course.” “And I will pull you onto my lap,” Margo whispered. “You’ll watch quietly and helplessly as I strip off my shirt and unhook my bra. You’ll latch onto my breast when I put the nipple into your mouth. You’ll nurse like the good baby girl you are.” “And while you do,” Lindsay cooed, “you’ll spread your legs wide, flashing your diaper. You’ll keep your knees apart while I run my hand across the crinkling plastic, pressing and rubbing the padding.” “You’ll show us both how much you love being a baby—” “—and how much you love your diapers.” “And if you do—” “—if you’re a good little baby—” “—if you prove you want nothing more than to be our obedient little girl—” “—then you can lay in bed with us tonight—” “—in the middle—” “—just like right now—” “—with a beautiful woman on each side of you—” “—eager to make you happy—” “—and asking nothing in return but a little obedience.” “It all starts with one little accident,” Lindsay cooed. “Do what you’re told,” Margo whispered. Lyra’s mind was fogged over with thick wisps of smoke, like signals from a campfire. Each one had a message for her: You’re a good girl. You’re just a baby. Babies have accidents. You’re so small. You’re not in charge. They’re in charge. They are so big. Do what they say. Be the best little girl. Do what you’re told. So Lyra did what she was told. Between two gorgeous women, in the middle seat in a row of seats, on an airplane with a hundred people around her, Lyra wet her diaper. She felt the heat flood between her legs, spreading across her bare butt, and then the familiar comfort and safety of her padding soaking it all up. Though she didn’t leak, though she didn’t make a sound, though she didn’t give any indication of what she had done, Margo and Lindsay each kissed her on different cheeks and whispered at the same time in their respective ears: “Good girl, Little Lyra.” Then the rest of Lyra’s day went exactly as described. [End.] ------------- If you enjoy the story, please Like and Comment! Also consider joining our Patreon, where you can 50+ more stories in ePub and PDF formats. ❤️

Oh my gosh thank you so much!! ❤️ Realism was definitely a big thing for us in this story.

I'm glad you liked it. I love seeing endings where characters really grow to understand their problems and try to solve them, even if it doesn't show the "whole picture" kinda thing. The character growth is really what matters. And though I'm sure Lanny and Hayden will both have a lot of troubles on the horizon, I think this is a nice wrap up to their big problems!

33.) Lanny tumbled off the couch as I grabbed her wrist and dragged her across the carpet. "OHMIGOD WHAT IS GOING ON!" "Hush up." I pulled her into Marie's room where she was waiting with the scissors and her and I both helped my sister into the vanity chair. "Hold still, Lanny." Marie snipped her scissors in the air and sprayed some water onto Lanny’s head. "What?! You're not cutting—" "I didn't ask your opinion." Maybe it was because I'd never talked back to her before, but Lanny quickly shut up and Marie went to work. Marie continued to cut my hair and I frowned as I looked in the mirror, very nervous. The expression I wore reminded me a lot of Hayden, with fear in my eyes and my lip between my teeth. "You can’t just… we have to be the same…" "Like you can’t just go around telling people I have feelings for them? Like you can’t just break up with your girlfriend without talking to her, and then go putting all that pressure on someone else?" Words aside, I don’t think I’d ever sounded so angry at Lanny in my life. We didn’t really fight. But she really screwed up. "I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean…" Tears started to fill my eyes. I cried so rarely that I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about it. Should I wipe them away? But when I tried to hang my head, Marie tilted it back up and snipped away a part of my hair. I watched it fall onto my shoulder in the mirror. Maybe she hated me now. Maybe she didn’t want to be the same anymore… "I’ll be a boy if you want… please don’t be different…" Anger was never an emotion I was very good at. I took a deep breath and sighed, smiling down at my sister. "It’s okay. We aren’t going to be different. Marie’s going to cut my hair too, so we look the same." "And it’ll be a girl’s style," Marie added. I blinked in surprise, looking at both of them through the mirror. What…? "But what you did was really awful, and you should feel bad about it," I said, trying to keep the momentum going. Unfortunately, I’d lost all the fire. Lanny’s eyes took the wind out of my sails. "Just… talk to me next time…" "Sometimes you’re hard to talk to about your feelings," I laughed a little, wiping my tears away. Another snippet of hair fell onto my shoulders and I felt myself tense with anxiety. Long hair = girly, right? But by the time Marie was done, it would actually look a lot more feminine. "Well try anyway. I want to be the same." I’d start wearing socks like Marie did too, so the feet thing wouldn't be a dead giveaway between my sister and I. I could have the best of both worlds, my individuality and my synergistic sister. "Okay... okay!" I smiled as little bits of my hair fell to the floor and Marie snipped away. "So how did things go? What time is it?" "I regret to inform you that I have stolen your girlfriend, Lanny." "Oh. Drat." I rolled my eyes as an initial response, but my stomach churned and my chest hurt. This was really happening... I mean. It was right and all! But... but... Hayden was... was mine, and... why did this have to be so hard? I knew she wasn't happy. I knew I'd have to mitigate that somehow, but I wasn't sure what the answer would be, yet. I wondered if... if maybe I should just let Marie deal with it. She was so good at things like this. But it was a sisterly thing. So when both our haircuts were done and we were identical again, with the exception of my painted toes, I excused myself from Marie's room. Lanny was standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, and I stood far behind her. "Lanny..." "I'm really proud of you." It was a sincere statement, though it was dressed in the manner of a parent telling her child that she was proud of them for turning themselves in for a crime - that is to say, my tone was bittersweet. My emotions were bittersweet. My chest hurt just a little more than I wanted, but it was okay. I'd be okay. It would be okay. "Lanny, I... I really wanna... wanna try to be more of me. You want that too, right? That's why you told Marie...?" She nodded and I looked at the ground. "I never thought I could, not since mom died, and... and today was just... it was such a step forward. I'm scared, really. I have... a life now. A real life, not just your life. And we're girls. Real girls, and starting Monday, girls forever. And none of that scares me. What scares me is... being my own person... and wondering if that person makes Mom proud..." "I think Mom would be more proud of you now than ever before. I think..." I tried not to choke, I really tried! "I wanted to protect you and keep you safe... and... and that way any bad choices were my fault. I promised her I'd keep you safe. When we were... when we were six. I promised, cause I'm older. And I wanted to keep that promise. But I can't now... and that's okay because... because I don't think you need me to. I think maybe even... for a while... you've been keeping me safe..." "I think... what we had... what we tried to have... was... probably just... something unnecessary. I think that... dating or... kissing or any of that was supposed to bring us closer together, something to link us when everything else was changing. But I don't wanna be linked by kisses and stuff, Lanny. I don't think I ever did. I was so scared of losing you, because I was afraid you wouldn’t hold me tight enough, but I can hold on too. I wanna be linked by better things, stronger things... and maybe, if you still kind of find it cute, we can dress up like little girls and cuddle on the couch on weekends..." "I think I'd like that..." I turned away from the mirror and leaned against the basin, biting my lip as I looked at my sister. "It can be our... making up for lost time as little girls time. We missed out on being girls at one of the best times to be girls. Does Marie know? About our little kid stuff?" "She knows... she has her own things too, so I guess we sort of balance out. I don't think the things I do with her are going to be like what I did with you, though. She's curious, and you know Marie, always so interested, but... I don't know, she's slower. Less assertive, more calculated." We both nodded at the same time and I smiled. "Lanny... I feel like... I feel like it's more than just me that's free - you're free too, of always needing to keep your shadow in my reach. We'll always be twins, always have our synergy. But now we can be real people, too..." "I know..." It was going to be difficult to adjust. Things had been this way for so long, ever since Mom died, and even becoming a girl hadn't changed anything about that nearly so much as today would. But there was something else, something I wanted to say, something I needed to, something I was afraid to. "I think... I think maybe... I might. I mean... maybe I... I might have a small crush anyway..." "You have a crush? Like on a person, not like, an anime character or something?" Wow. Lanny had a crush. I didn't think Lanny would ever have a crush. And then I thought... "Lanny I swear to God if you're crushing on Marie I will kill you! I mean it! Seriously, it took me forever!" "His name is Carson." Four words. Four words that would have changed a whole lot more than anything so far, if today hadn't already happened the way it had. Well, really only the first word changed things. His. His name. His name is Carson. His, which when used in a possessive pronoun form implied a boy. "I... I don't know any Carsons..." I didn't like this. Marie we'd known since we were like, 10. But Carson? Carson. Random boy from random place fucking my sister. I felt my body heat rise and I crossed my arms. "I don't like him." "Oh Hayden." "No! Find someone else! Someone I know!" "He's in one of my classes and he wears eyeliner and his hair just does this... this thing! And... and when started coming to classes as a girl he sat down next to me even though we'd never talked before and he said that sometimes people are assholes and he couldn't stamp out all the assholes in the world, but for ninety minutes a day he could protect me from them." My cheeks were a little pink and I shrugged my shoulders. I looked down at my feet and then at my sister’s, smiling curiously. "He sounds like a butt." "Hayden." "A BUTT! A stupid butt!" But he sounded nice. A nice boy who would take my sister away. Maybe I could just pretend to be Lanny and, like, break them up. Or throw something at him. Or kick him in the penis! IN THE PENIS!!! "Well. You have a girlfriend now! One who's really good with cutting hair and apparently at painting toenails too because wow." My eyes couldn't help but catch my sister’s feet when I was looking down at mine and I looked back up into her eyes. "We could like. All go shopping at Hot Topic. Or double date. Think of the potential!" "I... I don't wanna double date!" I crossed my arms and looked down at the floor. But I knew I was being unfair. Lanny wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. I let out a little sigh and hugged her back. "We could make believe," I said in Hayden’s ear, "and we could switch places when we go to the bathroom and stuff." But when the hug ended, I played with the hem of my top. "Actually... Lanny... I... I really think that... that maybe Mom... wouldn't mind sharing with Marie... being able to tell us apart..." There was the sort of uneasy and elongated silence that was usually a sign of something very bad hanging in the air. It took quite some time for me to actually manage a few words. "...you think so...?" Hayden nodded without a pause and I nodded as well, looking back down at her feet. "Maybe..." "She wouldn't get it right away like Mom always could... she wouldn't... but... but I've spent so much... time in my life... so much of my life, trying to make it so Mom was... special. And it's been really hard, and... and I think I've made a lot of bad decisions because of it. So maybe... this is... okay?” I shook my head and took a step back, wiping my cheeks before Lanny saw any tears. "Nevermind... I'm not thinking clearly. I'm tired... sweet dreams, Lanny..." I pushed my sister against the wall very gently, putting my hands on her hips and pressing my forehead to hers, though we didn't kiss. We wouldn't anymore, not like we had been. Just like sisters; that would be okay. "Mom is special. Mom is so special. But she doesn't need our help to be special, Hayden. Nothing we can do can make her any more or any less special because she's already so... so... transcendental. She'll always love us. And I think she'd be really proud of us today. Well. Of you... you've grown more in two hours than I have in five years..." "You're a girl, you dummy," I said with tears on my cheeks. I brushed them away with the back of my hand and rested my forehead against my sisters. "And you're looking for boyfriends and not being dressing up in your room anymore. And we can cuddle with pacifiers on the sofa and we both have people we like. I... I don't know, Lanny, but... but maybe this is... how we be happy. How we be happy together." "I think so too..." It was weird how things could turn out. There are days you wake up and go to sleep and it's like that day might not even have happened and nothing would be different, and then there were days like today where the course of two lives could so suddenly change direction in the space of hours. And maybe life can be condensed like that, compressed and distilled down into a series of a dozen or less pivotal days that provide momentum and direction, like bursts of a spaceship’s engines that give you the push you need to coast until the next. "I love you, Lanny," I said with a little smile, and wrapped my hand in hers. I'd lay with her that night, but rarely a night at Marie's after. I'd learn to spend time with my girlfriend without my sister. My sister would learn to spend time without me. And Marie understood sometimes that just didn't work out, and we all watched TV together, and she'd paint my toenails and I'd suck my pacifiers. I wasn't sure when our next pivotal moment would be, but until then, between this one and the next, for once in my life I was really enjoying the ride. [End] --------------- Thank you for reading! Complete PDFs and ePubs are available on our Patreon, along with 50+ other completed stories. Please check it out!

32.) Marie blushed a little bit and sat down on the bed, putting her feet up, clad in pink socks. Marie always wore socks - she had poor circulation, or so she told any of her friends, and she felt the cold a lot. So she wore socks. Now, though, she pulled one of her socks off. Her feet were very pretty as far as feet went, and the nails of her toes were painted a baby blue, with a delicate silver toe-ring around one of her littler toes with matching pastel-color gems. All in all, it was almost an anachronism, because Marie was a very low maintenance girl. "I like to make my feet look really nice... because.... because I think sometimes when they're pretty... that... that girls feet can be really nice..." And now Marie's cheeks were pinker than Hayden’s. "That's super weird. But it totally doesn't beat mine." All in all, it did help. I knew it did, and Marie knew it did, despite the poor choice of comment. She didn't take it personally, though - she would have been more put off if I was pandering. "Okay, so, when I say childish, I mean, like... I dress up like... a little girl... and stuff. Well, that's not fair, because it was a little boy before Lanny told me about all this." With scarlet cheeks, Marie pulled her sock back on over her foot as she listened to Hayden, and then for good measure she put her legs under the covers self-consciously. "So like... little girl dresses and plastic jewelry from Claire's and butterfly clips and stuff? Stuff like that? That's not weirder than mine. I mean. Not that it's a contest..." "It is so a contest, and yes it is!" "Not really..." "You're-" I bit my lip and lowered my tone, looking at the door where, about an hour ago, Lanny had left us alone. She'd be asleep by now, probably on the couch, waiting for me. I turned my attention to my own bare feet, unpainted and unpretty. "You're thinking too old..." "...Claire's is too old? If you're too young for Claire's, chances are you can't walk ye—"The penny dropped and the girls eyes went wide. "Oh. OH! Oh. Ooooh. Oh. So. Oh..." There were clearly a lot of phases of understanding there, though it wasn't entirely certain if she had a positive or a negative outlook on it after all of that. "Okay, look! It's not... it's not weird! Or...! Or..!" I was already standing up, pacing around the room, my cheeks burning red and avoiding eye contact with the girl I wanted so badly to call my girlfriend. "It's... it's just... clothes. Normal clothes. Just. A different age range. It's like a style. Like hoop skirts, or legwarmers. Nothing serious. At least it's not polished toenails! Though yours are kind of cute, and like, I wouldn't mind you doing that too… but that's not the point!" "Sit." Marie pointed to the spot next to her on the bed, and it was the only thing she said until Hayden obeyed. Once she did, Marie frowned and rolled her eyes, motioning Hayden to turn so her feet were in Marie's lap. "...okay, there's some potential here." She nodded with a little smile and reached over to her bed-side drew, ferreting around for her manicure set as she finally started to address the issue at hand properly. "So tell me some of the things you like to wear." It was weird sitting with my feet in someone else's lap. I'd never had my toes painted before, and I'd certainly never had them carved at with whatever the hell she was carving at them with! It felt very strange... "I... I don't know... I mean... you probably... I don't know..." "Come on. I'm sharing my... thing with you. Share. No secrets." Actually, it was probably a pretty good time to do so, because Marie was become pretty fascinated with the twin’s toes as she worked to try and salvage toe-nails neglected for a quarter of a life-time. Gosh, did Hayden even moisturize?! "This is stupid... yours is cutesy and kind of typical. I mean, not the liking feet thing, but the nice painted toes thing." I pouted and crossed my arms, looking down at my chest. It was aching, a little uncomfortable, and I was hoping it wouldn't get any worse. "Mine's not even important..." "Typical, huh? You see nice painted toes and make it cutesy in your head. And right now I picture you in a onesie and pigtails and it's cutesy in my head. But I mean... there's more to it, right? There is for me. I…" Her cheeks were darkening as she spoke, but Marie was trying her best not to choke on her words. "There's a very good chance I'll want to suck on your toes once I'm done with them. And that's not cutesy, is it? You probably think it's weird, or gross. But I trust you like me enough that you won't see it that way. That maybe you'll want to understand it... and I guess... that's how I want you to think of me? So tell me." I bit my lip and looked down at my hands in my lap, playing idly. She was right. She really was... "Sucking on my toes... doesn't sound so bad, you know..." "Yeah?" "I'm ticklish, though, so..." It was a couple minutes silence while she painted my toenails. I wasn't sure how to word it. I knew she'd accept me, but the words... the words were hard... "Lanny... um... she walked in on me in a... a romper, like... with the overall straps... and a... a pacifier, and a diaper..." "See? Yours stays cutesy all the way home." Her words were supportive, though they came after a little pause to consider the variables - thankfully, she was carefully painting the girl’s toenails so she was able to mask the pause in that. "So you like to wear diapers and dress like a baby? Was that so hard?" There were a lot of questions she had, though: an awful lot. "How long have you been doing it?" "Since, um, maybe I was... fifteen. A year after my mom..." Marie nodded her head and I looked down at my feet. "I never told Lanny, for years. And she never told me about her wearing girl's clothes. We were so close, and still had all these private things. So when we found out, when she walked in on me, we... decided not to hide it anymore." "That's super sweet. See? You've had differences all along - they're not so scary, right?" She was about finished with one of the girl’s feet so she switched over to the other, her cheeks a little pink at the sight of the finished one - it was very very pretty; a little toe-ring and week of moisturizer and... well. "Is it a sexual thing?" "Um... sometimes. I mean, it wasn't very often until Lanny. She kind of... I don't know. I think she liked getting me all vulnerable or something. So now I... I really like it. I mean, when it gets that way. But at the same time, I love it when it's not, either. Sometimes I just like acting all childish, I guess, and sometimes it's... it's really... you know..." Wow, some adult I was, can't even say sexy. "It's like that for me too. Sometimes I think about the stuff I like... like... art, or something. You know? Usually it's like that. But sometimes I think it's really sexy too." Marie was clearly not enjoying discussing her own fetish, but she knew it was helping Hayden. "Is it just a Hayden thing? Or do you like to see others dressing that way, too? Like Lanny? Or... maybe me?" "Oh..." I bit my lip, looking up at Marie in surprise. "I... well, honestly, I never really thought of it. I mean, Lanny has used my pacifiers before, and she even dressed up with—" I stopped myself and quickly turned away. "I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you any of that... um, anyway, I think, maybe, to a degree, it's..." Say it. "sexy... on other people, too. I think..." Marie smiled a that and then looked away from the twin’s foot in her lap to meet her gaze. It was time for one of those questions. "So... diapers. I mean. Do you... I mean. Like a baby would? How's that work. I'm not going to judge, I just want to know is all. I mean. If you want to tell me." It was almost endearing to have Marie so flustered. "I... uhh..." I wasn't sure I'd ever been so red in my entire life. But she was taking it in stride. I could, too. My chest wasn't hurting as badly as I thought it would, anyway… "I only did it twice. Once when I was younger, but it wasn't very... uh... nice. And then again more recently, with... um... Lanny. That time was... uh... nicer..." "It's kinda funny, because it's like... most girls get wet when they get turned on. But you get turned on because you're wet." That finished up both feet and she pursed her lips, slipping out from under the girl after very gently setting both of her feet down on a pillow. "Don't let them touch each other. Or anything." She went over to her vanity and opened the little drawer inside the top drawer, where she kept her toe rings. In for a penny... "Wow... uh... that's kind of a humiliating way to phrase it..." Marie looked a little apologetic and I shook my head. "No, it's okay. It's kind of true. But like I said, it only happened those two times, so... I don't think it'll be a habit or whatever..." "That's a shame." She found what she had in mind and came back, sitting down on the bed and sliding it expertly onto the pinky toe on the girl’s left foot, smiling at the aesthetic, and then fastened an anklet around her right ankle which dangled with an assortment of little delicate charms. The jewelry made a very big difference, though she didn't figure Hayden would ever notice it. "I mean. If you liked it the last time you did it, I don't see why you wouldn't want to do it more. Describe a situation... involving... us. Like a fantasy. With that in it. Go on." "Jesus, Marie, I don't know!" I was a little loud, though, and I looked to the door expectantly. Lanny was a heavy sleeper, and there were no noises outside the door. I felt my cheeks turn pink and I looked down at my foot. "It's pretty…" "They're both pretty. You never wear two anklets or two toe-rings. I mean. You can. But you'd wear a ring on each foot. But still not two anklets. It doesn't look as nice..." Her voice had a dull-tone to it, inflectionless, like they were words she'd only ever said in her head and never out loud. Immediately she blushed. "You have really pretty feet. I… anyway. I mean. Talk to me about this stuff, okay? When you feel okay about it. Your stuff. I'm sorry if I'm too pushy about it." "No, you're not, I just... I don't know. It's never really been... I never wanted anyone to know before Lanny found out. And now, I wanted you to know, but I don't have any... fantasies or whatever..." I leaned forward and ran my fingers along the charms. "Well, we'll work on that." She smiled playfully and sat back on the bed next to Hayden, putting her feet down between the twins and pulling off both of her socks. "Pretty feetsies!" It wasn't much, but she figured maybe the childish choice of words would appeal to the girl. I felt my cheeks turn warm and I looked down at our feet together. I thought, maybe, it was smart to ask the same of her... "Marie... would... I mean, do you like... um... other people, you know, sucking your toes and stuff... like you asked about if I liked other people dressed up?" "I..." Marie, conversely, didn't even have a twin to walk in on her little fixation, so this was all a first for her. "I think about it a lot. I mean. Like. I keep my feet pretty too so maybe it won't be so gross to people, you know. And I always wear socks. Always. So maybe. I don't know. Yes. Yes I think about it. Yes I've thought about it since I told you. Yes it's been more than once..." "Okay, so, at least our weird little fetish things are pretty much the same, but yours are like, feet, and mine are like, playing house. That's not... too bad... right?" Marie and I exchanged an awkward look. "I think... I think this is good... us... and I'd like to be your girlfriend, if that's okay." "I think I'd like that." She put one hand in the girl’s hair and brushed it back behind her ear. "God you're cute. I bet you look even cuter in pigtails, too." Seeing Marie like this - open, vulnerable, caring on a level beyond just trying to keep the peace - was unusual since the break up. I bit my lip and kissed hers, then her cheek, and then her neck, and then stared at her with blushing cheeks. "Thank you for... for caring about me. And now... now I have a favor to ask, if that's okay... and in return, I'll, uh, give you a favor, too, whatever you want!" "Sounds fair..." She was coy but curious and wore a little smile on her lips as she looked the twin in the eye. She hadn't seen Hayden with such a spark in her eyes since... well... maybe since ever. Hayden always just fell in line with Lanny, but things seemed different now. --------------- Thank you for reading! 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31.) "Do you... even like me...?" That was the first thing on my mind, and I guess the rest just came out. "I don't understand. I just don't. Because. I'm scared. And I'm... I'm not sure what to because my chest hurts so bad and it never hurt like this before Mom, and she's really my only measure, and... and I just don't know why it hurts, and I don't know why it won't stop. And it keeps getting worse and worse, and I keep feeling sicker and sicker, and... and... and...." And I was already lightheaded. I swayed in the seat, working for air, my eyes pressed tightly closed. "I liked the person you were the day you broke up with me. The one who didn't want to see me hurt by the games. The you who acted without synergy. The you who wanted something for yourself for one small tiny moment." Marie continued to hold Hayden and play with her hair. "I like the person you are now. Uncertain. But brave enough to allow the future, even if not to face it just yet." "I wanna... be a girl..." She stopped playing with my hair for a moment, then continued. I kept my eyes closed. "I want to make Lanny happy, and... and things are changing. She's going to be so upset. She kept me safe for so long... I have to do the same..." "She told you to tell me how you felt. She told you to be different. You can be a girl. Or a boy. Or whatever. But Lanny wants for you to be happy, doesn't she?" She was right. But my chest wouldn’t stop hurting. My head was pounding with possibilities and I felt like I was on the edge of a panic attack. If Lanny wanted me to be different, why wouldn’t I just listen? That was when I realized… "I...I want to be the same. Not completely, not everything, not you, not my job, and... and even if people can tell us apart, that... well, one day, that'll be okay too. But I want to be the same as her, not because I'm following in her shadow, but because... I just... I like it. I just like it, and it's what I want..." "Then take what you want. Be what you want. As long as it's for you for the first time in your life, then there's no wrong answer." Marie kept playing with Hayden’s hair. Maybe she would give the twins a haircut today, to shape it into something a little more feminine. "I... I want to kiss you." I looked up at Marie nervously, who looked somewhere between surprised and nervous. "You... you would be okay with that? If I did? I just want to make sure you want it, too..." "I've never kissed a girl before. You'll be my first." Her cheeks were actually a little pink as she spoke, which was unusual for Marie. The thing was... it was entirely in character for her, and it only drove forward the idea of her curiosity and desire to let this happen. And perhaps, just maybe, there was some part of her that pined for Hayden as Hayden pined for her. It was a dumb thing to want, but at least it was a want nonetheless, and one of my own. So I put my hands on both sides of the girl's neck, pulling her into me, my fingers holding her in place as I passionately pressed my lips against hers, only twice, and pulled away. We were both blushing. "It's... actually really weird without lip gloss now..." "Top drawer of the vanity." Marie whispered, smiling, her cheeks very red as she looked into Hayden’s eyes. The twin looked back at her and then finally clicked that she meant for her to get it. "It was still very nice..." "I thought so, too..." I climbed up from the bed and went over to the dresser, pulling out one of the little things of lip gloss and putting it on my lips. It was ironic; it was Marie who had taught me all this. I sat on the edge of her bed and she sat up to greet me. It was Marie’s turn now to have her way. She pressed her lips to Hayden’s with the same level of passion, with no hesitation, with no childish doubt. As her lips parted, she spoke softly. "No more games with my heart... please? Just you. I know it's going to be hard with you and Lanny... jus' don't mess with me, okay?" "I... I never wanted to, Marie, I... I really didn't." She kissed me again and I blushed, biting my lip. "You wanted to... to date us both, and I thought that was the closest I'd ever get to having you, so... so I agreed. And it was stupid. I just, I really liked you..." Marie smiled back and kissed my forehead. "But you did have me." "Oh... um, no... not really." "Huh?" "...we never really..." "We... we didn't?" Marie's cheeks were red and she suddenly felt very very shy about her body, which was admittedly a very dumb way to feel because nothing had actually changed. She felt self-conscious nonetheless. "I guess I'm glad... because that means we don't actually have a messy history. Speaking of..." Marie didn't want to ask, but she couldn't help it. "Does that mean you've only ever... been... with Lanny?" "Well..." I bit my lip and looked at my feet. "I mean, I guess... if you want to get technical, we never did..." Sex wasn't really my strong suit. I wasn’t sure if oral counted as sex. "I... I don't wanna keep secrets or... or anything. Okay?" "Okay. Anything you wish you want to tell me, then?" Hayden was blushing and Marie was smiling and it was all so surreal. Gosh it was surreal. Hayden was a girl now and that was fine, but... but Marie was now going to be dating a girl... "I know you're adventurous, like, sexually, and I'm... well, I'm pretty much the opposite of that, you know?" Marie laughed and nodded her head. "Yeah, Hayden, I know." "Well..." I didn't want to tell her, not really, but Lanny would probably just blurt it out or something anyway! "I... um... I like weird things, too..." "...you gave your sister a blowjob, Hayden." Marie wasn't judgmental though; she was just making a comparison. "What could possibly compare to that little gem?" "You're kind of right, huh?" We were both sitting on the bed now, my hand in hers and my head on her shoulder. "I really never thought of it that way..." Maybe this wasn't so weird. But I didn't know how to phrase it. "Um... I can't really explain it, though... Lanny knows, because she kind of walked in on me or whatever, but... but I don't know how to explain it..." "Then just tell me, and because you told me and I didn't have to find out by walking in on you, that makes me special." Marie had to be careful not to draw too many comparisons between her and Lanny, or to compete with the twin - if she started a contest like that, she knew she would lose. "Okay, I guess... well..." Well... I like... I like dressing... no, that's not right. It's this kind of fetish... is it, though? Blah. Um... "Well... it's hard to... okay, it's like... wearing… no, acting like... no, it's more... about... ugh, this is so stupid... um..." "You have five words." Marie held up one hand to show all the fingers and to give a visual cue to her instruction. "Nothing you can't say with five words is worth saying. So put it into five words and then you'll know what you told me was said in the best possible way you could ever have said it." Marie's little games were well-known to both the twins and usually always achieved results. "Five?" "Five." "Only five?" "Yes." "...that's not possible." "Try." Five words. Okay. Bab- no. Um. I like to be tre- that's already five. I like acting like a- fuck. Um... I... no... um... I like to be a- no... I. I... I like. I like being. Being? Wrong word. Acting. No. Treated. I like being treated. Treated... young. Childish. "I like being treated childishly." Perfect. Just vague enough to gauge a reaction! "...I don't get it." "You only gave me five words!!" "So... like you want me to take you to get ice cream and buy you a dolly?" Despite the high potential for inaccuracy and embarrassment, Marie was very careful not to come across mocking in the rare case that she was more accurate than she thought. She looked the twin in the eyes and those same eyes actually flashed with a little spark of interest. I felt my cheeks turn red and I could only hope it wasn't visible in the darkness of Marie's bedroom. "I... I don't know... maybe... kind of... but... a little... more than that, but not all the time. Like, it's kind of like, a situational thing, like... like... like wearing your hair in a ponytail. Sometimes you do it, sometimes you don't..." Though Marie never wore ponytails. It was a terrible example. I was flustered. "Tell me what you were doing when Lanny walked in on you?" That question would probably elicit a much more useable and functional response, especially over the babbling diatribe that the girl was spluttering through. Marie kissed her lips softly and rolled her eyes. "Come on. Out with it." "I... um... don't remember..." I knew, at the very least, of what I was wearing. I think I was kicking the trunk back under my bed, actually. Or maybe that wasn't it. It was so long ago. "I guess we'll never know, oh well." I went to kiss her again, but she pushed my forehead away. Damn. "No secrets, remember? I'll tell you something secret about me if you tell me like a good girl, okay?" ‘Like a good girl’ was an experimental phrase, something like trying out a ponytail as Hayden had put it. It seemed to make Hayden blush. "You first...?" Marie gave me a serious look and I bit my lip. "It might help, is all, if you go first. I just mean. You're kind of beautiful and stuff, and I'm just blah. So really, I have much more to lose." She pushed me gently and I smiled up at her, kissing her cheek. "Please?" "Fine." Marie sighed and shook her head. Sometimes handling Hayden was a lot like dealing with a child anyway. --------------- Thank you for reading! 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30.) This was stupid. How'd I get roped into this? I didn't like Marie. But I did. I knew I did. I tried not to, I tried really hard, but I knew I did... "Hi..." "Sit down, please." "I... I'd rather..." "Please," she repeated. I sat down on the edge of her bed. I watched my fingers play with each other in my lap, my feet kicking at the floor. I didn't want this... not like this... "I want you to be honest with me, Hayden, because this can be a really quick thing or a really drawn-out thing. It's going to last as long as it takes for you to be truthful with me. So if you want it to be quick, you can make it quick." The girl pulled herself into a sitting position and smiled at Hayden to show that she wasn't angry at him. "Tell me what you're thinking?" I liked this about Marie. It was always one of my favorite things about her, a one of a kind thing. She cared what I was thinking. She asked. She liked hearing how I thought, how insane I was. Even Lanny didn't ask those questions... "I'm thinking... that this is bad... and that... Lanny's stupid, and she... she probably made this worse, and... and I'm thinking I'm going to freak out or something, which I think... maybe... I'm doing pretty good at not doing..." But I wasn't. My fingers were shaking. Fucking Lanny. Fucking stupid Lanny... "You're pretty calm for someone who just had her sister out her feelings to her best friend." Marie leveled praise where praise was due and she reached across and took one of the trembling hands, partly for comfort and partly to steady it. "And what are you thinking about me, Hayden? This is a toy box; let’s empty it all out at once and figure out the toys we want once they're all on the floor, okay?" I let her hold my hand. I didn't look at her, and the other one played with itself all alone, but at least I let her hold my hand. "I think... I like you..." But maybe she wanted more. Was there more? "I like... how you make me feel all... warm and... and happy and stuff, and you never make me feel stupid for getting upset over little things. And... and I like you keeping me and Lanny from lying, and... I like... I like the way you play with my hair, and the way you always order dessert at restaurants, even if it’s to-go…" Marie smiled sideways and sighed a little bit, squeezing the twins hand softly. "You broke up with me, Hayden. Remember?" She wasn't trying to refute the twin’s feelings; she just came across as though she were trying to remind Hayden what had happened, like he could have forgotten. "If you like me so much, do you think that's the best way to show it?" "...I..." I bit my lip and took my hand back from Marie. I couldn't do this. I was good at a lot of things, but my breakup with Marie... I couldn't do that one. I shook my head and stood up off the bed, but before I could get too far, she took hold of my wrist and turned me around. My bangs covered my eyes. "What?" Lie. Lie and keep being a good person. Keep being a good friend... "I wanted you... to myself..." "You don't want anything to yourself, Hayden. You want to share everything with Lanny. Everything." It wasn't a criticism, but a statement of fact to put everything out in the open. "What makes me so special? I'm not special, Hayden. I'm just a girl. Just any girl." I shook my head, tears pouring down my cheeks. She didn't expect that. She quickly hurried to her feet and wrapped me into a hug. I didn't hug her back, though. I started to cry, to really cry. "I'm... I'm so selfish... I'm so horrible... I'm so sorry... so sorry... I never meant to hurt you, and I meant to tell you, and I couldn't... I just didn't know how... and I should never have told you, either... so selfish... so fucking..." "You are the least selfish person I have ever met, Hayden. Shoot." As she held the boy she was almost laughing, though it wasn't in a hysterical lost in the moment sort of way - it was in the you-said-something-really-silly kind of way. "You do everything for that sister of yours. Everything! You're... you're... it's like you're just afraid to be yourself. Without her..." I rubbed the tears off my cheeks on Marie's shoulder, only to have them replaced a second later. She took a step back from me, still holding my shoulders, and I looked up at her. She wasn't that much taller than me, but enough to make a difference. "I... I just wanna..." I shook my head and Marie played with my hair. "I wanna be like Lanny..." "Why?" "...because..." "Take you time. Find your answer." Marie ran her thumb up the twin’s cheek to wipe away the latest lane of tears and smiled weakly, not wanting to put on pressure. Hayden was so focused on being like Lanny... so afraid to be her own person... I looked down at my feet, but Marie took my chin in her hand and had me look up at her the way Lanny had begun doing. I bit my lip and tried to think which of them came up with that. "If I’m different to Lanny, people will be able to tell us apart. And then Mom isn’t special anymore…" As she played with Hayden's hair, she spoke softly into her ear: "Your Mom would be so proud of you for being the beautiful girl you are right now, Hayden. But don't you think she’d want you to live your life for you? Do you think she dreamed about what the two of you might accomplish and become? She'll always be special because she made you. Both of you. Two beautiful sons, two beautiful daughters..." I nodded my head, tears still pouring down my cheeks. I hugged her as tightly as I could. I didn't want her to let go... "I know... and I know one day Lanny's gonna get a job without me, and our games have to end, and... and I know it'll come. I've known for years. But... but I'm not ready... I'm so sorry, but I'm just not ready, not yet..." "Nobody ever thinks they're ready until long after they've already done it." Marie held Hayden as she shook softly and continued to fight her tears as best she could despite the futility of the effort. "It's time for you to stop being Lanny's shadow, and start being her sister. She needs you to be, because how else will she grow without you to show her how?" "...we... we can't look alike...?" Even the mere thought hurt my chest. I thought I'd seize up and die right there. I clung tighter to Marie, my entire body trembling as she played with my hair. I could barely breathe... "You can look however you'd like to, Hayden. But I think if you want to be able to feel okay with asking me on a date" - the girl hadn't implicitly said that, but Marie thought she'd put the card on the table - "then you're going to have to be okay with being different. With being you, and not Lanny's shadow." I never really thought of myself in Lanny's shadow, but it was like she'd said. Safe. With her, I was safe. I was always safe with my sister, no matter what happened. But now, this was different. Why was this different? Because... "Marie... you're... you're the kind of different I'm okay being..." And those words would be more powerful than anyone's "I love you" in history. --------------- Thank you for reading! Like, Comment, and check us out on Patreon!

29.) "I thought you wanted to date..." Lanny looked at the floor with a little fake smile. It had been two more weeks. Two more visits to Marie’s house. We had basically been living as girls at school for the better part of it, all but in name. Hannah was handling things well, but Oliver had been giving us some distance. He was just starting to come around. Of course, Mimi was furious. We still hadn’t had “the talk” with her. All in all, things were falling into place. Lanny was getting everything she wanted. So why was this happening? "You're perfect for me, Hayden. Absolutely perfect." "I don't really... understand why that's bad..." This wasn't like her to talk this way. Even the trips to Marie’s didn’t seem to be much fun anymore. And she always asked about 'us'... was she having second thoughts? Did she not want this anymore? "Lanny, what's bugging you?" "You're perfect... and that means I'm always going to see you that way. And when I'm not perfect, when I screw things up... I'm going to get this doubt in my head like..." I looked up at my sister with glossy eyes and an awkward smile. Hayden looked at me with a confused expression on her pretty face. "I think I only want to be with you because it's easier that way. But I don't think love is s'posed to be easy... is it?" "I... I don't know. It's easy in movies..." "I guess..." "Yeah, and... and I don't know. I could be happy with you forever, I think. So what if it's easy? It feels nice. Comfortable." "Safe?" "Yeah, safe. Like I know I'm not gonna get hurt, you know?" "Is that what you want?" "To not be hurt? Don't be stupid, Lanny." "You've always followed my lead, Hayden. It's our thing. It's our synergy. We share everything. We do everything. I love that we do..." I couldn't sit there anymore, so I stood up. I took my hand out of his and walked into the kitchen, though I didn't know what I was doing there. "You still like Marie, don’t you? I know you do because the look you get in your eyes... you've been hiding it though." My glare shot sideways, through the living room to the door at the end, where Marie was sleeping just behind it. I felt anxiety burn my lungs as I wondered if she'd heard anything, but I knew she hadn't. Her doors were pretty thick, anyway. "I... what... what are you talking about? I don't like Marie. I want you." "You want me because I'm an option and you already know I accept you and your..." I didn't say the word, though the color of his cheeks made it abundantly clear that he knew what I was talking about. "I'm safe. I'm safe because I know and I accept it. Just like you're safe because you accept me and encourage me and..." It was such a fucking mess. "But that's a good thing, Lanny! Comfort is a good thing, and safe is a good thing, and... and I don't know what you're so bent out of shape about!" It was our weekend away... what was happening? We were supposed to be happier here... I came out of the kitchen and quickly climbed on top of my sister, pinning her down to the sofa and kissing her lips as softly and as tenderly as I could. I didn't kiss like that. Marie kissed like that. Marie had such a way with kissing. And I felt my twin melting into the sofa beneath me as I played with her hair the way Marie liked to do. I trembled beneath Lanny, my fingertips shaking on the soft fabric of the couch. I'd gotten used to the spontaneity of our kisses, especially the past couple weeks, but this was different, this was... romantic? Lanny wasn't really a romantic girl. I sunk further into the couch and when her lips finally pulled away from mine I let out a tiny sigh, my cheeks red. "Wow..." I looked down at my sibling and then at the bedroom down and bit my lip, regretting every word of what I was saying. "I love you. I love you more than anybody else could ever love you because we're the same, Hayden..." There was a pause before I sighed. "We're only together because it's safe... because neither of us can stand to picture the idea of the other dating someone else. But if you date Marie... so little will change between us. I mean... besides... besides the obvious." Like the blowjobs. "Why do you keep talking about her? And seriously, keep it down. I don't like Marie. She's just a friend. You're the one that had sex with her! I never did! Gosh, Lanny, just..." I tried to push her off me but she pinned my wrists down against the cushion. I lost my breathe. "Because... because..." Why? Why? Why? Because... "Because we're only dating because it's safe..." And why else? Why else, Lanny? Because you can't stand to see her heartbroken so you're trying to push her away onto someone else? Is that it? No, because... "Because you've never done anything for you, ever. You're so selfless and you deserve a win. And I want you to look me in the eye right now and tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you're not in love with her." "I'm not in love with her..." But my eyes flinched, looking away from my sister and toward the couch. Fuck. "I'm the one that broke us up, you idiot! Why would I do that? Huh? Because I couldn't be with her anymore. It was sick and weird, and she's just... too high maintenance. Always butting in and thinking she knows best. She’s annoying." "You broke us up because you didn't want her to be for us; you wanted for her to be for you. And I don't mean that you're selfish, because you're the least selfish person in the world. You knew she wanted something that wasn't all messed up and twisted in our synergy. You did it for her." Hayden had been struggling, but the wriggling stopped at those words for a moment. "Just... stop it... stop..." I had tears on my cheeks and I looked away from Lanny. She took my chin in her hand and forced my hazy eyes up at her. She was smiling, but not the kind of smile I liked seeing: the kind that was worried. She got off me the next minute and walked straight into Marie's bedroom. Wait, what? Wait! "WAIT!" "Marie. Marie." I had to act very very quickly before my sister caught up. The girl stirred in her bed and half sat up. "What?" "Hayden needs to talk to you about her feelings. For you." I pushed past my sister on the way out and closed the door, leaving them both in the bedroom together. Marie had a confused look on her face and she rubbed her eyes slowly, looking at Hayden. "Feelings?" "Just our mutual desire to kill my sister!" I tugged at the doorknob until it swung open, nearly knocking me back into Marie's lap. I stumbled into the middle of the room and looked up at Lanny in the doorway. I ran up against her and tried to push my way out of the room, but Lanny wouldn't let me. "Stop!" Marie's word made us both freeze and we stood still at each other's sides. "What is going on?" Her voice was stern, collected and calm in an eerie way - like she was talking to a pair of children. "The truth. Count to ten. Then answer at the same time. If your answer is different, I'll know you're both lying and you'll go through this again until I know the truth." One. Fuck. Two. She hadn't done this in years. Three. Not since before we dated. Four. Not since the beginning of high school, really. Five. When we'd play tricks on her and she could never get the truth out of us. Six. And it always worked. Seven. And now Lanny was against me. Eight. And I knew what she'd say. Nine. But I couldn't lie. Ten. "Hayden likes you." And I was Hayden, even to her, as evidenced by the water still on my cheeks from earlier. Maybe she didn't expect the answer, maybe she did, but she didn't give it away either way. She just looked at Lanny and then at Hayden and spoke very clearly. "Lanny. Close the door." I smiled at my sister and pulled the door closed behind me, leaving the two of them alone. It made my chest hurt and I had to unbutton my top as I sat down on the sofa and tried to stop the sound of waves in my ears. Hayden was mine. Hayden was mine. But it wasn't good for her... --------------- Thank you for reading! Like, Comment, and check us out on Patreon!

Oliver is a simple boy, and I mean that in the most insulting way possible. XD Mimi is just an idiot. Or she likes to play one, anyway. I have a sneaking suspicion a lot of it is an act because "boys like dumb girls" kinda thing. It's fun writing flawed characters.

28.) Everyone showed up for lunch, which was nice. Lanny, despite last week, seemed to be in much better spirits. I sat and ate my donut in mostly silence. Hannah watched us both curiously, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I played with my sister’s feet under the table as I talked to the others, but Hayden seemed mostly focused on the donut. Well, that was until Hannah looked at him strangely and then reached across the table and pulled his hoodie across to better cover his left shoulder. What was that all about?! I felt a blush on my cheeks and smiled appreciatively at the girl across from me. She rolled her eyes and went back to the conversation between Oliver and Lanny. I had filled her in on all the nuances of the three-way dating joke and they were really working with the material in front of Mimi. She was frustrated, though. Mimi frowned and crossed her arms, then looked across at Hayden. "Maybe you should be a part of this, too? I mean, it's already a perversion on the sanctity of relationships!" "How so?" "Boys can't date boys!" "I'm not dating Ollie. We're both dating Hannah." "I like it. This could totes work." "I think guys can date guys." It was the first real contribution to the conversation I'd made all day, and only because, even aside from Lanny and I, it was a position I strongly supported. Mimi looked at me with a frown and I smiled. "Any other view is a little... outdated, don't you think?" Even Oliver, who was a little homophobic, didn't dare get in the way of it. "If all the boys date boys, who will be left for the girls?" As always, Mimi's views were always steeped in the simplest origins - and were usually harmless, unlike other people. "Some boys are really cute together. Like say, kissing each other on a park bench, or being promiscuous in the backseat of a friend’s car." I blushed and bit my lip and Hayden did the same, through Mimi seemed oblivious. "Boys can't have sex, Hannah. They don't have vaginas. Gosh." "Wow you're dumb..." "I'm not dumb!" "Oh god, you weren't kidding either..." "Ollie, be nice." "I'm gonna head to class," I said with a smile, hugging my sister around the back, since she was still sitting. It was something new, and something I hadn't intrinsically meant to do, but slip ups had been happening since we'd first started this girl thing. Hannah looked up a little awkwardly and I felt my cheeks blush. "Anyway, see you." When Hannah caught up with Hayden in class, she sat down next to him and slipped a note across the table that read simply: "You're wearing a bra. And girl jeans." There was no question mark, either, no hint that she was unsure - just two very simple sentences that made their respective statements clear. I sighed and pulled the pen out from my school bag, writing down on the note and passing it back. "Yes." The reply was short. "Why?" "It makes Lanny happy. She wants to start incorporating this stuff a bit more into everyday life." "Are you going to start coming to school as girls? Have girl names? I don't know about that Hayden." She looked anxious as she passed the paper back and tapped her pencil on the table, looking up at the clock. So much was changing and she didn't know if she could keep up. "I don't know. Lanny's just Lanny though. And I'm still Hayden. So I guess you shouldn't worry about that." I passed the note back and sighed. This was really getting to be too much. I added at the bottom of the page: "I wouldn't worry too much." I still hadn't agreed, after all… "And what about you two together? Have you talked about it at all? What you both did on Thursday night?" She passed it back and sighed, adjusting the boy’s hoodie for him again with the subtle motion of her hand - what an amateur, it's like he'd never worn a bra before! "I think we're dating. I kind of agreed to it. Or blurted it out. Or something. I don't know..." I sighed and zipped the jacket up half-way so it would stop doing that. Bras were so stupid... "Anyway, I'm trying to keep it on the DL if you don't mind." "You two are dating?!" She emphasized that word on the paper before continuing. "Okay that's really really hot. I'm happy for you both! Ollie is going to flip though, you know how he is..." She crossed that out, though, just the last part - she didn't want to spoil it, and then handed the note back. It wasn't like her handwriting was hard to read, even with the scratches through it. "I know. I haven't told him. I probably won't. This is all too stressful, too sudden, you know? I like that it's between us... but if you want to tell him or whatever, you can. Boyfriend rules and all." "Are you going to go further? Than you did on Thursday? Further than Third base?" She was grinning when she wrote down the words and passed the note back, completely skipping away from the topic of her fairly closed-minded boyfriend. "Dunno. I mean. Maybe. Isn't that weird? I mean, she's kind of my sister or whatever..." I wondered about the girl pronouns, but figured it was probably best left said. "Anyway, I think it'll be fine. She moves at my pace anyway." Which was slow. Very slow. "Well if you do want to you can talk to me if you want - I know a bit about that stuff." Of course Hannah knew about anal sex; she spent most of her waking spare time online after all. She'd even convinced Oliver to try it with her before, but he freaked out when she asked him to pretend she was Benedict Cumberbatch and he was Tim Hiddleston. "Yeah? I mean, I'm not really too put off by the sex thing as much as the with my sister thing. I don't know. It's still super weird. But God, Hannah... it's Lanny, and she's..." I smiled to myself, my cheeks a little red. "She's beautiful." Hannah concurred. She didn't like the female pronoun bit, but she'd work with it for her little incest fantasy. She continued to write out quickly: "There's nothing wrong with it, and you've already been to third base. Think about how great that was because going all the way is so much better. I mean, you know that. But think about it with Lanny. You two are so close, right?" "Right." Right. I wasn't sure what I was so worried about. Maybe because it was my first time... I shook my head and passed the paper back. The notes were a lot shorter the rest of the class period and I spent a lot of my time trying not to think too much about sex. After class, Hannah went her own way and I met my sister at the edge of the building. I was leaning against the wall and I'd pulled my hair into pigtails - a harmless little gesture - and smiled at Hayden when she walked outside and looked at me. "Hi you. How was class?" "Fine," I said with a little worried smile. Her hair was in pigtails, which was, admittedly, pretty cute. But she could easily be mistaken as me, and considering our personalities, likely would. I felt my cheeks turn pink. "Um... your hair..." "Oh, just something I was messing with when I was waiting for you. Want me to take it out? Or do yours the same? We're just going back to our dorm." The question had a lot of weight to it, really - if she said she wanted the same it confirmed her commitment, but if she said she wanted me to take mine out it meant she was having doubts. "I..." I bit my lip and looked down at my feet. Not so many people knew us here anyway, right? And the way back to our dorms was mostly side-streets... "Alright... I mean... sure... if you can..." But Lanny was already hard at work putting up my hair. In a few short minutes I'd done my sisters hair to match my own and I smiled and looked at her happily. "Gosh you're beautiful." I took her hand after that. It was odd for me to do so, but I wanted it to be a part of our new dynamic and it felt right to me. It was a lot more difficult pretending to be Lanny when she was a very bubbly girl and I was perpetually blushing. I did my best not to think about it, but it was certainly hard. I wondered if Alex would have noticed the differences in us if we were still boys. We made our way to the dorms, my hand in hers, and nobody really looked twice. And I mean, they might have thought they were drunk and seeing double if they did anyway. We got to the building and went inside. I decided very much that I liked holding hands. "You were so good to me today, sis. I want to reward you..." "Reward me?" I looked up at my sister as she pulled me into the house. I felt strange with my hair in pigtails, but there really wasn't much to be done. I mean, it wasn't strange in a bad way, but strange in an abnormal way. I sat down on the couch while Lanny left the room. Weird girl… This morning I'd conjured a pretty girl in Hayden’s imagination, dressed all juvenile, a pretty sun-dress and bloomers with a diaper underneath. I had no doubt that she remembered the imagery, and when I emerged ten minutes later dressed as close to that as possible - complete with a pacifier dangling from one of Hayden’s outfits and very shy pink cheeks - I could see that she couldn't stop staring. Oh... wow. I bit my lip and looked away from my very attractive sister. I tried to remember the boy who bossed me around when we were seven, but I just couldn't see that now. He was just so pretty... "You look really nice, Lanny... like, really nice." I beamed happy and wandered over to my sister, sitting down on her lap and making the diaper very apparent in doing so. Compliments were nice, but I wanted my sister to want to ravish me - wanted for her to lose control and just pin me down to the sofa. I bit hard on my lip and ran my fingers up Lanny's side, along the bloomers that I'd bought years ago. How I'd kept all this stuff from my brother for so long was beyond me. She really was beautiful now, and the way the diaper crinkled... "You're so cute, Lanny. Really..." I bit my lip and smiled coyly, squirming a little. "I'm all yours, Hayden… your lil' diaper girl..." I really didn't know what to expect - I guess in my head I thought about my sister and wanting her to pin me to the wall and make me her little bitch... but this was Hayden. She'd never be so assertive. I leaned up and kissed my sister in a way I typically kissed, very gentle, very serene. It matched her outfit quite well. Within a minute we were both lying on the sofa and my lips lavishing hers. I let my fingers play with the fabric of her outfit - my outfit - and listened to the gentle crinkling of the diaper. I didn't really get the appeal of the diapers; the cuteness was definitely there, but there was more to it for my sister. Even the sound of the crinkling seemed to work for her (a fact I could feel through her jeans). I bit my lip and smiled coyly, looking up at her. "Am I... cute? Do you 'fink...?" The childish talk was new to me, and I felt a little silly. "Uhhuh... the most beautiful girl in the world..." I bit my lip and ran my fingers up her thigh. I'd never done anything like this, even when I pretended to be Lanny. It just wasn't very elegant, from my point of view. Maybe that's why Lanny had sex and I didn't. I shivered a little bit and smiled, looking up at my sister with a coy little smile as she looked down at me with a definite look of lust. Lust for me. I liked that. I kept up my cutesy act and smiled, biting my lip as she ran her hand up my thigh. "I... is my first time... you be gentle, 'wight?" I felt a little worry creep into the wrinkles on my face and I bit my lip, looking down at Lanny with a weak smile. She wasn't thinking... it was just part of the scene... "I really... um... want to take things slow, if that's okay..." Until I figured out what I wanted, really. And until I figured out what Alex meant… "Uhhuh..." I smiled, making it look exceedingly grateful, and leaned up and kissed my sister’s lips. "Maybe you wan'... touch my deedee?" My cheeks flushed and I looked away, quickly shaking my head. "I mean you dun' gotta if you dun' wanna!" I was getting good at this silly little voice thing. Gosh her voice was just... well, it was something. I wondered if I could sound like that. Wouldn't I have to if we were twins? We had to replicate each other perfectly! I put my hand against the crotch of her romper, my fingers moving just enough to hear the crinkling of the diaper and notice the arousal of my sister underneath. The diapers themselves weren't a big turn on for me, but being underneath my sister was more important. The situation was a turn on, and her hand touching me even through the thick layers of padding was too. I bit my lip and let out the cutest little sigh and whimper and blushed a bit more, looking up at Hayden. "Mmm... sis..." I knew it was stupid. I mean, I had the perfect girlfriend, someone willing to dress the way she was dressed. But my stomach felt weird and I made myself sit up. Lanny looked at me curiously and I gave her a little smile. God, what was I doing?! "Um... I don't know why I did that. I'm sorry..." I leaned in to kiss her again. Idiot... I smiled coyly and crawled up onto my sister, pushing her onto her back with a little smile before sitting my crinkling bottom down on her jeans and squirming a little bit. "Is otay..." I smiled and looked down into her eyes, naively grinding a little more. Maybe the innocent childish thing wasn't working for her? "I don't know what's with me. I think I'm just bent out of shape. Today was weird, and I was pretty anxious all day because of the bra thing... Hannah noticed, you know. I wonder how many other people did..." I sighed and did my best to smile. "I'm so sorry I'm taking this out on you. You look beautiful." "Hannah isn't here. Nobody is here but us. You and me, and you think I'm beautiful so don't think about anything else. Think about every fantasy you have about having a cute girlfriend in a diaper who loves you very much..." I leaned forward and put my hands on my sister’s chest, the palms of my hands resting on the slightly padded cups of her bra. "I know, Lanny, I do..." I did my best to smile. She was so beautiful. God, even now, when I was acting like a butt, she was still wonderful and beautiful. So why did I feel like my stomach was in knots? "I think something's wrong with me or something. Every fantasy, and..." And I still act like such a little coward. Did I really need drugs to be sexual or something? Fucking messed up... I leaned down and kissed my sister’s lips softly, slowly, and sensually. She looked up at me as I did and I played with her hair. "You think so much, Hayden… you're always up in your head and if you jus' came down here every now and then... you'd see how beautiful life is." Another kiss came down on her lips and I smiled as pretty as I could manage. "I love you... and I want to be with you, and we share everything... so share this with me... share your desire. Share that lust in your eyes..." We kissed for a while longer. I tried to listen, to stop staying in my head. But when you're spending like, 95% of your time kissing and touching and not at all talking, how are you supposed to stay out of your head? In the end, I couldn’t do it. I wanted to, so badly. I wanted everything to fall into place. I wanted it to be convenient. But it wasn’t. Everything Alex said kept rushing through my head. I loved her. So why was this so hard? I wound up laying down on the sofa with my sister, cuddled into her arms. She wasn't feeling it and that was fine - we'd try again another time. For now we'd cuddle, and later on tonight we'd talk about the girl stuff and try to come up with a resolution. "I do love you, Hayden…" She knew that though. She did. "I want you to know that we're going to work this out... we’ll figure it out together. Whatever it takes… we’ll figure it out together." But what if ‘together’ was the problem? What if the solution was to figure it out apart? Would I really do whatever it takes? --------------- Thank you for reading! Like, Comment, and check us out on Patreon!