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minachan16

Baby Banker 2016
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About minachan16

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    Sweetie Pie Extraordinaire
  • Birthday 01/17/1987

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    Snuggled in daddy's arms
  • Real Age
    30

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    Adult Baby
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    Girl
  • Age Play Age
    2-3

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  1. Using stories for wish fulfillment

    Absolutely. Truth be told, a lot of the ABDL stuff I write has a wish fulfillment aspect to them in one way or another. I feel it's just natural that I want to see stuff play out the way I wish it could in real life, especially with this side of myself. I do my best though to keep in mind my obligation to readers to still tell a good story and not let my writing become too self-indulgent.
  2. Lost a Facebook Friend today

    Sorry to hear your friend is so thin-skinned. I'm excited for the movie, not for the movie itself, but for the youtube reviews that will follow. PureFlix has been a consistent stream of amazing review material for the last few years
  3. My Husband is an AB/DL

    This made me really sad to read. You are clearly going above-and-beyond in your role as a daddy, but it's clear you have a limit to how long you can perform in that role. Him expecting you to play daddy 24/7 is unrealistic to the level that he wants. Even if you feel you can handle it given your daycare experience, do you really want taking care of your fully-able husband to be your full-time job? But the most worrying thing about this is that he's not bending and turning a conversation about how he was in the wrong into how bad he feels about the situation. That along with threatening to leave you whenever you disagree... I really hate to say this, but this is abuse, and you shouldn't tolerate it. A marriage is not the same as a parent-child relationship, and he has to grow up and realize this. I wouldn't blame you at all if you decided to leave at some point in the future. You didn't marry him for this, and him pushing this on you is not healthy behavior. Honestly, I do hope you two manage to work it out, but it's clear to me that you have to sit him down, tell him how you feel, and not let him twist it around into making it about him being the victim. He needs to realize he's hurting you and be willing to work with you so that your connection both in marriage and as baby and daddy is stronger. Otherwise, it's just going to get worse. Best wishes.
  4. For ABDL diapers, I predict the diaper bubble is going to burst. All these boutique ABDL diaper brands are going to go the way of the dodo (so stock up while you can). I predict it will be down to 2-3 brands in a few years: probably ABU, Rearz, and Tykables in North America, though I predict Tykables will focus more on clothing than diapers and differentiate themselves in that respect. Can't speak international, but I do think the market will grow in Japan. As kids of the aughts come of age, the demand for cloth-backed diapers will rise, and will have equal footing in the market to accommodate them as well as the lovers of the plastic-backed. As far as baby diapers, well we're already seeing the effects with Kimberly-Clark scaling back production on their Huggies brand because raising a family isn't something on the mind of millennials. That will continue into 2020 with Pampers likely scaling back as well, but Luvs likely will not as it as seen as a cost-friendly alternative to the two and lower-income couples are still having kids. I 100% disagree with gender-specific diapers returning, especially in blue and pink. Millennials are NOT having that. I would also bet as allergies continue to rise, scented baby products will continue to be scaled back. Most, if not all, baby products will likely be fragrance-free within the next 10 years. ... sorry, I hope this doesn't depress anyone. This is just honestly where I feel the ABDL and baby diaper markets are heading respectively.
  5. So ABU is taking Tykables to court

    I'm siding with ABU here. Tykables has already skirted legal trouble before with how close it plays the names of it's products off of other brands (they were Snuggies before Kimberly-Clark told them to stop or face their lawyers), and this is very much in that mindset of "it's not EXACTLY the same as your brand so it's okay". My first reaction is "why Space Cadet? why couldn't you do something with 'astro' or 'galaxy' or some other word or prefix that belies the concept of space? You could have just called them 'Lil' Cadets' or something else and you would have been fine". Tykables needs to fire the person coming up with their product names because they're not worth the legal trouble.
  6. Fictional character you'd want to baby you?

    Every since I saw the third season of the Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha series, I've always wanted Nanoha and Fate to play mommy to me.
  7. Because of Morgan

    Because of Morgan An ABDL Novella by Mina Taylor Chapter 1 My bedroom was silent, save for the buzzing of the light bulb above and the sucking of my pink butterfly pacifier. Gone was the blasé yellow flower comforter Mom had bought me when I moved back in after college, replaced with a far more appropriate slick pink Disney Princess cover, topped with my rosy pink baby blanket with my name stitched into it, encircled with a white lace heart. My stuffed bunny, Abba, rest comfortably in my arms while I stretched and smiled at the crinkle of the diaper around my waist. All my books had been taken down and put into storage. My hope chest had been covered with a plastic mat with bottles of baby powder and oil at the foot, with a large pack of diapers and an even larger box of scented baby wipes. I smiled as I snuggled into my bed, covered by the weight of the two blankets and turned on the TV to something suitable for a little girl of my age. I smiled as I saw my parent’s cable subscription included Noggin. To think there was ever a time where there wasn’t a channel dedicated to programming for toddlers! I giggled as I pulled my paci out and reached over to my dresser, where a fresh bottle of apple juice was waiting for me. Eagerly, I thrust the rubber nipple into my mouth and nursed thirstily as I babbled back at Dora the answers to the questions she was asking me. I was so excited to help her and Boots go on an adventure! I was even more excited when I felt a warm pressure at my bladder. Relaxing as best I could, fighting twenty years of potty training to the utmost, I managed to get a few drops into my waiting diaper before I was finally able to force the floodgates wide open. Agu! I thought to myself, imaging myself to be almost two years old, getting better at speaking but still resorting to baby talk. Mommy, daddy, pee pee! Holly uhoh! Changie me! I grinned and blushed around my bottle, nearly reaching adult baby nirvana, when I heard the first creak. The bottle popped out of my mouth as I sat up in bed. The panic set in when I heard the door upstairs close. My heart pounded like a jackhammer against my chest as I scrambled out of bed, tearing off the comforter and my baby blanket and stuffing it into the cardboard box at the foot of the bed where I had been hiding them. My parents had been gone for almost two hours on their way to Kansas City, and knowing my dad, he would not have forgotten anything. Even if he had, he would just buy what he forgot when they arrived. I gasped as I put the half-empty bottle of juice and the pacifier on top and twisted my body around, searching for my sweatpants. “Holly?” I heard my sister Morgan calling from upstairs, the sound of her feet pacing casually across the kitchen floor, right above my basement bedroom. “I saw your car outside. Are you home?” Crap! I recalled, remembering how I forgot to put my car in the garage after Mom and Dad left, too excited to think of anything else other than my 72-hour getaway of being a baby again. Morgan wasn’t supposed to know I was still here, and Morgan wasn’t supposed to be here. She was going to Wisconsin Dells with her boyfriend. They were supposed to have left tonight. Don’t tell me… “I’m here,” I managed to call out, having more than 75% of the incriminating evidence put away. “What happened to your weekend with Travis?” “Travis got stuck working. One of his co-workers had appendicitis and they needed him to come in this weekend, so we decided to reschedule.” Shit. “So…” I panted, shoving all my diapering supplies into the hope chest and pushing the large box of wipes, too big for the inside, into the closet. “You’re staying here this weekend?” “I don’t know,” she answered, honestly to my annoyance. I pulled both ponytail holders I had used to put my medium brunette hair up into pigtails out of my hair, letting it down as I struggled to find a clean shirt. “Are you downstairs?” I heard the basement door open as my heart leapt higher than I had felt it leap before. “Don’t come down!” I shouted in a panic. Immediately, I realized anything else would have been better to say, but Morgan’s curiosity was piqued, and that meant bad things for me. “Why?” she asked as I heard her feet coming down the stairs. I panicked, looking for the Febreeze to cover up any babyish smells that may have already filled my room to no avail. Quickly, I came out of my room, turned on the light in the main den just outside and went to greet my sister. “I was just on my way up,” I tried to explain. “Okay,” she answered, but didn’t sound like she believed me. My little sister Morgan was far more perceptive than my parents and I needed to get her out of the house as soon as possible. I had been waiting for a month for this. With everyone gone, I was finally going to be able to indulge in my little self, and here was Morgan, as always, ready to completely ruin my plans. It wasn’t that I hated Morgan. She was my sister after all, but I couldn’t help but think of all the times my life would be easier if she wasn’t my sister. Only being two years younger than me, there was such a little gap in our ages that the whole “big sister, little sister” thing never happened and we weren’t twins. It was awkward. I was into nerdy things like cartoons and fantasy books, and she was into the things most girls liked. We never shared clothes or makeup, never liked the same boys… she had well-kept honey blonde hair and flawless skin, and I don’t even want to talk about her boobs… It goes to say Morgan was my sister in name only, but name only was all Morgan needed to make my life miserable. I never tried to compare myself to her, but she always made sure to let me know when she did something better than me or when she did something before me. I always took it in stride, congratulating her on her various achievements despite how much I wanted to scream and tell her what I really thought of her arrogant attitude over me, and I could only imagine the things she would say if she found me in a diaper of all things tonight. I could not, I would not let that happen. As I made it to the top of the stairs, Morgan was getting a Diet Coke from the fridge. Of course, she didn’t ask me if I wanted one. I sat down in one of the tall chairs at the granite kitchen island as my sister took a seat at the table, grabbing the remote and turning on MTV. “So what are your plans tonight?” she asked. I resisted the urge to strangle her then and there for interrupting them, but held back. It was a blessing she didn’t know. “Just hanging around the house?” “Yeah,” I replied, not feeling any need to follow up. “Callie said she’s going to the movies, so I think I’ll go too,” she announced. I kept myself in check, careful not to celebrate just yet, but my urge to get her out of the house could not be contained. “Going soon then?” I asked, hoping for a yes. “In about an hour,” she replied, hunched over the table. “I’m going to watch Teen Mom first.” Oh god no, I thought as I searched for one of Mom’s tabloid magazines on the island. I already couldn’t stand MTV, but a show about young moms taking care of their babies would drive me up the wall tonight as I stewed in my sodden diaper, becoming colder by the second. The number of worries I had just continued to pile up as Morgan sat there without a care in the world. “You watch this show, Holly?” Morgan asked. “Oh wait, it’s not a cartoon so probably not.” “I’ve seen it,” I lied. “Once or twice.” “Really?” Morgan became curious. “Since when do you watch MTV?” “It makes for good background noise when I’m reading,” I admitted. That wasn’t a lie. Stupid television shows really did make it easy to focus on whatever book I was reading. “Oh,” Morgan replied, sounding disappointed. Of course she would be. It was just one more thing that made us as different as night and day. I kept quiet, focusing on reading trashy celebrity gossip as Morgan watched her show intently and I did my best not to pay attention. The growing irritation of my diaper was taking up most of my focus anyway. I was doing pretty good, holding my focus and bearing with the growing cold and irritation of my wet diaper until about fifteen minutes before Morgan was getting ready to leave. She got up from the table to put her coke can in the recycling bin outside, stopping just inches from me. I looked at her as she paused and turned to me, quizzically. Her nostrils flared as my eyes got wide. “What is that?” she said aloud. “Do you smell that?” “Smell what?” I played dumb. It was all I could do as I prayed my face was not flushing red at that very moment. “It smells like a diaper,” she said. Her voice carried a welcome sense of disbelief. I laughed, remembering my sister’s job at the daycare down the street she had been working at while going for her education degree. “Maybe you’ve just smelled so many dirty diapers, the smell is ingrained in your nose.” “Oh god,” Morgan hit me, not too hard but hard enough. “Don’t even joke about that. You have no idea what it’s like.” You wanna bet? I thought with a little smirk as she made her way outside with the empty soda can. She walked back inside, smelling my wet diaper again, but choosing to ignore it. I sighed a little bit as she went over to the couch to finish her show. With relief, she got up to get ready to meet her friend at the movies as soon as it was over. Making sure she had her keys, I played the dutiful big sister. “Do you have everything you need?” I asked as she looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she answered with a bit of a snap. “I’m not like you, always forgetting something.” I smirked again. No fights tonight. Just have to get her out of the house and back to my downstairs paradise. I wasn’t about to blow this now, not when I was so close to being alone again, just me and my infantile thoughts. “Have a good time,” I managed to call out as she went out the front door. Morgan didn’t respond as she closed the door. She didn’t need to respond though. Her absence was the sweetest music to my ears. My diaper was already beginning to itch as I headed back downstairs to my room, pulling out all my supplies and redressing the hope chest. Dropping my sweatpants and taking off my shirt, letting my small breasts out. For a moment, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to calm down as I spread the plastic mat over the chest. Grabbing my paci from the cardboard box I stored it in, I popped it in my mouth, nursing rhythmically on it as I lay down and spread my legs, reaching on each side to untape my crinkling wet diaper decorated with teddy bears and balloons. As the cool air rushed into my smothered nether regions, I whimpered as I pulled the front of the diaper forward, allowing my bare privates to embrace the refreshing open space. I closed my eyes, imagining someone that I could exactly see, but whose presence comforted me. I couldn’t decide if it was a man or a woman, mommy or daddy, picking up my legs as I lifted them myself. I strained down beneath me, opening the first of the many soft plastic packs of baby wipes I had bought as I pulled out the first one. Ceremoniously, I draped the tip of it over my nose and took in its scent. I can’t remember a day in my life where the sight, the smell, or even the thought of baby wipes did not put my brain on lockdown. It’s an obsession that I’ve lived for as long as I can remember living, but I’ve never been able to figure out why. It would have made my life a lot easier if I didn’t. Taking in that intoxicatingly powerful and fresh scent made my whole body tingle, like inhaling a drug. It was because of those moist scented little cloths that I was this way, that I became an adult baby, and that I craved to be diapered and bottle-fed and put in a crib. It was a fate I had resigned myself to many years ago after fighting against it for so long. In fact, tonight was the first night I was fully indulging in these desires, acting like I was less than two for the first time since I was less than two. I giggled a little to myself around my pacifier, nursing happily as I dropped the baby wipe over my face so it was all I could smell. Reaching down with a trembling hand beneath me, I grabbed another wipe and began to gently rub it on my left nipple, then my right, trailing it down my tummy and under my love handles, which made me squirm and twitch with pleasure with its feather-soft touch. “Holly, I…” The wipe fluttered down from my face over my vagina as I sat up on the hope chest, twisting my head at the bedroom door so quickly I’m surprised I didn’t break my neck in the process. My eyes widened, unable to blink as my mouth hung just slightly open, looking over at the door, and seeing Morgan standing at the entrance to my room in full sight of my infantile self. Chapter 2 It’s true what they say, that the things you fear happening the most will happen at the very moment you least suspect them to happen. I expected Mom would walk in on me one night with a pacifier in my mouth, or might find my diapers while I was out looking for a job. This was not on my list of predictions. This wasn’t even something I had ever considered happening, and it was for this very reason that when my eyes met Morgan’s that my mind froze up as I sat there, naked and smelling like a baby, unable to move, unable to scream. It didn’t seem I was alone in the matter either. Morgan too was standing in the doorway, standing perfectly still. Her eyes were widened and her brow bent, looking as though she was struggling to comprehend what she had just walked in on, if she should say anything, or if she should just leave. “I…” Morgan spoke, stopping, as if she was having trouble remembering how to speak. “I just… I’m low on money for gas, and was wondering… I wanted to ask…” It seemed as she found her capacity to speak, she always found her capacity to move. Quickly, she took a step back, and then another. I realized she was going to leave. My own brain kicked into gear at that time, and the first thing it told me was she can’t leave. I didn’t even think of the consequences of my actions as I got up off the hope chest as Morgan broke into a full run towards the staircase back to the main floor and out of the house. Naked as the day I was born, I charged out of my room after her, latching on firmly to the staircase handle as I used my momentum to catapult myself around and up the staircase, launching myself at Morgan and grabbing her legs with desperate hands. We both fell face-first onto the carpeted steps, the sound of us falling making such a loud booming sound I thought people well outside the house may have heard it. Morgan immediately began to kick at my face. “Let me go!” she screamed over and over again. “Get away from me!” “I can’t!” I cried, half from the pain of being kicked and half from the terror that had finally surfaced in the realization that I had been caught. “I won’t! You can’t go! I won’t let you!” I threw my body around her legs, dragging her back down the stairs as she clawed at the stairs and walls. By this point, and rightfully so, Morgan was really scared. Maybe if I had been calmer about things, things would have gone better, but I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was what my instincts were telling me and make sure she didn’t tell anyone. I got on top of her, holding her down as she kicked and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Get off me, you freak! Help! Someone help!” My hands tightened around her wrists as I looked down on her, screaming in horror at the actions I had taken. I couldn’t imagine what was going on in her mind. I was too afraid of what I was seeing in my mind if I let her go. It became too much for me, to see my sister like this at my hands and to feel the way I did from her finding me indulging in my adult baby state, I finally snapped and broke down. She kneed me in the stomach as I feel over on top of her, crying loudly with big ugly tears gushing from the corners of my eyes, leaving scalding trails down my cheeks. I moaned and wailed as I reached out to her in futility, realizing I couldn’t silence my sister and that I wouldn’t be able to stop her from telling anyone she pleased. I curled up in a ball, assuming my short life, as I knew it, was done and over. Morgan gathered herself, visibly shaken as she hurried for the staircase. “Please!” I wailed in desperation. “You can’t! You can’t tell anyone! You might as well kill me!” “Is that what you were going to do to me?” she screeched back. I winced from the sound and the sting of her words. “I’m sorry,” I bawled. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry… I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do,” I choked out through my sobs and stilted breathing. “I was scared. I was terrified. If anyone found out, I was dead. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I just…” Morgan paused halfway up the staircase, neither taking a step back down or a step towards the ground floor. She simply looked down on my, eyes narrowed, judging me, condemning me. “You just what?” she asked in a demanding tone, so calm and collected it shook me deeply. “You just what, Holly?” “I can’t help it,” I tried to find the words to explain, words I had no intention of saying to anyone ever face to face, surfacing through my blubbering as I looked up at Morgan with swollen, puffy eyes. “I can’t… I’ve always been like this. I’ve always wanted this, for as long as I can remember. I would have given anything to stop, to forget wanting this, but I wasn’t strong enough on my own, and I couldn’t tell anyone. I was too scared. I still am.” “And that makes you think you can…” Morgan tried to respond, her voice lording over me, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand to hear her self-righteous holier-than-thou tone for one more second. “It doesn’t!” I screamed. “But it’s all I have and I can’t let you take it from me! I’m nine months out of college and I have no job! I had to move in with Mom and Dad! I have no boyfriend! I have to borrow money from Mom and Dad to go anywhere and do anything! I have no life! This is all I have, Morgan! This is the only thing I have left that makes me happy and you were going to take it from me, like you always do!” “I don’t always…” she tried to go on in the same tone. Again, I silenced her with my own voice, louder and more demanding as I banged on the basement floor in my vulnerable state. “You do! You always do!” I shouted, my tears dripping onto the carpet. “You always tell me about how much better off you are than me! About how you’re working to be ready for a job when you’re done with college! About how I was stupid to get a liberal arts degree! About how you have a boyfriend! About how you have more money, and a nicer car, and your own apartment! About all your friends! About your perfect fucking life! Well, this is it, Morgan! This is the best thing in my life! This is what I am now… so go ahead… now that you know, go ahead - make sure everyone knows that you are better than me in every single way… it’s what you’ve always wanted.” My face was cherry red, my heart pulsing harder than ever, snot dripping from my nose and the tears still coming. I could feel my body giving out as I collapsed on the floor in a pile of despair as Morgan went back up the stairs. Curling my knees to my chest, I wished to wake up, to find it was all a dream, crying until I woke up, only to find that when I closed my eyes, that’s when the real nightmare began. I looked down on myself, exposed, diapered with a comically large baby big around my neck with the words “Little Stinker” typed onto it, sucking on a pacifier that I could seem to reach to take out of my mouth. I was on a chain, unable to see who was leading me as I passed all my family and friends who stared at me in mixed reactions ranging from unbelieving laughter to shock and horror. As I was walked along by the chain, I found myself messing the diaper, seeing stench lines spread out to my captive audience, signaling for them to demean and disown me of my humanity and Morgan, front and center, smiling with satisfaction. “Holly,” I heard her speak as the nightmare began to warp and distort, falling into black. “Holly… Holly…” “Holly,” I heard to voice clearer as I felt the light poke of a finger digging into the back of my shoulder. “Holly, wake up.” I groaned as I rolled over, looking through blurry, crusted eyes as Morgan quickly stepped back, as if she had been waking a sleeping lion. “Hm? What?” “Get dressed and come upstairs,” she said, retreating up the staircase. “We need to talk.” A deep, dark feeling sank in my chest. My arms trembled as I struggled to push myself off the carpet. Stumbling to my bedroom, following the pale yellow light through the darkness, I managed to find my sweatpants and the same clean shirt I had worn earlier this evening. Slipping into them, I made my way up the stairs, feeling as though I was climbing the steps of an hangman’s platform towards a waiting noose. I squeezed my eyes shut as I made my way to the top, looking past the kitchen at the clock to see what time it was. My eyes and my body still hurt, but I was able to squint enough that I could see it was only 10:30. Morgan was leaving at 9:00, which meant only an hour, 90 minutes at most, had passed. Did she not go to the movie? Had she been here the whole time? “Over here,” she called out to me from the living room, sitting in a dark green upholstered chair. She pointed towards the dark brown couch near her, ushering me to take a seat. I did as I was told, having calmed down and realizing my fate now lied in my younger sister’s hands. Morgan sat on the chair, wrenching her hands, tensing as I approached her and took a seat. I didn’t blame her. I felt terrible for how I reacted and I knew there was no way I could ever fully apologize for what I did. Morgan sat there for a few minutes, struggling to say something. I thought of opening my mouth, but I had already said everything I wanted and needed to say already. “What exactly did I walk in on down there?” she began, spitting it out forcibly, as if it was something she needed to get out there at any cost. I retracted at the question. Did she not see what I had been doing? All the paraphernalia I was surrounded by? How could she have thought of anything else? “You saw,” I answered. “You already know.” “I want to hear it from you, word for word, exactly what I saw.” “I can’t…” the words fell out before I could stop them, coming out of pure reaction before Morgan interrupted me loudly. “Holly, tell me now, or I will tell Mom and Dad.” My heart leapt, only for a moment, at the possibility that Morgan hadn’t told anyone yet, but knowing there were conditions to that possibility tugged at my chest painfully. For as nervous as I had been at making sure no one found out, the fact Morgan knew made things even harder. I had to say something. “I was changing my diaper, sucking on my pacifier, and touching myself with baby wipes.” Morgan paused for a moment, having to comprehend exactly what I had just said. “Why were you wearing a diaper?” “Because…” I winced with fresh tears ready to burst. “Because I’m an adult baby. I’m an adult who likes to act like a baby. It makes me feel happy. You were supposed to be gone this weekend and I was already in a diaper when you got here. I didn’t expect you to be here, or anyone for that matter. It was just supposed to be me. No one was supposed to see.” “And you’re embarrassed by this?” “What the hell do you think?” I cried, rising off the couch before I was stopped with a simple utterance of my name. “Holly!” Morgan shouted in a loud, commanding voice, as if she were my own mother. “You won’t talk to me like that again. Answer the question.” “Yes,” I said in a very small voice. “I’ve always been embarrassed by it. It’s who I am and I can’t let anyone know. I can’t imagine what they would say or do. I don’t want to.” “What do you think now that I know?” “I don’t know what to think,” I answered, trying to keep as calm as possible and failing. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, interrogating me like this. I don’t care if you do or don’t understand. You never even loved me, you never even tried, so what do you care now? Just go. I don’t even care anymore.” I was waiting for Morgan to answer with some haughty remark about how much it means to me now that she knows, but she remained silent for a long time, staring down at her hands rather than me. My eyes remained fixated on her, waiting for her to bite back like always. As the minutes passed, Morgan did finally react, standing up, ending our brief conversation. I was prepared for her to leave and let me stew in anticipation for the end of my normal life, but I jumped as she took my hand and pulled me upright off the couch. “Come on,” she asked, devoid of any real emotion. “We’re going downstairs.” “For what?” I fought back, pulling my hand away. “So you can humiliate me more? So you can lord over me how much better you are than me?” “Do you want to be a baby this weekend or not?” Did I… did she just ask me what I think she asked me? No, no that couldn’t have happened. My mind raced as I felt my hand taken by Morgan as I was led in my stupor back down into the basement back into my bedroom. Morgan let go of my hand and looked around the room, her arms crossed over her abdomen. “Show me everything,” she commanded sharply. “Like what?” I asked, not understand the command. “Everything,” she repeated again, enunciating the word pointedly. “All the baby things you bought for this weekend for you. I want to see all of it.” “Why do I have to…?” “Holly, you are in no place to talk back to me right now,” Morgan responded, again with the voice that was not condescending but rather authoritative, talking to me as though I was a child… or more like… “Holly, I don’t have all day.” Like a baby. I looked at Morgan, grimacing and seeking mercy only to find none from her stern gaze. I couldn’t risk her telling anyone so I did as I was told, taking out everything until I had a sizeable pile of various infant accessories spread across the bedroom floor; my Disney Princess bed sheet set, my baby blanket, a white plastic changing mat, a full pack of Bambinos minus the one I had used tonight, a box full of several packs of scented baby wipes, lavender-scented baby powder, baby lotion, baby oil, baby bath, baby shampoo, bath toys, teething rings, a rattle, building blocks, a pink bib that read “I’m An Angel”, a mint green baby bottle, and my treasured butterfly-shaped pacifier. Morgan looked upon my collection, her hazel eyes widening with a sense of being impressed and surprised. “That’s everything?” “That’s everything,” I sighed, collapsing behind my decent-sized pile of shame. “Okay, that should be enough,” Morgan said, picking up the plastic changing mat and carrying it into the main room of the basement, laying it on the black leather ottoman next to the couch. “Come on, over here.” “What are you going to do with that?” I asked, following her into the main room. She patted the mat twice, looking in my direction. The signal was not lost on me, but the command wasn’t one I was going to follow. “Are you kidding me?” “Get over here, Holly. Don’t make me ask you again.” “You’re not serious,” I stated clearly. “You can’t be serious.” “Holly Elizabeth Decker,” she spoke to me in a manner that made me know that without any room for second-guessing exactly what she wanted me to do. “Lay down over here right now or I won’t be the only person who knows about what you’ve been doing with the money Mom and Dad have been giving you each month.” Oh dear God, my mind screamed as I took slow, tentative steps in Morgan’s direction. She waited for me patiently as I made my way over to her. She looked at me as I stood in front of her, fully clothed, with a look of disbelief. I gasped in realization but Morgan was faster, taking full responsibility for my undressing, urging me to lie down naked on the cold plastic mat as she went back to my bedroom, coming back with powder and a clean diaper. “So here’s what’s going to happen. How much did Mom and Dad give you this month?” Morgan asked, looking at me and expecting a quick reply. “Three hundred,” I responded, to which Morgan had to keep from laughing. The idea that my unemployed self, who didn’t have to pay rent or for food, who spent most days looking for a job, would need so much money was ridiculous to her. “I want two hundred.” “You’re blackmailing me?” I sat up quickly, but found myself quickly pushed back down as she diligently lifted my legs by my ankles and put the diaper underneath me. “That’s my money!” “Babies don’t need money,” she explained as she unscrewed the cap on the powder bottle and applied the snowy dust liberally to my bottom. “And babies don’t take care of themselves. If I don’t watch you, who knows what you’ll end up doing without anyone to stop you. Until Sunday when Mom and Dad get back, you are going to do everything I tell you to do and you’re not going to give me any lip. If you don’t do as you’re told, you’ll be punished. If you keep it up, then I will tell everyone about what you’ve been doing in secret with your parents’ money. As long as you do as you’re told, no one will know about tonight except you and me. Are we understood?” “What if…?” “We aren’t negotiating any of this. You attacked me. That’s illegal and I have the right to go to the cops. I know you didn’t mean it but I’m still within my rights, and unless you agree, that’s what I’m going to do,” Morgan stated clearly as she taped me snug into my new diaper, clean and dry and smelling of baby powder. “Are we understood?” I paused, unsure if I should say yes or no, knowing the consequences of each wasn’t weighing heavily in my favor either way. “Can I ask why?” “Because you’re my sister,” Morgan answered, pursing her lips anxiously. “And because no matter what you think about me, I don’t hate you and I wouldn’t try to hurt you. So, yes or no?” I looked at my sister anxiously, unsure if I could really trust her after everything I knew about the twenty years I had spent with her on this earth, but if she was telling the truth, if she was really going to look out for me, I had to take that chance over the alternative. I nodded softly as she took my hand with a small smirk, maybe even half a smile, as she led me back to my room and had me lay down on my bed, tucking me tight into my Disney Princess bed sheets and covering me with my baby blanket. “It’s past your bedtime,” Morgan told me teasingly. “Sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned off the light and I winced, remembering I had forgotten my teddy bear nightlight. I didn’t have the heart to ask her to get it out of its hiding place in my dresser drawer. As darkness fell around me, I fell into a restless sleep. It seemed I was going to get my weekend of being a baby after all, but I was going to be treated like one as well. Chapter 3 It feels like it’s been an eternity since I last saw the sun. Having laid in bed all night spending equal times awake and asleep, I began to doubt the sun was ever going to rise again. Sure enough, a wave of indigo light surfaced from the darkness, yielding to a morning I had begun to doubt was coming. I squirmed beneath my covers, feeling the soft, cushiony material of my diaper bunch up around my thighs, urging me to remember the events of last night. I threw my baby blanket over my head, trying to blot out the steadily rising sun and push away the reality the morning would bring. Maybe she left, I curled up tightly on the bed, fearing the worst. Maybe she just said all those things so she would have a chance to leave. I wouldn’t blame her. It was in this thinking that I was startled by the sounds of footsteps above me in the kitchen. Morgan was still here, and from the sounds of pans being taken out and her pacing the kitchen, it sounded like she was busy making breakfast. I held the blanket tighter over my head. I didn’t want to believe that my sister could ever care about me, when she had never shown any sign of caring about me up until now. Why was she really doing this? Blackmail? Pity? My mind raced to find Morgan’s ulterior motive for agreeing to “babysit” me for the weekend as I heard her footsteps echoing down the basement staircase. Within moments, she was at my door. I closed my eyes, wanting her to think I was and had been asleep all night long. Lifting the blanket from over my head, I made sure to remain perfectly still, budging only when she gently nudged me with her hand. “Good morning, Holly,” she welcomed me back to the waking world with an active smile, or at least that’s what I think I saw. I may have still been dreaming. “Up and at’em, sleepyhead.” I grumbled and grabbed the blanket over my head. “No,” I fought back. “Five more minutes.” “We have a busy day, Holly,” Morgan announced, no change at all in her pleasant morning tone. “We can’t have you sleeping all day. Rise and shine.” I held tight to my baby blanket, so Morgan grabbed my bed sheets and ripped them off with one strong fluid motion. I whimpered, curling up and finding what salvation I could in my blankie while Morgan sat on the bed, shaking me again by the shoulder. “Holly, don’t be difficult,” Morgan sighed, grabbing me from under the shoulder and pulling me into an upright position. “Now get up, I need to check your diaper.” “It’s dry,” I yawned, standing up. This did not deter Morgan at all as she grabbed the front of my diaper and pulled it back with the waist of my sweatpants and looked inside. I blushed, taken aback by the complete lack of privacy I had as Morgan did the same in the back, letting go of the waist of my diaper and pants with a muffled snap. “So you are,” she concluded, patting me on the butt. “Good girl staying dry all night. Now let’s go upstairs for breakfast.” Morgan did not miss a beat as she corralled me towards the staircase. Her tone, her body language, and her choice of words… she really was treating me as if I were actually a baby. It conflicted me the way she was treating me; part of me wanted to tell her to stop, but another part of me, the part of me I wanted to embrace this weekend, was compliant and willful to do as her babysitter told her. Morgan remained pleasant in the face of my compliance as she took my hand and helped me up the stairs. I tried to take them at my normal pace, but Morgan held tightly to my hand. As I moved, I nearly pulled her back down again, but this time Morgan was ready, hand firmly planted on the railing. She looked at me with playful exasperation. “Now, Holly, if you run, you might fall. Hold my hand and we’ll go up the stairs together.” I smiled a little, doing as I was told as Morgan called out “left foot, right foot” over and over as we walked up the staircase, hand in hand. The sound of my diaper crinkling echoed up and down the narrow staircase with every step I took, serving as a constant reminder of my place, but Morgan’s hand, holding mine gently, guiding me until we reached the ground floor and the kitchen somehow managed to put me at ease and make me feel okay. It was like the Morgan I knew had become someone completely different overnight. “Sit down and I’ll get you a plate,” she told me as I dutifully obeyed, sitting down at the head of the table near the patio door. I looked to my right into the living room, seeing Strawberry Shortcake on the TV. I looked at Morgan, completely disinterested with the cartoon, before I turned back in active interest. As the show moved into commercials, Morgan brought me a small plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of milk in one of my old sippy cups. I guessed that somehow it must have managed to stay in the cupboard all these years, but my attention was quickly drawn to the utensil she had got for me. “Does Holly want to feed herself like a big girl or let Miss Morgan feed her?” Morgan asked me, pinching a small white spoon with an airplane-shaped handle. Its age showed in the fading color of the red, yellow, and blue windows on the plane, but the sight made me twinge with nostalgia. It was already too much to see Morgan found the relic of my infancy, but to be fed with it was too much for me. “I’ll feed myself,” I replied softly, taking the spoon and examining it, hardly believing it was real. First, Morgan found the sippy cup and now the airplane fork. How many other reminders of my toddler years did my parents keep? Pinching the small utensil between my thumb and forefinger, I dipped the spoon into the fluffy white eggs. Morgan watched intently and couldn’t help but comment. “My, someone knows how to hold her spoon like a big girl too! Are you really a baby, Holly, or are you just pretending?” I looked at my sister, reading the knowing look in her eyes and her sly smile. She was testing me. I could tell she intended to treat me like a baby to the fullest, but did she really intend for me to act like a baby to the fullest? I added these questions to the already sizeable pile in the back of my head about her motivations, doubting I would get any answers anytime soon. I hesitated with the spoon, pinched between my fingers, gulping as I looked at Morgan with uncertainty. Widening her eyes a little, she motioned with her gaze towards my breakfast, but I felt too self-conscious to eat like this, placing the spoon down on the table, Morgan reached out. “Well, if Holly doesn’t want to do it herself, Miss Morgan can make sure…” “No,” I said with a small but defiant voice, like a toddler asserting her independence to be a big kid, even though she really wasn’t. “I can do it.” Morgan watched intently as I reached down again, this time grasping the airplane spoon with my whole hand, scooping up eggs like a shovel. I avoided Morgan’s stare as I leaned in close to scoop each little bit of eggs into my mouth. “Good girl,” she said encouragingly. “I’m going to go clean up so you be good and don’t make a mess. I want to see a clean plate, little missy.” I blushed at her term for me, reassuring me of my role as I continued to eat. Not that Morgan was a terrible cook, but the eggs tasted a bit overdone. I tried to solve the problem with my sippy cup, of which I did not have nearly the same problems drinking as I did with eating with the airplane spoon. It was similar to my baby bottle, but the milk eventually ran out, leaving me with just the dry eggs. I got up to go to the refrigerator to get some ketchup, only to stop at the sound of another scolding. “Excuse me,” Morgan’s voice rang out loud and clear for me to hear. “Did you need something, Holly?” “I was just getting some ketchup,” I tried to explain as Morgan walked over in my direction, taking my hand and leading me away from the refrigerator. “Hey, what gives?” “The refrigerator’s off limits,” Morgan explained, helping me back into my chair. Once I was properly seated and pushed in for good measure, Morgan went to the refrigerator and came back with the ketchup. “I can do that myself,” I asserted myself as she opened the cap on the ketchup bottle. “Really?” she asked, feigning surprise. “None of the two-year-olds I work with can handle squirting their own ketchup without making a mess.” “I’m not two,” I replied, to which Morgan looked at me, smirking as she squirted the sweet red sauce over my eggs, not even letting me do it myself. “Yes,” she corrected me, putting the cap back on the ketchup bottle. “Yes you are, Holly. Now hurry up and finish your breakfast while I finish cleaning up.” Morgan’s words stuck with me as I returned to my breakfast. I really was going to get the full toddler experience. Once again, I attempted to navigate the airplane spoon, only to get more and more frustrated with just the tiny pieces I could get into my mouth. Fed up, I got closer to my plate, sloppily shoveling my breakfast into my mouth as Morgan cleaned up the pans and counters. “Holly!” she called out to me halfway through my meal. “What did I tell you?” Realizing how close I was too my breakfast, I pulled away to see I had spilled a good portion of eggs on the table and my face was covered with bits of egg and smears of ketchup. Hands on her hips, Morgan looked at me with fake surprise, as if she had expected this to happen. “You hold still while I get your bib. No more messes!” I sat perfectly still where I was, feeling very small from my scolding as Morgan went downstairs and came up with my bib and a pack of baby wipes. Without dropping a beat, she pulled and tied the loose pink strings until the velvety fabric of the bib came up around my neck, knotting them with a big bow. “I knew you weren’t a big girl, Holly, but that’s okay. We’re gonna make sure you eat all your yummy eggs and then we’ll clean you up, okay?” I couldn’t even respond as Morgan hurriedly dipped the airplane spoon into my breakfast and pulled out a bite, holding it out towards my mouth. “Open wide,” she asked of me, circling the airplane around my mouth. “The airplane’s coming in for a landing.” I hesitated, but Morgan continued to prompt me until I finally opened my mouth and she landed the airplane in the hanger. The force of having the spoon put inside my mouth by someone else was both uncomfortable and humiliating. The first bite did not go as planned, as I spit it out when Morgan pulled the spoon out before I even had a moment to react. “Holly, be good,” she warned me. “No more messes. Eat your breakfast.” Having a better idea of what was coming did not make it any more comfortable, but I was able to react faster, taking in the food before Morgan could pull the spoon out. It became like a rhythm after a while. In goes the spoon, close my mouth, eat, out goes the spoon, chew, in goes the spoon, close my mouth, eat, out goes the spoon… As soon as I finally felt comfortable with the rhythm, Morgan suddenly put the spoon down and began clapping her hands happily. I clapped my hands too, though I wasn’t sure why we were clapping. “Yay, you did it!” Morgan cheered. “Clean plate! Good girl, Holly! Now let’s get that icky face clean too.” I looked at my plate to see it really was clean, before Morgan fetched a baby wipe from the pack and smothered my face with it. Despite how good it smelled and was making my face smell, the pressure of Morgan’s hand scrubbing my cheeks and mouth clean made me squirm and wince as I struggled in my chair. “I know, I know, but we’re almost done,” Morgan said, wiping daintily at the corners of my lips. “There we go, what a pretty clean baby you are!” I spit a little bit, the soapy taste of wipes on my lips as Morgan pulled out my chair and helped me up, whether I needed the help or not. She faked grunting as she helped me stand up. “Oof, you’re heavy. How much did you eat, Holly?” “Morgan,” I finally sighed out loud. “You don’t have to go this far. I don’t need…” “Miss Morgan,” Morgan corrected me, putting a finger on my lips. “And yes, I do need to go this far. This is what we agreed on, right? You’re a little two-year-old who still wears diapers and needs to be looked after, and I’m the one looking after you. That means doing as you are told and addressing me with respect, the same I would ask of any of the other toddlers I look after. Now, come on, we need to get you dressed so we can run errands.” “Errands?” I repeated, pulling away from her. “Oh no, no no no, that’s not happening. I am not going out like this and you can’t make me.” Morgan put her hands on her hips, speaking to me as if she were trying to reason with a small child. “Holly, I can’t leave you here by yourself. Are you going to be a good girl and come downstairs with Miss Morgan to get dressed or are you going to throw a fit?” “I’m not going!” I stomped my foot on the floor so hard it made the plates on the table rattle. I stared Morgan down, daring her to do something. If she wanted to treat me like I was two, I would act like I was two. What I didn’t anticipate was Morgan’s reaction. She was willing to punish me like I was two. “Holly, do you need a time out?” Morgan said in a low, threatening voice. “But you just said you had errands,” I argued. “You don’t have time to put me in time out and get your errands done.” “No, I’ll have time,” Morgan affirmed, staring me down with a knowing gaze. “What I won’t have time for is finding you clean clothes that hide your diaper bulge, so you’ll just have to wear whatever I find, whether people can see you’re wearing a diaper underneath or not. Now then, Miss Sassy Pants, I’ll ask you one more time, are you going to be a good girl and come with Miss Morgan or are we going to have to put you in time out?” I couldn’t tell if Morgan was just playing the role of the caretaker, if she was enjoying her place of power over me, or both. I felt so small in front of her as I shrank back, looking down at my toes, afraid to look Morgan in the eye. “Well, missy,” Morgan pushed me to answer. “What’s it going to be?” I fiddled with my hands behind my back, turning my ahead away and answering in a very soft and small voice; “…’ll gu.” “What was that?” “I’ll go,” I said, wincing and ready to cry. “I’ll go. I’ll be a good girl. Just make sure no one can see my… my…” “Your diaper?” Morgan emphasized, making me blush in embarrassment. I could only nod as I took her hand as she led me back downstairs in the same careful motions she had walked me up the stairs before. Still holding my hand, she took me into my room and began to look through my dresser and my closet. “Let’s see, let’s see,” she said allowed as she dug through my clothes. Everything was too tight, so Morgan took out a pair of purple jogging pants. “How about this and a loose T-shirt?” Morgan offered “Are you kidding?” I stifled a laugh. “I’ll look so dumpy.” “Would you rather advertise your pampered butt wherever I need to go?” Morgan raised an eye towards me. I blushed, looking away again. “T-shirt’s fine…” “That’s what I thought,” Morgan acknowledged, walking over to me with the shirt, white with purple and blue flowers spackled across the front, placing it and the sweatpants on my bed. “Arms up.” I obeyed, lifting my arms as Morgan pulled my shirt off over my head, then went for my pants, pulling them down in one sharp motion. “Step out,” she commanded as I stepped back out of the leg holes, careful not to trip. “Good girl,” Morgan praised me as she held the sweatpants down on the ground. “Okay, now step in. Come on, you can do it!” Blushing from ear to ear over Morgan’s incessant high-pitched encouragement, I did as I was told as Morgan wriggled up the jogging pants until they were square over my butt. I looked behind me, feeling tentatively. The diaper crinkled to my horror. “Morgan, I don’t want to do this!” I whined. “Holly, I’m not going to keep doing this with you,” Morgan tapped her foot impatiently on the carpet. “Did you or did you not tell me last night that you were an adult baby?” “Morgan,” I whined. “I don’t want to do this.” “Did you or did you not, Holly?” I looked down at the floor again. Morgan really had that power over me. “I did.” “Mmhmm,” Morgan agreed. “And if you’re a baby, and I’m your babysitter, is it not my job to make sure you’re taken care of?” “Yes…” “And would Mom and Dad be pleased to know their little baby Holly didn’t do as her babysitter told her?” “You wouldn’t.” “I told you I would,” Morgan reminded her, holding the T-shirt up. “Now arms up, Holly. It’s time to go shopping.” I whimpered as I lifted my arms up, Morgan once again praising me with her loud, high-pitched voice meant to further enforce that I was and would be treated like a two-year-old in every single aspect this weekend. Morgan was already proving she would go farther with this than I myself intended. I was scared as we walked back up the staircase, hand in hand, and went out to the garage to Morgan’s SUV. I opened the passenger door, only to hear a loud “ah ah ah” from my domineering sister. “Only big girls sit up front,” Morgan stated. “Into the back, young lady.” As I got in, Morgan even came around to make sure my seatbelt was buckled properly, before making sure my hands and feet were clear of the door prior to closing it. I squirmed in my seat as Morgan got in the driver’s side door, buckling up and opening the garage door. As she turned the ignition and began backing out, I looked behind me out the rear window towards the road and wherever it would take me this morning, for better or for worse. Chapter 4 I didn’t know where we were going, and I doubted Morgan would tell me. It didn’t matter anyway. Being out in public was being out in public no matter where we were going. I cringed at the thought of anyone hearing my diaper, looking in my direction and suspecting I was wearing something other than proper underwear underneath these jogging pants. I stared out the window as Morgan focused on the road, looking at the outside world, in which every person I looked at seemed to be a threat to my privacy. I wanted to so desperately lunge from the backseat and grab the wheel from her, and force her to take me home, but I had learned my lesson about acting on impulse out of fear. I had to sit here and fear the worst. Looking up at Morgan in the rearview mirror, seemingly undeterred, baffled me. If I was caught, she did realize she’d be with me, right? Not that I could understand my sister before, but I really didn’t understand her now. The passing blur of trees and houses as Morgan crossed town began to feel like a constant and I wondered if I was having a nightmare, or maybe the car had crashed and this was hell; waiting to be taken and embarrassed and having to live with that unsettling feeling for all eternity. “Holly, what’s wrong?” Morgan finally asked, as if she had absolutely no clue how I was feeling or what I was thinking about. “Are you still upset I wouldn’t let you stay home?” “I’m upset you took me anywhere in a diaper!” I cried, pouting and crossing my hands over my chest. “If anyone finds out, I’ll never forgive you!” “I told you, as long as you do as I say, no one’s going to find out,” she reminded me. Her tone was far more pleasant and understanding than it had been when she was getting me ready. “Do you think I’m lying?” “Maybe,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t have any reason to trust her and she wasn’t giving me one. “How about I put on some music,” she offered, pressing the black dial on the car radio. “Would you like that?” I didn’t respond, and so Morgan chose the most grating auto-tuned white-girl-pretending-to-be-black EDM hip-hop song I’ve ever heard. I made it about fifteen seconds before I put my hands over my ears, shouting “turn it off!” “No way,” Morgan smiled, nodding her head up and down to the beat. “This is a great song!” “No, it’s not!” I cried, throwing my hands against the back of the rear seats. “Turn it off, Morgan! I hate this song!” “It’s almost over,” Morgan’s voice turned back into a scolding one as she eyed me severely from the rearview mirror. “And don’t you dare beat up on my car, missy, or you won’t like what happens.” I didn’t care. I was at Morgan’s whim, wearing a diaper, being taken out in public, and now I had to listen to her shitty music on top of everything else? I wasn’t going to take this. “Turn it off!” I screeched, pulling my knees back and kicking the empty front passenger seat hard. My feet banged against the leather seat, making a banging sound that caused Morgan to slam on the brakes hard. My seatbelt held me back, digging into my chest as I flew forward and flew back towards the sounds of angry horns and curses flung in our direction as she pulled over slowly to the side of the road. As she violently jammed the transmission shift into park, she clutched the headrest of the front passenger seat and spiraled around to face me, eyes wide and blazing with disdain for my actions. I could see she wanted to hurt me, be it physically or emotionally, and I was ready for it. I winced, my body tensing and bracing for my punishment. Morgan pointed a sharp finger at me, shaking and waving it at me, poking me in the chest as she pointed each and every word that spit out of her mouth towards me. “Don’t you ever kick my car again! You are on thin ice this morning, and if you don’t shape up immediately, I will consider our deal broken and everyone will know about little baby Holly! Do you want that?” “But you weren’t…” “Do you want that, Holly?” I cringed. Nobody had scolded me like this in years. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being caught in a diaper. I was already acting like a two-year-old just fine on my own. I found a tiny voice of compliance inside and whispered “no”. “This is your final warning. If you disobey me one more time, it’s over. Do you understand?” “Yes…” I whimpered, ready to cry from how horrible I felt being yelled at. “Yes what?” “Yes…” I repeated, thinking back to Morgan’s words from this morning. “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “I hope so,” Morgan replied, in a voice so eerily familiar that the nostalgia of being scolded by our mother crawled over me. Morgan did not belabor the point, instead putting the car back into gear and merging back into traffic. As I watched her from the rearview mirror, I could hardly imagine that I was really her older sister. I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t act like it. I really was in no position to claim as such. I was sure Morgan felt the same, if she hadn’t before now. After a little while of silence, Morgan turned the radio back on, but instead of staying on the Top 40 station, she moved to the oldies station. “If we put on something you like, will you be good at the salon?” So that’s where we’re going, I thought, never having it occur to me that Morgan would tell me. I nodded from the backseat where Morgan could see me as she turned up the music. I smiled a bit as I heard the synthesized tones as the next song started up. I had a feeling Morgan would too. I smiled a little as she began to sing along, very softly, as Irene Cara’s wonderful voice broke forth: First, when there’s nothing, but a slow glowing dream That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind I smiled, remembering I was the first one who introduced Morgan to this song when I did it for my dance recital when I was eight. I knew the words by heart to this day, and sang along too, a little louder, a little happier: All alone I have cried silent tears full of pride In a world made of steel, made of stone We both began bobbing our heads as the beat kicked in, singing the rest in harmony as Morgan drove to the salon on the other side of town. The feelings of fear and concern seemed to disappear in a flash. All I could think about was having fun with Morgan and singing with her. Maybe I was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe Morgan wasn’t worried because there was no need to be worried… and if only it was that easy. I wish I could have gotten over my fear of being in public like this when Morgan pulled into the strip mall parking lot, but as the 80s pop music and the comfort of going somewhere but not being there disappeared, the fear set in. Morgan unbuckled her seatbelt, coming around to my side and opening the door. “Come on,” she beckoned me, reaching over and unbuckling my seatbelt. “This won’t take that long. I just want to get my nails done.” I’d never been to this place before so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Paying for a mani-pedi wasn’t something I was accustomed to, as I could just do it myself as needed for much less, but it seemed Morgan knew the lady at the reception desk as they exchanged pleasantries and hugged, before Morgan was led back into the building. “Go ahead and take a seat,” Morgan called after me. “It won’t be long.” I sighed, sitting down carefully in one of the three empty plastic chairs in the waiting area, careful not to make as many little crinkling sounds as I could manage. The receptionist didn’t seem to care about my careful positioning of myself as I settled in and grabbed a fashion magazine, beginning to flip through it. I laughed a little. Morgan was right, and I would bet money she was going to make me say it when we got out of this place. After a few minutes had passed, the receptionist, who I thought was minding her own business, actually decided to address me. “You know, we’re not that busy today,” she spoke, twirling in a pen in between her fingers. “Did you want something done too?” “Sorry,” I blurted out, before I looked around and realized I already had one. “I forgot my purse.” The receptionist sighed and sat back down as I felt the mesh pockets of my pants and realized I actually wasn’t carrying anything on me. My phone, my wallet, my purse, the contents of my entire social life were all back at the house, and I had the feeling that wasn’t an accident. After fumbling through all the magazines and some of the style books, Morgan finally emerged, showing off her daintily sculpted fingertips, shining a smooth and pretty shade of periwinkle blue. “What do you think?” “Great,” I managed, not one to gush over things like painted fingernails. “Are we going now?” “As soon as I pay, silly,” Morgan smiled, turning to pay her receptionist friend as I stood up, waiting impatiently by the door. The two seemed to begin a new conversation as I tapped my foot impatiently, but impatience was soon overrun by a new sensation as I felt a cramp in my abdomen, my hand instinctively moving to the aching spot and holding it, as a new fear washed over me – one I had not prepared for nor was I in any way able to handle. The receptionist noticed this, looking over Morgan at me. “Hun, are you okay?” “Yeah,” I managed, waving the cramp off. “It’s just my time of the month.” “Gotcha,” she said, looking me up and down, as if she was thinking that explained why I looked so dumpy and seemed so sullen. Actually, that was a good excuse. I decided I’d use that if anyone asked. Morgan was smarter than her though. She knew my period was at least a week away, but she didn’t say anything as we left the salon and got back in the car. “Where to now?” I asked anxiously as the cramp subsided, though I feared for how long it would hold. “A few other places,” Morgan said nonchalantly. “There’s no need to hurry, is there?” She knew, she had to know, but I wasn’t about to let her call my hand. “No,” I lied through my teeth as my eyes sank to my tummy. “No, I just want to get home is all.” “We’ll be home soon enough,” Morgan addressed me with her nice tone, smiling and putting her hand on my knee from the driver’s seat. “You did very well in there. If you keep it up, maybe we’ll get something special for lunch.” I smiled, appreciative that I did good and that things went much smoother than I expected, but I could care about lunch right now. There was a much more pressing matter on my mind, and I wasn’t even sure how or when I could bring it up. Morgan started the car and pulled out, circling the car around the east side of town up to the bank. Every bump and dip shook my stomach, only serving to make me even more worried as the drive once again seemed like it was never going to end. The cramps returned by the time we got to the bank. Once again, Morgan came around to my side after getting out, opening my door and unbuckling me as she took my hand and helped me out of the car. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the salon,” she noticed. “Is something the matter?” I was positive she was teasing me now, but I grimaced, ignoring her with a little “nothing” as we went inside so she could deposit some paychecks. I squirmed a little, trying to find anything to take my mind off the cramps, which had come back with twice the intensity in a place where there was no way I could say anything. Looking around, I spotted a little woven basket filled with lollipops - the safety kind that came on a ring. I spotted a grape one and reached for it, looking at the teller. “Um, is it okay if I take one?” “Sorry,” she said, pulling the basket away from my hand a little. “Those are for the kids.” “Oh,” I sighed as I squirmed a little, hoping my cramps would pass once again and give me time to get home. The unbelievable irony of it all… “Angie,” Morgan addressed the teller. “She’s got low blood sugar. It’s just a sucker. Can’t she have one?” “You should have just said so,” Angie said, pushing the basket back towards me. “Take one. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” That’s a good one, I thought as I took one of the grape ones with a gracious smile. You have no idea how much I’m hurting right now as it is, lady. “Holly?” Morgan stopped me before I could get the safety pop in my mouth to have something to take my mind off the growing, cramping urges. “What do we say?” “Oh,” I gasped, blushing a little bit as I turned to face the teller. “Um, thank you.” “You’re welcome,” the teller replied, a little surprised as she turned to Morgan, trying to whisper but doing a terrible job of it. “She seems a little off.” “She’s just having a rough day,” Morgan replied as she walked away towards the exit. “See you later.” I stood there, a little bit in shock to see my sister defend me publicly. I couldn’t remember the last time she had done something like that. With the lollipop securely around my ring finger, I watched her walk off with the grape flavor seeping onto my tongue before she turned around and waved to me. “Are you coming, Holly?” I jumped a little, removed from my shock as I chased after Morgan as we left the bank. “What do we say?” Morgan asked as she buckled me into the back seat. “Thank you, Miss Morgan,” I said with a smile. Morgan rewarded me a smile in return as she closed the door, asking I watch my fingers and toes as was becoming the norm as she walked around to the driver’s side. Oh my god, I thought as we pulled out of the bank, looking up at Morgan with awe. I really was worrying over nothing. The last stop was the grocery store, which was fortunately a quick trip to get some things Morgan wanted for snacks and some food for me, because – as she so eloquently put it – she needed to get food I’d be able to eat. So things like spaghetti, oatmeal and applesauce were added to my immediate diet. I hadn’t had any problems until we got back in the car as the cramps came on full force, so bad that I had no choice but to grab my tummy with both hands and wince. It was coming down to the wire. “So,” Morgan announced as she started the car up again. “I was thinking, you’ve been such a good girl everywhere we went this morning, how about we go get some McDonald’s to bring home?” “I can’t eat pizza, but I can eat McDonald’s?” I groaned, as the cramps hit again. “It’s a treat,” Morgan looked at me quizzically. “What’s the matter? Does something hurt?” “It’s nothing,” I squeaked out, knowing damn well that was the last time I was going to be able to say it. I couldn’t even do so convincingly anymore. “Holly, what’s going on,” Morgan curled herself around the front seat towards me. “Are you okay? Does your tummy hurt?” “Morgan,” I begged, near tears. “Don’t make me say it.” Morgan looked at me for a moment, her eyes seemingly searching for the meaning behind my eyes, before widening in surprise with a great big “oh”. “Oh, Holly, no honey, don’t do that,” she begged me, pulling my hands away. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Just let it out.” My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull from the oncoming cramp and the serious amount of shock I had over Morgan’s words. She did not seriously just say that. No, I had to have heard her wrong, way wrong, because my sister did not seriously just insinuate that she… “I’ll change you when we get home,” Morgan responded. “This what you have your diapers for, right?” Oh my god, this was actually happening. I choked on my tongue, struggling to find words that would fit, let alone would make sense. “You… I… no, I… Morgan, are you serious? You can’t be serious. You’d really have me…” Morgan looked at me with a face that let me know she was neither surprised nor horrified by the situation. “What part of “two-year-old in every aspect” wasn’t clear? You’re wearing diapers because you’re two, Holly, so of course I expect you’ll use them.” “But… but this is… this is serious,” I gasped on the final word, the cramps so strong that a little bit fell onto the soft padding beneath my bottom. “Morgan, it’s your funeral if you let me do this.” Morgan audibly laughed at this as she turned back and began to drive off towards the McDonald’s on the other side of the grocery store. “Holly, anything you do won’t even crack my top ten worst changes.’ Perhaps, my sister had lost her mind as much as I had, but it didn’t matter any longer. My mouth parted in a whispered gasp as my bottom expanded and a rush of soft doughy mess caked itself all over the back of my diaper. The sudden release of pressure also set my bladder off, coloring the front of my diaper as equally as the back. I panted as we pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru as we got in line. Morgan looked over at me, putting the car in park for a moment as she leaned back and put her hand on my knee. “Did you make a stinky?” she comforted me as I sat in my well-confined mess. I couldn’t tell if she was actively consoling me or humiliating me, but her words rang of sweet truth. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you? Yeah, it’s not good to hold in your tummy when you have to potty.” She turned back around as she pulled the car forward, still going on with her comforting words. “Just sit tight and we’ll get you all cleaned up when we get home, then we’ll have a yummy lunch and then we’ll take a nice nap. Okay, baby girl?” Maybe it was because I was tired, exhausted even, from the effort of holding it in and letting it all out, but the rush of euphoria from the release was undeniable. I looked at Morgan from the back and smiled, sucking on my safety pop. I really was a baby girl. "Okays, Miss Morgan," I babbled, sucking on my lollipop as we waited in line to order. Chapter 5 Whatever the wine-red Highlander in front of us was ordering, it must have been enough to feed a small army. We had been sitting in the drive-thru for nearly fifteen minutes and Morgan, being the stubborn person she was, did not see any reason why she couldn’t park the car and go inside to order, though I was sure she could smell one. It didn’t take long after I had filled my diaper for her car to begin to fill with the earthy stench that could only be a full diaper. In addition to the smell, the mess I was sitting on was already beginning to cool, making me squirm. I began to let out little grumbles and whimpers as I wriggled in my seat. Morgan, trying to be patient, reached back and put her hand on my knee again. “Stay still,” she asked of me in as patient a tone she could manage, knowing I was trying to bear with the wait just as much as her. “It’s just a little while longer.” “But I don’t like it,” I whined, kicking my feet a little, but nowhere near like I did earlier that morning. My feet this time didn’t even make contact with the seat in front of me. “Miss Morgan, I wanna go home.” “We’ll be home before you know it,” she tried to comfort me, though I knew she had as much control over the people in front of us as I did. “Just bear with it. It’s not like this is the first time you messed yourself, right?” My cheeks turned red as I looked down in my lap, trying to avoid Morgan’s eyes on me from the rearview mirror. “It is…” I pouted as I squirmed a little more. “Hey, hey, what did I say?” Morgan grabbed my knee to stop me. “If you squirm and leak on the seats, you’re going to be in trouble, missy. Just sit tight and I’ll change you first thing when we get home, okay?” My only saving grace as the smell of my diaper began to wash over the car’s interior was the knowledge that Morgan probably hated it as much as I did. Mercifully, the Highlander pulled forward and we were able to place our order to the person on the other end. Morgan didn’t even bother to ask me what I want. She already knew what baby Holly would want and wasted no time. “Okay, I’ll have two grilled snack wraps with ranch and a small lemonade, and a happy meal with chicken nuggets, fries, a Sprite, and a girls’ toy. That’ll be it.” “Nuggets!” I clapped from the back in a higher-pitched voice. I must have surprised Morgan as she hunched her shoulders up, stifling a laugh as she pulled forward. “Where did you learn to make your voice sound like that?” she asked, not only surprised, but also seemingly impressed. “I thought you were a real toddler for a moment.” “Practice,” I said, a little embarrassed but a little proud of myself at the same time. I was doing my best not to let the smelly mess beneath me bother me too much, though I couldn’t say I would be able to keep it up much longer. Having never messed myself before, I was unsure how long it would take for diaper rash to set in. When I wet, I would change after fifteen minutes, thirty at most, but a number two felt like it was a whole different ballgame, and every minute I feared I was contributing to what could be a very big problem for the rest of the weekend. We pulled forward behind that damn Highlander again, watching as seven bags made their way into the SUV before they pulled away. Morgan handily paid the cashier and took our drinks and food, doing everything she could to make the process as quick as possible for the other people piling up behind us. Once we had everything, we took off. “What ‘bout barbeque sauce?” I complained. Morgan had to remember we never ate chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce. “Did you get da barbeque sauce?” “We have sauce at home,” Morgan eased my worry. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let a little nugget-eater like you go without it.” I couldn’t remember off the top of my head if we did have any, but knowing my family and how much we loved the stuff, Morgan was probably right. The only disappointment though would be in not getting to dip my nuggets in the little plastic cups McDonald’s gave out and digging for every last drop for my nuggets and fries. Morgan raced us home, driving faster than she had the rest of the morning. She practically jettisoned out of the driver side door as we made it home, parked in the garage and closed the garage door. I followed her with my head as she dashed around the front and opened my door, hurriedly unbuckling me and taking firm hold of my hand as she helped me out, getting me inside in a hurry and taking me downstairs to the basement. “Oh man, Holly, what did you eat last night?” Morgan asked as she went to the basement bathroom and grabbed a spare towel, laying it on the carpet, and then laying my changing mat on the towel. She forewent changing me on the ottoman, not wanting to risk my poo getting on the furniture. “You made a really big stinky, didn’t you?” I sucked on my lollipop, playing coy to the atrocity that I had deposited in the back of my Bambinos as she reached up and grabbed my hand, urging me to lay down with my messy diapered rear firmly on the plastic mat while she went to my bedroom for all the supplies, coming back with powder, oil, and a fresh pack of wipes. “What about the ones upstairs?” I said, noticing she was opening a new pack. “You have plenty,” she remarked, kneeling down in front of me, reaching out and taking hold of the legs of my pants, wriggling them off of me as the smell of my diaper became even stronger. “And you bought the cheap ones, so I know I’m going to need a lot.” I blushed as I sucked on my lollipop as Morgan examined the damage, looking unsure where to start. I knew she had gotten in over her head when she told me to mess myself and know she knew too. Morgan, though, wasn’t about to swallow her pride. With her freshly painted periwinkle fingernails, she picked at the tabs of my diaper, peeling each tape off with a loud resounding ripping sound. I nursed on the paper ring itself around my finger, glistening with grape lollipop residue as she pulled off the last tape. Carefully, she pulled back the front, just enough that she could see the full extent of what I had done before closing the front back over me. “Oh, Holly!” she exclaimed loudly. “What a messy baby you are!” My heart twinged a little bit as she pulled it back again carefully, the shock of my mess beginning to slowly subside as the soaked front landing on the changing mat with a dull plop. Morgan looked at my exposed self, tilting her head as if wondering where she should begin. I felt so vulnerable in front of Morgan, but I was surprised that my heart was racing not in fear, but anticipation. For all intents and purposes, I was about to have my diaper changed for the first time in twenty years, and it was going to be a doozy. “Baby Holly made a big messy,” she commented as she began to withdraw wipe after wipe and place them in a little pile on her knee for easy use. She had withdrawn at least twenty wipes before she was ready to tackle the mess, using two at a time to make sure to keep her own hands free of poo. I squeaked a little bit as she grabbed my legs from their spread position and clasped them together, using her forearm to shove them into an upright position. “Holly, will you be a good girl and help Miss Morgan by holding your legs for me?” The lollipop was all gone now so I felt no remorse in pulling my hand away from my mouth, reaching at my ankles and holding them as tightly as I could. Morgan kept her forearm anchored against the back of them just in case I let go, but me holding them took some extra weight off of her, which I was sure she appreciated. “Whew! Such a big stinky!” she made a big commotion as I felt the first wave of wipes run down my bottom, picking up big swathes of muddy mess and dishing them into the diaper, often disposing of the wipes she used immediately and going back for fresh ones. I could only imagine what my diaper looked like, and I would be lying if I didn’t have a screwed-up curiosity to see my first fully used diaper as an adult baby, especially if the clean-up was really that bad. Of course, I had no intention of making things any harder for Morgan, who seemed to be running through the baby wipes quite readily, having almost emptied the pack by the time it felt my bottom felt fresh and squeaky clean. Finally, Morgan pulled the diaper and the veritable mountain of mess and used wipes atop it away from my bottom as I felt the cool slick sensation of the changing mat. Morgan rolled up the diaper and placed it at the corner of the towel while she laid me back down and spread my legs, rubbing my privates with more baby wipes to clean up the pee mess. “This would go a lot smoother if you had bought the Huggies kind,” she commented. “They’re thicker and they smell better, like cucumber.” I hated the Huggies wipes exactly for that last reason. If they made thicker wipes that smelled as great as these ones, of course we wouldn’t be having this problem. “These ones smell the best,” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away. Morgan stopped rubbing, smiling as she dropped the wipe on the mat between my legs and kneeled up over me with a knowing smile. “Oh, I get it now,” she smiled deviously, going back to the pack of wipes and pulling out a few more, wiping beyond my vagina and up under my potbelly and on it. “Holly likes to smell like a baby.” Though her words left me speechless, the burning sensation in my cheeks as they turned bright red let her know she had hit the mark. I whimpered a little bit as she ran the wipes up and down my belly and sides and legs and feet. I was getting turned on, but not in a sexual way. Morgan was triggering a regression in me, spoiling me and giving me my most infantile of desires. Eventually, my whimpering became a loud, childish “Agu!” as my thumb found my mouth and I squirmed on the changing mat, feeling warmth and comfort radiating and insulating me from every direction. Morgan’s pampering stopped as I looked up at her, her face of surprise bringing my adult self back. I blushed deeply with embarrassment, squeezing my eyes and trying to get up. Morgan was faster than me though, gently grabbing my ankle and urging me to lie back down. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I told her. “It’s… when I really feel like a baby down to the very core, my voice kind of… gets babyish.” “I’ll say,” Morgan said, using the rest of the wipes to do a quick last clean-down before getting a new diaper. “You really sounded like a baby.” “You don’t think it’s weird?” I asked shyly. Morgan was defying all my expectations of this weekend, but I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t think this was weird, but Morgan smiled, tapping my nose with her finger. “I think it’s the perfect voice for the baby you,” she answered sweetly. “You sounded adorable.” “You’re not just teasing me?” I asked, remembering this was Morgan I was talking to. Could I really trust her as much as my heart wanted to? She had been such a good caretaker all morning to me and I wanted to believe this wasn’t just an act, but twenty years of sisterhood is something incredibly hard to ignore, even if the little side of me was ready to follow her around the rest of the weekend like a little duckling. “You really think it’s cute?” “I really think it’s cute,” she said again, as she lifted my legs and put a clean diaper underneath me. Again, she powdered me liberally, front and back and on the sides until every part of skin that would touch the diaper was freshly powdered. She taped the diaper up snugly, reaching up past the diaper when she was done and tickling my sides a little. “Really really really!” “Agu!” I let it out again as I looked at Morgan smile at me. “Thank you, Miss Morgan!” “You’re so very welcome, baby girl,” Morgan said, helping me to my feet as she gathered the old diaper and wipes into an empty plastic grocery bag. “Now let’s go upstairs and have our yummy lunch, doesn’t that sound good?” “Mmhmm! Ummy-nummy!” I giggled as I held her hand going up the stairs. Morgan did not take any chances this time once we got to the kitchen, sitting me in tight and putting the bib around my neck. The cloth placemat in front of me was replaced with a plastic one that Morgan must have dug up from the bottom of the placemat drawer because I hadn’t seen the alphabet placemat since we lived in Minnesota. I sat still for Morgan as she went out to the car to get the groceries left in the car in the urgency of my diaper change, getting rid of the old diaper at the same time and coming back with the McDonald’s and the groceries. I looked impatiently at the food as Morgan went to go wash her hands, bouncing up and down a little when Morgan finally came back and put the chicken nuggets and fries on a small plate. “Oh, look what I found,” Morgan said with a singsong voice, reaching into the bag slowly and pulling out a small plastic package excitedly. “Barbeque sauce!” Yay! They didn’t forget it! I clapped my hands as Morgan peeled off the wrapper and put the sauce on the plate, putting the straw in my little soda cup and placing my meal out in front of me. Tucked tightly into the table with the plastic placemat, Morgan did not hesitate to let me go at the finger foods myself this time. Fingers wriggling with anticipation, I dug in, intentionally being sloppy about the food and not afraid to stick my fingers in the sauce or get bits of food all over my face. Morgan laughed at me a little and I smiled back. The idea of me being twenty-three was so far beyond me as I sat there in my soft fluffy diaper, eating a happy meal with a big around my neck that I undoubtedly needed. “You really are the messy eater,” Morgan commented, wiping my face clean when she was done. I didn’t even squirm that much this time, as she took my bib off and helped me up. “Okay, Holly, ready for your nap?” “What about my toy?” I pouted a little, putting my finger back in the sauce and in my mouth, forcing Morgan to wipe my hand again. “You can have it when you wake up,” she told me, pulling my chair out. “Right now, it’s naptime.” If I was really two, I might have thrown a fit, but I treasured the idea of having a mandatory nap now that I knew how good they could be. I feigned a yawn as I nodded sleepily and took Morgan’s hand as she led me back downstairs. I didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the changing mat or the happy meal. Morgan would take care of everything. All I had to do was be a good girl for her. I couldn’t have been happier or more at peace. Her finding out about my ABDL tendencies may arguably be one of the best things that had ever happened to me. “Okay, kiddo,” she said, helping me into my bed, pulling my princess sheets and baby blanket over me. “All ready for sweet dreams?” “Uh-huh,” I yawned, for real this time. “Thank you, Miss Morgan. You’re the bestest babysitter I ever had.” “Silly girl,” she said, stroking my hair. “I’m the first babysitter you’ve ever had in at least a decade.” “But you’re still the bestest,” I stuck my tongue out, defiant yet playful. “Coming from you, Holly, that’s the nicest compliment I could ask for,” Morgan said, turning down the blinds in my room and closing the door. I turned on my side, closing my eyes. I thought sleep would come naturally to a baby girl like me, but I was wrong. I tossed and turned against the grey muted light coming in from the room. I wasn’t sleepy. I really was about to act like a two-year-old. Opening the door, I peeked out of the room, knowing I was supposed to be napping, but I couldn’t help it. Morgan was on the couch watching one of the Real Housewives shows when she heard the door next to her. Her head turned instinctively and her body rose upright just as quickly as it approached me. “Holly, what’s the matter? Are you not tired?” “Can’t sleep,” I muttered. “Do you have something that helps you sleep?” she asked sincerely. I thought about this and then thought of the cardboard box where I had hid the bed sheets and the baby blanket. I had forgotten all about Abba, my stuffed gray bunny with a black bowtie and a big fluffy white cottontail. “Abba! Remember my Abba? He’s in one of my boxes. He’ll help me.” “Okay,” Morgan said, ushering me back into my room and back into bed as she dug through the cardboard boxes of my baby things, producing Abba as if by magic. “Here he is!” “Abba!” I cried out with excited giggles and grabby hands. Morgan placed him carefully in my hands as I cuddled him close to me as Morgan tucked me back in. “Thank you, Miss Morgan!” “You’re welcome, baby girl,” she told me, stroking my hair softly. “Now let’s try to sleep. Miss Morgan will come wake you up in a few hours.” “Pwomise?” I said, sticking my pinky out of the covers towards Morgan. “Pinky promise,” Morgan indulged me, crossing her pinky with mine. I smiled as she got up and closed the door. I had no trouble falling to sleep as the lazy Saturday afternoon passed with me all snug in my bed, cuddling my Abba with my thumb in my mouth. I guess dreams really do come true. Chapter 6 There was a heaviness and warmth in the air. The light had dimmed considerably as I squirmed underneath my blanket. I turned my head over to find Abba had fallen off the bed sometime during my nap. My diaper crinkled as I moved and tried to turn over on my side. I felt so heavy, like I could sleep more, but I fought the urge. Fear was sinking in that I had already slept longer than I was supposed to. As I sat up, I felt a twinge in my bladder. The soda from earlier was ready to come out the other end. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at my diaper as I put my hand on it and relaxed. It wasn’t easy to overcome the mental block of potty training, not that it ever was, but the thought of getting my diaper changed again gave me the release as I felt the plastic backing of the diaper get warmer to the touch on my palm. I sat there for a moment, taking in the late afternoon atmosphere as I patted the front of my diaper playfully, noticing how much heavier it felt. The weight made me feel impish as I climbed down out of my bed and toddled over to my bedroom door to open it. Peeking out, I could see Morgan wasn’t there anymore. I walked out, wondering if she was upstairs, before my eyes were drawn to the pale orange light shining through the high-seated windows to my left. I could already see the sun making its descent. I had slept late. Fearful that I would miss anymore of my special time with Morgan, I hurried to the staircase, walking before realizing it would be more appropriate to crawl. I smiled, getting on my hands and knees as I banged noisily as I slammed against the staircase with, clattering up the staircase, when I got to the top. I was ready to get back on my feet to open it when it opened for me. “There you are,” Morgan said with a kind, sweet voice, kneeling down and helping me to my feet at the top by my armpits. “Little Miss Sleepyhead finally woke up!” I wanted to be a good girl, but I remembered at the sight of Morgan and the clock past her reading 4:36 helped me remember the promise she made to me before I took my nap and pouted instead. “You pwomised you’d wake me up!” I whined, petulantly stamping my foot. “I know, sweetie,” Morgan said, smoothing my hair out from being all over the place from tossing and turning in bed, not at all upset with me for my attitude. “I did try, but you wouldn’t budge. You were just too sleepy.” I wanted to act like a real toddler and stay mad, but it was hard. Morgan’s soft voice and comforting touch made it so hard to stay mad at her. I pouted a little bit, though I probably wasn’t very convincing. “Can I have my happy meal toy now, pwease?” “Of course, honey,” Morgan cooed as she walked over to the counter and held out an object wrapped in thin plastic. “Here you go.” Eagerly, I ripped at the plastic and threw it on the ground holding my prize in front of me; an adorable little stuffed elephant – hot pink with purple fuzzy fair on its head and for a tail. “Yay!” I giggled as I ran around the living room with my new friend. “I’m gonna name you Twinkle!” I exclaimed proudly. Morgan picked up my trash and looked at the plastic package intently. “Holly, it says here his name is Peanut.” “No!” I announced loudly. “Her name is Twinkle!” Morgan sighed, letting me do as I pleased as she threw away the plastic packing in the trash can before she headed over to me. “What’s this I see?” she said, catching me while I was running in a circle, patting the back of my diaper in her arms. “Did someone do a little something in her diaper during her nap?” “Nooooo,” I squirmed in Morgan’s hold. I wasn’t really lying, because I didn’t do it during my nap. “I think someone did do something,” Morgan said, turning me around to face her as she pulled back the front of my diaper, releasing the waistband with a snap. “Yup yup, I was right. Baby Holly sprung a leak. Did she do anything else?” The back of my diaper was pulled back and Morgan sighed with relief to see there was nothing there other than a little more pee. “Just a sprinkle,” she confirmed, patting my bottom. “What do you say we get you a new diaper, hmm? Would you like that?” I giggled and nodded as Morgan told me to stay exactly where I was as she went downstairs to get my changing pad, powder, and a fresh diaper. She didn’t bother getting the wipes, as there were still the ones from up here. Spreading out the changing pad in the wide-open living room, I took her hand as she laid me down. Surrounded by so many rising windows and in full view of the front door, I felt more self-conscious than my first diaper change. I squirmed a little, anxious but afraid of all the windows and doors in full view, even though I knew it would be a one in a million chance that anyone would walk by or be able to see me inside. “Holly, be a good girl,” Morgan cautioned me, as she rolled me over into position more than once due to my squirming. “You’re not going to give me a hard time, are you?” I looked aside, whimpering, still squirming. “Okay, fussy baby,” Morgan stated as she reached into her pocket and pulled out my butterfly pacifier. “Will this make you feel better?” I looked at my pacifier longingly as Morgan moved it closer and pressed it into my mouth. Instinctively, I began to suck and nurse on the rubber soother as I became a little more complacent. “Good girl,” Morgan praised me as I nursed as she untaped my diaper and pulled it down flush on the changing pad. “Upsy-daisy,” she told me as she clasped my ankles and pushed my legs up wide. Remembering my last change, I reached up to be a good girl and hold my legs back. This was not lost on Morgan. “Good girl!” she cooed loudly, tapping me on my nose before she opened the pack of baby wipes. “You’re making this so easy for Miss Morgan.” I closed my eyes, listening to Morgan’s sweet words and the loving, babyish sensations – all the smells, all the sounds, and all the feels – of having my diaper changed. Though I had changed my diaper countless times, between this time and the last time Morgan had changed me, I knew for positive that there was something so much more comforting, secure, and kind about being changed by another person. Morgan smiled as she ran the baby wipes in between my legs and down my bottom. “Good girl holding still,” she told me as she cleaned me up and made me smell so very good. “Yeah, we’re almost done. Pee pee diapers are so much easier to clean up than poopy ones.” “Mith Mogan,” I babbled through my paci. “Wath ma oopy diaph one uf yaw top ten?” “Top 20, maybe,” Morgan replied, pulling out the old diaper and putting a fresh one underneath my clean bottom. “What do I gotta do to make a Top 10?” I asked, spitting my paci out on my chest, curious as to what my sister would consider a complete disaster of a diaper change if a 23-year-old’s bottom caked in her mess wasn’t the worst she has seen. Morgan laughed, rolling her eyes, likely in remembrance of some of the truly terrifying changes she’d had to perform. She spread my legs and shaking the bottle of baby powder over my pink parts as she answered. “You don’t want to know, kiddo. Trust me, you really don’t.” I put my pacifier back in my mouth, smiling up at Morgan, who smiled back at me as she taped my new diaper up, rolling me over off the changing mat, patting me on the bottom to let me know she was done. “There you go, all nice and clean,” Morgan said as she cleaned her hands off with a baby wipe before taking my wet Bambino outside to the garbage can. I lay on my side on the white carpet as I looked at all my changing supplies. Reaching over, I got a mischievous idea and grabbed at the baby wipes, pulling them out one by one around me. I didn’t get very far when Morgan caught me and hurried over to take them away from me. “What are you doing, Holly?” she scolded me, picking up the discarded wipes and the remainder of the package, along with the rest of my diapering supplies. I giggled, not sure what to say and tried to let childish innocence be the answer. Morgan gave me a knowing eye as she got all my things together. “Silly girl,” Morgan chided me as she took everything downstairs, coming back up and heading straight for the laundry room. “Let’s see if we have something you can play with that won’t make a big mess for Miss Morgan to clean up.” I laid down on the carpet in Morgan’s absence, picking at the fuzzy carpeting, pinching at it and picking it up off the ground and letting it go, doing it over and over while I heard rustling sounds coming from the laundry room on the other side of the house. Hearing the closing of cabinet doors, I looked up to see Morgan coming back to the living room with a familiar looking plastic bin with a dingy white lid. “Look what I found!” Morgan announced happily, shaking the box. The sound of rolling and rattling objects intrigued me as she put it on the floor and peeled off the lid with a snapping sound. I peered in, my eyes lighting up at the assortment of loose washable markers and crayons of all different colors and wear. Scattered beneath the coloring items was a variety of different coloring books featuring Barbie, Minnie Mouse, The Little Mermaid, and Hello Kitty! “The art box!” I squealed, reaching in and grabbing handfuls of markers and crayons. “Mom and Dad kept it?” “It seems they’ve kept a lot of things,” Morgan told me as she picked up what I was spilling, amidst my choosing of which markers and crayons I would use. “Maybe they’re saving it for when they have grandkids.” “Maybe,” I said in a small, uninterested voice, far more concerned with finding the right page in the Little Mermaid book, settling on a picture of Ariel showing Flounder her treasures. I took a jungle green crayon and began to color in some of the rust and water-damaged human objects in Ariel’s grotto. I knew it was more appropriate to color outside the lines, but I wanted to make the picture look as pretty as possible. Now that I was distracted by the coloring book, Morgan stood up from hovering over me and took a seat on the couch. She turned on the TV to some movie on cable, using it as background noise for us while she indulged in a book of her own. I chose my colors carefully, mostly sticking to crayons as they had varying shades that would match the dark shadowy nature of the grotto far better than bright greens and blues that the markers came in. Morgan would look down on me every once in a while to see I was doing okay and not drawing on the carpet. Even if I was in the position of a two-year-old, I wasn’t stupid enough to cause damage that would have to be explained when Mom and Dad got back tomorrow. As the sun set lower in the sky and the movie on TV ended, Morgan closed her book, standing up and kneeling down over me. “Wow!” Morgan exclaimed. I jumped a little, not noticing her next to me as I was putting the finishing touches on the page I was drawing, the third one I had made it through of the book. “Holly, that’s such a pretty picture! You’re so talented!” My hand stopped as the crayon trembled in my hand and my heart sank as I looked down at my work from the afternoon. How long had it been since I had drawn just for the sake of drawing? I stared down at my colored pages with a sense of longing and melancholy. “I guess…” I managed to say, crying out passively to Morgan in light of her praise. Morgan crouched down next to me, placing her hand on my shoulder comfortingly as I lay there on my belly. I turned my head to face Morgan, my lips trembling as I remembered things I had promised myself I wouldn’t remember. In all the excitement of remembering what it was to lay down in the living room and color the afternoon away, to do it because it made me happy and for no other reason. “What’s the matter?” Morgan asked me, and for everything she had done for me today, I didn’t feel afraid to tell her truthfully. I put the crayon down, pushing myself up and sitting on the floor against the coffee table. I pursed my lips, feeling the pressure in my eyes as I thought back to my late days in college. “I just… I forgot how much fun drawing was.” “What do you mean?” Morgan asked, sitting down Indian-style across from me. “I just…” I took a deep breath before I continued. “I don’t…” “Was there a reason you stopped drawing?” Morgan asked, looking at me seriously. It wasn’t a big surprise to her or anyone in my family that I stopped drawing halfway through college. It was part of why I ended up with a liberal arts degree when I had been so focused on my artwork up until then, but my second semester hurt me in a way I wasn’t able to get over. “Someone saw my work and suggested I start putting it online,” I explained after a moment’s hesitation. “I wasn’t expecting a lot of praise, but some of the things people told me… it was like they took joy in insulting my work. I didn’t want to keep drawing. I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough. There were so many people better than me and I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough to match up to them.” “Oh, Holly,” Morgan sighed softly, putting her hand gently on my cheek. “You can’t listen to people like that. You have to believe in yourself. “You say that like it’s so easy,” I whimpered, feeling the tears coming on. “ You don’t think I tried that? You don’t think I tried to ignore them? I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.” “Holly,” Morgan cooed my name as she crawled over to me and pulled me against her in a tight hug. “Holly, it’s okay. You really do have a lot of talent and if those idiots online can’t see that, that’s their problem. You should draw again, if only for yourself and the way it makes you feel.” I was bawling against her shoulder now, clutching tightly to her blouse as I drenched it with my tears. “It’s been so long, Morgan… since I drew, since anyone told me I was any good at anything. Thank you.” “Shhhh,” she hushed me, stroking my hair softly as she held me and let me cry on her. “You should never be bullied into giving up something that makes you happy, be that your drawing or your diapers. If it makes you happy, that’s all that matters.” I held onto my sister for a number of minutes before my sobs dissipated into soft sniffles. When I felt strong enough that I could let go, I slowly backed away from my sister’s embrace. She opened her arms just as slowly as I looked at her, my eyes raw and puffy once again as she wiped residue of my tears from the corners of my eyes with the back of her finger. “It’s okay, Holly,” she told me again with a comforting smile. “Everything will be okay.” I wanted to believe her, but more than my desire to be comforted by Morgan was my even stronger confusion why she was acting like this. This went beyond her whole “Miss Morgan” persona. This felt like she was trying to connect to me, sister to sister, someone who had never shown any interest or desire to do it up until today. “Holly?” Morgan interrupted my thoughts, looking at me with the same dire gaze I was giving her, but before I could open my mouth, Morgan laughed, raising her hand and waving off the interjection. “Never mind, it’s nothing.” No, something was most definitely going on with Morgan. Maybe she felt now that I was opening up to her that she could open up to me about something, but what, I could not possibly know. Was it possible that my sister, who rubbed her perfection and superiority in my face for nearly a decade, was not as perfect as I thought she was? Before I could ask her what was troubling her, she got to her feet, looking towards the kitchen and letting out a fake gasp to offset the mood we had established. “Oh, look at the time, I need to make dinner. We can’t have your tummy rumbling, can we?” I looked up at the clock to see it was a little after 6:30. I got to my own feet, following after her but she shooed me back to the living room. “Why don’t you stay in the other room and watch some TV?” she recommended. “Miss Morgan needs to cook dinner and she can’t have you around the stove.” Feeling bad that Morgan didn’t want to talk to me any longer, I hurried back to the living room. Before she could say anything, I presented her with the three pages of the coloring book I had illustrated from top to bottom with my name scrawled out in big black letters at the bottom, crude and aimless, like the two-year-old I was to Morgan. I looked at her silently, letting my eyes plead for me for her to know they were for her. “Oh, sweetie,” Morgan said, taking the pictures from me and hugging me. “Thank you. I love them.” Morgan let me go to walk over to the refrigerator where she took some spare real estate magnets and used them to hang the pictures proudly. I beamed my approval and hugged Morgan back before heading back to the family room. While Morgan was cooking a spaghetti dinner, I would often find myself ignoring the cartoons on the television and looked over at Morgan. She seemed to be lost in a deep, sad thought. I wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but I doubt it was something she could talk about with a two-year-old. Maybe when I grew up, she would tell me. Maybe… Chapter 7 The spaghetti didn’t take long to make. Morgan just boiled the noodles and heated a jar of Prego. When it was ready, she dished out a healthy serving into a blue plastic bowl and doused it with a generous serving of sauce. “Is dinner ready?” I called from the living room, not bothering to move. “Just about,” she said as I heard the sounds of the bowl tipping around on the counter and what sounded like a knife cutting along the inside of the bowl, over and over again. Morgan filled my sippy cup up with milk again and brought my meal to the table, pulling out my chair. “And ready. Holly, would you like to come to the table?” I pretended to have some difficulty getting up off the couch, purposefully refusing to shift my center of gravity as I strained to get to my feet. “Miss Morgan,” I whined loudly. “I’m stuck!” “Alright, alright,” Morgan hushed me as she walked over to the living room, taking both my hands with a gentle smile. Her eyes showed no sense of any hidden anxiety. I smiled just as much, hiding my own concern for Morgan. I wanted to say something and dinner seemed like the right time, where I’d have Morgan’s undivided attention. Taking Morgan’s hand, I followed her to the kitchen where she helped me into my seat, pushing my chair in and tying my bib back around my neck. I could smell the spaghetti sauce from the kitchen, but watching the steam rise out of my bowl, I took a large whiff with a big grin. Morgan sat down to my right with her meal, the same as mine but hers was on a ceramic plate with adult silverware and an actual glass full of milk. “It smells good, doesn’t it?” “Mmhmm,” I sighed in agreement as I picked up my airplane spoon and dug into my bowl, using the spoon more like a shovel. To say Morgan had cut the spaghetti was an understatement. She had practically diced it with pieces small enough they could all fit on the tiny spoon. “Um, Morgan,” I asked as I readied to take my first bite. “I wanted to ask, is something…” “Oh, Holly, no,” Morgan interrupted me, prying the spoon away from me. “No, honey, it’s far too messy to do it yourself. You’ll get it all over.” What in the world? I thought as I held tight to the spoon as little bits of noodles and sauce dribbled off the utensil onto the plastic placemat. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to keep me from talking or if she genuinely didn’t want me to feed myself, but I knew I did not want her jamming that spoon down my throat a second time and I held tight to that little spoon, my pleasant demeanor becoming grumpy again. “Holly,” Morgan tried to reason with me. “You’re been a good girl all afternoon. You don’t want to be a bad girl again, do you? Bad girls get punished. You don’t want to be punished, do you?” I hesitated, but held tight to the spoon all the same. “I wanna do it!” I argued, pulling back. It wasn’t unreasonable for a two-year-old to want to feed herself. Morgan had to have known this from her job at the daycare. “I can do it!” I could see the look in Morgan’s eyes getting far more stern and cold. She wasn’t going to give me an inch with this. “Holly, I’m going to give you to the count of three,” she warned me, my fingers not budging even a little from the spoon. “One, two…” I let go, but we both miscalculated how tightly the two of us had been pulling at the spoon. When I let go, Morgan fell back a little, as her face was splattered with little drops of spaghetti sauce and noodles. She was stunned, unsure what had happened as she reached a hand to her face to confirm what had just happened. The look on her face of complete disbelief that the sister she had told was to be treated like a toddler had acted like a toddler; I couldn’t help myself and started giggling mercilessly at Morgan. My cheeks were burning red. I couldn’t stop the laughter, even though I was terrified she wouldn’t find it very funny. Eventually, Morgan winced, squeezing her eyes shut as her awestruck lips curled up into a smile that shook with the suppression of her own laughter. “You little devil!” she laughed as she wiped her face off with her napkin. “See? This is why I have to feed you. Now hold still.” I didn’t want to be fed, but at the same time, I didn’t want to push my luck any farther. I tried to remember the rhythm as Morgan fed me spoonful after spoonful of my dinner, all the while chiding me for my actions, and all the while silencing any defense I had with another flyby of the airplane into the hanger of my mouth. “Bad baby,” she gently scolded me, amused more than upset. “You got Miss Morgan all dirty. You think it’s so funny, don’t you? Well, you’re not one to talk, Miss Messy Face. Look at all that spaghetti you’re getting all over your face and your bib. I don’t know how you could get any messier. I had a few ideas, but right now I was plenty content in tilting my head in just such a way that my food got on my cheeks, my nose, my chin, and all over my bib with even some on my clothes. Morgan remained patient with me as I would be a good girl every now and then and eat, but when she missed, I would always smile and giggle in such a way that I knew she couldn’t get mad at someone who was just acting her supposed age. Morgan’s dinner had got cold long ago and would need heating up, but I was going to make sure it waited. Once I could hear the spoon scraping against the bowl as Morgan scooped out another bite for me, I made my move. As Morgan moved the spoon towards my mouth, I smiled a big mischievous grin and reached at my bowl. With the spoon precariously placed in Morgan’s hand, she didn’t have time to pull it away before I dumped it on my head. Morgan looked at me aghast as the sauce ran down my forehead over the bridge of my nose. “All done,” I announced proudly as the lukewarm sauce seeped into my hair. “I can go pway now?” Morgan looked like she was about ready to cry as she put a hand over her mouth and then over her forehead, looking at me as if I was criminally insane. “Play?” she repeated in disbelief. “Oh, you can go play.” I got up when Morgan grabbed my hand holding me back. “You can play in the bathtub while I wash all that food out of your hair.” “No!” I stomped, noodle bits falling out of the bowl and onto my face and the floor to Morgan’s dismay. “Go play in the living room!” Morgan had to have known I was joking as I stood there, waiting to see how she would react. Oh, how good it felt to give her exactly what she wanted out of today on my terms. Sighing in defeat, she got up and undid my bib, placing it clean side down on the table as she walked away from her own meal, which would surely have to wait now. “Come on, Little Miss Messy, it’s bath time and you know it.” Before we even dared to walk across the carpet, Morgan took me over to the sink, pushing my head down and removing the bowl. Turning on the faucet, she washed as much of the damage out of my hair as I squirmed and moaned about letting me go, even though I knew there was no going anywhere after what I had done. Once Morgan felt I was suitable to walk across the carpet, she rubbed my hair with an old dishtowel and wrapped it around my neck to keep any stray bits of food from falling on the carpet. Carefully, she walked me not downstairs, but across the living room and up the stairs to our parents’ bedroom. “Why are we going in here?” I asked, knowing there was a perfectly fine shower downstairs. “You really need to ask?” Morgan asked. “Mom and Dad have the really big whirlpool tub. It’s the only one in the house that will fit a baby as big as you.” I blushed as Morgan led me across the master bedroom to the bathroom on the side. The first thing I could see on the left was the enormous whirlpool tub. I looked at it excitedly. “I’m gonna get to take a real bath in there? Do I get bubbles?” “Of course,” Morgan said, positioning me on the mint green bathmat. “Now I want you to stay right here and not move a muscle. I’ll get your things and we can get you undressed.” “Um, Morgan,” I interjected. “I’m okay bathing myself.” Of course I should have realized how Morgan would have responded, but I just didn’t feel comfortable about being bathed. I mean, a diaper change was one thing, but I didn’t want to have someone else’s hands all over me from head to toe, laying there under the bubbles in nothing but my bare skin. I didn’t care if it was just my sister. I didn’t want to be bathed. “Is that so?” Morgan said, looking me up and down. “And what would make you think I would trust a diaper-messing, thumb-sucking, spaghetti-splattered toddler to properly bathe herself? I can’t trust you one bit, baby girl. Don’t worry, that’s what Miss Morgan is here for. All you’re going to have to do is relax.” Relaxing was not something I was capable of as Morgan walked to the door as I reached out towards her, calling her name with panic in my voice. “Morgan, I don’t want to do this. Please just let me do this part on my own.” “Holly, it’s just me,” Morgan tried to comfort me to no avail, even teasing me for being as nervous about something as basic as a bath. “What, are you afraid you’ll like it.” “No!” I huffed angrily, stomping my foot down so hard it shook the toothbrushes in their holders and the various medicines and makeups on the counter. Morgan looked at me with a cold glare that reflected she was not going to put up with my attitude any longer. I backed away a bit, my lower lip trembling in a whimper. “I just… I don’t like being touched by other people.” “You didn’t seem to mind when I changed your diaper,” Morgan commented. “What’s so different about that?” And I really had no good answer. A feeble “because” dribbled out of the corner of my mouth, but Morgan was smiling, knowing I knew she was right, but I wasn’t fully naked during my change. Just the thought of being naked in the tub, vulnerable as I could possibly be, made me feel a little nervous. I stood there like a good girl, knowing I had pushed Morgan’s buttons as far as they would go for the time being as she gathered a fresh snow-white towel, a matching washcloth, my baby bath and baby shampoo, and supplies to diaper me once I was clean. “Okay,” she said, placing all the items on the toilet seat. “Now I’m going to ask you once, and I want the truth because once that tub is full it stays full – do you have to go potty?” “No,” I mumbled, holding my arms across my chest. “Holly,” Morgan asked me again. “Do you have to go potty?” “I don’t have to potty,” I affirmed to Morgan’s satisfaction. Pleased with my response, she turned the tub water on, checking the temperature then waving me over to check it to make sure it was okay. “A little hotter,” I asked until it felt just right. I pulled my hand away as Morgan began to undress me from head to toe. As I stood in the bathtub, watching the water fill up and Morgan add a generous dose of baby bath to the water to make it bubble up, I held myself, feeling so cold and exposed. “Just a little longer,” Morgan said, as ‘a little longer’ began to feel like an eternity. I danced on my tiptoes, wanting so badly to immerse myself through the fragrant bubbly surface on top into the steamy warm water, wanting to feel it in every inch of my skin. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Morgan turned the water off and took my hand, holding it tight as I navigated myself into the tub. The water was just the way I liked it, so warm that if it were any hotter it would burn my skin. I let the heat pierce my skin and warm me to the bone, slowly, easily with Morgan holding my hand all the way, lowering myself into the tub and letting my whole body become engulfed in the wonderfully intense heat of the bath. I let out a sigh of bliss as I sank deeper into the tub, so deep my chin touched the surface of the water. I closed my eyes for a moment to take in the sensation before I felt a presence enter the water other than my own. I opened my eyes to see Morgan, dousing the washcloth into the water and gathering bubbles, taking my arm and running the cloth up and down it, even getting in between my fingers. I flinched for a moment before Morgan looked at me cautiously. “Holly, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she coaxed as she did the same to my other arm. “Remember when I changed your diaper how much you liked that? It’s just like that now, just a bathtub instead of a tub of wipes.” I hesitated to make the comparison, but I tried to relax. I knew Morgan would punish me if I was any more difficult, so I closed my eyes, letting Morgan run the washcloth over me from head to toe, making sure I was squeaky clean in every nook and cranny. As the washcloth moved up and down my skin, I began to giggle from how much it tickled, and Morgan only encouraged this with her words. “Yeah, the messy baby’s getting all nice and clean, isn’t she?” she cooed. “Baby Holly loves getting clean and smelling good. Yes, she does. Miss Morgan’s gonna make sure even inch of your skin shines – your cute little toes, your pretty legs, you pudgy little baby belly, every single last spot.” Just like before, I lost myself in the sensation of being bathed like a baby and Morgan’s sweet words, returning to my high-pitched babbling state as I kicked and splashed a little, my body giving way to every little reflex as my body twitched and shivered, making little splashes on the surface of the water, lapping up against the sides of the tub and getting Morgan’s blouse a little damp. “Now now, who’s a good baby?” Morgan soothed me as she finished washing me down. “Let’s not make a mess. You’re doing so well. Miss Morgan is so proud of you.” I beamed over such small and infantile praise as if I had won a major award, while Morgan held my head back under the water until it came up around my ears, running her hands through my brunette hair, she made sure to get it nice and wet before opening the baby shampoo and lathering a large dollop through my dark locks. I cooed softly, something I would often suppress when getting my hair washed at a salon, but here in Morgan’s care, I let my childish glee for being taken care of show. “Yeah, someone’s not fussy anymore, no no no,” Morgan talked to me like I was the toddler I truly felt I was. “Okie dokie, let’s get you under the faucet,” she helped motion me around towards the large faucet on the other end as she turned it on, making sure it was a little cooler than I liked so it didn’t burn my scalp, but not cold enough that I would thrash. Gently, she scrubbed my hair clean before turning the faucet off. “Ready to get out?” she asked, holding up a big fluffy towel. I wanted to say ‘yes’ but there was something else I wanted to try. Pulling up the drain, I sat there, constantly telling Morgan no as I felt the water drain away from my skin. I always loved this feeling as a child and experiencing it again, the enjoyment had not faded in the slightest. As the water pooled around my bottom, nearly drained, I felt a chill. Morgan noticed me shiver and quickly wrapped the towel around me, even though I was still sitting in the tub. “Okay, time to get out,” she announced. “We can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?” “No,” I answered sincerely and happily as Morgan as she dried me off and combed my baby-soft hair. I sucked my thumb in front of her, smiling and trying to look cute. She smiled back, undistracted until I was dry enough to get dressed. “Ready for a clean diaper?” Morgan asked, patting the diaper on the toilet seat. I nodded as Morgan helped me lie down on the bathmat, raising my bottom and putting the new diaper beneath me, and then got the lotion and powder. “Gotta make sure your skin stays nice and soft,” she teased me as she poured a decent amount of lotion between her hands, rubbing it together between her fingers so it would be nice and warm when she rubbed it into my skin. I babbled incessantly, kicking just slightly as Morgan cooed to me and continued to tell me what a good girl I was, reaching next for the powder and giving me a liberal helping on my front and rear before taping me up nice and snug. “Alright, now let’s get you downstairs so we can put on your jammies, then it’s off to bed.” “Bed?” I whimpered, shocked by the sudden realization. “But it’s not bedtime.” “It’s almost eight,” Morgan commented, tapping my nose playfully. “And that’s when all good little girls go night night.” I pouted, but knowing I didn’t have much of a say, I followed Morgan downstairs to my bedroom. I didn’t have any jammies suitable of a girl my age just yet. That was the next thing I planned to buy, so Morgan made due with an oversized T-shirt before tucking me in with Abba. “Oh,” I stammered, remembering what I had forgotten from last night. “My nightlight. It’s in the top cardboard box, can you get it?” “Sure thing, baby girl,” Morgan patted my head as she plugged it in, tucking me again tightly under the covers. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you in the morning.” “Wait,” I said again, as Morgan turned around. She seemed a little more annoyed this time. I think she thought I was going to play that game where I keep asking for things to stay up late, but I knew that never worked. “Just one more thing, really, just one.” “What is it?” Morgan sighed, sitting down by my bed. “A glass of water? Check for monsters?” “A story?” I asked with a small, hopeful voice. Morgan had to remember we never went to bed as a little girl without story time, and seeing the soft smile upon her face, I knew she was on the same page as me, but her smile didn’t last long. “Sweetie, I’d love to tell you a story, but I don’t remember many off the top of my head,” Morgan sighed, stroking my hair gently as she spoke. “Was there a story you had you wanted me to tell you?” “Why don’t you make one up?” I asked, not realizing or considering what a toll that would be on Morgan out of the blue. Morgan though looked at me thoughtfully, closing her eyes and thinking about exactly what she wanted to say. She opened her eyes, smiling at me, and continuing to run her fingers through my smooth clean hair. “Alright, I have one. It’s the story of the two princesses Elizabeth and Alice.” Elizabeth and Alice, I thought as Morgan began. Those are our middle names. Looking into Morgan’s empathetic gaze, I knew to lay still and listen as Morgan began the story: “Once upon a time, there were two princesses, Elizabeth and Alice. Elizabeth was the elder and was heir to the throne while Alice was the younger. When Alice was born, it was said the princess Elizabeth could not stop gushing with joy that she had a sister who she could teach and become best friends with, but then something horrible happened. “A spell was placed on the princess Elizabeth. What’s more, nobody realized the spell had been placed upon her, not even Elizabeth herself. Because nobody knew the spell had been placed or even how, nobody knew to do anything, not even Elizabeth. What they did notice was that Elizabeth grew more and more withdrawn and would often lock herself away in her room. “She yelled at anyone that tried to talk to her. The king and queen were worried, but Alice most especially, as she wanted to be friends with her elder sister. As the years passed, the spell continued to hold and Elizabeth continued to shut herself off from anyone and everyone, taking solace in writing and drawing to express herself, but rarely if ever sharing it with the king and queen or Alice. “By now everyone knew there was something wrong with the elder princess, and the king and queen began to wonder if she would be ready to take the throne when the time came. They began to focus on Alice, who had been doing her best in the face of Elizabeth’s lack of responsibility to be the more responsible sister and more suitable heir. It was not a choice she made willingly, but the king and queen did not want to see what happened to Elizabeth happen to Alice. “Elizabeth remained sealed off in the castle alone. One day, Alice tried, knowing it would be in vain, to reach out again to Elizabeth. Years of constantly being ignored and yelled at had left Alice angry with Elizabeth and her attempts to reach her had become more and more pointed. Alice didn’t intend this, but she wanted to reach Elizabeth, and if that was the only way, so be it. “Elizabeth again ignored Alice until Alice opened Elizabeth’s door. It was then that Alice found Elizabeth not as her elder sister, but as a child. The spell was keeping Elizabeth a child and making her unable to tell anyone. It would ensure she could never become queen one day. Elizabeth snapped into a rage that someone knew her shameful secret and attacked her sister, but though Alice was shocked, now that she knew what spell had been cast upon her dear sister, she knew there must be some way to break it. “She looked upon Elizabeth, watching as she cried and sobbed like a child in her room, all alone. Alice knew Elizabeth had not wanted to be alone, she could see it in her sister’s eyes, so Alice approached Elizabeth, not to hurt her or shame her for being bound by the spell, but to help her bear with it, maybe even overcome it. Alice stayed by her elder sister’s side, taking care of her. Elizabeth was so happy, she showed a great deal of admiration and love for Alice for the first time since the spell had been cast upon her. Alice knew if she continued to be there for Elizabeth, maybe one day the spell would be lifted.” Morgan kept running her hand through my hair well after she had stopped telling the story, looking at me with understanding and sympathy. I was wrong. All this time, I was wrong. All this time I thought Morgan hated me, and all this time I thought she never loved me, and I was wrong. I was so very, very wrong. I could feel the scalding tears running down my cheeks as I tried to wipe them away, but my hands were tucked tightly under the covers. Morgan reached out the back of her index finger, gathering the tears gently. “Morgan,” I sniffled, knowing the story was not yet over, knowing that it was still yet to be written. “What if the spell can’t be lifted? What if… what if the princess doesn’t necessarily want it to be lifted?” Morgan leaned over, hugging me tightly around the neck. “Then I’m sure Alice would stay by Elizabeth’s side. If the spell can’t be broken, maybe she can help make it manageable. That’s what I think she’d do.” No, I thought, the tears coming again as I fought against the covers, pulling them out to hug Morgan back. That’s what you did do. That’s what you had been trying to do and all I did was shut you out. It wasn’t just about wanting to be a baby again, it was everything… I thought I would only get hurt if I tried to open up. I wanted to do everything alone, and I hurt everyone; Mom, Dad, and you. “I’m sorry,” I managed to get out through the maelstrom of my guilt and sorrow. “I’m sorry I said you never loved me. I didn’t know how you felt. I didn’t both to ask. I…” “Shhhhh,” Morgan hushed me with a single finger placed against my lips. “It’s okay, baby girl. Now you know, and you can always remember, I’m here for you whenever you need me.” I nodded softly, snuggling into my covers. “Will you be here in the morning?” “I will,” Morgan stroked my hair a final time. “Now close your eyes and have sweet dreams, and don’t worry about a thing.” I nodded as I closed my eyes and rolled over on my side facing the wall. Morgan shut the door as my nightlight buzzed and filled my room with a gentle blue glow. Comforted that I wasn’t alone, that I didn’t have anything to fear, I began to drift off to sleep. The door opened slightly as I was in between the waking world and the dream world. I wasn’t even sure if it was real, but the voice was distinctly Morgan’s. “Holly,” the words drifted lazily in my mind. “Do you think I’d be a good mommy?” Mommy? I thought, I didn’t understand the question, or if it was real. I struggled to open my eyes, to turn over and see if Holly had asked me that or if I had dreamed it, but the embrace of the sandman was pulling me deeper and deeper from consciousness. I only heard Morgan’s voice once more, and again, I couldn’t tell if I had imagined it or if she had actually said it, but it sounded like I had heard it once before. “Holly is such a good little baby.” I had heard Morgan say that before, not today, but sometime before… when… I searched my mind as I entered the land of dreams, a land that could show me anything I wanted, even things I had long forgotten. Chapter 8 A blinding white light broke the darkness, as intense and brilliant as anything I had ever seen. It pierced through the corners of my closed eyes, the flashes of white making my eyes flicker. As the light forced me awake, I could feel a strange sensation all over my body, something shameful and disgusting. I cringed as I placed a hand down on what felt like a bed, but it felt different than my own bed. My hand lay flat on damp sheets that let off a terrible odor. Moving my legs, feeling the slogging sensation of wet denim between them, I realized where they had come from. I was apparently not wearing diapers. I didn’t like the feeling at all as I lay in the wet bed and I squirmed, opening my eyes. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t even my room. I looked at my hand atop the wet sheets. I wasn’t even sure it was my hand. It was so little, so delicate and unmarked without the appearance of hard knuckles. They were the hands of a young child. The hands were attached to smooth little arms that ran up my body and under a purple T-shirt with a picture of Tweety Bird on it. As I moved, I realized the back of the shirt was also wet. I was under a set of plain sky blue sheets, dark blue all around me from my accident. There was no comforter. It was too hot for a comforter, but it wasn’t nearly this hot when I went to bed. Where was I? Who was I? I tried to move, but couldn’t, and I soon realized why I wasn’t terrified of what I was seeing or who I was. I was watching a memory. I listened to the fan buzz in the room, turning on a swivel back and forth across the room, making my fine hair, which was blonde back then, tremble as it blew on me in regular intervals. I recognized this room. I was right that it wasn’t mine, but I wasn’t sure whose it was. My head lifted up and I got my first good look at the room. It was very plain with walls painted yellow and dingy white furniture, bare of any real sign of a human presence. The bed was a twin bed, but my feet didn’t even reach halfway down the mattress and the sole pillow in its matching pillowcase was nearly the size of my entire body. I looked to my right at the window and saw what I thought was the afternoon sunlight blazing into the room. My adult mind was able to remember this place from these details. I didn’t know her name, but she was one of the people who Morgan and I went to daycare at her house when we lived in Arizona. Before I could piece together anymore of where I was and in what time, my body moved, jerking around as if it were terrified, getting on my knees over the large wet spot where I had wet the bed. I didn’t know what to do but kneel there with a feeling that could only be described as true horror. I felt dread in my heart as footsteps came upstairs, one by one, booming like the thunder of an approaching storm, getting louder and more terrifying than the last. Quickly, I threw myself over the bed and pulled the sheets over me as the large foreboding door to the left of me opened and someone walked in. I couldn’t remember the faces of any of the people who babysat me or whose houses I went to for daycare, and the dream did not compensate for that. The face was a misshapen blur, with what I could make out to be poufy brown hair, possibly a perm. I peeked at the door with my eyes open the slightest, thinking they were closed enough that she wouldn’t suspect I was awake, before I knew that never worked. I was hoping she would not notice I was awake, that she would let me sleep and that I could figure that out, but I felt a hand, large and, though gentle, so much more forceful than I had prepared for. I didn’t move an inch, playing dead as it were, but adults are not as easily fooled as kids want to believe, and this babysitter was among them. I couldn’t hear her voice clearly, a garbled amalgamation of various voices of the past, but I could understand the words that registered in my mind. “Come on, Holly,” it called my name, nudging me awake. “Naptime’s over. Don’t you want to play with the other kids?” I remained motionless until my worst fears were realized and the sheets were lifted. I felt all the blood drain from my face and limbs, as if all the life in me were gravitating inward and leaving me a cold, shivering mess of fear and shame. “Holly,” the words registered with feelings of disappointment and anger. “My god, how old are you? Wetting the bed? You stay right there.” If I was in Arizona, that would have put me at the younger end of four years old. I would have been potty trained for a year by now, maybe eighteen months. Of course, I still had accidents, but not during naps, only at night sometimes and on really long car rides when Dad wouldn’t stop and told me to hold it. I was a big girl, I didn’t have wet myself during the day and pretty soon I wouldn’t wet myself at all at night, but for whatever reason that afternoon, I had relapsed to much younger tendencies. Unlike in my adult years, where I took joy in secretly wetting myself and indulging in my adult baby behavior, this was so much different. I wanted to cry. I think I was crying, but I couldn’t tell. There was a deep sadness inside me, a deep regret that I had done something terrible and unforgivable, because when you’re four, well, every mistake that makes an adult upset with you feels like you’ve brought the world crashing down around you. The babysitter’s footsteps were rushed and panicking, the noise only making it sound like I really had done something bad. Eventually, she returned, her thunderous footsteps signifying her approach before she appeared over me like a giant twice my size. Her voice boomed, and though I didn’t understand all of it, I understood I was in trouble. Rolling me over, she placed a towel over me and rolled me back, taking off my shirt, my shorts and my underwear. I didn’t understand what was going on until I heard the snap of a plastic lid and noticed her taking a handful of baby wipes out of a pink tub with the name “Morgan” written on the side in black marker. Exaggerated words of shame and disappointment were rained down on my as I was cleaned up the way a baby would be cleaned up after wetting their diaper, only I had the added disadvantage of being soaked from head to toe. I lay there, squirming and crying and saying “no” for what felt like hours as I was thoroughly wiped down. I was utterly devastated inside at how I was being treated not like a big girl, but a little diaper-wetting baby. Her hands and movements were very rough, as if she did not appreciate that I had put her in a position to do this, but left her no choice, and my whining was most likely not helping matters. It felt like the end of the world, but then came a pause. A soft little voice called from the door as the babysitter went over to the door and picked up a little toddler with tiny, tiny blonde pigtails in a hand-me-down Snoopy shirt and a diaper. “Howwy!” the baby babbled as she reached out at me as the babysitter put her on the dry end of the bed near my head as the babysitter continued to wipe me down. It wasn’t enough that I had to be treated this way, but I knew this little baby. This was Morgan. Morgan was watching me. “Howwy baby!” “That’s right,” the words registered with a sickeningly sweet condescending tone. “Holly is a baby today, just like you. She wet herself during her nap, just like a little baby.” I knew I was crying at this point. Morgan was my little sister and I wanted her to look up to me. How could she look up to me the way I was? She would never like me; she would never want to be my sister. “Howwy ith good widdle baby!” I heard her say, feeling her tiny hand tap down on my forehead, looking up at her little toothy grin as she patted my head softly, praising me for being good for the babysitter, praising me for being cleaned up like a baby. I felt Morgan’s small lips on my forehead as I closed my eyes, and opened them, breathing heavily, back in my own bed, in my own room, with my hand over my chest. I played the dream back over and over, and it never got murkier. Looking deep inside myself, I asked if it was real, and I could not think of a reason that something so clear and elaborate hadn’t really happened. I did live in Arizona, that was what Morgan looked like, and remembering how I was treated made me cringe with a darkly nostalgic sensation that made me incredible uncomfortable, but Morgan… Morgan made me feel better. Morgan made me feel okay and that I didn’t have to be ashamed of it. She smiled at me as I was treated like a baby girl. I didn’t know what time it was as I got out of bed. Morgan would undoubtedly be sleeping upstairs in her old room, so I felt no fear of being caught out of bed as I opened the door and slumped down on the couch, turning on the TV to clear my head as I skimmed through whatever infomercials and 80s sitcom reruns were airing at this ungodly hour. The urge to pee came on somewhere in the middle of an episode of The Cosby Show, but I did not feel like going in my diaper anymore. Taking off the tabs, I walked naked from the waist down to the bathroom and did my business like a proper lady. As I did, I felt a deep emptiness inside that tugged at my heart. Jesus, I thought as I finished up. What the hell is wrong with me? Of course, I knew what was wrong with me now, or at least a big part of it. There was something so soothing yet painful about the memory I had uncovered, as though I had unburdened myself of a great mystery while giving myself the even heavier burden of what I assumed to be the truth. I was sure it was that sense of shame while Morgan praised me that confused me like this, that made it take root in my mind. I couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t have remembered, but even telling myself that did nothing to console how I felt. I turned off the TV as I put my diaper back on and returned to bed. I looked at the window to see day had not yet broken, nor was it close. The only light in the room was still coming from the nightlight. Clasping my eyelids shut, I threw the covers over myself, searching for dreams that did not make me feel so badly, but morning came before I could. For a moment I thought I was having the same dream again, but the hand reaching to wake me was not as strong against my shoulder and I was dry, not just my sheets but also my diaper. I did not feel like the two-year-old I was supposed to be this morning, but Morgan felt like the caretaker just as much as she had the night before. “Rise and shine,” she commanded cheerfully. “The sun is shining and it’s a new day.” I rolled over lazily, looking at Morgan as if she had gone crazy, as if I hadn’t expected this, but Morgan interpreted it as more of my early morning grumpiness, and responded with even more baby talk. “Well, good morning, Miss Grumpy! You want to come upstairs with Miss Morgan and have some breakfast?” I could have played along, reaching to be lifted out of bed or pretending to put up a fight, but instead, I simply sat up, removed the covers and walked to the door. Morgan was perplexed by this, but did not falter in her own duties, pulling me back and checking my diaper. “Wow, someone stayed dry all night,” she said, honestly surprised. “I thought for sure I would be changing a wet diaper first thing this morning.” “It’s fine,” I responded in my normal adult voice. “I don’t need to go.” After twenty-four hours of whining and pouting in negative responses, Morgan was utterly silenced by my incredibly grown-up response. It took her a moment to follow me out of my bedroom and up the stairs that I had already begun to ascend without the need for her handholding. “Wait,” Morgan called, grabbing my hand back. “This isn’t what we agreed to. What’s going on with you?” “Nothing,” I lied to her. “I’m fine.” “You are not fine,” Morgan laughed slightly, pulling me back again. “This isn’t the way you were acting yesterday. I thought you liked being treated like a baby. Isn’t that what you wanted?” “I changed my mind,” I pulled back, trying to escape, but only getting to the top of the stairs before Morgan grabbed me at the top, slamming her hand across the doorframe, barring me so I could not leave the staircase. “Did something happen last night?” Morgan asked, before he own face drained of color. “Was it the story? Was it what I said?” “What you said?” I asked, barely remembering anything after the story. “What are you talking about? No, I’m fine, I just…” “Holly,” Morgan begged me, her voice choked in earnest. “Please don’t shut me out again. I liked our time together yesterday. I liked taking care of you, and how it made it so you opened up to me. Don’t do this again to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” “Nothing’s wrong!” I raised my voice, trying to push past her. “Just let me through!” “Not until you tell me!” she argued, holding me back. Frustrated with myself, with my thoughts, with who I was, I shoved Morgan across from the door, stomping past her across the kitchen before turning around, a safe distance enough away. “Fine!” I screamed, spiraling around to face her. “You really want to know? It’s you, Morgan! The whole reason I am the way I am is because of you!” Morgan looked at me for a moment, her eyes glazed over with confusion as a small smirk emerged, enraging me even more as I clenched my teeth. “What the hell do you think is funny about that?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Morgan asked, more bewildered than anything else. “I did this to you? I bought you all that baby stuff and convinced you to act like one? I did that? Are you serious?” “It’s not funny!” I screamed again, grabbing Morgan away from the wall and pushing her into it again, making the china cabinet in the dining room next to us rattle precariously. Morgan looked at me, deathly cold in her stare. “If you want to talk, we can talk,” she tried to be reasonable. “Sit down and we can talk about this while we eat.” Going with my better judgment, I made my way over to the table where I saw a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar had been prepared for me, along with a sippy cup and that damned airplane spoon. I picked it up and threw it across the living room where it nicked the wall. “I want a real spoon!” I demanded. “I am not a baby!” “You think you’re acting like an adult?” Morgan said, going to the living room to get the babyish utensil. “Because I can assure you, you are most certainly not.” “I don’t care what you think,” I kept my attitude going, not knowing where to draw the line or even how. “You’re not my mother. You don’t have the right to act like it, no matter how much you enjoy it.” “Wait, wait, you think I’m doing this because I want to? You think I wanted to spend my weekend changing my grown sister’s diapers, feeding her and watching her like she wasn’t able to do it herself?” Morgan was actively laughing now, mocking me, as she walked back and put the airplane spoon in front of me defiantly. “You wanted this, Holly. You wanted this before I even got here. Maybe you didn’t want me, but you got me, and you sure seemed pleased as punch about it last night, so I don’t care what you think or how upset with yourself you are – you are not taking this out on me again. Now eat your oatmeal.” I glared at Morgan. I knew she was right, and that just made me burn inside even more. Looking at the oatmeal in front of me, I waved my hand back and slapped it off the table, listening as the plastic bowl rolled around on the floor as Morgan looked at me in horror. I dared her to do something. I wanted her to get mad. I wanted her to end this once and for all and make me realize I am not a baby. I wanted that so badly, but as she raised her hand to slap me as I so rightfully deserved, she stopped. She glared at me and I could see it in her eyes how badly she wanted to do so. Her hand hesitated in the air as I waited for it to come flying down across my face, yet she put her hand down, slowly and trembling all over as she fought to restrain the pent-up anger she felt inside. She looked at me, grabbing her sides as she hunched over the island counter, looking like she was going to explode, both literally and figuratively. “What’s the matter?” I said, getting up from my seat, but Morgan looked at me like I had no right to even ask such a question. “Just sit down!” she ordered me, ready to cry. “I don’t need this stress right now, Holly!” “What are you so upset about?” I asked selfishly, knowing I had to be the one in more turmoil right now than her, but I wasn’t. She turned to me, beet-red as she wobbled over to one of the high-standing chairs at the island and took a seat, bending over and breathing deeply. “Really?” Morgan asked me skeptically, as skeptical as I had asked her the same question moments ago. “You really want to know?” Morgan was perfect compared to me. Whatever she was so visibly upset about what be like cake to what I was dealing with. “It can’t be that ba–” “I’m pregnant,” she spit at me, so violently and angrily and ready to break down. I sat back down, stunned and uncertain that I wasn’t sure what I had just heard. She glared at me again, judging me for my impudence, repeating it again. “Didn’t you hear me?” I heard it loud and clear, but I could not think of anything I could say, anything I should say, but only the thought that my sister who had cared for me as a baby all day yesterday was having a baby of her own. Chapter 9 The seconds ticked by as I sat at the table, looking at Morgan from across the kitchen. Her head was sunk down onto the island counter with her hands over her head, sheltering her from whatever judgment she thought I might put upon her. I, however, couldn’t do something like that to her, not since she hadn’t judged me. More than that, my silence was a search for answers that I could only obtain if I asked questions, but I couldn’t find the air to breathe that would let me speak to her. I could only sit there for what felt like hours. After a few failed attempts to find the words in my throat, my parted lips finally elicited a question that pierced through the uncomfortable silence. “How…” I started, stopping, waiting for her to look up, but she remained hidden under her hands. “How long have you known?” At first, I thought Morgan wasn’t going to answer me, but after a minute, she seemed to find her own voice once again as well. “A week,” the words came out in such a guttural manner, as if she had been choking on them. I blinked, feeling some moisture at the corner of my eyes – not tears, not yet at least. “How far along?” I continued asking the questions swirling around in my head. “Two weeks,” Morgan responded, much quicker and much clearer than last time. I nodded, taking a deep breath before I asked another question. “Am I the first…?” “Yes,” she stated sharply and outright, almost annoyed. I hesitated to ask another question, but curiosity got the best of me. “So Mom and Dad don’t…” “No,” she said, finally lifting her head, looking like she was ready to cry, or that maybe she had been crying silently for the past few minutes. I looked down at the table, away from Morgan’s bitter stare, feeling ashamed with myself for thinking I was the only person with problems in our family, a thought that was punctuated far more cruelly when Morgan called me out. “Happy now you’re not the only screw-up in this family?” “I never said you were perfect,” I responded, trying to save face, but it was already far too late for that. Morgan glared at me, her brow furrowing upon hearing that. “What was it you said to me Friday?” she recalled, her voice deep with spite. “About my perfect fucking life?” I winced, ready to cry myself. I fought back the tears as best I could, knowing I had no right to do so right now. I tightened my hands into fists in my lap, trying to squeeze out the pain to no avail. “I’m sorry,” I spit my apology out, as though it was burning me from inside and I needed to get it out of me. “I didn’t know.” “No shit,” Morgan muttered, crossing her arms and laying her head back down over them, sick of me. I couldn’t blame her in the slightest. I could only imagine what I looked like from her perspective, whining about my problems as if I was the only one who had them, bitter at the people who wanted to help me. I undoubtedly was as pathetic as I felt. All she had wanted to do was help me, and I constantly looked at it like she had an ulterior motive. It wasn’t like she gave me any hints that that was the case… no, wait. No, she had. I almost forgot, but no, that wasn’t my imagination, was it? I looked up at Morgan in her sheltered state, my curiosity again eating at me from inside. “So that wasn’t my imagination,” I questioned her seriously. “You really did ask me if you would be a good mom?” “It was stupid. Forget it,” she replied, confirming my suspicions. She did ask me that, after an entire day of treating me like a real toddler, she asked me if she’d be a good mother. There was no way that was a coincidence any longer. “Is that what all this was?” I began to speak more confidently, no longer feeling like this was all my fault. “I wanted to hear it from someone who I could trust to tell me the truth,” Morgan’s words bubbled up from the granite countertop. “Are you planning to keep it then?” I asked in such a nonchalant tone, that I immediately regretted it. Morgan peeked up from the resting place of her arms, eyeing me like I was an idiot before sinking her head back down on top of them. I was preparing to apologize, opening my mouth when Morgan’s response finally came, broken and painful. “I don’t know.” I knew better than to push that topic, but Morgan’s actions and how they affected me were not something I could just as easily ignore. “Did you…” I stopped, wanting to choose my words carefully. “Were you using this weekend as a chance to help you decide?” “It’s not like I planned any of this,” Morgan fell back on that excuse. Of course she didn’t plan this. I wasn’t an idiot. “I just thought…” “So you used me,” I interrupted softly, accusing her outright. This brought her head upright. She looked at me, incredulous that I would even dare to say such a thing after everything she had said. Maybe if I wasn’t selfish, I would give her the benefit of the doubt on everything, but I was selfish and I wanted answers to the things she had done that affected me. “Oh, give me a break,” she huffed, placing a hand on her forehead, exasperated. “Stop saying it like that, like you didn’t want it.” “What I wanted doesn’t change the fact that you took advantage of it,” I asserted myself, not backing down from any guilt-tripping she would put upon me. I may have been in the wrong on Friday, but it didn’t make her any better, using me like a guinea pig for her life decisions. Morgan looked aside, annoyed with my line of reasoning. “You make it sound like I bullied you into this.” “Didn’t you? Holding my attacking you over my head so you could test out your parenting skills?” I reminded her, the same way she was reminding me. I wasn’t going to be the bad guy if she was just as guilty as I was. I waited for her to snap back at me, but once again I was foiled. Morgan sighed, her gaze becoming downcast as she looked down on the countertop, avoiding my line of sight. “I guess you’re right,” she conceded. Seeing her look so defeated made me feel I had given her the wrong impression rather than feel like I had proven my point, and I was just as guilty for allowing her to go on with my treatment, and in some instance, even encouraging it. “It’s not like I hated it,” I admitted half-heartedly. Morgan laughed, closing her eyes. “That’s an understatement.” “But you still took advantage of it,” I affirmed, wanting to be absolutely clear about that point. Morgan though did not seem to feel much guilt over that matter now that she had fessed up to it. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked, putting the spotlight back on me. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t your whole plan this weekend to give yourself the full baby treatment?” She was right, but not entirely. “I told you, this was the first time I was going all out,” I reminded her. “Until now, I would just sneak a diaper here or there in the middle of the night, maybe suck my pacifier on nights when I knew no one would come to wake me up in the morning. Living with Mom and Dad doesn’t exactly give me ample opportunities for this, you know, and you… you just went all out and barely gave me any choice.” “So I went too far, is that it?” Morgan asked for clarification. “No,” I sighed, putting my hand on my forehead this time, rubbing at it, trying to find the exact words for how I felt, but the truth was this feeling was not nearly as simple as I wished it would be. “No, I liked all of it, but that’s what I hated most.” “I don’t understand,” Morgan replied. I wasn’t surprised. “I didn’t choose to be like this, Morgan,” I did my best to explain. “And truthfully, sometimes I hate being this way. It feels like I’ve given up, like I failed at growing up and this is all I have left. It’s comforting for a while, but then I just hate myself for it.” “This isn’t all you have,” Morgan tried to reassure me like yesterday, but I found out too hard to believe, even more so when she dared to put herself in my shoes. “You just hit a big bump in the road, same as me. You don’t see me in a diaper.” No, I thought, grimacing as I questioned whether I should tell her the full truth. No, you wouldn’t be. You were never put in a position that made you question if you were still a baby, were you? “Holly?” Morgan called my name, my silence having gone longer than I realized, but it was that push that pushed me to tell it to her straight. “I had a dream last night,” I began to explain. “It was about when we lived in Arizona, but it was so much clearer than any dream I’ve ever had. It was more like a memory. I’m not sure how much of it was real, if any of it was real, but in it, I wet the bed at the house we went to for daycare when we lived there. The babysitter stripped me and wiped me clean and you and her both said what a good baby I was, even though I wasn’t a baby, even though I didn’t want to be a baby. Still, you praised me for it. The fact that it made you happy made me happy, despite how much I hated it.” Morgan didn’t know how to respond to this, looking at me confused, like she was trying to remember it herself, despite having only been two, which is exactly the reasoning she decided to use. “Even if that did happen, you can’t blame me for something that happened before I could remember anything at all.” “I don’t,” I admitted reluctantly. “But that’s why I feel like this today. I feel like I’m being encouraged not to grow up, to stay like this forever…” The moisture gathered at the corner of my eyes again. This time, I was sure it was not a false alarm as my voice cracked. “I think there might really be a spell on me and that I won’t ever grow up.” My voice broke as I felt the first tear roll down my cheek. Looking pathetic, crying in nothing but a T-shirt and a diaper, Morgan came away from the island and joined me at the kitchen table where she had sat across from me at mealtimes all day yesterday. She placed her hand out towards mine, though did not take it, seeming to pull back at the last minute. “You’ll grow up,” she told me, hunched over the table so I could see her face while I stared down at the childish placemat in front of me, mocking me in the face of Morgan’s words. “Everything I said last night was how I really felt. I don’t hate you, and I never did. I love you, Holly, but hearing all this from you… do you hate me?” I winced, squeezing my eyes to milk the last of the tears out of my eyes so I wouldn’t have to keep crying. “No,” I answered. “I just… I always hated that we had nothing in common. I hated that you were better than me and more popular than me. I hated that we were so different… but that was all in my head, wasn’t it?” “Holly,” she spoke softly, putting her hand on top of mine. “Honest and truthful, would you rather this weekend had never happened?” “I don’t know,” I whispered, a slight headache starting to form, prompting me to find a way to end this painful conversation. “I’m more confused than ever now.” “You’re not alone,” Morgan squeezed my hand encouragingly. “All I wanted was to see if I could do a good job taking care of a baby full time by taking care of you, but now I don’t know. I don’t think any of this has helped. It’s just made things harder.” It killed me inside to see Morgan like this, because it meant I was right. Weally were the same, maybe not on the surface but inside we were two peas in a pod; stubborn, selfish, confused, and lost. I knew how that felt and I knew I would be remiss if I let her feel that way alone. “You did do a good job,” I answered. “You did a great job. Morgan, I haven’t felt so loved and cared for in years, and I have no doubt you would make a great mom.” “Then why aren’t you showing it?” Morgan asked sincerely. I pondered this question with sadness for the answer that remained unchanged through all of this. “Because I can’t be like this and be the way I want to be at the same time.” Morgan squeezed my hands tight and let loose a revelation from her lips; “Why do you have to choose? Why not just be you?” I thought about who I was for a moment. Someone who had scraped by out of college, who hadn’t ever held a real job, who had a passion for her art but gave up when she was bullied out of it, who had to rely on her parents for a living, who enjoyed watching preschool cartoons and wearing diapers and sucking her pacifier at night before bed. I was a complete mess. The words cracked out from my mouth as I closed my eyes, unable to bear whatever look Morgan would have for me. “I don’t know who “me” is.” My heart sank as Morgan let go of my hand, leaving me alone with my own admittance that I couldn’t keep my life in one piece, and was helpless to watch it crumble down around me at such a young age. I was beyond help. I would be little baby Holly forever. It was the only thing I was any good at. Strong arms wrapped around me from behind as my eyes snapped open, gasping as Morgan embraced me tightly from behind the chair, her lips close to my ear that she could gently whisper exactly what she thought of my opinion of myself. “You’re my big little sister,” she told me, pure and sincere. “You are a creative, aspiring adult trying to find her place in the world and a playful baby girl that finds wonders in things most of us have already forgotten. If you were to choose to be one or the other, you wouldn’t be you anymore. The only one who wants you to choose, Holly, is you, and I won’t let you do that. If you don’t know who you are anymore, I’ll always be here to remind you.” I cried for a while after that while Morgan held me close. She never hushed me, giving me all the time I needed to cry out all of my self-loathing and fear of who I was and who I was becoming, as if it was something I had to be ashamed of. She never let go, not for one single moment, until I had finished. “You said you’d stay by my side,” I sniffled as I finished my bawling. “Did you mean that?” “Every word,” Morgan whispered softly to me. My lips quivered as I took my hands and placed them on Morgan’s arms gently. “Then… is it okay if I stay by yours?” Morgan let go as I stood up and turned to face her. We hugged for the first time that could remember. We held each other so tightly, remembering and sealing our unconditional love for each other despite all of our flaws and failures as siblings beforehand. Morgan held my hand as we let go, looking at me with hope in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after today, but… just for now, just until I have to leave, can you stay my baby Holly?” The tears nearly returned as I covered my mouth, nodding as I hugged Morgan again, while she patted my head gently, soothing me in her arms. “There there,” she cooed as she held me. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Chapter 10 The return to baby Holly was nearly instant, now that there were no more secrets or shame between Morgan and I. As she patted my head, I let my body weight go on top of Morgan. She nearly stumbled, holding me up as I looked at her with pouty eyes. “Miss Morgan, I’m hungwy,” I pouted, knowing full well my breakfast was still all over the floor. That was in the past though, and Morgan helped me into my chair, pushing me in as she went to one of the kitchen drawers and wet it down under the kitchen sink. I sat there, playing with my airplane spoon and zooming it around playfully. Morgan smiled, ruffling my hair as she walked behind me and began to clean up the spilled oatmeal, cooling on the floor. “When I’m done with this, I’ll make you another bowl,” she told me, on her hands and knees on the hardwood floor. “And no more messes. You’re going to eat every spoonful, okay?” “Okays!” I announced in a loud voice, oblivious to ideas such as indoor voices as I made airplane noises and crashed the spoon into the table. Morgan chuckled a little as she finished cleaning up the mess on the floor and made her way back to the kitchen. “Is there anything special you want in your oatmeal, sweetie?” Morgan asked as she began to make another serving. “Bwown sugar! Bwown sugar” I demanded, banging the spoon on the plastic placemat in front of me, chanting it over and over again until Morgan came back to me, holding back her laughter as she took the spoon away from me, this time with little resistance. “Okay, okay, brown sugar it is,” Morgan said. “And booberries!” I added, thinking about it. Morgan turned around, walking to the kitchen to see if we had any blueberries, but I already knew they were there. After all, I was the one who bought them to have this weekend. “Look what I found!” Morgan announced, presenting the blueberry package like one of those prize models on game shows. I clapped my hands, playing along with the idea that I didn’t know they were there. “Yay! Booberries!” I babbled, slapping my hands on the placemat now that my spoon was gone. Morgan can’t take my hands away, I thought with a devilish grin as I waited for my breakfast. The oatmeal was ready in a matter of minutes and I watched impatiently, bouncing in my seat as Morgan walked back with a new plastic bowl of the hearty mush, so fresh off the stove that steam was rising off the top. “Bweakfast! Bweakfast!” “Not yet,” Morgan chided me as she placed the bowl out of my reach. “We need to make sure it’s cool enough so we don’t burn your tongue? You don’t want that, do you?” “No!” I announced, grabbing at my mouth fearfully. “No burn!” “Okay, so how about a banana first?” Morgan said, pulling one out from behind her “Nanna!” I clapped my hands as she peeled it, breaking it off into chunks and placing them on the placemat for me to eat. I grabbed at them with no regard to my strength, mashing them in my hands as I tried putting my hands into my mouth, still holding onto the piece, clumsily getting mashed banana all over my face and hands. “Holly!” Morgan put her hands on her hips, looking at me sternly. “What did I say about messes?” “No mowe?” I looked up at her innocently, gumming at the backside of my index and middle finger. Morgan sighed and got the baby wipes, only taking care of my hands for the time being. Surely she knew I wasn’t going to let my face stay clean either. “That’s right,” she said in a patient, teaching tone as she scrubbed my hands clean. “And no more messes means we have to stay clean. Can you stay clean for me and not get messy anymore?” “Twy,” I answered, whimpering a little bit, resisting the adult idea of responsibility and consequences. “Twy okays?” “Yes,” Morgan said, disposing of the dirty wipes and fetching the airplane spoon from the island counter. “Trying is okay, and Miss Morgan will be very proud of you if you try your best.” “Okays,” I said, doing my best as Morgan placed spoonful after spoonful of creamy warm oatmeal in my mouth. Some of it spilled just as a result of how careful one needs to be when spoon-feeding, but Morgan could tell I really was trying. Only once did she jab the back of my throat with the spoon, which I coughed, spitting some food out on the placemat. “Holly,” she looked at me warily, warning me with her tone. “Was that trying?” “I didn’t do it on purpose!” I blurted out, defending myself. “The spoon hit me in the back of my mouth!” “Oh, Holly,” Morgan said, stroking my hair as I looked at her, afraid of being scolded. “If I do that, let me know, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” I tried not to spend too much time regretting that I didn’t say anything about the painful spoon-feeding sooner. Once I had said something, Morgan did a much more careful job, pausing when she thought the spoon was in enough so I could close my mouth and she could pull the spoon back through my lips. This wasn’t only so much easier for me, but it was even a little fun, smiling at Morgan with little bits of mush on my lips. “Good girl!” Morgan announced, looking at me with excitement that I then mimicked in the fullest. “You ate everything!” Because you didn’t gag me this time, I thought with a bit of an inner smirk as Morgan wiped my face clean and pulled out my chair, setting me loose on the living room to color and listen to music. I didn’t feel like just drawing in the lines today and turned to the back of the coloring book to the last page. The back of the buffer page at the beginning of the book was happily blank. Ripping it out, I began to choose through my crayons carefully, being extra careful as I didn’t have the luxury of erasing sketch lines. “What are you drawing?” Morgan asked, standing over my shoulder all of a sudden. My eyes bulged as I threw myself over the fragile paper, looking up at Morgan with a burning red face. “You can’t look!” I exclaimed. “It’s a surprise!” “Oh,” Morgan said, teasing me by trying to peek through the space between my head and my arms. This only made me more defiant as I tightened myself up as much as I could without crinkling the paper. “Can I see it when you’re done?” “Only if you don’t peek anymore,” I said. Morgan agreed and sat down on the couch, watching TV in full sight of me. I adjusted myself so the only thing she could see if me was my puffy diapered butt. I pretty much went through the entire Crayola rainbow usually spending only a minute or so with each color. I hoped I would be able to smear the colors like paint, but those crayon people were smart with kids and I found they didn’t smudge as easily as I’d like. This made my work more difficult, but also more rewarding once it was finished. It was not my finest work, far from it, but I wanted to believe Morgan’s words from yesterday. I wanted to draw again because it made me happy, and looking at the drawing I had spent the better part of two hours working on, I was proud of it. It was the first thing I had drawn in years that I wanted to show off. Crawling to my feet, ignoring the carpet marks set into my legs, I toddled over to Morgan, holding the picture behind my back. “Miss Morgan! Miss Morgan!” I jumped up and down, shaking the home entertainment system behind me, to which I immediately stopped. “Miss Morgan, I got a surprise for you!” Morgan turned down the volume on the television as she placed the remote down and gave me her full attention, putting her hands on her lap. “What is it, sweetie?” “You gotta close your eyes,” I ordered her. She did as I told promptly. I giggled as the paper rustled as I held it out in front of me, arms fully outstretched and displaying my picture in front of Morgan. “Okay, open them!” Morgan did, and I couldn’t even begin to explain the range of emotions she felt looking at it. It was a fairly simple drawing I thought, not very complex since I couldn’t sketch it out first. I drew myself as a two-year old in a pink sleeper with a hood that made me look like a teddy bear, being held up by Morgan as she was currently, spinning me around in the middle of a baby pink nursery, both of us with the biggest smiles on our faces, with little curling arrows pointing out which one was “me” and “Miss Morgan”. At the top, scrawled in large crude letters: I LUV YU, MISS MORGAN Morgan took the picture from me, holding it carefully in her hands as she looked over the picture and all its meanings. I held my hands behind my back, bending in and out as I waited to be told what she thought of it, expecting nothing but praise. “Do you like it?” I prompted impatiently. Morgan sat there with the picture in her lap for a few moments before closing her eyes and nodding feverishly. Reaching her hands up, she took mine and pulled me close. “Come here, kiddo,” she sniffled, hugging me tightly at the sign of full appreciation for her and all she was capable of. I blushed in her embrace, hugging her back as she continued to pat and rub my back until she let go. “That was a very nice surprise,” she said, wiping the beginning of tears from her eyes as she got up from the couch. “I think such a pretty picture calls for a very yummy lunch.” “Yummy!” I jumped up and down a little, following Morgan to the kitchen as she folded up the picture and placed it in her purse for safekeeping. Turning around, she scooted me back to the living room. “Can you be my good girl and clean up your crayons while Miss Morgan makes lunch?” Morgan asked me. Of course I wanted to be a good girl, so I smiled with a really big grin, nodding and scampering back to the living room, toppling over on the floor, making everything in the room shake and rattle. “Easy there, baby girl!” Morgan called out from the kitchen as she got out some plates. “Good girls don’t run around like wild animals.” “I know!” I called as I quietly cleaned up my coloring supplies, making sure everything was in the plastic bin and the lid sealed on tight. I pretended to grunt and heave as I “tried” to lift the bin and carry it back to the laundry room slowly and carefully. Morgan turned around from her preparations, smiling as she took out some slices of bread from the bag on the counter. “Are you putting them away for me?” Morgan asked, as if it wasn’t something I could normally do. “What good manners! I think I’ll get someone a treat with their lunch.” I giggled excitedly as I put the plastic bin away in the top cabinet of the laundry room as I headed back to the kitchen, pulling out my chair and sitting myself down. I tried to pull myself in, bouncing the chair up and down until Morgan came up to me and pushed me in. “It’s okay to ask for help, sweetie. That’s what I’m here for.” “I know,” I said with a cute little lilt as Morgan placed lunch in front of me: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cup of applesauce, a sippy cup of milk, and an… oatmeal chocolate chip cookie! I reached for the cookie instinctively, only to hear the gentle scold of Morgan’s voice. “Ah ah ah,” she warned me. “Not until you eat the rest of your lunch.” I smiled, reaching for my sandwich. It was a whole sandwich and I frowned a bit. It looked too big for a little girl like me and I held it up to Morgan, dissatisfied. “What’s the matter, Holly?” she asked. “Is something wrong with your sandwich?” “Too big,” I muttered softly. Morgan smiled, patting my head and got up from the table. She returned with a knife and cut the sandwich into quarters so I could eat them more easily. I took one of the quarters and began to nibble on it. “Miss Morgan, why do I get a sandwich?” “Because you’re going to be a big girl soon,” Morgan said, resting her chin in her hands as she watched me intently. She was right, it was getting to noon and I’d have to start cleaning up and get ready for Mom and Dad to get home that evening. As glad as I was about how things turned out with Morgan, I did not want to go through it again with my parents. As I ate my applesauce like I was supposed to, dribbling only the tiniest bit, I placed my spoon down, looking down at the rest of my lunch nervously as I felt a rumble in my tummy, just like the one yesterday morning. “Holly, is something wrong?” Morgan asked, placing her hand on top of mine. I looked away. It wasn’t like doing it yesterday made it any less embarrassing, but Morgan took my hand and squeezed it tight, and I knew I couldn’t just ignore her. “Holly, do you have to potty?” I nodded softly, wincing as I squirmed on the kitchen chair. Morgan took the spoon away, pulling my lunch back and holding both my hands. “I’m right here, sweetie,” she told me comfortingly as my face turned red. “Just go ahead, and I’ll change you as soon as you’re done.” “But my cookie…” I whined with the one-track mind only a toddler could have. “Will I still get my cookie?” “Of course you will,” Morgan cooed as she held my hands tightly. “Just relax. I’m right here. Nothing bad is going to happen. You trust me, don’t you?” I nodded quietly as I did my best to relax, focusing only on the warmth of Morgan’s hands as my tummy bubbled and tightened. Feeling the pressure, I let my body coax it out naturally, but my eyes widened as the natural progression of my body filled up more than I expected. Very rude sounds not associated with good girls rose from beneath my seat. I could have sworn I felt my bottom rising off the chair as the slimy warm mess poured out of me. Morgan’s calming, accepting smile seemed to sink as I looked downward with tremendous hesitation. “Morgan,” I announced, moving only the slightest and feeling the mess shift. “I think I made the Top 10.” Morgan looked at me like she didn’t believe me until the smell reached her nose. “Oh, oh god,” she gasped as she waved her hand frantically in front of her face. “Downstairs, downstairs now.” “But my cookie,” I whined. Morgan took the cookie with us as we went downstairs to get changed, checking all the while down the staircase to make sure I wasn’t leaking out the sides. Fortunately, the Bambino was holding up nicely even if it didn’t feel like it. Spreading the changing mat out on the floor, she made sure the diaper would only touch the mat once it was opened before returning to my room for my diapering supplies. Arms full upon return, Morgan spread the various tools of the task before her, and sighed as she stared at my diaper, tinted just the faintest bit of brown at the seat. “Alright, let’s do this.” “Cookie,” I interrupted her as she began to tear the tapes off, reaching for the cookie over by the bottle of powder. “Can you wait until I’m done?” Morgan asked, tickling my sides, but all I did was squirm and reach further over. “Cookie!” I squirmed and reached, nearly turning over with my diaper half-open. Morgan panicked and reached out to grab my waist and turn me back over. I guess it must have been bad if she was that worried about it spilling out. She didn’t even think twice to hand me my cookie to nibble on while she changed me. As the diaper came down, so did the smell of it rise up, hitting us both in the nose. It almost made eating the cookie a bad thing, almost. I was able to bear with the smell as the wipes came out over and over again as Morgan lifted my legs and began to wash my diaper places nice and clean. As the change progressed, I noticed Morgan didn’t seem all that phased. Halfway through my cookie, I pouted a little bit as she spread my legs and started to clean my nethers. “Not a Top 10?” Morgan chuckled, cleaning my lips with a delicate touch. “You really want to know what a Top 10 is?” I nodded, wriggling around a bit as Morgan scooted over to me and bent down, whispering the details in my ears. My smile of curiosity quickly turned to a look of abject disgust and horror. “No!” I gasped, nearly dropping my cookie. “That’s disgusting! Little kids actually…” “Yes,” Morgan laughed, now that I knew the awful truth. “Still think you could make the Top 10?” “I’ll pass,” I sighed, finishing my cookie. “That’s my girl,” Morgan said as she pulled the dirty diaper from my bottom and replaced it with a fresh one. I giggled as she powdered me heavily, to the point once the diaper was taped up and she patted my bottom to signal me to get up, that some powder clouds escaped. “Mmm,” Morgan said, patting my diaper again. “Someone smells pretty for their nap?” “Already?” I panicked, sitting up as Morgan wrapped up the dirty diaper and cleaned her hands with a wipe. “But it feels like…” “It went fast, didn’t it?” Morgan said, helping me to my feet. “Almost too fast.” I nodded, sucking my thumb and pouting as I was led to my bedroom and tucked tightly into bed. Morgan made sure I had Abba and smoothed the covers. “Do you need anything?” “Paci,” I mumbled. Morgan nodded and got my pacifier, placing it in my mouth, stroking my hair to help me sleep. “I’m going to go clean up so Mom and Dad don’t know what happened,” Morgan told me as I closed my eyes. “I have to go after that, so I’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up. Are you going to be okay?” I nodded softly, even though I really didn’t want Morgan to go. I wanted her to stay forever. I didn’t want our parents to come home. I wanted to live here with her in this state of bliss for the rest of my life, even knowing that in a few hours, I will be right back to wanting to grow up, but right now, I wouldn’t mind if time just stopped. “I think so,” I said, encouraging Morgan to think I would be okay, but I wasn’t only concerned about myself. “What about you?” Morgan sighed, pulling her hand away and looking away from me wistfully. “There are still some things I need to consider, but having you in my corner makes me feel a little better.” I reached my own hand out to Morgan, stroking her hair the same way she stroked mine. I guess we really do imitate the things that we see in the way we know they make us feel. Morgan turned back to me, smiling but looking like she was about ready to cry herself. “I’m here for you whenever you need it,” I told her, sincere as I could possibly be. “And I you,” Morgan replied, reminding me who the caretaker was and who was the baby girl. “I love you, big little sister. Sweet dreams.” I blushed as I snuggled deep under my covers as Morgan kissed me on the forehead. “I love you too, little big sister. Thank you for everything.” She closed the door slowly, lingering on one final look of me as her baby girl before she left me to my nap. Because of the lack of sleep the night before and all the excitement of the morning, my dreams found me far more easily this time and with much more happiness. There wasn’t much about the dream, other than Morgan and I were playing in the backyard rolling a ball across to one another. It was so simple, but so comforting. I think it was the first time I thought of my sister as more than someone I was bound to by blood. She was so much more, and I felt so thankful that I was able to see so many sides of my sister this weekend, and made me feel more close to her than I had ever been with her before. The dream did not last long, as the constant sunlight through the blinds made my nap a short but refreshing one. As I got up out of bed I looked around only to see all my supplies were packed in their boxes with a small note that read “Hide them ASAP” I giggled and moved them deep into my closet as I left my room. The basement smelled like lavender, and I guessed Morgan had Febreezed the carpet and the ottoman after my final change. Walking upstairs felt strange without Morgan’s guidance, but I managed as I reached the top. The kitchen and living room were immaculate. Mom and Dad wouldn’t suspect a thing. There was only one thing I noticed that wasn’t taken care of. Twinkle, my Happy Meal toy, was sitting on the corner of the island on top of a folded piece of paper. Lifting her up, I noticed my name was written on the paper in Morgan’s handwriting. Unfolding it, I read what it had to say Dear Holly, I’ll make this short because I really don’t know what else to say at this point that I haven’t already. I meant everything. You are so much more than you think you are. I don’t want you to limit yourself to who you can become, and I won’t limit myself either. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever I do, it will be because I made that choice myself, and I want the same for you. Unlike me though, you don’t have to make a choice. Nobody will ask you to be one thing or be the other. You can be you. You have a freedom I would give the world for right now… Holly, don’t limit yourself and don’t be ashamed of where you are in life. You may have fallen down, but just like any baby girl learning to walk, you should know to get right back up with that big adorable smile of yours. I believe in you, big little sister. I love you. - Morgan I held the letter in my hands for a letter with Twinkle, reading it over and over. In the empty, silent house, alone with nothing but me and all my thoughts, I held Twinkle in between my hands and squeezed them together like a prayer. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but with Morgan by my side, I knew I would find myself someday. The End
  8. The best thing? Shining a bright warm light on what it means to like diapers and regression and to tell people that, deep down, it's okay and you're okay.
  9. Question about baby wipes

    They were introduced in the mid-to-late 70s, but they didn't get really popular until the mid-to-late 80s. The things you know when something is an involuntary obsession since pre-school.
  10. Question about baby wipes

    Add my voice to the other calls for Parent's Choice Fresh Scent. You won't find a baby wipe that smells so nostalgic anywhere else in the states
  11. Oh yeah, I'm sure passive-aggressiveness is gonna sell copies The "A" in "ABDL" stands for adult, so maybe try acting like one.
  12. ABU ending free shipping

    I consider myself lucky as I only buy a half-case once a year and supplement with Goodnites, so this does not affect me terribly much, but for those who go 24/7 I imagine this is a huge blow.
  13. Twin Cities Meetup

    Yes, the group is still around. All of their events and meet-ups are organized through FetLife
  14. Advice for stomach pain?

    There's no need to go to the doctor for stomach pain unless you are throwing up and/or have severe pain. If it's a persistent tummy-ache, it's likely something you can deal with yourself. When it's on the left side for me, it's usually gas. I made the mistake (twice) of going to urgent care for pain in the lower left part of my abdomen and both times it has been trapped gas. 2-3 fiber brownies later and I was fine.
  15. What is everyones diaper wish

    Oh goodness... my diapered wish for Christmas is that daddy lets me go poo poo in my diapers. That would be a holiday to remember