The first two parts of Eleven are here:
We were the best of friends. We played house, doctors, jump rope and all the other games children played. She taught me Australianisms and I taught her how to fit in. She was my best and only friend. One day though, I was curious.
"Sarah, can I ask you a question?"
"When I first came over to your house, you were... uh... wearing a diaper. Why were you?"
She bit her lip and looked down at her shoelaces.
"Um, err, I... I don't know. I started bedwetting when I was five. Mum changed the sheets for a while, but eventually sat me down and asked if I wanted to wear nappies. I was a little scared, but she said it would be okay. I kind of fell into the, uh, feeling. Why do you want to know?" she asked, trying to remain composed.
"It's just that... it was a little weird. I haven't touched a diaper since I was three. And... you call them Mommy and Daddy. Like a baby. You're not a baby anymore, right Sarah?"
She looked at me with anger, but eyes filled with tears. She was afraid.
"No. Why do you care? You're my friend. Friends don't call their friends weird. I'm not a baby! Nobody thinks that!" she snapped.
I tried to apologize, but she had already stormed off. She ran to the bathroom, slammed the door and wept for the next hour. I didn't see her for the rest of the day.
The next day, she arrived happy. She was dressed in a new skirt, top and had her hair moved to a flowing ponytail.
"Hey, Michael. Like my new outfit? Mumm- I mean, Mum bought it for me."
I took in the new look. She was prettier, more adult-ish. She swung her skirt around, trying to show off herself. When I couldn't figure it out, she pointed at her bottom.
"No nappy! Mum and I talked last night. I'm going to be a big girl now, Michael! No more baby girl Sarah!"
I nodded, but didn't quite understand. I didn't have time to ask further, as old British Mrs Nesbitt was opening her morning lecture.
"Hello class. Please take a seat, all of you. It's time to start our English study. But before we do, let's welcome a new student to our class. Class, please welcome a new girl. I want you all to meet Jessica Hembrook."
Oh, goodness, Jessica Hembrook. Even now, as I type on this keyboard, I still feel the anger in my soul. Of what she did to me. To Sarah.
She walked in, all posh and know-it-all. She wore clothes far outside the dress code, on the expensive rich little snitch end of the spectrum. A golden laced silver skirt, a striped fabric I couldn't name but heard of somewhere in a fashion magazine and a face that screamed of bossy ownership. She pointed to a seat next to Sarah.
"Next to Beach Blonde, Mrs Nesbitt."
The teacher granted her request and allowed five minutes of greeting. Sarah leaned over to her.
"Hi, I'm Sarah. Pleased to meet you, I know what it's like to be new and need some friends."
She looked at her in slight disgust.
"I think I won't be making your acquaintance, Sarah."
Sarah looked at her in confusion. She tried to draw some words, but found none.
Jessica turned to face her.
"Oh, there are several reasons. I, for one, am very certainly focused on the American way. You know, liberty and freedom? Something I am sure your pathetic little Australian mind couldn't possibly comprehend. Take for instance, your history against the fine ways of the American history. The Australian population was originally composed of penal colonies, criminals. How poorly the British nation must have thought of you, submitting you to a land so isolated it was deemed empty and barren. They planned for your people to die out in the wilderness, but somehow you built a society so heartless and cruel they deemed others of the land to be lower than dirt. How could I possibly concern myself with a society that stole the children of innocent people, the owners of the land? Also, take your language. A hopeless derivative of British and American English that invents so many non-existing and ridiculous words for creatures and activities no other society would dare make, taking the gloriously crafted English language and caking pathetic renditions of unutterable sets of syllables on it. So I dare not infect myself or taint my social circle with a corrupted and twisted society of infantile and mindless losers who can only beg that they be accepted by the great American way. Please, run back to your pathetic band of hopeless thieves and drunkards and leave us fine Americans to lead the world in every way, as we already do."
Sarah's jaw hanged out. She began to tear up, then dropped her head onto her desk and tried to cry silently. Failing that, she stood up and ran out of the classroom. I chased after her.
"Sarah! Just ignore her, she's stupid. Don't cry. She's evil, she-"
"SHE'S RIGHT!" she screamed. "I'm just a pathetic Australian girl who should just go away. Look at me! I don't belong here! I'm pathetic and-"
She stopped as urine flowed down her legs. She looked at me, and, embarrassed, ran screaming out the door and into the yard.
"Eww, she peed herself. What are you looking at? Why are you sticking with Beach Blonde? She just wet herself like a little baby girl. Baby girl, baby girl!" Jessica followed the trail, yelling out after the child.
Mrs Nesbitt stood up.
"Class, get back in your seats now! That includes you, Jessica! What did you do, Jessica? Why is she crying?"
She looked up at the teacher with innocent eyes.
"She said I was ugly and didn't belong here. I told her she should be nicer, but she told me to go away and never come back. So I told her off, like my mother does when my little brother is rude to her."
Mrs Nesbitt crossed her arms.
"What did you say?"
"That she was mean and should sit in the corner. She said she wasn't a baby, and I couldn't tell her what to do. But it seems that she pees herself like a baby, so I don't know what to think."
"I don't think that's what happened. You and your parents are going to talk to me today after school. Now, I'd ask you to apologise to Sarah but she has run away. I'm going to call her parents, and I want you to think about what you've done."
Sarah had already found her parents. Her mother was at the local bank, that happened to sit a few blocks away from our school. She ran up to her, blubbering.
"Sarah, what are you doing here? Aren't you meant to be in school?"
She was wailing.
"Mummy, Mummy, help me! I'm sorry I want to be a grown up like you. I want to be a baby, Mummy! Cuddle me and love me! We're not criminals, I know it!"
"What are you talking about? Settle down for a moment, honey, let's talk."
Trixie sat down and took her daughter in her arms.
"There's a new girl in class, and she said we were pathetic and bad and stole and broke English and I was a baby."
"What? Who said that? What did she mean?"
"Jessica. She said Australians are bad and stole things and were sent to Australia to teach them a lesson. But you said Australians were the luckiest people in the world. We're good, aren't we Mummy?"
"Yes, we are. Why was she calling you a baby?"
"I wet myself. Mummy, you were right. I don't want to grow up, I want to be a little girl forever and ever. Put me in nappies, Mummy, please!" she cried. Other mothers stared at Trixie and the eleven year old crying like a toddler.
"Okay, settle down. Come on, let's go home and talk about this. Actually, we should go to the school and talk to Mrs Nesbitt, okay?"
She buried her face in her mother's breast.
"No, Mummy! Not school, ever again! School is for big kids and I'm little! See-" she stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked hard and loud. "I'm little! Little girl! Mummy's little girl! Baby! I'm a baby!"
Trixie sat down to see her daughter at eye level.
"Sarah, you're okay. You're okay. You are not a baby. You're my big eleven year old girl who goes to school and has friends. Remember Michael? He likes you because you are a big girl, not a baby. Come on, honey, let's talk in the car."
Sarah stood there crying, but let her mother finish her investment and took her out to the car. She opened the door and placed Sarah on the passenger seat, closed the door, then came around into the driver's seat.
"Okay, Sarah. What's going on? What did Jessica do, exactly?"
"I-I tried to say hello, and she yelled at me."
"What did she say?"
"That Australians are criminals and stole things and were sent there to be nicer. But we hurt the Aboriginals and treated them like dirt and stole the babies. We didn't do that, did we?"
Trixie took in a breath. Was she ready to know about the Stolen Generation?
"A long time ago, the Australian government took away some children of Aboriginal Australians who were told they were bad parents. The government taught them how to be what they thought was normal. We call those people the 'Stolen Generation'."
"It-it's true? They took away babies? What if I was an Aboriginal baby then, would I have been stolen? Would they have taken me away from you and Daddy?"
She tried to calm herself, but she knew this was a hard thing. Even she couldn't explain this. She had done everything to prove to her little girl that the world was fair, that everyone was good. Now she had to show her the real world.
"Honey, they wouldn't have. Because it was a long time ago, and they realised their mistake. It was a bad time for Aboriginal Australians. I'm sorry that you had to find that out the hard way. But Sarah, it's all over. Aboriginals have better rights now. Like Jessica Mauboy, that singer? She's Aboriginal. She is loved by a lot of people all over the world, because the government realised they made a mistake. They are safe now. Those babies can live happily with their mummies now, because it stopped. Honey, it's okay. What else did Jessica say?"
"She said I was a baby because I wet myself."
Trixie felt the emotion wave over her, anger and deep sadness. Countless memories of children laughing and pointing at her filled her head. She took her daughter into her arms.
"Baby, you're not a- Sarah, you're not a baby. Remember this morning? Dry. You are a big girl. Look at you. Do you think you are a baby? Look-" she pointed out her hands and thin figure. "big girl. And all kids have accidents now and then. Did you know that I used to?"
Sarah rubbed her eyes and looked at her mother.
"Yeah. Grandma didn't like it. She used to beat me for it. I never stopped wetting until I was fifteen. I just stopped then. We all grow at different rates, honey. And just because you need nappies doesn't make you a baby. There are lots of grown ups who wear nappies."
Trixie stopped for a second. Oh, goodness, did she almost reveal her... No, better stop. If she wants that, she'll find it herself. She's normal.
"Uh, people with bad bladders. Incontinent people. Usually old people."
"Grandpa's not that old. Very, very old people, darling. Or..."
"Or who, Mummy?"
"Or normal people with broken bladders. Like you, honey. Do you find it hard to control your wees, darling? It's okay to say yes."
"No, Mummy. I can control myself fine."
A stone of guilt hit her stomach. Trixie felt fear fill her heart.
"You... can control yourself? So you pretend?"
"Yes. I like the feeling of being a baby. Is that wrong, Mummy?"
"No. Let's go home, honey, I don't feel very well. Get in the back seat, Sarah, we're going home."
Sarah obeyed her mother. She didn't understand why her mum was upset though. Acting like a baby was okay, right? Surely?
"John, what have I done wrong? Why is she going this way?"
Trixie was venting to her husband in the bedroom.
"Do you think she found anything? I mean, we're so careful, but... What if she found my stash? What if I've been babying her too much? What if-"
John spoke calmly. "She hasn't found anything, honey, I'm sure. She would tell us right away. And she loves you very much. I'm sure it's the attention she gets out if it."
"But what if she found something? Maybe she went through my drawers and found my baby dummy. She probably sucked it herself and enjoyed the feeling. Oh God, what have I done?"
She sat down on the bed next to her husband.
"It's bad enough I'm this way, but Sarah? I can't go through that again. She can't go through that. I'm her mum, I won't let her."
"Honey, you're overreacting. She's only eleven, there's plenty of time to wean her off this. And if she is ABDL, so what? You know they come through whether their parents allow it or not. We have to support her, love."
"But I forced her into this. If I had been a little stricter, I..."
Her husband took her by the arms and pulled her onto his lap.
"You didn't force anything, sweetie. And she is normal. Look at her, she's eleven years old. She likes books and High School Musical and Doctor Who and Minecraft. She's normal. You are a great mother. Why won't you believe that?"
"I- I just want her to be happy. I want her to be happier than I was. I want her to have a family, a nice husband, a few kids. Not some nappy-loving freak like I am. Oh, Daddy." She began crying into her husband's shoulder, and nursing her thumb in her mouth. He removed her thumb and hugged her close.
"Honey, you are not a nappy-loving freak. You're worried she can't be normal if she's ABDL. But look at you. You're a kind, lovely mother of a sweet eleven year old daughter and a great wife. You have kept several jobs and are a perfectly healthy woman. And guess what, Trixie? You're an adult baby. But you keep it in check, you take care of the house and raise our daughter and pay the bills and go out to movies. You are a very normal woman, Trixie. Sarah and I know that, and we love you for the amazing woman you are."
Trixie nodded and sucked back her tears.
"I am a big girl, aren't I?"
"Yes you are, my love. Have a cuddle, big girl Trixie."
He laid back and pulled his wife back with him. He grabbed her by the waist and drew her into his embrace. She cried and wrapped herself around her husband.
"Big girl, big girl."
Half an hour passed. John Cassidy gently shifted his wife onto the bed beside him. She curled up into a ball and sucked her thumb. She was in little mode again.
He sat up and pulled the blanket over her. She moaned quietly. He pondered whether to diaper her or let her sleep. She was rather regressed, and would probably wet herself in her sleep. But did he want to wake her? She was so calm, so peaceful. Escaping to a world where she had no responsibilities, where even going to the toilet was taken care of. He wished he could understand what it was like for her.
He stepped quietly out of bed and went over to the closet. He shifted out her neatly arranged dresses and shoes, and pulled out a small locked container. Dust was forming over the lock. Yeah, Sarah had no idea.
He wondered about his daughter as he unlocked the box. Could she be an infantilist? Could her mother have passed on the DNA codes of an adult baby? He had never read anything about such a thing online. But adult babies were so poorly documented online, anything was possible. He looked down fondly at the sight he saw.
The box contained the key baby things she needed, as well as some art. A few photographs of Trixie in littlespace, sucking a bottle and watching telly. He took out one of his favourites, a photo of her in a nappy and a T-shirt with the word BABY written across the front. She was smiling, about to blow out a vanilla cake with a single special candle, a big '1'. She was so happy. So beautiful.
It wasn't just her little side's imaginary birthday, either. It was their first anniversary. He had planned it out, very specially. He had rented out a local hotel and hired some temporary AB materials for her to indulge in. He had it all ready a week in advance. The hotel owner had given him permission to paint the room a sweet baby girl pink, as it was about to be turned into a playroom anyway. A large dragon plushie sat in the corner, a stack of nappies, her favourite kind, a box of toys, wooden with a painted teddy bear on it containing a range of toys, all girly, from old Barbies to newborn My First Teddies. The star of the room was a large crib, furnished with soft bedding and a sweet Play School blankie. A changing table sat on the other side of the room, although she probably wasn't going to use it as she was terrified of heights in her little mode. Her favourite toy was sitting on a rocking chair that could support both their weights, a little Jessie doll she held over from her childhood. He had a tall table set up that had adult-sized baby bottles, as well as a small tape player that was already holding a nursery CD, but there was a selection of other baby CDs if she wanted. Everything was designed for her, even the rug was a nursery print. It was the least she deserved.
He had a camera set up to film every moment. She was a little camera shy, he already knew that, but hoped when she got into it she would be okay. He started the evening with a short dinner at Marco's pizzeria, the place he had first seen her. She was on the bad end of a date blowoff and was depressed. He offered her dinner, and things went from there.
She recognised the place immediately. She was so happy, she kissed him and told him this was the best date ever. He quietly whispered that she had no idea, and led her to her seat. They talked for a while, discussing their first date. After half an hour, he revealed it to her.
"Trixie, I want you to know that I love you very much. You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and I want to show that to you. So, we will not be staying here. I have a surprise for you. Baby."
He emphasised the last word, took her hand and led her out of the restaurant. He walked her to his car and opened the door for her.
"John, what are you doing? I'm not having sex with you, if that's what you're trying to say."
"I'm not going to have sex with you, Trixie. I'm going to show you my love for you."
She didn't understand, but let him drive her away. When they approached the hotel, she shuddered.
"I... I'm not having sex with you. Don't you dare try it, John. We are waiting til marriage, we agreed."
"Honey, I promise I'm not going to have sex with you. You'll have to see. But I promise, if we have sex you can throw me away and hit me and beat me up and hate me. Because it is not going to happen, I swear on your life."
She was still worried, but let him guide her into the lobby. The owner's eyes lit up when he saw Trixie.
"Good evening, Madame. You arrived just on time. Please, follow me. Don't look so worried, Madam, it will be all right."
They stood at the door. She took a protective stance behind him and asked for a promise not to have sex. He reassured her, kissing her on the forehead.
He swung open the door. She looked inside, and her fear turned to amazement, then tears.
"Oh, John, I love you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is... Oh my, I love you! How did you? Oh, John, thank you so so so so much! John, I love it, I love you! Oh, you wonderful, oh my..." she exclaimed. She walked in, taking in the sights and smells and tried to memorise everything. She fell to the floor.
"Do you like it? I've been planning this for a month now. I remember when you told me you liked the feeling of being a baby, and I wanted to spoil you. Are you happy?"
She turned to face him. Her eyes were turning younger and younger every second.
"Daddy perfect!" she exclaimed.
He walked in and sat on his knees next to her.
"We have all night, baby. You and me, Daddy and his angel. You can be whoever you want to be tonight. And I knew you wanted to be little."
She looked up at him, mouth open. She was at the lowest age she could make herself, a useless newborn. He took a nappy from the corner.
"Baby needs a nappy on, doesn't she? Daddy is so happy, it's like Daddy just had a baby. What are you smiling about, huh? Is baby girl happy?" He said to his newly regressed girlfriend. She was so happy, she couldn't say anything, just roll softly on her back and lick her lips.
He removed her skirt and underwear. The baby had a tampon in, that he quickly removed. She giggled.
"What's so funny, baby girl? Is Daddy doing something silly? Is he?"
She laughed more as he gently tickled her belly. He finished diapering her and lay down next to her.
"What do you want to do, baby princess? Wanna play? Or listen to some nursery music? Or just cuddle up to Daddy?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to softly cry. He pulled a dummy out of his pocket and popped it in her mouth. She pulled herself as close to him as she could get.
"Baby, baby, baby. Have a quick nighty night, baby girl. Daddy is right here."
John snapped out of the memory and took the nappies out of the box. He walked over and lay his wife ready for a change.
"Baby, baby, baby." he said to himself.
He wasn't sure what to do. Was Sarah a teen baby? It was certainly possible. Trixie herself confessed that she first liked the feeling of
nappies when she was ten. But it wasn't her mother's fault. Some people were wired differently, she said when she first came out to
him. She just was wired to enjoy diapers.
He rolled his hand over his wife's sleeping body. She certainly looked like a child, lying in a wonky position drawing saliva off her thumb. She was dreaming, rolling her
waist around inside the large disposable diaper and moaning from the sensation. Trixie was an adult baby.
But so was his daughter, if Trixie was right. If Sarah was an AB, what would he tell her? If he had no knowledge of infantilism, the
answer would have been easy. But he couldn't condemn his daughter if his wife was just as guilty. It wasn't right. She deserved to be just as happy as her mother was.
But if she wasn't, was he a bad parent? Was he fostering an unhealthy desire in her that she didn't have? Was he forcing her to be something she wasn't?
Then there was school. Sarah had been happy to be in pull ups at school, but as she grew older, so would her bladder. She was exempt from the
no diaper rule the school had because of the doctor's certificate. But that was issued when she was four. Had she outgrown her bed wetting and they were now
hurting her to satisfy their own desires?
Thousands of questions filled his head. But none bothered him as much as the 'am I a bad father' question. It was the question he couldn't answer,
and that bothered him most of all.
Deciding he needed more information, he covered his wife in blankets and gave her a teddy bear to cuddle in
his absence. She was a beautiful woman, and an even more beautiful baby girl. She had been through a lot;
nobody but him accepted her for the way she was. It was understandable she didn't want her daughter to go through it as well.
He took a moment to watch her before he closed the door. She was adorable, little baby Trixie. He saw a smile come
to her face as she let her bladder fill the diaper. He closed the door.
"What's wrong with Mummy, Daddy?" asked a small voice behind him.
He turned around a little too quickly and snapped the lock on the door closed.
"Nothing, sweetie. Do you want something, Sarah?"
"What's wrong with Mummy? Why did you close the door so fast? Is she sick? Did I hurt her?"
He moved down to her eye level.
"She's not sick. Just very tired. Let's leave Mummy alone for a while and we can go have some dinner, okay?"
She nodded. She too was cute, wearing a hooded onesie and had a small bulge around her waist. She had diapered herself, and made a real mess of it. She was in her own littlespace, granted a much smaller littlespace. But was it really a little standing before him?
She took his hand as he led her into the kitchen. She dragged her old highchair from the corner to the table. John wanted to stop her, but couldn't. She was too damn cute. After they finished a dinner of toasted bread and butter, John finally wanted to know.
"Honey, what were you and Mum talking about in the car?"
He was careful to talk to her at her real eleven year old level.
"A girl at school was mean to me and called me a baby. Mummy said that some grown ups wear nappies and that I wasn't a baby if I wear them. I asked what kind of grown ups wear nappies. She said normal people with broken bladders, and asked if I was like that and I said no, I could control myself but liked the feeling of being a baby. She seemed upset after that." she explained. The girl was clueless about the social awkwardness of an adult in diapers, clearly.
"Okay. Well honey, Mum is a little scared that you might enjoy the feeling of wearing nappies. Do you like them?"
"What do you mean, Daddy?"
"Well, a lot of people will find it strange that you are wearing nappies at your age. Most people think that children should be out of nappies by two, and never turn back. The only exception is if they are incontinent, or unable to control their bladder. Do you like the feeling of wearing a nappy even though you don't need it?"
"I need my nappies. What are you saying, Daddy? I can't wear nappies anymore?" she asked, beginning to cry.
"Why do you feel you need to wear nappies, darling? They are for babies, after all."
She looked at him in the eye.
"I thought I was your baby, Daddy."
He exhaled hard. Why was this so difficult? She should be... oh wait, hold on. If she's crying at the thought of losing her diapers, that meant she had an attachment to them.
"You are, love. I mean, when Mummy puts a nappy on you, how do you feel?"
"I feel like a baby again, Daddy."
"Why do you like feeling like a baby, Sarah?"
She looked up at her father in fear. She could sense discipline coming, and didn't like it.
"Because I feel wittle, Daddy. Wittle baby girl."
"Okay, honey. Let's go up and fix your nappy. I think baby needs a sleep."
She smiled and held out her arms to be carried. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. There wasn't a lot of baby stuff in here, just a large chest of drawers she was usually changed on, a box of girl's toys in the corner and a single bed with a Disney princess cover over it. If she was AB, and he was starting to think she was, she'd want a lot more than just this. He lay his daughter on the bed and untaped the diaper. She bit her lip.
"I'm not in trouble?" she asked nervously.
"No, darling. If you want to act like a baby, you can act like a baby. Mummy and I won't force you not to."
He smiled at her.
"Because we love you very much, sweetie. And we understand."
He aligned the diaper properly and retaped it. He put her to bed and kissed her forehead.
"Goodnight, baby girl. Sweet dreams."