ozziebee

I'm finding it difficult to read this story. Not because of its comments, but purely because I can't find the story itself in amongst 20 pages of unrelated posts.

I had the best fun at Christmas. All four kids got lego for Christmas from their respective parents and I. Christmas morning, I woke up in a wet nappy, we opened all the presents, and then for the next three or four hours, I sat at the table in my PJ's and an increasingly wet nappy building the lego for the kids. They didn't know I was wearing a nappy, of course. So we all had fun, building and playing with the sets. You don't necessarily need to buy Duplo to play with lego - buy the sets you want, and build and play and imagine. Get that kiddo spark back!

I'm at a stage now Mark, just within the last few days actually, where I'm feeling almost constant urges, and almost constant tiny releases. If I stand up, I'll wet. Two nights ago, I woke up to what I thought was the end of a wet. Then that afternoon(Sunday), I had a sleep, had just changed my nappy, and about 3 hours later woke up to a wet butt. I had to change about three hours later as I'd soaked that nappy. Then last night, I was being woken up to these tiny releases all night. They're not squirts, just the odd drop or two, but fairly constant. I would wake up to a fair bit of pain then too. Today, all day, I've been getting the same tiny little releases, at work into my nappy, and now sitting in front of the computer typing this out, same thing. Conversely, I'm finding that my wetting in bed is getting harder and harder. Same with wetting whilst lying on the lounge. And I directly attribute this to my weak bladder and/or strictures. It's getting to the stage where the bladder really can't start evacuating without gravity support. Lying down, i'm finding it hard to start a wee now. I have to relax more and more and more. I'm really excited for these developments though. Only last week was I lamenting not having gone anywhere continence-wise. Fast-forward, and bam I've crossed another bridge without even thinking of it. Have I crossed the line yet? I don't know. Yes, I have a medical problem causing my IC, but I've come to actually enjoy this experience, see nappies and the sensations and lack of control as part of me. i'd be really disappointed in myself if I had to "go back". Keep up the reports, I enjoy reading yours.

Sorry for the delay with this Chapter. Have had life issues intervene, along with some writer's block. Please keep the comments coming. I enjoy reading them, and comments spur me on to writing more of the next chapter. ## Chapter 8 - Conflict I felt a kick against my leg, just a tap really, but still enough of a touch to begin my withdrawal from the enveloping fog of sleep and dreams. I squirmed, and took a few unconscious sucks against the pacifier lodged fast between my toothless gums. Slowly opening an eye, I looked straight up at the mobile above the cot. It was still, though the characters hanging from it jiggled around from vibrations emanating from within my cot. My senses detected slight movements in the mattress, though my body was still, totally relaxed, devoid of even a twitch. The wooden cot creaked softly. As I became more alert to my surrounds, I heard a squeak from the foot of the cot, a shifting of position. My peripheral vision noticed a bear move, so I looked at it, in awe of a dream seemingly so vivid and magical that even my toys were alive! But alas, I soon noticed a human hand move, tiny fingers grasping, purple-covered fingernails glinting in the morning twilight. My sense of being immerced within a dream shattered as I realised someone else was in the cot with me. I let out a yawn, and spat out the pacifier, causing more movement at the foot of the bed. Slowly, a human head appeared from behind the bear. I recognised Little Annabelle. Her blonde hair was wrapped up into a bun, her soft and slightly pudgy baby face dominated by a pink pacifier, her cheeks a rosy reddish glow. She was wearing a plain baby-pink footed romper. Every movement elicited a plastic crinkle. She sat at the end of the cot, partially hidden by the bear sitting between her legs, the bear itself being almost her own size. She was leaning against it, cuddling it, her chin resting on its shoulder, her head turned sideways, her deep blue eyes looking directly at me. I giggled at the cute scene, eliciting a smile from an otherwise tired face. Behind her, stuffed into a corner of the cot were the rest of my plushies and dolls. She’d obviously rummaged through them to rescue the bear, which must have been the movements I sensed. She just laid against the bear for some minutes, using it as a pillow, absently suckling away on her paci, examining my face, smiling. Her face would sometimes change to a slight grimace of pain, a tiny grunt, then she’d return to smiling. After studying me for a few more minutes, Annabelle let go of the bear, and gingerly crawled towards me. She lifted the blanket and sheet, which caused some goosebumps on my skin from exposure to the cool morning air, and settled in next to me, re-covering us both up. She retrieved my pacifier, and offered it up to me, so I opened my mouth, and in it went. Annabelle then gave me a tiny kiss on my nose, and snuggled in, giving me a hug. I drifted back into sleep, my head nestled into her neck and shoulder. It was certainly a different sensation being hugged so lovingly and carefully by a Little. As I succumbed to the remnants of tiredness, I couldn't help but think that Annabelle was actually enjoying her life as a babied Little. BEEP-BEEP...FLASH! Click! Both of us jumped fair out of our skins, hearing those sounds, and the flash of intense bright white light. I started crying, heartbeat elevated, feeling completely disoriented. I could hear Annabelle in much the same frame of shocked mind! "Aww, you two were too cute not to take a picture!", I heard Sarah giggle. "Mum, did you have ta do dat?", a weepy and sleepy voice squeaked. Annabelle was not amused at the antics of her mother. Mum appeared beside the cot, reached in, and plucked me out, resting me on her shoulder, and placing my snuggle blanket over my back. "You'll be right, Meredith", she cooed at me quietly, patting and rubbing my back in reassurance. "You're a naughty mum, Sarah", Mum blew raspberries at her daughter, who was almost crying tears of laughter. Sarah scooped her crying Little from the cot, and took her out of the room, giggling and cooing at Annabelle the entire time. I calmed down after realising what had happened. Mum proceeded to change my wet and pooey overnight nappy, stripping me of my sleeper and an cloth singlet, replacing them with a soft baby-green sundress, and matching green nappy cover, some white anklet socks, and shiny black mary-jane shoes. "Want some brekky, Missy?" I smiled behind my paci back at Mum, who immediately lifted me off the changing table, and we were off into the kitchen. I could see Annabelle getting changed in the home theatre room by her mum, sitting up, having her hair brushed and braided, with a deep purple ribbon being expertly weaved into her hair. She was dressed in nothing but a white disposable nappy, which had prints all over it. Her mum would occasionally tickle an exposed stomach, or an armpit, eliciting a cute giggle or squeal from the girl. When her hair was done, Sarah swatted her Little's exposed lower back, eliciting another squeal. Annabelle stood up, turned around, and gave her mum a kiss on the lips and a cuddle. "Ok, girlie, arms up", Sarah asked. Annabelle obeyed, to find a purple tshirt pushed over her head, then her arms. Her mum followed up with a flaired out deep purple denim skirt, which didn't do much to cover her nappy. A deep purple PUL nappy cover was pulled up her legs, followed by some socks, and a pair of open-toed sandals. "Ok, darling, all done, so go and ask Granny if she can get you some brekky, ok?" "Thanks, Mum", Annabelle beamed back. she gave her mum a final cuddle and roared off towards the kitchen. Annabelle soon looked up at Mum and I, tugging on the hem of Mum's skirt to get her attention. "Would you like some breakfast, Missy Bella?", Mum queried the girl. "Oh, yes please, Granny!", Annabelle beamed back. "Ok then, Missy, lets go find your chair" Mum dropped me into my highchair at the Island bench, and walked off to the dining table, retrieving another highchair, and placing it next to me. This chair was a plasticy white, pink, and purple high chair, which could be dismantled to form a low seat with the base of the highchair turned into a table. Mum picked up Annabelle, and placed her into the chair, making sure to do up the harness straps. Sarah appeared, and velcroed a bib around her neck. I was pleased as punch to have company for breakfast, so I ripped out my paci and started banging it on the tray, giggling and breathlessly trying to speak words. "Maaa aa bbaa". Annabelle giggled away, talking to noone in particular, or maybe she was talking to me, but I was so engrossed in my speaking all of a sudden, I'd zoned her out. With a bowl of warm breakfast cereal placed on Annabelle's tray, she grabbed a spoon, and carefully started eating, but not without getting some on her face, fingers, tray, her bib, and her hair. Mum sat next to me, slowly scooping oatmeal out of another bowl, and presenting it to me. Open mouth was an opportunity for her to unload the mush, which I instinctively started to swallow, or dribble down my chin. Of course, I too ended up with it all over my face, hands, and bib. "Annabelle, do you want a bottle of milk?" "Yes please, Mummy!" She was soon presented with a small bottle of warm milk. "Thanks, Mummy!" "You're welcome, dear", Sarah beamed towards her daughter, who was noticably trying quite hard to be polite. She watched as her Little leaned back in her highchair, and started suckling on the bottle. After my breakfast, Mum offered me a bottle of cool-ish filtered water in a bottle. It was a bit different to my normal milk bottles, but I was quite thirsty, so happily nursed it all down, with Mum holding the bottle for me, constantly studying my face and its myriad expressions, or picking my nose, or playing with my hair. "So, what's the plan today, Sarah?" "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go to the Mall for lunch, and have a chat about what we discussed last night?", Sarah responded. Mum could see her daughter become slightly stressed remembering the discussions about Michael and the Mob the previous night. Sarah fidgetted a bit, looking down into the kitchen sink, playing absently with a fork in the sink itself. "I'm worried, you know, what Mark said". "I know, hon. I feel a bit lost myself for what to do" "I had hardly any sleep last night, thinking about all of it, it scares me. I'm worried about Bella, and her future." "Ok, I'll see what Keith wants to do", before standing up, and walking off towards the Master Bedroom. After a few minutes, she returned to the kitchen. "He's ok with lunch at Bellamys, but only if you're paying for it!" "Haha, sure, why not!" "He was joking, Sarah", Mum responded quietly, touching her daughter's shoulder. For the rest of the morning, Annabelle and I were confined to the Home Theater, to watch cartoons on the TV, or play with the toys from the toybox. I'd not failed to notice that all the toys had been packed away from the previous day's activities with Michael, Tom, and Kerry-Anne. Whilst looking towards the TV, I noticed that the lego model that Michael had built was sitting on the edge of the TV cabinet. All the unused lego was in the toybox. Mum appeared in the doorway, but seemed content to watch me crawl around. I was slowly finding my balance, and moving around a bit stronger each time. Annabelle joined in, crawling around with me, even though she could stand up and walk quite fine. When I strayed too close to Mum, she scooped me up with a rush, and probing fingers found a nappy not too wet. "That nappy will be ok for a bit longer", she concluded quietly to me I instinctively started to rub my face against her shoulder and neck. I felt quite thirsty. "Oh, I think I know what you're after, Missy" Mum sat down in Dads' recliner chair, dropped a strap on her dress, another on her bra, and presented me with an exposed breast. Yes, this is what I wanted, I thought as I latched on to her nipple, instantly rewarded with a few drops of mother's milk. Suckling produced more of the milky substance. Annabelle climbed up onto the lounge, and sat watching me. As I faded away into a milk coma, I could hear Annabelle talking away to Mum quietly, touching me gently. Sarah appeared briefly with something in her hand, my snuggle blanket, which was draped over me. A warm blanket, lots of body heat, a steady Amazonian heartbeat, and milky sustenance didn't fail to put me to sleep. ---- Stowe's legs cramped up from minimal movement. He'd been cooped up in the van for a few hours now, on another self-imposed stakeout. He stole a quick glance through the grimy windshield of the Battle Wagon, before returning his attention to his aching legs and feet. Too long sitting in the one spot, he mused. Too old to continue doing this shit long-term, too. Fucking must get a real job, or something. Across the road, about four houses down, was a fairly new, single storey residence. An ornate Country-style facade with gables and decorative finishings, double-hung square windows, a front porch with chairs, a flourishing front garden, all suggested attention to detail, and understated comfort. It was apparently also the house from which Meredith sent the message. Stowe had been on the stakeout since before sunrise. He immediately noticed problems with the location - a reasonably busy street, with vehicle movements almost constant. A shitty tactical arena, he mused. He had already driven down the street scoping the area, and the cars lining both sides of the road, then the house itself. Up a side street, he did a u turn, then doubled back, sliding into a parking spot where he could sit and observe the house itself. There were two cars in the driveway, an SUV and a trendy little "smart" car to zip around town in. A near-new medium-sized sedan was parked in front of the house. The vehicles windows were all fogged up from the cold morning dew-filled air. Lights eventually flicked on in the house as the occupants woke up, beginning another day of civilian life and activities. Stowe didn't know how many occupants there were in the place. Bringing up a map on his mobile, he studied the surrounds. Satellite view suggested a park behind the house, an avenue of approach that he couldn't see from his current vantage point. Houses enclosed the park, looked to be a quiet street too. Houses both sides of the street Stowe was on, which was a secondary feeder road for the main thoroughfare at the T intersection some 500m further down. Stowe continued to study the map. Overall, the house seemed quite exposed a location to guard effectively. Quietly, he admitted to himself he needed help, so he composed a quick email to Jacksen advising of the tactical situation, then adding a plea for an unmarked car to watch the house. It was time to quickly see about that park, so Stowe jumped out of the van, and walked off away from the house, towards a laneway marked on his map. He admitted that he really needed the exercise, get some blood flow back into his tired and cramped legs. After about 10 minutes of walking, he stood at one corner of the park, soaking in the surrounds, and the warming rays of the morning sun. Today was expected to be a bit cool, not quite as hot as the past few, he thought. Freshly mowed lawns, lots of shrubs, trees, a nice little play area with swings and a slippery-dip, a toilet block. He recognised the back of the Bradley house by a spire finnial from the roof gables at the front of the place. There was an covered Alfresco deck down one side of the house, windows around the back. The back lawn was almost non-existant, due to the size of the house itself. No dog wandering the back yard. He could discern movements in the house through the sheer curtains covering the sliding glass doors to the Alfresco. Sitting on a bench near the toilet block, he could hear nothing but the birds singing to the rapidly brightening sky away to the East. "Oi, you got any smack, bro?" Stowe looked around towards the voice, at a rather disheveled teenaged boy exiting from the toilet block. His eyes were bloodshot and pinholed. His feet black with grit. "Nah, man, none at all", Stowe quietly responded. "Bullshit, bro, you look like you've ..." "I said no, now fuck off!" "Whatever bro, but that's my seat you sittin on", the kid responded narcily, but also a tad impatient at the giant unwittingly invading his bench. "Did you not hear me, punk, I told you to fuck off!". Stowe's eyes bore right into the back of the kids brain, in a clear "don't fuck with me" signal. The kid looked at Stowe, was about to say something, but thought better of it, and walked away, muttering to himself. After a few more minutes of observation, Stowe concluded that he'd seen enough of the bad tactical landscape, and retreated back to the Battle Wagon. No email from Jacksen neither, so Stowe let out an audible sigh, rubbing his tired face with his hands. He discovered a fresh bottle of water after a quick search of the front seat. A swig of the water later, he felt a bit more refreshed, though he really needed a coffee, or maybe a beer. He settled down, and continued his stakeout. With the sun well above the yardarm, casting short shadows on the ground, he looked at his watch and contemplated whether to drive off to the local shops for lunch. Looking disinterestedly across the road towards the house, he noticed some movement, finally. A male exited the house, carrying a folded up pram. He unlocked the SUV, popped the back hatch, and placed the pram inside. Returning to the house, he retrieved a single large brightly coloured bag, suspiciously looking like a nappy bag, placing it into the back of the SUV, before closing the hatch. A tall slender lady appeared at the front door, with a baby capsule in her right hand. Stowe recognised the lady as the same woman he bumped into in the Mall. He instantly surmised that Meredith was the child nestled in the capsule. Stowe watch the lady clip the capsule into the car carrier in the back passenger-side seat. She then jumped into the front passenger seat. The man chivalrously closed the door behind her. Another lady appeared at the front door, holding the hand of a tiny Little girl. They walked towards the sedan parked on the road. After strapping the little into a baby seat, she jumped into the drivers seat, started the car, and disappeared up the road. Stowe didn't fail to notice the Little girl's happiness, chattiness, and loving attitude to her mum. He smiled at the cuteness of the thing. But Annabelle and Sarah were not the targets here. The big SUV soon backed out of the driveway, and followed the smaller sedan up the street to the T intersection. Stowe followed the convoy, but kept his distance, as he was unsure whether the drivers were at all capable of detecting tails. He needn't hav worried. He initially failed to notice a beat up old car pull out of the driveway of an empty house opposite the Bradley residence, and follow at a discreet distance behind the Battle Wagon. How could he have known - the car looked just like any other in the driveway of a home. After about 20 minutes of driving main roads, the convoy approached the shopping district. By this time, Stowe detected and observed the beat up old car behind him after following a few turnoffs, so kept an eye on it through his side mirrors. The driver didn't seem in much of a hurry to bypass the van, so Stowe deliberated over who the guy's target was - himself, or the Bradleys? Suspecting the family were going to the Mall, Stowe deliberately slowed down, to give the convoy more space to make a few turns into the Mall's parking lot. The driver of the old car started to get impatient at this point too, weaving the vehicle towards the centre line of the road, beeping the horn, looking for opportunities to overtake the big lumbering pile of rust in front of him. Time is what the family needed to make those turns and get away, so Stowe hatched a plan. Coming up to a red light, he started to gun the engine of the Battle Wagon, surging and slowing. Just as he slowed to a stop at the lights, he switched the engine off, which caused the van to lurch forward, stalling. He reached across to the glove box, pulled out his pistol, racked it, flipped the safety on, and shoved it down the front of his cargo pants. To the tune of honking horns, he stepped out of the van, and went through the motions of popping the bonnet. Next he reached for the radiator cap, cracking it a fraction to let out some steam, quickly replacing it. The steam showed everyone the non-descript crappy van was going nowhere, fast! Stowe continued his charade of dancing with a broken down vehicle, walked around to the back of the van, opened the back doors, and found a container of water. With traffic constantly wizzing past on the other side of the road, Stowe knew that there'd be no overtaking of the van, until he got it moving again, so he meandered back to the engine bay, reached in, and emptied the water all over the hot engine, causing more steam. Noticing the two family cars were finally gone, Stowe dropped the bonnet, jumped in the van, started it first go, and drove away. Glancing in a side mirror, he saw the driver of the tail exasperated, talking heavily into a mobile phone, and ultimately take the wrong turnoff. In the split second Stowe had seen of him, the driver looked vaguely familiar. Mission accomplished anyway, for the moment at least. Guessing the Bradleys were heading to Bellamys, Stowe parked the van in the HH&S underground parking spot. Before getting out though, he made his pistol safe, and locked it back in the glove box. Where he was going, he didn't need it. Stowe walked out of the HH&S building into bright sunlight, a beautiful calm blue-bird day, forcing the use of his aviator sunnies. He quietly chided himself for forgetting his baseball cap, but with no time to waste, he headed up the street to the bottom of the Mall. The Mall itself sloped gently up one block to a set of traffic lights at a pedestrian crossing, and a gigantic shopping centre beyond that. For the moment, foot traffic was reasonably heavy, being a weekend and all. With the sun high in the sky, he thought of one thing, food. Well maybe also a beer. Oh, and getting Meredith, don't forget Meredith! As he briskly walked up towards the top of the Mall, he glanced from side to side looking for the Bradleys. Towards the top, near the pedestrian crossing was where he finally noticed them. Mr Bradley was pushing the stroller Stowe had noticed being packed into the back of the SUV earlier, Mrs Bradley intertwined with him by the crook of her left arm. She was laughing and prodding him. The younger lady was also pushing a pram, with the tiny hands of a Little occasionally pointing and gesticulating at the things around her. The whole party were slowly dawdling up the Mall. Stowe reached them at the pedestrian crossing, standing slightly forward of the pram in the crush of bodies waiting to cross the road and enter the shopping Centre. As he surreptitiously stole a glance towards Meredith, who was silent and fast asleep, he heard a distressing commotion nearby. A small group of Amazonian teens started arguing and screaming, leading to a few of them squaring off, ready to fight. An all-too common occurrence in the Mall these days, he thought, and an awesome distraction. Everyone looked towards the yelling and screaming, naturally, all except Stowe. With the parents looking away towards the commotion, Stowe examined the tiny sleeping baby. In moments of high stress like this snatch, Stowe swore that time seemed to stand still. His decisions seemed instantaneous, his movements robotic and lightning quick. He had to move fast and silent, as he was about to snatch someone's loved one. He was standing right next to her now, he could reach in, grab her, and be gone before anyone would notice. Meredith was just a tiny version of a Little, and he snatched those nearly every day. Easy peasy! This is what he was trained to do. To snatch Littles. Just as he started the necessary motions of his body to lean down towards her, he stopped. So many emotions and memories and doubt washed over him in that instant. He willed himself to physically move, but something wouldn't release his muscular brakes. A higher unconscious authority wouldn't give the ok to proceed, it seemed. "This is it, I'm doing it", he consciously encouraged himself in response, but again no further movement ensued. Palms sweaty, his heartbeat racing, its BOOM BOOM BOOM reverberating in his ears. Conflict arose within him, an internal voice spoke aloud within his mind, cutting harshly through his confusion, "Is snatching Meredith the right thing to do?". The voice was unmistakably Mrs Henderson's. "She loves me, she needs me, and I love her, I must protect her", he pleaded. "That's not good enough". A voice of reason. "Meredith is mine" "No, Meredith is not yours, lest you be reminded that she is legally adopted, and there are consequences. Remember what Jacksen told you, dumb ass" "Meredith was taken from me" "Look at her, Stowe", it demanded. A glance showed the tiny girl relaxed, at rest, at peace, and very well looked after, clean clothes, a loving family. "Can you look after her?", it demanded. "No, I cannot", his logical side instantly concluded. Within a single pound of his racing heart beat, Stowe knew he had to leave her. He grimaced. He looked up and around, saw a break in the traffic as the fighting nearby lurched onto the road, and scrambled across to the other side, a quick look back at Meredith etched forever within his photographic mind. Stowe was sitting at an outside table at Bellamy's Cafe, in the centre Atrium of the Centre itself, sipping a much-needed coffee, as the Bradley family walked into Bellamy's, choosing a table in the middle of the cafe itself. Their positions afforded Stowe an otherwise obstructed view of Meredith. He tried hard not to stare at them, but only occasionally glance their way, observing the husband, Meredith's new mother, and the other lady with her Little. A waiter approached the table and took their orders. Jennifer ordered a Latte in a mug, and a BLT sandwich, Keith ordered the same coffee, but settled on a burger, and Sarah ordered a Chai Latte in a mug. Looking down at Annabelle, who was basically pleading with her doll-like eyes, "Oh, and I think Missy Bella here would like a babychino, a cheese toasty, and a little bowl of chips with gravy?" Stowe noticed some rather excited clapping from the little girl. She obviously got what she wanted! With the family settling down for lunch, Stowe went back to ruminating into his own coffee mug, a double shot of espresso, made black. He remembered Jacksen once commented on the state of Stowe's stomach, "must be made of bloody concrete, mate, to handle that kind of coffee strength" Jen reached into the pram next to her, unbuckled the safety straps, and carefully lifted the still sleeping Meredith to her shoulder. She grabbed the blanket out of the pram, and tucked it over the baby's back and legs, tucking it in around her tiny body. All everyone could see was Meredith's head, resting on her mum's shoulder. Stowe looked up, and for the first time was really able to examine her face. She looked like a tiny version of her old Little self. Stowe was a bit confused whether the Bradleys had simply regressed her, or physically changed her. Certainly her facial features were the same. But she was so tiny. She was fast asleep. Stowe scoffed at how clucky he felt towards the girl in that instant, though he had no paternal yearnings at all. Years of hard grinding as a soldier in the Army Special Forces destroyed that. Meredith showed a younger Stowe how to care again, to show emotion. It therefore didn't surprise Stowe that he really felt like a cuddle from the girl, he could just walk up there, introduce himself, and everything would be right with the world. "Dad, do you think that Mark is overreacting to this issue about Michael?", Sarah asked quietly. Keith sat back, played with a chip hanging precariously on the end of his fork, and though of Mark's demeanour last night. "I dunno, though he certainly was not himself", he cautioned. "Little Michael didn't seem at all alarmed though", Jenn added. "Is this mafia family as dangerous as Mark suggested?" "Yeah, I think so. I certainly fear for Mark and the family", Keith admitted. "Hmm". "What do you think Mark will do to protect them all" "Didn't he say last night that the cops have put a protective detail on their house" "Yeah, I think so" Keith whipped out his phone, and sent a message to Mark. [Dad] you arranged with the cops for a guard, right? No immediate reply. But not unexpected, Keith thought. Stowe was half way through his coffee, and munching down on a piece of hamburger meat when he glanced up at towards the main entrance to the Centre. A guy dressed in a suit jacket, and shiny black shoes was flanked by two lackeys. One looked like he'd not slept in a day. Stowe immediately recognised him as the driver he'd forced away from the convoy. The bloke had obviously attracted a friend in the meantime, and what looked to be his boss. Stowe studied the clean shaven, fancy dressed boss-man with interested eyes. The guy seemed familiar, though Stowe could not remember from where. Maybe the HH&S office? Reaching around to the small of his back, Stowe only then remembered he'd left his .45 back in the Battle Wagon. Shit! His phone sat on the table next to the plate of chips. Stowe called up Jacksen's messages, and fired off a request for help. [Stowe] Trouble in paradise, Jac! Mob @ the Mall. Need help! Looking back towards the boss man, he was deep in conversation with his goons, deciding on a course of action. Stowe had no choice, but to act, now! Abandoning the remnants of his succulent beef burger, hot chips, and a rapidly cooling mug of coffee, he walked with a purpose into Bellamys. "Mr and Mrs Bradley?" All three adults looked up at the giant man who'd suddenly interrupted their conversation. "Yes?", Keith cautiously confirmed. "You must come with me", Stowe commanded. His voice was authoritative, but also quiet. He didn't need the Bradleys now to make a scene. "Not bloody likely, mate!" Sigh. "There's no time to waste, Mr Bradley. You are all in danger" "And just who the fuck are you?" All four Adults looked down at Annabelle. "I'm your saviour, little one, and also her guardian angel", Stowe responded quietly, pointing towards Meredith. "Annabelle!" "Sorry, mum", she responded, as cheeks started to blaze a beetroot red. Keith shook his head in pure amazement, before looking back at Stowe. "She's right though. Who are you?" "Valid question, I'm the one who rescued Michael from the Ramon Family. I'm sure Mark has told you the story of how he came to adopt Michael". "Yes..." "Excellent, so now we must leave, and right now". To emphasise his point, Stowe looked back over his shoulder towards the shops entrance. No sign of the boss and his henchmen. ---- The sudden flurry of activity caused me to wake up with a start. I found myself on Mum's shoulder, warm, but a tad hungry. I looked around, and immediately noticed Stowe. He had that wildly excited and desperate look about him, reserved for those times in combat of high stress and immediate danger. "Mi...", I started to sound, hand reaching out towards Stowe. As I blinked, I found myself in my office, standing behind my high-backed executive chair. The office was a shambles, papers strewn everywhere. The filing cabinets were open, and looked to have been rifled through. What did they want? Looking at the clock on the wall, it seemed that time was slow, like molasses in winter. The air was heavy, the office space deathly silent, and still. Tick.... I looked at the photo of Stowe. God, he looked so handsome, and manly in his signature "dont-fuck-with-me" pose. As I moved around the desk towards the photo, I absently ran a finger along the scalloped and carved edges of my desk. Tock.... Stowe was in a "ready" position, hand tantalisingly poised over his holstered pistol, ready to quick draw, a rifle slung across his back. A rifle, no his rifle. I remembered now. Expensive. Dark green resin-composite stock, anatomically shaped. Charcoal black matt action and barrel. A massive matt black silencer, covered in a tatty-looking muslin sheet. A massive scope. Matt black, with more tattered muslin. Stowe's pride and joy. I couldn't drive it. I was too small, though Stowe at least let me attempt a shot one day. Probably just for the LOLs. Boy did he laugh, when I squeezed the trigger, causing an almighty whack from the recoil into my right shoulder, sending me flying backwards. I couldn't hold it up, so Stowe caught the rifle easy, as I let go, stumbling back, in pain, and slightly deafened. Good fun though. Tick.... I moved away from my desk, towards the office corridor. Silence permeated through the room, creeping into my bones, but shattered by the clock's methodically mechanical movements. As I reached my office door, I felt a deep sense of loss. Maybe I'd never see this office again. Tock.... I walked down the hallway towards the back of the office. The door to Mum's office was closed. Should I open it? Maybe she's inside. I'd love to talk to her. But something ethereal drove me onwards. Tick.... I continued, pausing a moment to peer through the ajar'd door into Stowe's office. It was immaculately clean, like he had always maintained it. A half-full bottle of scotch on his desk, an empty crystal scotch glass sitting next to it. Tock.... I proceeded to the end of the hallway. To my right was the door to the bathroom. Directly in front of me, a closet. I opened the closet door. Inside was stationery, brooms, a mop, a few unopened packs of Little's nappies, some towels, toilet rolls. A keypad with flashing red light, hidden in a corner. Tick... My fingers gravitated to the keypad, and entered in the combination. Stowe's service number, hidden in plain sight, for all to see, in the photo on my desk. The light went green, a hidden safe door popped open. I grabbed the exposed edge, and pulled it towards me. The contents of the closet rotated to reveal the hidden safe. The rifle was gone. Tock.... I took a step back, surprised. My pupils narrowed, focused on the boxes of ammunition sitting in the base of the safe. Not all of them had been taken. Only just enough for the job at hand. Tick.... The spotting scope was also missing. But, hang on, I was using that scope on overwatch when Stowe snatched Michael Stone. Tock.... Stowe had the rifle. I felt warm, and safe, hungry, and a tad bit wet. Tick.... I awoke in my pram, being wheeled out of the shopping centre, not by the main entrance, but a back street side door. I could hear Stowe nearby, giving directions to Mum and Dad, hurrying them along, with a whiney Annabelle somewhere behind us. As we reached the Mall car park, Stowe seemed confident enough that we weren't in immediate danger, so told Dad what to do next. "You need to get back home, don't stop for anyone or anything. I've sent a message to the police for assistance. They'll hopefully set up a protective detail for you". "Ok, thanks, but we still don't know your name?" "Oh, yes, my name is Stowe." "Right" Stowe handed over a contact card, turned around, and headed out of the car park. "Can someone please explain to me what just happened?" "It seems that this Stowe dude had been watching us all along." "He said something about Meredith back there in Bellamys?" "Yeah, being her guardian angel, but I don't understand." Mum transferred me to the capsule, but not before I gave her a big hug. Her face was ashen, and lined with fear. I smiled back at her, no fear, signalling to her that we were safe. Mother-daughter bonding moment. Her expression changed. "Lets get you settled into the car, ok?" As we drove out of the Mall, I heard the handsfree chirping away. "Hello?" "Dad? It's Mark! Where are you?" "On our way back home from the Mall, why?" "You have to get here, dad. Michael's been injured". I heard the alarm and fear in the voice that tinny little speaker valiantly tried to portray. "Ok, son. You ok?" "Yeah, just get here, hurry". The line went dead. Keith looked across to his wife. "Didn't you hear what that Stowe man said? To go home, and don't stop for anyone or anything" "I don't think he meant for us to ignore our son, now?" Tock....

One way to flesh this out a bit more would be to weave flashbacks into the story, bits of dreams when she's asleep, slowly describing the impact, and reaching right into the point where she's snatched to the Dimension. One recollection could be her drunken dad's face as he's lost control taking the corner outside their shed. Other than that, a good start to another awesome Diaper Dimension tale.

What kind of bulky diapers are we talking about here? You can get very good Molicare and Abena diapers which are discreet, and thin(ish), yet retain lots of fluid. My Molicare Premium Slip Maxi lasts all day, and is thin enough to be worn under normal street clothes, at work etc, without anyone noticing. Other options are pads which fit using fixing pants.

oohh there's a few here from Sydney now, sweet!

I do think that Stacy is itching to be babied again. She's definitely not ok with Amanda distancing herself from Stacy's daily care - that emotional nurturing motherly bonding was too cute to her. Several chapters now where Stacy is becoming increasingly jealous at Bella for taking mommy's time and attention.

I could see Stacy regressing from the stress of the abduction (or attempted, whatever happens next). With her thoughts in this latest episode, and increasing jealousy of not being babied, I don't think it woudl take much to tip her over the edge. Anyway, also, congrats on hitting Chapter 30! That's massive!

I love going to bed with a warm bottle of milk - it really does a number on me. On a few occasions, I've fallen fast asleep mid-feed, only to wake a few hours later with the bottle still in my mouth, but the milk cold. I use toddler formula now. It was a bit of an acquired taste, but I now look forward to each nightly feed. It's so relaxing, tasty (vanilla-malted milkshake taste), and filling. I often wet during my feed, get stomach pains, occasionally have a cry, and also suffer a bit of wind. I'd love to experience a milk coma (unless those sleeps with the bottle partly empty are such things), totally full on milk. Wonderful experiences.

No, I haven't forgotten this story. Have had a few stressful weeks dealing with finances, but slowly working on this tale in the background. Hope you all enjoy! ---- Chapter 7 - Messages Mum carried me into the house, after we arrived home from the Mall, setting my capsule down in the home theatre room. Unbuckling my restraints, I was picked up out of the capsule, and placed on my back on the shag pile carpet floor, pacifier placed back into my mouth, bear in the crook of my arm, and my comforter blanket placed over the top of us both. I was fast asleep, the tantrum in the Mall tiring me out completely. I woke up slowly, from the silence in the room, and the distinct lack of movement. My surroundings seemed almost lifeless, the air around me quite still, totally devoid of breath. That air was warm though, my cheeks flushed red. I heard whispering nearby, so opened my eyes and slowly looked around. Initially I was quite confused of my surrounds, until I noticed the big TV hanging on the wall, and all the gadgets with blinking lights in the TV cabinet. As I woke up, I felt my tiny body react in a quite natural way, it released a stream of wee into the already wet nappy covering my butt. The sensation was weird, it felt like ants crawling across my pelvis, so I started to squirm and moan. I looked up towards noise beyond my vision, below my squirming feet and legs - glass doors being slid apart, with Dad's face appearing above me. "Good afternoon, my sweetness!", his gruff, manly voice cooed at me. He leant down and picked me up off the floor, settling me on his shoulder, before covering my back with the blanket. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, smelling the musky manly odours of protection and strength. I was hungry. I noticed Mum busy in the kitchen, bags of groceries all over the island bench. She was furiously chopping up some carrots into slices, looking up from her work when she noticed Dad and I. "Look who's awake, mummy!", Dad stated "Hello, bubba, ya hungry?", Mum enquired softly. Her face was quite relaxed. Dad didn't give me an opportunity to respond, placing me in the highchair, and fastening the safety straps. Mum placed a long strip of carrot, some grapes, and some banana pieces on the tray in front of me, and went back to slicing up vegetables. I rubbed my eyes of the remains of sleep, whilst examining the feast in front of me. I picked up a piece of banana, which mostly ended up in my mouth, but some ended up between my fingers, and on my nose. I played and giggled at the squishy texture. A grape was next, which felt quite hard on my gums until I bit down on it causing a mini explosion of grape juice and mush, with the slick innards dribbling down my chin. Yummo, that grape was wonderful, very sweet, and quite juicy. So I picked up another grape, but squished it in the palm of my hand before I could get it into my mouth. Once all the fruit pieces were devoured or smeared all over the tray, my attention turned to the carrot piece. It was hard, and all I could do was suck on the end of it. Mum had thoughtfully only cut it up long enough that I could grab it with one hand, and have just enough poking out of my fist to suck on, and not shove it down my throat, lest I choked. As an adult, I'd largely ignored the textures, and taste of carrots and fruits, but as a baby, I was able to enjoy the discovery and sensations of touching and tasting the fruits and vegetables all over again. I was concentrating quite hard on sucking the weird and tangy juices out of the carrot when my body betrayed me once again. Eating caused pain in my belly, and I unconsciously started pushing and straining, letting out a bit of a smelly fluff from my rear end. Mum looked up at me, smiling, close to outright laughter. "Have you done stinky poos, Meredith?" My red blushing cheeks may have given her a clue, but it really was the smell which gave the game away. She dried off her hands, extracted a few wipes from a packet on the island bench, and wiped my face and hands. I was released into her loving arms, and we walked off down the hallway into my Nursery, wherein she gently laid me down on the change table. Before my butt had a chance to settle onto the padded surface, Mum had my sundress up around my head, my nappy cover down around my ankles, nappy un-taped, and my butt in the air, wipes furiously at work. Expert hands danced around my nether regions applying desitin cream, and baby lotion, before a fresh Huggies nappy was pushed under my butt, and brought up between my legs. Tapes screaming to a tune, nappy cover velcroed back into place, Mum sat me up, and adjusted the sundress. "All done, no fuss, no muss, easy!", she cooed at me, touching my button nose. DING DONG! I heard an electronic chime go off. Mum immediately looked around to the entrance to the room. "Keith? Keith? Can you get that please, hunny-buns?" "Sure", he said as he walked past the door to my room. About a minute later, I heard muffled voices elsewhere in the house. Mum picked me up off the change table, placed me on her shoulder, and walked out into the main living room, restoring my pacifier to its rightful position. I instantly recognised Sarah, Mum and Dad's daughter. A tiny Little girl was clinging to Sarah's right leg, trying valiantly to hide from my sight. She must have been no more than about 16 or so, still quite a child for a Little, and so tiny even by Little standards. The girl sucked on a white-shielded pacifier, which had a cute baby-pink ring as contrast, a purple ribbon connecting the ring to her dress. Her longish natural blonde hair had been braided into pony tails, which had pink ribbon intricately laced through them. She wore a pink and purple sundress, which splayed out from her chest, covering the obvious nappy bulge underneath. Her overall looks were quite beautiful. I giggled with excitement. As soon as Sarah saw me, she reached out to touch my nose and plant a kiss on my forehead, "Hello you!", she softly spoke to me. Holding onto the girl clutched tightly to her leg, "Annabelle, say hello to Meredith". The girl looked up at me, and gave a cute little wave, before hiding once more, looking up at her mum for approval. I just looked at Annabelle, with a cute little smile behind my own pacifier. I don’t know what made the girl scared, or shy of me. Maybe it was because I didn’t back down, and kept staring down at her from my lofty height. Most likely though was that she saw me as an amazon baby, who would sooner tease her for being a Little, than to be her friend. Sarah crouched down and had a quiet word to her Little, who hugged her before running off around us and disappeared into the home theater room. I was offered up by Mum into Sarah’s waiting outstretched arms, receiving a kiss on the cheek by Sarah, before she started walking with Mum and Dad into the living room. Sarah held me tight against her chest, my eyes only just seeing over the top of her shoulders, my nappy’s butt resting on her left forearm. She started chatting away to Mum, watching her cut up meat, slowly rocking back and forth on the spot, patting the small of my back, or rubbing my back up near my neck. I was totally relaxed, nursing away on my pacifier. I rolled my head to one side, my left cheek buried on her shoulder blade, and watched intently as Annabelle stated pulling out toys from the toy box in the HT. The girl selected a doll I’d spied yesterday, sat down amongst all the toys, stroking the doll’s hair, pulling the clothes into shape, and talking softly to it. The gyrations of my body were starting to put me to sleep again, the sensations made worse by my continued eye movements trying to keep track of Annabelle. “Is she going to sleep on you, Sarah?”, I heard. A few gentle movements, and I head Sarah respond in the affirmative. She never let up the subtle movements though. I woke with a start when I heard the door bell again. Sarah handed me back to Mum, as Dad walked past us towards the front door. More voices I’d never heard before. I was soon being introduced to the rest of the Bradley clan. Mark Bradley was another tall, strappingly handsome, and quite young man, clean shaven stubble, slicked back hair, wearing a pin-striped blue shirt, straight pants with very distinct and sharp creases. A hint of Old Spice aftershave. His wife was introduced to me as Sue (short for Susan). Very demure, feminine shape, she had gorgeous long blonde straight hair that disappeared down her back somewhere, I could not see, complemented by a simple but effective dark blue dress and dark blue flat shoes. Her skin was glowing, maybe a touch sunburnt. She gave me the cutest little wave and smile, I instantly melted. Looking down, I remembered Thomas and Kerry-Anne from the photo on Mum's phone. Both were still toddlers (Tom being the eldest at 5), but both were big bundles of energy. Thomas shook Dad’s offered hand, and immediately roared off into the HT, followed quickly by a whirlwind of hair, lace, tiara, and pink tutu that was Kerry. Which left Michael Stone, ahh... Bradley now, standing alone at the front door, a bit apprehensive and shy, looking quite out of place. “Michael, come and say hello to your cousin, Meredith”, Mark asked him. Michael took a few steps towards me and waved. “Hello, I’m Michael, very pleased to meet you, umm…”, he quizzically looked up to his dad. “Meredith, her name is”. “Oh, Meredith, sorry”. Michael only then began to study me, his eyes a bit surprised. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited at seeing him again, but my enthusiasm at seeing a familiar face was lost to everyone. Michael looked again up to his dad, who told him to go off and play with the others in the HT room. I was again the centre of attention, as I was handed over to Sue, who planted a kiss on my cheeks before giving me a tender hug. She did something different, and spun me around, holding me against her chest in a bear hug so that I was looking away from her out to everyone else. This was a bit different. We walked back into the living room, to a space now filled with chatting and laughter and general merriment. I kept stealing glances into the HT room, where the four kids were playing away, toys scattered all over the floor of the room. I started kicking my legs, and cooing away, occasionally hooting and yammering, letting out the odd little yelp, blowing bubbles. Mum eventually rescued me from Sue’s embrace, after seeing my face slowly turn red from exertion from the position I was in. She walked to the doors leading into the HT, and put me down on the ground, before leaning up against the door jamb to watch the activity within. Maybe a bit shocked at the orgy of toys and blocks everywhere. “Good luck navigating that minefield of lego blocks, Meredith!”, she said, before walking away with a giggle. I was on my hands and knees, rocking in place, finding my balance once again, excitement building within me. With each movement of my hands and feet, I slowly propelled myself forward, crawling into the mosh pit of kiddy arms, legs, stuffies, blocks, bricks, dolls, balls, cars, trucks, blankets, and boxes. It was chaos, but organised chaos none-the-less. I noticed Michael was busy building something with the lego set he found in the bottom of the toy box. I stopped and watched, a smile on my face, drool dripping down off the bottom of my pacifier’s guard. I could see that he was content, and happy, and definitely not the highly-strung Little that Stowe and I rescued. As he sat, cross legged with the lego bricks in front of him, I could see the telltale signs of a nappy’s waistband peeking itself above his trousers. “Hi there Meredith”, he offered quietly. I just looked at him in return, gurgling away to myself, trying unsuccessfully to respond. He stopped what he was doing, and looked at me with an intense glare, before his eyes kind of glazed over. “You know, I used to know a lady with the same name as you. Her name was Meredith too”. He went back to his work, “She was a Little, like me”, occasionally stealing glances towards me. “Had the same colour eyes as yours too - what are the chances, huh!”. I started to feel a bit frustrated at that point, unable to communicate with him. I was so sure he’d continue his line of thought, and realise who I was, but he never connected the dots, instead remaining focused on his rapidly evolving lego model. Just as I began to crawl towards the toy box, I was pushed over by Thomas, bent over wheeling a dump truck around the floor, picking up blocks as he went along. The shock of being pushed off balance scared me as I toppled onto my side and back. As I started screaming and crying out, I heard a muffled, “… sorry Mum, I didn’t know she was there! I’m really sorry…”. Picked up into a hug by Sue, she sat down on the lounge, and began to calm me down, quietly reassuring me. I was unhurt, just shocked, partly from the shock of being so shocked so easily. I was normally not such a sooky la la, but I guess that babies can’t help it. She held me against her shoulder, and rubbed my back, as I calmed down to a sniffle. “You’re ok, Missy Meredith”, she cooed at me. “Is she going to be ok, Mum?”, I heard Tom quietly ask, genuinely concerned. He laid the back of his hand against my cheek. I noticed that Kerry was standing next to Tom, just as interested in my welfare. “Yes dear. You need to be careful when you’re around babies, ok?” Kerry-Anne had a paci in her mouth, and was studying my face. I was sure she was wondering who this little baby was, and where she came from. “Yes Mum, I am sorry”. “Ok, now go off and play, dinner will be ready soon”. Through the hum of talking and laughter, I could hear a crackling and sizzling in the distance, with the odd wafting smells of bacon, sausages, and meats. "Hey, Mum, can we play games on Grandpa's console?", Tom asked. "I don't know how to turn it on, Tom" Michael looked up from his model, and noticed the console sitting in the TV cabinet opposite him. "I used to know all there was to know about electronics, I bet I could get it going!?", he offered. "No, Michael, Ill ask Grandpa to turn it on for you". Sue placed me back on the floor, and walked out of the HT room, returning with Keith. He stood in the middle of the room with a remote. "Ok, who wants to play some games!?", he quizzed to the crowd of kids around him. "Me, me!", both Tom and Michae replied excitedly. "Ok" He took a few seconds to boot the console up, which flicked the TV on, and caused a green light to glow on the camera below the TV. "Can I leave the control of this in your capable hands, Michael?", Keith asked, handing over a remote to him at the same time. "Sure can, Grandpa" Michael was a natural at controlling the console. No sooner had Keith disappeared out to the back deck to continue supervision of the BBQ, Michael had navigated to the games list, selecting a two player dancing game. "Can I go first, Mike?", Tom asked. Thomas shuffled into the middle of the room, and paused before raising a hand, causing a clock on the screen to count down, with music starting up on a track advancing across the screen. He jigged, and waved, and twirled away, “dancing” to the beat. I was initially quite confused, seeing the game react to Toms movements. He was trying to place hands and legs into particular spots in time with the music and track markers. Alas, after a minute or two he failed to keep up and it was game over. Michael then had a go, waving his hands around to reset the game, then start it. After a couple of iterations, Tom stopped, panting hard from the exercise. "I need a drink!" "Yeah, so do I!", Michael agreed, and waved his hands to pause the game. Both walked out of the HT towards the kitchen. I looked at both Kerry and Annabelle, who’d also stopped to watch the action on the TV. Annabelle jumped up from her spot next to the toy box, and walked over to the camera. Looking slyly out towards where the boys were, she started waving her hands around, causing the console to move from one game to another. This little Annabelle, looking so innocent and angelic, seemed to be quite smart for her age, moving control and focus from the games area to apps. I saw a messaging app pop up on the screen briefly, but Annabelle was only interested in a colouring app icon, opening it up, and selecting a picture to colour in. She sat down on the floor, and waved her hands like a magician across the floor, selecting colours, then the areas, then making tiny movements with her right hand to do the colouring in. She was far too concentrated on her work to notice that Michael and Tom returned. Tom pouted at seeing the console commandeered, but Michael just sighed, and sat down next to his lego model. It was "unwise" to assert authority over two Amazons fighting, he knew, irrespective of how old he was. “Hey, Annabelle, I was playing a game on that!”, Tom grumpily stated Annabelle ignored him. “Gramps put the console on for Michael and I, not you, Annabelle!”, he started yelling, before pushing her aside. She screamed in response. “Oi, Oi! None of that!”, came a booming voice from the door. I think we all jumped from fright. “It’s dinner time, anyway, so there’ll be no games until after dinner, if you’re all good, and eat everything on your plates!”. Dad walked into the room and scooped me up off the floor. I was taken out into the main living area and placed into my highchair which was at one corner of the island bench, with seating spaces allocated for the other kids. Mum handed me a small piece of lukewarm sausage, and placed a bowl with some fruit, some vegetables, and another couple of sausage slices in it. “Eat as much as you like, missy, then you can get some milk, ok?”, mum whispered to me, before walking back around the Island bench into the kitchen to dish up plates for the other kids. I sat back and examined the slice of sausage, which felt a bit rough, but squishy. A synapse suggested I knew what sausage tasted like, but the rest of me was hesitant, like I’d never seen this thing before. Curiosity got the better of me, though, so I started to suck on it, and kneed it between my gums. New sensations, my tastebuds going wild with the meat textures and juices. As the sausage was whittled away to nothing, I picked up another piece, and then another, followed by some grapes, a squishy little cherry tomato, a sweet apple slice, and some carrot. I looked down at my bowl, and was shocked to the point of giggling, at all the food smeared all over the tray, the bowl, my hands, and my face. I looked around, and noticed Mum watching me. She was enjoying a piece of cut meat, and smiling back at me. She retrieved my pacifier, placed it in some brown gravy sauce on her plate, and popped it in my mouth. Heaven - I spent the next couple of minutes furiously sucking the tasty morsels off the paci, looking at Mum, pleading with my eyes for more. Another dip of the paci into gravy, and I was hooked. Gravy had never tasted so good! Mum stood up from the dining table, and walked off into the Home Theatre room, to retrieve my comforter blanket. She grabbed a few wipes, and cleaned my face and hands, much to my annoyance. After I'd finished a baby tantrum, she unclipped the high chair harness buckle, and picked me up, sitting back down at the table, but angled off to one side, giving herself some room. With everyone else chatting away, and eating their dinners, Mum unbuttoned her blouse, unclipped her bra, and positioned me in front of her left breast, covering me up with the blanket. I quickly latched on, and started suckling the sweet sweet warm milk, all alone in my private little cocoon. I nursed away until I fell asleep, waking up to a pounding back and a burp. A change of position, and I was soon back asleep. ---- "So, Mark, out with it now. You've been a sour-puss all afternoon!", Keith questioned. He looked across the dining table towards his son, who was slowly rotating his beer bottle with the tips of his fingers. Mark looked up at his dad for a sec, looked across to his wife, who almost invisibly beckoned Mark to start talking. The kids were all asleep in the Home Theatre room, so now was the time to let it all out. "Ok, well, hmm... I was called into a meeting yesterday by a cop... about Michael... ", he quietly announced. Silence across the table, Jenn's face a mask of surprise. She stole a look towards Michael through the clear glass panels in the Home Theatre room closed doors. He was stretched out on the floor asleep under a blanket. Tom had his hands wrapped around Michael's shoulders, in a loving embrace. The two girls were asleep on the lounge, Meredith asleep stretched below Tom and Michael, under the same blanket. With a sigh, Mark continued, "... he informed me that the Department had concerns for Michael's safety." "Concerned for his safety? Why? Is he in trouble?", Sarah asked. "Littles always seem to be in trouble. Not my little angel thankfully!", she responded nervously. "No, it's not like that", Mark replied angrily. "The investigator from the adoption company Sue and I used told me that people were after Michael". "Did they say who?", Keith probed. "Yeah, the Mob" "What the heck!?", Jennifer screamed. Sue burst into tears. She'd obviously been briefed by her husband, so knew the story, but it didn't really hit home until just then, when she finally realised the full implications. ---- I woke up with a start, arms shot up into the air, legs involuntarily kicking, after hearing screams from the other side of the glass doors. Why I was in the HT room, rather than my own bed was a bit of a mystery, until I realised my nappy had been changed, but also still wearing the same clothes. I must have been changed by either Sue or Sarah, as my nappy felt slightly different to the result of Mum's changes. I yawned, and unconsciously nursed on my pacifier. My teddy bear was lying against the left side of my head, so I leaned over, and attempted to cuddle it, burying my face in soft plushy fur, all the while intently listening to the adults talking away, just the other side of the Home Theatre Room doors. "But, why, Mark? Why would the Mob be after little Michael" "It was explained to me by Michael last night that he was rescued from the Mob, the... Ramon Family" What a great night that was, though ultimately became my last outing with Stowe. I sighed at the fading memory of him. "Michael is apparently an heir to an Estate, though he's told me sweet fuck all else, apart from a blow-by-blow account of his rescue. Oh, and Sue, I've just remembered... the investigator informed me that Mrs Stowe passed away". "Oh, oh... ", Sue cried. "She was a gorgeous and patient woman, oh, no...". A minute or so of silence befell the table. "She was such a sweet lady to talk to too, so knowledgable about the law, and weaving her magic to find Michael". Another minute passed. Mark returned to sipping his beer. As I lay there, my face buried in the bear fur, I could feel a few drops of tears form, and I sniffled. My first mum was absolutely the best woman in my Little life. I so dearly missed her, wishing I could see her again, but knew that the idea was impossible, whilst simultaneously feeling intense love and warmth towards my new family. "The investigator told me that none of us were safe from these people". The fear in Mark's voice was quite evident. "They've put a squad car outside our house. I don't think we were followed here, so you should be safe, Mum." Keith, connecting the dots, piped in, "No, that's not right. If the Mob want Michael, they might try to use the rest of us as leverage, to get to him." Sarah opened her mouth as if to speak, concentrating on what she was going to say, but paused. "So, does this mean Annabelle and I are in serious danger?" "'Fraid so", Mark replied back matter-of-factly. Sarah did not react well to that news, standing up, hands covering her face. Which meant that even I was in danger. The Mafia would stop at nothing to find Michael. My next thought was that Mum, Dad, and I were defenceless. "Was there anything else the investigator said, Mark?", Keith queried again. "Yeah, he told me to go get a gun" A gun. I didn't know whether Mum or Dad had one. It was an absurd thought, but I know who did have one, and who could use it too if push came to shove. "You're supposed to defend your family from those raving lunatics with a lowely gun? Are the cops for real!?", Mum yelled out. "Oh my lord above, Mark!" I rolled over onto my stomach, and gingerly pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. My arms were tired from the exertion, a bit shaky and unsteady. I looked up towards the black TV, hanging on the wall. "Can't the cops arrest this Ramon family?", Sarah questioned. Directly below the TV was a steady green light, which told me the camera was active, though the TV was showing nothing. "No, it doesn't work like that, Sarah. If the Mob made an attempt, then yes. " I crawled to the middle of the room, and sat back onto my padded butt. Remembering how little Annabelle expertly navigated around the console's interface, I started waving my hands around in front of me, but to no avail. The TV remained black. Was the thing even on? "We've gotta do something", Mum stated, fear in her voice evident to all. "I'll have a chat to the cops in the morning", Keith responded. I looked around the room, and noticed the controller thingie that Dad had handed to Michael still sitting next to Michael's unfinished lego model, so I crawled over to it. I was agast at the seeming complexity of the thing, spending the next couple of seconds in a vain hope of recognising any of the buttons. Noticing a green button, I realised I had no hope of pressing it down, so I raised my hand and smacked the controller. As the thing lept into the air from the force of my palm whacking it, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the TV screen emit a faint glow. More animated talking outside the door. Any moment one of the giants out there will notice me, or the TV being on. I crawled back to the middle of the room, and sat back onto my butt once more. This time, I could see an interface on the TV. Every time I moved an arm, the interface would move in sympathy. Remembering once more how Annabelle moved around to find the app she wanted, I took a few minutes to get to where I wanted to go - the messaging app. I was greeted with a largely blank screen, a slow flashing block, some writing towards the top of the screen. A message needed a recipient, so I could start with Stowe's mobile phone number. Alas, for the life of me, I couldn't remember it. Stowe. A gun. His gun. The gun in his photo, sitting on my desk, in my office in HH&S. I was walking up the Mall, phone in my right hand, absently thumbing through the contacts. I needed to contact someone, but who? I paused scrolling with my right thumb on the screen, when it displayed a tiny image of the same photo, which I'd stored as Stowe's avatar photo. Below that was his mobile number. Memorise it, Meredith. Still walking up the Mall, I began to recite the number, committing it to long term memory, a set number of numbers, digits, ten digits, ten shapes, shapes with bumps and strokes and squiggly funny looking lines. I giggled. Memorise it, Meredith. I woke up as I fell back onto sleeping Michael's outstretched legs, causing him to stir. Sitting back up, I looked back up at the TV. Raising a hand up above my head, I noticed a keyboard appear on the bottom of the screen. I could wave the hand around, and a bright square would follow the movement, flicking from one object to the next. So began the laborious process of moving the cursor from remembered shape to remembered shape, until I had no more shapes remembered. I hoped that was it, and that I'd remembered correctly. The flashing cursor went to the next line, so I waved it down to the main part of the screen, which I presumed was the message area. What to put there, I wondered. Meredith. I could put my name there. How was my name even spelt? I knew that it started with an Emm. What does that look like, I wondered? I stared at the TV for a while, frustratingly examining each symbol. Eventually I found the one I wanted, so pushed and pulled the cursor over to it, and selected it. An "M" flashed up on the TV. The talking outside got quite animated, and I heard sobs of pure fear out there. I had to send this message quick, deciding just an Emm would do. How would Stowe know it was the real me, though, and not some imposter, like a Mob goon? I instantly remembered the series of symbols on Stowe's photo, his Service number. The same one that was seemingly engraved into my brain. 6510029. So I added those symbols to the message box too. "I thought it was you", Michael whispered to me, as he yawned, and stretched his arms high and wide apart. The message immediately moved across the screen, flying off to the right edge before disappearing forever. I was horrified at losing the message I'd so meticulously crafted, so I cried out in anguish, and flopped backwards once again into Michael's legs, a tantrum building. "Ow!" Suddenly the whole room was bathed in a bright light. "What the hell's going on in here!", Mum spoke quietly, but commandingly. "Meredith bumped into me, Grandma!", an obviously tired but bewildered Michael responded. I was whisked up into the air, in almost full cry mode, kicking my legs, my arms moving wildly. I was balling my eyes out, snot all over my face. My cries started to wake the others, so Mum held me tightly against her in another loving warm hug, as she quickly carried me into my Nursery. "Now stop that, right now Missy!", she spoke, as she stripped me of my clothes, popping my pacifier into my wide-open mouth. I almost immediately started suckling on it, letting out the odd pop and gurgle and squeek. My cries died down as Mum removed my wet nappy. "Lay still, will you". Mum was getting a bit impatient with me, with my legs and arms still moving about. I sensed that she wasn’t particularly happy with me, which started to send a bit of fear through my body. I somehow didn’t like seeing Mum unhappy. She once again quickly cleaned my bottom and bits with some wipes, before soothing my butt with cream, some powder, and wrapping me in a clean nappy. She retrieved a bottle of night time body lotion, and started to massage it across my arms, legs, chest, and neck, the scent wafting through the air. She sat me up, turned me around so I was facing the window, held onto my neck and face in her left hand, and began massaging the lotion into my back. The sensations were wonderful, her gyrations getting slower and slower, gentler, and gentler, as I completely relaxed to her touch. A warm sleeper then buttoned up, and she decided to swaddle me tightly in a knitted-wool soft-pink blanket. I was completely trapped, unable to move any part of my body. The swaddling did its job - I found it all too hard to keep my eyes open. Mum then picked me up, holding me to her chest, and sat down on the rocking chair. The room was mostly dark save for light from the hallway. She started patting my butt, her warm face a hairs breadth away from my cheeks, giving me the odd kiss. With no way to move my arms or legs, feeling warm and secure, I gave up the fight, and retreated into the dark dreamland, fast asleep. ---- A quiet night, the office totally still, and mostly dark, save for the work light atop Stowe’s desk. Typing away on his mechanical keyboard, clickety clicks, vibrations travelled across his desk to the scotch in his glass, which formed minute waves. Orangey light bounced off these tiny imperfections, sending sparkly light to splash across the walls and the roof of the greater office. A buzz started to emanate from his mobile phone, which sent more vibrations into the already unsettled scotch. Stowe briefly contemplated ignoring it, but decided that a mere glance wouldn’t break his concentration. “Holey shit!” He picked up the mobile, and examined the message closely. <UNKNOWN> M6510029 The “M” plus his service number could mean only one thing. Meredith sent it. He forwarded the message to his work email address, and impatiently started refreshing his mailbox on his laptop. DING! There it was, a message from Meredith, but it was way too short. There was no substance to it, no plea for help, just a simple “M”. What did it mean? Stowe used a command to examine the mail headers. Filtering out the ones added when he forwarded the message from his phone to his work account, he came across a series of headers added during the message’s transmission across the Internet. It looked to originate from within a console gaming service. Weird. He picked up his desk phone, and dialled some numbers. “Sergeant Jackson speaking!” “Jac, it’s Stowe, I need a favour”. Stowe’s voice was serious, and oozed urgency. “Sure”, came a tired response “Your Intel guy, Herbie? Can he track down the owner of an account within an online games network?” “Sure, but what’s this about?” “I’ve just received a message from someone who seems to be Meredith, but it was sent from a system I know nothing about”. “Ok, send it to Herbie, and I’ll get him to look it up for you”. After receiving PFC Herbert’s email address, Stowe forwarded the message, then took a swig of his Scotch as prayer that something will be found. “Where are you anyway, Jac?” “Watching this goon of yours, mate”, Jacksen responded quietly. “He’s done nothing wrong so far, so our hands are tied. We can do nothing until the guy breaks the law”. “Shit, I thought you were gonna nab him” “Can’t do that, Stowe, you know that” After talking of the legalities of an illegal snatch of a known Mob goon, Stowe started to realise that Jac was right. Stowe was itching to interrogate the guy, inflict pain, but at the same time, he hesitated to stoop to Mob level, to achieve that goal. DING! He looked across to his laptop screen. Jac kept talking “Stowe, Stowe… you still there?” “Yeah, we’ve got a problem” “Eh?” “Herbie’s good, mate. He’s already tracked the account to one Keith Bradley” “What? Meredith is with the Bradleys?” “Adopted by them, Jac. It all fits. I saw her at the Mall today, being carried by a woman”. Stowe became quiet, tired, spent. “Can she not escape?” “She can’t, Jac, she’s a baby, she’s been regressed by these fuckers”. “You can’t snatch her, Stowe, if that adoption is in any way legal”, Jac had to add. “She’s in trouble, Jac, I have to …”, Stowe responded in kind. “If the Mob get to her, and find out who she is? Oh, shit…” “Stowe, brother, don’t do it!”

Yes, it's rare that I get to experience what a dry nappy feels like. Sometimes I'm still taping up the nappy and I'd be already leaking. I'm also now experiencing wetting whilst sitting on my work chair (at home), some fecal accidents (had two in one day just the other day), and I'm wetting my pullups either on the way home from work, or when I walk in through the door at home. I'm toileting 5 times a day at work, and now have to consciously go to the toilet just before heading home, lest I not make it home. I'm fearful that my pullup will leak (and I know what the answer is, but I still cannot jump over that fence). I work knickers to work last week, and regretted it almost immediately. I felt like I was moments away from wetting all the time, and constantly went back and forth to the toilet. Got home, wet knickers. So now I know that my future is at minimum pullups to work. And yes, Mark, I too seem to "turn the tap off" at work, and although I go frequently to toot, I don't normally pass much water. Only those times where I've been unable to go for a long period do I really tinkle, but at the same time, suffer a bit from my stress IC. Finally, I am not feeling any of the clamping sensations when weeing now too, nor can I stop streams when they start.

Awesome start to a story. You asked me the question the other day about this story - I'd not read it, and then this pops up in the story feed :-) I was physically angry at the turn of events in Making the Best of it because I felt emotionally connected with the main characters. If the cattification of the Little was more permanent, I don't think i'd have read to the end of the story, because of that emotional response - how dare they do that to this sweet little, and how dare the writer from pulling me into a dark space! It wasn't until my third reading where i actually connected the dots, especially how she was poisoned (by another little with a jealous streak), and rescued. That story, Exchanged, Bad Day turned Good all helped motivate me to begin writing Meredith I'd love to know what you think of that DD story I hope this this story is as good as Making the most of it

I heard about this story a month ago, and had to ask around for a copy, as the story was lost in the great purge of October'17. Absolutely loved the first part of the story, but was horrified when the main actor turned into a cat. I was actually physically mad at the DD world, the callousness and utter stupidity of the daycare workers to let her be taken as a pet, and it wasn't easy to contain my emotions about it during work time. Anyway, have read it three times already.

Here's another installment in the mystery and mayhem, the yin and yang, of Meredith. Enjoy. And please let me know what ya think of the story, my writing. ## Chapter 6 - The Camera doesn't Lie One aspect of my life which started giving me comfort was simply waking up each morning. Cracking open an eyelid, and seeing the mobile above me continue tracing its lazy circular path, and hearing the tinny and tinkly music accompaniment, was wonderfully calming to my supple and curious mind. I was invariably lying flat on my back in the cot for overnight sleeps, or propped on a side with a wedge against my back for my morning or afternoon naps. The freshly laundered cot blanket and sheets kept me warm, and often quite trapped if mum really tucked me in before kissing me on the forehead and retreating from the nursery to let me sleep. Turning off the overhead light before walking out, the only illumination in the Nursery would be a night light atop the bookshelf, and a tiny little green light on the radio device on the changing table. If mum remembered, like last night, my bear would be lying next to me under the sheet. I'd sometimes wake up with the bear on top of me with my arms wrapped its neck in a sleepy cuddle, or it'd be propped up against the side of the cot next to my head, waiting patiently for me to wake. This morning I stretched and yawned, and immediately started fidgeting, arms and legs moving, sensing a release of wee into an already soaked overnight nappy. I sensed that mum was even resorting to adding a soaker pad into my night nappy. Of course, I didn't remember being changed for bed last night, as I was completely out of it after being nursed off mum's breasts. Just the thought of breastfeeding made me salivate, wanting more. Littles often told me that Amazon mother's breast milk was addictive, but had side-effects which Amazons loved - the Little would lose their continence. Thinking about my own life as a Little, I was pretty sure that Mummy Henderson never breastfed me. Sure, she babied me for a while, but then unexpectedly let me grow up, develop, attend Uni, become a professional. But so many other Littles never got that chance - there being an unspoken truth about Littles never being allowed to grow up. I seemed to be an exception to that, but only for a short while. Many a time, I asked my HH&S Amazon clients whether they were willing to allow their prospective Little to grow into a functioning adult Little. Even I (naievely) expected the Little to be babied by the new parents for a period of time, only to be "set free" to return to adulthood, though remain adopted. Most parents obviously said yes, but surveys a few years post-adoption would often see the Little still in regressed states. A few of our Littles had even disappeared, with their Amazon parents a bit cagey about their locations. I'd heard through the grapevine that inter-Dimensional Mob gangs would drag Littles across Dimensions to use as incubators. The offspring of those incubators would be free money to the Mob once they were sold to unsuspecting Amazonian parents. After all, money talks to Amazons. HH&S always vetted the Littles they were dealing, examining their life history, birth places, parentage, what they remembered of their childhood. We dealt in pure-bred Littles. Their own blood parents sometimes willingly gave them up for adoption through HH&S, considering voluntary adoption to a loving Amazon couple far better than forced adoption to random Amazons with dubious intentions. Sometimes, success stories happened. I wondered this morning whether I'd be allowed to grow up, again. As I was wide awake, my body decided to continue its seemingly regular morning ablutions, with pressure building in my tummy, only to release on further squirming and leg movements, and a few little groans. I could not stop whatever my body was ejecting into my nappies, my perfect continence gone completely for however many more years. Somehow, Mum just knew I was awake, and in need of a change, soon appearing in the open doorway to the nursery. Looking up into those beautiful blue eyes of hers, I could do nothing else but smile, and softly gurgle away at her. "Good morning, sunshine! I see my little girlie is quite happy this morning!". I melted at the sight of mum, looking down at me, my arms and legs moving excitedly, and seemingly quite randomly. She dropped the side of the cot, and gently lifted me out from under the bedsheets. "Oh oh! Princess has given me a gift?!", she proclaimed, after sniffing the air around me. Darn gifts, I thought. So stinkey. She laid me down on the changing table, and unsnapped the legs on my sleeper. Expert hands had my sleeper up around my nipples in seconds, exposing a nappy cover over the offending overnight-weight disposable nappy. As I was stripped of the layers of cloth and nappy paper, I could feel my lower body break out into goosebumps from the cool morning air. Mum took her time to clean up my bum and around my girly bits, removing the last bits of fecal evidence with some big cloth wipes, that only made me feel colder. She sensed my discomfort, "Sorry, bubba, almost done now". She'd already slid a fresh new day nappy under the old one, so that my butt never touched the fabric of the changing table as she removed the old nappy from under me. She added some desitin cream to my butt and girly bits, some baby powder, and closed up the new nappy, expertly fastening the tapes. I was snug as a bug. A fresh nappy cover from a drawer was pulled up my legs, with the leg gathers adjusted to cover the disposable trapped inside. Once re-fastened into my sleeper, she grabbed both legs, and dragged me right down to the end of the table, my legs hanging over the edge. I lifted them up, and pushed them into Mum's chest as she leant over the table, her arms flat on it, cradling my sides so I couldn't roll over. Here we go, I thought, intimate moment coming up. "You remember what the doctor said yesterday, right?", she asked quietly whilst looking into my eyes, studying them. I nodded back at her, not sure where this was going. "Are you ok with what he said?" No, I wasn't ok with losing what knowledge I had as Meredith Henderson, so I shook my head slowly. "I'm really sorry about that". She paused, studying my face and running fingers through my hair, picking a bit of snot out of my nose. "We didn't think there'd be problems caused by your NAP transformation. NAP transforms are permanent." More goosebumps, realising I can't be changed back to a Little. Would I ever want to, though? "Again, I'm really sorry to put you through it, now. But that doesn't matter. Because you know why?" Slight confusion, my face a mix of emotion. "Because your perfect, every little facet of you is perfect". I had to be regressed to be perfect, apparently. I sniffled and squirmed. "I bet you'd love to be able to talk, though huh?" Yeah, talking would be very beneficial to all of us about now, I thought. "Daddy and I only did what we thought was best for you at the time. Littles don't get to grow up, you know, but an Amazon baby does. It'll just take time, and you'll learn to speak again, and read, and write, and go to daycare, and school. Are you ok with all that?" I nodded, tears forming in my eyes. Mummy acknowledged I could grow up, be Meredith again, an Amazonian Meredith. "Are you mad at me, for doing what we did?" No, so a shake of my head. How could I be mad? "That's good. You know daddy and mummy love you so, so very much", spoken softly, as she started stroking and playing with my wispy hair. "Do you love us?" I immediately nodded, prompting Mum to lean over and kiss me tenderly on the lips, which I wasn't expecting, then my nose, then my forehead. I started giggling, silly mummy. "So today, my sweetness, we shall get us some breakfast, then go to the shops to get stuff for a barbeque this afternoon. You'll get to meet all your brothers and sisters, and their kids too! How does that all sound?" I couldn't wait, so I giggled some more, waving my arms and legs with excitement. After a breakfast of warm oatmeal, some grapes, and a bottle of milk, Mum carried sleepy food coma'd me back to the changing table, for a change of clothes and a fresh nappy. I was in a sorta-sleepy mood when Mum lowered me into the baby capsule, and fastened the harness restraints together. She handed me my teddy bear, covered us both in my comforter blanket, pushed my pacifier into my mouth, and set off through the house into the garage. Daddy was there, so he gave me a kiss too before lifting my capsule into the truck. A few minutes later, I had to squint and close my eyes from the bright sunlight as our SUV reversed out onto our street, and we were off. I started watching the scenery slide by outside the window next to me, but the sunshade stuck to the window kept that view mostly blurry and diffuse. So I was stuck in a spot with not much to capture my attention. The SUV's movements, the quiet rush of the road noise outside, and the lingering effects of my breakfast were all enough to cause a yawn or two, and I soon buried my face in the bear, and nodded off to sleep. I woke up when mum lifted me out of the capsule, feeling suddenly quite cold. She placed me into a padded seat which looked like a high chair, but was black and dark grey canvas, with straps everywhere. She quickly fastened the straps holding me in place, put a yellow bucket hat on my head, and leant down towards me. "Ready, bubba?" Yup, ok, I think so, maybe? With some trepidation, I nodded. Mum grabbed hold of two big wide straps, and hoisted the carrier I was strapped into onto her chest, the straps going over her shoulders. She took a few moments to tighten them, and one across her hips and lower back, and once more we were off to the Mall and eventually the shopping centre at the top of the Mall. We walked out of the parking garage, meandering lazily up the Mall, Mum peeking into the odd shop or two, my bouncing around in the carrier on her chest. This was a totally different experience for me, but I was still a bit zoned out. Occasionally she'd start humming a tune or two, giving my forehead a kiss. I mostly just sat there, legs dangling out into space through legholes in the bottom front of the carrier, my arms down by my side, head turned to one side or the other, and resting up against Mum's chest. It was another warm sunny day, so lots of Amazons and Littles were out and about, especially given this was the start of a weekend, and two days of glorious weather. Littles caught my attention again. Some were regressed, some not. I noticed one family, husband and wife, with two Littles in tow, one a regressed Little in a stroller, and one who looked quite tween-ish. The two Littles were quite happily conversing and joking away, the baby of the two babbling away in baby gibberish. Neither of the parents admonished them, much to the chagrin of some of the other Amazons nearby. "You really should be punishing your tween Little for talking normally - they should all be talking like babies you know!", one said. I had to stifle a giggle, but couldn't help but smile behind my pacifier. Mum sensed my happiness at the scene, and whispered to me, "Those two Littles are adorable, huh". We walked into a butcher shop, famous for the most succulent and tender beef cuts in town, and the best beef sausages. I remembered that this butcher also catered for meat cuts in Little sized portions. Mum bought a few foil-lined bags of meat, and we were soon crossing the road at the top of the Mall, and into the shopping complex. I hadn't moved for a bit whilst mum walked within the complex, and soon felt her lift my hat, to discover I was mostly asleep. "Oi, baby girl, you awake?", she whispered. Opening an eyelid, I could see her smooth facial features, her massive deep blue eyes looking curiously back at me. "Too cute - I need to put you down for a bit here. Time for a coffee, me thinks!". It was only then that I realised we were in Bellamys, my favourite cafe. Mum selected a table inside Bellamys, dropped the meat bags onto the floor, then gingerly removed the carrier straps, easing me to the floor too. She rummaged around in a pocket below where I was seated, and pulled out a bottle of juice. After ordering a single coffee for herself, she held up the bottle to my mouth, causing me to spit out the paci, and slowly nurse on the apple & blackcurrant juice. Although it tasted nice, I was supremely jealous of the coffee Mum was sipping on. Quite unexpectedly, after catching my inquisitive look, she retrieved my pacifier, unclipped it, dunked it into her coffee, and offered it up. "Don't tell Daddy, ok?" As I laid back in the carrier, enjoying the few drops of precious coffee clinging to the pacifier teet, Mum sipped the last few mouthfuls. I was so in heaven with discovering the taste again, I didn't notice Mum snapping some photos of me, in my own little world. We were soon in motion again, towards the grocery supermarket. As we entered the store, Mum grabbed a shopping trolley, dumped the meat bags into it, but kept the carrier with myself inside, up on her shoulders. By the time we'd walked all the aisles, the trolley was almost full. ---- Jacksen crept up to Stowe, who was lying prone under some bushes, intently studying the car and driver. Stowe had been watching the car almost all night. There’d been no other vehicle movement in the street for this time in the morning, which seemed a bit odd to Stowe. Unbeknownst to him, Jac had arranged roadblocks, stopping vehicles from entering the streets in the area. “Stowe, how goes things?”, Jac whispered. “Tired, mate, been watching this car for hours now. Goon man hasn’t moved from that one spot, keeps chugging away on ciggies, drinking water, and studying the house with his binos.”, Stowe replied, emotionless, but betrayingly emitting his hopelessly tired voice. "He has to be peeing into his used bottles too." “Ok, but gross.” “Mate, the guy is as thick as two bricks, he’s not checked his six or anything” Jac looked at the scene. Around the corner, there were two parked cars between him and the target vehicle. “You’re sure there’s no lookouts?”, he asked. “No, mate, there aren't, I’ve been checking” “You haven't been in this one position all morning?” Stowe looked back at his mate with a tired, but cheesy grin. “Obviously you don’t know me all that well, Jaccy boy. I’ve checked two blocks in every direction, ok! A man has to stretch occasionally too, find a tree to pee on, ya dig!” “Ok, ok, bro, but still gross. I trust ya, though I do think you need a break. You look totally stuffed.” Stowe chuckled and returned to studying the driver. "Ya certainly go that last part right, Jaccy boy". A thought entered his tired brain, maybe his last clear thought of the stakeout. “Hey Jac, you got a tracker handy?” “Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing, bro. Jac turned away, crouch walked about halfway back up the side street, away from the target, and dug out his radio. “Herbie, you copy? … Yeah, can you bring up a vehicle tracker? … Thanks”. About five minutes later, Jac returned to Stowe, and tapped him gently on the shoulder. Stowe turned around, and noticed that Jac had a Little with him, who was dressed in dark tactical pants and shirt, and holding a tiny box in his hand. Stowe sat up, and held out his right hand. “Howdy, I’m Stowe”. The Little shot out his hand for a handshake, the offered hand tiny in comparison with Stowe’s chiselled massive Amazonian hand. “Hey, I’m PFC Herbert” “Didn’t know the Feds employed Littles”. Stowe examined the Little with his eyes. The guy was scrawny but looked quite fit, average Little height, he had a certain quiet arrogance about him, apart from the clear embarassment after Stowe's comment. "Ah, shit, sorry... My mouth doesn't know how to shut up when I'm tired." “Herbie’s our best Electronics Intelligence specialist”, Jac countered. Herbie laid down next to Stowe, and peeked around the corner. After a few minutes of watching the driver, he shot out from under the bushes, and combat-rolled under the first car. Stowe was impressed - Herbie had chosen the exact time that the driver lifted his binoculars to his eyes, so was blind to movement in the car’s mirrors. Stowe watched, as the specialist slowly crawled under the line of cars, to the rear bumper of the target vehicle. Herbie’s movement slowed as he carefully edged under the rear bumper of the car, and went to work attaching the tracker. Stowe could plainly see how having a Little worked for this team - there was no way an Amazon would be able to get under the vehicle enough to fit that tracker. Herbie again slowly backtracked under the cars, and raised himself to a crouch behind the boot of the last car after crawling back the way he went in. He looked back at Stowe, and hand-signalled him to tell when the driver was distracted. Stowe had to wait a good ten minutes before Herbie was waved back to the bushes. When he returned to Stowe and Jac, he was covered in sweat from the exertion and stress of the situation. Pulling out a handheld display, he switched it on, and played with the tracker application, handing it to Jac, before walking back to the rest of the team, hidden out of sight. Another thirty minutes of silence and watching, Stowe groaned as he stretched his legs and limbs. “Stowe, go and get a coffee and some rest, mate. I’ll alert you if the guy moves” “Righteo”. Stowe backed out of his position, stood up, stretched, and leaned on Jac’s shoulder. “Don’t let this fucker escape, Jac”. “Nah mate” “Call off the road blocks too that I know you’ve prolly set up, as there's been no traffic for hours now. This guy’s probably too dumb to notice that. He’s only a lookout for Ramon, not a hitman. I’ve not seen him use his mobile neither”. “Good observations, bro”, Jac admitted. Stowe punched him on the shoulder, then retreated from the scene back to the battlewagon. Jumping in it, he laid his head on the steering wheel for a minute, then started the van up, and drove back towards town. Yes, he needed a coffee, and he knew just the place to get it from too. ---- Mum and I had completed the grocery shopping, with the trolley full of plastic bags and carboard boxes. Mum had given me a treat as we walked out of the shop, a squishy biscuit-like teething stick to suck on. In my mouth, against my gums, this too was heaven. My gums were becoming increasingly sensitive, so any chance to cool them off was good in my books. Mum casually started our stroll back through the shopping centre, past Bellamys. Both her and I briefly looked through the doors as we meandered by, Mum emitting a quiet chuckle. Around the ornate fountain, back down towards the exit doors to the street, and the top of the Mall. Walking outside, we were hit with the increasing heat of the day. Morning was fast disappearing, the sun climbing higher and higher into the bluebird sky. "Gee, it's getting hot now, huh bubba!" I was ok for the moment, so long as I had my yellow bucket hat on. We stopped at the pedestrian traffic lights, waiting to cross the street. Mum turned to look at a disturbance a bit further up, a Little woman struggling against her harness restraints in a stroller, fighting to regain freedom from her captor, screaming and hollering away for all to hear, her young Amazonian mother clearly struggling to keep control of the situation. As Mum turned, I was able to look down the Mall, straight into the eyes of Stowe. The big man, my hero, was walking up the middle of the Mall, towards the traffic lights we were at, his whole body posture screaming exhaustion. Stopping at the lights on the other side of the street, I could study him more intently. Gee it was great to see him. He looked a bit disheveled, though. I'd seen that look before in him actually, it was his post-stakeout fuck-off-I'm-too-tired-for-your-shit look. I wondered who he was staking out, then a thought occurred to me. He'd not been watching us, because he clearly wasn't recognising either Mum or I. But I was shocked when he seemed to look straight through me. Could he not see me, Meredith Henders... err, oh... Of course - He was still expecting a Little Meredith, not an Amazon baby Meredith. I had to attract his attention, so he could see me. I had the same hair, the same eyes, surely he could see me, deduce that I'm here, at last! I'm saved! I'll be back in his arms any second now! My first instinct was to point and wave at him. So I held out my hand in his direction, my arm unsteady, cooing and giggling quite loudly and excitedly. Attempting a wave, I could only remember opening and closing my fisted hand, the one that held the teething biscuit. Of course, as it fell towards the ground, Mum sensed this, and turned towards it, bending down in an attempt to catch it, causing me to lose sight of Stowe. The next time I saw him, he was right next to us, bending down to pick up the biscuit. "Sorry, Maam, your baby dropped this". He handed the biscuit to Mum, took a very brief look at me, eyebrow raised, but then simply walked off into the shopping centre. I cried, oh gee did I cry a tanty. As tears blurred my sight, I suddenly remembered the hat. He had no idea I was Meredith, because of the silly hat, covering my hair as it did. So I reached up to grab it, discovering it was held to my head tight. I balled up my fists, and cried tears of utter frustration, Mum valiantly trying to calm me down. "Oh, Meredith, I'll get you another biscuit in a second, darling, you can't have this one - the 10 second rule applies!", she whispered to me. Of course, to her, this tanty was all about the dropped biscuit. In her infinite wisdom, she decided to press on down the Mall to the SUV, largely ignoring my cries. Thrusting my pacifier into my gaping mouth, she picked up her walking speed. The bumps I felt through the carrier harness, the exertion of my crying fit, the squeeks and crashes of the shopping trolley, all quickly tired me out, and by the time she'd reached the bottom of the Mall, turning off to head into the parking garage, I was quiet as a mouse, and out like a light. I didn't wake until we got home. ---- Stowe sat at a window table in Bellamys, twirling a teaspoon around in his mug of Kaffee Latte, watching the three sugars slowly collapse through the white milk froth, dissolving before his very eyes. Hehe, that's how his whole life seemed to be right now, he thought, just dissolving away. He still had no idea where Meredith was, or if she was even alive. Not a peep, which was very strange indeed. If she'd been captured by Ramon, surely he would have heard from a goon, or even Ramon himself by now with some sort of ransom demand. Or maybe an indication where to find her Little body. The dopey goon driver was leading him nowhere, but otherwise driving him insane. The guy was parked in front of Mark Bradley's place, concentrating on tailing Mark Bradley, because Ramon was looking to snatch or otherwise harm Michael. Nowhere within this orgy of subterfuge was anyone looking for Meredith Henderson. Stowe reminded himself that even he had just spent darn near a full day watching dopey goon man too. In fact, he'd been consumed with and blinkered into finding the asshole, due to a mistaken belief that the goon would lead him to Meredith. Bzzzzttt. Wrong, Stowe, ya goose. Stowe worked his way through a labyrinth of random thoughts on the subject, whilst sipping down tiny mouthfuls of the amazing coffee. Jacksen was watching dopey guy now, right, so maybe Stowe could ease up on that line of intellectual reasoning, and start down a new line of investigations towards finding Meredith again. Yes, he thought, he could have watched the driver for long enough to lead back to the boss man, or maybe even Ramon, but it was doubtful the Family even had Meredith? Again, there's been no word from them. But there has been contact - the break-in at the office. Hmm... deep thoughts needed more fuel, so needed food, Stowe concluded. He caught the eye of a waitress, and ordered some faux-Italian pasta dish. In this Dimension, there was no "Italy" to speak of, with all the recipes imported from another Dimension - the one called "Earth", or so the tale fortold. Stowe wondered how much money the person who initially imported those recipes made as a result. In any event, the faux food was always delicious in Bellamys. If Meredith had been tortured to reveal the whereabouts of the Michael Stone documents, the office wouldn't have been trashed, Stowe wondered. The smart thing the perps would have done was left everything untouched to cover their tracks, and only accessed Meredith's computer. But because they were clueless, they had no option but to trash the place, and hack her computer. They were desperate for the documents, after all. Ok, Stowe concluded, so Meredith likely hadn't been taken and tortured. Jac's "enquiries" also had not turned up anything, and those even encompassed checking hospital admission records. Stowe sat back in his seat, looking around for inspiration, or maybe simply looking for an excuse to get out of there, go home, and sleep. He locked his focus on a woman and a Little. She had obviously regressed the poor boy back to a toddler age, and feeding him some biscuits. The Little seemed quiet, apprehensive, rather well padded in a nappy and plastic pants, but otherwise content to knaw away at the treat. He thought back to the accident, which was still quite raw and fresh in his mind. Meredith was hit by the car, so was Mrs H. Being methodical with his thoughts, keeping his emotions in check for once (and recognising the tiredness was helping to keep his thoughts detached), he dispationately surveyed the accident scene by playing through it like a video tape recording within his mind. As he turned to chase the car down the street, he caught a glimpse of an Amazon woman rush onto the road, bending down towards Meredith. In his mind, on that tape, her features were pretty non-descript. After all, Stowe's mind only recorded a mere half-second of vision, before the mind's camera lens focused on the back of the car, and the driver. His mind rewound the tape back to the spot where he noticed the woman bend over towards Meredith. Amazon woman, injured Little. Think outside the square, Stowe! It's obvious now, Stowe, isn't it? All Stowe could do was completely freeze up at the revelation, a morsel of pasta hanging off the end of his fork, mere centimetres from his mouth. He'd never contemplated the idea that Meredith had been taken to be adopted, but now it seemed an obvious conclusion. Was this new adoption even legal? Meredith had been chipped by Mrs Henderson, Stowe knew, so the adoption to Mrs H was made legal at that point way back when. But hold on, would Meredith's adoption by Mrs H still stand even though Mrs H was dead. Fuck me sideways, what happens then?! Stowe's mind began to panic at the possibility Meredith was legally someone else's daughter. But a nagging thought joined the dance party. That woman in the vision seemed, sorta, familiar. But from where? Stowe immediately made a mental note to check up on the legalities of termination of adoption when he was back in the office. Back to the question at hand, the woman in the tape. He looked across the restaurant to the lady feeding her Little another biscuit. Stowe suddenly remembered stopping today to pick up a child's biscuit from off the ground at the top of the Mall, just nearby, not all that long ago actually. Again, in the brief period of time he saw the child, a baby actually, it too looked familiar. The child was smiling, possibly even waving at him. Actually, he remembered hearing that child get really upset when he walked off into the shopping centre. What was it about that child, that baby, that Amazonian baby? I know, Stowe remembered, it was the eyes, her eyes. FUCK! He slammed his hand on the table in disgust, causing a number of customers to yelp in surprise, startling the Little into dropping his biscuit onto the floor, immediately causing a scene. He left the rest of his lunch on the table, but sculled his hot coffee in one gulp, before he stood up and left Bellamys, briskly walking out into the Mall. There was no sign of the lady, or the baby. He paced nervously up and down the Mall, thinking about his next steps. The lady he saw looked like she was a regular visitor to the Mall. All Stowe needed to do then was be around the Mall when the woman next showed up. It was a weak plan, but the only one he had for the time being. Sitting on a bench, he pulled out his phone. [Stowe] I think I know what happened to Meredith! [Jacksen] What? [Stowe] adopted by a witness to the accident which killed Mum [Jacksen] And you know this, how? [Stowe] i'm an investigator, so I investigate, unlike you... [Jacksen] haha, very funny [Stowe] look, i need to chase down this lead [Jacksen] ok [Stowe] can you handle looking after the goon for me? [Jacksen] Sure, but what about Mark Bradley, and Michael Stone? [Stowe] they're not my concern anymore, jac, meredith is. [Jacksen] And if Ramon makes a play? [Stowe] then u deal with it. mark is one of your guys, after all! [Jacksen] I thought you wanted the goon who ran over Mrs H? [Stowe] i do, but I need to watch the Mall, it's where I've seen the witness, who took Meredith Stowe waited a few minutes for a reply. Something was happening, Jac was busy... [Jacksen] hold on a sec, Stowe... [Stowe] what? whats happening, Jac? [Jacksen] dafuq is up with this guy, Stowe?! Mark's just left the house with family in tow, and this dumb fuck isn't tailing him? he's not driving away.. dafuq? [Stowe] you know what to do, Jac. Good luck.

I've found that fixation pants work really well for this too - Abena or Molicare fixation pants. Tends to hold the tapes together a bit longer too, and not as much sag when wet.

I love naps in the afternoons on weekends - one or two hour naps. Have had some great ones too, getting a warm bottle of milk to nurse on into sleep whilst lying on the lounge sofa. So comfy!

I go to sleep with whatever night nappy I have put on that evening. Sometimes it's dry, but lately most times its wet to some degree. Around 1030/11pm I'll change into my night nappy. I then let the dog out to wee before her bedtime, have a glass of water, and make a bottle of warm milk or warm formula. That warm bottle of milk/formula really does a number on me, and I'm out like a light most nights nursing from it. I'l wake up the next morning with varying states of wet nappies, sometimes soaked, most times a fair bit wet, some times mildly wet, but always wet. i've not had a dry overnight nappy since September last year. Most nights, I can sleep a few hours with my NUK pacifier too - I wake up with such a start though once I realise it's still in - it's still a bit of a shock to enjoy nursing on that in sleep state.

So here is Chapter 5, in Meredith's adventure in the Diaper Dimension. Please let me know if you enjoy reading it as much as Iv'e enjoyed writing it. -- ## Chapter 5 - Communication As I lay on my back, with my teddy bear gripped in the crook of my left elbow, looking up at the mobile slowly rotating above me, I wondered why I was so fascinated by it. After all, it was just a handful of bears and bunnies hanging down from the mobile, endlessly tracing a circle. But I think it was more the movement catching my attention, and the soft jingling music accompanying that movement. The mobile held my attention until I began to feel pain in my tummy, with pressure slowly building up to the point where I started involuntarily squirming, grunting, moving and stretching my legs, and feeling my face turn red from exertion. The point where it started to become unbearable, there was a release, and I could smell something horrid down there, under the sheet and blanket I was pinned under. My exertions and cries didn't go unnoticed, and I was quite startled when I noticed Mum enter the room, drop the side of the cot, peel back the blanket and sheet, and lift me up towards her shoulder. "Hehe, I know what your problem is, bubba!", she squealed at me, whilst setting me down atop the change table. Mum's expert hands undid the snaps of my sleeper, and peeled back the material up to my stomach, to reveal a nappy cover. As she undid the cover's velcro wings, we could both smell the issue at hand. My night nappy was both quite wet, and also a bit poopy too, though I could see Mum take the challenge in her stride, cleaning me up, placing a fresh disposable nappy under me, rubbing in some Desitin rash cream over my butt and tush, closing the nappy up between my legs and fastening the tapes. She reached into a drawer for a fresh clean nappy cover, quickly fastening it up, and adjusting the fit to cover all of the disposable, before finally closing up my sleeper. She sat me up in the middle of the changing table, and leaned over, resting her head on her hands, elbows on the table. "So today, girlie, we'll get some brekky, and then I'll take you to see a doctor, then maybe some lunch. Does that sound like some fun?" I was only interested in the breakfast, so I eagerly nodded, and started slapping my hands on my thighs. Mum picked me up, and walked off into the kitchen, placing me in the high chair. She handed me what looked to be a circular teething toy. "Here you go, princess, say 'ta'". The ring had little bumps and indentations all over it, and I let out a 'ba ba ba' as I took it from Mum, immediately stuffing it into my mouth. It tasted a little plasticky, but was also quite squishy and soothing to my toothless gums. Before I could start drooling all over my sleeper, Mum had tied a cloth bib around my neck. I watched Mum make breakfast, giggling and baby talking away through the teething ring, occasionally banging it against the high chair's tray. "Are you in a good mood this morning, Meredith?" Uh huh, yes I was! I had a good sleep last night, had an amazing dream about something, of which I didn't recall, but that didn't matter. "Hey hey! Stop banging your toy, you'll break it!" The ring went straight back into my mouth. Mum grabbed a stool from under the island bench, and sat down next to me, placing the bowl of steaming oatmeal on the bench next to the high chair. Grabbing a spoon, she loaded it up with some oatmeal, and offered it to me. "Ok, deary, the choice is yours - either the ring, or the oatmeal?", she cooed at me, with a smirk and a raised right eyebrow. I had no choice, really, so I dropped the ring on the tray, and opened my mouth, salivating for some food. It didn't take long though for my stomach to pass on messages of fullness, causing me to hesitate before each mouthful. But somehow I made it to the end of the bowl, and sat back in the high chair feeling full with some light-headedness from the food coma that was sure to hit me, watching Mum move around the island bench into the kitchen. She retrieved a banana from a fruit bowl, peeled it, and cut it up into tiny pieces, placing them onto a plate. She also grabbed a bottle of milk formula from the warmer, walked back to me, picked me up out of the high chair, and sat down on a couch nearby, placing me on her lap. As I reclined back against her stomach, she offered me a piece of the banana, which I took with my right hand. Although I knew that it was a banana piece, for the life of me I couldn't remember what a banana tasted like. It felt soft and squishy in my hand, yet I had no hesitation in stuffing it into my mouth. While my tastebuds were exploding with the new taste and smell of the banana piece, and forgetting for a moment that I had no space in my tummy for much else, Mum reached over to the coffee table, and retrieved her phone. "Yes, good morning, my name is Jennifer Bradley, and I'm calling to see if Dr Greyson is available to examine my daughter, Meredith, today if possible please? ... Yes, yes, that's her, she underwent NAP therapy... Yes... Ok, excellent, 11am is fine, thanks! ... Ok, we'll be there! Bye!" She looked at me, and handed over another piece of banana. I was in culinary heaven, and eagerly grabbed the offered piece, pushing it straight into my mouth, though not without getting half of it all over my chin and cheeks and nose. "Hehe, silly you, you're supposed to eat it, not paint your face with it!", Mum giggled at me, before cleaning my face with the bib. "I'll need a wipe for this, actually", she mumbled to herself, leaning over to the coffee table again, and retrieving a wipe from a packet. After cleaning my face and hands of the banana, she offered me the warm bottle of milk. Though my stomach was telling me that I was already full, my eyes were too big for my stomach, opening my mouth once more for some liquid nourishment. She supported my back with her left arm, her left hand cradling my butt, and offered the bottle's teat to my mouth. No sooner had I started suckling the warm, amazing tasting milk, stomach messages told brain centres to slow down. Food coma hit hard, my eyelids started obeying the laws of gravity, my eyes rolled into the back of their sockets, and I slowly nursed away into la la land. I woke up with a start as I felt my body in motion. Looking around I discovered I was strapped into the car capsule, with Mum carrying it across a car park towards some large buildings. As she entered one building through a set of sliding doors, my olfactory sensed disinfectant, and I looked up to see big squares of fluorescent lights. With the sounds and movements around me, I gathered we were in a hospital. Mum placed the capsule on the floor, and leaned over a counter to speak to an unknown person. "Hi, I'm here to see Dr Greyson, I have an 11 o'clock appointment?" "Please take a seat just over there, Mrs Bradley, and Doctor be along shortly to see you" "Thanks!", she replied casually, as she bent down to pick up the capsule. Finding a seat, she placed the capsule on the seat next to her, so I could see her. "Did you have a good sleep, Meredith?" Yup, I did, so I nodded, and yawned, my paci falling out of my mouth. Mum leant in and placed it back where it belonged. After a couple of minutes waiting, with Mum texting away on her phone, we were called into the doctor's office. "Hiya Mrs Bradley", Dr Greyson cheerfully greeted us, as we entered his examination room. "And how is Meredith today?", he asked as Mum sat down at his desk, placing my capsule on the desk. Dr Greyson looked in at me, and started to undo the restraints. "Meredith is progressing quite well at home, Doc, but she has some very weird episodes from time to time. Last night it took Keith and I ages to calm her down, it was the worst one yet" "Describe them to me", Dr Greyson asked, as he lifted me out of the capsule, after wrapping me up in my blanket. "Well, she could be interacting with me normally, but suddenly her focus changes, her eyes roll up and get really twitchy, like she's in the middle of a dream, her whole body twitches, arms and legs sometimes get a bit animated, she's spaced out, and largely unresponsive" "For how long?" "Oh, up to about a minute or so" I was totally fascinated by this talk, about how I was reacting physically to my flashbacks. "Is she convulsing during these episodes?", Dr Greyson enquired as he laid me down on an examination bed. "I need to listen to her heart and chest if that's ok?" "No, she doesn't convulse during these episodes, she would often be quite limp" Dr Greyson unwrapped me from the blanket. Mum had dressed me in a light yellow sun dress, so Dr Greyson lifted the hem to expose my little chest and tummy. Placing the cold stethoscope on my chest caused an inhalation of breath from shock each time, and squirming of my legs. "Yeah, her heart is good, beating strongly", he noted. He lowered the hem of my sun dress, covering me back up, and grabbed my hands, looking at them, and then forcing my arms around. He did the same with my feet, examining them, then moving my legs up and down, bending my knees. He wrapped me back up in the blanket, then retrieved a tool to look into my ears. "Does she scream at all during the episodes?" "No, she's quite silent actually. It's only when we wake her from them that she has a crying fit" "And the one last night, what was she doing at the time?". Dr Greyson pulled a penlight from his top pocket, and flicked a beam of light into each of my eyes. I could do nothing but blink in response. "Oh, you've got me there... let me think for a sec. She was in the playpen in the home theater room, we were watching TV. I think she was looking at the screen at the time too." "What was on the screen?". Dr Greyson stopped what he was doing, and looked at Mum. "I think the news was on, yes, yes, that's right", Mum thought aloud "Do you remember what the news item was about?" "No, not really, but now I think about it, Meredith must have reacted to whatever it was" I nodded slowly, looking at Mum the entire time. Dr Greyson laid me back into the capsule. I couldn't see either him or Mum, so I started to fidget, moving my arms and legs. "Mrs Bradley, Meredith looks fine, there's physically nothing wrong. However, if you recall, we did discuss an issue during Meredith's NAP procedure, and I subsequently followed up with the technician... let me see my notes here...". He scanned through a ream of notes, finding the right page. "Yes, yes. Initial stages of the NAP procedure involve compiling character traits. The procedure is so invasive that we can turn individual traits on, or off, or augment existing traits as required by the specifications. Looking at these notes, I'm led to believe that she has somehow retained her prior adult knowledge..." "Which is why she can understand me!", Mum interjected, excitedly. "Yes, indeed. However, this is only temporary", he stated, and looked up to Mum. "Oh, how so?" "If you don't use it, you lose it, essentially. So if she can't use that adult knowledge, it will fade away over time, quite sadly." "How long?" "Could be days, weeks, months, we really don't know, I'm sorry" I was quite still by this stage, listening intently. This was not good news. My memory of Stowe and old mum would soon dissolve away. "Oh, so she will get to the stage where she won't understand me?" "No, on the contrary, she's constantly learning new things, as babies do, and will learn to interact and understand, also as babies do over time." "So her episodes will gradually disappear?" "Yes, she's probably recollecting old knowledge based on events or surroundings, so yes, as that old knowledge fades away, so will her episodes." I started crying once I realised I was bound by an unknown timeframe within which I had to contact Stowe. As Mum clicked my capsule into the car carrier affixed in our SUV, her phone started ringing, emitting a strange ringtone - "It's your daughter, that's right! You know the one, your d to the a to the u to the g to the h to the t...". She quickly reached into the capsule to finish arranging the blanket covering me, closed the door, and pulled out her phone. I started giggling at the silliness of the ringtone. "Hiya Sarah!", I could hear Mum speaking away as she jumped into the drivers seat. "Wait a sec, and Ill set up speakerphone. " Mum fiddled with the phone for a second after starting the SUV, and suddenly I heard a new voice over the truck's speakers. "Mum! How are you?" "I'm awesome, Sarah, baby, how are you?". Sarah was the youngest of the two natural-born Amazon children in the Bradley clan. I'd never heard her voice until now, a voice which seemed strong and vibrant. "I'm great, Mum. Got your message, and yes, I'd love to do lunch today, and meet little Meredith." "I was hoping you'd say that! Is Kaitlyn with you? " "No, Mum, she's in daycare today!" "Aww, I was hoping that Meredith could meet her. Oh well" "Sorry, Mum. Gotta keep working on her socialising skills. Anyway, you did say lunch, and I'm starved!" "Meet me at Bellamys in the Mall, 30 minutes" "Righteo Mum, see ya soon" Jolts of energy ripped through my little body when I heard we were going to Bellamys. I loved the coffee at that place, and those lovely toasted cheese sandwiches they made. Synapses reminded me that we were on our way to Bellamys for coffee when Mummy Henderson and I were run over. Surely, fate doesn't strike twice? Ten minutes later, Mum found a parking spot for the SUV. She spent a few minutes cursing at the back of the truck, fidgetting with something, before appearing at my door with the stroller half of my baby capsule. The capsule itself clicked into the stroller's frame, so Mum didn't have to undo any of the harness restraints, or remove me from the capsule. I was faced towards her, so I couldn't see anything in front of us. The capsule's sun shield was raised to cover me from the hot sun, so my visibility out to the sides reduced even further. She threw a nappy bag into the bottom of the stroller, hung her purse across the stroller handlebars, and we were off into the Mall proper. The Mall began as a pedestrian-only open-air street, blocked off to all traffic bar emergency vehicles. With shops on both sides of the street, there were people everywhere, shopping, eating, and enjoying the fine sunny and hot weather. Looking back past Mum, I caught a brief glimpse of the exact spot Mummy H and I were run over. Within the block beyond was the HH&S office. I wondered whether Stowe was still at work. Looking around, I noticed that Amazons didn't care for an obvious natural baby in a stroller, taking no notice of me. I did see some Littles in various states of regression, from a small group of very nervous adult Littles (a couple of them hiding what looked to be cardboard placards), to individuals who were confined to strollers wearing nothing but a nappy, to one perched on the hip of an Amazon mum, to twins who were led around by neck collars and tethered by leashes under control of their Amazon parents. I really hoped some of those who were in states of distress weren't HH&S placed Littles. As we waited to cross a road at the top of the Mall, I watched an adult Little, around 30 years old, who was strapped into a stroller. His abdomen was encased in a very thick evening-weight plain white disposable nappy, which spread his legs wide apart. The sleeveless shirt he was also wearing had no hope of covering the bulk of the nappy, so I had no choice but to see the yellow stains in the crotch, and a hint of brown skidmarks towards the seat. He didn't look happy, as he squirmed and fidgetted, the hot sun streaming down across his exposed face, arms and legs, a silencing pacifier in his mouth, drool slowly creeping down from a corner. His Amazonian mother looked none the wiser for his distress, which was sad. That Little would be in pain for days with the sunburn he was being subjected to. That one reminder of how bad it could be for Littles made me start to appreciate how lucky I was with my own situation. Being regressed into a natural-born baby's body and mind now didn't seem so bad, though I would have liked to have at least retained the ability to talk. I'd not been otherwise mistreated by Mum or Dad. A block up the Mall, the open-air space transformed into a proper under-the-one-roof major shopping centre. It was hot enough outside that, as Mum pushed me through the doors into the air-conditioned building, I inhaled the frigid air, and ended up holding my breath from the shock of the temperature difference. I knew that Bellamys was near the centre of the building, overlooking a quite beautiful indoor fountain. Give the Amazons credit where credit was due, they certainly knew how to lay out beautiful and functionally relaxing spaces for the population. Mum selected a window table inside Bellamys, through which she could survey the comings and goings through the rest of the shopping centre, but more importantly, get all excited when her daughter appeared around the centre courtyard fountain. I was thoroughly bored until I caught sight of Sarah Bradley for the first time. She was almost the same height as Mum, but was much more petite, slim, but fit. She wore a conservative plain knee-length dress with a stitched bodice which accentuated her perky, 22 year old youthful breasts. Minimal makeup, with some lip gloss, as that seemed to be all she needed. She noticed Mum, and glided across the tiled floor of the centre into Bellamys with ease, kissing and hugging her mum for a good minute or so, until she noticed me. "My, oh my, aren't you the most adorably stunningly cute baby, Miss Meredith!", she cooed and giggled at me, her face not more than about a metre away from me. "May I?", she asked, glancing across to my Mum. "Sure!" Sarah unhesitatingly extracted me from the baby capsule, and brought me to her shoulder, giving me a smotheringly great hug, which looked like it was crushing every bone in my tiny fragile body, but was executed really very gently and carefully. She was as much a pro at handling me as Mum was, as I remembered that she had a baby of her own. She smooth talked to me for a few minutes while Mum ordered the food, cooing and cuddling and giggling whilst tickling my belly and feet. "You've got such beautiful blue eyes, missy princess!" "Here, be a kind mother, and give this to the impossibly cute princess in your arms there", Mum joked, as she handed Sarah a bottle of formula for me. Sarah sat the bottle on the table in front of her, laid me down on top of my blanket stretched across her lap, swaddled me in it which surprised me, and then laid me across her arm (much like Mum did), before offering me the bottle. I accepted the teat, latched on, and started to nurse and suck down my milk-based lunch with a sigh, disappointed that I wasn't in any position to taste one of Bellamy's wonderfully rich aromatic coffees. The two women had ordered sandwiches and coffees, so I resigned myself to my fate, and began to embrace the milk coma sensations. "Hey, Mum, has Mark contacted you yet?" "No, why?" "He's home tomorrow. Their cruise docks about 6 in the morning." "Hmm... So he tells his sister, but not his mother?" Sarah couldn't help but giggle at that comment. "Guess I'm special, huh!". She looked down, and studied my sleeping face. "She's like that all the time, Sarah" "Very cute, but a very slow feeder" Sarah had to keep jiggling the teat firmly latched within my mouth for me to respond with a few more sucks. I was dead to the world as Stowe walked into Bellamys, stopping at the counter and ordering a coffee to go, looking around at those inside the cafe, including one sleeping Amazon baby with two unknown Amazon women. I was wide awake when Mum opened our front door, and carried me into the cool and calm atmosphere of our house. Placing the capsule on the island bench, she released the harness buckles, and lifted me out of the capsule. With a kiss on the nose, she sat me on the rug in the living area, walking off to pack away some shopping in the kitchen. I was initially quite confused, as she was ignoring me. Time to explore then, so I leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the rug, and lifted my butt, so i was on my knees. After a few shaky moments whilst I worked out my balance, and some tentative shuffles, I giggled away, causing drool to ooze out around the pacifier firmly lodged between my gums, dropping onto the tiled floor. "Oh dear, I think you need a bib", I heard, looking up to see Mum bend over and fasten a cloth bib around my neck. "ok now, off you go and play". She wanted me to explore, I realised. Since arriving home from NAP, I'd not been given this kind of freedom, being cuddled, fed, trapped in my high chair, my cot, the capsule or the playpen. So I decided to start with the home theatre room, where I knew some of my toys were located. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle across the tiled floors. The sliding glass doors were ajar, so I tried pushing one of them, which worked, their movement effortless and smooth. My knees felt relief when I crawled onto the thick pile carpet in the HT room. Dad's recliner was folded up, with the playpen pushed in front of it. Under the window sill was a plastic crate full of toys, some of which I noticed were too old and used to be for me. But there was also a handful of bright and glossy wood blocks, varying in shapes and sizes. Some plushies, teddy bears, a few little doll figurines, some rattles, a brightly coloured teething ring, some soft plastic tools, rakes, and little shovels. I grabbed a teddy bear, and put its ear straight into my mouth. I quickly withdrew it, after feeling all that hair against my tongue. So I selected a safer option, dropped the bear, and pulled the teething ring out of the box, which felt squishy against my gums. Strangely soothing too. I was sitting on my butt, contemplating why the ring felt so good against my gums, when I noticed all the little blinking lights behind a glass door in the TV cabinet. Crawling across the carpet to the TV cabinet, my paci swinging wildly from side to side with each swish of my legs and butt, I tried to open the door, but it didn't budge. Hmm, there's a computer in there, and I could see a keyboard too. There was also a games console. I looked up at the TV panel perched high up on the wall out of reach, noticing the little camera lens hung from under the TV. A synapse fired suggesting that the camera may be attached to the console to allow it to sense movement. How could I contact Stowe, I wondered? I was sitting up again, looking at the lens, when my consciousness was suddenly transported into my office. Lounging in my executive chair felt good, but my happiness faded at the pile of documents, books, papers all over my desk. My computer keyboard was front and centre, the screen showing an email program. But touching the keys did nothing, they were frozen in place, the email screen remained blank. Maybe nothing worked in this reality because then I'd be modifying the state of objects, which could change my future, or others futures, and that's obviously not possible, even in this Dimension. I glanced across the desk, my gaze falling onto the picture of Stowe. This is what I was after. I picked it up, and ran my fingers down the photo. God he looked good, such a spunk, ready to rumble in da jungle! My pointer finger rested on his name plate, remembering that it was just numbers "for security". If I contacted him, I could use that number as identification of who I was! Stowe would believe the message was from me! That was the point where my head hit the carpeted floor, I started screaming from the pain, and looking up at mum walking through the doors to the Home Theatre Room, a concerned look etched across her face. ---- Sergeant Jacksen suffered through working in an open-plan office, and found concentrating on his work hard during those times of crisis where the office seemed to be exploding with bodies and noise. Co-workers would constantly refer to him, as their section leader, for advice on issues, cases, reports. No matter the day or night outside, life within Federal Police HQ never stopped, but there were odd occasions when he could look around and see almost noone. When the office was hushed, as it was this beautifully crisp clear Friday morning, he could do his reports, figures for those higher up the chain, or rosters for his team. Occasionally, he'd escape the office, to walk the beat with someone else from the team, patrol around the city in a car, or skip off to lunch or a coffee. Not on this occasion, though. He was head down in a report on protests at the Inter-Dimensional UN, when he heard his desk phone ring. "Sergeant Jacksen speaking!" "Good morning Sergeant Jacksen, this is Mark Bradley returning your call?" "Mark, Mark, Mark, oh yeah!", Jac mumbled as he took a few seconds to remember who Mark Bradley was. "I've been asked by a Private Investigator to get in touch with you to discuss a security matter. Are you able to meet me in Interview Room ... lets see which one's available... Interview Room 5.04 in, say, 30 minutes?" "I'm currently at home, unpacking, so can we make it in an hour's time?" "Yup, we can do that!", Jac responded happily into the phone. "Thanks, I think I can get up to Level 5 with my pass. Is that room inside or outside the security doors?" "Outside, you should be fine for access." About 50 minutes later, Jac walked into the interview room, sat down, set up his laptop, and dialed Stowe's number through the conferencing system. "Stowe here, talk to me" "Stowe, bro, it's Jac, and you're on speaker phone, buddy!" "Jaccy boy, what's up brother?" "I've got Mark Bradley coming up in a sec, got some time to chat?", Jac enquired "Yeah, I'll just shut my office door, wait one ..." There was a knock on the door, and Mark popped his head in, "Sergeant?" "Come in, I've got the PI on speaker phone", as a way of opening the meeting. "Mr Bradley, it's Stowe from Henderson Henderson & Stowe, how are you?", a slightly metallic rendition of Stowe's voice eminated from the speakerphone in the middle of the desk. "Oh, Mr Stowe, I'm quite refreshed after a bit of a holiday? Say, how is Mrs Henderson these days?", Mark leant over the table. "Mark, Mrs Henderson is dead. She was ... *cough* she was deliberately run over some weeks ago", Stowe said quietly. "Her death is part of why Sergeant Jacksen and I have been trying to contact you" Mark looked shattered. Once Michael's adoption was registered, Mark and Sue had no requirement to maintain contact with Mrs Henderson or HH&S, and thus had no idea of the tragedy that befell HH&S. Although they never met Stowe in person, Michael eventually told them all about him. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that news. Mrs Henderson was very professional in her work, and we're so very grateful to her for setting us up with Michael." "Thanks Mark", Stowe responded, trailing off into silence for a few seconds. "Mr Stowe, you've alluded to her death being deliberate, and that I needed to get in touch because of a security issue, does this have anything to do with Michael?", Mark queried, his voice betraying some alarm and stress. "Unfortunately, yes. Mrs Henderson died whilst trying to protect the whereabouts of Michael from some very unsavoury people. I initially thought her being run over was not related, but my investigations showed otherwise. But the HH&S office was broken into a few days ago, and the perps gained access to some documents detailing the adoption of Michael Stone...". Mark looked up at Jac, who was furiously typing away on his laptop. Unknown to Mark, Jac was in the middle of authorising an order for round-the-clock protection of Mark's home address. "... which included your details, home address, and the like. From what I can deduce, both events are the work of the Ramon Family, who are after Michael in particular." "Who are they?", Mark questioned. Jac opened up before Stowe could answer, "Mark, the Ramon Family have long been suspected of having ties to an Inter-Dimensional Mafia, who are very dangerous, as you'd imagine. We also believe Don Ramon, or one of his goons, were responsible for slaughtering Michael's family. Has Michael ever said anything about what happened?" "No, never, though I'll query him tonight when I get home!", Mark shot back. "Mark, you work in Computer Crime & Forensics, did you ever do any surveillance / counter-surveillance training?", Stowe questioned. "Yes, a bit of both. I'm a techie though, Mr Stowe, I don't have a military bone in my body, so I can't slink around like a cat, or defend myself in a CQB fight, if you know what I mean." "Ok, then you need to remember your counter-surveillance training, and ensure you're not followed to or from work. You also need to tell your family to stay inside the house", Stowe coached. "Do you have a gun issued to you?" "No, but I suppose this is as good a reason as any to chase one up", Mark quipped. "Mark, I've arranged for protection of your family and home", Jac advised quietly, looking up from his laptop screen, "... it'll all be set up within the hour. I'll also send you the form required for you to be issued a departmental sidearm." "Thanks, Sarge. Suppose, Mr Stowe, I just give up Michael to this Ramon dude?" Stowe whistled to himself, before answering, "Mark, you don't want to do that. Ramon will still ensure there are no loose ends, so that means your entire family is in danger from him". Stowe paused, to let the gravity of the situation sink into Mark. "He will make a play at some stage, we just all need to be ready for when that happens. I'm sure Sergeant Jacksen would like nothing more than to round up Ramon and his goons, and I have some unfinished business to attend to as well." "And the rest of the Bradley clan? Mum, dad, sister? Will they be affected by this too?" "I think so. They all know Michael has been adopted by you. So that alone would be reason enough for Don Ramon to go after them too", Stowe mused. "He doesn't leave loose ends dangling in the breeze". "Great, excellent!", Mark exclaimed with some anger, before slamming the table and burying his head in his hands. ---- Mum, dad and I were relaxing in the Home Theatre Room late that evening, watching a very funny sitcom on the TV screen. I leaned right back against Mum's tummy, nursing quietly on my pacifier, my hands resting on her thighs, or sometimes fisted up and rubbing my tired eyes. Dad was alternating between tapping away on his phone, and watching the TV. Every time Mum laughed, I couldn't help but giggle. "Who you messaging, Keith?", Mum casually enquired. "Mark! They arrived back home this morning. " "Sweet" Keith leaned over and showed Mum his phone, which was displaying a photo of a cruise ship scene, with Mark, Sue, Michael, and two Amazon toddlers (Kerry-Anne being 3 years old and Thomas who was almost 5). "Cute kids, nice photo!" That was the first time I'd seen Michael since rescuing him. He looked healthy, and happy. The other two looked like bundles of pure energy and trouble. "Yes, quite cute indeed!". Keith went back to his messaging. "Hey, Jenn, Mark has suggested we have a BBQ tomorrow. What do ya think?" "Yeah, sure! I’ll have to go get some groceries though.” Keith returned his attention back to his phone once more. "Would be good if Sarah and her new Little came along too", Jen put it out there. "Agreed" "Ok, I'll let her know it's on. If she turns up, she turns up". With that, both parents were buried in their phones. The laughter buried within the sitcom went unnoticed, the jokes falling on deaf ears. ---- Stowe looked at his watch, which told him quite matter-of-factly that it was close to bed time. With a couple of beers in the belly already, he called it quits rather than order another beer, grabbed his backpack from off the seat next to him, and walked out of the Talley Arms Inn into the coolish evening air. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his car key, turning left to head up the hill towards the Battlewagon, parked about a hundred metres up the road. Just as he reached the truck, an idea crystallised into his mind. Jumping into the drivers seat, he pulled out his phone, set it into the cradle screwed into the dash next to the driver’s side A-pillar, pulled up the mapping software, and punched in Mark Bradley’s street address. It was across the other side of town, about a 30 minute drive. With the lack of traffic at such an hour, he arrived into the neighbourhood within about twenty minutes. Stopping in a street three blocks from Mark’s house, he parked the truck, grabbed his pistol out of the glove compartment, racked it, then exited the truck, locking it behind him. Walking briskly, but quietly, he walked up two blocks, then carefully edged up the side of a hedgerow to a 4-way intersection, looking left around the corner down the street towards Mark’s house. According to his calculations, the guy’s house should be second from the far end of the next block down, and the other side of the street. His heart sank when he could just see through the gloom a number of cars parked, down both sides of the street. As his night vision picked up, and he slowed his heart rate, he started to see little details emerge. The street itself dipped down into a bit of a depression, before gently rising back up and up into the distance. Hungerford Hill it was called. The end of the road, way off in the distance, disappeared into the heavy foggy moisture that hung around after the hot day. Across the street from Mark’s driveway stood a car with a roof rack full of lights - cops. They’d be the 24 hour security detail. Not smart at all using a vehicle that was obviously a police car, but maybe that was the strategy - to scare away the bad guys. Stowe could see no other movement in any of the other cars he could see. He laid down against the hedgerow, with just his head visible if one cared to look up the street. Stowe was a master marksman, a sniper in his SF days, so he knew all about patience. Yes, his night vision was returning to him, but after a while, he was fighting ghost images, formed by the moisture hanging in the still midnight air, caressing the overhead street lights. His patience was rewarded when, about two hours after starting his stakeout, he saw a flicker of light in a vehicle on his side of the street, parked near the intersection between himself and Mark’s residence. Bingo. With his tiredness all but gone through a much-needed jolt of adrenaline, he backtracked towards his truck, and combat-ran around the block, a big U shape, cautiously inching up towards the street corner nearest where he noticed the brief spark of light. Being much closer, he could see more detail of the target, a single body in the vehicle, the person’s back to Stowe, quietly smoking a cigarette, whilst intently studying the house through a pair of binoculars. Who was this person? Just as Stowe was about to step out towards the street, he stopped, realising this was the same make and model of car that had run over Mrs H. How stupid was this guy? Why didn’t he dispose of it? Stowe was conflicted - a pistol shot would attract the cops further down the street, and he had no knife to effect a silent kill. At about three in the morning, Stowe pulled out his phone, and sent a message to Jacksen. [Stowe] Jac! Wake up! I’ve got a lead on the driver! [Jacksen] Don’t do anything, Stowe! Tell me where you are, and I’ll bring the cavalry. [Stowe] Fuck that, this asshole’s mine! [Jacksen] Think, bro, think! You cannot blow this guy away, however much you want to… There really was only one option open to him - withdraw, bide his time, and continue to be patient. [Stowe] You’re right [Jacksen] Just don’t let that fucker out of your sight!

now that your dog has the taste of your used diapers he'll do it again and again and again. God is knows why you haven't even attempted to hide them out of reach of the dog, up high in a cupboard or something, or in a locked/clamped up box.

Loving Mikey's constant "I'll give in just this once"...

Beautiful. Crying on the train on my way to work is not a good look...

I enjoy reading your updates, Mark. They also scare me, as I read of signs/symptoms you're going through mirror my own. But I'm more advanced in some aspects, like freely wetting whilst asleep (or partially asleep). I know my IC has been brought on and is degrading for medical reasons, not through self desire. I keep thinking to myself, yes I can stop wearing nappies, but really, can I? Over New Years break, I wore knickers for the first time in 4 months, and I felt free, baby, free! I wore them so I could go swimming - I wore nappies to bed, and pullups at other times. But on the last day of camp, I wore knickers for the long long drive home. When I got home, my knickers were wet. That's why I can't wear knickers any more. Today was my first day back at work from the Christmas break, so I wore a pullup. I leaked, and spotted into it, passed not much pee into the toilet either. But drank heaps during the day (it's really hot here). Another reason why I can't wear knickers any more. Before Christmas, and after my day surgery in late November, I used to flood into my nappies each time. Over Christmas to now, I've noticed I'm not doing that any more, I'm getting urges, and releasing more frequently, in smaller quantities, with more and more of the "it just comes out" releases, with no clamping of sphincter muscles. I've noticed now too that I'm seeing more and more unexplained skidmarks in my nappies and pullups (i.e those times where I'm not experiencing pressure and pushing of stool). This is the one aspect I'm truly scared of. But anyway, keep up your updates.

I'm _so_ happy this story continues. I get inspiration from this and the "Unlucky turned Lucky" Diaper Dimension stories to start and continue my own quest within the Dimension! I too am looking forward to Stacy's struggles with jealousy. I expect her to ask for regression at some stage, as the urge to nurse seems quite powerful to her. Mate we sure her mum isn't working for a secretive organisation, like the NSA? Having a lowly uni build a supercomputer hundreds of feet into the ground seem a bit excessive, and her sweeping and handling of all the bugs. I'm also not surprised about the lucrative market for Little breeders. Stacey looks to be quite the target too. Should I tie this breeder concept into my own story ("Meredith")?

Keep going! Am loving this!