Alex Bridges

Vol. 2 is not yet on Amazon. I’ve been very slowly revising it and releasing it on Ream. I know I’ll finish it eventually, but my life has changed since I first started writing, and it’s harder to find the time. I want to do a Vol. 3, but we’ll see. I have a lot of projects I also want to do.

Introducing Emma and Kelsey! I'm going to be posting stories about them on my Ream or SubStar! _______________________ CSI: Daycare: When Your Fiancé is Your Daycare Teacher Part 1: The Mystery Begins 25-year-old Emma stood by the edge of daycare the playroom, her cheeks glowing red as she fidgeted with her fingers. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the faint crinkle of her diaper beneath her onesie betraying her every nervous movement. This was not going to be easy. Every part of her wanted to turn around and bolt for the nap mats, but she knew Kelsey, her daycare teacher and fiancé, would find her eventually. Better to get this over with. Taking a deep breath, she shuffled toward Kelsey, who was tidying up some art supplies. Kelsey looked up as Emma approached, her warm smile immediately making Emma feel safe and loved, even if she was about to make a complete fool of herself. “Hey, Bunny,” Kelsey said gently, using her pet name for Emma. “What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” Emma avoided eye contact, twiddling her fingers as her blush deepened. “I, um, don’t want to point fingers,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, “but someone wet this diaper, like, a lot.” Kelsey raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. “Oh? Someone wet the diaper you’re wearing right now?” she asked, tilting her head in playful curiosity. Emma nodded, her eyes glued to the floor. “Yep. It wasn’t me, though,” she added quickly. “I mean, I just go to daycare here. Not really fair to expect me to solve all the mysteries, you know?” Kelsey couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. She chuckled softly and crouched down to Emma’s eye level, her hands resting on her knees. “Well, that does sound like a mystery. Who do you think it could have been?” Emma shrugged, finally daring to look up at Kelsey. “I dunno. Probably some toddler, maybe Milo. He’s always up to something.” “Milo, huh?” Kelsey said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “But how would Milo get into your diaper, Bunny? That seems like a tricky feat.” Emma crossed her arms, pouting slightly. “I don’t know, Kels. I’m just saying someone did it, and it wasn’t me.” Kelsey stood up, still grinning. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to get to the bottom of this. But first, let’s get you to the changing table, okay?” Emma hesitated, her blush intensifying. “Um… also,” she added, her voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper, “still not pointing fingers or anything, but someone pooped this pamper too. Like, a lot.” Kelsey put a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Oh no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s a serious crime. A wet and poopy diaper? This is getting out of hand.” Emma nodded solemnly, clearly trying to keep her composure. “Yep. Big mess. But again, not my fault.” “Well, Bunny,” Kelsey said, taking Emma’s hand and leading her toward the changing area, “we’re going to have to get to the bottom of your poopy diaper bottom. But here’s the problem: if I change you now, we’ll destroy all the evidence. How am I supposed to solve the case if I don’t have any clues?” Emma groaned, realizing she had inadvertently turned her cute diaper change joke into an elaborate detective game. She’d hoped Kelsey would just laugh it off and get the change over with, but now it was clear she’d underestimated her fiancée’s love of theatrics. As they reached the changing table, Kelsey turned to Emma with a determined look. “Alright, Bunny. I’m officially on the case. Detective Kelsey is here to solve the mystery of the wet and poopy diaper.” Emma rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile a little. “Great. Just what I needed.” Forensics Kelsey pulled a magnifying glass from the toy bin nearby, holding it up to her eye as she examined Emma’s diaper with exaggerated seriousness. “Hmm,” she murmured, squatting down slightly to get a closer look. “Heavy saturation. Clearly, someone’s been drinking a lot of juice.” Emma covered her face with her hands, her muffled voice protesting, “Kelsey, stop! This is so embarrassing!” Kelsey ignored her, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Now, let’s see… the poopy part. Hmm, yes. Classic signs of a well-fed daycare bunny. Carrots, maybe some applesauce…” She stood up and pointed dramatically at Emma. “This is a sophisticated mess, Bunny. Someone knew what they were doing.” Emma groaned. “Kelsey, just change me already!” “Oh no, no, no,” Kelsey said, wagging her finger. “This isn’t just a diaper change. This is a crime scene. We need to interview some witnesses.” Before Emma could protest, Kelsey turned toward the playroom and called out, “Alright, everyone! Detective Kelsey is on the case! If you’ve seen anything suspicious, please come forward!” Emma’s jaw dropped as several toddlers toddled over, their curiosity piqued. Tessa, one of the daycare assistants, raised an eyebrow from across the room. “Do I even want to know what’s going on?” she asked. “It’s fine,” Emma muttered, covering her face again. “It’s just Kelsey being Kelsey.” Canvassing for Witnesses Kelsey crouched down to the toddlers’ level, holding up the magnifying glass like a seasoned detective. “Alright, kids,” she said, her voice serious. “Have any of you seen anything strange today? Anyone sneaking around Emma’s diaper?” One of the toddlers, a boy named Milo, pointed at another child. “She took my blocks!” “Noted,” Kelsey said, scribbling in an imaginary notepad. “But we’re looking for diaper-related crimes. Anyone else?” Another toddler piped up, “Emma stinky!” Emma groaned louder, burying her face in her hands. “Kelsey, please!” Kelsey straightened up, nodding solemnly. “Thank you, everyone. Your cooperation has been invaluable.” Part 2: Investigating the Crime Scene The toddlers had dispersed, but Emma was certain she’d never recover from the indignity of having her poopy diaper turned into daycare gossip. She peeked through her fingers at Kelsey, who was now pacing dramatically. “This is no ordinary case, Bunny,” Kelsey announced, spinning on her heel to face Emma. “We’re dealing with a perpetrator who operates in broad daylight, right under everyone’s noses. A serial offender, perhaps.” Emma groaned loudly. “Kelsey, just change me already!” “Oh no,” Kelsey said, shaking her head. “We’re far from done. The trail is fresh. The evidence is overwhelming. We must act swiftly if we’re to catch the culprit.” Emma let her hands fall to her sides, her face bright red. “Kelsey, please,” she whispered. “You’re going to make me die of embarrassment.” Kelsey crouched down to Emma’s eye level, her face serious but her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Bunny,” she said softly, “this is serious. I’m taking this case all the way to the top.” Before Emma could respond, Kelsey straightened up and turned toward the daycare staff. Tessa was wiping down a table nearby, her bright smile faltering slightly as Kelsey marched toward her. Questioning the Witnesses “Tessa,” Kelsey said, holding up the magnifying glass like she was about to grill her in a police procedural. “You were in the room when the alleged crime occurred. Can you account for your whereabouts?” Tessa blinked, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “Uh… I was setting up snack time,” she said slowly. “What’s this about?” Emma, still rooted to the spot, buried her face in her hands again. “Oh my gosh, Kelsey, stop!” she mumbled into her palms. Kelsey ignored her, narrowing her eyes at Tessa. “Snack time, huh? Convenient. But did you notice anyone acting suspicious? Perhaps a certain Bunny looking shifty?” Tessa’s smile returned as she caught on to the game. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, Emma did seem a little fidgety earlier. But then again, she’s always fidgety.” “Hey!” Emma protested, her hands dropping to her sides. “Don’t help her!” Kelsey nodded, scribbling in her imaginary notebook. “Fidgety… interesting. Suspicious even.” Emma groaned. “I am not the suspect!” Kelsey turned to Tessa again. “Did you happen to notice any… peculiar smells coming from Emma’s general direction?” Tessa laughed, leaning on the table. “Kelsey, I work in daycare. Peculiar smells are part of the job.” Kelsey sighed, tucking the magnifying glass into her waistband. “Fair enough. Thank you for your cooperation, Tessa. But the case is far from closed.” Miss Danielle Enters the Scene Kelsey spun around, her eyes landing on Miss Danielle, who had just walked into the room carrying a clipboard. The daycare owner raised an eyebrow as Kelsey approached, her posture radiating mock seriousness. “Miss Danielle,” Kelsey said, folding her arms. “We’re conducting an investigation into a very serious matter. I need your input.” Miss Danielle looked at Emma, who was doing her best to melt into the wall. “Do I even want to know?” she asked dryly. Kelsey smiled innocently. “Emma’s diaper has been compromised. Someone wet it. And pooped it.” Miss Danielle blinked, then set her clipboard down on the nearest table. “I see,” she said, her tone perfectly deadpan. “And you’re the lead investigator, I assume?” Kelsey nodded. “Detective Kelsey, at your service.” Miss Danielle sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, Detective, I can assure you I haven’t seen anyone tampering with Emma’s diaper. But I’ll keep an eye out for suspicious behavior.” “Thank you, Miss Danielle,” Kelsey said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.” Emma groaned again, her face buried in her hands. “Kelsey, you’re making me look like an idiot.” “Oh no, Bunny,” Kelsey said, turning to her with a grin. “You’re making you look like an idiot. I’m just here for the ride.” Re-Examining the Evidence Kelsey walked back to Emma and crouched down in front of her, magnifying glass in hand. “Alright, Bunny,” she said. “Let’s review the evidence. Heavy saturation. Applesauce residue. Witnesses placing you at the scene of the crime. It’s not looking good.” Emma crossed her arms, her face still burning. “None of that proves anything.” Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Then how do you explain the fact that you’re the one wearing the wet, poopy diaper?” Emma opened her mouth to argue but immediately closed it again. “I don’t have to explain anything,” she said stubbornly. Kelsey nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. A very defensive response. That’s exactly what a guilty person would say.” “I am not guilty!” Emma snapped. “We’ll see about that,” Kelsey said, standing up and pulling Emma gently toward the changing table. “But first, let’s clean up the evidence before the scene gets even messier.” Part 3: Solving the Case Emma squirmed as Kelsey led her to the changing table, one hand firmly clasping hers and the other holding the ever-present magnifying glass. The walk felt like a perp walk, and the giggles and curious glances from the toddlers didn’t help. Her face was as red as her hair, and the telltale crinkle of her diaper only made matters worse. “Kelsey, can’t you just change me and solve this later,” Emma whispered urgently. “Oh no, Bunny,” Kelsey said with a dramatic shake of her head. “This is just getting started. You know what they say: justice delayed is justice denied.” Emma groaned. “That’s not how that saying works.” Kelsey stopped in front of the changing table. She let go of Emma’s hand and turned to face the daycare staff and the small group of toddlers who had gathered nearby, their curiosity piqued by the ongoing spectacle. “Alright, everyone,” Kelsey announced, raising the magnifying glass like it was a badge. “We’ve got a real mystery on our hands. Someone—” she paused dramatically, pointing to Emma “—has either pooped Emma’s diaper, or a certain other someone filed a false report about a certain wet and poopy diaper tapes around her waist. And we’re not leaving this room until we get to the bottom of it!” The room erupted in giggles. Even Miss Danielle, who was usually the picture of professionalism, was struggling to suppress a smile. Tessa, leaning against a nearby table, clapped her hands lightly. “This is better than storytime,” she said. Emma crossed her arms, glaring at Kelsey. “I didn’t file a false report! I just… didn’t have all the facts, okay?” The Plot Twist Kelsey ignored her, turning to the toddlers. “Alright, kids,” she said, crouching down. “Detective Kelsey needs your help. We’ve got a mystery to solve. Did anyone see anything suspicious? Maybe someone sneaking into Emma’s diaper?” A little boy named Milo raised his hand eagerly. “Emma stinky!” he declared. Emma slapped her forehead. “Thanks, Milo. Very helpful.” Kelsey nodded solemnly. “Thank you, young man. Your keen observational skills have been noted.” Miss Danielle stepped forward, arms crossed but a smile playing on her lips. “Detective Kelsey,” she said in a mock-serious tone, “do you have any suspects?” Kelsey stood up and spun around dramatically, pointing her magnifying glass at Emma. “As a matter of fact, I do. The evidence points to only one person.” Emma took a step back, holding up her hands. “Oh, no. Don’t even—” “It’s YOU, Bunny!” Kelsey declared, her voice echoing through the playroom. “You’re the prime suspect in the Case of the Wet and Poopy Diaper!” The toddlers gasped audibly, their little hands covering their mouths as if they were part of a courtroom drama. Emma, meanwhile, buried her face in her hands, muttering, “This cannot be happening.” The Interrogation Kelsey pulled out one of the tiny toddler chairs and placed it in front of the changing table. “Take a seat, Bunny,” she said, gesturing grandly. Emma hesitated. “You’re not serious.” “Oh, I’m very serious,” Kelsey replied, her tone dripping with mock gravity. “You’ve been accused of filing a false report. Now sit down, or I’ll have to call in backup.” “Backup?” Emma repeated incredulously. “What backup?” Kelsey turned to Tessa and Miss Danielle, raising her eyebrows. “Ladies, care to assist?” Tessa clapped her hands gleefully. “Oh, absolutely.” Miss Danielle chuckled. “I think we’re all invested in seeing how this plays out.” Emma groaned loudly but reluctantly sat down on the toddler chair with a squish that made her wince, her knees awkwardly bent and her face still burning. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I want it on record that this is ridiculous.” “Noted,” Kelsey said, pretending to jot something down in an imaginary notebook. “Now then, let’s get started. Where were you at approximately snack time today?” Emma blinked. “Snack time? I was here. In daycare. Where else would I be?” Kelsey nodded thoughtfully, pacing back and forth in front of Emma like a detective grilling a suspect. “And what were you doing?” “I don’t know,” Emma said, throwing up her hands. “Playing with blocks and wistfully remembering when I was a normal adult, probably?” Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. And during this block-playing session, did you notice anything… unusual?” Emma glared at her. “Aside from this conversation? No.” Kelsey leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes. “Did you, or did you not, feel a certain… squishiness at any point during snack time?” Emma’s jaw dropped. “I am not answering that!” “Oh, I think you just did,” Kelsey said, pointing dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have our confession!” All Parties Heard From The toddlers giggled uncontrollably as Kelsey spun around to face them. “Alright, kids,” she said. “You’ve heard the suspect’s testimony. But do we believe her?” “Nooo!” they chorused, laughing and pointing at Emma. Emma groaned, slumping in the tiny chair. “You’re all traitors,” she muttered under her breath. Tessa stepped forward, pretending to examine Emma with a critical eye. “Detective Kelsey, I have to say, the evidence is pretty compelling.” Miss Danielle nodded. “It’s an open-and-shut case, if you ask me.” Kelsey turned back to Emma, crossing her arms. “Bunny,” she said, her tone suddenly serious, “I need you to come clean. The more you deny it, the worse it’s going to look.” Emma glared at her. “I’m not denying anything! I just… I didn’t know, okay? It’s not like I have a diaper radar or something.” Kelsey leaned in, her face mere inches from Emma’s. “So, you’re saying the diaper just… magically filled itself?” Emma hesitated, realizing too late that she’d backed herself into a corner. “I mean… maybe?” Kelsey straightened up, shaking her head. “Bunny, Bunny, Bunny,” she said with exaggerated disappointment. “Lying to a detective? That’s a serious offense.” The Final Confession By now, the entire daycare was in stitches. Even Emma couldn’t suppress a smile, though she tried to hide it by biting her lip. Kelsey, ever the performer, wasn’t about to let up. “I’m giving you one last chance, Bunny,” she said, pulling out the magnifying glass again. “Did you, or did you not, wet and poop this diaper?” Emma looked at the toddlers, at Tessa and Miss Danielle, and finally back at Kelsey. Her face was still beet red, but there was a twinkle of reluctant amusement in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I did it! It was me! I wet the diaper, and I pooped it too. Are you happy now?” The room erupted in cheers, the toddlers clapping and laughing as if they’d just witnessed the conclusion of an epic courtroom drama. Kelsey grinned, tucking the magnifying glass into her pocket. “Case closed,” she said triumphantly. “Detective Kelsey always gets her Bunny.” Emma groaned, hiding her face in her hands again. “You’re the worst,” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her true feelings. Part 4: The Arrest and Trial of Emma Bunny The room had returned to its usual hum of daycare activity, but Emma lay flat on the changing on the changing table, the strap buckled over her chest like a defendant shackled for trial. She crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks still pink from the ridiculous spectacle Kelsey had orchestrated. Kelsey, however, was just getting started. With an exaggerated flourish, she pulled a toddler-sized chair over to sit beside the changing table. She stood on it, holding her imaginary notebook in one hand and the toy magnifying glass in the other. “All rise!” Kelsey announced in a dramatic voice, her tone echoing that of a stern courtroom judge. She cast a mock glare at Emma, whose jaw dropped. “You’re kidding,” Emma said, her blush deepening. Kelsey ignored her, pounding on the side of the changing table like a judge’s gavel. “We’re now in session to determine the guilt—or, let’s face it, the obvious guilt—of one Emma Bunny.” Emma groaned, covering her face. “I confessed! This is so unnecessary,” she mumbled through her hands. Kelsey grinned. “The court disagrees. Let the trial begin!” Presenting the Evidence Kelsey stood up, circling the changing table as though addressing an invisible jury. “Ladies, gentlemen, and toddlers,” she began, her voice filled with dramatic flair. “We have before us a diaper—no, a crime scene—that is soaked, squishy, and suspicious. But that is not the crime we are hear for today. No, we are hear because this defendant is accused of filing a false report of tampered pampers. Let’s review the evidence, shall we?” Emma peeked through her fingers, already cringing. “Kelsey…” “Exhibit A!” Kelsey announced, pointing to Emma’s diaper. “The wetness levels. Unprecedented. Saturation like this doesn’t just happen, folks. It takes determination. Guts. And, dare I say it, juice boxes.” The toddlers giggled from their spots nearby, clearly loving every second of this. Emma, however, was sinking further into the changing table. “Exhibit B!” Kelsey continued, holding up an imaginary document. “The poopy part. Experts—aka me—have confirmed traces of applesauce and carrots. Classic daycare lunch items.” Emma groaned. “Why do you have to say it like that?” “And finally,” Kelsey said, leaning in close to Emma with a playful smirk, “Exhibit 😄 a full confession from the accused.” Emma sat up, pointing a finger at Kelsey. “You interrogated me! That confession doesn’t count.” Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “Objection overruled.” Emma threw her hands up in defeat. “This is ridiculous.” The Sentencing Kelsey turned back to the imaginary jury, her tone suddenly solemn. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve heard the evidence. We’ve seen the crime scene. And we’ve heard the accused’s very own words. There’s only one verdict that makes sense.” She paused dramatically, pointing at Emma. “Emma Bunny, you are hereby sentenced to the title of… Poopy Diaper Princess!” The toddlers erupted in laughter, clapping and pointing at Emma as she covered her face in both hands. “Oh my gosh, Kelsey, why?” she whined, her voice muffled. Kelsey ignored her, pulling out an imaginary crown and placing it on Emma’s head. “Your royal highness,” she said, bowing deeply. “May your reign be squishy and long.” Emma peeked out from behind her hands, glaring at Kelsey. “You are impossible.” “And yet,” Kelsey said, her grin widening, “you still love me.” Emma groaned but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe.” The Punishment Kelsey set the toy magnifying glass aside and climbed up onto the changing table beside Emma. “Alright, Bunny,” she said, her tone softening. “You’ve been sentenced. But every royal needs a little TLC, don’t you think?” Emma narrowed her eyes. “What are you planning?” “Oh, nothing much,” Kelsey said innocently, leaning closer. “Just this!” She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Emma and planting a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. Emma squealed, trying to squirm away, but Kelsey held on tight. “Stop it!” Emma cried, though the giggle bubbling up in her throat betrayed her. Kelsey grinned, pulling back just enough to wiggle her fingers in front of Emma’s face. “Tickle monster is coming!” she teased. “No, no, no!” Emma protested, laughing uncontrollably as Kelsey’s fingers found her sides. She squirmed and giggled, her attempts to escape half-hearted at best. “Admit it,” Kelsey said between tickles. “You’re the best Poopy Diaper Princess there ever was!” “Never!” Emma gasped, her laughter ringing through the playroom. Kelsey relented after a few more moments, letting Emma catch her breath. Emma sighed heavily, leaning against Kelsey’s shoulder as the giggles subsided. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured. “And you love me for it,” Kelsey replied, wrapping an arm around Emma’s shoulders. Emma didn’t respond right away, letting herself relax into Kelsey’s embrace. She felt safe, warm, and oddly comforted despite the embarrassing spectacle. After a moment, she nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.” Kelsey pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Emma’s head. “Good,” she said. “Now, my little Bunny, let’s get you changed before your royal doodies overwhelm the kingdom.” Part 5: Aftermath Emma lay on the changing table, her cheeks still pink from all the teasing and laughter. Kelsey, ever the performer, stood beside her, snapping a fresh pair of gloves onto her hands with the exaggerated air of a surgeon about to perform a life-saving procedure. “Alright, Bunny,” Kelsey said, picking up a pack of wipes and holding it up like it was a magic wand. “Let the official cleanup commence. We’re about to restore law and order to this chaotic diaper situation.” Emma groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Kels, can’t you just… do it quietly? Like a normal person?” “Quietly?” Kelsey repeated, feigning shock. “Bunny, where’s the fun in that? If you’re going to commit crimes against your pampers, you’ve got to be ready to face the music.” Narrating the Cleanup Kelsey opened the diaper with the theatrical flair of someone opening a treasure chest. “Oh my,” she said, pretending to gasp. “It’s worse than I thought. We’ve got a Code Brown, ladies and gentlemen.” Emma groaned loudly, her hands flying back up to cover her face. “Kelsey, stop! You’re going to scar me for life.” Kelsey ignored her, holding up a wipe like it was a forensic tool. “Time to neutralize the evidence,” she announced. “We’ll start with the perimeter. Standard cleanup procedure, of course.” She narrated each step as she worked, her tone a mix of mock professionalism and playful amusement. “Wipe one: initial contact. Wipe two: backup support. Wipe three: the unsung hero, taking care of those hard-to-reach places.” Emma couldn’t help but laugh despite herself, her giggles muffled by her hands. “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re adorable,” Kelsey shot back, grinning as she tossed the used wipes into the nearby bin. “Now, let’s address the… ahem… squishy situation.” She lifted Emma’s legs gently, sliding the soiled diaper out from under her and folding it up with practiced ease. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, holding up the rolled diaper, “we’ve officially neutralized the crime scene.” Emma peeked out again, her cheeks still flushed. “Can we not call it a crime scene?” “But Bunny, that’s exactly what it was,” Kelsey teased, grabbing the fresh diaper from the shelf. “And now, justice will be served. Or in this case, taped securely.” Fresh and Clean Kelsey unfolded the new diaper with a dramatic flourish, shaking it out like she was prepping a parachute. “Here we go,” she said, sliding it under Emma with care. “The fresh start every Poopy Diaper Princess deserves.” Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re never letting that title go, are you?” “Not a chance,” Kelsey replied, grinning as she secured the first tape. “You earned it fair and square.” She fastened the second tape with a satisfying pat, then gave the front of the diaper a playful tap. “And there we have it, folks! A fresh, clean Bunny, ready to take on the world—or at least survive until nap time.” Emma sat up, adjusting her sweatshirt to cover the top of her diaper. “Thanks, Kels,” she said softly, her blush fading as the warmth of Kelsey’s care replaced her earlier embarrassment. Words of Reassurance Kelsey crouched down to Emma’s eye level, her expression turning gentle. “Bunny,” she said, brushing a stray strand of red hair out of Emma’s face, “I want you to remember something, okay?” Emma tilted her head, curious. “What?” “You can always come to me,” Kelsey said, her voice warm and steady. “Whether it’s a soaked diaper, a poopy one, or even just a bad day. You don’t have to be scared or embarrassed. I’m always here to help.” Emma’s eyes softened, and she felt a lump form in her throat. “Even if it’s, like, a lot?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Kelsey chuckled, pulling Emma into a hug. “Even if it’s a lot,” she said. “Especially if it’s a lot.” Emma sighed, leaning into Kelsey’s embrace. She felt safe, like she could let go of all her worries and just be herself. “Thanks, Kels,” she murmured. “Always, Bunny,” Kelsey replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Emma’s head. “Now, let’s get you ready for nap time.” Nap Time Kelsey led Emma over to the nap mats, where the toddlers were already settling in. She grabbed Emma’s favorite blanket from her cubby—a soft, worn pink one with little stars embroidered along the edges—and tucked it around her. Emma lay down with a content sigh, the fresh diaper crinkling softly as she shifted. Kelsey crouched beside her, smoothing the blanket and giving her a reassuring smile. “Sweet dreams, Poopy Diaper Princess,” Kelsey teased, her voice barely above a whisper. Emma groaned, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you?” “Not a chance,” Kelsey replied, brushing her fingers lightly against Emma’s cheek. “Now get some rest. You’ve had a busy day solving mysteries.” Emma closed her eyes, a small smile lingering on her lips as she drifted off. And for the first time that day, she didn’t feel embarrassed. She just felt loved. _______________________ I'm going to start posting more stories about Emma and Kelsey on my Ream or SubStar!

The ridiculousness was on purpose, because what are hallmark Christmas movies except utterly ridiculous 🤣 Not an error. Just another dose of silliness, like the reindeer he raised from eggs 🤣

I couldn't resist the temptation to tell an AI tool to write a version in Jasper the Dog's voice. Jasper’s Tail of Diapers and Dreams Oh hi dere, hooman fren. Iz Jasper, da bestest doggo in Chestnut Grove. I iz golden retriever extraordinaire, protector of Benny hooman, keeper of all da snuggles, and eater of any crumbs dat fall to da floor. Today, I tells you storie. It haz drama, loves, and even—hold on to ur squeaky toys—diapers. WHEN LADY HOOMAN ARRIVED It all started wen she came to live wif us. Her name Emily. But I call her New Hooman, becuz she smelled new and good, like dat bakery downtown but also like forest adventures. Benny hooman wuz so happi wen she arrived wif all her boxes and dat bright red scarf. “Jasper, meet Emily,” he said, waggin his own tail (hoomans don’t got real tails, but you kno wut I mean). I sniffed her shoes. Den her knees. She giggled. “He’s perfect!” she said. Oh fren, she called me perfect! My tail go THWAP THWAP THWAP on da floor, and I knew—dis my lady now. My pack haz grown. New Hooman is mine to protecc. Also to snuggle. Also maybe to steal sandwich crusts from later. DA NEW ROUTINE Life wif New Hooman wuz good. She and Benny made pancakes one morning, and guess wut? THEY DROPPED A WHOLE PANCAKE. “Oh no!” Emily said, but I saved da day by gobbling it up. “Jasper’s always there for emergencies,” Benny said. Dats me, a pancake emergency responder. But fren, lemme tells you. New Hooman wasn’t just here for pancakes. She and Benny did strange things. Well, dey always did strange things. Benny hooman wears da crinkly pants. U kno wut I mean? Dey make noise when he walks, like crinkle crinkle. But now dat New Hooman wuz here, she helped him wif da crinklies. One time, I peeked into da room where dey do dis, and New Hooman wuz changin Benny’s crinklies. She patted his head and said, “Good boy, Benny.” WAIT. HOLD UP. GOOD BOY??? Dat my title! I iz da good boy! But Benny looked so happi, so I let him borrow it. Sharing iz caring. SNIFF SNIFF, SHE’S SAD But fren, not everything wuz perfect. I could tells New Hooman wuz sad sometimes. She’d sit on da couch wif papers covered in scribblies, and she’d sigh like huge big sigh. I tried to make her feel better by putting my head on her lap. Dis always works. My head iz soft and warm, 10/10 comfort. “Thanks, Jasper,” she said, scratching behind my ears. “It’s just... I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.” Wut? Dis wuz confusing. New Hooman iz da best hooman! She wuz definitely doing da right thing. I didn’t kno how to tells her dis, so I just licked her hand. Benny walked in and saw us, and he said, “He likes you.” “I like him too,” Emily said, but she looked at Benny when she said it. Fren, I think she wasn’t just talking about me. BIG PLANS One day, New Hooman started drawing all sorts of stuff. She called dem “diapers,” but dey looked colorful and fun, like da toys in da window of dat shop on Main Street. She showed dem to Benny, and he said, “Emily, these are amazing.” I sniffed da paper. Smelled like crayons. Benny said, “You could open your own shop.” Emily laughed. “In Chestnut Grove? Who would buy them?” Benny looked serious. “Emily, you’ve always wanted to make something people love. You don’t need the whole world to love it. Just the right people.” Oh fren, dis wuz deep. Benny hooman haz wisdom. He gave her a hug, and I gave her my favorite tennis ball. Dis my way of saying, “Follow ur dreams, New Hooman.” NEW ADVENTURES Next thing I kno, Emily wuz opening a shop on Main Street. Dey put up a big sign dat said “CUTE & COMFY.” I didn’t kno what dis meant, but I liked dat she wuz smiling more now. Da shop wuz full of da crinklies Benny wears, but dese ones wuz colorful wif pictures of stars and flowers and even little dinosaurs. Benny became her model. He looked so proud in da pictures, like, “Yes, dis iz me in da starry crinklies.” When dey took pictures, I tried to get in da background. “Jasper, no photobombing!” Emily said, laughing. But I saw her give me a treat anyway. Heh. Worth it. DA SECRET REVEALED Okay fren, dis part iz big. One day, Emily wuz changin Benny in da back room of da shop. I wuz lying on da rug, chewing my bone, when WHO WALKS IN BUT EMILY’S MOM. She stopped, blinking like blink blink. “Emily, what are you doing?” her mom asked. Benny looked up from da table. He had a pacifier in his mouth. I mean, dis not unusual—he loves pacifiers. Emily’s mom just sighed. “Well,” she said after a moment, “as long as you’re happy.” She jingle jangles her keys for WHAT? Fren, I couldn’t believe it. Dat wuz it? No scolding, no nothing. Just “as long as you’re happy.” Emily looked relieved. Benny smiled. And me? I just wagged my tail and went back to chewing my bone. Crisis averted. MORE HOOMANS IN DA PACK After dat, Emily’s sister Chloe started working at da shop. Chloe iz da fun hooman. She always has treats in her pocket, and she calls me “J-Dog.” Chloe also started wearing da colorful crinklies. I heard her tell Emily one day, “Honestly, I think these are adorable. I kinda love it.” I didn’t kno what dat meant, but I liked dat she wuz smiling. Chloe even found her own hooman mommy to take care of her, just like Emily takes care of Benny. Our pack wuz getting bigger, and fren, it wuz awesome. DA BESTEST DAY EVER Den came da wedding. Benny and Emily got married in da spring, and guess who wuz da ring bearer? Dat’s right—me! I wore a bow tie, and everyone said I looked so handsome. Emily’s mom wuz crying (hoomans do dis wen dey happy, very confusing), and Benny looked at Emily like she wuz da best thing he’d ever seen. Which, duh, she iz. HAPPILY EVER AFTER Now, life iz pawfect. Emily’s shop iz super successful, and Benny gets to live out his dreams. Jasper (dat’s me!) gets all da snuggles and pancakes I could ever want. Chloe iz da best playmate, and sometimes Emily’s mom babysits Benny. She even calls him “her little guy.” Benny wuz embarrassed at first, but now he loves it. Sometimes, I sit on da porch wif Benny and Emily, watching da sunset. “Jasper,” Benny says, scratching my ears, “you’re the best dog in the world.” Yes, I am, Benny. Yes, I am. And dat, fren, iz da story of how we all lived happily ever after in Chestnut Grove. Tail wag.

Here are the remaining chapters! I hope everyone had a great Christmas! _________________________ Chapter 8: Cocoa and Confessions The small wooden booth near the rink served piping-hot cocoa, the aroma of rich chocolate mingling with the crisp winter air. Emily held her steaming cup close, letting the warmth seep into her fingers as she and Ben walked in silence toward the nearby bleachers. The awkwardness between them was palpable, thick enough to cut through the cheerful hum of the Christmas Village. They sat down, the bleachers slightly damp from the snow. Emily stared at her cocoa, her mind racing. She hated awkward silences, and this one felt like it could swallow her whole. Desperate to lighten the mood, she glanced at Ben and blurted, “Should you be drinking cocoa this close to bedtime?” The words hung in the air like a lead balloon, and Emily immediately winced. “I – I didn’t mean – ” Ben chuckled softly, cutting off her apology. “It’s fine,” he said, his lips curling into an amused smile. “You’re not wrong, sort of, not that it makes a difference when I drink something …” Emily looked at him, surprised. His laugh wasn’t forced or awkward – it was genuine. For the first time that evening, she saw something in him she hadn’t noticed before: vulnerability. He didn’t seem less dignified or charming, but there was a small crack in the easy way he carried himself, the always-confident exterior. He still carried himself with grace, but now, Emily could see a hint of effort behind it. They sipped their cocoa in silence for a few more moments, each trying to act like the earlier moment on the rink hadn’t happened. But the harder they tried not to think about it, the more impossible it became. Emily finally sighed and set her cup down on the bench beside her. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. “I’m just going to say it.” Ben turned to her, his expression cautious but curious. “I designed the waistband on that diaper,” she said, gesturing vaguely at his midsection. Ben blinked, startled. “You did?” “Just the graphic elements,” Emily clarified, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Not the functional design.” To her surprise, Ben smiled slightly. “Well, it’s... nice.” Emily arched an eyebrow. “Nice? Come on, Ben. No one likes that waistband. It’s boring and clinical and... so uninspired.” She shook her head. “I hate it.” Ben laughed at that, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Okay, fine. I was fibbing. It’s not exactly... stylish.” “Thank you,” Emily said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “It’s not like I wanted to make it that way. I had all these ideas for something better – something people could actually feel good about wearing. But the company doesn’t care.” Ben’s smile softened. “Well, I think it’s impressive that you care. That’s more than most people can say.” Emily looked at him, her cheeks warming again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. His words felt genuine, not like the empty praise she sometimes got from people who didn’t really understand what she did. Their conversation shifted, becoming less stilted as the awkwardness between them melted away. They talked about their lives, their work, their families. The laughter and chatter from the Christmas Village became a distant backdrop as Ben opened up about his own struggles. “It’s not easy,” Ben said after a pause. “Being in diapers – it’s something I’ve dealt with for a long time. But it’s not just the physical part. It’s... dating.” Emily tilted her head, her brows knitting together. “Dating?” Ben nodded, staring into his cocoa. “It’s hard to let someone get close when you’re always afraid they’ll see this as a dealbreaker. Most people do. So, I’ve never really... been in a relationship.” Emily’s chest ached at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. “Never?” He shook his head. “It’s easier to stay on the surface. You don’t get hurt that way.” Emily frowned, searching for something comforting to say. “A good woman won’t care about that,” she said, though her tone faltered. Ben glanced at her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Do you really believe that?” Emily hesitated, then sighed. “No. I mean... I want to believe it. But the truth is, people can be shallow. I know I’m supposed to say it doesn’t matter, but...” “But?” Ben prompted, his voice soft. She met his gaze, her own steady. “But I don’t mind. I mean that.” Ben studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. Whatever he found there seemed to ease something in him. His shoulders relaxed, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. “Thanks,” he said simply. Emily smiled back, warmth blooming in her chest. For the first time all night, the tension between them felt entirely gone. After a few moments of quiet, Ben cleared his throat and set his cup down. “Listen,” he said, his voice careful but warm. “If you’re not ready to head home yet... I was thinking. I’ve got a fireplace, a stocked kitchen, and a little Christmas cider recipe I’ve been perfecting. Would you want to come back to my place for a while?” Emily blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. But there was no pressure in his tone, no expectation in his eyes – just an earnest openness that made her chest tighten. She found herself smiling. Specifically, smiling at the prospect of getting pounded good and hard like a Christmas pastry, but not in a slutty unChristmasy way. “That sounds nice,” she said softly. “I’d like that.” Ben’s grin widened, and he stood, offering her his hand to help her up. She took it, her heart racing slightly as their fingers intertwined. The Christmas lights cast a soft glow over the snow-dusted path as they walked together, leaving the bustling rink behind. For the first time in a long time, Emily felt completely at ease – and for the first time ever, she was excited to see where the night would take her. Chapter 9: A Hygge Christmas The walk to Ben’s home was magical, a quiet journey through the snow-dusted edges of Chestnut Grove. His property was nestled at the far side of the town’s frozen pond, a short trek from the Christmas Village but worlds away in its tranquil isolation. The house came into view slowly, the glow of its warmly lit windows casting a soft golden light across the pristine snow. Emily’s breath caught as she took it in. The house was unassuming yet elegant, its dark wood blending seamlessly with the wintery surroundings. String lights framed the windows, their gentle twinkle reflected in the icy pond. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the faint scent of wood smoke mingled with the crisp night air. “This is your place?” Emily asked as they reached the front door. Ben nodded, his expression modest. “It’s home.” The interior of the house was even cozier than the exterior promised. The term hygge came to Emily’s mind immediately, though even that didn’t seem to fully capture it. The living room was an open space with vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting flickering shadows across the room. The furnishings were simple but refined – a mix of hand-crafted wood and plush textiles in warm, earthy tones. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, tastefully adorned with white lights and ornaments that looked both antique and handmade. “Wow,” Emily said, her voice soft with wonder. “This is incredible.” “Thanks,” Ben said, smiling as he hung his coat on a rustic peg near the door. “It’s taken a few years to get it the way I want.” “It’s perfect,” Emily murmured, still taking it all in. Ben stepped into the kitchen and returned moments later with two steaming mugs. “Christmas cider,” he said, handing one to her. “My own recipe.” Emily took the mug, savoring the aroma of spices and citrus before taking a sip. It was delicious, warming her from the inside out. “This is amazing,” she said. “You’re full of surprises.” Ben chuckled, then gestured toward the living room. “Feel free to look around. I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” He didn’t elaborate, but Emily understood the unspoken reason behind his departure – a diaper change. She nodded and smiled, amused at the way he defused what could’ve been an awkward moment with a skillful but appropriate cliche. On top of everything else, he was funny. As Ben disappeared down a hallway, Emily turned her attention to the room. Above the fireplace hung a series of framed photos. They depicted Ben in various volunteer roles: planting trees with a group of armless children, guiding a therapy dog at a hospital for the terminally dying, and standing with a team of rescuers in front of a fire truck. In each photo, his smile was the same – genuine, kind, and steady. “You’re something else, Ben Wright,” Emily muttered to herself, sipping her cider. Her musings were interrupted by the soft click of nails on hardwood. She turned to see a golden retriever padding toward her, tail wagging and wearing what could only be described as the world’s cutest Christmas sweater – a red knit adorned with tiny golden retrievers each wearing the world’s cutest Christmas sweater. “Well, hello there,” Emily said, crouching down to greet the dog. The pupper nuzzled her hand, its tail wagging faster as she scratched behind its ears. “And who are you?” “That’s Jasper,” Ben said, reappearing in the doorway. He’d changed into a soft gray sweater and dark jeans, his hair slightly damp. He smiled as he approached, leaning against the arm of the couch. “I found him a few years ago during a search-and-rescue mission. I volunteer with the local team.” Emily looked up at him, intrigued. “Search and rescue?” Ben nodded, his gaze softening as he watched Jasper. “He was curled up with a newborn that had wandered away from its parents, keeping the kid warm until we found her. After that, I couldn’t leave him behind. He’s the reason I started the animal shelter.” Emily’s heart squeezed. “Even your dog is perfect.” Ben chuckled, sitting down beside her on the couch. “Jasper’s just a dog doing what dogs do. He’s the real hero.” Perfectly humble too. Emily smiled, leaning back into the couch as Jasper curled up at their feet. The warmth of the fire, the soft glow of the Christmas lights, and the rich scent of the Christmas tree made the moment feel almost dreamlike. She turned to Ben, finding his gaze already on her. “So,” she said, her voice light, “are you going to tell me how someone like you doesn’t have people lined up around the block?” Ben laughed softly but didn’t look away. “I could ask you the same thing.” Emily shrugged. “Work keeps me busy. And I’m... particular. When I asked my last date if he ever knits sweaters for resuscitated fish, he looked at me like I’m crazy. But he was born in Really Big City, so … Maybe my standards are too high.” Ben nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding someone who fits … I do the fish sweater thing on Tuesdays, by the way. Not for the money, either. I won’t take a dime of those fishes’ money, not after what they’ve been through.” “It is,” Emily admitted. She hesitated, then added, “But I think it’s harder for you.” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” “Because you’re so... you,” Emily said, gesturing vaguely. “You’re basically perfect. And I think that scares people.” Ben’s laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. “Perfect? Not even close.” Emily tilted her head. “You seem pretty close.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly. “It’s not always easy, letting people in. I’ve spent so much time convincing myself that my... situation is a dealbreaker, it’s hard to imagine someone who wouldn’t see it that way.” Emily’s chest tightened. “I told you I don’t mind. I meant that.” “I know,” Ben said, his voice gentle. “But it’s not just about what you say. It’s about what I feel. And trusting someone enough to let them get close... that’s still hard for me.” Emily reached out, placing her hand over his. “What if you didn’t have to trust all at once? What if it was just... one step at a time?” Ben looked at her, his eyes searching hers. Slowly, he nodded. “One step at a time,” he repeated, his voice soft. What a concept. He wondered if she’d come up with that herself. Their eyes held for a moment before Emily leaned closer, her heart pounding. Ben met her halfway, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that sent warmth coursing through her. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as though neither of them wanted to break the fragile spell. As her hand slid to his side, Ben tensed slightly. Emily paused, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Is this okay?” she asked softly. Ben hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I just...” “You’re nervous,” Emily said gently, finishing the thought for him. “It’s okay.” Ben exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ve never... let anyone...” “I know,” Emily said, her voice steady. She smiled, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “And I don’t want to push. But if you’re okay with it, I want you to feel safe with me.” Ben studied her, his gaze flickering with a mix of vulnerability and trust. Finally, he nodded again. “Okay.” Emily kissed him again, her hand moving carefully. When her fingers brushed the waistband of his diaper, he flinched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. She paused, meeting his gaze. “Still okay?” “Still okay,” he murmured. They kissed again, the fire crackling softly in the background. Emily marveled at the way his confidence seemed to bloom under her touch, the way his guard slipped just enough to let her in as her hands wandered from his face to his shoulders, his shoulders to his chest, all the way to his hips. She could hear his diaper crinkling, just barely audible over her own heartbeat Michael Bublé’s cover of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”. She wanted him like Michael wanted that hippo. Michael’s mom told him that hippo would eat him up, and that’s exactly what she was hoping for. As her hands explored everywhere, his own stayed away, and she realized – he’s never been in a relationship. He probably hadn’t been with a woman since he went back to diapers, however long ago that was. He was afraid to touch her or didn’t know how. When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Emily smiled, and she knew she’d have to take the lead, and she was happy to do it. “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?” she asked, her tone light but her intent clear (i.e., to fuck, but in a family-friendly Christmas kinda way). Ben hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Let me...” Emily shook her head, taking his hand. “It’s okay. Come on.” She stood, her fingers still laced with his, and led him toward the hallway. The warmth of his trust filled the space between them, and as they stepped into the soft glow of his bedroom, Emily knew she had never felt closer to anyone in her life. Chapter 10: Trust and Confessions The fire in the bedroom fireplace had long since burned down to embers, and the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the bedside lamp. Emily lay on her side, watching Ben as he stirred. His hair was tousled, his face relaxed, and his eyes half-lidded with contentment. Ben sat up and stretched, then reached for the edge of the bed to stand. Emily noticed the slight hesitation in his movements, the way his confidence wavered just slightly. He glanced back at her and gave a small, sheepish smile. “I should, uh, put something on.” Emily reached out, resting a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Wait.” Ben blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to surprise. “You want to...?” He trailed off, his voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation. Emily shook her head, her voice soft but steady. “Not that. I mean, I wouldn’t say no to Round 4, but...” She sat up and met his gaze. “I thought maybe I could... help.” “Help?” Ben echoed, his brows knitting together. She smiled, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Diaper you.” Ben’s eyes widened slightly, and he sat back on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to... I mean, you really don’t have to do that.” “I know I don’t have to,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I want to.” He hesitated, glancing down at his hands. “I’ve never let anyone... not like that.” “I get it,” she said softly. “It’s a lot to trust someone with, but...” She took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I work at a diaper company, remember? I know what I’m doing. Also, my finger was just in … How much more intimate could a diaper change be?” Ben chuckled faintly, though his cheeks flushed. “Fair point.” “Where are they?” she asked, her tone light, almost playful. He hesitated for another moment before nodding toward the dresser. “Top drawer.” Emily got up, the wooden floor cool against her feet as she crossed the room. She opened the drawer and found a neat array of diapers inside – different styles and thicknesses, arranged with care. Instinctively, she reached for one of the thicker, more absorbent ones, understanding it was the bedtime diaper without needing to ask. She returned to the bed, holding the diaper, rash cream, and powder. “Lay back,” she said gently. Ben did as she asked, his movements slow and uncertain. Emily could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided meeting her gaze. She placed a hand on his arm, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, she smiled. “I’ve got this.” He nodded, exhaling deeply, and let himself relax. Emily worked with quiet confidence, unfolding the diaper and lifting his legs. He let himself be guided by her, and she expertly slid the diaper under him before lowering his bottom to the soft, cottony inside and ushering his knees open. She smoothed a thin layer of rash cream over his skin, her touch professional and unhurried. The powder came next, a light dusting that she spread evenly before positioning his manhood, beginning to stiffen again, downward in the diaper before folding it over him. She taped the diaper snugly into place, smoothing the edges with a gentle press. “There,” she said softly, brushing her hands clean. “All done.” She patted the front of his diaper; it felt natural to them both. Ben sat up slowly, his cheeks still faintly pink but his smile warm. “You’re... really good at that.” Emily laughed softly, setting the supplies aside. “I told you. It’s kind of my thing.” He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this... comfortable with someone.” Emily’s heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to thank me.” They switched off the lights, the room falling into comfortable darkness as they slipped under the covers. Emily instinctively curled into Ben, his arm draping over her waist. “Good night, Ben,” she whispered, letting the quiet comfort of the moment lull her to sleep. “Good night, Emily.” Normally, he’d get out of bed to spin the yarn for the fish sweaters, but he had a new and more important responsibility: being Emily’s big Christmas spoon. Chapter 11: Morning Reflections Emily woke to the soft morning light streaming through Ben’s bedroom window. She blinked sleepily, the warmth of the covers tempting her to stay put a little longer. But the other half of the bed was empty, and as her mind cleared, she sat up, brushing her hair from her face. “Ben?” she called softly, but there was no answer. She glanced around, taking in the cozy details of his room – the handmade wooden bedframe, the neatly stacked books on the bedside table, the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air. Unable to resist, Emily swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her curiosity tugged her toward the dresser where Ben kept his diapers. She hesitated, then opened the drawer slowly, her heart beating a little faster. Inside, she found an assortment of neatly folded diapers, stacked with care. They were all different types – some thicker, some plastic, all medical. The brand she’d designed looked pitiful next to the others. She knew it was an inferior product; she wasn’t responsible for their functionality, as her boss was never shy about reminding her, but she wished she was at least designing boring wetness indicators and patterns for a better quality diaper. There were no pull-ups and, notably, no regular underwear at all. The realization hit her: Ben must wear diapers all the time. She ran her fingers lightly over the edges of the diapers, her mind racing. Why would someone like Ben need them 24/7? She assumed it must be a medical reason. He hadn’t offered any detail last night, and she hadn’t pressed him. But now, standing here, she couldn’t help but wonder. Closing the drawer gently, she made her way to the bathroom. The bathroom was as spotless as the rest of Ben’s home. Simple, masculine, and efficient, with just a touch of rustic charm. Emily settled onto the toilet, letting out a breath as she relieved herself. Her gaze wandered, and her eyes landed on a diaper genie tucked into the corner of the room. She tilted her head, taking in the sight. It looked perfectly ordinary, but the context made it anything but. She realized it was likely where Ben disposed of his used diapers. She sniffed and caught the faintest scent of wet diapers. She thought she might detect something earthier, but she couldn’t tell. She quickly stopped herself. It wasn’t her place to speculate, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask him. But the thought lingered: was Ben afraid to let someone in because he worried they’d reject this part of him? A shameful wave of pity crept into her thoughts, but she quickly pushed it away. Ben wasn’t someone to be pitied; he was thoughtful, talented, and kind – so much more than his circumstances. Still, it was sad. He had so much to offer, and he didn’t deserve the self-doubt, much less judgment of others if it ever came to pass. Or the rumors that might start in a small town, just as the rumor about their date had spread effortlessly. Could she see past his need for diapers? She paused, considering the question carefully. Yes, she told herself. Even if he was bowel incontinent, she wouldn’t care. That would just be another part of who he was, or so she told herself. The thought settled her, and she didn’t interrogate it further. It didn’t matter, as she wasn’t staying in Chestnut Grove past Christmas Day. Part of her even considered leaving on Christmas Day afternoon to avoid the crowds on the train, but her mom would be hurt if she did. She finished up in the bathroom and washed her hands before heading back to the bedroom to get dressed. After slipping back into her clothes, Emily turned to see Jasper standing in the doorway, tail wagging softly. “Well, good morning to you, too,” she said, crouching to pet him. Jasper nuzzled her hand affectionately before turning and trotting away. Emily followed him. Jasper led her to the kitchen, where the rich smell of coffee and sizzling bacon greeted her. Ben stood at the stove, moving with easy confidence as he worked. He’d changed into a fitted sweater and jeans. On the counter sat bowls of fresh fruit, fluffy scrambled eggs, and perfectly toasted bread. The table was already set, complete with a small vase holding sprigs of holly and a lit candle. Emily stopped in her tracks, a smile tugging at her lips. “Wow. You didn’t have to do all this.” Ben turned and grinned, flipping a pancake expertly. “Good morning. And yes, I did. Sit down – you’re not allowed to lift a finger.” She laughed and moved to the table, taking a seat as he added the finishing touches to their plates. “So, what other secrets are you hiding? You’re a chef now, too?” “Studied in Paris during college summers,” he said casually, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. “I figured it’d come in handy someday. And I’m certified as a vegan butcher; I carved those oranges into orange slices myself.” Emily took a sip, her smile widening. “You’re full of surprises, Ben Wright.” He joined her at the table, setting down two plates loaded with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “Dig in,” he said, gesturing to the food. “I hope you’re hungry.” They ate in companionable silence for a while, the clink of silverware and the occasional crackle from the kitchen hearth filling the space. Eventually, Ben cleared his throat, his expression tentative. “Can I ask you something?” he said. “Of course,” Emily replied, setting down her fork. Ben hesitated, his gaze flicking away before returning to hers. “About last night... I just – I mean, you really don’t mind? About me. About the... diapers?” Emily reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I don’t mind, Ben. I meant that.” He studied her face carefully, searching for any hint of insincerity. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you.” Emily hesitated before continuing. “Can I ask... why? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Ben paused, his expression thoughtful. “It’s...,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “It’s just something I’ve dealt with for a long time.” Emily nodded, sensing he didn’t want to go into detail. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks for trusting me with that.” Ben smiled faintly, a mix of gratitude and relief in his expression. “Thanks for not running for the hills.” Emily laughed softly. “If I were going to run, I would’ve done it by now.” She was going to run later, the day after Christmas, except she preferred to think of it as “going home.” They finished breakfast, the tension between them easing into the same comfortable rhythm they’d shared the night before. As they cleared the table, Ben glanced toward the workshop visible through the kitchen window. “Do you want to see the furniture workshop?” he asked, his tone lighter now. “I’ll need a quick shower before I give you a ride home, but you can check it out while you wait.” Emily perked up at the suggestion. “I’d love to.” Ben pointed toward the back door. “Just follow the path – it’s the red barn. I’ll catch up in a bit.” “Got it,” Emily said, grabbing her coat. “Take your time.” Chapter 12: Discoveries and Distance The red barn workshop was nothing short of a masterpiece in itself. Emily stepped inside, and her breath caught as she took in the sight. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, illuminating a space that felt equal parts functional and artistic. Every surface gleamed with care, from the workbenches laden with neatly arranged tools to the rows of carefully stained wood stacked along one wall. Ben’s furniture was stunning. Each piece had an undeniable character – chairs with graceful curves, tables with intricate carvings, and cabinets so expertly crafted they seemed like they belonged in a museum. She ran her fingers over the edge of a rocking chair, marveling at the smoothness of the wood, the attention to detail. “You’re amazing,” she whispered to herself, smiling despite the tension that had lingered since breakfast. For a while, she wandered the workshop, her admiration for Ben’s skill growing with every discovery. The space was clean, organized, and deeply personal – each piece of furniture an extension of the man who had created it. She felt a pang of guilt for the doubt she had felt earlier. Maybe she was overthinking everything. Maybe Ben really was just that kind, that wonderful. Satisfied she’d seen enough, Emily left the workshop and made her way back to the house. The brisk morning air stung her cheeks, and as she stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapped around her like a blanket. She intended to head straight to the kitchen, but she must have taken a wrong turn, because the hallway she found herself in didn’t look familiar. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened a door near the end of the hall. She paused on the threshold, her eyes widening as she took in the room. At first, she thought it was a nursery. The pastel-colored walls, the soft play mat covering the floor, and the toys scattered about all gave it a childlike feel. But as she stepped inside, the details began to register, and the realization dawned on her. Everything in the room was adult-sized. The crib was large enough for a grown person to fit comfortably, its bars smooth and polished. A playpen in one corner was similarly oversized, and next to it stood a rocking horse that looked sturdy enough to hold an adult. A changing table dominated one wall, fully stocked with colorful, babyish disposable and cloth diapers, along with plastic pants in various prints. A dresser nearby was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of babyish clothing – onesies, footie pajamas, shortalls, overalls, and other playful outfits, all clearly made for someone Ben’s size. Her eyes were drawn to the wall above the play area, where pastel stenciling arched across the space, spelling out Baby Benny. The mobile above the crib was adorned with soft letters that also spelled Benny, swaying gently in the breeze from the heating vent. Emily’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned to survey the rest of the room. A table next to an oversized rocking chair held a jar of pacifiers – each one designed for an adult’s mouth. A bottle warmer rested nearby, with a bottle so large it looked comical. Then there was the heavy wooden hairbrush lying on the table. Emily’s cheeks warmed as its purpose clicked. The floor mat was colorful and soft, scattered with toys ranging from plush animals to stacking blocks, some normal-sized and others clearly meant for adult hands. Emily’s gaze lingered there, her mind racing. This wasn’t just a room – this was a fully realized, lovingly curated space. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen. The craftsmanship of the furniture struck her first; even the oversized crib and changing table were works of art. But the purpose of the room was impossible to ignore. The surprise wore off quickly, replaced by an odd, distant sense of understanding. Working at a diaper company, Emily had learned about ABDLs. She knew there were people who found comfort, joy, or even arousal in embracing a regressed role. She’d never felt strongly about it one way or the other, but she did envy the colorful and playful designs often found in ABDL products – so different from the sterile, clinical look of what she usually worked on. Still, this? She had not expected this. Her chest tightened as she thought about Ben. He had let her believe his need for diapers was purely medical. While he hadn’t outright lied, he had let her fill in the gaps. The thought left her unsettled, but more than that, she felt disappointment. Disappointment in him for not being honest, and disappointment in herself for letting herself believe he was perfect. Of course, he wasn’t. No one was. Emily shook her head, quietly returning everything to its original place before slipping out of the room. She closed the door softly behind her and made her way back to the kitchen, her mind swirling. When Ben came back downstairs, his hair damp from his shower and his face freshly shaven, he found Emily seated at the kitchen table, her coffee cup empty. He smiled warmly, though his expression faltered slightly when she met him with a polite but distant look. “How was the workshop?” he asked, taking a seat across from her. “It’s incredible,” Emily said, her voice careful. “You’re an amazing craftsman.” Ben’s smile returned, but it was tinged with uncertainty. “Thanks. That place is my sanctuary, I guess. I’m glad you liked it.” “I did,” she said, though her tone was neutral. She took a sip of water, avoiding his gaze. Ben hesitated, clearly sensing the shift in her demeanor. “Is something wrong?” “No,” Emily said quickly, her smile forced. “Just... thinking about getting back. I don’t want to give the small-town rumor mill any more material.” Ben’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “I can drive you home.” “That’s okay,” Emily said, glancing at her phone. “I’ll Uber.” The hurt in his expression was subtle, but Emily saw it, and it twisted her stomach. “I had fun,” she said quickly, hoping to ease the moment. Ben nodded, though his quiet confidence seemed to have slipped. “Good. I’ll... text you later?” “Sure,” Emily replied, her tone noncommittal. They stood in the doorway for a long moment before Ben leaned down to kiss her. It was awkward, lacking the warmth and ease of the night before (when the two virtual strangers fucked, but not in a slutty way; more of a romcom the-holidays-don’t-count kind of way). When they pulled apart, his eyes searched hers, but she looked away. “See you,” Emily said, stepping into the waiting car. She turned back once, catching a glimpse of him standing on the porch, his hands in his pockets, his head slightly bowed. As the car pulled away, Emily felt a pang of regret. She hated seeing him like that – unsure of himself, hurt. But the image of the nursery lingered in her mind, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had revealed something about Ben she wasn’t ready to face. Chestnut Grove faded into the distance as the Uber drove on, leaving behind the warmth of the small town and the connection she’d felt. Emily leaned her head against the window, telling herself it was better this way. But it still felt off, despite her intention to leave again in a couple days. She had instead said goodbye to him then. Drastically different in some indiscernible if you scrutinize it for a moment way. Chapter 13: Frustration and Fear By the time Emily’s Uber pulled into her family’s driveway, her mood had shifted from confusion to frustration. She replayed the events of the morning over and over in her mind – the beautiful moments she’d shared with Ben, shattered by the discovery of the nursery and everything it implied. It was all too much. She’d let herself entertain a fantasy, and now she felt foolish for those twenty seconds she’d spent indulging in the idea of staying in Chestnut Grove. Now she was walking into her childhood home after having spent the night with a man, and while she didn’t expect any judgment for it, she was primed for a hint of I-told-you-so from Chloe and a massive dose of Make-me-grandbabies from her mom. Chloe was sprawled on the couch scrolling through her phone when Emily walked in. “Whoa,” she said, sitting up. “Who rained on your Christmas parade?” “No one,” Emily snapped, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on the rack with more force than necessary. “Uh-huh,” Chloe said, tilting her head. “You want to talk about it?” Whatever it was, she was already convinced it was Emily’s fault. Love interests are never flawed; protagonists are nothing but flaws. And sisters of protagonists are always right. It is known. “No,” Emily replied curtly, brushing past her sister toward the kitchen. Her mom was there, humming a Christmas carol as she kneaded dough on the counter. She looked up as Emily entered, her hands dusted with flour. “Emily! You’re back. Did you have a nice time?” Emily grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured herself water. “It was fine.” Her mom wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the counter, her expression soft with concern. “You seem a little tense. Something on your mind?” She hoped not; it wouldn’t be very Christmassy to have something on her mind. “Nothing,” Emily said, her tone clipped. “I’m just tired.” Her mom nodded thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully. “If there’s anything you want to talk about – ” “There’s nothing to talk about,” Emily interrupted, setting her glass down with a thud. “Not everything needs to be a big conversation.” Her mom’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t push. “All right. But you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed. The holidays can bring up a lot.” Emily clenched her jaw, her mood spiraling further. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Andrea: Are you free to hang out? Andrea’s reply came a minute later: Swamped with the kids. Rain check? Emily sighed, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. Her mom was watching her, still wearing that concerned expression. “You’ve been working so hard, Emmy. Maybe you need to give yourself a little grace.” Emily bristled. “Mom, I said I’m fine.” She had nothing to do at home all day until midnight mass and knew she could only nap and avoid her mom so much. She needed to get out of there. Before her mom could reply, Emily’s phone buzzed again. She pulled it out, relieved to see Ben’s name on the screen, which made no sense at all under the circumstances but hey why not if it moves the plot forward. “I need to take this,” she said quickly, heading out of the kitchen before her mom could say anything else. Ben’s voice was warm on the other end of the line. “Hey, Emily.” “Hey,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab yet more cocoa tonight,” he said. “There’s a café on Main Street that’s great.” Emily hesitated. The thought of seeing him made her stomach twist, but staying home sounded even worse. “Sure,” she said finally. “What time?” The café was a picture-perfect slice of small-town charm, its windows fogged with warmth against the snowy street. Emily stood outside, arms crossed against the cold, staring at the cozy glow from inside. She already regretted agreeing to meet Ben. Why am I even here? she thought, glancing down the street. She could just leave – text him, tell him she wasn’t feeling well – but she hated the idea of going home and facing her mom’s questions. Ben arrived a few minutes later, his smile broad and genuine. “Hey,” he said, his breath visible in the cold. “Sorry I’m late. The shelter ran longer than I thought. A Saint Bernard brought in a small Saint Bernard that got lost on the mountain.” “It’s fine,” Emily said, forcing a polite smile. “You look great,” he added, his tone sincere. “Thanks,” she replied, her tone polite but distant. “Shall we?” They stepped inside and found a table near the window. The café was buzzing with cheerful energy, the smell of coffee and cinnamon filling the air. Ben pulled out her chair, and she mumbled a thank you as she sat. Ben started the conversation lightly, asking about her day and her plans for Christmas Eve. He told a story about Jasper at the shelter that would have made her laugh on any other day, but she nodded along without much enthusiasm. Finally, he leaned forward, his expression soft but serious. “Emily, is something wrong?” She froze, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. For a moment, she considered telling him about the nursery, about everything she’d seen and felt. But the words stuck in her throat, and instead, she shook her head. “No, it’s nothing.” “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said gently. She sighed, the tension in her chest bubbling over. “It’s my mom. The holiday. Going back to Really Big City.” Ben tilted his head, studying her carefully. “What about going back?” Emily hesitated, then said, “Everything. I don’t have any close friends there. I haven’t been on a date in forever. And my job...” Her voice hardened as she continued. “God, my job is the worst.” Ben stayed quiet, letting her speak. “They don’t care about the products or the people who use them,” she said, her voice gaining momentum. “They just want to churn out the same boring designs over and over again. And my coworkers – none of them care either. It’s like... why am I even there? I’m trying to make something meaningful, and no one gives a damn.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “And the designs. They’re awful. Just sterile, clinical-looking garbage that probably makes people feel worse about themselves. It’s like they don’t even think about how these products make people feel.” Ben nodded slowly. “That sounds... exhausting.” “It is,” Emily said, deflating slightly. “It’s like everything I care about doesn’t matter. No one cares what I do or why I do it.” Ben watched her carefully, then said softly, “So why don’t you leave?” Emily blinked, caught off guard, because Ben was only the fifth person since her arrival back home so the comment was really out of left field … somehow. “What?” See? So out of left field. “Why don’t you find a new job somewhere new?” he asked. “Somewhere that cares about what you care about?” Emily shook her head. “It’s not that simple. I’ve built a life in Really Big City. I can’t just... leave.” Which was her first thought because surely Really Big City, that global center of commerce, couldn’t have more than the one company in need of a graphic designer. “Okay,” Ben said, his tone still calm. “What about starting your own business? You could design exactly what you want, work with people who share your vision.” Emily scoffed. “Do you know how hard it is to start a business? Especially in my field?” Ben nodded. “I do. But it’s not impossible.” “It might as well be,” she muttered, crossing her arms. Ben leaned forward. “Emily, I’m not saying it would be easy. But it sounds like you’re miserable where you are. Isn’t it worth considering?” “It’s not that simple,” she snapped, her frustration rising. “I can’t just throw everything away.” Ben held her gaze, his voice gentle but firm. “It sounds like you’re scared to take a risk.” The words hit her like a punch to the chest, the truth of them ringing painfully in her ears. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She just stared at him, her frustration mounting as his calm, patient expression stayed steady. The silence between them stretched heavy. Chapter 14: Breaking Points The café’s warmth did nothing to thaw the tension at the table. Emily’s cocoa sat untouched as she stared at the steam curling from the mug, trying to push back the tangled mess of emotions she felt. Ben’s words – calm, understanding, and perceptive – had hit a nerve she didn’t want to examine too closely. When she finally spoke, her voice was sharp and cutting. “You want to talk about being scared? Let’s talk about you.” Ben blinked, taken aback. “Me?” “Yeah,” Emily said, sitting up straighter, her frustration spilling over. “You act like you’ve got everything figured out, like you’re so good at helping everyone else. But you’re terrified, Ben. You’re scared to let anyone really know you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben said, his voice cautious. “Oh, come on,” Emily said, leaning forward. “I saw it.” Ben’s brow furrowed. “Saw what?” “The nursery,” she said bluntly, watching his face go pale. “I took a wrong turn in your house and found your secret.” Ben froze, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. His face flushed, and his eyes darted around the café as if he expected someone to overhear. “I – I didn’t – ” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Emily, I never meant – ” “You didn’t mean what?” she asked. “You didn’t mean for me to see it? You didn’t mean to let me think your diapers were a medical thing?” His hands gripped the edge of the table. “I didn’t lie to you.” “You didn’t tell me,” Emily shot back. “You let me believe it. That’s the same as lying.” Ben swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “You drew your own conclusions.” Emily sat back, her arms crossed. “Right. Because it was easier for you to let me think you had no choice than to admit the truth. Because you’re scared. And another thing – what you did was not Christmassy.” She regretted that unnecessary twisting of the knife, but the words had already left her mouth. Ben’s shoulders slumped, the confidence she’d admired in him crumbling. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said softly. For surely after one date he had an ethical responsibility to bare his soul, because, yep, that’s a thing. “I thought you’d...” “Judge you?” she interrupted. “I don’t. I don’t care about the nursery or that you’re an adult baby. That’s not what this is about.” Ben looked up at her, his expression filled with a mix of hurt and confusion. “I don’t care about any of it,” she continued, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t judge you. I had a good time, but that’s all it was. A good time” The words hit Ben like a physical blow, his eyes widening slightly before he looked away. Emily pressed on, her frustration propelling her forward. “If either of us thought – even deep down – that this could’ve been anything more than a one-night stand, we were fooling ourselves. You’re you, and I’m me, and this was never going to work. . I’ve been pretty clear since I got off the train I’m not staying in Chestnut Grove. I don’t know even why we’re both being so dramatic like it was anything other than a one night stand and we’re both somehow surprised by that. Must be all the poinsettias or something.” Ben’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles white. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend himself. He didn’t defend poinsettias. He simply sat there, his expression defeated, as her words hung in the air like dead, withered mistletoe. The silence stretched painfully between them, the cheerful chatter of the café around them a stark contrast to the tension at their table. Emily sighed, her anger fading into a dull ache. “I’m sorry,” she said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t apologizing for what she’d said. “I’ll keep your secret. You don’t have to worry about that.” Ben nodded mutely, his eyes still downcast. “I’m going back to Really Big City tomorrow,” she added, her voice softening slightly. “As soon as we’re done opening presents.” Ben glanced up at her, his eyes searching hers for something – an explanation, a plea, a hint of regret – but found nothing. “Take care of yourself, Ben,” she said, standing and pulling on her coat. “I mean that. I wish you a happy life.” Ben opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his silence heavy and resigned. Emily hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked out of the café. The cold air stung her face, but she didn’t stop to wrap her scarf tighter. She needed to keep moving, to get away from the warmth and intimacy of the café that now felt suffocating. As she walked down Main Street, past the twinkling Christmas lights and festive window displays, she felt a hollow ache settle in her chest. She told herself it was for the best, that there had never been a real chance for her and Ben. But as she turned the corner toward home, the ache didn’t ease. If anything, it grew heavier with each step. Or maybe that was Christmas snow clinging to her stylish yet affordable boots. Chapter 15: A Long, Dark Winter The house felt unusually quiet as Emily walked through the door. Her family’s chatter had quieted to a low hum as the day wore on, but Emily’s stormy demeanor made her the focus of sidelong glances from her mom and sisters. Only her dad seemed oblivious, happily munching on Christmas cookies in front of the TV. Emily shrugged off her coat and hung it by the door, avoiding Chloe’s questioning look. She could feel her sister’s curiosity as she sat down at the kitchen table, nursing a glass of water she didn’t really want, for even hydration had lost its charms. “You’ve been in a mood all day,” Chloe said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Care to share what’s going on?” “There’s nothing to share,” Emily said, swirling the water in her glass. “It’s just... being back here. It’s been weird, that’s all.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Weird how? You were fine yesterday. What changed?” Chloe might’ve suspected it had something to do with spending the night with a virtual stranger, but nope. “Nothing changed,” Emily replied quickly. Too quickly. “It’s just... this place. It reminds me of all the reasons I left. The small-town gossip, the expectations, the way everyone knows everyone’s business. I can’t wait to get back to Really Big City.” Chloe leaned back, crossing her arms. “And what’s waiting for you in Really Big City? You’ve been miserable there for years.” Emily bristled. “I’m not miserable.” Chloe gave her a look, clearly unconvinced. “Right.” Their mom entered the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She gave Emily a sympathetic look as she sat down. “You’ve seemed a little down today, sweetheart. Is there something on your mind?” “No,” Emily said, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Really.” “You don’t seem fine,” her mom said gently. “Is it something to do with Ben?” Emily stiffened. “No. Ben and I... it’s nothing.” Her mom’s brow furrowed, but before she could say more, her dad popped his head into the kitchen. “Hey, are we going to midnight mass or what? Don’t want to miss the good seats.” “Coming, dear,” her mom said, standing. She gave Emily one last lingering look before heading to get ready. Chloe didn’t move. She stayed seated, watching Emily with an intensity that made her squirm. “You’re not fine,” she said quietly. “But okay. Keep it to yourself if you want.” Emily looked away, guilt prickling at her. But she didn’t say anything. The church was warm and packed, the air heavy with the scent of pine and too many mingling perfumes and colognes. Emily sat with her family, her hands folded in her lap. The choir had already started, their harmonies filling the space with a festive joy that felt at odds with the hollow ache in her chest where Christmas should be. She didn’t notice Ben at first, but when he stepped forward to solo, her heart gave a painful lurch. His voice was beautiful, resonant and clear, but there was a sadness in his tone. The song he sang was joyous, but the way he delivered it felt weighted, as though he were carrying something he couldn’t let go of. Emily’s mom leaned over and whispered, “Doesn’t he sound sad tonight?” Emily nodded mutely, her eyes fixed on Ben. He avoided looking in her direction, though she felt certain he must know she was there. She dropped her gaze, focusing instead on the hymnbook in her lap. The sermon that followed was about home and family, about the importance of togetherness to weather life’s winters. The pastor spoke of warmth and connection, of finding strength in those who love you. Emily swallowed hard, feeling the words cut a little too close to the bone. After the service, the congregation spilled out into the snowy night. The air was crisp and cold, and the snowflakes fell softly, blanketing the street in white. People mingled on the steps, exchanging warm wishes and sharing laughter. It was the kind of picturesque scene Emily would have found charming were any other town than Chestnut Grove. She spotted Ben standing near the choir, his hands shoved into his coat pockets as he spoke with someone. For a brief moment, she considered walking over to him. She could explain her outburst, apologize properly, try to salvage... whatever this was. But then she saw her. Meghan Sanderson, her hair perfectly styled and her coat impossibly chic, stood close to Ben, laughing at something he’d said. He didn’t look particularly happy, but he wasn’t stepping away, either. The sight of them together made Emily’s stomach twist. Of course he’s talking to her, she thought bitterly. Why wouldn’t he? She turned away, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Whatever fleeting impulse she’d had to approach him evaporated. She told herself it was better this way. Ben deserved someone who could understand him, someone who belonged in this small town. Someone who wasn’t her. As she walked back to her family, she felt the weight of finality settle over her. She would leave in the morning, return to Really Big City, and put this whole trip behind her. It was the only thing that made sense. The snow fell softly around her, muffling the sounds of the town. She felt completely alone, made worse by the sense it was her own fault. Chapter 16: The Train to Nowhere Christmas morning was a blur. The house was filled with the usual chaos of wrapping paper being torn open, excited exclamations from Chloe and Lisa’s kids, and the clatter of coffee cups and plates of pastries being passed around. Emily had participated, smiling and laughing at the right moments, but her heart wasn’t in it. Now, she was alone in her childhood bedroom, packing her small suitcase. Her presents – a warm scarf from Chloe, a journal from her mom, and a beautifully hand-carved jewelry box from her dad – were neatly tucked alongside the few clothes she’d brought. She zipped the bag shut, her movements brisk and mechanical. Her train back to Really Big City left at 11:50 a.m., and she intended to be on it. She didn’t feel relief at the thought of returning, though – just a resigned sense of inevitability. She wasn’t happy here, but she wouldn’t be happy in Really Big City either. That much felt certain. A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts. “Emily?” her mom’s voice called gently. “Can I come in?” Emily hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah, sure.” Her mom entered, closing the door quietly behind her. She had a mug of tea in her hands, which she set down on the desk before sitting on the edge of Emily’s bed. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just looked at Emily with a kind, thoughtful expression. “I know you’re leaving soon,” her mom said finally, her voice soft. “But I wanted to talk to you before you go.” Emily sighed, crossing her arms. “If this is about me staying longer…” “It’s not,” her mom interrupted, surprising her. “I’m not going to ask you to stay. I know you’ve got a life in Really Big City, and I respect that.” Emily blinked, caught off guard by her mom’s tone. It wasn’t pushy or insistent – just calm and understanding. Her mom continued, “I just wanted to say... it’s okay to come home.” Emily frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” her mom said, folding her hands in her lap, “it’s okay to feel like you don’t have it all figured out. To feel stuck or scared or like you’ve taken the wrong path. And it’s okay to come home when you feel that way. It’s okay to start over.” Emily looked away, her chest tightening. “I’m not starting over. I’m 25. I’ve worked too hard to get one notch above entry-level.” “I know you have,” her mom said gently. “But working hard doesn’t mean you can’t change direction. Sometimes starting over doesn’t mean throwing everything away. It just means choosing a different way forward.” Emily stayed silent, staring at the suitcase on her bed. Her mom took a deep breath, then added, “Chloe said you seemed so happy that first night you were home. She said it was like you finally relaxed for the first time in years.” Emily shook her head. “That’s just Chloe exaggerating.” “I don’t think it is,” her mom said softly. “You’ve always been so driven, Emmy. You’ve always wanted to do something meaningful, to help people. But if where you are now isn’t making you happy – if it’s not giving you the chance to follow your dreams – then maybe it’s time to rethink things.” Emily glanced at her mom, the knot in her chest tightening further. “It’s not that simple, Mom.” Her mom smiled faintly. “I know it’s not. But whatever’s bothering you about being here, or about Really Big City, or about life in general – it’s fixable. I know you don’t believe that right now, but it is.” Emily pressed her lips together, her eyes burning. “What if it’s not? What if I just keep making mistakes and end up miserable no matter what I do?” Her mom reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “Then you try again. And again. Because happiness isn’t a straight line, Emmy. It’s a path with a lot of detours. But the important thing is to keep going, to keep looking for the things and the people that bring you joy.” Emily swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I don’t know where to start.” “You don’t have to figure it all out today,” her mom said. “Just take one step at a time. And remember, you’ve got options. You’ve got so many paths to happiness, wherever you go.” For a long moment, Emily didn’t say anything. She felt something stir in her chest – something warm and comforting – but she shoved it down. She couldn’t let herself give in to the hope her mom’s words inspired. It was easier to be fatalistic, to believe that nothing would change, no matter what she did. “Thanks, Mom,” she said finally, her voice quiet. Her mom smiled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze before standing. “I’ll let you finish packing. But remember – whatever happens, you’ve got a family who loves you and believes in you.” Emily nodded, watching as her mom left the room. She felt a pang of guilt for brushing her off, but she couldn’t bring herself to say more. The train station was quiet when Emily arrived, the snow falling in soft, lazy flakes. She stood on the platform with her suitcase at her side, her breath visible in the cold air. The platform was nearly empty, save for a few other passengers waiting for the same train. She thought about her mom’s words, about the warmth in her voice and the genuine care in her eyes. For the first time in hours, Emily had felt truly seen, truly understood. But that warmth only made her decision to leave feel heavier. It was too late to change things now. She’d already packed, already booked her ticket. The train’s whistle echoed in the distance, signaling its approach. Emily took a deep breath, bracing herself. She was going back to Really Big City, to her job, to her empty apartment, to the life she had built – even if it no longer felt like hers. A fleeting thought crossed her mind – this all-or-nothing thinking and resignation to misery could be symptoms of bipolar disorder. But that thought was soon replaced by another – Santa lives at the North Pole even when it’s not Christmas, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. The train pulled into the station, its doors hissing open. Steam, so much steam, especially for a train that doesn’t run on steam. Emily picked up her suitcase and stepped aboard, her heart heavy with doubt and longing. She found her seat by the window and watched as the town she’d grown up in faded into the snowy distance. She told herself it was better this way. She told herself she was doing the right thing. But as the train rumbled toward Really Big City, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d left something important behind. Family, friends, Ben, Christmas, for she was already thinking of New Year’s. Chapter 17: Doodles and Dreams The familiar hum of the city surrounded Emily as she sat in her tiny Really Big City apartment. The radiator clanged in protest, barely managing to keep the winter chill at bay. Outside her window, the streetlights cast a dull orange glow onto the slush-covered pavement below. She curled up on her worn-out couch, a glass of red wine balanced precariously on the armrest beside her. The apartment felt smaller than ever, its walls seeming to close in around her. She’d missed it when she was home in Chestnut Grove – or at least she’d told herself she had. Now, back in the space she’d worked so hard to claim, it felt like a Pyric prize. She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the dark liquid cling to the sides before taking a sip. The bitterness on her tongue mirrored the heaviness in her chest, mentioned now so many times one must wonder if there’s something wrong with her cardiovascular system. She’d made her choice – come back to Really Big City, stick with the life she’d built – but it didn’t feel like a choice at all. Staying in Chestnut Grove had never been an option. She wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. Was she? No. Or … was she? Her thoughts turned to her family, to her mom’s speech that morning, and to the train ride back. And then, inevitably, to Ben. She groaned, setting the glass down on the coffee table and rubbing her temples. She didn’t want to think about him. About his warmth, his kindness, the way he’d listened to her rant about her job without judgment. The way he’d looked at her that night in his workshop, like he saw her in a way no one else had before. “Stop,” she muttered to herself, standing abruptly. She needed a distraction. Something, anything, to pull her out of this spiral. Her eyes landed on her old sketchpad, tucked into the corner of the bookshelf. She hadn’t touched it in months, but now, without really thinking about it, she grabbed it and settled back onto the couch. She flipped through the pages, smiling faintly at the old sketches of cityscapes, fashion designs, and abstract doodles. The clean white page of a blank sheet stared back at her, inviting her to start fresh. At first, her pencil moved aimlessly. She doodled a few swirls and shapes, letting her mind wander. But gradually, the shapes began to take form. She found herself sketching diapers – not the dull, clinical designs she was used to at work, but something different. Her hand moved faster, sketching bold lines and playful patterns. One diaper had bright polka dots and a cheerful bow tie design. Another was sleek and understated, with soft pastels and subtle detailing that felt dignified. She drew one with a lacy edge, something flirty and bold, then followed it with another featuring elegant floral patterns that looked more like lingerie. She flipped to a fresh page, her movements becoming more confident. A diaper with a galaxy print emerged, dark blues and purples blending into starbursts of white. Another with art deco detailing, geometric shapes adding a touch of sophistication. Her designs reflected a freedom she’d never felt at work – a sense of fun and creativity that made her heart race. And then, without realizing it, she began to draw a figure wearing one of her designs. The lines of the body were quick at first, loose and sketchy, but as she added details, the figure began to take shape. Broad shoulders. A strong jawline. Messy hair that seemed to fall just so. Her pencil paused, hovering over the page as recognition struck. It was Ben. She swallowed hard but didn’t stop. She kept drawing, her hand moving with a mind of its own. She drew him standing confidently, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing the galaxy-print diaper she’d just designed. Another sketch showed him sitting casually in a chair, his expression thoughtful, wearing the dignified pastel design. She flipped to another page, the wine forgotten on the table beside her. In this sketch, he was smiling, his warmth radiating off the page as he modeled a playful polka-dot diaper. She added details to his face – the gentle curve of his lips, the soft lines around his eyes that hinted at his kindness. The next sketch was more intimate. Ben reclined on a plush chair, wearing the lacy, flirtatious design. His expression was vulnerable, almost shy, but his posture was relaxed. She added shading to the fabric, giving the sketch depth and texture. Page after page filled with Ben’s likeness, each one wearing a different design. She drew him laughing, his head tilted back as though someone had just told a joke. She drew him looking contemplative, his gaze distant as though lost in thought. She drew him holding Jasper, the dog’s cheerful energy a contrast to the soft elegance of the diaper he wore. By the time she reached the end of the pad, her hand was cramped and her eyes heavy. The table before her was covered with loose sketches – some polished, some rough, all of them undeniably hers for she was the only one there. And all of them undeniably Ben. She stared at the drawings, her chest tightening. She’d started the evening feeling aimless and disconnected, but now her heart felt full. Full of ideas. Full of longing. Full of regret. The pencil slipped from her hand, and she leaned back in her chair, exhaustion washing over her. Before she knew it, her head rested on the edge of the table, her eyes fluttering shut. The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was the image of Ben smiling up at her from the page, wearing her favorite design. Chapter 18: The Mistake The harsh light of the morning made Emily squint as she woke up. Her neck ached from the awkward angle she had fallen asleep at, hunched over her desk. Her head was heavy with the weight of her regret. She blinked, still half-groggy, and stared down at the open page in front of her. She had stayed up drawing until her eyes refused to stay open anymore. The designs had taken over her thoughts – diaper designs, yes, but also images of Ben, sitting comfortably in them. She didn't know why she'd been so harsh with him. He had been nothing but kind to her, even when she was at her worst, which was pretty much constantly. And now he was gone. She had left, she'd made her decision, and now she was regretting it. Every word she'd said to him, every sharp edge in her tone when she accused him, felt like a blow to her heart now. He didn’t deserve any of it. She couldn't leave it like this. With sudden resolve, Emily gathered her things: her sketchbook, her impeccably tailored camel-colored cashmere coat, her scarlet red cashmere scarf, and her cream-colored cashmere beanie. She wasn’t going to leave things unresolved. She was going to fix it and look cozy doing it, dammit! Every minute of the train ride seemed to stretch forever. She couldn’t get the image of Ben out of her head. What was he doing now? Was he still at home, still stewing over what she’d said, or had he gotten over it? Either way, she wasn’t about to let it go. She needed to see him. She had to apologize, tell him she was sorry for how she’d treated him and hope against hope it wasn’t too late. When she arrived in Chestnut Grove, her heart raced. The cab driver, recognizing the unhinged look of a woman trying salvage the rest of her life through a single gesture of true love, turned in his seat and said, “I know a women trying to salvage the rest of her life through a single gesture of true love when I see one!” and raced to Ben’s house. The cab hadn’t come to a stop when Emma leapt out in his driveway. She wasn’t going to wait. She knocked repeatedly on the door, calling his name. “Ben! Ben, please!” But the house was silent. No answer. She hesitated, but then turned on her heel, her breath coming in quick bursts as she hurried to the workshop. She knocked on the door there too, but again, silence. No Ben. Emily’s anxiety grew. She ran back into town, trying every place she could think of. The animal shelter. The library. The little corner store. No Ben. She rushed next to the café where she’d spurned him merely two days ago. Perhaps he was tucked into the corner reading Dickens. Perhaps he was seated at the counter, drinking his fourth cocoa, heedless of the waitress’s urging to switch to warm milk, lovelorn and pining. But no Ben. Just as she was about to give up for an hour, give-or-take, and try his house again – for that it where Ben lived – she saw through the snow-flecked windows of the café a familiar silhouette. Ben. He was on the driver's seat of an old-fashioned, intricately carved sleigh pulled by reindeer. Ben had filled the sleigh he built himself with much-need groceries, for nourishing the body and baskets of homemade cakes, pies, and candies for nourishing the soul, and harnessed up the team of reindeer he had raised himself from the moment they hatched. He was headed for the homes of Chestnut Grove’s most vulnerable. His home-distilled absinthe kept the philosophy majors philosophizing, and his plant-based protein saw more than one vegan, ill-suited to the New England winter, alive ‘til the first thaw. Emily’s heart swelled, her guilt deepening. She had seen this side of him before – the way he quietly helped, the way he gave back without a second thought. It was who he was. The thought of how cruel she had been to him made her stomach turn. She rushed to the door to dash down Main Street to reach him, but the door flew open just as her hand reached it. Meghan, the mean girl from high school, filled the doorway, except not entirely because she was unfairly slender. Emily stopped short, and Meghan sneered. “Well, if it isn’t the I’ll-never-come-back-to...” Meghan began, a cruel smirk on her face. Emily didn’t even give her a chance to finish, bowling her over. "You'll always be a cunt, Meghan!" she threw over her shoulder. Maybe not as incisive as what Andrea would’ve said, but Andrea would be proud when she heard – as surely the news would get around the small town – that someone had finally fucking said it. Emily ran down the snowy street, calling out Ben’s name, her voice cutting through the chill air. “Ben! Ben, wait!” But the sound of her voice was drowned out by the sleighbells. The sleigh kept moving further down the street, the reindeer trotting slowly ahead, and Ben’s back remained turned to her. She called his name louder, her feet slipping in the snow as she tried to hurry. “Ben! Ben, it’s me! Please, wait!” Suddenly, Ben heard her. He turned, just in time to see Emily lose her footing. She slipped on the snow, her arms flailing for a moment before she landed softly in a deep bank of snow. Ben was off the sleigh and fishing Emily out of the snow in a flash. In her own scramble, she pulled Ben off his feet, and he fell next to her, face to face. Emily was too overcome to be embarrassed. Words of apology tumbled out of her faster than the snow swirling around them. Chapter 19: That Could Be Us She wasn’t even sure if she was making sense. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have – shouldn’t have said what I did – shouldn’t have left – shouldn’t have – ” Ben brushed snow off her shoulders in a quiet, methodical way, as though her words weren’t tumbling out faster than the swirling flakes around them. He had prepared himself to be polite but distant if he ever saw her again, unwilling to risk reopening the wound she had left. But now, as her voice trembled and broke with longing, and her eyes shone with something desperate and raw, he couldn’t help but soften. He always was a sucker for an absolute nutcase. His lips turned, almost involuntarily, into a small, warm smile. “Emily,” he said softly, breaking through her torrent of words. His hands settled gently on her shoulders, giving her a grounding shake. “Emily.” Her words trailed off as her gaze lifted to meet his. She saw his smile – tentative, kind, and unexpected – and her heart stuttered. Embarrassment prickled at her, but she found herself smiling back, a sheepish, almost apologetic grin. “You have snow on you,” she said, brushing at the flakes on his coat. They both let out a single, amused chuckle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break the tension in the air between them. “What on earth...” Ben started to say, his voice tinged with disbelief. Emily cut him off, more composed now but still unable to meet his eyes. “I had to come back,” she said, her voice quieter but resolute. “And tell you you were right. And I’m sorry.” Ben stilled, watching her with a mix of curiosity and something deeper – hope. “What do you mean?” he asked. Emily took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly. “You were right about everything. About me being unhappy. About me being afraid to take risks and follow my dreams. I got mad at you because you saw right through me. And I hated that you were right.” Ben’s expression softened further, but he didn’t interrupt. Of course he saw right through her, Ben, the most understanding and perceptive bachelor in New England. “I told myself I had no choice but to go back to Really Big City,” Emily continued, her voice shaking. “Because I was scared. Scared of staying here. Scared of letting this place – and you – pull me back in. I didn’t want to be known as the girl who couldn’t make it in Really Big City.” Her words hung in the air, her breath visible as it escaped her lips. Ben waited, giving her the space to speak at her own pace. “And I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking slightly, “for the way I reacted to... your nursery. You weren’t dishonest with me. I got mad because I needed an excuse – not for you, but for myself. An excuse to run away, to not let myself feel anything for you.” Ben hesitated, his heart pounding. “Did it work?” he asked gently. “No feelings for me at all?” Emily flushed, her cheeks burning despite the cold. She pulled her sketchbook from her coat pocket and flipped it open. “I started drawing last night,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Diapers. The kind I’ve always wanted to design.” Ben blinked as she held the book out to him. He took it carefully, his eyes widening as he flipped through the pages. Each sketch was more detailed than the last – colorful, playful, dignified, even elegant. Even sexy. The designs were like nothing he’d ever seen before, reflecting Emily’s passion in every drawn line. “They’re amazing,” he murmured, but Emily wasn’t done. She leaned closer, turning to another page. “I kept drawing,” she said. “And then... this happened.” The page she pointed to showed a model wearing her designs. At first, the figure was nondescript, but as the sketches progressed, the model began to take on familiar features – Ben’s features. Ben’s breath caught as he stared at the pages. His hair. His jawline. His shoulders. His likeness was unmistakable. He flipped through slowly, taking in each sketch, until Emily hesitated and placed a hand on the book to stop him. “And then, on the train,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I drew this.” She flipped to the final page and turned the book toward him. Ben stared at the drawing, his heart pounding. It was a scene set in his nursery. Benny – his little side – sat on the colorful play mat, dressed in babyish pajamas with toys scattered around him. Emily knelt beside him in the drawing, helping him play and holding a fresh diaper. “That could be us,” Emily said softly, her voice trembling with vulnerability. Ben was speechless. He stared at the sketch, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing and hearing. He swallowed hard, his voice shaky as he finally asked, “You mean it? You really don’t mind that I’m... that I’m a little?” Emily met his gaze, her own eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I even like it. I see it as... as an extension of you. It proves you’re not the superhuman everyone thinks you are. The sweet, kind man who takes care of everyone and everything around him... he’s also a sweet, kind little boy who needs someone to take care of him. I can be that someone. If you still want me after the way I’ve behaved and are prepared to make a the biggest life choice there is on the basis of a single date.” Ben let out a shaky laugh, his hands trembling as he closed the sketchbook and held it to her chest. “I do,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I want you even if you don’t want to be my mommy. I want just want you, Emily. Every part of you.” “I want every part of you too,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ve always loved diapers – not in the same way you do, but in my own way. It must be fate.” They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them quite able to believe the way they were talking, as though they’d spend the rest of their lives together. It was reckless. It was absurd. They’d spent a single night together. But it felt right. “You told me to take risks,” Emily said, her voice breaking into a nervous laugh. Ben smiled, his eyes shining with tears. “I’ve loved you for years,” he confessed. “I was just too scared of rejection to ever make my move. I… I waited for you. I just knew.” “Fate,” she repeated. All but embracing, each holding the other’s hands in their own, “Emily,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Benny. Yes.” It was the first time she’d called him Benny, and the sound of it made his heart swell. To everyone else he could be Ben, but to her he could be Benny. Baby Benny. He pulled her into his arms. The snow swirled around them as they kissed, their laughter breaking the stillness of the winter air. Ben helped her into the sleigh, and together, they delivered his baskets of goodies to the senior citizens and philosophy majors of Chestnut Grove, announcing their engagement at every stop, including her childhood home. Her mother at once became a new woman, having already been visited recently by three ghosts who convinced her to chill the fuck out. By the time the sleigh returned to Ben’s house, Emily’s heart was full, her doubts and fears melted away. For the first time in years, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be – unharnessing reindeer. Epilogue: Happily Ever After, Chestnut Grove Style Emily stood at her tiny apartment window. On her desk behind her was her resignation letter, scribbled in Sharpie on the back of one of the company’s own terrible adult diapers, thoroughly used by Benny, who was now using his strong forearms and muscled back to pack her apartment. She smirked as she thought of her boss’s reaction. She could already picture him holding the diaper at arm’s length, his face a mix of confusion and disgust. “I’m sorry, but I’m done making clinical-looking misery – and I’m not really sorry,” she muttered, practicing her one-liner for dramatic effect. Then she laughed to herself and turned back to the apartment, grabbing the diaper and stuffing it into an envelope. It was time to move on. By that afternoon, Emily was pulling up to Ben’s house in Chestnut Grove, his car loaded with what little she’d decided to keep. Jasper met them at the door and nuzzled her leg and wagged his tail like they’d known each other forever. “I think he likes you,” Ben said, laughing as Jasper plopped down at her feet. “I think so too,” Emily said, kneeling to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Smart dog.” “You’re home,” Ben said softly, and when she stood, he pulled her into a warm hug. Emily melted into his arms, the weight of her old life falling away. Chestnut Grove wasn’t just a place anymore – it was her place. Their place. The transition was easier than Emily had imagined. Living with Ben felt natural, and within weeks, she felt like she’d always belonged in his cozy house at the edge of town. Jasper followed her everywhere, always eager to play or cuddle. And as for Ben, he was the sweetest, most attentive partner she could have ever asked for. But Emily wasn’t content to simply settle into domestic bliss. She had plans – big ones. Sitting at the dining table one evening, rough-hewn from two-hundred-year-old oaks Ben grew from organic, cruelty-free acorns, she flipped through her sketchbook, showing Ben her latest designs. “They’re perfect,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “I think the world needs these.” Emily smiled. “I’m thinking... an adult diaper boutique. Small, local, but stylish. Main Street could use some color, don’t you think?” Ben nodded. “And you’d be the one to bring it.” It didn’t take long for her vision to become a reality. With Ben’s support – emotional and financial – Emily opened her boutique just three hours later. The storefront was a splash of vibrancy on Main Street, its window displays featuring colorful disposable diapers, elegant cloth diapers, and accessories like onesies and footed pajamas. Word spread quickly, and soon Emily had customers coming from all over New England. Emily turned down the chance to build a multi-trillion-dollar diaper empire, choosing instead the personal touch and small-town pace of a mom-and-pop store that did several hundred million in annual revenue while allowing her to work just one hour a day. Her only employee was her sister Chloe, who immediately fell in love with the business. Chloe’s enthusiasm was infectious, and her creative eye proved invaluable in curating the boutique’s offerings. Emily often joked that it was proof she’d been right all along – there was a market for adult diapers that were cute, playful, elegant, and even sexy. And with Ben as her model and muse, the boutique’s marketing was unbeatable. His photos adorned the website and social media, and no one in town was surprised to see him smiling in a diaper, because of course he was the world’s most supportive partner. It would’ve been out of character for him to not to model hier designs. No one suspected a thing. But behind the scenes, Ben’s little fantasies were coming true in ways he’d never dreamed possible. Emily was the perfect mommy, balancing tenderness with firm guidance. Their private life remained secret in Chestnut Grove, though not from Emily’s family. It happened one quiet afternoon in the boutique. Emily was in the back room with Ben, changing his poopy diaper while he sucked contentedly on his pacifier, his bottom red from a spanking he got for being mommy’s bestest boy. The doorbell jingled, and Emily’s mom walked in, calling out a cheerful, “Hello!” Emily’s hands didn’t falter, and Ben’s pacifier never stopped bobbing, so confident were they that her mother would embrace her future son-in-law no matter what. And they were right. Her mother smiled down at the tender scene, watching her daughter wipe Baby Benny’s tushy. Any thought he might have a medical condition was belied by his paci and his pink bumbum where mommy’s handprint still lingering. Emily’s mom sat down next to Benny and jingled her car keys, cooing, “Who’s being such a good boy holding still? Benny is!” As it turned out, Chloe had known about Ben’s lifestyle from the moment she started working at the boutique. Far from being scandalized, she embraced the ABDL world with open arms, becoming a proud and out diaper model for the boutique. She and Benny became close friends and playmates, often playing together in his nursery. And when Chloe eventually found a mommy of her own to marry, Ben was the first to congratulate her. Emily’s mom even started babysitting Benny from time to time. Her dad, ever the clueless but loving patriarch, remained cheerfully oblivious to the nuances of their lives. He was content to crack dad jokes and enjoy the happiness radiating from his family. Emily’s older sister, busy with her growing family, was simply glad to see Emily thriving. And Andrea, as sassy as ever, occasionally stepped in as Benny’s and Chloe’s babysitter, always with a witty remark at the ready. Meghan Sanderson and her two shadows fell through the ice on a frozen lake. The bodies were never recovered. Life in Chestnut Grove settled into a rhythm of joy and contentment. Emily’s boutique flourished, her family grew closer, and Ben found peace and fulfillment in being completely himself. Together, they built a life filled with love, laughter, and a sense of belonging that neither had ever thought possible. As they sat on the porch one warm summer evening, after a solid day’s work decorating Main Street for Christmas 2.0, Jasper dozing at their feet, Ben turned to Emily and took her hand. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said softly. Emily smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “You just had to be you. You ready to change those stinky pants?” “Just a little longer, please, Mommy?” “For you, anything, Baby Benny.” And in the glow of the setting sun, surrounded by the life they’d built together, they knew they had found their happily ever after. _________________________ To read more of my work, subscribe to my SubscribeStar or Ream!

This has gotta be the most button-pushy thing I've ever written if you're into diaper punishment and the idea of wearing diapers to the doctor. The whole story can be found here. ___________________________ "The Pediatrician Visit" I know Joey – 22 years old and thinking that makes him an adult just because legally he is one – doesn’t like that his mommy hired me as his nanny. Still, taking Joey for his checkup today was an experience, to put it mildly. I knew it was going to be a challenge the moment I told him where we were going. He gave me his usual grumpy pout, stomping around the house and whining about how “unfair” it was to see a pediatrician. But Joey’s behavior lately has earned him a very specific kind of doctor, and I wasn’t about to budge. If he insists on acting like a toddler, then he gets treated like one—complete with the pediatrician experience. When we arrived at the office, Joey was already sulking, his diaper crinkling audibly with every reluctant step. I had dressed him in a simple T-shirt and his diaper for the appointment, skipping the shorts to save time during the exam. It’s not like he keeps them on for long anyway. The waiting room was bright and cheerful, decorated with colorful murals of animals and cartoon characters. There were toys in one corner, a small table with crayons and coloring books in another, and a group of actual toddlers playing quietly with their parents. Joey froze when he saw it all, his face turning beet red. “Sarah,” he hissed, his voice low, “this is ridiculous. I’m not sitting here like this.” “Yes, you are,” I said firmly, guiding him to a seat. “You’re here for a checkup, just like everyone else.” He groaned and flopped into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. The receptionist smiled brightly as we approached the desk. “Hi there! Checking in?” she asked, glancing down at Joey with a knowing smile. “Yes,” I said, handing over the paperwork. “This is Joey. He’s here for his annual checkup.” Her smile widened. “Wonderful! Just have a seat, and we’ll call you when it’s time.” As I turned to sit down, I heard Joey mutter under his breath, “This is so stupid.” I paused, narrowing my eyes. “Excuse me, young man?” He looked away, pretending not to hear me. That was strike one. I ignored it for the moment, but Joey’s sulky attitude didn’t stop there. A few minutes later, he started fidgeting noisily in his chair, kicking his legs against the seat and sighing dramatically. “Joey,” I warned, keeping my tone calm but firm. “What?” he snapped, loud enough to draw the attention of a nearby mom and her toddler. “That’s strike two,” I said, my voice low. He slumped back in his chair, glaring at the floor. The final straw came when one of the toddlers toddled past us with a brightly colored rattle. Joey, for some reason, decided this was the moment to make his feelings known. “Why don’t you give him a checkup?” he grumbled, gesturing toward the little boy. “He actually belongs here.” That was it. “Joey,” I said sharply, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. “What?!” he whined, stumbling as I guided him away from the chairs and into a quieter corner of the waiting room. I sat down on a low bench and tugged him over my lap, his diaper crinkling loudly. “Sarah, no!” he hissed, squirming. “Joey, yes,” I said, landing the first firm swat on his diapered bottom. The smacks weren’t hard—just enough to make him stop fussing and pay attention. I wanted to make a point, not a scene. “You will sit quietly and behave like a good boy,” I said, punctuating each word with a swat. “If you can’t do that, we will go straight home, and you’ll be dealing with a much more serious punishment. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, Sarah,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. I gave him one last swat for good measure before pulling him to his feet. “Good. Now sit down, and don’t make me remind you again.” Joey shuffled back to his seat, his cheeks as red as his attitude. He sat quietly this time, though I could tell he was still sulking. Just as he was starting to settle down, the nurse called his name. “Joey? We’re ready for you!” I stood up and smiled down at him. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go see the doctor.” His groan was quiet, but the crinkle of his diaper as he stood up was anything but. This was going to be a very interesting appointment. "The Check-In Interrogation" Joey’s day didn’t get any easier once we were called back to the exam room. The tech who greeted us—an energetic woman named Lisa with a sunny smile—seemed delighted to see Joey and didn’t hold back on her questions. I could practically feel him wilting beside me as her clipboard filled up with increasingly embarrassing details. Lisa led us to the small, cheerful room, decorated with colorful animal posters and a mural of a giraffe measuring heights on the wall. She motioned for Joey to sit on the exam table, its crinkly paper cover matching his diaper’s sound perfectly. “Hi there, Joey,” she said brightly. “I’ll be helping with your check-in today. How are you feeling?” Joey slumped on the table, arms crossed, and mumbled, “Fine.” Lisa’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Fine, huh? Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here. Sarah, you’re his caregiver, right?” I nodded. “That’s right.” “Perfect! Let’s start with the basics.” She glanced at Joey. “How’s your diapering routine going? Do you use mostly disposables, or are there any cloth diapers in the mix?” Joey’s jaw dropped, and his face turned bright red. “W-what?!” he stammered. I rested a calming hand on his knee. “Mostly disposables,” I answered smoothly. “Cloth is an option, but disposables are more practical for his needs.” Lisa nodded, jotting it down without hesitation. “Makes sense. And how often are changes happening during the day? Would you say every two to three hours, or do you wait longer unless there’s a messy one?” Joey buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. “This is so embarrassing,” he muttered. “Usually two to three hours,” I said, ignoring his protest. “But I keep an eye on him, especially if he’s been active or if I notice any signs of discomfort.” “Great,” Lisa said, smiling warmly at Joey. “Sounds like you’re well cared for, huh?” Joey peeked through his fingers, glaring at her. Lisa didn’t stop there. “Any rashes or skin irritation recently?” she asked, her tone casual but professional. “No,” I said, patting Joey’s knee when he groaned softly. “I’m very diligent about keeping him clean and dry.” “Wonderful. And bowel movements—how often are those happening? Daily? Every other day?” Joey looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “Why does she need to know that?!” he hissed at me. “It’s part of your check-up,” I said calmly, ignoring his pout. “Go ahead, Joey. Answer the question.” He mumbled something incoherent, his face as red as a tomato. Lisa smiled patiently. “Can you repeat that for me, sweetie? I didn’t catch it.” “Daily,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Good to know,” Lisa said cheerfully, jotting it down. “And no issues with constipation or diarrhea?” “No!” Joey snapped, earning a stern look from me. “Joey,” I said firmly, “watch your tone.” He huffed but stayed quiet. Lisa moved on to the next section of her clipboard. “Now, let’s talk behavior,” she said, glancing at me. “Any challenges lately? Tantrums? Resistance to routines?” I smiled wryly. “Plenty of resistance,” I said, giving Joey a pointed look. “Especially when it comes to following directions or accepting discipline.” Lisa nodded knowingly. “That’s pretty common. And discipline—how’s that managed? Time-outs? Loss of privileges? Spankings?” Joey groaned loudly. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, his hands covering his face again. “A mix of everything,” I said, ignoring his dramatics. “Time-outs and loss of privileges work for smaller infractions, but spankings are necessary sometimes, especially for repeated misbehavior.” “Got it,” Lisa said, jotting it down. “And how does he handle those?” Joey peeked out from behind his hands, his expression mortified. “Can you not?!” Lisa chuckled softly. “I’m just doing my job, kiddo. It’s important we understand the full picture.” “He handles it as well as you’d expect,” I said with a smirk. “Lots of pouting and sulking, but it gets the point across.” Lisa smiled. “Good to know. Sounds like you’ve got things under control.” Finally, Lisa clicked her pen and stood up, her smile as bright as ever. “That’s everything for now,” she said. “The nurse will be in shortly to continue the check-up. Thanks for being such a good sport, Joey.” He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t look up. As Lisa left the room, I turned to Joey and raised an eyebrow. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He glared at me, still blushing furiously. “It was awful.” I couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll survive, sweetheart. Just wait—this was the easy part.” His groan said it all. "Joey Meets the Nurse" If Joey thought the check-in with Lisa was bad, the nurse coming in for his actual exam took things to a whole new level. By the time she finished, I could practically see steam coming out of his ears. The nurse, a cheerful woman named Kathy, came in with the same sunny disposition as Lisa. She carried a tablet and a stethoscope, her ponytail bouncing as she closed the door behind her. “Hi there, Joey!” she said brightly, setting her tablet down on the counter. “I’ll be doing your exam today. How are you feeling?” Joey crossed his arms and mumbled, “Fine.” Kathy didn’t miss a beat. “Good to hear! Now, let’s go over a few things before we get started.” I knew where this was heading, and Joey must have realized it too, because the moment Kathy started asking questions, he slouched deeper into the exam table with a dramatic sigh. “Diapering routine—are we using disposables, cloth, or a mix of both?” Kathy asked, glancing between us. Joey groaned, muttering something incoherent. “Disposables,” I said, giving him a warning look. “Great,” Kathy said, making a note. “And how often are we doing changes? Every two to three hours, or only as needed?” Joey let out a frustrated noise. “We just answered all of this!” Kathy raised an eyebrow but kept her tone calm. “I understand it might feel repetitive, Joey, but it’s important for me to double-check everything. So, changes?” “Two to three hours,” I answered smoothly, ignoring Joey’s glare. Kathy continued down the list, asking all the same questions about rashes, bowel movements, and behavior. By the time she got to discipline, Joey was squirming on the table, his face red with frustration. “Discipline methods,” Kathy said, glancing at me. “Time-outs? Loss of privileges? Spankings?” Joey slapped his hands over his face, groaning loudly. “Why does everyone have to ask about spankings?!” Kathy smiled patiently. “Because it’s important to know what works best for you,” she said simply. “Spankings are part of his routine,” I confirmed, keeping my tone calm. “Good to know,” Kathy said, typing on her tablet. “And how often would you say that happens?” “Enough to make an impression,” I said, earning a muffled groan from Joey. Finally, Kathy set down her tablet and pulled on a pair of gloves. “All right, Joey,” she said, her tone cheerful. “Let’s take a look and make sure everything’s healthy down there. Go ahead and lie back for me.” Joey hesitated, glancing at me for support. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said gently. “Just follow Nurse Kathy’s instructions.” With a heavy sigh, he leaned back on the exam table, the paper crinkling loudly beneath him. Kathy carefully untaped his diaper and opened it, her expression professional as she examined his diaper area. “Everything looks good so far,” she said, her gloved hands moving efficiently. “No redness or irritation. Whoever’s taking care of you is doing a great job.” Joey didn’t respond, staring at the ceiling with a look of pure misery. Then Kathy paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she inspected his bottom more closely. “Oh, I can tell someone got a spanking recently,” she said casually, her tone almost amused. “Were you the fussy one in the waiting room?” Joey’s head snapped up, his face blazing red. “What’s it to you?!” he snapped, glaring at her. Kathy blinked, clearly caught off guard by his outburst. I crossed my arms and gave him a warning look, but before I could say a word, Joey turned his head away, muttering angrily under his breath. The tension in the room was palpable as I prepared to address his behavior. "Discipline in the Exam Room" I had hoped Joey would settle down after the initial check-in, but his attitude only worsened. By the time he snapped at Nurse Kathy during the exam, I knew we needed to take immediate action to reset his behavior. Thankfully, Kathy agreed. After Joey’s outburst, Kathy straightened up and looked at me expectantly. “Do you usually address behavior like this on the spot?” she asked calmly. “Yes,” I said, already reaching into my purse. “I believe in handling things immediately so there’s no confusion about consequences.” Joey’s eyes widened when he saw the small wooden paddle in my hand. “Sarah, no!” he protested, trying to squirm away. “Joey,” I said firmly, placing a hand on his chest to keep him still. “You’ve earned this, and you know it.” Kathy stepped back, her expression neutral but observant as I adjusted Joey’s position. He was already lying on his back from the exam, so I simply lifted his legs and held them up, exposing his bottom in the classic diaper position. “No, please!” Joey whined, kicking slightly. “Joey,” Kathy said sharply, surprising both of us. “You need to hold still and take your punishment. Your caregiver is doing what’s best for you.” Joey whimpered but stopped struggling, his face turning red as I positioned the paddle. The first swat landed with a sharp crack, and Joey yelped immediately. “This is for your attitude,” I said, delivering another firm smack. “You do not snap at adults who are here to help you.” Joey squirmed, his diaper crinkling beneath him as the paddle connected with his bare bottom again and again. As I continued, I noticed a small, wet spot forming on the front of his diaper. I wasn’t surprised—Joey often leaked a little when he was overwhelmed—but I wasn’t sure Kathy would know what to make of it. Sure enough, she tilted her head and asked, “Does that happen often?” “Sometimes,” I said, not pausing the spanking. “It’s a natural reaction when he’s upset or overstimulated. It’s one of the reasons we keep him in diapers—he’s not always in control.” Joey whimpered louder, tears starting to spill down his cheeks. “Sarah, please!” he begged, his voice cracking. “You’re not done yet,” I said, delivering a few more sharp swats. “We’re going to keep going until I know you’ve learned your lesson.” He sniffled, his cries growing louder with each smack. By the time I finished, his bottom was bright red, and he was a sobbing mess. Kathy nodded approvingly as I lowered his legs and adjusted his diaper back into place. “You handle that very well,” she said, making a note on her tablet. “It’s clear you’re firm but caring, and that’s exactly what he needs.” “Thank you,” I said, helping Joey sit up despite his continued sniffles. “Consistency is key with him, even when it’s hard.” “I can see that,” Kathy said, giving Joey a gentle but pointed look. “I hope you’ll remember this next time you feel like acting out, young man.” Joey didn’t respond, too busy rubbing his eyes and sniffling into his hands. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready,” Kathy said, giving me a kind smile before leaving the room. As the door closed behind her, I turned to Joey, who was still hiccupping quietly. “Are you ready to behave now?” I asked, my tone softer but still firm. He nodded quickly, his tear-streaked face showing just how much he regretted testing me today. ____________________ To continue the story, sign up for my SubscribeStar here.

Shoot! You're right. Anyhoo, I'm revising it anyway to make it funnier.

Here's a story inspired by those terrible cable TV Christmas movies 🤣 Here's the first half. If you're good for Santa (who is me in this context, apparently 🤣) the rest will come after Christmas, but you can get the whole thing now on my Ream or Subscribe Star. ___________________ Chapter 1: Christmas Spirit... in Absence The first snow of December drifted down onto the streets of Really Big City, glistening faintly in the early morning light as cars hissed by and people shuffled to their destinations, all embittered and mean to tourists as is traditional in Christmas stories like this one. But from her tiny office window, Emily Baxter, despite converting to a Really Big City girl three years ago, still watched the snowflakes with a kind of wistful detachment. She traced one finger absently along her desk, her other hand wrapped tightly around a coffee cup that had gone cold two hours ago. It was shaping up to be another day where time blurred between the latest uninspired project and the next. Emily, a 25-year-old graphic designer – though she didn’t feel particularly graphic or inspired these days – turned her attention back to her work. On her computer screen glared a blank canvas meant to house the newest promotional ad for her company’s line of adult diapers. She sighed, massaging her temples. At the tender age of 22, Emily had jumped feet first into this niche market. She’d dazzled her interview panel with an enthusiastic presentation about how good diaper design could transform the dignity and comfort of an underserved population. But three years later, her lofty goals were a distant memory. The company insisted on the same unimaginative template for every product, and no one cared about innovation. The diapers were white. Always white. A pale, clinical, lifeless white with a blue wetness indicator strip that Emily found soul-crushing. Functional? Barely. Stylish? Not even close. But her Really Big City bosses on the top floor didn’t care. Their only concern was cranking out product after product that looked exactly the same as last year’s model. “Consistency is comfort!” their VP of Marketing had declared during one particularly frustrating meeting. Emily rubbed her temples again and muttered under her breath, “Consistency is boring.” “Talking to yourself again, Baxter?” came a teasing voice from the cubicle behind her. Her coworker, Lindsay, leaned around the divider, a smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s a bad sign, even for you.” Emily groaned. “I’m trying to summon the willpower to make the WetGuard Supreme line look festive.” Lindsay chuckled, sipping her coffee. “Good luck. Nothing says ‘Merry Christmas’ like incontinence.” “Tell me about it,” Emily deadpanned. Her phone buzzed, interrupting their banter. Emily glanced at the screen and groaned. Her mother. Again. She hesitated, debating whether to answer. But her mom was nothing if not persistent; if she didn’t pick up now, there would be another call in fifteen minutes. Bracing herself, she pressed the answer button. “Hi, Mom.” “Emily!” her mother’s cheerful voice rang out, followed by a familiar tinge of guilt-laden affection. “I was wondering when you’d finally call me back.” “You called me, Mom.” “Because I didn’t know when you were going to call me back. Do you know how long it’s been since we talked?” Emily closed her eyes. “Mom, we talked an hour ago.” “Yes, but that was before we started decorating for Christmas. It’s so beautiful here, Emily. You wouldn’t believe it despite having spent the first 22 years of your life here and substantial portions of the last three! You should see Main Street – it looks like a Christmas card.” Emily had no doubt. Her hometown, Chestnut Grove, Vermontticut was practically the blueprint for every quaint holiday village that ever graced the cover of a seasonal magazine. She could almost picture it now: garlands hung over storefronts, twinkling lights strung across the lampposts, and shop windows filled with wreaths and holly. “That sounds nice, Mom,” she said neutrally, sensing where the conversation was headed. “It is! And you’ll get to see it when you come home.” There it was. “Mom, I haven’t decided yet – ” Her mother cut her off with a knowing hum. “Emily, it’s Christmas! You always come home for Christmas except for those years you don’t which is never.” “I know, but things are really busy at work right now,” Emily said, glancing ruefully at her screen. “Busy?” her mom scoffed. “It’s Christmas, Emily. What could possibly be more important than spending time with your family? Honestly, I don’t understand why you ever left. You had everything you needed right here.” Here it comes, Emily thought. The guilt train was pulling into the station. “I moved because I needed a career, Mom,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “And as much as I love Chestnut Grove, there aren’t exactly a lot of opportunities for a graphic designer back home.” “I suppose.” Her mother’s tone was dripping with skepticism for, despite being an adult alive in the 21st century, she was certain any job one wanted could be found in Chestnut Grove. “Although if you ask me, working yourself to death designing – what is it again? Diapers? – doesn’t sound like much of a career.” “Adult incontinence products,” Emily corrected automatically. “Right.” Her mom’s disapproval was palpable even through the phone. “All I’m saying is that you haven’t been on a date in over a year, and you never seem happy when I call you in Really Big City, hint-hint. Maybe it’s time to rethink some of your life choices.” Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mom, I really don’t think my dating life – ” “Do you remember Ben? Ben Wright? Such a nice boy. Still single, too, if you can believe it. I told him you’d be home for Christmas.” “Mom!” “What? He always had the biggest crush on you in high school, from which you graduated more than a decade ago but is still very relevant. And he’s very handsome now. You should see him …” “I really have to go,” Emily interrupted, her voice strained. “I’ll think about coming home, okay?” Her mother sighed dramatically as thought someone had wished her happy holidays. “Fine. But don’t wait too long to decide. It’s not Christmas without you.” Emily hung up and let her head fall against her desk with a thud. Ben Wright. She hadn’t thought about him in years. He’d been sweet in high school, sure, but she wasn’t about to let her mother play matchmaker. Still, as much as her mom’s meddling grated on her nerves, Emily couldn’t ignore the pang of guilt twisting in her stomach. Her mother was right – Emily hadn’t been home for Christmas even once since the previous December. No sooner had the first Monday in January arrived than she’d swapped family traditions for late nights in the office and quiet, lonely dinners in her studio apartment. The next morning, Emily dragged herself into the office, coffee in hand, and sank into her chair. Her email inbox was already full of demands from her boss, but her heart wasn’t in it. She stared at the holiday diaper campaign she’d been working on for weeks and felt nothing. No spark, no excitement, just the dull ache of exhaustion. Maybe her mom had a point. Maybe it was time for a change – if only for a week. By lunchtime, she’d made her decision. She booked a train ticket to Chestnut Grove, packed her bags that night, and sent a text to her mom: Coming home for Christmas. See you soon. The reply came almost instantly: I knew you couldn’t resist! Ben will be thrilled. Emily rolled her eyes. If nothing else, it was shaping up to be an interesting holiday. Chapter 2: Welcome Back to the Chaos The train pulled into the tiny Chestnut Grove station just as the afternoon sun began to dip behind the snow-draped hills. The conductor, an elderly man with a striking resemblance to a beloved actor from fifty years ago and half-sized reading glasses perched just so on the end of his nose, winked in a non-creepy way, having recognized her as the protagonist and therefore in need of extra Christmas cheer. Emily stepped onto the platform, dragging her suitcase behind her, and braced herself for the onslaught she knew was waiting as behind her Christmas steam billowed inexplicably from the electric train. Sure enough, her family’s familiar laughter and chatter echoed even before she saw them. “Emily! Over here!” Her mom’s voice rang out, rising above the din of other travelers greeting their loved ones. Emily barely had time to process before she was engulfed in a whirlwind of hugs, voices, and the scent of peppermint and evergreen. Her mom, dressed in her signature festive red coat and scarf, crushed Emily into a hug. Behind her came Dad, beaming as he attempted to join the hug and grab Emily’s suitcase at the same time. “Welcome home, kiddo!” he exclaimed, his cheeks pink from the cold. Emily tried to respond, but then her older sister, Lisa, appeared, flanked by her four children. The two youngest were bundled into matching reindeer hats, while the older two alternated between fighting over a candy cane and throwing snowballs. Lisa’s husband, Greg, trailed behind, holding a diaper bag the size of a carry-on suitcase and looking mildly overwhelmed and generically handsome yet untalented. “You made it!” Lisa said, squeezing Emily with one arm while holding her baby in the other. “The kids were so excited to see Auntie Emmy!” Emily winced. She loved her nieces and nephews, truly, but ever since the move to Really Big City had destroyed her sense of herself as someone with a treasured past and replaced it with a new identity as Really Big City Corporate Business Professional, hearing her childhood nickname announced like that always made her feel ten years old again. “Hi, munchkins,” Emily managed, patting the oldest on the head and dodging a stray snowball from the second oldest. “Wow, you guys are growing fast.” “And loud,” Lisa added with a tired laugh, hoisting the baby higher on her hip as if to remind all in sight that motherhood is the most joyous of burdens and we must all never fucking forget it (and also so she wouldn’t drop the squirmy bundle of outerwear on the train tracks). Before Emily could respond, another wave of family descended: her grandparents, who looked thrilled just to be standing upright in the cold; two aunts and an uncle; and a smattering of cousins she hadn’t seen in years. Each one greeted her with enthusiasm, peppering her with questions about life in Really Big City. “How’s the city treating you?” “Still working with... uh, diapers?” “Any special someone in your life?” “Do you always look so weary and well-dressed at the same time, and if so, how?” Emily’s mom chimed in. “Life in Really Big City will do that to you. Of course she’s not dating, but who brought that up? I did,” she said, half-teasing, half-guilting. “But you never know – there’s always Ben!” “Mom, please.” Emily forced a smile, dodging the not-so-subtle reference to her high school crush. Finally, the swarm began to thin. Emily seized the opportunity to grab her suitcase and make a break for the house via her mom and dad’s car, which they were also inside of. Inside, the Baxter home smelled exactly as she remembered: a mixture of pine from the towering Christmas tree in the living room, cinnamon from the scented candles her mom insisted on lighting every December, and the faint hint of cookies cooling on the kitchen counter. For a moment, it was almost enough to make Emily forget the chaos of Really Big City and her career as a career woman. She carried her suitcase up the creaky wooden stairs to her childhood bedroom. It looked the same as it always had, with pale yellow walls, a bookshelf stuffed with well-worn novels, and a twin bed draped in a quilt her grandma had made when Emily was ten. She set her suitcase down, took a deep breath, and sat on the edge of the bed. Her gaze drifted to the shelf by the window, where a framed picture of her and her sisters sat. They were maybe eight, six, and three, dressed in matching Christmas pajamas. Emily could almost hear their squeals of excitement on Christmas morning. For a moment, a pang of nostalgia threatened to soften her Really Big City exterior, but she choked it down like grinch bile. The moment of quiet didn’t last. “Emmy!” A cheerful voice burst into the room, dragging Emily back to the present. Her younger sister, Chloe, waltzed in with all the energy of a human snowstorm. “You’re here! And you’re still wearing all black. Shocking.” “Chloe,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘Emmy’? It’s not cute anymore.” “It’s adorable,” Chloe countered, flopping dramatically onto the bed beside her. “Emmy, Emmy, Emmy. You’ll always be Emmy to me.” “I hate it.” “You secretly love it.” Chloe poked her in the side. “Anyway, welcome home. How’s life designing the most glamorous diapers money can buy?” Emily groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “It’s terrible. Do you know how soul-sucking it is to spend all day designing something no one cares about? I had all these ideas when I started – colors, patterns, designs that could actually make people feel good about themselves – but no one at the company wants to hear it. They just want boring, white, nursing-home-looking diapers just because that’s by far their largest market without which the company would collapse and its employees would be suffer the devastating financial, emotional and social consequences of unemployment. Totally unreasonable corporate goons.” “Well, that’s depressing,” Chloe said, tilting her head sympathetically. “But maybe this trip is what you need. Christmas, snow, family. And me, obviously.” Emily glanced at her younger sister, who had always been a ball of sunshine wrapped in flannel and glitter. Chloe was the opposite of everything Emily felt like lately – bright, optimistic, and annoyingly unflappable. “I don’t know, Chloe. I’ve kind of forgotten how to relax.” “Well, lucky for you, I’m here to remind you.” Chloe sprang off the bed with the energy of someone who had never worked a corporate job. She was majoring in philosophy, rendering her perpetually lighthearted somehow. “Speaking of which, we’re going out tonight.” Emily frowned. “What?” “Out. Like, outside. To The Copper Mug. You remember the place, right? They redid it – there’s craft beer now. Do they have that in Really Big City? And string lights; no Edison bulbs yet, but maybe when the Wells Fargo wagon comes through next. And karaoke on Fridays. You gotta come – it’s Boomerang Night.” “Boomerang Night?” “You know, the 23rd? The day when all the young people who fled Chestnut Grove come home for Christmas and get drunk together. You’ve been to it every year for the past seven years; must be the Really Big City smog getting to you. Anyway, you have to come. It’s a tradition. Be traditional with me.” Emily crossed her arms. “I think I’ll pass.” “Nope.” Chloe grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve been back in town for less than an hour after a six-hour train ride, and you’re already sat down on your bed which I’m characterizing as hiding in your room. We’re not doing this. You’re coming with me, and you’re going to have fun.” “Chloe, I don’t even know anyone anymore. I haven’t seen most of those people since Thanksgiving Boomerang Night last month,” Emily protested as her sister rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a slightly less black sweater. “You know me, and that’s enough. Besides,” Chloe added with a mischievous grin, “you might run into someone interesting.” Emily groaned, thinking of her mom’s earlier comment about Ben Wright. “If this is about Ben … ” “This isn’t about Ben. But it might be and definitely is because subtlety isn’t part of this genre’s literary tradition and telegraphing the plot is. You’ll never know if you don’t come!” Before Emily could argue further, Chloe thrust the sweater into her hands and shoved her toward the closet mirror. “C’mon, Emmy. You survived Really Big City. You can survive one night at The Copper Mug.” Emily hesitated, then sighed. There was no arguing with Chloe when she got like this. “Fine. But I’m not staying long.” “Deal,” Chloe said, grabbing her coat and flinging it over her shoulder. “This’ll be fun. C’mon.” Emily rolled her eyes as Chloe practically dragged her down the stairs. “I’m regretting this already.” Chloe laughed. “You’ll thank me later.” Chapter 3: The Boomerang Effect The Copper Mug was everything Emily remembered and dreaded: hot, loud, and overcrowded with people who all seemed a little too eager to shout over each other. The newly installed string lights hanging from the ceiling and the exposed brick walls gave it a trendy aesthetic that clashed with the place’s trope as a no-frills dive bar. Emily instinctively stuck close to Chloe, who weaved through the packed space with ease, stopping every few feet to greet someone she knew. “This place is a sauna,” Emily muttered, shrugging out of her coat as they reached the bar where it somehow didn’t end up on the floor even after Emily walked away from it because small-town folk are respectful of people’s property in a way Really Big City people can’t understand. “Welcome to Boomerang Night,” Chloe said cheerfully, ordering two locally mass-produced light beers to convey that they were fun but yet Christmassy wholesome. Chloe was saving wine until for marriage, like the women in sitcoms. “What did you expect? Everyone who ever left Chestnut Grove is here tonight.” “And half the people who stayed,” Emily grumbled. As they waited for their drinks, Emily glanced around. The crowd was full of familiar faces: old classmates, people from her church youth group, kids she used to babysit, and the occasional vaguely recognizable stranger she couldn’t quite place. Most of them waved or smiled in polite acknowledgment. Neutral faces. Safe faces. Chloe handed Emily her beer and nudged her shoulder. “Loosen up, Emmy. This is supposed to be fun.” Before Emily could respond, a voice behind her cut through the din. “Emily Baxter, is that you?” She turned to see Meghan Sanderson, flanked by her two closest high school allies, Brittany and Kara. The trio hadn’t changed much since their glory days as the self-proclaimed queens of Chestnut Grove High. Meghan still wore that smug, practiced smile that always seemed to suggest she knew something you didn’t. “Wow,” Meghan said, eyeing Emily up and down. “It’s been forever since I saw you. You’re looking as beautiful as you always have in a cable TV Netflix kinda way. You know the way, the one where we all ignore how stunning you are because it’s not quite supermodel movie star stunning. I’m still a mean girl who does and says mean things, by the way. What are you up to these days?” Emily swallowed, trying to summon the confidence she’d worked so hard to build so she could make it in Really Big City. “I’m living in Really Big City,” she said as it was all her identity was anymore. She didn’t force a smile as easily as Meghan. “I’m a graphic designer.” Meghan tilted her head, her blonde curls bouncing. “Graphic design? That’s so... creative. What kind of stuff do you design?” “Uh…” Emily hesitated, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “I work for a company that specializes in adult incontinence products.” Kara blinked. “You design... diapers?” Emily fought the urge to shrink under their gaze. “Yes. Specifically the packaging and branding, but I also work on concepts for the product design.” “Wow,” Meghan said, her tone oozing false sweetness. “That’s... so niche. I guess someone has to do it and that someone is you.” “I mean,” Brittany added with a condescending laugh, “it’s not like the STEM or business side, right? Ya know, like real career women? You’re just making them look something or whatever?” Emily’s throat tightened as she tried to muster a reply. Words formed in her mind but fizzled out before she could say them. She felt sixteen again, awkward and unsteady, floundering under their scrutiny. Before she could spiral further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Wow, Meghan, it’s amazing how little you’ve changed since high school.” Emily turned to see her best friend from high school, Andrea Reid, striding toward them with the same effortless confidence she’d always had. Andrea looked exactly as Emily remembered from Thanksgiving and the many video calls since. Her dark curls were pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her smile was sharp enough to slice through Meghan’s façade. “Andrea,” Meghan said, her smile faltering. “Hi. I didn’t see you there.” “Obviously,” Andrea said, crossing her arms. “You were too busy being petty. Some things never change, huh?” Kara opened her mouth to respond, but Andrea didn’t give her the chance. “Anyway, it’s been great catching up, but I think Emmy and I have better things to do than relive high school drama that’s not central to this plot.” Andrea didn’t wait for a reply. She hooked her arm through Emily’s and steered her away, leaving Meghan and her cronies standing in awkward silence. When they reached a quieter corner of the bar, Andrea released Emily’s arm and grinned. “You’re welcome.” Emily let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh my God, thank you. I was about two seconds away from imploding.” Andrea laughed, sliding into a booth and gesturing for Emily to join her. “You looked like you could use a rescue. Some things never change, huh?” “No kidding,” Emily said, sinking into the seat. “I think Meghan’s been practicing that same fake smile since senior year.” Andrea smirked. “Probably. So, how’ve you been? It’s been, what, a period of time since we last saw each other in person?” “Almost,” Emily said, taking a sip of her beer. “I’m... surviving. Working in Really Big City, doing the whole corporate grind.” “And designing diapers,” Andrea teased, her tone light and free of judgment. Emily groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t remind me. It’s so much less impressive when you say it out loud.” “Oh, stop,” Andrea said, nudging her playfully. “You’re in the city, doing your thing. That’s more than most people can say.” “What about you?” Emily asked, eager to shift the spotlight to her best friend since her earliest memories of childhood. How, she wondered, would she connect to this person she’d known all her life but who had never left Chestnut Grove for Really Big City. Would their allegedly shared humanity be enough? “What are you up to these days,” she asked because the existence of social media in this Hullmerk Christmas Universe would make tropes hard. Andrea’s face lit up. “I run the Chestnut Inn now. My parents retired a few years ago and handed it over to me.” “Wait,” Emily said, leaning forward. “You’re running the B&B in a town that’s mostly B&Bs? That’s amazing.” “It’s a lot of work, but I love it,” Andrea said. “Keeps me busy. And I’ve got a great team helping out, so it’s not all on me. I’ve modeled my life on Lorelai Gilmore from The Gilmore Girls, but that’s fine because they modeled Stars Hollow on Chestnut Grove.” “And?” Emily prompted, noticing the sparkle in Andrea’s eyes. “What else? I can tell there’s more.” Andrea grinned. “Well, I’m married now. My wife, Mariana, is an elementary school teacher. We adopted two kids a couple of years ago – Piyush and Wong. They’re five and three.” “That’s incredible,” Emily said, genuinely impressed. “You’ve got this whole beautiful, gay, multiethnic family life here that’s so ostentatiously different from the families represented in past generations’ made-for-TV movies.” Andrea shrugged, but her smile was proud. “It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it. What about you? Any big life changes?” Emily snorted. “Unless you count being married to my job, then no. Dating hasn’t exactly been a priority.” Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Still haven’t found anyone who gets you, huh?” “I guess not,” Emily said, swirling her beer. “I haven’t actually dated because I’m too busy being a career woman, so basically I’ve made no effort and none of the men who haven’t fallen out of the sky really fit. They either want someone who’s all about them, or they think I’m weird for being so into my work. I mean, I assume.” Andrea tilted her head. “Weird? Emmy, you’re passionate. That’s a good thing.” “Maybe,” Emily said, leaning back. “But I think my passion is wearing thin. I still care about designing products that help people, but the corporate grind is really grinding. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can keep doing this. I’m not 24 anymore; I had a birthday last week.” Andrea reached across the table and squeezed Emily’s hand. “You’ll figure it out. You always do, I’m assuming because we haven’t spoken in a period of time and I’m not sure if you’re the same person I knew before. Really Big City changes people in monsters is a thing I believe in my soul.” Emily smiled weakly. “Thanks. I appreciate you not being angry at me even though, at least in an obviously superficial way that doesn’t mask my inner goodness, I’m a terrible Really Big City career woman now.” For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, Emily sipping her beer and Andrea her cocktail. “What are you drinking,” Emily asked. “It’s a called a substitute for character development. It’s how you know I’m fun and on your side.” Then Andrea’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “So,” she said casually, “have you run into Ben yet? I mean, I don’t really know you anymore, but I’m so invading your privacy right now.” Emily groaned. “Why is everyone so obsessed with Ben? We barely talked in high school because of the asexual tension we felt whenever we came near each other … I’m having a flashback to when I almost looked at him and he almost looked at me and we both looked away, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his head.” Andrea smirked. “Uh-huh. And yet, you’re blushing.” “I am not,” Emily said, though her cheeks betrayed her. Andrea laughed, but before she could press further, Emily’s eyes widened. Across the room, through the shifting crowd, she spotted him. Ben Wright, standing by the bar, laughing with a group of friends. He looked... good. Better than good, actually. His head was great. His hair was still tousled in that effortlessly charming way, and his flannel shirt hinted at a physique that had only improved since high school despite the ravishes of aging deep into his mid-20s. Andrea followed Emily’s gaze and grinned. “Well, well, well. Look who’s still got a crush.” Emily quickly looked away, flustered. “I do not.” “Uh-huh,” Andrea said, clearly unconvinced. “You should go say hi.” “No way,” Emily said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.” “Start with ‘hi,’” Andrea said dryly. “Come on, Emmy. You’re a Really Big City career woman now. Just pretend you’re back in the city doing your thing and walking past knife criminals urinating on the walls of tenements and investment banks. You can handle this.” Emily hesitated, glancing back at Ben. He was talking to someone else now, smiling that same easy smile she remembered from high school. Her heart did a little flip. Andrea nudged her. “Go.” But Emily stayed rooted in her seat, too shy to move. Chapter 4: A Very Awkward Christmas Setup Emily was swirling the remnants of her beer, still reeling from the whirlwind that was Andrea, when Chloe materialized at the booth like she’d been out of frame the whole time. “Hey, hey!” Chloe announced as she slid in beside Emily, nearly toppling her drink because respecting personal space isn’t subtle and neither is Christmas cheer. “What are we talking about?” Emily froze. “Nothing.” “Ben,” Andrea cut in smoothly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. Emily’s eyes widened. “No, we’re not.” Chloe gasped, clapping her hands together. “Ben Wright? The very one we’ve all been talking about? Emmy! Are you finally making a move on him? It’s about time.” “Chloe, no,” Emily hissed, her voice low and desperate. “We weren’t even.” Chloe ignored her, her grin growing wider with the delight of ignoring clearly expressed boundaries in the societally accepted way called Christmas matchmaking. “Say no more. I’ll handle this.” “Chloe!” Emily’s voice rose, but her sister was already up and weaving through the crowded bar like a heat-seeking missile locked onto her target. Emily buried her face in her hands, groaning. “How can this be happening? It’s not like I came here fully aware that, as advertised, everyone I’ve ever known would be here, including the man my mom and the sister who dragged me here have been pushing for the past 96 hours.” Andrea laughed, sipping her drink as she leaned back in the booth. “Relax, Emmy. Chloe’s just speeding up the inevitable.” “What inevitable?” Emily snapped, glaring at Andrea. “There’s no inevitable.” “Sure,” Andrea said, her grin never wavering. “And Christmas exists in Really Big City.” Before Emily could respond, Chloe returned, dragging a slightly bewildered-looking Ben Wright behind her. He looked taller and broader than Emily remembered, like someone who would help a person move and not complain about it even in private, and the sight of him sent a jolt of nervous energy through her chest. His familiar messy hair and easygoing demeanor somehow seemed more polished now, like he’d grown into himself in the years since high school in the way humans do. “Look who I found!” Chloe announced, shoving Ben toward the booth. “Ben, you remember Emmy, right?” Ben smiled, a little shyly, and gave Emily a nod. “Hey, Emily.” Emily forced a smile, cursing her sister silently. “Hi, Ben.” Ben slid into the booth across from her, sitting next to Andrea. He glanced at Chloe, then back at Emily, clearly sensing the setup but too polite to comment. Chloe, whose not giving a damn about her sister’s expressly stated desires was somehow really sweet and endearing, plopped down beside Emily, trapping her in place. “So, Ben,” Andrea began, her tone bright and conversational, “what’ve you been up to since Emily last saw you?” Ben shrugged modestly. “A lot’s happened, I guess. After law school, I came back to Chestnut Grove. Practiced law for about a year, but it wasn’t for me.” “What do you mean?” Chloe asked. “I realized I didn’t want to spend my life in courtrooms or dealing with contracts,” Ben explained. “I wanted to do something I actually cared about. So, I started building furniture.” Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Furniture?” “Yeah, custom pieces,” Ben said, warming up as he spoke. “Old-world style – hand-carved, high-end stuff. I sell to high-end dealers, collectors, and a few local clients.” “That’s so cool,” Chloe said, genuinely impressed. “And you farm, too, right?” Ben nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a small organic farm outside town. It helps pay the bills.” Andrea smirked. “And you run the no-kill animal shelter?” Ben chuckled, scratching the back of his neck to signal embarrassed humility and wondering how they knew all this but not the answer to the first question they asked. “Yeah, I run the shelter along with a staff of former substance abusers I’ve rehabilitated. It’s mostly cats and dogs, but we’ve taken in a few goats and even a llama once.” “And the nonprofit?” Chloe prompted. Ben sighed, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “It’s nothing big. I just use my legal background to act as an advocate for children in adoption cases and in guardianship matters for kids in the system.” “Don’t forget the yoga,” Andrea chimed in. “He’s so bashful.” “It’s just baby goat yoga session for traumatized youth on Saturdays, and on Sundays I do sessions at the senior center. The goats really take the memory care residents back in time,” Ben replied as if it were no big deal. Emily blinked, overwhelmed. She had expected Ben Wright, small-town golden boy, to have a good story, but this was... next level. A furniture maker? An organic farmer? Substance abuse warrior? An advocate for orphans? A yogi? “That’s amazing,” Emily said, and she meant it. Ben shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with praise like all American men. “It keeps me busy.” Andrea grinned suddenly, sliding out of the booth. “Well, as fascinating as this is, Chloe and I have to go.” Emily stared at her, panic rising. “What? No, you don’t …” “Oh, we do. You know what they about third and fourth wheel – cock blocks” Andrea said, winking at Ben. “Come on, Chloe.” Chloe gave Emily a teasing grin as she stood. “Have fun, Emmy.” And just like that, they were gone, leaving Emily and Ben sitting across from each other in awkward silence. After a moment, Emily sighed. “We’ve been set up.” Ben chuckled, his shy smile returning. “Yeah, I kind of figured.” “It’s okay if you want to leave,” Emily said quickly. “I won’t be offended. You probably want nothing to do with a Really Big City career women with complicated feelings about family and small town value, whatever those are.” Ben hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t mind staying... if you don’t.” Emily felt her cheeks warm. “I guess it’d be rude … to someone, I guess … to leave now.” “Guess so,” Ben said, his smile softening. They sat in silence for another moment, the noise of the bar filling the space. Finally, Ben leaned forward. “Do you want to go for a walk? It’s kind of hard to talk in here.” Emily hesitated but then nodded. “Fresh air sounds good.” Ben stood and grabbed her coat from the back of the booth where it had traveled on its own from the bar where she’d left it. He held it open for her, his movements careful and deliberate. “Here.” Emily blinked, surprised. “Thanks.” They stepped out into the cold night, the crisp air biting at their cheeks. Main Street was a picture-perfect Christmas scene: garlands draped from lampposts, strings of twinkling lights crossing the street, and mom-and-pop shop windows glowing with holiday cheer. Carolers in Victorian costumes strolled by, singing “Good King Wenceslaus,” their voices blending with the faint laughter from the outdoor skating rink in the distance. “This is... a lot,” Emily said, tucking her hands into her pockets as they started walking. Ben chuckled. “Chestnut Grove takes Christmas seriously.” Emily glanced around, feeling a wave of nostalgia. “I’d forgotten how magical it could be. We’ve forgotten things can be magical in Really Big City, if we ever knew it. I can’t believe I’m emoting this much.” They strolled past the skating rink, where kids spun and giggled on the ice, their cheeks flushed from the cold. Nearby, the Christmas market bustled with shoppers sipping hot cocoa and browsing handmade ornaments. Ben pointed to the antique shop on the corner, where a familiar figure stood in a Santa suit, handing out small, wrapped gifts to a line of children. “See that guy?” Emily squinted. “Mr. Thompson? The antique store owner?” “Yep. He’s been my biggest client since I started the furniture business. Don’t let the Santa suit fool you – he’s still as grumpy as ever.” “When did the bank burn down,” Emily asked as they passed the still-smoldering husk. “Tuesday. Some say it’s haunted by the ghost of that miser, Mr. Potter. Other say that apparition is literally his burnt corpse and that the authorities are too afraid of mob justice to let his widow claim it. But the Savings and Loan is booming like never before.” Emily laughed, the sound warming her more than the cold air chilled her. “Some things never change.” As they walked, their conversation meandered. Ben talked more about his furniture business, his farm, and his work at the shelter. Emily found herself relaxing, drawn in by his quiet passion and the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about things he cared about. Emily had grown unaccustomed to earnestness. “So,” Ben said after a pause, “your sister said you’re a designer?” “Graphic designer,” Emily said. “I work for a company that makes adult incontinence products.” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Adult diapers?” “Yeah,” Emily said, bracing for judgment. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s important work.” To her surprise, Ben’s face lit up. “That’s actually really cool.” Emily blinked. “It is?” “Yeah,” Ben said, his enthusiasm genuine. “You’re designing something that helps people, right? That’s amazing. Which company? Are they plastic-backed or cloth-like,” he asked before stopping himself. Emily felt a rare flicker of validation, but before she could respond, Ben’s expression shifted, and he quickly changed the subject. “Uh, anyway, how’s the city?” Emily frowned, disappointed by the sudden shift. “It’s fine. Busy. I’m alienated from it, but I’m alienated from everything so … You know how it is.” Ben nodded, looking away. “Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t know how it was. How could he? Alienation isn’t a small town value, and it’s certainly not a Christmas value. They walked in silence for a moment, the mood slightly heavier. Finally, Ben glanced at her, his expression hesitant. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure,” Emily said. “Why do you think we never got together in high school?” Emily froze, stopping mid-step. “What?” Ben gave a shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, we hung out a lot. Not with each other but in proximity to each other. I always kind of wondered... you know, why nothing ever happened.” Emily’s heart raced. “I don’t know. Timing, maybe? Different circles?” “Yeah,” Ben said, looking thoughtful. “Maybe.” They resumed walking, the question hanging in the air. Emily’s mind raced, but before she could think of a response, Ben spoke again. “Are you busy tomorrow evening?” Emily blinked. “Why?” “There’s a Christmas Eve-Eve thing at the rink,” Ben said. “Not a date, but... you know.” Emily smiled. “Not a date. Sure.” “Great,” Ben said, his grin boyish and warm. As they parted ways, Emily’s heart felt lighter than it had in years. But that may have been fumes from the bank. Chapter 5: Small-Town Gossip and Big Expectations The morning sun reflected off the snow-blanketed streets of Chestnut Grove, lending a postcard-like glow to the little town that could be anywhere – Connecticut, Vermont, alpine areas not including those in California … Connecticut. Emily walked along Main Street with her mom, sisters, and Andrea, trying not to let the growing knot of stress in her chest overwhelm her. As picturesque as the day was, the outing had already begun to wear thin. “You’ve seemed so tense since you got here, Emmy,” her mom said for the third time, glancing at her with the concerned expression she wore like a badge of honor. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not bearing the weight of an entire town’s expectations again, are you?” “I’m fine,” Emily said, a little too sharply. She immediately softened her tone. “Really, Mom, I’m just... tired.” “You always work too hard,” her mom said, sighing as though she had been carrying Emily’s burdens herself. “You should take a break once in a while. Relax. I can tell you’re all wound up. It must be pretty bad if my motherly needling isn’t helping.” “I’m fine,” Emily repeated, though her tight shoulders and shallow breaths told a different story. “She’s fine, Mom,” Chloe interjected brightly, stepping between them with a cheery grin. “Let’s not poke the bear. She’s here. She’s shopping. It’s a Christmas miracle. In fact, I’m going to record it in my Hullmerk Christmas Miracle Journal app.” Their mom gave Chloe a reproachful look, but Chloe just linked arms with Emily and steered her toward a display of hand-knit scarves. “See? Soft, cozy, festive. Pick one. You’ll feel better.” Nearby, Lisa juggled her newborn in one arm while trying to keep her two-year-old from destroying a stack of ornaments. “Can someone grab a pacifier from my bag? The good one, not the backup one.” Andrea, ever prepared, swooped in with the efficiency of a mom who had seen it all. “Here you go,” she said, handing Lisa a paci. Lisa sighed. “How are you always this on top of things?” “I run a B&B and have two kids,” Andrea said with a shrug. “I’m basically a walking survival kit.” Emily smiled despite herself but then stiffened as a familiar voice called out from behind the counter. “Emily! Is that you?” Turning, Emily saw Mrs. Redding, the kindly shopkeeper who had known the Baxter family since Emily was in diapers. Mrs. Redding smiled warmly as she stepped out from behind the register, her apron dusted with grandmotherly good intentions. “Hi, Mrs. Redding,” Emily said, smiling back. “It’s good to see you.” “Oh, it’s wonderful to see you, dear,” Mrs. Redding said, her eyes twinkling. “And I hear you have a date tonight.” Emily’s smile froze. “I – what?” “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Redding said, nodding. “I heard you and Ben Wright are finally going out. Everyone’s thrilled, of course.” Emily blinked. “How... how do you know about that?” “Small towns, dear,” Mrs. Redding said with a chuckle, patting Emily’s arm. “Word gets around. Now, you two have a wonderful time.” As Mrs. Redding moved to assist another customer, Emily turned to her mom, Chloe, and Andrea, her face a mix of confusion and frustration. “Did one of you say something?” Chloe held up her hands. “Not me!” Andrea shook her head. “I didn’t tell anyone.” “It wasn’t me either,” her mom said, looking genuinely surprised. “But isn’t it sweet that people are excited for you and Ben? He’s such a catch.” “It’s not a date,” Emily said through clenched teeth. “And I have no idea how people even know about it.” Andrea shrugged. “Someone at the bar must’ve seen you two last night. People talk.” “Clearly,” Emily muttered as they moved on to the next shop. As they stepped out of Mrs. Redding’s shop and into the bustling holiday street, Emily’s mom latched onto her arm with an enthusiasm that was heartwarming and exhausting. “I still can’t believe it,” her mom gushed. “You and Ben! It’s like a Christmas miracle.” “App!” Chloe spouted in the background. “Mom,” Emily said, exasperated, “it’s not a date.” Her mom waved this off as if brushing away an annoying storebought Christmas cookies (‘shit; pure commercialized shit’ she always called them). “Oh, Emmy, don’t be so modest. It’s clear there’s something there. He’s such a wonderful man.” Emily sighed. “He’s just a nice guy, Mom. That’s it.” “Nice?” her mom repeated incredulously. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it! Did you know he rebuilt the old playground on Maple Street? Completely out of his own pocket! He even carved the benches himself.” Chloe smirked, walking ahead of them. “Mom, if you love him so much, why don’t you date him?” “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” her mom said, swatting Chloe’s arm before turning back to Emily. “And the animal shelter! Did you know he took in a litter of kittens last month and stayed up all night feeding them with a bottle? A man who loves animals like that will make a wonderful father.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Mom, please.” “And the food pantry!” her mom continued, undeterred. “Do you know how much he donates every year? Not just money – he brings fresh vegetables from his farm. Fresh! Who does that? And don’t even get me started on his nonprofit work. He single-handedly saved the Willard mansion from being torn down and got it turned into a museum, and he got the town council to use the ticket sale proceeds to save the local library. A man like that doesn’t come along every day.” Emily groaned. “I get it, Mom. Ben is practically a saint. Can we please talk about something else?” Her mom patted her arm sympathetically. “I know it can be overwhelming, sweetheart, but it’s okay to let yourself be happy. You deserve someone like Ben.” Emily glanced at Chloe for support, but her sister just gave her a mischievous grin. “Your fan club’s right, Emmy. You could do worse.” “Not helping,” Emily muttered, quickening her pace to put some distance between herself and her mom’s relentless praise. As they paused to admire a festive window display, Emily’s mom sighed dreamily. “And have you noticed how handsome Ben is, Emmy? Honestly, the man looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo. That jawline, those shoulders! I saw him with his shirt off when he was building that Habitat for Humanity house, and his chest – it’s like he stepped right out of a romance novel.” “Mom, please,” Emily muttered, tugging her scarf up to hide her reddening cheeks. Her mom wasn’t done. “I mean, someone really needs to help him pass on those genes, preferably to my grandchildren. Heck, if I were twenty years younger – ” “Okay, time out!” Chloe interjected, stepping between them like a referee. “Mom, take a deep breath. Emmy doesn’t need to hear about how you’d throw yourself at Ben if you had a time machine.” Their mom blinked, then laughed. “I’m just saying I’d let him do things I’d divorce your father for. Butt stuff. Face stuff, oh my gawd, all over the face!” “Mom!” “Oh, Chloe, don’t be so dramatic.” Chloe grinned. “I’ll be dramatic if it saves Emmy from spontaneously combusting.” “Thank you,” Emily muttered under her breath as Chloe shot her a wink and steered the conversation toward the window display. “So, who wants to bet Mom starts planning your wedding by lunchtime?” “Did you know he sings and plays three instruments. The guitar, the drums, and the flute, Emily– a male flautist. Every week at church …” “Mom!” Chloe and Emily both barked. By the time they reached the Chestnut Boutique, Emily was ready to call it a day. The classy store was filled with soft lighting, cozy textiles, and the faint scents of vanilla and cedarwood. Emily focused on the shelves, as shoppers do, hoping to find a distraction in the form of a gift for Andrea or her mom. But, as if summoned by Emily’s exhaustion, Meghan Sanderson and her clique – Kara and Brittany – entered the shop, their presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. Meghan, with her perfectly styled hair and gleaming designer boots, zeroed in on Emily like a hawk spotting prey. “Well, well,” Meghan said, her smile sharp. “If it isn’t Emmy Baxter.” Emily straightened, her grip tightening on a scarf. “Meghan.” “I hear you’ve got a date with Ben Wright tonight,” Meghan said, her voice dripping with faux friendliness. “It’s not a date,” Emily said firmly. Meghan ignored her, leaning closer. “Just so you know, I’ve been after Ben for a while. And I got dibs.” Emily blinked, caught flat-footed again. “Dibs?” “Yes, dibs,” Meghan said with a smug smile. “Ben and I have ... history.” Emily opened her mouth to respond, but once again, Meghan barreled on. “I mean, you’re cute and all, but let’s be honest – Ben needs someone who really understands him. Someone who fits his lifestyle.” Kara and Brittany giggled behind her, their laughter like Karens speaking to minorities. Before Emily could summon a response, Andrea stepped in, her expression calm but her tone razor-sharp. “You’ve got dibs? That’s rich, Meghan. If he wasn’t literally the nicest person in the world, he’d scrape you off like something he stepped in sooner than talk to you. The only history you two have is the time he weaned you off diet pills at the clinic he volunteers at.” Meghan’s smile faltered. “Excuse me?” “Oh, you heard me,” Andrea said, her voice cutting through the boutique like a knife. “And btw, nice boots. Did your ex pay for those, or did you use your other divorce settlement? I hear husband number two was loaded.” Meghan’s cheeks turned crimson, but Andrea didn’t stop. “Grow up, Meghan. You only want Ben because other people want Ben because you’re just as petty as you were back in high school round about the time you peaked. You’re a gold digger with zero redeeming qualities. You couldn’t even keep that eighty-year-old you bamboozled into marrying you for five minutes past the reception. So, no, Meghan, I don’t think you’ve got much of a chance. As for the silent sisters,” Andrea added before her righteous roll could come to an end, “you’ll always be stock characters.” Kara and Brittany looked away, clearly uncomfortable, as Meghan sputtered, her face now a deep shade of red. “You have no right – ” “How did you make it to almost 30 without being called the C-word in public,” Andrea said, brushing past her. “Come on, Emily. Let’s go.” Emily followed Andrea, her heart pounding. When they reached the hat display, Chloe popped up out of nowhere, holding a stylish hat-and-scarf set. “Perfect for tonight,” Chloe announced, draping the scarf over Emily’s shoulder. “It’s not a date,” Emily said automatically. “Sure, it’s not,” Chloe said, grinning. “But you’ll want to look good anyway.” “I don’t need to buy something special for a not-date,” Emily protested, but Chloe was already holding up the hat for her to try on. “Come on, Emmy,” Chloe said, her voice teasing. “You’re in a small town, about to go out with the most eligible guy in the Census Division. You’ve got to lean into the moment.” Emily sighed, finally pulling the hat on. “Fine. But only because I like the hat.” Chloe smirked. “You’ll thank me later.” As they left the boutique, Emily couldn’t shake the mix of nerves, frustration, and – just maybe – a tiny flicker of excitement. Chapter 6: A Walk Down Memory Lane The soft glow of the string lights her mom had strung across the windows gave Emily’s childhood bedroom a warm, nostalgic feel. The room still smelled faintly of 2017. Snow drifted lazily past the windowpanes, blurring the view of Chestnut Grove’s twinkling downtown in the distance. Emily stood in front of her old vanity, staring at her reflection with a mix of frustration and indecision. She leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her head as she dabbed at her eyeliner with a Q-tip. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “It’s not even a date.” The words felt hollow as soon as she said them. If it wasn’t a date, why was she spending so much time perfecting her eyeliner? Why had she let Chloe talk her into buying a new hat and scarf? She huffed and dropped the Q-tip onto the cluttered surface of the vanity, where her makeup bag was splayed open alongside old trinkets and faded photos she hadn’t touched in years, having lost the tactile enjoyment of photographs. Living in Really Big City hardens a person. Her gaze landed on a framed picture of herself, Chloe, and Lisa in matching Christmas sweaters. They couldn’t have been more than eight, six, and four. She smiled faintly, running her thumb over the edge of the frame. “This place has a way of getting to you,” she said softly to the empty room. In the silence, she could hear her father flushing a third time. “Good ol’ Dad,” she sighed. “I don’t even know why I left.” Even her inside voice sounded too loud in the cozy stillness, and she winced, glancing at the door as if someone might overhear her talking to herself. She sat down at the vanity, twirling her curling iron absently in her hand, lost in her wandering thoughts and reflections. “Okay, that’s a lie,” she said after a moment. “I do know why I left. I wanted more. I wanted to prove that I could make it on my own. Not in the way literally everybody everywhere makes it on their own because that’s the very nature of adulthood, but on my own like in an 80s movie set in Really Big City.” Her eyes flicked to the window, where a faint reflection of her bedroom mingled with the snow outside. “And I did make it,” she said firmly. “I’ve got a good job. A great job. I live in Really Big City City. I’ve built a life for myself.” Her voice faltered. “Even if that life means I spend my days designing boring, white diapers no one cares about.” A fourth flush. “I learned perseverance from that man. I can’t just give up.” She sighed and turned back to her reflection, curling a strand of hair before letting it fall. “I mean, it’s not like I hate my job,” she said, her tone defensive, as though she was trying to convince herself. “I just... I thought it would be different. I thought I’d be making products that actually help people, you know? Diapers that inspire confidence. Diapers that are cute. Diapers that are beautiful. Diapers that are fun. Diapers that are... sexy.” She laughed at herself, shaking her head. “Sexy diapers. Yeah, right. I can barely get the design team to consider pastels.” Still, the idea lingered, filling her chest with a flicker of the passion she’d felt when she first started. “I just want to make something people can feel good about wearing,” she murmured. “Something that gives them back their dignity … and their libido.” Her eyes returned to the mirror, where her carefully applied makeup and softly curled hair framed her face. She sighed again, setting down the curling iron. “Not bad, Emmy,” she said, half-smiling at herself. “You clean up okay for a 25-year-old who doesn’t get much sun.” She stood and moved to her old closet, where the outfits she’d brought home hung in a neat line. Her fingers brushed over a simple black sweater dress she’d packed on a whim. It was flattering but understated – perfect for a night that wasn’t supposed to be a date. “Not a date,” she repeated under her breath, pulling the dress from the hanger. “Just a nice evening with an old friend.” Even as she said it, her thoughts turned to Ben. His easy smile, the way he had held her coat for her the night before, the way he had seemed genuinely interested in her work. She felt her cheeks warm and scowled at herself in the mirror. “Stop it,” she muttered, pulling on the dress. “It’s too late for that. You had your chance, and you blew it. And besides, you’ve got your career to think about. You’re not staying here.” The words felt heavier than she’d expected, and she paused, staring at her reflection … again. “I’m not staying here,” she repeated, softer this time, as though saying it aloud would make it true. Still, a part of her couldn’t deny how much she had enjoyed her time in Chestnut Grove. Even with her mom’s overbearing enthusiasm and extended monologues about discovering internet porn, even with the small-town gossip and the awkward run-ins with people she hadn’t seen in years, there was something comforting about being home. About sitting at the kitchen table with her sisters and their kids. About watching Chloe tease their mom and Lisa quietly stepping in to diffuse the chaos while Dad wandered through the house smiling like he had no lines. “I miss this,” she admitted to herself. “I miss the simplicity. The coziness.” But then she thought of her tiny apartment in Really Big City, the hum of the streets, the endless opportunities she’d never seize waiting just outside her door. She thought of the hated career she had built, the independence bordering on loneliness she had fought so hard to claim. Tough to give all that up, for some reason, I guess. “I miss that, too,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I guess... I just want it all.” She stepped back from the mirror, smoothing the dress over her hips as she turned to survey herself. She pulled on the scarf Chloe had picked out, tying it loosely around her neck, and added the matching hat. It was a little more effort than she was used to, but as she looked at her reflection yet again, she had to admit – it worked. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she grabbed it, glancing at the screen. A text from Chloe: You better not back out. I swear I’ll drag you to the skating rink myself. Emily smiled despite herself and typed back: Not a chance. Chloe, all of 22, youth and life in a small-town protecting her zest for life. Emily had such zest once, before she was 25, before career womaning, before Really Big City. She slipped on her coat and boots, glancing around the room one last time. The lights twinkled softly in the windows, and the scent of lavender and pine filled the air. Some moms go through the same playlist all through Christmas; Emily’s mom rotated candles like a West Baltimore smokehound. For a moment, Emily felt like she was sixteen again, getting ready for a winter dance and wondering if her crush would notice her. “Don’t overthink it,” she told herself, reaching for the door handle. “It’s just a night of fun.” But as she stepped into the hallway, she couldn’t help but feel the flicker of hope that maybe – just maybe – this wasn’t just another night. Chapter 7: On Thin Ice The skating rink sat in the heart of Chestnut Grove’s Christmas Village, a picturesque setup straight out of a snow globe. Strings of white lights twinkled overhead, draped between lampposts wrapped in garlands. Carolers dressed in Victorian costumes stood nearby, harmonizing on “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” while the warm scent of roasting chestnuts wafted through the crisp night air. A Dickensian troupe staged a lively rendition of A Christmas Carol by the Christmas market, drawing cheers and laughter from the crowd, which would surprise anyone who ever read it because it’s really not that kind of book. But any book can be any kind of book; it’s Christmas for books too, especially small towns. Emily stood near the rink’s edge, pulling her scarf tighter against the cold. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this immersed in the holiday spirit – or this nervous. “Hey,” came Ben’s voice, warm and familiar, cutting through the cheerful bustle. Emily turned to see him walking toward her, his skates slung casually over his shoulder. His cheeks were already pink from the cold, and his smile lit up his face like Christmas lights … or maybe the Christmas lights just made it seem that way because he was smiling near some, as is traditional in small towns at Christmas. “You’re here,” she said, her heart doing a little flip. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, stopping in front of her. His eyes swept over her outfit, and his smile deepened. “You look stunning.” Emily flushed and laughed self-consciously. “I’m wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. I may have overdone it with the coat and scarf … even though it’s Christmas in New England and, like, 20 below freezing. I mean, look at all these people – all their faces hurt.” “No,” Ben said firmly, his tone sincere. “You look... perfect.” The earnestness in his voice caught her off guard, and for a moment, she couldn’t think of a reply. Instead, she tucked a strand of hair under her hat and gestured toward the rink. “Do you skate often?” Ben grinned and held up his skates in reply. “How about you?” “Oh, I haven’t skated in years,” Emily admitted as they approached the rental booth. She told the attendant her shoe size. “This is probably a terrible idea. Don’t laugh if I end up face-first on the ice.” “I promise I won’t laugh,” Ben said, his eyes twinkling. “Much.” Emily rolled her eyes but smiled as the attendant handed her a pair of rental skates. She followed Ben to a nearby bench, where he sat down and laced up his skates with practiced ease. Emily fumbled with hers, muttering under her breath about how complicated they were. “Here,” Ben said, crouching in front of her. “Let me help.” She started to protest but stopped when their eyes met. His hands moved deftly, threading the laces and tying them securely. For a moment, everything else faded – the carolers, the bustling market, the laughter from the rink. It was just Ben, crouched in front of her, his face inches from hers, his eyes warm and steady. Eyes … he had some, and she did too. Emily felt her breath catch. “There,” he said softly, sitting back on his heels. “All set.” “Thanks,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed – not entirely from the cold. The ice glistened under the lights as Emily stepped tentatively onto the rink. Her legs wobbled immediately, and she grabbed the railing for balance. Ben glided effortlessly beside her, his movements smooth and confident. “See? Terrible idea,” she said, clinging to the railing. “You’re doing fine,” Ben said, offering his hand. “Come on, I’ve got you.” She hesitated before taking it, his grip warm and steady against the chill in the air. As they moved away from the railing, Emily wobbled again, and Ben tightened his hold, catching her before she could fall. “Okay, maybe you were right,” he teased. “But I’m not letting you fall.” His words felt like a promise, and Emily smiled despite her nerves. “I hope you mean that, Ben Wright.” She spent the next several seconds wondering why she said his full name just then, unsure what meaning she was trying to imbue. A Christmas mystery. They started skating slowly, their hands still clasped. At first, Emily’s steps were awkward, and she stumbled more than once, but Ben stayed beside her, steady and patient. Gradually, her confidence grew, and before long, they were moving in sync, gliding along the ice as Christmas music played softly over the speakers. “This is nice,” Emily said after a while, her voice almost lost in the hum of the rink. “I forgot how much fun skating could be.” Ben smiled at her. “It’s kind of like Chestnut Grove itself – easy to take for granted until you come back.” Ben was too humble to ever say so but he could find a way to compare almost anything to Chestnut Grove. Emily’s smile faltered slightly. “Yeah. It’s been a long time.” “Do you miss it?” Ben asked gently. She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the twinkling lights reflected in the ice. “Sometimes. I miss the simplicity. The way everyone knows each other. How everything feels … cozier.” The very things she was bitching about mere hours ago transformed into virtues. She’d have to tell Chloe about it so she could record it in the app. Ben nodded but didn’t press her to continue. After a moment, Emily added, “But I like the city, too. There’s so much to do, so many opportunities. It’s exciting... or at least it used to be.” Ben’s brow furrowed. “Used to be?” Emily bit her lip, debating whether to say more. But something about Ben – the way he listened, the way he seemed to genuinely care – made her want to open up. “I moved to Really Big City because I wanted to do something meaningful. I wanted to help people. And I thought designing adult diapers could actually make a difference.” Ben’s eyes softened. “And has it?” “Not the way I hoped,” she admitted. “I mean, the company I work for doesn’t care about innovation or creativity. They just want the same boring designs over and over. It’s... frustrating.” Ben gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “So what do you want?” Emily blinked, caught off guard by the question. No one except friends, family, guidance counselors, professors, colleagues, and her manager ever asked her that, and she herself hadn’t thought of it since she left her bedroom forty minutes ago. “What do you mean by those words in that order that I have heard many times before?” “I mean, what do you want?” he asked. The vocal stress on you reminded her fleetingly that part of being a career woman is being a woman, and part of being a woman is being human, and humans when spoken to in the second person are referred to as you. “What do you want? If you could have anything – your dream career, your dream life – what would it look like?” Emily hesitated, the words bubbling up before she could stop them. “I want to design products that matter. I want to make diapers that are more than just functional – diapers that inspire confidence. Diapers that are cute, stylish, even... sexy. I want people to feel good about wearing them. To feel seen, respected. Ben smiled, his eyes lighting up with admiration. “That’s... amazing, Emily. I’ve never thought about it that way, but you’re right. Dignity is huge, especially for something like that.” Emily felt a rush of warmth at his words. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I feel crazy sometimes for dreaming about sexy diapers.” “You’re not crazy,” Ben said, his tone firm. “You’re passionate. And you’re right – people deserve products that make them feel confident. You’re doing important work, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.” Emily stared at him, her chest tight with emotion. “I can’t believe I’m saying all this. I usually keep this stuff to myself except for telling my coworker, mom, sister and Andrea just since Chapter 1.” “Sometimes it’s easier to talk when someone’s listening,” Ben said with a small smile. “And I’m always happy to listen.” Emily felt a warmth spread through her chest and something slippery spread through panties, a mixture of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite name. A man who listens … Ope! There’s that slippery stuff again. “And I want more than just a career,” Emily declared. “I want literally everything else, too. I want it all. I bet you’ve never heard of a woman wanting it all before, Ben Wright. There are no such women in places like Chestnut Grove except for the ones who live there or happen to be vacationing at one of the many charming B&Bs.” “You are an original character like no one I’ve ever met or seen on television before, Emily Baxter. You want some cocoa?” he asked. “The booth over there has the best in town.” “That sounds amazing,” Emily said, her lips curving into a smile. As they skated toward the exit, a small child suddenly darted across their path. Ben reacted instinctively, veering sharply to avoid the child. His skates caught an uneven patch of ice, and he went down with a thud. “Ben!” Emily exclaimed, rushing to his side. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, laughing as he sat up. “Just my pride that’s bruised.” Emily knelt beside him, reaching out to help him up. As he shifted, his coat and shirt rode up slightly, revealing the waistband of his jeans – and above that, the unmistakable elastic band of a WetGuard Supreme diaper. Emily froze, her hand still on his arm. Recognition hit her like a jolt, her mind flashing back to the designs she’d been working on just before coming home. The waistband was exactly the same. There was no mistaking it. Ben looked at her, his expression shifting as he realized what she’d seen. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, without a word, Ben adjusted his coat and got to his feet, brushing off the snow. “You okay?” Emily asked, her voice careful. “Yeah,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Let’s get that cocoa.” Emily nodded, her thoughts spinning as she followed him toward the booth. The festive cheer of the Christmas Village swirled around them, but all she could focus on was the strange turn the evening had taken – and the questions now racing through her mind. _________________ If you're good for Santa (who is me in this context, apparently 🤣) the rest will come after Christmas, but you can get the whole thing now on my Ream or Subscribe Star.

To read this and get new chapters sooner, head to my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1550195 Chapter 9: Diagnosis The room was still, the weight of anticipation hanging in the air like an invisible fog. Miriam sat on the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, while Michael stood by the window, staring out at the backyard, his arms crossed. Julie and Matt were seated on the loveseat, side by side, their expressions tense as they exchanged glances every now and then. Jenny, Reilly’s babysitter, hovered near the doorway, her posture uncertain, but her face carefully composed. It was a scene of quiet tension, the kind that only deepened in the presence of a truth no one wanted to face. Dr. Carrington sat opposite them in an armchair, her clipboard balanced on her knee, pen poised as though she were still collecting her thoughts. She had spent the past couple days observing Reilly, noting his behaviors, his struggles, and the subtle but undeniable changes in his cognitive and physical abilities. Now, it was time to deliver her diagnosis. “Thank you all for being here,” Dr. Carrington began, her tone calm, steady, and gentle. She glanced around the room, making sure to meet the eyes of each family member. “I know this has been a difficult time for all of you, and I appreciate how much love and support you’ve shown Reilly throughout this process.” Miriam nodded faintly, though her grip on her hands tightened. Julie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, biting her lip, while Matt remained still, his expression unreadable. Michael finally turned away from the window to face the group, though his stance remained stiff. “Based on what I’ve seen,” Dr. Carrington continued, “along with the information you’ve shared with me, I believe that Reilly is in the early stages of what we refer to as adult-onset regression.” The words landed heavily in the room, though no one seemed particularly surprised. It was more the confirmation of a growing suspicion, a fear that had been lingering in the background for some time. “What does that mean, exactly?” Julie asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Dr. Carrington took a breath and leaned forward slightly, her tone compassionate but direct. “Adult-onset regression is a condition where an individual gradually reverts to earlier developmental stages—emotionally, cognitively, and, in some cases, in their physical capabilities as well. It’s a rare condition – about 1 in every 250,000 adults – and while the causes can vary, it often manifests as a response to overwhelming stress or trauma. In Reilly’s case, we know it was his fear of starting college while still wetting the bed at night. He is currently in what we call ‘Stage 1’ of regression.” Miriam exhaled softly, as if she had been holding her breath. Michael uncrossed his arms but stayed silent. The tension in the room deepened, as if everyone was bracing for what came next. “Reilly is experiencing emotional regression,” Dr. Carrington explained, her voice measured and clear. “He is more prone to mood swings, increased frustration, and emotional volatility. These are all signs that his brain is struggling to cope with the demands of adulthood, and as a result, he is beginning to revert to a more childlike emotional state. The poor behavioral choices and tantrums are how those manifest most obviously, but less obviously Reilly is struggling to regulate his emotions and think through them with the clarity an adult should have. You’ve all noted that and adjusted rules and discipline for him, which is exactly what he needs right not.” Julie’s face tightened, and she glanced over at her mother, who remained quiet, her gaze fixed on the floor. “But it’s not just emotional,” Dr. Carrington continued, her eyes shifting to Michael, who was watching her intently now. “Adult-onset regression is a cluster of emotional, cognitive, and physical changes, each of which has its own set of stages. Overall, though, Reilly is entering Stage 2 of regression, where we begin to see the loss of independence in basic tasks. He’s starting to have trouble with things that were once routine like toileting hygiene and managing his own time. He’s still capable of doing these tasks with help, but you’ll likely notice he requires more reminders and assistance.” Matt finally spoke, his voice gruff but laced with concern. “So what are we supposed to do?” Dr. Carrington met his gaze, her tone firm but compassionate. “Supporting him like you’re doing now. It will need to evolve as Reilly’s regression does, but mostly in the way in which you support him. Reilly will need structure and routine to help maintain as much independence as possible, but he will also need your patience as he adjusts to these changes.” Michael stepped forward, his face tense. “And what about… the other stuff? He’s been having… accidents.” Dr. Carrington nodded, her expression gentle. “The incontinence. Reilly is currently in Stage 5 of incontinence, meaning he is having difficulty making it to the bathroom for bowel movements. That’s not typical of regression in stage 1, but Reilly was already wetting his bed, so his handle on continence was already comparatively weak. Difficulty making it to the bathroom for bowel movements is a particularly distressing stage for both the individual and their caregivers. It’s important to approach this with understanding, not shame. Accidents will happen, and he may try to hide them or deny them out of embarrassment. You’ve already put him back in daytime diapers, which is smart. Most families don’t do that until accidents have become the norm, which only makes incontinence more distressing for everyone. You’ve also figured out, as most don’t, that pull-ups can’t handle an adult’s bowel incontinence. Maintaining a compassionate attitude will help him feel more secure.” Miriam pressed her lips together, the weight of this reality sinking in. “Do we …” she ventured … “Is the incontinence going to improve, or at least stay like this? Do we take him to the toilet as if he were potty training or when he asks for it?” Dr. Carrington knew incontinence was often the most difficult struggle both for the patient – losing something so basic and fundamental to their adulthood – and their caregivers, who must take on an unpleasant task but also recognize it as the clearest sign their loved one is changing. “The incontinence is most likely to worsen and eventually become complete. That’s the bad news. The good news, and I know it isn’t great, is Reilly will reach the point where he’s not aware he’s voiding or even aware after the fact. How is that good news? It means the incontinence will at least become less distressing to him.” Jenny, who had been quiet until now, cleared her throat softly. “He’s already been… embarrassed about it. Humiliated or mortified are better words.” Jenny said, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve tried to make it seem like it’s no big deal, but I can tell it bothers him more than anything.” “You’re doing the right thing,” Dr. Carrington reassured her. “Because it is so distressing, it’s good to still take him to the toilet. That gives him the sense of control and maybe even that he’s improving. But don’t treat it like potty training. Just as you don’t shame him for using his diapers, don’t celebrate it when he makes it to the potty. That will only make his accidents seem like much bigger failures to him. Whether he makes it to the toilet or uses his diapers, for now, the less attention you draw to the accidents, the better. Just focus on helping him clean up and move forward.” “So when do we give up on taking him to the toilet altogether,” Matt asked. “It’s different for every patient. My advice is you’ll know when it’s time. At that point, you actually do want to praise him for using his diapers. We call it diaper training, and the purpose is to make him less ashamed of needing diapers and less distressed about accidents. Over time, he’ll become less self-conscious about it, especially as his emotional awareness shifts.” Julie spoke again, her voice tentative. “What about… physically? He’s been dropping things more, and I’ve noticed his hands shaking a little.” Dr. Carrington nodded, flipping to the next page on her clipboard. “That’s another early sign of regression. Reilly is in Stage 1 of physical changes, where we start to see a decline in fine motor skills. His hands are becoming less precise, which is why he’s struggling with tasks like writing and wiping. This will likely progress over time, but for now, it’s important to offer help when he seems frustrated or unable to complete a task on his own.” Michael let out a long breath, his frustration evident. “And what about his mind? He’s been forgetting things, getting distracted all the time.” “That’s also part of Stage 1,” Dr. Carrington said, her tone gentle but firm. “Reilly is experiencing mild forgetfulness and increased distraction. This is the cognitive side of his regression, where he’s starting to lose focus more easily and forget simple things, like where he put something or what he was just doing. It’s not severe at this point, but it’s something you’ll notice more as time goes on. The biggest change you’ll see cognitively is less and less ability to think ahead.” Miriam finally looked up, her eyes full of quiet desperation. “Is he… aware of this? Does he know what’s happening to him?” Dr. Carrington paused, her expression softening. “At this stage, yes. Reilly is still aware that something is changing. That’s where a lot of his frustration is coming from – he knows that things are becoming harder for him, and that’s deeply upsetting. But as the regression continues, his awareness will likely fade. It’s a blessing in a way. Adults in the latter stages of regression tend to be happy provided they are well cared for. They’re very similar to toddlers emotionally and cognitively. If they are happy, they are all the way happy; if they’re not, they’re all the way not. Provided they get the care they need, they’re happy much more often than not. Right now, though, he’s still trying to fight against it, and that’s a source of sadness and anger for him. But over time, he will become more accepting of his new reality.” There was a long, heavy silence in the room, the weight of Dr. Carrington’s words sinking into the hearts of everyone present. The diagnosis, while expected, felt final in a way that none of them were fully prepared for. Julie broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. “What do we do now?” Dr. Carrington looked around the room, her gaze landing on each family member, her voice calm but resolute. “You do what you’ve been doing. You support him. You create routines, provide structure, and offer help when he needs it. But most importantly, you show him love and patience. Reilly is still Reilly. This process will change him, yes, but your support will be the anchor that keeps him grounded as he navigates these changes.” Miriam nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. Michael’s expression softened as he moved to stand beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Julie and Matt exchanged a glance, both of them quiet but resolved. Jenny, still standing by the doorway, spoke up again. “And if things get worse?” Dr. Carrington met her gaze. “Then you reach out for more support. I’ll be with you every step of the way, and there are other resources available—support groups, additional caregivers, and therapeutic options. You don’t have to do this alone.” Dr. Carrington observed the family as they digested the diagnosis, the weight of the information settling slowly. Reilly’s regression was real, but he was still early in the process, and now it was time to focus on how to navigate this challenging new reality. Behavior management would be critical to maintaining structure and ensuring that Reilly felt secure as his emotional and cognitive state shifted. “We’ve gone over where Reilly is in his regression,” Dr. Carrington began, her calm, measured voice cutting through the silence, “but now we need to talk about behavior. Specifically, how to manage misbehavior in the context of his regression.” Miriam nodded, looking more determined than uncertain. “We’ve already had to discipline him—timeouts, taking away privileges, and even spanking. Like I told, he was the one who actually wanted spanking, but not as discipline. He thought it would help with his bedwetting. Look where we are now. It’s been hard to know if we’re doing the right thing.” Dr. Carrington offered a reassuring smile. “That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss. What you’ve been doing—timeouts, taking away privileges, and spanking—are all appropriate responses, even more so as Reilly’s regression progresses. As his emotional and cognitive control diminishes, he’ll become more prone to emotional outbursts and misbehavior. Discipline isn’t about punishment or shame—it’s about structure, which helps him feel safe.” Michael, standing by the window with his arms crossed, looked up thoughtfully. “So how do we know when it’s misbehavior and not just the regression?” “Excellent question,” Dr. Carrington said, her tone firm but kind. “The key is understanding where Reilly is cognitively. He’s entering Stage 2 of emotional regression, which means that while his emotional maturity is slipping, he’s still capable of understanding rules and consequences. When Reilly breaks rules he know he has, is dishonest, refuses to cooperate with diaper changes, or ignores your instructions, that’s misbehavior—especially if he knows he’s doing something wrong.” Julie shifted in her seat. “He knows, all right. He’ll push back when it’s something he doesn’t want to do, like when we tell him it’s time for bed.” “And that’s exactly when discipline becomes crucial,” Dr. Carrington explained. “The goal isn’t to punish Reilly, but to reinforce boundaries that help him navigate his world. Right now, all of these rules and routines – the nap time, the early bedtime, asking permission for things he didn’t need permission for just a couple months ago, certain choices he can’t make himself – it feels intrusive and unnecessary. But it is necessary, maybe not crucial yet but it will be in the near future. As he regresses emotionally, he’ll need more guidance, and clear, consistent consequences will help him feel secure and will make your job as caregivers much easier.” Matt, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, added, “So, how do we make sure we’re handling it the right way? I’m not always sure when we should step in.” “Discipline, especially for a regressed adult like Reilly, is most effective when it’s used consistently,” Dr. Carrington replied. “You want to be authoritative, not authoritarian. Let him have a say when you can; give him limited options to pick from. Don’t overreact if he’s arguing back. If he won’t make a decision, or keeps arguing after you’ve made the decision and told him it’s final, you can use the same strategies you’ve already been using. Natural consequences are always best when possible. When they’re not, timeouts, which are a good opportunity for everyone to calm down and loss of privileges like taking away toys or screen time are excellent tools. And, as you mentioned, spanking can be used when his behavior escalates. It’s not about punishment, but about creating structure.” Miriam sighed softly. “He responds to spanking, but I always feel bad about it afterward. He’s already so embarrassed about needing extra care.” Dr. Carrington’s expression softened. “That’s understandable. But spanking, in this context, serves an important purpose. It stops the misbehavior before it spirals out of control. Regressed adults like Reilly, especially with their adult-sized bodies, can become a danger to themselves or others if misbehavior or tantrums escalate. There’s a difference, by the way: a true tantrum is the result of them having bigger emotions than they can handle in the moment. It’s not something they plan or control, especially as the regression deepens and they lose some of their ability for abstract thinking. You can’t throw a tantrum to get what you want if you’re cognitively unable to understand how your behavior influences others’ behavior or plan ahead. Until that point, however, some outbursts that seem like tantrums aren’t; they’re misbehavior.” She let that sink in for a moment. “If Reilly really were a toddler, I would advise against punishment for true tantrums because they’re not deliberate. Natural consequences are better in those cases. If they tantrum in the toy store, you leave the store. Every parent has been there. With a regressive adult, you can’t count on a tantrum not escalating to the point of throwing, hitting, kicking, or destructive behavior. And you can’t just pick Reilly up and take him out of the toy store. That’s why whether it’s a true tantrum or misbehavior, the goal is always to nip it in the bud. By stepping in early with firm discipline, you’re preventing those dangerous behaviors. Remember, it’s about keeping him and you safe, not about punishment.” Michael, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “And he’ll need that consistency no matter where he is, right?” Dr. Carrington nodded. “Exactly. What’s most important is maintaining consistency—whether you’re at home, out in public, or visiting family. Reilly should experience the same care and discipline no matter the setting. That means following through with things like diaper changes, timeouts, or even spanking, wherever you are.” Matt furrowed his brow. “But what about when we’re out in public? We’ve had situations where he’s refused to cooperate, and it’s… awkward.” “I understand it can be uncomfortable,” Dr. Carrington said. “But the worst thing you can do is avoid disciplining him because you’re worried about public embarrassment. If Reilly realizes that the rules only apply at home, his behavior will get worse whenever you’re out. You need to be just as firm in public as you are at home.” Julie glanced at her brother, then back at Dr. Carrington. “It’s hard to imagine spanking him in public… but I get what you’re saying. If we don’t follow through, he’ll think he can get away with it.” Dr. Carrington gave a small nod. “Exactly. Consistency is key. Whether it’s a timeout in a quiet corner of a store or a spanking in a restroom or the car, the discipline needs to happen when the behavior occurs. Reilly will learn that the rules are the same no matter where he is. This helps prevent more serious misbehavior from developing.” Michael’s expression softened slightly. “So, you’re saying it’s not about embarrassment—it’s about what’s best for him.” “That’s right,” Dr. Carrington said. “Compare it to a diaper change. If Reilly has a messy diaper away from home, you change it, right? If he sits in a messy diaper for an extra hour, though, there’s no harm done. If he has a messy tantrum, however, real harm is a possibility. That’s why you deal with it right away, know matter where you are. You’re not just correcting behavior—you’re helping him understand the boundaries that will keep him safe and secure. Yes, there will be awkward moments, and both Reilly and you all will feel embarrassed at times. But avoiding discipline because of embarrassment will only lead to more problems. Inconsistent care could lead to Reilly becoming house-bound, and house-bound regressed adults are often miserable.” Miriam winced slightly. “I don’t want that for him.” “And it won’t happen,” Dr. Carrington reassured her. “As long as you keep taking him out, involving him in family activities, and caring for him consistently, Reilly can continue to be part of the world around him. The embarrassment will fade, and you’ll find that people often become more understanding over time.” Matt crossed his arms thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine what people will say or do if they see Reilly getting scolded in public, let alone spanked in the car.” “I know,” Dr. Carrington replied. “It’s so far outside the norm. That’s why you keep the medical alert bracelet on Reilly and also those cards I gave you explaining Reilly’s condition and care. If you have any issues, show the card. You’d be surprise, though, how much people will mind their own business. It also gets easier over time as Reilly’s regression becomes visibly apparent.” She considered for a moment and added, “It’s not on families to be the champions of adult-onset regression or solve all the problems we have socially in caring for victims, but by caring for Reilly consistently and lovingly in public, you’re also raising awareness about this rare condition. The more people see a family caring for a regressed adult with compassion, the more people will know adult-onset regression exists and we combat the stigma surrounding disabilities like this more broadly. You’ll be surprised at how understanding people can be once they realize what’s happening.” Michael let out a deep breath. “So we just keep going. Keep involving him, keep taking him places.” Dr. Carrington smiled. “Yes. Reilly is still part of your family, and he deserves to participate in life just like anyone else. By giving him the structure and care he needs—whether at home or away from it—you’re ensuring that he doesn’t become isolated. And that’s what will make all the difference for his well-being. Home-bound regressive adults tend to be very unhappy, and their decline is much more rapid. Many families end up institutionalizing their loved one, and that can be avoided if you keep Reilly active and involved and care for him lovingly and consistently. I know this sounds like the worst thing that can happy to Reilly and to your family, and you will hate me for saying this, but it’s not. Well-cared for regressive adults and their families lead happy lives. It’s not easy, but it’s possible.” Miriam looked at her family, her resolve clear. “We can do that. We’ll keep taking him out, keep caring for him—no matter how hard it gets.” “Good,” Dr. Carrington said, her voice warm with approval. “Consistency, structure, and love—that’s what will help Reilly navigate his regression. And you’re already doing such an incredible job. Remember, it’s about giving Reilly the stability he needs to thrive, both at home and out in the world, whether he’s with you or another caregiver or authority figure.” ____ To continue reading the next chapter, head to my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1550195

To read ahead, go to my SubscribeStar. Chapter 8: Once a Simple Task Reilly was squirming in place on the couch, his face tense and flushed with effort. Jenny, seated nearby with her phone in hand, glanced over at him, noticing the familiar signs of discomfort and fidgeting that often meant one thing. She’d been keeping an eye on him all afternoon, and it was clear to her that Reilly was battling with the urge to go to the bathroom—but, as usual, he wasn’t doing anything about it or speaking up. She put her phone down and leaned forward, her tone gentle but encouraging. “Reilly, do you need to use the potty?” Reilly froze, his eyes darting up to meet hers before quickly looking away again. He hated how she could always tell. His cheeks reddened, and he mumbled, “I’m fine.” But Jenny had seen this before. She stood up and walked over to him, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay if you need to go. Let’s get you to the bathroom so you can try, okay?” Reilly hesitated, but after a moment, he gave a small, reluctant nod. He didn’t want to admit that she was right, but the pressure was building, and he knew he couldn’t hold it much longer. At least this time, he might be able to make it in time. Jenny gently placed a hand on his back, guiding him toward the bathroom. “You’re doing great, Reilly,” she said softly. “We’ll get there, and you’ll feel a lot better once you go. Just take your time.” The walk down the hall felt like an eternity for Reilly. His heart pounded in his chest, and the pressure in his stomach made him feel like he was on the verge of losing control. He hated this feeling—the mixture of fear and embarrassment, knowing that every step could mean the difference between success and another humiliating accident. When they finally reached the bathroom, Reilly hesitated at the door, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t want to admit that he needed help, but the reality of his situation weighed heavily on him. His nervousness and embarrassment had him almost shaking. His hands fumbled with the drawstring on his shorts, but Jenny stepped in. “Let me help you, sweetie,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. She knelt down and gently tugged his shorts down, then carefully pulled at the tapes of his diaper. The padding was slightly damp, and Reilly’s face flushed with embarrassment as she peeled it away. “There we go,” Jenny said, offering him a kind smile as she set the diaper aside. “Now you can sit down. Just take your time.” Reilly quickly sat down on the toilet, his face burning with humiliation. He was grateful that Jenny didn’t hover too close, but the fact that she had to help him at all confused him – Why hadn’t he taken himself to the bathroom? Did he even think to? He couldn’t remember. It made his stomach churn. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be—he was supposed to be able to do this on his own, like any other adult. “I’ll give you some privacy,” Jenny said gently, standing up and stepping toward the door. She gave him one last reassuring look before stepping out, pulling the door halfway closed to give him some space. Reilly sat there for a moment, staring at the floor. He hated how dependent he had become, how something as simple as using the bathroom had turned into this big ordeal. Or maybe he wasn’t dependent. Maybe they were making him think he was by the way they treated him, not letting him do stuff himself that he’d done all by his lonesome for most of his life. Maybe he shouldn’t be embarrassed but righteously angry. But despite the embarrassment, and maybe a hint of anger, a small part of him felt a flicker of pride. He had made it to the potty. He hadn’t had an accident—not this time, at least. And that flicker of pride made him angry, foremost at himself. He knew he shouldn’t feel proud of not having an accident; potty training toddlers feel that way. Not people starting college in the fall. It took a few minutes, but eventually, Reilly finished. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of pride and lingering humiliation swirling inside him. He took a deep breath and called out, “Jenny… I’m done.” Before he could wonder why he announced it, Jenny stepped back into the bathroom, her expression calm and reassuring. “Good job, Reilly,” she said, smiling as she approached him. “I’m really proud of you for making it in time.” Reilly felt a small surge of pride at her words, but it was quickly overshadowed again by embarrassment as Jenny knelt down beside him again. He shifted uncomfortably on the toilet seat, unsure of what to do next. “Okay, let’s make sure you’re all cleaned up,” Jenny said gently, reaching for some toilet paper. She paused for a moment and looked up at him. “Stay seated for me, alright? I just want to make sure you did a good job wiping.” Reilly’s face flushed bright red. The idea of her checking him—wiping him—was mortifying. He fidgeted in place, shaking his head slightly. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, his voice thick with embarrassment. “I…I wiped.” Jenny’s expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand on his knee. “I’m sure you tried, Reilly,” she said softly. “But it’s important to make sure you’re all clean. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about—I’m here to help you with things like this. It’s what I’m here for, okay?” Reilly swallowed hard, his face still burning. He didn’t want to argue, but the thought of Jenny wiping him was too much to bear. He shifted uncomfortably again, but after a long, tense pause, he finally gave a small nod. “Good boy,” Jenny said with a kind smile, her voice soothing as she took some toilet paper and gently had him lean forward. “Just relax, okay? I’ll be really gentle.” Reilly held his breath as she wiped him, his face bright red as he stared at the wall in front of him. The sensation was strange and humiliating, and he felt like he was being treated like a child, maybe even more so than when he got his diaper changed. But Jenny was calm and kind, her touch gentle and methodical as she wiped him clean. After a moment, Jenny paused, glancing down at the paper. “You’re still a little dirty, but that’s okay,” she said gently. “It’s nothing to worry about. That’s why I’m here—to help you with this sort of thing.” Reilly didn’t respond, but he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over. He didn’t want to cry in front of Jenny—not over something like this. Jenny finished wiping him. “Alright, all done here,” she said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. “Now, let’s wash our hands, and we’ll get you all cleaned up and back in a fresh diaper.” Reilly stood up slowly, avoiding her gaze as he shuffled over to the sink. He washed his hands in silence, his mind racing with a mixture of emotions. He was proud that he’d made it to the potty in time, but the whole experience had still left him feeling raw and exposed. Jenny, meanwhile, picked up the slightly damp diaper from the floor and folded it neatly, setting it aside, then washed her own hands. She then walked over to Reilly, and had him step out of shorts so he wouldn’t trip, placing a gentle hand on his back. “You did a great job, Reilly,” she said softly. “I know this is hard for you, but you’re doing really well.” Reilly gave a small nod, still avoiding her eyes as he dried his hands. The compliment felt good but wrong. “Let’s go to your room and get you comfortable,” Jenny said, her voice soothing as she guided him out of the bathroom and down the hall, he cool breeze on his bare butt reminding him of his situation and preventing him from just appreciating how kind Jenny was. Once they were in his room, Jenny patted the changing pad on the bed. “Go ahead and lie down, sweetie. I’ll finish wiping you up, and then we’ll get you into a fresh diaper.” Reilly hesitated for a moment, his stomach twisting with embarrassment, but he lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Jenny gathered the supplies. Jenny moved slowly, not wanting to rush him. She knelt down beside him, grabbing some fresh wipes and gently cleaning his skin, the vantage point letting her do a more thorough job. And she was thorough, making sure he was completely clean before reaching for a new diaper. “You’re doing so well, Reilly,” she murmured as she worked. “I know it’s embarrassing, but this is just part of the routine now. And remember, it’s much better to have a clean diaper than to worry about accidents. You’re doing great.” Reilly stayed silent, his chest tight with emotion, but he appreciated her words more than he could express. He felt her fasten the diaper around him, the soft rips of the tapes and the crinkles the only sounds in the room. Once she was done, Jenny helped him sit up, giving him a warm smile as she sat down beside him on the bed. “You were really brave, Reilly,” she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I know this isn’t easy, but you’re doing an amazing job. And I’m really proud of you.” Reilly sniffled softly, blinking away the tears that had been threatening to fall. He didn’t say anything, but the warmth of Jenny’s arm around him made him feel a little more secure, a little more understood. “I know this is hard,” Jenny continued, her voice gentle. “But it’s going to get easier. And I’ll always be here to help you, okay? You’re not alone in this.” Reilly nodded, still too choked up to speak. He leaned into her slightly, grateful for her presence, even if he couldn’t put it into words, and even if part of him still resented her. After a few moments, Jenny asked softly, “Do you want to talk about anything, Reilly?” Reilly shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “No…” “That’s okay,” Jenny said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m just here for you.” Reilly sniffled again, his body still tense from the emotional weight of the day. Jenny rubbed his back gently, her presence warm and comforting. “Do you want to take a nap?” she asked softly. Reilly nodded, feeling exhausted from everything that had happened. “Yeah…” Jenny smiled and helped him lie down, tucking the blanket around him as she brushed a hand through his hair. “Okay, sweetie. Get some rest. You did a great job today.” As Reilly’s eyes fluttered closed, Jenny stayed by his side for a moment, watching as his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. ______________ To keep reading, go to my SubscribeStar.

Chapter 7: False Alarms, Missed Signals Reilly had been fidgeting for the past twenty minutes, his leg bouncing up and down as he sat on the couch next to Jenny. She had been keeping an eye on him, recognizing the signs of his discomfort, but she also noticed that he had been making frequent trips to the bathroom all day without much success. It was becoming clear to her that Reilly was trying desperately to avoid using his diaper, but it was also clear that it was causing him a lot of frustration. Just as Jenny was about to say something, Reilly stood up suddenly, his face flushed with determination. "I—I need to go to the bathroom again," he muttered, heading quickly toward the hallway. Jenny sighed softly, standing up to follow him. “Reilly, wait,” she called gently, trying to catch up with him. “You’ve been going back and forth all day. Are you sure you need to go?” Reilly didn’t look at her, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Yes, I’m sure,” he muttered, quickening his pace as he reached the bathroom. “I don’t want to have an accident.” Jenny caught up to him just as he pushed the bathroom door open. She could see the tension in his body, the way he was so determined to prove that he could make it in time, but she also knew that he had been struggling with these false alarms all day. It was as if he was trying to outsmart his own body, and it was wearing him down. “Reilly, it’s okay,” Jenny said softly, stepping into the bathroom behind him. “You don’t need to rush every time you think you have to go. Your body is still adjusting, and sometimes it’s hard to tell.” Reilly shot her a frustrated look, his face red with embarrassment. “I can tell!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. “I just… I don’t want to wet myself again. I know I need to go.” Jenny took a deep breath, trying to remain calm even as she saw the frustration bubbling over in him. “Okay,” she said gently, “let’s sit down, and we’ll see if you need to go.” She knelt down and gently helped him pull down his shorts and diaper, her movements slow and calm so as not to add to his anxiety. Reilly sat down on the toilet with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the floor. His leg bounced nervously, and Jenny could tell that he was working himself up even more with every passing moment. After a few minutes of silence, Reilly let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have to go,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. Jenny nodded, her tone soft and understanding. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “Sometimes your body plays tricks on you, and it feels like you have to go even when you don’t. That’s why your parents put you in diapers, remember? To take away that stress.” Reilly’s face flushed even more at the mention of the diapers, and he looked away, embarrassed and angry at the same time. He hated being reminded of the fact that he needed them, hated that he couldn’t control his body the way he wanted to. “Let’s get you dressed again,” Jenny said softly, standing up and gently pulling his diaper back into place. “You don’t need to worry about it. If you have an accident, that’s what the diaper is for.” But just as she finished pulling his diaper up and fastening the tapes, Reilly’s face froze. His breath hitched, and Jenny immediately realized what had happened. The soft sound of liquid hitting the absorbent material reached her ears, and her heart sank. Reilly had flooded his diaper almost as soon as she had finished putting it back on. Reilly’s face turned beet red with humiliation, but that embarrassment quickly gave way to anger. “See?” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration. “I did have to go! I knew it, and you didn’t let me!” Jenny took a step back, caught off guard by the intensity of his outburst. She could see the tears welling up in his eyes, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at her. His face was a mix of anger, shame, and betrayal, and Jenny’s heart ached for him. “Reilly, it’s okay,” Jenny said softly, trying to keep her voice calm despite the tension in the air. “It’s not your fault. Sometimes your body just doesn’t give you enough warning, and that’s why you have the diaper.” But Reilly shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You didn’t listen to me!” he shouted, his voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t believe me! I knew I had to go, and now I’m all wet!” Jenny felt a lump form in her throat as she watched him struggle with his emotions. She hadn’t meant to dismiss his feelings, but now he was too upset to see that she had been trying to help. She took a deep breath, knowing that she needed to soothe him before this escalated even further. “I’m so sorry, Reilly,” she said softly, stepping closer to him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I wasn’t listening. I know how frustrating this is for you. I know you’re trying your best.” Reilly sniffled, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared at the floor. He didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want to hear her apologies. All he wanted was to feel in control again, and right now, that felt impossible. Jenny knelt down beside him, her voice gentle and filled with empathy. “You’re doing so well, Reilly,” she said softly. “This isn’t your fault. It’s just your body doing what it does sometimes, and that’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay.” Reilly wiped at his eyes angrily, still refusing to meet her gaze. “I don’t want to wear diapers,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate them.” Jenny reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch light and comforting. “I know you do,” she said softly. “And I understand why. But you don’t have to go through this alone, Reilly. I’m here to help you, and I’m not going to let you face this by yourself.” Reilly sniffled again, his shoulders slumping as some of the anger began to drain out of him. He still felt humiliated, still felt betrayed by his own body, but Jenny’s voice was calm, soothing, and he couldn’t stay mad at her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Jenny gave him a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” she said gently. “I know you’re frustrated, and that’s okay. I just want you to know that I’m on your side, no matter what.” Reilly finally looked up at her, his eyes red and glassy with tears. “I just wanted to make it,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I wanted to prove I didn’t need the diaper.” Jenny’s heart broke at his words, and she gently reached out to wipe away a tear from his cheek. “I know, Reilly,” she said softly. “I know you’re trying, and I’m so proud of you for that. But sometimes, even when we try our best, things don’t always go the way we want them to. And that’s okay.” Reilly nodded slightly, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his emotions. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” Jenny said, her voice soft and kind. “We’ll put on a fresh diaper, and then we can do something fun. How does that sound?” Reilly didn’t say anything at first, but eventually, he gave a small nod. He still felt embarrassed and frustrated, but Jenny’s calm presence was starting to ease some of the tension inside him. Jenny stood up and gently helped him out of his wet diaper, her movements slow and careful. As she wiped him down and got him into a fresh diaper, she kept talking, her voice soothing and steady. “You’re doing great, Reilly,” she murmured as she worked. “I know this is hard, but you’re handling it really well. It’s okay to feel frustrated, and it’s okay to be upset. But just know that I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.” Reilly stayed quiet, but he appreciated her words more than he could express. By the time she had finished changing him, some of the tension had left his body, and though he still felt embarrassed, he no longer felt angry. Once he was in a fresh diaper, Jenny helped him sit up and gave him a gentle smile. “You’re doing great, Reilly,” she said softly. “And I’m really proud of you.” Reilly looked down at his hands, still feeling the weight of his emotions, but he nodded slightly. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice small. Jenny wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a gentle hug. “You’re welcome, sweetie,” she whispered. “And remember, I’m always here for you. No matter what.” As they sat there together, the tension slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a quiet understanding between them. Reilly knew that things wouldn’t always be easy, but with Jenny by his side, he also knew that he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Reilly will get a formal diagnosis in an upcoming chapter. It's already up on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1545012

The next 3 chapters are already on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/alexbridges Chapter 6: A Consequence From His Big Sister The day had started off smoothly enough. Julie was tasked with watching Reilly for the afternoon while their parents were out running errands. Jenny had the day off, so it was up to Julie to make sure her little brother stayed on track with his routine. Reilly didn’t mind; he liked hanging out with his older sister. They usually played video games together or watched movies, and Julie had a way of keeping things relaxed. But today was different. Reilly had been on edge since the morning. Maybe it was the discussion the family had the previous evening about the psychologist who would be observing Reilly for a few days, or perhaps it was just one of those days when nothing felt quite right. Whatever it was, his mood was simmering just below the surface, and Julie could see it. "Hey, Reilly," she called from the living room, glancing at her phone. "You want to play some games after lunch? I was thinking we could finish that new one you started last week." Reilly was sitting at the kitchen table, poking at the sandwich Julie had made him. He barely looked up, mumbling something that sounded like, "Maybe later." Julie raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. She knew Reilly well enough to recognize when he needed space. Still, she had to keep things on track. Mom and Dad had left her with clear instructions: make sure Reilly eats, keeps up with his routine, and stays out of trouble. After a few minutes, Julie walked over to the table and sat down across from him. "You haven’t touched your food," she pointed out gently. "Come on, you know you need to eat." Reilly scowled, pushing the plate away with more force than necessary. "I’m not hungry." "Reilly," Julie’s voice softened, but there was a hint of firmness. "You need to have lunch. You have to eat something today with some protein in it. I’ll even let you have something sugary Mom would kill me for later." "I said I’m not hungry!" Reilly snapped, his frustration bubbling over. Just a week ago he ate when he wanted and what he wanted, for the most part. Now mealtimes were part of his routine, and while he had a say in what he ate, he was no longer the decider. Julie blinked, taken aback by his tone. "Okay, relax. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just—" "I’m not a baby, Julie!" Reilly stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back. His voice was loud, too loud, and the frustration that had been simmering all day was suddenly boiling over. Julie’s expression shifted, her usual relaxed demeanor replaced by something more serious. "Reilly, calm down." "I don’t need you bossing me around! I can do what I want!" His fists clenched at his sides, his face flushed with anger. He didn’t know why he was so upset, but it felt like everything was closing in on him. He didn’t want to be told what to do, not by anyone. Julie stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving Reilly’s face. She was trying to stay calm, but she knew this could escalate if she didn’t handle it carefully. "Reilly, you need to settle down. I’m just trying to help." "I don’t need your help!" Reilly shouted, taking a step back. Julie took a deep breath. She had seen this before—Reilly’s moods could spiral quickly, and once he hit a certain point, reasoning with him was almost impossible. But she couldn’t let him think it was okay to act like this, even when it was just the two of them. It wasn’t only poor behavior, but spiraling toward a tantrum, and tantrums from regressed adults could end in someone getting hurt. "Alright," she said calmly, her voice firm. "If you’re going to keep acting like this, we’re going to have to deal with it." Reilly’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the tone. It was the tone Mom or Dad used when things were about to get serious. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaky now, the anger starting to give way to uncertainty. "You know what I mean," Julie replied, crossing her arms. "You’re misbehaving, and we need to deal with it before it gets worse." Reilly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the realization of what was coming sinking in. He hated this part. He hated that he couldn’t control his emotions sometimes and that it always led to this. "I’ll eat," he mumbled, glancing at the sandwich like it was suddenly the most important thing in the world. Julie shook her head. "It’s not about the sandwich anymore, Reilly. It’s about how you’re acting. When you get upset, you use your words and talk to me calmly and respectfully. We don’t shout in this house, and we don’t knock over chairs." Reilly looked down at his feet, his face red with embarrassment. He knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. "Come on," Julie said, her voice still calm but firm. "You know what happens when you misbehave." Reilly’s stomach dropped. "Please, Julie... I didn’t mean it." Julie sighed softly. "I know you didn’t. But you still have to face the consequences, Reilly. It’s how we keep things in check, remember?" He nodded slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He hated this part, but deep down, he knew it was necessary. He had been out of control, and Julie was only trying to help him get back on track. "Let’s take a moment to cool down in the corner," Julie said, motioning for him to follow. Reilly dragged his feet, the shame of the situation settling over him like a heavy blanket. Julie had disciplined him before, just like Mom and Dad did. She was always fair, never angry, but it didn’t make the experience any less humiliating. They reached the corner. "Alright, you know the drill. Five minutes, no talking. Take some deep breaths and think about what you should’ve done differently." She gave him a departing swat on the butt, far from hard, meant only to underscore what the next consequence might be if he didn’t take this one to heart. She sat down at the table and scrolled through her phone for the five minutes. Reilly, in the corner, spent those five minutes feeling embarrassed to be put in the corner like a naughty little boy. He knew it was part consequence and part calming technique, but the former always loomed larger. Even the calming part was embarrassing: he needed someone else to tell him to take a moment to gather himself, and he hadn’t until relatively recently. If consequences were a way he was losing control of what he did, the inability to react proportionally to something as minor as a bad mood and to check his own temper were ways in which he was losing control of himself. He knew it, it worried him, and he hated it. Reilly stood there, his eyes fixed on the floor. His chest tightened with anxiety, but there was no way out of this now. The alarm on Julie’s phone chimed. “Time’s up. Come sit with me.” Still looking at his floor, red-faced and unwilling to meet the eye of someone who was very recently his equal, he sat down next to her. "I don’t like doing that," she said softly. "But you know why it has to happen, right?" Reilly nodded, his face red, but the anger from earlier had evaporated, leaving only guilt behind. "I’m sorry," he muttered. Julie put a hand on his shoulder, her voice gentle again. "It’s okay. You just need to remember that when you’re feeling frustrated, you can talk to me instead of lashing out. I’m here to help, not to boss you around." Reilly nodded again, feeling the weight of the situation lift slightly. Julie had always been good at making him feel better, even after moments like this. "Come on," Julie said, sliding his plate toward him. "You still need to eat lunch, and after that, we can play some games. Sound good?" Reilly hesitated, then took her hand. "Yeah... that sounds good." As he finished his sandwich, Reilly felt a mix of relief and exhaustion. He hated misbehaving, but he knew that with Julie around, he’d always have someone who understood him—even when he didn’t fully understand himself. The next 3 chapters are already on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/alexbridges

For the next chapter and early releases, subscribe to my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1509452 Chapter 5: Jenny’s First Day with Reilly To make the transition easier for Reilly, for the first few days, she had come over while Miriam was at home, allowing him to get used to her. Despite their best efforts, however, he preferred his mom in all things. On their first morning alone after Miriam had gone back to work, it still felt strange to him to ask Jenny for anything, or really even to speak to her or let her see to his needs. Jenny didn’t mind the quiet, having anticipated it, but it wore on Reilly’s nerves. Reilly was sitting on the couch in the living room, absently flipping through channels on the TV. His eyes flickered toward Jenny every so often, as if he was trying to gauge her mood, trying to find the right moment to speak. Finally, after a long stretch of silence, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and muttered, “Jenny… I, um, need to go to the bathroom.” It was a small victory, not only because he hadn’t had an accident but because he told her. Even telling his mom when he needed to go felt unnatural to him still. Jenny glanced up from the book she’d been reading, catching the nervousness in his voice. “Of course, Reilly. Let’s go,” she said gently, standing up and offering him a reassuring smile. She knew this was a delicate situation for him, and she didn’t want to add to his anxiety. Reilly stood up slowly, his movements stiff and hesitant. Jenny noticed how tense he seemed, his steps faltering as they made their way down the hall toward the bathroom. It wasn’t far—just a short walk—but with each step, Reilly seemed to grow more anxious, his body rigid with nerves. About halfway there, Jenny saw it—the slight pause in his step, the way his face flushed red with embarrassment. She didn’t need him to say it to know what had just happened. “I, um… I don’t need to go after all,” Reilly mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, avoiding eye contact. Jenny’s heart sank. She could tell he was trying to hide the truth, and she hated seeing him so embarrassed. “Reilly, it’s okay,” she said softly, her voice calm and kind. “Accidents happen sometimes. That’s why you’re in diapers, remember? It’s not your fault.” Reilly’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he looked down at his feet, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I just didn’t have to go. I thought I did, but …” Jenny stepped closer, her expression gentle. “Let me check, okay? Just to be sure.” She kept her tone light, not wanting to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he already was. Reilly hesitated but nodded just so slightly, his body language stiff and reluctant. Jenny knelt down, reaching for the waistband of his shorts. She carefully pulled them down just enough to feel the front of his diaper, then reached between his legs and felt his bottom. It was damp and not warm. He had been wet for a while. Jenny’s heart ached for him. She wasn’t sure if he knew he was wet before this most recent accident, and she decided not to ask. It was moot. That’s what the diapers were for. “You’re wet, sweetie,” she said softly, standing up and giving him a gentle smile. “Let’s go to your room and get you changed, alright?” Reilly didn’t respond, but the slight slump of his shoulders told Jenny everything she needed to know. He was embarrassed, nervous, and unsure of what to say. Jenny placed a reassuring hand on his back as she guided him toward his bedroom. Once they were inside, Reilly stood awkwardly by his bed, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He looked down at the floor, avoiding Jenny’s gaze. It was clear that he was struggling with the idea of letting her change him for the first time without his mom there. Jenny sat down on the edge of his bed, her voice gentle and understanding. “Reilly, I know you’re nervous. This is new for both of us, and that’s okay. But I’m here to help you. Whenever you’re ready, we can get you changed.” Reilly didn’t say anything. He just sat down next to her, his face flushed, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to process the situation. Jenny could feel the weight of his discomfort, and she knew he needed time. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a blanket. Jenny didn’t rush him. She knew how important it was for Reilly to feel in control, even in moments like this. He needed to be the one to make the decision for a change, even if that sort of control was just an illusion he clung to. After a while, Jenny shifted on the bed, her tone still soft and patient. “It’s okay, Reilly. I’ll be really gentle, and it won’t take long. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m your friend, and I’m here to take care of you. Are you ready?” Reilly sniffled softly, his hands gripping the fabric of his bedspread tightly. He didn’t say anything, his breathing shallow as he tried to steady himself. Jenny placed a hand on his knee, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing great,” she whispered. “We’ll go at your pace. You don’t have to rush.” Reilly took a shaky breath and nodded slightly, his eyes still fixed on the floor. After another moment of hesitation, he finally lay back on the bed, his face turned away from Jenny, his body stiff with anxiety. Jenny’s heart swelled with empathy. She could see how hard this was for him, how vulnerable he felt. She wanted to make this as easy as possible. “You’re doing really well, Reilly,” she said softly, as she carefully pulled his shorts down his legs, exposing his soggy diaper. From the basket under his nightstand she retrieved what she needed to change him and set it next to him. She untaped the sides of his diaper, lifted it slightly, and left is over him just in case he wasn’t quite done.. “I’m here with you, and I promise this will be over quickly. I’m going to be really gentle.” Reilly didn’t respond, but his body trembled slightly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Jenny could hear him sniffle again, and her heart ached for him. She knew this was more than just a physical process—this was emotional, intimate, and deeply personal for him. It was important for her to handle it with care. She moved slowly, carefully pulling the wet diaper away from his body. Her movements were deliberate, wanting to make sure Reilly knew he was safe in her hands. She reached for the wipes, gently cleaning his skin with soft strokes. Reilly stayed still, but she could see the tension in his body, the way he squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to block out the embarrassment. “It’s okay, Reilly,” Jenny murmured as she worked, her voice calm and soothing. “You’re doing great. I know this is hard, but I’m really proud of you. I’m here to help, and I’ll always take care of you.” Reilly let out a shaky breath, still not speaking, but Jenny could see the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He was on the verge of crying, and she could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. She wiped him clean with care, making sure every part of him was tended to. She didn’t rush—she knew he needed time to get used to the feel of her hands, an intimacy he would need to get used to. Once he was clean, Jenny reached for the fresh diaper and slid it under him. She sprinkled some powder over his skin before carefully fastening the tapes, making sure the diaper fit snugly but comfortably. “All done,” she said softly, gently patting his leg. “You did such a good job, Reilly. I’m really proud of you.” Reilly didn’t say anything, but the tension in his body seemed to ease slightly. Jenny helped him sit up, moving slowly so as not to overwhelm him. Once he was sitting, she sat down next to him on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a comforting embrace. “You were really brave,” Jenny whispered, resting her head lightly against his. “I know how hard this is for you, but it’s going to get easier. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m always going to be here for you. And remember, this isn’t a big deal. It’s normal for both of us; it may not feel that way yet, but we’ll get there.” Reilly sniffled again, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He still didn’t speak, but Jenny could feel the way he leaned into her, seeking comfort. She rubbed his back gently, offering him all the support and care she could. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Jenny continued softly. “This is just part of the routine now. And remember, it’s better to have a wet diaper than wet pants, right? You’re doing the best you can, and that’s what matters.” Reilly nodded slightly, his head still down, his voice thick with emotion. “Yeah…” Jenny smiled softly, glad to see him starting to come around. She held him close, letting the silence fill the space between them, giving him time to process everything. After a few minutes, she spoke again, her voice gentle and kind. “Do you want to talk about anything, Reilly?” she asked, her tone inviting but not pressuring him. Reilly shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “No… not really.” “That’s okay,” Jenny said, still holding him close. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m just here to listen if you ever need to.” Reilly sniffled again, wiping at his nose. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally, and all he wanted was to crawl under the covers and shut out the world for a little while. “Do you want to take a nap?” Jenny asked gently, noticing how tired he seemed. Reilly nodded slowly, his body slumping against her. “Yeah… I’m tired.” Jenny smiled softly and stood up, helping Reilly get under the covers. She tucked the blanket around him, smoothing it out and making sure he was comfortable. As she did, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her voice full of warmth and care. “You did a really good job today, Reilly,” she whispered. “I’m proud of you. Get some rest, okay?” Reilly looked up at her, his eyes still glassy with emotion. “Thanks, Jenny,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. Jenny smiled and brushed a hand through his hair. “You’re welcome, sweetie. I’ll be right here if you need me.” As Reilly’s eyes fluttered closed, Jenny stayed by his side for a moment, watching as his breathing evened out and the tension slowly melted from his body. She knew today had been hard for him, but she was also proud of the way he had handled it. He was brave, even when he didn’t feel like it, and she knew that with time, things would get easier for him. After a few minutes, Jenny stood up quietly, leaving the room with the door slightly ajar. As she stepped into the hallway, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of responsibility and care for Reilly. She knew that their relationship would continue to grow, and that as his caregiver and friend, she would always be there to support him—no matter how difficult the road ahead might be. Jenny stepped softly into the hallway, letting out a small breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Today had been a big moment for both her and Reilly—a moment that, despite its awkwardness and tension, had strengthened the bond they shared. She knew how hard it had been for him, and she was determined to make each step forward as gentle and comforting as possible. Leaning against the doorframe, Jenny allowed herself a moment of reflection. This wasn’t just about caregiving. It was about building trust, helping Reilly feel secure in his vulnerabilities, and making sure he knew he wasn’t facing any of this alone. She could still feel the warmth of his small, tentative embrace when she had reassured him that everything was okay. That trust was precious, and Jenny vowed to always handle it with care. As she stood in the quiet hallway, Jenny’s mind returned to the look on Reilly’s face when she had coaxed him into his first change with her. There had been fear there, but also a longing for reassurance—something she had tried to provide through her touch and her words. She had noticed how, even as nervous as he was, Reilly had calmed slightly as she moved slowly and carefully, her hands steady but unhurried. She knew it would take time. For Reilly, this was all new, overwhelming, and undoubtedly scary. But every little step—every quiet moment of reassurance, every gentle touch—was bringing him closer to accepting the care he needed without shame. And that, Jenny reminded herself, was what she was here for: to help him through this journey, to make sure he never felt like a burden or that his needs were something to be embarrassed about. Jenny peeked back into Reilly’s room, watching his sleeping form for a few moments. His body was curled up under the blanket, his breathing slow and even now. His face, which had been flushed with nerves and embarrassment earlier, looked peaceful in sleep. She smiled to herself, glad to see him finally resting after such a difficult day. Slipping back into the room quietly, Jenny approached the bed, her movements careful not to disturb him. She sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing a few stray hairs off his forehead. For a moment, she just watched him sleep, feeling a wave of affection and protectiveness wash over her. “You’re doing great, Reilly,” she whispered softly, even though he couldn’t hear her. “I know it’s hard, but you’re brave. And I’m proud of you.” As she stood up to leave, she thought of the many days that lay ahead—days that would be filled with similar challenges, but also, hopefully, moments of peace and progress. Reilly’s journey was far from over, but Jenny knew they would face it together. And with every step, she would remind him that he didn’t have to carry the weight of his fears and insecurities alone. She was here, by his side, and she always would be. After one last glance at him, Jenny quietly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, just in case he needed her. The house felt calm and quiet, and for the first time since Miriam had left that morning, Jenny felt a sense of deep contentment. She knew Reilly would wake up feeling more at ease, knowing he had someone in his corner who cared for him and would never judge him. And for Jenny, that was enough. As the afternoon light streamed through the windows and the house settled into a quiet lull, Jenny sat in the living room, allowing herself a small smile. She was proud of Reilly. Proud of his courage, proud of the trust he had begun to place in her, and most of all, proud that she had been able to help him feel even just a little bit better about himself. In that moment, Jenny knew that this wasn’t just a job—it was something deeper, something more personal. And she was ready to walk this path with Reilly, step by step, day by day, always with kindness and care. For now, she would let him rest, knowing that when he woke up, she would be right there—just like she had promised. ____________ For the next chapter and early releases, subscribe to my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1509452

Chapter 4: Reilly Meets Jenny Reilly was in his bedroom, nervously fiddling with his game controller, while downstairs, his mom was in the middle of an important conversation. His stomach twisted slightly with nerves – he knew his mom was interviewing babysitters, and the thought of having one at all embarrassed him. The thought of a someone from outside the family caring for him frightened him. “Reilly, can you come downstairs?” Mom’s voice called from the living room. Reilly hesitated for a moment before setting the controller down and slowly heading down the stairs. His mind raced with thoughts as he descended. When he stepped into the living room, he saw his mom seated on the couch, but next to her was someone he didn’t recognize – a young woman, maybe a few years older than him. She looked friendly, with light blonde hair pulled back in a casual ponytail and a warm smile that made her seem approachable. “Reilly, this is Jenny,” his mom said with a smile. “Like we talked about, before I hire a babysitter for you, you should get a chance to meet them so you can help decide." Reilly shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling awkward. His eyes flicked between his mom and Jenny. "Uh, hi," he mumbled, barely meeting her gaze. Jenny smiled warmly at him, trying to ease his nerves. “Hi, Reilly! It’s really nice to meet you.” Reilly gave a small nod, his eyes still mostly on the floor. “Hi…” he mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other. There was a brief silence before Jenny broke the ice again, her smile never wavering. “So, tell me about yourself! What kind of things do you like to do for fun?” Reilly opened his mouth, but all that came out was a quiet, “Uh, I don’t know.” He glanced down at his feet, wishing he could disappear. Meeting new people was always hard, and something about this situation made him feel even more uncomfortable than usual. Sensing his shyness, Jenny kept her tone light and friendly. “Do you like video games?” She knew boys his age were almost universally into gaming. “What’s your favorite game?” Reilly’s eyes brightened just a little at the mention of video games. “Um, I really like playing ‘Super Smash Bros.’ I’m pretty good at it,” he said, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. Jenny nodded enthusiastically. “That’s awesome! I’ve played that a few times – I’m not that great, but maybe you could show me some tips sometime?” Reilly smiled, a small but genuine expression. “Sure. I could teach you.” Mom watched the exchange with a pleased look, grateful that Jenny was already making Reilly feel comfortable. She gently encouraged the conversation to continue, stepping back a bit to give them space. Jenny leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret. “Your mom also told me that you like to read. What kind of books do you like?” Reilly shrugged, a little more relaxed now. “I like adventure books… and sometimes comics. I like it when there’s a lot of action.” Jenny nodded, listening intently. “Adventure books are the best. I love getting lost in a good story. Maybe we can read together sometime?” Reilly’s eyes met hers for the first time, and he nodded again, this time more confidently. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” Jenny smiled, feeling like they were starting to connect. “I’m looking forward to it.” Reilly shifted again, but this time it seemed more from excitement than nervousness. “Okay,” he said, his voice steadier. Jenny noticed his fidgeting and asked, “Do you like to draw? Your mom said you’re pretty creative.” Reilly’s face lit up. “Yeah, I love drawing! I’ve been working on this comic strip about a superhero dog. He saves the world from these giant robots.” Jenny’s eyes widened with interest. “That sounds so cool! I’d love to see it sometime. Maybe you could show me what you’ve done?” “Sure!” Reilly said, enthusiasm creeping into his voice. “It’s in my room. I can show you later.” Reilly thought for a moment, then said, “I also like building things, like with Legos or in Minecraft.” Jenny grinned. “I used to play with Legos all the time. Maybe we can build something together one day.” “Yeah, that’d be cool,” Reilly replied, his initial shyness now almost completely gone. She was happy to see him opening up and starting to feel more at ease. “What sorts of places do you enjoy going?” Reilly thought for a second, unsure where to start. “Well, I like going to the park. And I like drawing too, but I’m not great at it. Sometimes I go on hikes with my dad. I also like going to museums and science centers. I dunno... stuff like that.” Jenny’s face lit up even more. “That’s awesome! I love science museums. It’s so fun to mess around with all the interactive exhibits. Maybe we could go sometime?” Reilly blinked, caught a bit off guard. “Uh, yeah, maybe. I like the one in the city – they’ve got a really cool planetarium.” As the conversation continued, Reilly found himself relaxing more. Jenny’s warmth and playful approach made it easy to talk to her. He found himself asking her questions too, which she cheerfully answered. He learned that she had just finished a degree in psychology and was taking a year off to figure out her next steps. She loved hiking, much like he did, and they even talked about their favorite spots around town. Everything was going smoothly until Mom cleared her throat gently and said, “Reilly, how would you feel about Jenny being your babysitter?” Reilly’s gaze returned to the floor. “Do I really need a babysitter?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “I’m eighteen. I can take care of myself.” Jenny’s smile remained steady. “I understand how you feel, Reilly. It might seem a bit strange, but your mom and I want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you. Sometimes having someone around can be really helpful, especially if you ever need extra support or just someone to hang out with.” Reilly looked unconvinced. “But I don’t really need someone watching over me all the time. I’m fine on my own." Jenny nodded, acknowledging his point. “I get it, Reilly. It’s not about taking away your independence. It’s more about having someone to support you when you need it, kind of like having a backup plan. And sometimes, it can be nice to have a friend around to do things with.” Reilly still seemed reluctant. “But what if I don’t want someone around all the time? I’m used to doing things on my own.” Jenny leaned in a bit, trying to connect with him on a personal level. “Well, think of it this way: I’m not just here to watch you. I’m here to hang out and have fun with you too. We could play games, go to the park, or just chat. It’s not all about being watched; it’s about having someone who cares and wants to make sure you’re happy and comfortable.” Reilly hesitated, his expression softening slightly. “I guess… I do like playing video games and going to the park. And it might be nice to have someone to talk to.” Jenny smiled, sensing a breakthrough. “Exactly! And you know, if you ever need a break from things or just want some company, I’ll be right here. We can do things you enjoy together, and I’m sure we’ll have a great time.” Reilly looked up at her, his brow furrowed. “So, we’d just be... hanging out?” “Exactly,” Jenny said with a bright smile. “And if you need help with anything, I’ll be there to lend a hand. No pressure, no judgment. Just two people doing cool stuff together. Sound better?” Reilly still felt a little hesitant, but he had to admit, Jenny had a way of making it sound less scary. He glanced over at his mom, who was watching him closely but patiently. “What do you think?” Mom asked, her voice soft. Reilly swallowed hard, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He didn’t like the idea of needing help, but maybe Jenny was right. Maybe it didn’t have to feel like she was taking care of him all the time. “I guess...” he started, shifting his feet nervously. “I guess it’s not that bad. I mean... if it’s like hanging out, I think I could do that.” Mom’s expression softened into a smile. “I’m so glad to hear that, Reilly. I really think this will help you feel more comfortable.” Reilly nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced but willing to give it a try. “When does she start?” “How about right now?” Mom suggested with a small chuckle. “No time like the present. That way, you and Jenny can start getting to know each other better while I’m still here, just in case.” Reilly blinked. “Right now?” Jenny smiled, standing up from the couch. “Only if you’re up for it, Reilly. We could start slow, maybe check out your room or something? You can show me your favorite video games, or maybe some of your drawings.” Reilly hesitated for a moment, glancing at Jenny and then back at his mom. “I guess that’d be okay,” he said quietly. “Great!” Jenny clapped her hands together, the excitement in her voice genuine. “I can’t wait to see what you’re into.” Mom watched the two of them with a sense of relief, grateful that things seemed to be going well. Jenny had a gift for making people feel at ease, and she could already tell that Reilly was opening up to her. “Since we’re starting right now,” Jenny suggested cheerfully, “Can I check how your diaper is doing, just to make sure everything’s okay?” She asked it casually, her tone light and non-judgmental, not wanting to make him feel awkward. It occurred to Reilly that when friends hang out, they don’t check each other’s diapers, but then he was new to daytime diapers. It was vaguely confusing, the idea of babysitter who’s really just a friend but is also there to make sure you’re comfortable and safe and checks diapers. Reilly felt his face heat up again. He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to her. Jenny kept everything as dignified as possible, her movements gentle and professional. She pulled the waistband of his shorts down just enough to check, making sure not to embarrass him more than necessary. She felt the front of his diaper for wetness and poked a finger into the leg gather between his thighs. She turned him around and gave his butt a sniff, felt the back of his diaper, and pulled out the waistband to peek inside, all while he blushed. “You’re good,” Jenny said with a reassuring smile as she adjusted his shorts back in place. “A little wet, but nothing we need to worry about just yet.” Reilly’s face burned with embarrassment, but Jenny’s lighthearted tone made it a little easier to handle. Jenny gave him a friendly pat on the bottom. “Alright, lead the way. Let’s check out that awesome room of yours.” Reilly nodded, still feeling a little self-conscious but beginning to relax again as he led her toward the stairs. “I have some new games I think you’ll like,” he muttered. “Can’t wait,” Jenny replied cheerfully, following him up the stairs as the two of them began the next chapter of their new, unexpected friendship.