TheUnknownAuthor

I feel like maybe this interpretation is stemming from what our, the reader's, idea of what a "normal" family dynamic is. It's not necessarily that I've written a psuedo incest development, it's that when we see a daughter rise above her mother and fill her role, we infer that she's also taking on the role of wife. This is exacerbated by the hotel scene where the "grownups" are in a room together, not uncommon, and the "children" are in another room together. Hotels can have separate beds in them, as evidenced by the twins having their own beds, so the concept of father and daughter sharing a bed, which was never stated, is a leap that we the reader make when faced with the concept the story is dealing with. Here's a more blatant example of why I believe what I've written above: "The mush I'd grabbed a handful of from the bowl suction cupped to the highchair tray in front of me dripped back into the bowl as I took notice of Daddy whispering something to Lily, the blush on her face followed by the soft giggle that she tried to hide by covering her face with her free hand, the other hand holding a partially full wine glass that matched Daddy's. His arm was draped over the back of her chair as he leaned in and whispered something else to her. Lily looked across the table at me and then quickly averted her gaze, turning to whisper something to him as she set her wine glass down on the table and her hand disappeared beneath its surface. She softly chewed her lower lip as she looked down below the table and her blush intensified. "Girls, can you watch the baby for a little bit, there's something the grownups need to take care of." Daddy asked the twins. With both girls giving the affirmative, I watched as Daddy rose from his seat followed immediately by Lily as he took her hand gently in his own and led her to the stairs. Lily avoided eye contact with me the whole way save for one brief glance where our eyes met and I saw myself being led by him to our first night of intimacy, Lily's body language conveying that she was just as eager as I'd been to be with this man. The light but commanding tug on her hand from him to keep her following sent her gaze back down to the floor, and as a spoonful of mush was pressed to my lips by one of the twins, I watched them climb the stairs, knowing that I'd been replaced in every conceivable way within the household by my oldest daughter." That's very explicit in its intent, versus what we've canonically got, which can be read as incestuous or not depending on the reader. I'm not saying that anyone that reads this and sees incest is wrong or is somehow a pervert that see's what they want, I'm just saying that it's possible that too much is being inferred when a more overt way of going about things could've existed, dots are being connected that aren't there necessarily, but again, I could be wrong and welcome the discussion continuing as long as it stays respectful on both sides of the argument.

I appreciate you bringing it up as it might be something others see that I didn't when I wrote it, tunnel vision and all that. This has been a very productive and positive feedback experience and I thank you.

After rereading the part in question I can see where it can be interpreted as dad and daughter edging the mother out to pursue an incestuous relationship BUT It's also interpreted as intended, so I'll maintain my apology to help smooth over any discomfort anyone may have experienced if they read it the way you did, and I'll make sure that I'm more conscious of sensitive topics in the future to avoid something like this inadvertently happening in the future. I'm not saying I'll avoid subjects that make people uncomfortable, if I feel that something like incest or suicide has an organic reason for existing in a story I write it will be there, but those instances will be tagged to warn people they exist.

Thanks for reading, glad you enjoyed it!

Thank you, glad you like my work! It wasn't my intention to imply incest, I simply went that route to provide the mother with a living example of her being removed from her role as head of household. I'm sorry if it read a different way and if that made you uncomfortable. If it makes you feel any better, any instances of incest will be apparent and without implication should they exist in the future.

I started this journey twenty odd years ago when I wrote some truly stupid stories to satisfy my budding curiosity about diapers and ABDL in general. I've grown as a writer and come up with several things I'm very proud of, but laziness and the purge cycle of this fetish have squandered that forward momentum and now I find myself hitting the reset button on my career once again. Without the names that carry recognition and past successes, I feel freer to explore new ideas and concepts without being burdened by feelings that what I'm doing now might tarnish whatever perceived legacy I might think I had. In truth, I'm content to just be another name in the sea of creativity, able to write things that interest me as I navigate the next phase of my life. I don't really know what I want this time around, friendship seems weird as I'm not very outgoing when it comes to my personal life, I guess I'd like to write something that people enjoy and maybe see some of that old glory return, or maybe I'm just a conceited bag of dicks that needs the praise of strangers to feel accomplished. I'm weird but honest, and that probably counts for something, right?

It's a bad story? How is it bad? I mean, it's not Hemingway or anything, but I wouldn't say it's a bad story. Maybe I'm misreading your message, but I'd appreciate it if you could elaborate and help me understand what you mean.

Thanks for reading, I'm glad you liked it! The format was a little weird to write in at times, keeping a coherent timeline while also making sure tenses were used properly because this is all basically a flashback was funky in spots, but I liked the concept and wanted to make it work so people could clearly understand what was going on without it becoming a muddled mess. Thank you so much for the compliment, that's so awesome!

So, I've tried dark and trippy I've tried science fictiony reality warping And I've tried whatever the hell this is I've reached the point where I'm just doing a shameless, totally unrealistic fap fantasy because why not. Let me know what you think! Tick. Tock. By: The Unknown Author Tick I’m fairly certain the clock is mocking me. Tock Its expressionless face watches intently, withholding the sound I want, or need, rather, to hear. Tick With my back to the clock, seated on the tiny stool in the corner, the “Naughty Stool” was its name, and it was a bitch to sit on for more than a minute, let alone the hour I had been sentenced. Tock Punishing as it was, it served its purpose, all I could do was sit here and think about what had put me here. Tick I remembered watching my kids on this very stool as they grew up, feeling pride in my abilities as a parent that they were being taught a lesson, that my punishment would correct their behavior and ensure they’d grow into well adjusted and responsible adults. Tock Four children had sat on this stool before me. My oldest now off at college, the twins blossoming into lovely young women looking forward to the end of their time in high school next month, and my youngest, the one we’d accidentally made after too much wine and celebration at my husband’s birthday party would be a teenager sooner than I cared to believe. Tick Four daughters worth of parenting under my belt and here I sit at the bottom of the totem pole, my role as responsible adult a distant memory. Tock I didn’t have to wonder about where I’d gone wrong, that was obvious, but I did wonder why I’d put up so little resistance to all of this, was being submissive to my husband sexually so deeply ingrained in me that it overrode my very personality? Tick When we’d met in college he was up front and open about his kinks and desires, making me aware of his fondness for submissiveness from his female companions. I’d listened to him and blushingly confessed my own desires to be treated like a little girl, to be loved and cared for in gentle and compassionate ways but also to be stripped of my adulthood and made to be less than what I actually was in the bedroom. Tock The first time he played Daddy in bed I cried as he held me and stroked my hair. Not having a pacifier to quiet me, he gently inserted my thumb into my mouth, when the sight of me sucking my thumb for him brought the blood to his manhood, that replaced my thumb and my first experience giving head became the foundation for our sexual relationship. Tick After college we got married and moved into our house, a whole place just for us that we could let our imaginations run wild in when our lust bloomed, which it did quite often. The first night in our new home, he gave me a bath and carried me to the bedroom wrapped up in a towel, an adorable Barbie towel he’d bought for me the previous Summer. That was the night he’d introduced diapers into our play time, drying me off lovingly and putting my hair into pigtails before laying me down and asking me if I was interested in trying something new. Tock The “diaper” he put on me wasn’t exciting in the least, it was thin and bland, designed for discretion and functionality more than anything else. Having spent my teenage years babysitting, I knew that this ugly thing I’d let him pull up my legs wasn’t a diaper any more than I was a baby for agreeing to wear it, which made the whole thing kind of a letdown for me if I’m being honest. I wanted to feel little, to feel like my Daddy was taking care of me and doing the responsible thing and putting me back in diapers because I was too little to be trusted not to have accidents, but all I felt was silly and awkward. Tick That first time wasn’t great. I’d slipped into my role of baby just as he’d done with his role of Daddy, but when I wet the diaper while he held and rocked me, it had leaked all over both of us and destroyed what little magic was attained that night. Taking the initiative, I set to work ordering real diapers for myself as well as a few cute outfits to add flavor to the fantasy, surprising him a few weeks later when he came home to find me in our bedroom on the floor in my new, very cute and very thick diapers and a little play dress that barely reached the top of said diapers. Tock That was the night we made Lily, our oldest. He was so surprised and pleased with my purchases that his pants nearly split trying to contain his massive erection. When the time came to change my wet diaper he took me and we shared in what can only be described as the single most passionate and satisfying sex either of us had ever had, and we went to sleep that night with me in a fresh diaper cuddled up in his embrace as I contentedly suckled my new pacifier. Tick When I found out I was pregnant I was terrified to tell him, sure that he would be against having a baby that would put an end to our play, or maybe that was my fear and I just didn’t want to admit it, either way, when I told him he was elated and we began the task of preparing for our new bundle of joy. When we started the nursery we made a game of having me play baby to test everything out as we got it set up, diaper changes on the changing table, toys to play with on the floor, he even put me in the crib a few times to look down on me and smile as he reassured me that he could have two babies and not let either one feel more or less loved by their Daddy. As I got bigger, my time as baby came less and less often, and I would sit in the nursery and look at the wall where he’d painted “Alexis’s Nursery” on the wall for me to give me a feeling that all of this was really for me, and I’d cry, but never tell him that I’d done it. Tock When Lily came it was the happiest day of both our lives, our family grew and our bond as husband and wife strengthened as we gained the titles of mother and father. He started out trying to keep things between us the way they had been, changing me the same time he changed Lily, feeding me a bottle as Lily nursed from my breasts, but it didn’t have the same feel as before. Sure, having my diaper changed alongside my infant daughter flipped my switches, but I felt guilty for wanting to be a baby when I was required to be a responsible mother, and my interest in being a baby for him diminished until it faded entirely by the time we were preparing for Lily’s first birthday. Tick As Lily grew up and became more independent, both mine and Daddy’s desires built back up, our former playtime resuming when Lily started preschool. He drove when we dropped Lily off that first day, and when we got back to the car he gently but firmly insisted I sit in the carseat like a good girl or else Daddy would have to punish his baby girl. When he talked to me that way it always made my nipples stiffen and my panties damp, my desire to drop to my knees and suck him off in the parking lot where any soccer mom could see filled my mind as I obeyed and squeezed myself into the carseat, pouting at the fact that I couldn’t properly sit in it, the three point harness locked between my thighs pressing against my sex as I thought of all the things Daddy was going to do to me when we got back home. Tock He surprised me with the reveal that he’d turned his office into a little nursery space for me, cleaning everything up and making it a private space for me to play and enjoy the things that Lily had outgrown as well as a crib and changing table of my very own. I blushed when he saw it for the first time, the knowledge that my little side was more of a baby than our preschool aged daughter drove me wild, a fact I made him aware of four times that afternoon in various positions all over my nursery. Tick Lily caught me when she was six, the nursery door left unlocked one weekend afternoon while she was supposed to be napping, the time when I would slip into my nursery and play with my toys in my diapers and baby clothes to recharge my batteries until Daddy got home and properly satisfied me once Lily was down for the night. I will tell you this, I was thankful for the diaper I had on, because being in my safe and quiet nursery, engrossed in playing quietly on the floor in a diaper and t-shirt with my hair done up in pigtails and pacifier in my mouth only for my ninja silent daughter to suddenly appear behind me and giggle before declaring that I was a baby made me actually piss myself in shock. Tock We sat Lily down and Daddy explained that I was just playing house, like she used to play, but since I had no one to play with because Daddy was at work, I was just playing baby alone. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed at having to sit there listening to him explain to our daughter that I was playing baby, and then sit on the bed later that night and listen to him lecture me about not locking the nursery door when I was playing and also playing without his supervision. She never made mention of it, but I’m sure she must have heard me being spanked that night. Tick When the twins were born I slipped further into the role of baby, the birth of two babies weakening my bladder muscles to the point that some form of protection was required at all times to guard against the leaks I experienced when laughing or sneezing or even just having a sudden accident without warning. Lily was a tremendous help with Hannah and Grace, stepping in to change diapers and feed one of the babies while I or Daddy handled the other. Lily had never brought up my playing baby since she stumbled upon me that one and only time, but she casually suggested I go play while she took care of the babies one afternoon, and we both knew what she meant. Daddy agreed that Lily was right and would be more than capable of watching her sisters for a little bit while I went and played, and the shame of being told by my eight year old daughter to go play baby, reinforced by Daddy’s agreement, as well as my noticing that my daytime protection was in need of changing was too much humiliation for me to handle and I scurried off to my nursery several shades of red darker. Tock As the girls got older, Lily took more of a maternal role around the house, caring for her sisters and surprising us by making dinners and preparing lunches, and my feelings of being a less than effective parent began to rise. Daddy would tease me by saying that I could let Lily step into the role of Mommy and focus on being his baby in a more permanent capacity. I knew he was joking, but it still stung, and my emotions boiled over one day when Lily took the initiative to get the twins down for their nap without involving me in her decision and I sent her to the very stool I found myself on now. When Daddy came home he was very unhappy with me, and made me apologize to Lily as if I were her peer rather than her guardian. When I refused, he arranged for the girls to stay the night with my mother and put me in my proper place with a series of spankings and a night in a messy diaper. Tick By the time the twins were in school, the dynamic of our family unit had already begun to shift into what it is today. Lily was the responsible, maternal young lady of the house, balancing her school and social life while also taking care of things around the house, her sisters looking up to her and obeying her commands more often than they did my own. I’d regularly send them to the naughty stool for disobeying me, only to have Lily undermine my authority the instant she discovered them in the corner. When I reminded her that I was her mother and that she needed to obey me, she smirked at me knowingly and mused that I must need a nap because of how cranky I was acting. The one and only time I ever spanked our children happened that day, though it wasn’t nearly as effective as I’d imagined it would be given my lack of experience as a disciplinarian. Lily didn’t cry or beg me to stop, she merely let me do what I set out to do and asked me if I was finished and if I felt better as she got off my lap and pulled her pants back up. Tock I hid in my nursery until Daddy came home, knowing he would side with Lily and show me what a real spanking looked like, I just prayed he wouldn’t do it in front of the girls and remove whatever sense of authority I still felt I had in the house. When he came home I heard Lily telling him what I’d done, the whole thing sounding like a babysitter explaining to a returning parent that their brat of a child had misbehaved and needed to be dealt with properly. I wished I’d gone to our bedroom instead of the nursery, being surrounded by the trappings of my secret life made me feel safe and secure but also cast a harsh light on what I truly was at heart, a big baby in need of Daddy’s firm hand. Tick He never came into the nursery that night, he talked with Lily for a long while, the smell of her cooking coming in to where I sat in my sodden diaper making my stomach growl with hunger. I texted him to ask him if he was mad at me, and he didn’t respond. I changed myself into a dry diaper and grabbed a bottle of juice and a jar of baby food from the small fridge we’d placed in the nursery and fed myself and got myself ready for bed, sullenly sucking my pacifier as I lay in my crib listening to Daddy and the girls laughing and watching television. When the house was finally quiet, the girls tucked in for the night and him in our bedroom, I texted him again to ask if he was mad at me, and he replied with four simple words that shattered my world, “Go to sleep, baby.”. Tock Lily’s smiling face greeted me as I woke up the next morning in my crib, my overnight diaper swollen and discolored from my shameful bed wetting habit that had only gotten worse over the years. I scrambled to cover myself, demanding to know how she’d gotten in, knowing I’d locked the door when I’d come in there the day before. She held up a small key, a mirror to the one that I had, the one that was still on the small table by the door, and I knew before she even said it that Daddy had given it to her. She told me that Daddy had asked her to check on me because he’d been called away on business for the week and needed to leave first thing in the morning. I felt betrayed and belittled and abandoned in addition to hopelessly humiliated as my daughter lowered the side of my crib and commented on how wet my diaper was after giving the swollen core of it a few teasing prods. Tick Having your teenage daughter, at the behest of your husband, enter your safe space, your fortress of fetish solitude and establish herself as an authority figure akin to a babysitter is emotionally devastating to say the least. Reeling from everything that was happening and struggling to deal with my emotions, I cried as she stood there watching me. I didn’t cry like I’d had a bad day at work or like I’d hurt myself, I bawled like the overgrown infant I was dressed as, the kind of ugly crying that taps into a primal place within that is raw emotion devoid of thought and concern for anyone that may be present’s perception of you. I had an emotional meltdown in front of my teenage daughter, and she did what a good mother would do, she gave me my pacifier and hugged me until I calmed down. Tock Lily agreed to let me change myself and left me to do so, reminding me to get dressed before I came downstairs for breakfast. The insinuation that I would somehow forget to get dressed or worse that I was too much of a baby to do so without a reminder brought fresh tears of shame, but I did as I was told and joined my daughters in the kitchen for breakfast. Hannah and Grace giggled at my pigtails when I entered the kitchen, making me wonder whether they also knew what was going on or if they were just giggling because I had pigtails. Lily shook her head and smirked as if she knew I’d mess up the simple task she’d given me and calmly told her sisters to quiet down, which they immediately did. Sitting there at the breakfast table watching Lily bustle around the kitchen as she expertly prepared breakfast made me feel so small and inadequate as the twins whispered and giggled across from me, making me paranoid that I’d forgotten something else that I wasn’t aware of yet. Tick As Hannah and Grace ate their breakfast, I sat staring at my own plate and then at Lily as she took a bite of her eggs and smiled at me, urging me to eat before it got cold. I blushed as I realized I’d been marveling at how much of a woman she was, even at fifteen, she was far more buxom than I was at her age, and dangerously close to outpacing me even at my current age. I quietly ate my breakfast, mumbling a goodbye to the twins as they dutifully cleared their plates and hurried out the door for school, my rush causing a partial mouthful of eggs to tumble from my mouth onto the table where I blushed hotly as Lily chastised me and cleaned up my mess. Tock Lily left for school a short time later, handing me a list of chores to do while she was gone. Nothing on the list was major or even difficult, but the feeling of being told to do chores by my teenage daughter made me grit my teeth and silently nod, my anger threatening to boil over when she kissed my forehead and told me to “be a good girl” while she was gone. Once the door closed behind her I was on the phone to Daddy, leaving him a very angry voicemail message when he failed to answer my call. Seven more calls were made that day, each one progressively more whiny and bratty until the final one, the one I made after finishing the last of my chores where I begged him to call me back and sobbingly apologized for everything that had happened, promising to be a good girl from then on so long as he just talked to me. Tick When Lily got home from school she made me aware that the twins were staying over at a friend’s house and she and I would have the house to ourselves. I’d calmed down since my last call to Daddy, and was actually a little relieved to have some time alone with her, hopeful that we could talk and straighten things out between us. Those hopes were dashed away when her phone began to ring and she answered it with “Hi, Daddy!”. Tock She listened to him for a moment and then accepted his video call request and set her phone down on the table so he could see both of us and we could see him, and the look on his face sent a cold chill down my spine and right into my diaper, Daddy was very angry with me and nothing he had to say to both Lily and I at once could be good for me. He explained that he’d be back home a week from then, and asked Lily to watch over things while he was gone to which she dutifully agreed. He looked to me and sighed before explaining that Lily was in charge and if he got a bad report from her when he returned I’d be in big trouble. Tick When the call with Daddy ended we sat in silence for a long while before Lily turned on the couch to face me and finally spoke to ask me how she should take care of me. I was still in such shock at the news that I’d been placed under the care of my own daughter that I sat silently, unable to even form a coherent thought. She pressed on with her line of questioning, asking about diapers and how often I needed to be changed, what my schedule was for naps and feedings, she kept on going, question after question until I finally snapped and shouted at her to shut up and leave me alone. Tock Any notion I had about there being a mistake on Daddy’s part for putting Lily in charge evaporated when she pulled me across her lap and yanked down my pants and pullup diaper to administer a spanking that rivaled the one’s Daddy gave for attitude adjusting. Within moments I was sobbing and begging her to stop, when she didn’t I flailed and thrashed futilely on her lap until she’d finished and stood me up beside her, my pants and pullup diaper around my ankles as I blubbered and bawled, the sting of her spanking radiating across my entire ass. Tick She commanded me to suck my thumb to quiet myself, and I did so without hesitation, watching as she rose to her feet and took my other hand to lead me to my nursery, my gait awkward and clumsy, not unlike a toddler, as I tried to walk with my pants and pullup around my ankles. She unlocked the door to my nursery and led me inside, guiding me to the corner where she had me face the wall as she took pictures of my red bottom which she sent on to Daddy to show him that she was well and truly in control. She held her phone up for me to see when it chirped to signal his reply, instructions for her that I was to be sent to bed immediately, and instructions for me to have Lily give me one of the punishment bottles from the fridge before bed. Tock We both obeyed Daddy that night, Lily getting me into one of my overnight diapers and my jammies, the shame of that alone enough to leave me almost catatonic, but then I had to show her where the punishment bottles were, banishing the thought of lying and taking a regular bottle instead, and nursing it sullenly as she pulled up the side of the crib and turned on the mobile and nightlight before locking me in for the night. She probably guessed what the punishment bottle would do, but I knew, and the idea of having my daughter change my messy diaper in the morning was too much for me to handle and I quickly finished the bottle and cried myself to sleep as the cramps in my stomach began to build. Tick After Daddy came back home Lily maintained her alpha status in the house, becoming more active in the raising of her sisters and ensuring that I never forgot that she could reenact the spanking she’d given me whenever she felt like it. Daddy made it clear when he came home that my behavior was completely unacceptable, and made me not only thank Lily for taking care of me, but also apologize to her for being a brat, cementing my role as her lesser for the rest of the time she lived with us. Tock Hannah and Grace picked up on the shift of power in the house pretty quickly, and went to Lily for everything they should’ve come to me for, permission slip signing, help with homework, even talking about boys went through her first and was brought to me almost as an afterthought if the whim struck Lily. My wetting started to get worse, my continence diminishing almost to the point of nonexistence requiring actual diapers during the day rather than the more discreet pullups I’d grown accustomed to. Daddy reassured me that it would be okay, that no one would make fun of me, making me sound like the baby I was gradually becoming rather than the grown woman I was. Tick When Lily got her driver’s license I lost the last vestige of independence I had. She insisted that she drive whenever we needed to go out, and if we were alone together she’d make comments about getting me a carseat as she looked at me in the rearview mirror. If the rest of the family was in the car I’d be between Hannah and Grace in the back, ignored as they chatted about things together and Lily and Daddy talked in the front seat. It was on one of these family drives that my emotions boiled over, Hannah and Grace started a game of tag and I kept asking them to stop and they ignored me and as they began to get more rapid in their attempts to tag each other I got slapped across the face by accident and launched into a tirade that seemed perfectly acceptable to me, but was deemed a tantrum by Lily and Daddy. Tock Lily had pulled the car over and Daddy had turned in his seat to look at me with his stern gaze. Lily put her hand on his shoulder and told him the time, positing that I was cranky because it was past my bedtime. Hannah and Grace giggled wildly as Lily asked one of them to grab a bottle from the diaper bag behind their seat and give it to me, which Hannah did eagerly. As the car pulled back onto the road I closed my eyes and nursed my bottle trying to block out the sounds of my younger daughters giggling and being thankful that Lily told them to stop teasing me. The combination of the drive and the bottle put me to sleep pretty quickly, and when I woke up Lily was unbuckling my seatbelt for me and pushing my pacifier into my mouth as she helped me out of the car, slinging the diaper bag over her shoulder as she closed the door and booped the alarm and took my hand to lead me into the house behind Daddy and the twins. Tick Lily insisted I say goodnight to everyone before she put me to bed, and I sleepily complied, my speech garbled by the pacifier, hugging Hannah and Grace first and then Daddy before Lily took my hand again and led me to the nursery. Slipping in and out of sleep, I vaguely remember her changing me and getting me into my jammies and then there’s a foggy memory of Daddy and the twins looking into the crib at me, but I honestly didn’t know if it was real or just a dream. The confirmation of the realness of it became apparent the following morning when Lily put on a clinic for Hannah and Grace on how to change a diaper, silencing my whines and protests with a pacifier and the threat of a spanking as she carried out the task at hand in excruciating detail, leaving me exposed and humiliated for nearly a half hour until I began to pee without warning onto the waiting diaper beneath me which Lily quickly pulled up in time to avoid a mess as I mewled helplessly and suckled my only source of peace. Tock A family meeting later that day confirmed that I was indeed the baby of the family now, seated on Lily’s lap in a pastel purple babydoll dress that Hannah and Grace had picked out for me, my normal daytime diaper replaced with one of the thicker and more infantile patterned overnight diapers, almost totally on display beneath the short hem of the dress, the sounds of my diaper crinkling as Lily softly bounced me while I suckled my pacifier listening as Daddy asked who the head of the house was, to which everyone answered that he was. He then asked who the second in command was, to which Hannah and Grace immediately answered Lily while I simply pointed at myself causing everyone to have a good chuckle and for Lily to kiss the top of my head. Finally, Daddy asked who the least powerful person in the house was, which brought a unanimous chorus of my name from my daughters. Tick By the time the party that conceived our fourth daughter came around I wasn’t sure that Daddy and I were still married or if I’d just dreamed that life. My routine at that point consisted of little more than feedings, diaper changes, playtime, baths, naps and bedtime, most carried out by Lily or Daddy, but the twins occasionally handled one or more of those things when “the grownups” were busy. My need to wear diapers at that point kept Daddy from having actual sex with me, opting instead to bring me to climax in my diaper with rubbing or allowing me to hump his thigh as I sat on his lap. He’d let me blow him, of course, but it was turned into less of a sex thing and more of a power thing with him instructing me on how I should suck his cock like I was too simple to do something with a dick that I spent most of the day doing with a pacifier or bottle at that point. Tock The party was a demonstration on how far I’d fallen from the role of an adult, the small amount of wine I’d been allowed to have made me so drunk that I ditched my shoes at some point and stumbled into the kitchen where I squatted down and filled my diaper before continuing to stumble around sucking my thumb and calling out “Mommy” as I looked for Lily to change me. Hannah had recorded the event on her phone for posterity, and Lily apologized to our guests as she led me off to the nursery for a much needed diaper change and an early bedtime. I woke up some time later to Daddy thrusting himself into me, finishing just as I started to wake up and clear my head enough to try and be sexy for him only for him fix my diaper and put my pacifier back into my mouth before he left the room. Tick Daddy had gotten a stroller custom made for me the Summer before, as well as a proper carseat which sat directly between Hannah and Grace’s spots in the backseat making family outings much more degrading for me. With the twins growing like weeds, I was now the smallest person in the family by at least a full foot and found that Lily was now able to carry me without much trouble for short distances like to and from the car. The notion that I had ever been the mother of these girls began to fade a little bit every day, slips of calling Lily “Mommy” becoming more and more common, first when I was overly tired, but gradually happening more and more during my waking hours. I started to see the twins as my big sisters, thanking them without prompting from Lily or Daddy when they played with me or gave me a bottle or pacifier. Over time I stopped being ashamed of the fact that the outfits Lily picked out for me often allowed my diapers to peek out beneath hems of dresses or bulge considerably beneath shortalls, the snaps at the crotch straining to contain what regularly became overnight diapers given my total lack of bladder control at that point. I was a baby, and my family loved and cared for me, and so long as I had a clean and dry diaper and a full tummy, I was happy. Tock I was about five months pregnant when Daddy and Lily announced that we’d be taking a trip to Disney World as a last family togetherness thing before the baby came and Lily graduated and went away to college. Still in my pajamas, I sleepily clung to Lily as she carried me out to the car and buckled me into my carseat before swapping my pacifier for a bottle of warm milk to lull me back to sleep, working like a charm as my eyes drooped and sleep overtook me before the car was even finished being loaded. I woke up some time later and giggled as everyone greeted me, Hannah giving me a bottle of juice which she held for me as she softly stroked my hair. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep or how far we’d driven, and I didn’t really need to know, Daddy knew what he was doing and would get us to Disney World before I knew it. Tick At the next rest area we stopped for everyone to stretch their legs and for Lily to get me changed out of my pajamas and soaked diaper and into something appropriate for the day. She talked to me as she undressed me, not expecting me to talk back, and made quick work of changing my diaper on the backseat before pulling a shirt over my head and guiding my arms into the proper holes. She asked me if I knew what my shirt said, and my upside down reading skills being woefully underused, I stared at the words and shook my head before she traced her finger over each word as she read them to me, “Mommy’s Little Princess” she said before kissing the tip of my nose and picking me up. My mind worked to try and untangle the mess of jumbled timelines and perceptions of reality that had been confusing me, the memories of being Lily’s mother being pushed to the dark corners of forgetfulness and replaced with memories of her taking care of me and being every bit the Mommy that my shirt identified her as. I hugged her and gurgled something incoherent through my pacifier, my mind wanting her to be aware that I loved her and was grateful to have such a loving Mommy, all I accomplished was a hug back and a soft pat on my exposed diapered bottom before she put me back into my carseat. Tock The trip to Disney World severed the remaining beliefs I had about my former life, memories of marrying Daddy and giving birth to the girls became a lovely story I could be told as I drifted off to sleep in my crib, my daily reality was inescapable and no one expected me to be anything more than the baby of the family, and the routine of being treated as a baby made any fight I could’ve had at that point evaporate entirely. I unconsciously fell backward to my simplest and most infantile state after that rest stop diaper change, and by the time we got to the park and I was wheeled around in my stroller I was nothing more than another baby to the rest of the family, and a mentally deficient pregnant woman to whomever might’ve cared to give me a second glance. Everyone made a point to get my attention when silly or amazing things came into view, and I was happy and loved and nothing else mattered to me beyond that. Tick We got two rooms at the young child oriented hotel, one for the twins and I, and one for Mommy and Daddy. The twins called their beds as we entered our room, and Mommy bounced me in her arms as she pointed out the crib that had been set up for me as she got me changed and ready for my afternoon nap. She talked to the twins as she got me ready, giving them instructions for where my supplies were and what to do in case of various things, reminding them that she and Daddy were in the next room and wouldn’t tolerate any shenanigans just because they had their own room. Both girls gave her a very polite “yes ma’am” to which she nodded approvingly before putting me down into the crib for a nap. Tock Grace woke me up later that afternoon and helped me out of the crib and into the bathroom where she bathed me while Hannah got my outfit together for our trip back to the park. Between the two of them, they took excellent care of me and surprised Mommy and Daddy by dressing me in my Tinkerbell sundress, my hair in little pigtails and my pacifier clipped to the front of my dress. Mommy and Daddy fawned over how adorable I was and praised the girls for being so helpful and responsible while Daddy hoisted me up into his arms and carried me through the hotel and down to the car. Tick After we got back home, Daddy took me to his room and sat down with me on his lap and asked me if I was happy. I’d just woken up from the car ride home, so I was less inclined to be anything but my most little and simply nodded as I sucked my pacifier. He asked me if I’d decided to stay a baby permanently, and the question confused me because I hadn’t considered the possibility that there was an out for me in this scenario, I just assumed that I’d become the baby of the family and nothing could change that at this point. I started to think about it and became distracted by a rumble in my tummy, pushing it out into my diaper without a second thought, my concentration on the act causing me to forget what he’d asked me, but after a long moment of me staring at him blankly he smiled and hugged me and told me that he’d always take care of me no matter what. I hugged him back and giggled as he gave my lumpy seat a pat and carried me to my nursery for a much needed diaper change. Tock By the time Zoe was born I’d undergone my final transformations into my second infancy, the constant use of bottles and pacifiers had damaged my teeth to the point that it was decided I’d have them all pulled, replacing them with dentures if I needed teeth for whatever reason but leaving me with the mouth of a newborn otherwise. My lack of mobility, crawling or scooting when moving on my own and being carried by Mommy or Daddy otherwise had left my legs weakened to the point that if I did walk on my own it was through holding onto furniture or someone’s hand, otherwise I’d simply crawl or be carried. The birth was terrifying as I had no clue what was happening to me, all I knew was that I was in tremendous pain and Daddy just kept encouraging me to push. My own wails of pain and confusion mirrored Zoe’s almost perfectly as they took her to be cleaned up and Daddy kissed my forehead and left me sucking my thumb as he went to take the baby from the nurses and stood there at the other end of the room with Mommy fawning over the new baby of the family. Tick If time is cyclical, I entered my terrible two’s for the second time in my life after Zoe was born. I wasn’t the baby anymore, and everyone gushed over Zoe every time she did anything. I started acting up to get attention, coloring on the walls, making messes by putting my hands in my diaper, throwing tantrums any and everywhere I could, the usual brat behavior that one sees in a jealous sibling when a new baby arrives. I spent most of my days on the naughty stool for one reason or another, my bottom a nearly constant pink to red from all the spankings I earned, not just from Mommy or Daddy anymore, but from Hannah and Grace as well. Tock When Mommy left for college I was inconsolable for days, feeling abandoned as Hannah and Grace took over the parental role she’d left behind and failed to match her level of maternal love and care in every way possible, much to my dismay. It wasn’t their fault, they were just built differently than Mommy, they were great over an afternoon or evening when Mommy and Daddy weren’t home, but long term they just didn’t have the passion for caring for not one but two babies, and finally Daddy stepped in and got me set up for regular appointments with a therapist to work through my mental regression and build me back up into the woman he’d married. Tick Seven years of weekly visits to the therapist brought me back to a healthy balance once again. I wore my dentures everyday, helped out around the house when and where I could, and portioned my little time out with Daddy for alternating weekends to maintain a routine that was comfortable and manageable for all of us. The incontinence remained, though I could mostly avoid messy accidents if I was able to get to a bathroom within ten or so minutes of the first feelings of a bowel movement arising. The therapy sessions helped our marriage as well, bringing my long dormant sexuality back to the table when I eventually moved out of the nursery and back into the master bedroom with Daddy who had gotten a vasectomy shortly after Zoe was born to ensure no further surprises came our way. Tock You’re probably wondering why I’m on the naughty stool today if I’d bounced back to my normal status in the house, well that’s kind of a funny story. See, the girls were out with Daddy buying supplies for Lily’s visit with her husband and our new grandson, and I decided I’d rather not go to the store with them and instead indulged in my nostalgia a little bit, thinking back fondly to that day at the rest stop when Lily confirmed that she thought of herself as my Mommy just as much as I thought of her that way. I changed into one of my overnight diapers and fixed myself a bottle of juice and plopped down on the living room floor for some cartoons. Not five minutes after I consciously messed my diaper and giggled as I sat back down, the lock turned and the front door opened and Daddy and the girls stood staring at me. If life were a television show that would’ve been the moment where Daddy looked at the camera and said something like “Not again!” and the canned laughter would play as we all froze in place. See, funny story. Tick Lily was due to arrive when the clock chimed, which coincided with my punishment being done, and the stink of my diaper made the time crawl by slow enough for me to relive my entire adult life up to that point as I stared at what remained of the tiny thing I’d written in crayon one day when I was on this very stool for throwing a tantrum at having to wait my turn for bath time because baby Zoe was going first. It was a simple backwards letter C, but I knew it had been part of “Daddy is a poop” and it made me smile as the clock tocked one final time before the sweet sound of freedom rang out. Bong Bong Bong Lily arrived as I was scurrying upstairs to change, and she followed me up, giving my droopy diaper a few playful swats as we climbed. She fell right back into her role as Mommy and set to changing my diaper as we made small talk. When I was in a fresh diaper she sat me up and hugged me and I hugged her back, feeling so warm and happy to have her back home even if it was just for the weekend. She rubbed my back softly and pulled me from her before kissing my forehead. “I know you’re not a baby anymore,” she said softly as she undid the ties that held my hair in pigtails and redid my hair into a more appropriate loose ponytail, “but, I was thinking that it might be nice if you let me get you ready for bed tonight.” she told me. I blushed. “I’d like that.” I told her, smiling up at her lovingly. She picked me up and hugged me again, patting my crinkly bottom softly. “You can nurse from Mommy before bed if you like, baby.”. she whispered into my ear. A pleasant tingle ran through my body and brought me back to that day at the rest stop as I nodded. “I love you, Mommy.” I whispered. Our hug tightened before she set me down on my feet and booped my nose. “Mommy loves you too, baby.” she said before she left me to get dressed, an ear to ear smile on my face at the thought of the special bedtime treat that awaited me. The End

If you've ever seen Elfen Lied, I imagine something like that. If you haven't seen Elfen Lied, it would probably be very bad for the random person. Yay! Glad to hear it!

I know it's going to seem like I'm answering your question with a question, but hear me out, what if the entire dynamic of Mommy being that for Jasmine is by Jasmine's design? What if she's ensured that no one gives things a second look because Mommy is in some position of power at the facility and says that everything is a-okay because hypnosis and inhibitors are being used? Also, I never said whether or not Mommy was Mommy willingly or because of Jasmine...poor writing or intentional decision? You decide! If I were a supremely powerful being capable of altering reality and also wanted to just live a fetish fantasy I'd think that giving people the illusion of power, the feeling of safety that I was docile and under control would probably hit a few switches in the old diaper area. As far as an actual answer to your question, why would you turn your Mommy into a baby if you clearly wanted that role to be filled? You can obviously have any Mommy or Daddy or playmate you want at any time, but at this moment in time, where we meet Jasmine and learn a bit about her powers, she has a Mommy and is content with that dynamic.

I've never written something like this, so if it's not good let me know what I can do to improve, please. Thank you in advance for reading. Change The Station By: The Unknown Author Ding dong. The electronic chime of the train arrival notification system came over the PA system outside, the message that followed drown out by the sound of the running sink I was hunched over after splashing my face with water. Looking up into the mirror with a sigh, my eyes half open to keep the headache at bay, I shut off the water and turned to grab some paper towels to dry my face, lurching forward on shaky legs and bracing myself on the wall near the hand dryer. “You can do this.” I told myself, not that I actually believed it. The truth was, I wasn’t sure I’d make it out of the bathroom, let alone down to the platform and onto a train before I dropped dead from whatever was causing the headaches I’d been having. Grabbing a wad of paper towels, I pressed them to my face and threw them in the trash before grabbing the handle of the bathroom door and entering the bustling station. People looked at me nervously as I passed them, not a great sign. My headache flared up angrily, stabbing the soft mass behind my eyes and stopping me in my tracks, looking around as the world spun in my vision. I focused on a bench, hoping the attention to a specific point would stabilize my equilibrium. The bench had five people seated on it, two men, two women, and a small child no older than five, the worn lightly colored wood seemed too old looking for the relatively modern station it resided in, a throwback to a bygone era of steam engines and horse drawn carriages by the looks of it. I blinked hard and gasped as the bench warped and shifted as I opened my eyes, the old wood replaced with metal and leather, the kind of seating you’d see at an airport. The people still sat there, unfazed by the change in their seating. I blinked again and the bench was still changed and I moved to it to touch it, feeling the cold steel and stiff material of the seats, the stares of the occupants causing me to withdraw my hand quickly. I took a seat on the bench opposite the newer one, the wood beneath me creaking in protest as I sat back and took a deep breath. My eyes met the man on the far left of the new bench, he was looking up from his book, a dry and boring spy novel by the look of the cover, and I forced a weak smile his way to keep him from worrying about what a freak I must look like. I thought that if he had a more engaging book he might not be so nosy, like the little boy with his popup book further down the bench. Laughter brought my attention back to the book man, now grinning from ear to ear as he looked at the popup book on his lap, the cutout of an animal character in the book moving back and forth as he pulled the flap at the bottom of the page and giggled as the character shifted to and fro in a sort of dance for him. Again, no one seemed the slightest bit concerned by this change of scenery. Was I doing this or was I just hallucinating? I needed to test it, to prove that it was real, so I got up and made my way over to the man with the popup book. “Whatchya readin’?” I asked him as casually as I could manage. He looked up at me and then back to his book, the dancing bear he’d been so entertained by now motionless. “It’s a book about fairy tales.” he told me, his tone annoyed with being distracted from his fun. “Can I see it?” I asked as I reached out to touch the book, to feel whether it was real or not. He snatched it away from me before I could. “No!” he shouted. “It’s mine!” he added snottily. I sighed, his yelling causing my headache to flare up again. “I just want to see it for a second.” I told him. “Get your own, lady!” he snapped. I felt my anger build and snatched the book from him, bringing an immediate response of childish shrieking from the man that was twenty years my senior. My headache grew with each second of the sound assaulting my ears and I glared at him as I gritted my teeth and looked at the book in my hands, the feel of it exactly what one would expect from a popup book. I realized as I turned the book over in my hands that his noise had ceased abruptly, and I looked up from the book to see him sitting there sucking on a pacifier, crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks as he made grabby hands toward his book and whimpered softly. I dropped the book and stared at him in amazement and terror, watching as he slipped off the bench to retrieve his book and sat with it on the floor as he clumsily opened it back up and played with it. “What the fuck is going on?” I wondered as I wandered away, looking back at him several times as I did. “I can change reality.” I thought, a pleasant tingle of empowerment running up my spine, bringing me to a stop and turning me back around to look at him once again, my mind focusing on him. His long sleeved collared shirt and khakis shifted on his body, the legs of the pants receding up his legs as the sleeves of his shirt shortened and the collar snaked away from the shirt and up to the pacifier ring to make a tether clipped to his new shirt, a baby blue onesie that had merged with the former khakis to stretch over the bulk of the diaper he now wore. His shoes softened into baby blue booties and the popup book dissolved in his hands and became a plush baby block. I giggled mischievously, and looked to the man and the woman that had been sitting next to him on the bench. Her purse changed into a diaper bag at my urging, her breasts swelling beneath her tanktop as I filled them with milk for her new baby. The man had no outward change, but I made him aware that his baby needed his mother, and watched as he stood up and went to the grown baby man and effortlessly picked him up from the ground despite the size difference of the two, the baby in question outweighing his new daddy by a hundred or more pounds. The new mommy took the man just as easily and positioned him on her lap as she she lifted her shirt and opened the front flap of her nursing bra and removed his pacifier before placing her engorged nipple to his lips which he greedily latched onto. I burst out laughing as the scene played out in front of me, the woman that was probably just out of college if she wasn’t still enrolled in it cradling a man that could’ve been her father as he nursed from her and she patted his thickly diapered bottom through his onesie, all while no one payed any attention to the events. My headache faded and I was able to stand upright again, feeling an immense wave of power wash over me. I looked up at the clock and smiled, only a few more minutes until my train arrived, enough time to have some more fun with whatever this thing I had was. Hurrying back to the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror and focused on myself, the sickly, sweaty look I’d been sporting given my awful health needed to change immediately. I focused on my hair, shortening the shoulder length, curly mass into something more manageable and cute, the curls straightening and changing color until I had a silver bob cut that looked fantastic against my mahogany skin. My hoodie and jeans shifted and melded together, their colors brightening into a sunflower printed dress in a lime green, strapless to show off my shoulders. My worn tennis shoes became sandals with a daisy on the top strap of each shoe. “I am goddamned stunning!” I thought to myself as I gave a giddy twirl in front of the mirror before making my way back out into the main station. The barista at the nearby coffee shop gave me a coffee and bagel free of charge because she thought I was so pretty and made her way around the counter at my insistence to give me a kiss and put her number into my phone. “You can call me any time, day or night!” she eagerly offered, desperate to please me and prove devotion to me. I put my phone into my handbag and smiled at her. “Sophie, was it?” I asked, ignoring her name tag. The blonde nodded vigorously, a huge smile plastered on her face. “Yes, ma’am, but you can call me anything you like!” she offered. It wasn’t her fault she was being so pathetically needy, I was exerting that trait on her, pushing her as I explored my newfound abilities. “What about bitch?” I asked coyly. “Would you appreciate me calling you bitch?” I added. Without hesitation she nodded once more. “Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am!” she said with a little curtsy that I thought I’d like to see her perform. “Take off your clothes, bitch.” I whispered softly into her ear. In a flash she was stripping for me, slowing down to make it sexier for me as each piece of clothing left her body and gathered in a small pile on the floor at my feet, an offering to her new goddess. I looked her up and down slowly, marveling at how underdeveloped she truly was once her padded bra was removed. “How old are you, bitch?” I asked her. “Twenty five, ma’am.” she responded obediently. I smiled at her. “You’re sure it’s not two or five?” I asked as I traced a fingernail over her puffy pink nipple, delighting in her soft shudder of pleasure. She shook her head. “No, ma’am!” she answered quickly before my will brought a look of uncertainty to her face. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked softly, my tone dripping with feigned concern. She shook her head to try and sort her thoughts, memories of her adulthood tumbling out of her head with the jostling. “Five is a big girl number!” she chirped proudly. I chuckled and nodded. “It is, isn’t it?” I said. “Much too big for you, right?” I asked. Her eyes lost the luster of decades of knowledge, reverting to a more wide and innocent state as she stuck her thumb into her mouth and giggled as she nodded and looked at me adoringly. With a push of my will, her clothes slithered up from the floor, climbing her legs like snakes up a tree, morphing into something more appropriate for her new mindset. The cluster of adult clothing became a thick cloth diaper and lavender plastic pants and a belly shirt the same color with white lace on the hem and sleeves. Her hair worked itself into a pair of pigtails and her name plate formed into a pacifier and leapt into her mouth as she removed her thumb. She wobbled unsteadily and reached out for me, giggling again as I held out my arms and steadied her, helping her down to the floor where she sat on her bottom with legs splayed out in front of her suckling intently on her pacifier. “Can you say, ‘thank you, Mommy’?” I asked her as I looked down with a pleased grin. She burbled a bit of drool coated nonsense at me and wiggled where she sat as I patted the top of her head. I strolled down the walkway of the train station making little changes here and there for my amusement, a Karen complaining about her ticket to a young man at the customer service counter devolved into a little yipping dog inside of a carrier bound for somewhere she couldn’t bother anyone. A particularly crabby looking man at the bar joined his kids at the claw machine, finding that his new older brother and sister had nothing but teases and taunts for the little boy that cried for his mother as he wet his pants. Taking a seat on a newly appeared luxuriously comfortable chair amid the benches in the waiting area, I twisted my panties beneath my dress into a diaper similar to the one the book man had been wearing, just to see what it felt like, giggling softly as I rose slightly on the bench as the bulk swelled beneath me. Lifting my dress to look at my new undergarment brought a smile to my face as the colorful cartoon characters of my youth adorned the plastic shell. I relaxed my bladder and gasped as the sensation of my warm liquid swirling around inside my diaper before being absorbed brought a whole new level of arousal to my consciousness. The woman across from me smiled at me when she saw me looking at my diaper and I smiled back and urged her to come to me, which she did, leaving her husband to crawl to me and kneel in front of me obediently. “Are you a good girl?” I asked her. She nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.” she said without hesitation. I spread my legs and lifted my dress, my diaper dissolving away to show her my hairless sex. “Show me.” I told her. As the stranger began to lick me lovingly, I turned my attention to her husband, bringing him crawling over to me as well, his burly, masculine form melting away as he got closer until he was a buxom young woman, the years falling off of him until he was barely legal. As he climbed onto the bench and sidled up beside me his clothes changed from the stuffy business attire to a babydoll tee and a skirt so short I could see his puffy pink lips glistening beneath. I filled my breasts with milk as I’d done with the woman earlier and pulled the lusty little thing to them and gasped as she latched on and began to nurse, the combination of ministrations above and below bringing me over the edge and grabbed his wife by the back of her head and forced her against me as I came harder than I ever had before. I lazily looked down at his wife, face slick with my love and softly stroked her hair. “Good girl, that made Mommy very happy.” I praised, smiling as she giggled and climbed up onto the bench to latch onto my other breast, feeding beside her new sister. When my girls had filled their bellies I returned my breasts to normal and had them stand up in front of me and gave them matching dresses, the kind of frilly thing a toddler would wear to Easter service at church and made sure their new diapers shown beneath the bottom of the dresses before I sent them off to play with their dolls. “Jasmine Perkins?” a man’s voice came from behind me. Turning at the sound of my name I saw a tall man in a suit holding up his badge, a shimmering black disk with a pentagram on the face of it. “Who are you? How do you know my name?” I asked as I took a cautious step backward. “You already know the answers to those questions, Jasmine.” He said as he walked around the bench and put his badge away as he made his way to me. “You really shouldn’t have come here, you aren’t well.” he said. I scoffed. “I’m fine, man.” I told him, willing him to stop advancing toward me. “You can’t do anything to me, Jasmine, we’re immune to your power.” he told me. The headache came roaring back, making me double over in pain as I held my head with both hands. I saw two other people in suits advancing from the crowd to my right and left and backed up slowly as he got closer. “Just surrender and we can get you the help you need.” he told me calmly. The people all around me rose to their feet and swarmed him, fighting to defend me as if I were their queen, the crowds on either side of me doing the same with the others allowing me to turn and make a break for it, the world spinning in my vision as I staggered to the train platform. I heard screaming and felt a whoosh of energy behind me that almost sent me to the ground, but I managed to keep myself moving as I pushed through the doors to the platform. “Nowhere to run, Jasmine!” the man called out from somewhere behind me. “No train’s coming for you.” he said smugly. The throbbing in my head was unbearable now and I felt blood leaving my nose and rolling over my lips, the smell of burning hair filling my nostrils as I fell to my knees. “That’s it, surrender and we’ll get you the help you need.” he repeated as he walked up behind me. I was panting now, my brain on fire and my vision reduced to merely pinholes as the pain swallowed up everything but my most basic of thoughts and functions. “Not. Surrendering.” I growled as I let go and allowed the pain to swallow me up. A violent tearing sound, deafening and total was all that could be heard aside from my own screaming and it seemed to drag on for an eternity as the brightest light imaginable swallowed everything around me and then I was tumbling through a tunnel of nothingness and the rushing sound of my own velocity replaced the chaos noises, and then it was all gone. Silence reigned supreme for what could’ve been a nanosecond or the entire span of human history until it was challenged by the soft melody of a lullaby generated from somewhere and nowhere at the same time. The tinny music filled my ears and the white began to fade allowing me to see the bright colors surrounding me, a ring of soft cartoon characters gently spun above me, the barred sides on either side of me rising high above where I lay. I felt myself smile and heard a gurgle as a happy feeling welled up within me and escaped my lips, sneaking out beneath the rubbery thing in my mouth. Words formed in my mind, names for the things I was seeing, all classified as being owned by me. There was my mobile, and my crib, and my pacifier, and then the feeling of my diaper growing warmer and wetter as my tinkle entered it. “Good morning, Jasmine!” a woman cooed from the other side of the room. I looked and felt that happiness again as I recognized the woman as my Mommy, though she was my own age, she was still the changer of diapers and giver of cuddles and bringer of milky boobies, the last one bringing an empty grumble from my tummy just thinking about it. “As you can see, the subject returns to her “safe space” when faced with adversity or fear.” Mommy said to a group of men and women behind her, all in the same white coats as Mommy. The people wrote on their clipboards and nodded. “So, you let her leave and do whatever she wants and trust that she’ll return?” one girl asked. Mommy shook her head. “Not exactly, Jasmine is far and away the most powerful being on Earth, we couldn’t stop her if we tried to.” she said as she walked over to the crib and reached inside to stroke my still silvery short hair. “We let her play with her toys for a little bit and then ensure she returns by sending our agents out to corral her into returning here, in the between times we ensure that her awareness of her power is diminished as much as possible through a combination of hypnosis, embedded in the music she hears all day and inhibitors in the food and drink she has outside of her normal breastfeeding.” she explained. “How do the agents keep from being affected by her?” one of the men asked. Mommy smiled at me. “Jasmine’s powers are only effective against beings with conscious thought or objects in the world, we created the agents with that in mind and found that she has no control over them and they became her babysitters of sorts.” she explained. “Is it safe for us to be in here with her?” another woman asked. Mommy nodded. “Jasmine can do things to you in here, I won’t lie, but she’s far less likely to do so here in her safe space where she’s calm and happy.” she said. The group wrote more on their clipboards. “Hungry, Mommy!” I burbled around my pacifier. Mommy smiled and let down the side of the crib before she picked me up as though I weighed nothing and carried me over to the rocking chair where she efficiently got me set up at her breast for my feeding. “As you can see, Jasmine has ensured that she can be taken care of as easily as a real infant, reducing her perceived weight to that of a mere newborn.” she explained as she rocked me and gently rubbed my back. I closed my eyes and savored the warm milk as it flowed down my throat and envisioned the cute blonde in the group. Her white coat and professional attire warping into a simple shirt and diaper similar to my own as her hair fell from its ponytail and bunched up into pigtails on either side of her head. “Jasmine!” Mommy scolded. I giggled, milk dribbling down my cheek as I heard the crinkling of the blonde’s diaper as she crawled over to us. “Clearly Jasmine took a shine to you, little one.” Mommy cooed to the blonde as she stopped at Mommy’s feet. Baby babble escaped the blonde’s lips behind me and Mommy scooted off the rocking chair and down to the floor to let my new sister join me for lunch on her other breast. “Why don’t you all head out to the hall while I finish with these two, and we’ll head to the storage facility to see the objects of power we’ve collected over the years.” Mommy told the group. Once they were all gone I looked up at Mommy and our eyes met and she smiled down at me. “She was a very bright young girl, Jasmine.” she told me. The blonde suckled noisily beside me and I unlatched from Mommy’s breast. “Do I hafta turn her back?” I asked. Mommy nodded softly. “She can spend the night with you here, but tomorrow she goes back to normal, okay?” she asked. I nodded. “Okay, Mommy!” I chirped happily before latching on to finish my meal. “Good girl.” Mommy whispered as she stroked my hair. “You’ll always be Mommy’s good girl, won’t you, Jasmine?” she asked. I nodded softly and closed my eyes, thinking about all the things Mommy had said to the people that were with her, wondering absently about what hypnosis and inhibitors were, but the sound of my new sister making a poopy in her diaper distracted me. “Looks like someone is racing you to poopy town.” Mommy cooed as she rubbed the blonde’s back softly. My thoughts focused on beating my new sister as I eagerly began to fill my own diaper. “I guess those things aren’t really important.” I thought to myself as Mommy praised me for winning the dirty diaper race. “Maybe I’ll try and figure it out tomorrow.” I decided.

Thank you for reading it, glad you liked it!

I didn't expect a smile from anyone, thanks!

I hate the title I finally settled on, but titles aren't my strongest area. I don't sleep very well and often times I lay awake and think of things to write, this is one of those things. If anyone likes this I'll share more of my work, if not I'll slink back into my cave of weirdness. ?? Reliving By: TheUnknownAuthor It was the thunder that woke me up the first time, it changed to other things at various points, but it was the crack of thunder that did it initially. My eyes shot open and I looked around my room in a blurry eyed panic, the inky darkness giving little to ease my anxiety. My eyes came to the nightlight on the other end of the room, the Little Mermaid themed one that I’d gotten for Christmas the previous year, Ariel and Sebastian smiling warmly as the glow behind their faces cast enough light to show me the path to my bedroom door. I looked around the bed, breathing a sigh of relief that it was my big girl bed this time. I wasn’t always so lucky, finding myself back in the crib I’d given up years earlier more times than I cared to remember, trapped in the sleeping cage of my infancy forced to wait helplessly until the end came creeping into the room. Shoving the blankets off me, more Little Mermaid images adorning them, barely recognizable in the dim nightlight wash, I scooted to the end of the bed and tentatively peeked over the side to the wood floor, wondering if I should look under the bed this time before planting my feet on the ground. With a deep breath I pushed myself from the bed so I landed a foot or so from the bed, out of reach of anything that might be lurking beneath the big girl bed I’d been so proud to earn. The slip resistant pads on the bottoms of the feet of my pajamas made small sticky vinyl ripping sounds on the wood floor as I crept across the room to the door that was slightly cracked this time. The door creaked softly as I slowly opened it enough to allow my small frame to slip through the gap into the hallway beyond. A shiver ran up my spine, it always did when I saw the hallway, the length of it seeming impossibly long to my diminutive form. The photos that lined either side of the hallway told the story of a happy family, my family, beginning with my parents when they were dating near where I stood, their smiles genuine and hopeful for the bright and prosperous future ahead of them. Wedding photos were next, my parents with long dead relatives and forgotten friends, still happy and ready for the future. The bathroom was coming up on my right, the first real test of my bravery. The nightlight inside cast a dim glow inside, enough to allow me to see the door was open this time, a good sign. I crept close to the frame and took a quick look inside, breathing a sigh of relief at the emptiness within. Moving slowly, I entered the room and picked up the little pink stool in the corner and carried it to the vanity and set it on the furry mat before ascending to get a look in the mirror. I turned my head from side to side as I tried to discern my age, somewhere between seven and nine given the length of my hair, still a mess from sleeping, and the lack of a gap where my front teeth hadn’t come in yet. I felt my face flush as I looked at the pink footed pajamas I wore and finally acknowledged the clammy bulge around my waist, the timeline jumbled worse than usual this time around. A crash somewhere else in the house made me jump, the clamminess around my waist warming as I turned and descended the step stool and moved to the bathroom door to look down the hallway to the stairs, a light coming from the lower floor, casting various shadows up to the landing. Moving back into the hallway I could see the pictures of my birth and various images chronicling the assorted firsts of my life. I focused my attention on the floor as I continued on, knowing the pictures would start distorting around this point of the hallway, my mother becoming frailer, her smile diminishing more and more until it became the more skeletal grin that I could never forget. My father would remain in the pictures to a point and then disappear entirely, leaving me and my emaciated mother trying to put on brave faces for the camera. By the time I reached the end of the hallway I knew the photos were mixes of me with the various families I’d ended up with over the years, my actual age and development replaced by the stunted and fearful little girl that I saw myself as, retreating to safer and simpler times to protect herself from the various abuses she would experience in the foster care system. The frames of these pictures were crooked, the glass cracked and the pictures beneath curled and faded from the emotional damage they’d absorbed over the years. One of the bedroom doors creaked open behind me down the hall and the expensive manicured nails of my third mother clacked on the wood of the door frame as they walked like spiders to the edge, the fake diamonds faintly glinting in the weak light of the hallway. I smelled the booze wafting from the room even as far away as I was, the scent of Vodka overpowering the acrid scent of my earlier accident. “Samantha.” her voice called softly, dragging each syllable of my name out, her trademark slur acting as a fingerprint leaving no doubt who she was. I looked down the stairs, the normal number replaced by hundreds of tiers, distorted to shapes and lengths never seen in stair design outside of something dredged from the nightmares of Escher. I looked back to the doorway and saw her peeking out at me, her hair matted to the side of her face with sweat and vomit. “Where are you going, Samantha?” she asked, moving into the hallway slowly, crouched down like a cat ready to pounce on its prey, her nails clacking against the floor as a warning to me to stay away, like a rattlesnake would. She was naked, her fake breasts impossibly swollen, the ugly veins she’d done everything to cover standing out prominently as they stiffly wobbled as she drunkenly swayed side to side watching me intently, waiting for me to run from her like I’d done the night I’d found her passed out on the sofa, the night she’d drowned in her own vomit because I ran instead of helping her. “You’re not real.” I whispered to her, my voice tiny and fearful. The sound she made didn’t register as laughter until she threw her head back and cackled like a witch, the hoarse and gurgling she’d started with shattering the silence of the hallway as it evolved into a malevolent chortle. “Not real? Are you sure, dear?” she asked. I nodded my head and began to lower myself to the first stair, keeping her in my line of sight as I crawled backward down the stairs like an unsteady toddler, my feet feeling around uncertainly for the next step and the next until she disappeared behind the wall and I finally allowed myself to breath for the first time in what seemed like hours. More pictures adorned the walls on either side of the stairs, pictures of me in school, sitting alone at recess because I was the weird girl that dressed like I’d escaped from a salvation army preschool. My stomach lurched at the sight of me curled into a fetal position clutching my stuffed penguin, my thumb firmly in my mouth as the girls from my class stood over me pointing and laughing at the girl that had shit her Pampers despite being the same age as them. The next frame was a formal document that was stamped with a still wet “FAILED”, the red of the ink dripping down the paper and permeating the frame to run down the wall like blood. I stopped descending to read the paper, whimpering as I read “Adulthood Proficiency” at the top with check boxes going down the length of it with sections for “Emotional Independence”, “Maturity”, and “Toilet Familiarity”, all angrily scratched through with red ink to the point that the paper was ripping. “Pathetic, isn’t it?” came a voice from the top of the stairs, a husky voice dripping with disdain. I looked up and saw my second father standing there leering down at me beneath his trucker cap, his tobacco stained teeth coming to dagger like points that his serpentine tongue flicked across. “It’s not true.” I told him. He chuckled. “No?” he asked. “Wasn’t it you that cried every damn night because you couldn’t stop pissing your bed?” he added with a sneer. Another step was found by my foot and I lowered myself, moving away from him slowly. “It wasn’t my fault!” I cried out. He knelt down and held out his hand. “It’s time to take your medicine, Sammy, it’s for your own good.” he told me. I shook my head, the phantom sting of beatings long passed welling up beneath the seat of my pajamas causing me to whimper once more as tears welled up in my eyes. “Leave me alone!” I yelled as I moved down another step. He scoffed. “I know the medicine is bitter, Pumpkin, but you know Daddy always kisses your boo boo’s and makes them all better afterward.” he said with a lecherous, hissing chuckle. I shuddered at the memory of his particular brand of aftercare and hurried to move down the stairs faster to escape him, finding no stair too late to stop myself from slipping from the stairs and falling into nothingness, watching him grow smaller and smaller as I fell further than anything possible in reality until I closed my eyes and braced for what I was sure would be a fatal impact. I never landed, I just sort of stopped falling, laying on my back somewhere soft, the scent of fresh laundry filling my nostrils as I breathed in deeply. I heard the tinkling of a wind chime and felt a gentle breeze on my face and my arms and legs, something impossible with the pajamas I’d been wearing a moment earlier. I opened my eyes and saw the backyard of my first home, my real home, my dad was at the grill and my mom was bringing out a lemonade for her and my dad, smiling widely at me as she saw me. “Look who’s up from her nap!” she declared as she set her drink down and walked over to me. She was wearing the floral printed maternity top she’d been wearing in several of the photos leading up to my birth, but the fabric flapped in the breeze freely and regularly pressed against her body, showing no pregnant belly beneath. I looked around to get my bearings and saw that I was in a playpen beneath the large oak tree we had in our yard. A look downward showed me that my pajamas were gone and the only item of clothing I was wearing was one of the cheap brands of adult diapers I’d been supplied with by later families that actually cared to help with my accidents rather than just leave me in soaked and soiled bedding to teach me a lesson. The flimsy pull on garment was barely a step above a hospital gown, my pale, freckled skin visible through the stretched sides. I knew this wasn’t right and I tried to escape, but my mother was already at the side of the playpen bending down to pick me up, cradling me in her arms as if I weren’t nearly the same height as her. “Burgers are almost done!” my dad called. My mother nodded and continued her trek across the yard, arriving at the small semicircle of patio chairs of to the side of the large picnic table we had under the back awning. “Let me just feed Sammy, hon.” she told him. I could hear the sound of running footsteps getting fainter and fainter, the knowledge that my father was gone somehow entering my brain, filling me with deep sorrow that caused me to start crying. “Shh, mama knows.” my mother cooed as she bounced me gently in her arms and slipped the material of her maternity top off her now even more slight frame with ease exposing her graying skin, her overripe breasts leaking a yellowish liquid that reeked of the hospital she’d died in. I struggled to get away as she guided my head closer to her breast, my legs and arms thrashing wildly but futilely as the burst hotdog like nipple entered my mouth and the hot chemotherapy laced milk flowed down my throat. She looked down at me, her flesh tightening against her bones becoming a death canvas, her eyes sinking into her sockets as the whites began to leak down her tearing cheeks. “Baby needs her milk to grow up big and strong.” she wheezed, her breath putrid with the scent of embalming fluid. Her hold on me loosened as she began to dry up and fall away like she was a pile of dead leaves and I rolled off her lap and onto all fours on the concrete, feeling no pain as I hurriedly crawled away, looking back just in time to see the last of her fall through the seat of the patio chair and swirl away on the breeze. The tears were flowing from my eyes as I turned to crawl once more, bumping into a pair of legs. The legs bent and he was smiling at me, the first boy I’d ever had feelings for, James Atkins. He was the TA in my remedial math class in junior college and was the kind of guy my real parents would’ve adored. I looked around the room I now found myself in, the bedroom of his apartment, and saw the bed above me and him reaching out with his strong arms to pick me up from the floor and stand with me, my long legs wrapping around his waist as I continued to sob and mourn the somehow new loss of my mother. “Hey, it’s okay.” he whispered as he rubbed my back softly. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” he added. When I had actually been in his room we’d started kissing after getting scared during part of the horror movie we’d been watching and hiding my eyes in his broad chest. He’d made a romantic gesture of scooping me up into his arms and carrying me like a new bride to his bedroom. My inexperience with any kind of positive physical intimacy left me unable to move as he gently lay me down on the bed and kissed me once more, his strong frame looming over me bringing about a rush of buried memories that led to a panic attack and me wetting his bed. In this new reality he was softly patting the seat of my diaper, now much thicker and adorned with pastel elephants, the kind I wore regularly now in my real life. My head was against his chest and my eyes were drooping as I listened to his heartbeat. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Sam?” he asked me. I shrugged dreamily. “There’s good stuff here.” I murmured as my thumb entered my mouth. His voice carried his smile to my ears. “Not enough of it though.” he finally said, pausing to gently remove my thumb and replace it with my Cookie Monster pacifier. “You deserve to be happy.” he whispered. I shook my head. “Sammy bad.” I told him. He was shaking his head. “Not bad, just treated bad.” he corrected. “You’re a sweet and innocent girl that just got a shitty set of hands dealt to her, that doesn’t make you bad.” he explained. I opened my eyes and looked up at him with wide eyes. “You said a no no word!” I said in a hushed whisper, afraid to be too loud and alert the authorities to his transgression. His caramel colored eyes sparkled as his perfect white teeth revealed themselves as he smiled widely at me. “I suppose I did, little one.” he told me before he hugged me. The real world James had been worried about me when I’d started having my panic attack, offering to call someone for me, reminding me that I had no one in my life that cared about me that wasn’t court ordered to do so. He’d been obviously disgusted when he learned I’d wet myself on his bed, but he remained kind and calming until I was relaxed enough to let him call me a ride home. I knew things were coming to an end with Daddy James, the feeling of weight being added to the seat of my diaper signaled that the next bit was on its way, and I hugged him as tight as I could until he began to shrink, his skin growing softer as he morphed into my stuffed penguin and I saw that I was now living the picture of myself being bullied that I’d seen on the stairs. “Sammy pooped her diaper!” the circle of girls chanted over and over as the kicked dirt on me and spat on me. This was second grade, all of the girls standing around me had teased and picked on me since kindergarten but this was where the tipping point had occurred. One of the girls knelt down and ripped my thumb from my mouth to grind it into the dirt with her foot, causing me to howl in pain before she jammed the dirty digit back into my mouth so hard I had cuts on my thumb from my teeth. Another girl kicked the seat of my diaper and bruised my tailbone, in addition to squishing my accident out of my diaper into my pants which began to show the leak prominently. “Samantha, do you want to leave?” came an ethereal voice. I shook my head and continued to sob. The ethereal voice sighed heavily. “End session!” it called out. Everything faded away and I was left staring into the empty blackness of the virtual reality goggles I was wearing, until those were removed and my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room I was in and the sympathetic face of my wife. “Hey, kiddo.” she said softly as she wiped my tears away with her fingers and pulled me to her for a hug. I sniffled and hugged her. “Why’d you stop it, Mommy?” I asked her. “I shook my head.” I added. She rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head. “Sammy, Mommy doesn’t like what happens to you in there.” she told me. “It hurts you and makes you sad and afraid and when you’re sad and afraid it makes Mommy sad and afraid.” she explained. I took a deep breath, the smell of wet and messy diaper filling my nostrils before I exhaled in a long sigh. “They’re in there though.” I told her. “My real parents, and sometimes I find them and everything is okay.” I told her. “Remember the time when I woke up and it was real early and my dad came because I was crying and he got me out of my crib and took me downstairs and gave me a bottle on the couch and the fireplace was going and it made the Christmas tree ornaments twinkle and then my mom came down and sat with us and we were a happy family?” I asked, getting a genuine smile from her before she nodded. “I do it for those moments, because those are the one’s I can’t remember on my own.” I confessed. “I know, baby, but so much of what happens to you in there is warped and horrifying.” she said. “Bad things that happened to you get magnified and distorted into the stuff of nightmares, is it really worth going through that on the off chance that you might experience one happy memory that’s buried so far under all that other stuff that you may not experience it at all?” she asked. I looked over at the console that showed that session number sixteen hundred and thirty one had ended and then to her and nodded slowly. “I lived through all of that, the bad and the good,” I started, cupping her face in my hands and gazing into her lovely green eyes. “my mind creates what I see when I’m in there based on the impact those people and experiences had on me when I was growing up.” I felt myself begin to cry again but forced it down, swallowing hard on the dull ache in my throat, “The bad people and the bad experiences aren’t going to hurt me anymore than they did the first time around, but the good ones, they could help me to be better.” I told her. She shook her head. “You can’t be better, sweetie.” she said, pulling me into her arms and hugging me tightly. “Those experiences made you who you are today, and that’s the girl that I married and love with all my heart.” she said as she kissed the top of my head. She sighed softly, “If you don’t want to stop trying to find those moments I’ll be here to hold your hand and pull you out if things get too bad, but I want you to understand that nothing you could find in there will ever be as real and as fulfilling as what you have right here.” she explained. I looked over her shoulder at the display and hugged her tightly. “You’re right.” I said quietly. “Why have I been wasting so many years chasing the memory of a father that abandoned his family when his wife got sick and subjected myself to the pain of losing my mother more times than I could possibly count when all I need is you?” I asked. She rubbed my back softly. “Everyone deals with things differently.” she said. “When I put you to bed I use that to relive moments where I couldn’t think of a witty comeback or to tell that stuck up bitch Jan at work what I really think of the pictures of her cats.” she confessed. “The thing is, those victories and indulgences are fleeting, they don’t fulfill me the way that you do.” she told me. “As long as you understand the difference between reality and what you see in there, you can use it for anything you want.” I giggled softly. “Could I use it to be your Mommy?” I asked. She pulled me away from her embrace and looked at me with a stony, serious face. “You can never, ever use it for that.” she said sternly before breaking into a fit of giggles herself, tickling my sides to snap me out of my concern at her being so serious. “In all seriousness though,” she said as she patted the lumpy seat of my diaper, “I don’t think Mommies need their poopy diapers changed before bed.” she whispered before kissing my cheek and taking my hand in hers, leading me to a clean diaper and a bottle of milk while she read me a story and finally tucked me in for bed. The End