TheUnknownAuthor

Thanks! I've never written a body swap/regression type story, so here's hoping I don't screw it up too badly... II “If I Act My Age Will That Make Me More Or Less Mature?” Beckah scrambled eggs while Molly me and I stared at each other. I could tell the gears were turning in my daughter’s brain, but I couldn’t tell if she had any real concept of what was happening beyond the obvious fact that she was in a grown up body and looking at herself sitting at the table with her. “Beckah?” Molly me asked. Beckah half turned and smiled, “Yes, Molly?” she asked sweetly. Molly me looked at me for a bit and then at her sister, “Am I Mommy now?” she asked. Beckah stifled a chuckle and looked over at me, another chuckle pushed aside when she saw my cheeks redden, “For now, I suppose you are.” she said, “Can you be a big girl and act like Mommy?” she asked. Molly me looked at me and giggled, covering her mouth to unsuccessfully hide her giddiness before she nodded excitedly, “Uh huh!” she chirped eagerly. Beckah returned to her cooking, finishing off the eggs and plating them before coming to the table and setting the normal plate in front of Molly me and the pink plastic plate/bowl hybrid with individual compartments in front of me before she went to the drawer by the sink and got out a bib and a dish towel, returning to gently tuck the dish towel into the collar of Molly me’s shirt and tie the bib around my neck. “I don’t need a bib.” I argued, a little more petulant and sullen than I intended. Beckah patted my head, “I could feed you.” she offered, “Maybe get the highchair out of the attic for you?” she added. I felt my bottom lip stick out as I shook my head and picked up the chunky plastic spork beside my plate/bowl and scooped a bite of egg onto it and into my mouth to avoid having to say anything else. “Good girl.” she said with a satisfied smirk as she took a seat at the other side of the table and watched the pair of us eat our breakfast. Molly me struggled with the adult fork for a moment, finding she could grip it in her fist to use it more effectively, and I got to watch myself eat with the dexterity and poise of a four year old while I did my best to prove that my current body didn’t dictate my ability to remain an adult. Beckah tapped away on her phone before setting it down on the table, “I told Daddy to get some pull on diapers for Molly for the daytime so we can work on potty training you both at the same time.” she told me. “I’m already potty trained, Beckah.” I reminded her indignantly. She nodded, “Right, but Molly isn’t and you’re in her body, and her bladder is much smaller than you’re used to.” she explained, “Plus, think of how great it would be if you could give her a fully potty trained body when you switch back!” she added. I nodded absently as I mentally assessed the dampness in my training panties, wondering if Molly’s smaller bladder wasn’t the reason I’d had the accident. Beckah scooted out her chair and came over to me, kneeling down beside me, “I hope that faraway look isn’t someone having an accident.” she whispered before she took the spork from my hand and picked me up. “Finish your eggs while I take Molly to the potty.” she told Molly me as we left the table and headed down the hall to the bathroom. “I wasn’t peeing, I was thinking!” I whined, squirming futilely against her strength. Beckah said nothing more as we entered the bathroom and she set me down in front of the toilet, “We can never be too careful with little one’s, can we?” she asked rhetorically as she turned and pulled the purple plastic training potty from beneath the sink and set it beside me before she went to work unhooking the straps of my shortalls. I jerked, “I can do it!” I protested, grabbing the strap and working to unhook it. She smirked at me, “Are you sure you didn’t switch brains, too?” she asked. I sneered at her as I struggled to unhook the strap, pulling it away from me as I looked down at it, “My fingers are too small!” I whined, stomping my foot in frustration. She rolled her eyes and sighed as she pulled me back to her and deftly undid the straps before shimmying the shortalls down my body, leaving me in just my shirt and pull up, “Hmm, shouldn’t there be flowers on the front of these?” she asked knowingly as she lightly prodded the front of my pull up. I swallowed hard and felt my cheeks and ears heating up. “Did you have an accident?” she asked me. “It’s not my fault, I got scared when Jason-” I started to argue. “Daddy.” she corrected. I looked at her quizzically. She pulled my pull up down and lifted me up and set me down on the little plastic potty, “You’re Molly, and Molly calls Jason ‘Daddy’.” she reminded me, her eyes examining the center of the pull up around my ankles. I sighed, “Fine.” I said softly through clenched teeth, “I got scared when Daddy,” I said, placing a snotty emphasis on the word, “glared at me in the living room.” I explained. She laughed suddenly, “So, is this the first time you’ve wet yourself because he was mad at you or…” she trailed off. “It’s not funny, Beckah!” I snapped. She sighed, “Stay put until I get back, I need to make sure Mommy is okay.” she commanded, standing up and looking down at me with a satisfied smile before she left the bathroom. I looked down at the center of my pull up and furrowed my brow at how yellow it was, surprised at my miscalculation of the severity of my accident. Beckah returned a moment later with Molly me trailing by the hand behind her, “We might as well make you two potty pals, right?” she asked no one in particular, bending to pull down Molly me’s stretch pants and panties before helping guide my former self onto the toilet beside me. Sitting on a baby potty with wet training panties around my ankles while my adult body sat on the regular toilet looking down at me was a blow to my ego, but the sound of water hitting water shortly afterward while my potty remained dry was enough to make me feel the shame of my accident magnified a hundred fold. “Good girl!” Beckah praised Molly me, looking to me a moment later, “Do I have two good girls today?” she asked. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on peeing, but merely managed to sheepishly shake my head in defeat after half a minute of silence. Beckah knelt in front of me, “Hey,” she said, “it’s not easy learning to use the potty, but we’ll keep trying and you’ll get it.” she said reassuringly, kissing my forehead softly as she stood me back up and helped me step out of the wet trainers, “Go wait in your room for me while I help Mommy, okay?” she requested. Bottomless, I left the bathroom and hurried to “my room”, the sounds of Beckah heaping praise on Molly me for being such a big girl carrying down the hall to the nursery I found myself in. I self consciously stood away from the changing table containing all the diapers Beckah would need to keep me from trying again to use the toilet, hoping she’d let me have another pair of pull up’s instead. Beckah and Molly me arrived as I was starting to wonder why I was waiting in the first place, confident in my ability to get a new pull up from the dresser and put it on myself. “Alright, kiddo, let’s get you cleaned up!” Beckah chirped as she let go of Molly me’s hand and grabbed a wipe from the container by the changing table and a pull up from the drawer. I closed my eyes as she wiped me, the shame of being cleaned by my daughter in front of my other far younger daughter making my stomach churn. “How come Molly not wear diaper?” Molly me asked. Beckah was preparing the pull up for me to step into, “Because Molly is going to learn to use the potty like you just did, remember?” she asked the girl. “Step.” she gently commanded me. I opened my eyes and stepped into the pull up as she requested, letting her slide it up my legs when my other foot went in. “Molly not a baby?” Molly me asked. Beckah shook her head, “She’s a little fussy this morning, but no, she’s not a baby.” she said, condescendingly patting my head. “I do think we’ll leave your shortalls off for now though, make sure we can get to the potty on time.” she told me. I wasn’t happy with that, but her comment about my fussiness kept me from arguing as she picked me up and took Molly me’s hand to head out of the nursery. ********* When Jason got home from the store a little while later Molly me was on her stomach with her feet lightly kicking back and forth while she colored in her coloring book while I sat on the couch with Beckah, the two of us on our phones. Setting the bags down, he walked over to me and snatched my phone from my hands. “Hey!” I snapped. He sighed, “Does Molly sit on the couch on her phone?” he asked. “She doesn’t have a phone.” I cheekily reminded him. He nodded, “Right, so now neither do you.” he said firmly, “Get down on the floor and color like a good little four year old.” he commanded. “Jason-” I started. “Daddy.” he corrected, mirroring the earlier exchange with Beckah. I sighed, “Daddy, Jeremiah isn’t home.” I pointed out. “I don’t care.” he said, “You need to get used to being Molly, and that means all the time, not just when Jeremiah is home because knowing you, you’ll slip and clue him in to what’s happening and we don’t want that, right?” he asked. I grumbled and slid off the couch, going to where my adult body was coloring. “I know it isn’t easy, but please be more firm with her about this.” he told Beckah. “Sorry, Daddy, she had an accident and I thought it might help her self esteem if she could have some grownup time.” Beckah explained. He snorted, “An accident?” he asked. Beckah nodded, “She said she got scared when you glared at her earlier.” she told him. He sighed, “Unbelievable.” he muttered softly, “Look, I need to get to work, just please make sure she behaves like Molly at all times.” he said, turning and scooping me up from the floor. The sudden feeling of rising in the air without warning scared me and made me yelp in surprise as he turned me around and held me with my butt resting on his arm. “Beckah is in charge while I’m not home, is that clear?” he asked me. I nodded softly. “Yes, Daddy.” he encouraged me to say. I sighed softly, “Yes, Daddy.” I said sullenly. He kissed my cheek and set me back down, “Good girl.” he praised. “Alright, you should have everything you need for today, but if you need anything else just let me know and I can get it on my way home from work.” he told Beckah. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine, Daddy.” Beckah said. Once he’d left, Beckah got Molly me into one of the pull on diapers and got her settled on the couch with some cartoons before she picked me up and sat me on her lap, bouncing me softly as the brightly colored characters made silly noises and went on with their adventure. While I sat on her lap, Beckah brushed my hair and put it into pigtails and fawned over how cute I looked. “Laying it on kinda thick, aren’t you?” I asked her. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Molly.” she said, placing emphasis on my slave name. I pouted and squirmed to get off her lap, but found her hold of me too strong, so with a defeated grunt of frustration I settled down and let her keep gently bouncing me while Molly me sat engrossed in her cartoon. ********* Beckah’s phone began ringing just as I started to feel sleepy, and she picked it up and answered it, “Hey, girl!” she greeted the person on the other end. I could hear one of her idiot girlfriends on the other end babbling on about how boring school was without Beckah there. “Yeah,” Beckah said, shifting me on her lap so she could hold the phone to her ear with her shoulder, “I’m on babysitting duty for the foreseeable.” she said. Idiot girlfriend asked what happened. “Dude, my mom like snapped or something in the night and woke up crying like a baby because she pissed the bed.” Beckah explained, gently patting my bare thigh as she softly bounced me on her lap. Idiot girlfriend cackled madly into the phone and expressed her disbelief. “Yeah, girl, my dad was hella pissed and went out and got diapers for her and everything because she’s straight acting like Molly right now.” Beckah told her. I seethed as I listened to idiot girlfriend remark that that behavior wasn’t anything new from me and Beckah laughed. “Right?!” she exclaimed, “I mean, diapers seem pretty appropriate for her maturity level in general.” she said. I tried again to slip off her lap, but found myself turned and on my back in her arms like a baby as she looked down at me and smiled while idiot girlfriend blathered on. “Yeah, I’m not looking forward to changing her, but I get her car while she’s fudging her Huggies, so I guess it isn’t all bad.” Beckah said. Idiot girlfriend launched into making plans for how Beckah’s new independence could be used to party and hook up with guys while Beckah nodded. I glared up at Beckah angrily. “Hey, call me after school gets out, okay? I think it’s about nap time for the babies.” Beckah explained. “No nap!” Molly me loudly protested in my voice, bringing a fresh peal of laughter through the phone. “See what I get to deal with?” Beckah asked. “Alright, bye.” she said once idiot girlfriend gave her permission to handle her business. “That was so fucking mean.” I hissed. Beckah raised an eyebrow, “Molly!” she exclaimed, “That is a no no word, young lady!” she chided. “Knock it off, Beckah!” I snapped, wriggling to sit up. Setting down her phone, Beckah held me tight and rocked me gently in her arms, “I think someone is ready for her nap.” she cooed. I growled and thrashed my arm at her, slapping her in the face with my little hand. She gasped in surprise and sat me up, standing with me, “We do not hit!” she scolded. “Then don’t be a little bitch!” I argued. Taking Molly me’s hand, Beckah carried me and led her to the nursery and lay me down on the changing table before securing the strap around my waist in a fluid motion that was too quick for me to fight against. “Daddy is going to hear about your potty mouth and your naughty behavior when he gets home.” she threatened. I scoffed, “Too much for you to handle on your own, Ms. Responsibility?” I teased. She smirked at me, “No,” she said calmly as she ripped the sides of my still dry pull up and tossed it in the diaper pail, “I just think it will be far more effective for your husband to punish you like the baby you are.” she said as she got a diaper out from under the changing table’s top and opened it up, “Besides,” she said, leaning in close to whisper to me, “if Molly sees me spanking her former body, it could really mess her up.” she continued before resuming her task of getting me into a diaper. “You can’t do this to me!” I screamed as she taped the diaper closed and undid the strap around my waist to sit me up and whisk my shirt off before expertly wrangling me into a pair of footed pajamas. “No?” she asked with a chuckle before she picked me up and deposited me in the crib, sliding the rail up and locking it in place. “I’m still your mother!” I snapped. She stood there with her arms resting on the top of the crib rail and her chin resting on her arms, “You’re a toddler and I will treat you like a toddler until you switch back with Molly.” she said with a syrupy sweet tone as she reached into the crib and plucked the pacifier from within the blankets and gently but firmly pressed it into my mouth, “You’re already in enough trouble, so just keep your binky in and take a nice nap and maybe I’ll forget to tell Daddy about your little tantrum.” she said. I fought the urge to spit the pacifier out and lay into her and merely glowered up at her as she tucked me in. “C’mon, honey, let’s let the baby take her nap and get you on the potty.” Beckah told Molly me as she took the woman by the hand and led her out of the room. As sleepiness once again crept up on me, the sound of Beckah praising another successful trip to the toilet filled my ears and I closed my eyes and gave in and sucked the pacifier in my mouth to keep from crying at how terribly I’d messed up. ********* In my dream, I was at a traffic light with Beckah in the passenger seat, earbuds firmly in her ears, Jeremiah was in the back fiddling with some piece of tech, muttering to himself as he was known to do, and Molly was asleep in her carseat. The dream had started with us sitting at the light, but my dream self felt like it had been an intolerable amount of time to be waiting and decided to honk and grumble obscenities at the innocent vehicle in front of us, as I was known to do. “Hannah!” Beckah snapped, diverting my attention from the traffic and the light to look at my daughter. The instant she came into view, my perspective shifted from turning to my right to look at her to looking up from the spinning cylinder full of something that made a rattling sound connected to the bar in front of me in my carseat, the look on my own adult face making my bottom lip tremble. “Where is your binky, young lady?” my adult self asked, reaching back into the well stocked diaper bag on the floor between the seats to retrieve the binky in question, “No no words are very naughty for babies to say.” she chided as she pressed the pacifier into my mouth. I whimpered and sucked the pacifier as a warmth flooded into my pants at Mommy being upset with me. “Not Mommy.” I gurgled around the pacifier. My adult self smiled at me in the rearview mirror, “That’s right, baby, Mommy is here!” she cooed, her earlier displeasure erased. I looked to my left and saw Jeremiah tinkering away and could see the back of Beckah’s head in the passenger seat and realized that I was Molly, not just my adult mind in her body, but the genuine article, the understanding of that concept slipping away the instant it appeared as the noisy cylinder reclaimed my attention. ********* “Did you have a good nap, Molly?” Beckah’s soft voice asked as she finished lowering the side of the crib and picked me up to cuddle to her. I rested my head on her shoulder and nodded sleepily, “Yes, Mommy.” I quietly lisped around my pacifier. Beckah giggled and patted my crinkly bottom, “Mommy’, huh?” she asked as she began to rub my back. The fog of sleep lifted and I gasped at what I’d said, “I meant, Beckah.” I stammered, my pacifier falling to the floor. Kneeling, she picked up the pacifier and shifted me forward so she could put it back into my mouth, holding it in place until I stopped acting like I was going to immediately spit it back out. “Whatever you say, baby.” she said as she carried me out of the nursery on her hip. “What about my pull up?” I asked. “And my clothes?” I added. She shrugged, “Babies wear their diapers and jammies all the time.” she said as she brough me to the living room and set me down on the floor among the toys still there. “I’m not a-” I started to say, turning with a crinkle to look up at her with a sour face that disappeared when her hands went on her hips and her expression dared me to finish the statement, which I declined to do. “Mommy is taking a nap still, so I need you to be a good girl and play quietly for another half hour, okay?” she asked me as she continued along her path to the kitchen and returned with a sippy cup of juice for me. “Is Jeremiah home?” I asked sheepishly as I pulled the pacifier from my mouth and replaced it with the sippy cup, the cold juice feeling good with how warm I was in my footed pajamas. Beckah sat on the couch and shook her head, “He texted Mommy and let her know he’d be home for dinner.” she explained. “Can you please just talk to me like an adult?” I asked. She smiled, “Well, since you asked so nicely,” she said, “no.” she added. “Daddy expects you to be treated like Molly, and that’s what I’m going to do.” she explained. “But he’s not here and it’s just you and me.” I argued. She gave me a thoughtful look and sighed, “I wish I could, mom, I do, but I need to impress Daddy so he recognizes how mature I am.” she explained. “That means doing what he wants and treating you like I would Molly.” she added. The stress of everything hit me all at once as defeat set in and I found myself uncontrollably bawling without warning, the sippy cup falling to the floor as I covered my face and had a soul cleansing cry that didn’t stop when Beckah picked me up, that didn’t stop when she cradled me in her arms and rocked me, and didn’t stop when she gently rubbed light but firm circles on my stomach, and that only slightly ebbed when she put my pacifier back in my mouth. “Shh.” she softly cooed, “Let it all out, baby.” she said softly as she rocked me. My emotions began to calm as the pacifier brought me comfort in sucking on it, combined with the gentle motion of her rocking me and a renewed warmth in my diaper, I was soon calm once more and quiet. “That’s better, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically, wiping my tears away gently with her finger, “Sometimes we just need to cry, huh, baby?” she asked. I absently nodded and sighed contentedly as a pleasant tingle went across my scalp and I snuggled into her embrace. “There’s the Molly I know.” she whispered as she shifted me in her arms and began gently patting my bottom, the diaper beneath my pajamas crinkling softly with each pat. The knot of stress in my stomach eased and my body told me to push it away, down lower so it wouldn’t bother me anymore and I did, quietly grunting as I pushed it away with all the power my new little body could manage and I felt it leave me and felt better, lighter, calmer as I looked up at Beckah’s smiling face. “Yep, that’s definitely the Molly I know.” she said sweetly as she gave on final pat to the seat of my diaper. The pat made me realize that the emotional knot in my stomach had been far more tangible and smelly than I’d realized and I felt shame well up in me and another tantrum brewing until I saw Beckah smiling down at me, unfazed by the smell I’d created, unbothered by the prospect of changing my soiled diaper. She loved Molly unconditionally and would never humiliate her little sister by sharing embarrassing personal secrets about her to her friends over the phone or fight with her about pointless things in an effort to challenge the balance of power in the house. My pacifier bobbed softly as I closed my eyes, finding solace in my new role in the house for the first time since the switch. I’d always wanted Beckah and I to have a good and loving relationship, my desire to be her cool mom vying for her approval wrestling constantly with my need to keep her from ending up a young mother like I had, was having her pat my stinky diapered butt while she rocked me in her arms the ideal scenario for us to bond? No, absolutely not, but we were bonding and I felt her love and it superseded my discomfort and embarrassment for the moment and I put my free arm around her middle and hugged her as tightly as I could. Her smile was genuine and loving as she curled me upward and hugged me back, planting a single kiss on my cheek. Maybe she’d forgotten I was her mother in her sister’s body, but I chose to believe that her affection was directed at the real me and this was her way of expressing it without having to admit that she loved her mother. To Be Continued...

The Importance Of Being Specific By: The Unknown Author I “My Ass Has Grown And My Dreams Have Shrunk” It’s funny that with all the advancements in society and technology that people still fit into weird molds, that they still end up embodying these weirdly specific archetypes that you think is just something you attached to them as a high school student, but then as an adult you see someone else that checks certain imaginary boxes in your head and you assign that person a nickname or descriptor based on that fact. Larry Conrad was the kid in my school who’s mom still cut his hair, we’d laugh at him getting dropped off in the morning, his mother fussing over some unimportant detail about his appearance and blowing him kisses as he stepped out of the car and hurried into the school to get away from the eyes and snickers of his peers. Michelle D’Angelo was the girl that took an inordinately long time to understand the basics of hygiene so she didn’t smell like roofing tar all day when she was on her period. Cameron Lance was saddled with the unfortunate rhyme of ‘Cameron Lance shits his pants’ during a field trip to the zoo in second grade and nearly eradicated the memory until a repeat performance in the lunch room freshman year brought it back to life. Weird is weird, and we as a society, whether we admit it or not, base our assessments on people by what our senses tell us about them when we first encounter them. Am I proud that I laughed at these people? No. Do I think I’m better than them as a person? I did back then, but now, no. Larry Conrad became an internet billionaire, wrote a book and made more money, bought an island and fucked off from society. Michelle D’Angelo just wrapped up filming on the third season of the show she created and directs, a show that everyone is watching and that everyone loves. Cameron Lance, ironically, owns and operates the largest chain of dry cleaning stores in the continental United States and leaned into his shameful past by calling them “Lance Cleans Pants”. I’m not without my own successes, I mean, in comparison I’m average, but I was prom queen and married my prom king a little after graduation. We have three kids, Beckah is our oldest and is nearly done with high school herself and has decided arguing with me is her extracurricular activity of choice when she’s not sneaking out to go party with friends and do God knows what else. Jeramiah is thirteen and has mastered not only computers and pretty much anything digital you put in front of him, but also hiding the articles of clothing he masturbates into in all kinds of fun places around the house. Molly is our youngest at four and is, let’s say, ‘taking her time’ with the whole big girl thing, her room is still decorated the way it’s been since she was born and we’ve gone from training pants to diapers more times than I can count. Jason, my husband, works at the factory he got a job at when he graduated and spends most nights glued to his phone, but when he finally unplugs for the night, then he complains about the younger generation that’s starting pay is almost as high as his and that more and more robots are being installed at the plant and he’s worried they’ll replace him. Once a week I try and get him hard and more often than not he ends up pushing rope inside me for an embarrassingly short amount of time before he finishes and passes out, leaving me to wonder just how I managed to lose control of my life so completely that I’ve ended up as the married mother of three that fingers herself to grocery store romance novels in the tub, the woman that imagines being married to Larry Conrad or Cameron Lance and cries at how pathetic and unsatisfying her life has become. My typical day revolves around getting everyone where they need to go once Jason leaves for work, Beckah rides shotgun with her headphones in, Jeremiah is always holding some kind of device and toiling away on cracking some code or what have you, and Molly is in her car seat looking out the window at the world while I absently wonder if I’ll have time to dig the stretch pant wedgie from my ass before anyone in the general public notices. Because of her delayed potty training, we haven’t been able to get Molly into daycare, something that frustrates me more when the car begins to fill with the odor of a messy diaper and my errands for the day haven’t even begun. The one week out of the year that everything becomes bearable is when the carnival comes to town. I love it because Jason becomes his old romantic self again, winning me a stuffed animal at a cheesy game, holding my hand as we walk beneath the strings of lights while the kids fuck off to the corners of wherever to entertain themselves. Jason loves it because it reminds him of when we were dating, and two of our three kids were conceived on a night the week of the carnival. Beckah loves it because she can sidle up to a carny running one of the rides and score free sips from his flask and maybe some pot. Jeremiah loves it because there’s games and rides, and not because he can see up girl’s skirts on the Ferris Wheel. Molly loves it because she’s a baby, and bright colors and lots of sound are exciting, I could shine a flashlight at her and jingle some keys in her face and she’d probably love it equally if I’m being honest. It was the last night of the carnival and we’d gone every previous night with the desired results of peace and happiness among every member of the family, but tonight was the best night because it was mostly empty. Beckah and Jeremiah had gone off on their own, and Jason had stepped up to take Molly back to the car for a clean diaper and I was sitting on a bench waiting for his return, wondering if I could seduce him into fucking me somewhere moderately secluded after we found Beckah and pawned Molly off onto her for a little while. I got up and wandered a little, walking past the rows of arcade games, claw machines, and sawdust covered pools of vomit when I saw a fortune telling machine with a creepy animatronic Gypsy head inside hovering over a crystal ball. “Wishes granted for $1.50” I read off the gold and ruby colored sign on top of the machine. I smirked and checked my purse, finding exactly six quarters in the small change pocket of my wallet and fit them into the slits on the metal protrusion in the front of the machine before pushing it in and watching as the machine sprung to life. “Madame Zelna is here to grant your wish!” the robot Gypsy declared in a warbly sounding voice that was probably as culturally insensitive as it was technologically impressive for the time period it was made in. The lights inside the glass case Madame Zelna inhabited dimmed and the crystal ball filled with white mist as the robot inside jerked and noisily looked down into it. “Close your eyes and speak your wish and Madame Zelna will make it come true!” she said, sounding like an old drive thru speaker. I didn’t close my eyes at first, but I did look around to make sure no one was nearby to film the middle aged woman about to make a wish at a crappy carnival game or someone lurking in the shadows to rape murder me and when I was satisfied that I was well and truly alone, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “I wish I could trade places with my daughter.” I said longingly. “Your wish will be granted at the stroke of midnight!” Madame Zelna proclaimed before launching into a wheezy sounding cackle that ended abruptly when the machine went dark. I chuckled and opened my eyes, patting the glass with my hand, “Thanks a bunch, Madame Z.” I said to the lifeless robot head before I headed back to the bench to wait for Jason. We as humans are very inattentive, so focused on our own things that we fail to see what’s all around us. In my defense, my eyes were closed, so the shooting star that passed over me as I spoke my wish went unnoticed, and I can be forgiven for assuming the fairy gorging himself on discarded cotton candy was a moth, his chuckle going unheard thanks to the distance between us and the difference in our size, the fact that it was exactly seven o’clock on the seventh day of the seventh month was a minor detail that passed by without notice, the point is that a few things happened when I made my wish, and none of them were noticed by me. ********** “God dammit, Hannah!” the distant raised voice of Jason stirred me from my slumber. “What happened?” I asked dreamily as I rolled over and banged my elbow into something I wasn’t expecting to be where my elbow was heading. I opened my eyes and gasped at the tall bars stretching upward around me and the mobile of stuffed stars and rainbows and clouds dangling high above me. Somewhere I heard myself crying, though it was a form of crying I never did, the anguished wailing of someone very young being very scared that someone was yelling at them and they didn’t know why. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I repeated as I sat up and felt my stomach drop as I looked through the bars at Molly’s room beyond. I pushed the blankets off of myself and shuddered involuntarily at the sight of pink footed pajamas with a distinct bulge in the crotch on my little body, looking at my hands and wiggling my feet to verify that the absolute worst thing in the world had happened. “Jason!” I yelled, more than slightly panicked. “What the hell is happening?” Beckah asked in the hallway. “I don’t know, your mom pissed the bed and now she’s screaming and crying and Molly is yelling my name.” Jason grumbled before he pushed the door of the nursery open and came to the side of the crib. His pajamas were drenched, the smell of pee radiating off of him, “Jason, I made a wish last night to switch places with Beckah but it got messed up and I switched with Molly instead!” I explained, standing up in the crib and holding the bars to steady myself on the mattress. He blinked at me, opened his mouth and then closed it and then looked at me in disbelief, “What?” he asked. I groaned, “I fucked up, honey, but I need you to help me fix it.” I said. He grumbled something about coffee as he sighed and rubbed his temples before turning around and leaving the room. “Hey!” I shouted, rattling the bars angrily. “What’s wrong with Molly?” Beckah asked Jason as he left the room. “Ask her yourself.” Jason grumbled. Beckah poked her head in the doorway a moment later and came over to the crib, “What’s wrong, Molly?” she cooed, letting down the side of the crib and picking me up to set me on her hip. Internally I was mortified at the girl I’d intended to switch with holding me like the baby I now was, “Beckah, it’s me, your mom.” I said, my cheeks burning with shame. Beckah practically dropped me in surprise but managed to regain control of me, holding me away from her so she could look into my eyes, “Mom?” she asked. I repeated my explanation to her and had to endure her laughter as she set me back down on the mattress to keep from actually dropping me as she held her stomach and wiped a tear from her eye, “Why did you want to be a baby?” she asked. “I didn’t!” I argued, “I wanted to switch with you!” I told her. She stopped laughing, “You wanted to be me?” she asked. I nodded softly. “Wait, so I’d be stuck in your body?” she sneered. “Don’t say it like it’s so terrible.” I said, “You’d be an adult!” I offered. She shook her head, “Yeah, but what’s the point when you’re an adult that’s like given up on being hot?” she asked. That hurt. “Hey!” I snapped, “I’m still your mom, Beckah!” I added. She smirked and patted my head condescendingly, “And I’ll bet widdle Mommy needs her diapie changed, doesn’t she?” she cooed. I batted her hand away, “It’s not my fault Molly isn’t potty trained!” I snapped. She put her hands on her hips, “Isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, you never really tried with her, you just kind of gave up because she didn’t seem interested.” she pointed out. I groaned, “Look, you’re not a mom, you wouldn’t understand.” I sighed. She lifted the side of the crib back up and locked it in place, “You’re obviously cranky because you need more sleep.” she said, a wicked smile on her face, “We’ll see if some more time in your crib doesn’t improve your mood.” she added, heading to the door. “Wait!” I called out, but she was already shutting the door behind her, leaving me alone with an unpleasant clamminess in my diaper. ********* “So, you were so unhappy with your life that you wanted to trade places with your teenage daughter?” Jason asked me later once he’d had his coffee and dealt with our wet bed and calmed Molly me down with a bath and a pacifier and then changed my diaper and dressed me for the day. He’d foregone a diaper for me at my insistence, but Molly’s lack of underwear meant that one of the training pants she’d given up wearing was under the denim shortalls he’d put on me. Beckah was on the couch with Molly me, stroking the girl’s hair as she lay with her head on Beckah’s lap sucking softly on her pacifier, the sight of me being lovingly soothed by my teenage daughter was weird, but the pacifier and the towel she’d laid out beneath Molly me to avoid ruining the couch were making my head spin. “How was I supposed to know the wish would come true!?” I exclaimed. He shook his head, “The point is that you wanted to be someone else, Hannah.” he said calmly, “I want to know why.” he added. I chewed my lip softly, “I don’t know,” I said, “I miss being young and hot and partying.” I said, avoiding talking about sex with my four year old daughter’s voice and my teenage daughter present. He sighed, “Well, you’ve fucked everything up six ways from Sunday, Hannah.” he said, “First, Molly is stuck in your body and that means that I need to go get adult diapers for her so we’re not living in a piss and shit stained house until we can fix this.” he said, “Then, I need to come up with some excuse for work that allows me to be a stay at home dad to my baby brained wife and my adult brained baby daughter.” he continued. “I can stay home and watch them, Daddy.” Beckah offered. I shook my head, “No, you need to go to school, young lady.” I said, not realizing how ridiculous my toddler voice sounded trying to be authoritative. “Actually, I have the credits I need to graduate already, and I’m sure a call from Daddy about a family emergency would allow me to miss the rest of the year without any issue.” Beckah explained. “Then you can keep going to work and I can make sure Jeremiah gets to school and that the babies are taken care of.” she explained to Jason, smiling at me when she said ‘babies’. “I’m not a baby!” I reminded her. Jason sighed, “Alright, I’ll call the school and tell them your mother had some kind of stroke or mental breakdown or something so that if someone comes by to check they’re not surprised to find her in diapers carrying on like a four year old.” he explained. I fumed at being left out of the discussion, “Don’t I get a say in any of this?!” I yelled. Jason shot me a glare that made my blood run cold and my training panties run warm, “No.” he said simply, “You didn’t include me or Beckah in your little wish making decision, so we’re not including you in this.” he explained. “You’re Molly now, and until we can figure out how to fix this you’ll be treated exactly as she was.” he added. I looked at him in stunned silence and then at Beckah who merely smiled at me in the most sincere looking insincere smile I’d ever seen. “I think it would be best for Jeremiah if he didn’t know about the wish and the switch.” Jason said, “I’ll make up a story to explain why his mother is behaving like a baby, but you need to act like Molly around him, is that clear?” he asked. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing, you want me to pretend to be a baby?” I asked incredulously. He nodded, “I do.” he said simply, downing the rest of his coffee and setting the cup on the table, “You’ve turned enough lives upside down, Hannah, spare Jeremiah the weirdness that our life has become and pray that Molly isn’t permanently scarred because of this.” he added. The small dribble of pee that had escaped me when glared at me was cooling rapidly and I didn’t look forward to Beckah discovering my accident, but Jason was standing and going to collect his keys and wallet from the bowl by the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with the diapers, do your best, Becks.” he said before heading out the door. Like a cat that ate a canary, Beckah turned and smiled at me, “I suppose I should make breakfast for my hungry girl’s, huh?” she asked in that bubbly babytalk voice we all used with Molly. I watched as she sat Molly me up and took her by the hand and led her to the table where I was already seated in Molly’s highchair, my blush at having to endure the conversation that had just concluded while seated in a highchair and now with damp training panties had almost subsided until I watched Molly me be sat in a chair by Beckah and kissed on the top of her head as she sucked her pacifier and my cheeks were burning hot once more. “I know you probably think I’m going to abuse you or something.” Beckah said as she got out the eggs from the fridge. I shook my head, “No, why would you think that?” I asked. She turned and looked at me, “Because you think I’m all about partying and fucking guys or something.” she said, “That’s why you wanted to be me, right?” she asked. “I don’t-” I started to say. “Doesn’t matter!” she cheerfully interrupted, “What matters is that I’m going to show you how wrong about me you were.” she said as she got out the orange juice and filled two sippy cups up and screwed on the tops before bringing them to the table and setting them in front of myself and Molly me. “Can’t I have a normal glass?” I protested. “If you can’t have it when Jeremiah is here then you can’t have it when he isn’t.” she said as she started cracking eggs to make breakfast. “I’m going to show you that Molly is ready to be a big girl and potty train her, or you, you know what I mean, and you’re going to see that everything runs smoothly with your hot, smart, capable daughter at the wheel.” she explained. I sighed and watched Molly me pick up her sippy cup with both hands and lean back in her chair to guzzle her juice and picked up my own sippy cup and started sucking juice down, secretly relieved that Beckah wasn’t planning to humiliate me while I was stuck in Molly’s body, I just had to hope that I didn’t have to do anything to humiliating to pass off that I was Molly to Jeremiah. To Be Continued…

Chapter Three “Ella Smith 1870-1907” “Hello, Ms. Smith.” the slightly pudgy woman with the rosy cheeks and broad smile that looked like it might actually be causing her physical pain with how wide it was chirped happily from behind her desk, “My name is Franny Feldstein and I will be your case worker.” she explained. I stared at her dumbly for a moment, “I’m sorry, case worker for what, Ma’am?” I asked. She made a pitying head tilt and pout, “Oh, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, honey, but you’re no longer living.” she said, her bright demeanor dimming to something closer to reverence before shifting back to bright and perky, “But, on the bright side, if we can get you to come to terms with your passing, you’re eligible to be a case worker like me!” she explained. I looked down at myself and yelped, my arm moving to cover my bare breasts and my hand shooting between my thighs to cover the rest of my indecency, “Why am I nude?!” I exclaimed, the last word coming out in a whisper in case anyone else were around to hear that I couldn’t see. “Well, what’s the last thing you remember?” she asked me. My memory was fuzzy, images swirling in my head with no rhyme or reason to them, but when I closed my eyes they became clearer. “I was at the-” I hesitated. “Dear, I already know everything that happened, so there’s no reason to be shy.” I heard her say, the smile in her voice like a warm hug that also kind of made you feel ill at ease. I nodded, “I was at the brothel.” I told her, feeling no shame or embarrassment in revealing the truth freely, no hotness in my ears or cheeks and no chewing of my lower lip. “I’m at the brothel at least once a week.” I continued, hearing the clacking of typewriter keys and agreeable noises from Franny. “What do you do at the brothel?” she asked. “Delilah works at the brothel.” I said, the fiery redhead filling my mental image. “She and I have known each other for a number of years and we have a sort of,” I couldn’t quite decide, now that I had to put a word to it, what Delilah and I actually were to one another, “unique relationship.” I finally decided. More clacking. “What were you and Delilah doing at the brothel?” her cheerfully toothy grinned words asked. Again, the lack of apprehension and shame I was feeling was thrilling to me, “I was nursing from her breasts.” I said. “She works at the brothel, but she was with child and hasn’t gotten back to work quite yet, but the manager of the brothel wouldn’t let her keep the baby and she was complaining about her breasts aching on account of how full they were with milk.” I explained. “We started playing a game where I was her baby and she was holding my head in her arms and letting me drink her milk.” I continued. The rapid fire clacking of the typewriter continued. “I’d emptied one breast and was working on the other when she started touching me in my lower parts and, as I said, she and I have a unique relationship, so I spread my legs to give her better space to work her magic,” I explained, and then my mental image shifted and nothing happy or good was happening, “I knocked the table with the oil lamp on it with my leg when she hit a particularly good spot and then the room was filled with smoke and fire.” I said, my voice catching in my throat as the image of Delilah yanking me from her breast and shoving me away from her so she could hurry to the door, the force of her shove sending me sprawling to the floor inches from the flames. “Ella.” Franny said softly, her hand on my shoulder, “You don’t need to relive the pain, honey.” she said softly, her eyes looking into mine with sympathy when I opened them. “Did Delilah get out safely?” I asked. Franny smiled, less so than she had been, but still a patented Franny Feldstein smile, “That’s not something you need to worry about, dear, all you need to do is tell me honestly that you accept your passing on and feel no need to concern yourself with your life as it was or the people in it.” she said, almost sounding like she was reading the words she was saying aloud with how practiced and polished they were. I was silent for a moment, thinking about what she wanted of me and nodded my agreement, “I accept that I’m dead, Ms. Feldstein, and I have no concern about my life or the people in it.” I lied. ********* I didn’t think my lie would work, I thought the ever chipper and sweet Franny would know immediately and chastise me and tell me I’d blown my chance to be a case worker like her, but she didn’t and I was whisked away to orientation for new case workers where I got a mental upgrade so I knew everything that had happened in the span of human history up to the date of my death and kept learning new things as they happened in the mortal world. I was given a living space far larger than the room I died in, the room that I secretly shared with Delilah and slipped out the window of before the man running the brothel came to rouse the women. I knew I could furnish the living area any way I wanted, but I lacked inspiration, and my room was little more than a ratty mattress and a candle on a stand in a basin of water for however long it was until Mira showed up at my door. ********** “Don’t look so shocked.” was all she said as she clicked past me into my living area. “God, isn’t this depressing.” she said as she surveyed my bare room. “When did you-” I started to ask, “I mean, how did you-” I tried again. She sighed, “None of your concern.” she said flatly, “I’m here because I’ve been appointed Overseer of Grid Eight Thousand Four Hundred and Twelve, and that makes me your boss.” she continued, “When I learned that you were one of my caseworkers, I looked at your file and decided I’d come directly to the source for answers to the questions I have.” she said. “Questions about what?” I asked. “Well, since I had little information aside from the fact that you died in a fire in a brothel, I wanted to know more and learned that you were romantically involved with a whore there.” she said, her eyes staring at me intently. “Don’t call her that.” I said petulantly. She smirked, “What should I call a woman that commits carnal acts with men for money?” she asked. I knew what I called her, but that never made it into the report because I’d only thought it but never said it out loud, “Delilah will be fine.” I said coldly. She shook her head, “I blame myself for your behavior, you know.” she said, “Mother dying when you were barely three, and then that horrible business with Father.” she added. “You were broken for such a long time and I didn’t do enough to snap you out of it and it stained you and turned you into a deviant.” she explained. I gritted my teeth, “I wasn’t a deviant, I was lonely.” I hissed. She almost looked sympathetic, “Lonely because you wanted what no one in their right mind would give you.” she said bluntly, “Admit it, some part of you wanted to go back to that period of time after Father died when you had me taking care of your every need.” she commanded. I shook my head, “No, I wanted to be loved and you-” I stopped. “Say it.” she ordered. I sighed, “You gave up on me and left me with people that didn’t care about me, didn’t love me, and treated me like there was something wrong with me.” I said wearily. “A grown woman incapable of caring for herself is a woman with something wrong with her.” she said, “You were a burden, and it pains me to say that, but your constant need to be looked after and cared for was smothering me and I needed to get away and find a life of my own and thrive.” she explained. “Did you?” I asked. She nodded, “I married and had three children.” she told me. I forced a smile, “I died in a brothel fire because a woman I loved and called ‘Mama’ pleasured me so well with her fingers while I sucked the milk from her tits that I accidentally kicked over the table with the oil lamp on it.” I said sadly, “I guess we both lived exciting lives.” I added. “That’s what I mean, Ella, you needed a mother and I wasn’t able to be that for you.” she said, “I tried my best, but caring for an eleven year old that wets and soils herself and refuses to stop sucking her thumb, that cries for everything rather than speak is exhausting.” she explained. I nodded and swallowed my rage down, “You remember what made me that way, you only saw Father for a moment after he fell off the roof,” I started, hating the feeling of wanting and needing to cry but being unable to, “he landed a foot away from me, his blood sprayed out onto my face and dress and I had to listen to his dying breath croak out of the side of his neck as my brain tried to come to terms that my Father looked like a snail with no shell all curled up on himself with his head turned the wrong way around and his eyes staring at me but not seeing me.” I said, “So, I am forever apologetic that my traumatic experience wasn’t part of your grand design for a happy life, but fuck you, Mira.” I spat. She cleared her throat, “You’ve been doing excellent work, Ella.” she said, moving past me toward the door with hurried clicks of her heels, “I do have concerns that you’re slightly more attached to your clients than you should be, but you’re still doing an excellent job.” she added before she opened the door and slipped through it, shutting it gently behind her. ********* After Mira’s first visit, I redecorated, her visit inspiring me to explore the limitless potential the ability to create something from nothing could afford. The more I thought about my past and my relationship with Delilah, and Mira herself, the younger the furniture and decoration became until the space was suitable for an infant my size and shape to make me feel small when I lay in the crib or the pram or the playpen, and I made sure that I was securely pinned into enough layers of toweling diapers to make walking an awkward waddle until I gave up and merely crawled everywhere in my living space. Work continued normally, cases resolving without issue and downtime spent in a blissful baby paradise of my own making, and then I met Lucy and discovered the one thing I’d been missing, the key ingredient in my otherwise perfect afterlife, a playmate. ********* D.E.A.T.H. has a regular competition for the case workers and reapers to build morale and foster interdepartmental teamwork where the case worker with the highest successful close rate and the reaper with the highest successful transition rate get to meet and spend some time together, and Lucy and I just happened to be the winners shortly after I’d decided that my afterlife was going to be far more focused on the little side of me that had always been there but had never truly been nurtured. Lucy had shown up to the meeting in an adorable sun dress, white with little daisies adorning it her little feet encased in frilly white ankle socks and black, patent leather shoes secured with a strap over top of her feet. She was wearing her hair in tight braids at that time, the top of her head sprouting dozens of the lovely looking strands of woven hair. I adored her the moment I saw her, and inadvertently came off kind of crazy. “Oh, my goodness, aren’t you just precious!” I gushed, reaching out to feel the thin, soft fabric of the sleeve of her dress. “How old are you, sweetie?” I asked in the tone one reserves for small children you may not expect to be able to accurately answer the question. She shifted her weight to one side to pull her sleeve free of me and looked up with annoyance, “Well, I was four when I died, but that was about sixty years ago, so, old enough for you to not talk to me like that.” she said. I was mortified, deathly afraid that I’d ruined a potential friendship in a matter of seconds, “I am so sorry, I meant no disrespect, I-” I started to stammer out an apology before a smile broke out on her face. “I’m joking.” she said simply. “I mean, I don’t like it when people just assume I’m a child because I look like one and dress like one, but I’ve gotten it enough in my time to understand the reaction.” she explained. I sighed in relief, “I really am sorry, I just love the fact that you’re comfortable dressing that way.” I said. She gave a non committal shrug, “This is how girls my age dress.” she said simply, “I tried the whole ‘business ready’ thing, but I do not look this cute in a dress meant for women in the secretary pool.” she explained. “It just feels more right to me to dress like a four year old.” she added. I was so jealous I thought for sure she’d ask why my eyes were green all of a sudden, “Do you wear diapers?” I blurted out suddenly, too slow of brain to keep the words from erupting from my mouth. She raised an eyebrow, “Never gotten that one before.” she said, “No.” she quickly added, “Do you?” she asked, a small smirk on her face. We’re free to be open and honest about who we are in the afterlife, there aren’t societal standards and biases to navigate, there’s no pressure to hide your weirdness if you don’t want to because everyone is what they are and everyone is dead and no one cares because the job is the only thing you have going on, so I pushed my will to change my modest, professional attire to match Lucy’s, but with a thick diaper pinned around my waist peeking out beneath the hem of my new dress. Lucy’s eyes went wide and her smile seemed to grow in slow motion as she looked me up and down and lifted the hem of my dress to see my diapers, “Well, you’re not as cute as me, but damn if you don’t have a natural cuteness.” she said. “It’s not silly looking?” I asked. She shook her head, her braids softly swaying and lightly pattering against her head, “Did I expect to see a grown woman dressed identically to me but with great big diapers on today?” she asked, “No.” she answered, “But that doesn’t mean that you’re not really cute dressed like that.” she added. “Thank you.” I said softly. “I was,” I started to say, “When I was alive I had a woman that I had feelings for and I didn’t realize that the way I felt when I was with her was less about her and more about me and who I am, now that I have the ability to dress however I want and have anything I want, I’ve been exploring that part of me.” I explained. Lucy listened to me and nodded, “When I was alive I was just a kid, I didn’t think about life and death and stuff, just having fun with my sisters and being a good girl for my mama,” she said, her voice somber, “being here gives you insight into everything that comes with living a life and it’s up to you if you want to be resentful on missing out on it or embrace it in any way you can and try and be happy.” she explained. I smiled at her, “I have dolls if you’d like to come to my place and play.” I offered. She giggled and nodded, “You know, I was worried about who I was going to meet today.” she said, “I was sure I was going to have to fake my way through an awkward get together and go back to my normal routine with nothing to show for it.” she explained. “But?” I pushed, my smile growing. She took a spot beside me and interlocked her little hand in mine, “But, I think maybe I’ve made my first friend in this place.” she said, looking up at me with a smile to match my own. ********* Lucy and I became best friends quite quickly after that meeting, we played with my dolls back at my place and she admired my nursery and insisted I show her all my outfits and, as it turns out, she got some ideas for new outfits of her own based on some of the things I showed her, confessing that she hadn’t considered dressing younger than her apparent four years, but was in love with how much cuter the rompers and toddler dresses made her look. As time went on, the world of the living advanced and invented, and because we at D.E.A.T.H. need to be knowledgeable about the world of the living to deal with the arriving dead, I became aware of disposable diapers and replaced my collection of cloth ones with them. The sound they made when I crawled around was intoxicating, the subtle rustle of plastic filling my ears made me wish I wasn’t dead so I could more appropriately explore the feelings I had but that had evaporated when my heart stopped beating. It was the 80’s on Earth, and I had a case, a lovely old lady that calmly accepted her passing, sharing sweet anecdotes about being with her husband again, the usual everyday circumstances I experienced, but we’d gotten some new technology to use that allowed us to see the world of the living, a way to show the recently deceased how their family and friends were handling their death should the need arise, and the old woman had mentioned that she was worried about her granddaughter, Allison, so we peeked in on her to allay her fears and she passed on shortly after, leaving me with a front row seat to Allison’s life. Allison had hair like a waterfall on fire and skin so pale she seemed like a China doll rather than a living breathing person, and I fell instantly in love with her despite my best intentions. The rule given to us when we got the upgraded technology was that we weren’t to use it for anything but an individual case, but I couldn’t help myself, this young woman was so perfect and beautiful that I found myself sitting and staring at her as she went about her normal daily routine. When Allison went grocery shopping, I was on the aisle with her, imagining conversations about cereal as I slipped my hand in her back pocket and she put her arm around me, when she was alone in her bed at night I imagined sneaking below the covers to gently wake her with kisses and soft licks to her most delicate flesh. I imagined fantasy scenarios where she was a caregiver to me as Delilah had been, my lips around her perfect, pink nipples as she lightly caressed the front of my diaper, urging me to use it for her, I imagined scenarios where she replaced Lucy as my playmate and we crawled around in our diapers giggling like silly babies before the realization that we were women in love suddenly struck us and we ravaged one another on the floor beside our used and discarded diapers. Allison eventually found a boyfriend, and I toyed with the fantasy of being in my crib while she and him had sex in her room, but it didn’t bring me the same happiness as the fantasy of being with her myself did. Mira snapping her fingers in my face brought me out of one of my daydreams one day in her office, she tended to be more theatrical than I cared for, so while she sat and built ambiance or dread in me or whatever she was doing it for, I was imagining a bath with Allison that was leaning toward making us more dirty than clean, “I assume you’re thinking of that girl you’ve been spying on.” Mira said disapprovingly. I snapped to attention and gawked up at her stupidly. “Did you really think you could log,” she went to her desk and picked up a paper, read it and looked up at me in disgust, “Seventeen thousand hours, Ella!” she shouted, slamming the paper down, “Seventeen thousand hours watching this woman!” she repeated, “What possible reason could you have for spending that much time watching a living woman?” she asked. “She’s beautiful.” I said softly, my eyes on the floor like a chastised child. “Look at me when you speak to me, Ella!” she snapped. My head shot up and I looked at her as she asked, “She’s beautiful and I love her!” I yelled. Mira sighed heavily and massaged the non existent headache in her temples, “Here’s what’s going to happen,” she said calmly, “you’re going to stop watching her, and forget she exists, am I understood?” she asked. “No!” I snapped, “What harm am I doing by watching her?!” I shouted. “It’s not like she knows I’m watching her!” I added. Mira shook her head, “Why are you such a shortsighted child?!” she growled in frustration. “You falling in love with her makes you want to be with her, right?” she asked. I nodded sheepishly. “Okay, so if you’re dead and she’s not then that’s a pretty big wedge between you, right?” she asked. As far as relationship hurdles go, that was a big one. I nodded again. “So, your options become, she dies so you’re with her here, or you become a ghost to be with her there, and neither of those things are healthy to strive for.” she explained. I opened my mouth to argue. “No!” she snapped. My mouth closed instantly. “Repeat after me,” she commanded firmly, “I, Ella Smith,” she said. I sighed, “I, Ella Smith,” I repeated joylessly. “Will listen to my boss and older sister, Mira,” she continued. “Will listen to my boss and older sister, Mira,” I repeated after a moment of hesitation. “and promise to stop watching Allison Jefferson and forget about her and never, ever, do something as stupid and reckless as what I’ve been doing.” she concluded, looking at me expectantly with her arms folded across her chest. “and promise to stop watching Allison Jefferson and forget about her and never, ever, do something as stupid and reckless as what I’ve been doing.” I repeated, my spirit withering like a flower in the desert as the words left my lips. Mira’s heels clicked on the floor as she came to me and knelt down, her hands going up to my cheeks to hold them softly, “I know how hard it is to be lonely here.” she said softly, “I know how frustrating it is to not be able to,” she hesitated, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed, “I miss my husband and being able to enjoy his touch.” she said, pivoting to a more palatable way of saying she was horned up as much as her degenerate sister, “This thing with Allison is not the way to make those feeling go away for you, sweetheart.” she said, her tone changing to one I hadn’t heard since I was a young girl, a tone of sisterly love. I looked into her eyes, wishing crying was something I could do, “Why can’t you be this nice to me all the time?” I asked quietly. She sighed softly and kissed my forehead before she stood up and adjusted her outfit to be smooth and professional looking once more, “Because it’s my job here to make sure you do your job,” she said, clip clopping back to her seat, “not be your mother and baby you.” she said coldly. I scoffed and stood up, “For the record,” I said softly, “All I wanted was for you to be a compassionate fucking human being, Mira, blood aside, just go five fucking minutes without being an icy bitch to me.” I snapped before leaving her office. To Be Continued…

Yeah, we're going both feet into the deep end, no half measures here! Thank you! I'm really excited about what I've got planned with this one! We'll see a lot more of Lucy, and learn more about Ella and Mira's past and maybe get a better understanding of why those two are so adverse to one another, specifically, why Mira is so dang hard on Ella.

Chapter Two “Karen Twill 1970-2022” Everyone handles being dead differently, much the same way that everyone handles living their lives differently, I suppose. In my time as a case worker for D.E.A.T.H. I’d the full spectrum of emotions and handled them in a professional manner as I was expected to, but Karen Twill had genuinely surprised me with the sheer force of her namesake’s power was embedded into her immortal soul. The fifty two year old former accounting manager glared at me through narrowed eyes above her antique looking librarian glasses, her mouth puckered into a permanent sour asshole of rage that only opened long enough to spew the hateful shit she came up with or empty threats she didn’t even understand were ridiculous and hollow. She’d begun our meeting with a slew of racist and homophobic jabs about my appearance, despite my being as pale of complexion as her and with zero evidence that I was gay beyond what she referred to as a “fugly, butchy dyke haircut”, which is insane because my hair is stunning and I look like an enchanted fucking pixie that radiates beauty and grace. After her opening salvo, I tried to calm her down and was silenced by that condescending open palm bullshit that women that are such See You Next Tuesday’s that they think everyone in a five mile radius can be silenced by the mere raising of their hand do before she asked to speak to my manager, giving me the final space on my “Twat Bingo” card. “Ms. Twill, there isn’t a managerial structure like the one that exists in the world of the living.” I informed her, politely but clearly fighting every urge to make her somehow deader than she was, “In this office, I AM the manager, and if you don’t like that, I am sorry, but nothing is going to change that circumstance.” I explained. Her aura was dark when she arrived, shriveled and full of unchecked aggression and insecurity, the kind of dried plum looking thing that made me pity anyone with the misfortune of knowing her, but now it was writhing with vitriol the likes of which I’d yet to see in all my time doing this job. “All you need to do is send me back so I can fix everything.” she said simply, “Surely that’s not too difficult a task, even for someone as simple as you, dear.” she said with a gross kind of sweetness in her voice. I smiled at her and stood up slowly, looking at her as I did, drinking in the sight of her. “Karen,” I began. “Ms. Twill will be fine.” she sneered. I flashed my teeth with my next smile, “Karen,” I repeated pleasantly, “do you know what I see when I look at you?” I asked rhetorically as I stepped around my desk and sat on the edge of it, fully aware that I was aping Mira’s own authoritative mannerisms, “I see a woman that failed.” I told her. “I see a woman that failed to give in to temptation and decided to cut corners to better herself by using her position to steal from the company she worked at under the guise of some misguided sense of being owed for years of service without recognition.” I said, rising from the desk to walk alongside of her, “I see a woman that failed to be any better a criminal than she was a worker resulting in her being, quite easily, caught.” I said, running my index finger along her bare shoulder. She shuddered and stomped her foot, though without shoes and socks, she merely slapped the linoleum of my office in a comically childish display of her immaturity, “I will not sit here and-” she started. “You will!” I snapped, pressing her back down into the chair with ease as she angrily rose. “I see a woman that was such a failure at socialization that she missed all the red flags when the pretty little intern struck up a sudden friendship with her completely out of the blue almost immediately after you started siphoning money from the company.” I continued, my hands lightly resting on her shoulders as I bent down as Mira had done with me and whispered into her ear, “I see a woman so weak willed that she allowed a girl half her age to reduce her to nothing more than a petulant toddler in a matter of days.” I softly hissed, feeling a sense of satisfaction when Karen Twill’s aura shrank, cowering around her in the face of the truth I was speaking about her. “She tricked me!” she whined, her facade broken under my assault. I stood and walked around the other side of her clucking my tongue softly, “Pathetic.” I said simply as I shook my head at her, “All that girl did was pretend to like you.” I told her, “Do you know that she told the secretarial pool all about what a sad, lonely old woman you were?” I asked, “Her words.” I added. Karen kept her eyes glued to the floor as her aura diminished further. I lifted her chin with a crooked finger so she was looking up at me, “I know that you wanted her.” I told her, delighting in how wide her eyes went. “I-I-I-” she stammered. I pressed my finger to her lips and made a shushing sound, “It’s alright, Karen, being gay is a beautiful thing.” I told her. “You say such evil and hateful things about the people of the LGBTQ+ community and other races and religions and creeds, yet you spent every night alone imagining this, admittedly, very hot little Latina girl being the dominant force in your love making.” I said. “You can’t know that!” she whined. I scoffed, “Can’t I?” I asked. “I know that eleven year old Karen got beat so hard with her Daddy’s belt for kissing the little Black boy down the street that she cracked a tooth biting down so hard from the pain.” I told her, “I know that nineteen year old Karen got drunk and went down on a Muslim girl and thought she might be in love until her clique of Beige Becky’s decided to target the poor girl for wearing a Hijab and pathetic, weak willed Karen joined in.” I continued. “Stop!” she shouted. “No!” I snapped, “You have lived a life of weakness, following the narrow minded crowd because it was easier than standing up for yourself and your feelings! You’ve immersed yourself in willing ignorance and backwards thinking for so long that you genuinely agree with ideals that would set women and minorities and gay rights back hundreds of years, and for what?!” I screamed. She was shaking, her aura barely a sliver around her, “It’s not like that!” she whined. I grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up from the chair as I materialized a full length mirror beside us, turning her to face it, “What do you see?” I spat. She tried to turn away but I held her in place by her arms, whispering into her ear once more. “I see a woman that got what she truly wanted.” I hissed, “I see a woman that tore down other women and sided with ideals about their subservience to men, that accepted the belief that women were weaker creatures and allowed herself to be infantilized because she believed it’s what she deserved for having a uterus.” I said, stepping away from her and looking at her in the mirror’s reflection with disgust, “The fact that all the way until she pulled out the diaper bag you made excuses for why it was completely acceptable for her to command you to strip down in a conference room is laughably sad, but the fact that all it took was a weak spanking to cow you into becoming,” I gestured head to toe in her direction, “this.” I said with disgust. Her aura flickered and vanished, signaling that I’d broken her spirit completely. “You lived a life tearing others down and being an entitled brat and I only wish you hadn’t died today because having to live the rest of your life knowing how pathetic you are and how easily you were brought to heel would’ve been very satisfying to have seen.” I told her. “You’re going to a very bad place, Karen, somewhere filled with people as ugly inside as you and with things as ugly outside as you are inside.” I added. She looked up at me in the mirror, “There’s nothing I can do to not go there?” she asked. I shook my head, “All you can do is conduct yourself with more dignity than you had in life and accept your fate and take your medicine.” I told her, using the words of her abusive father. She nodded softly, “I’m sorry.” she said. I shrugged, “Too little, too late.” I told her coldly. “I know, but if any of this goes on record, I am sorry for how I lived my life.” she said before she was unceremoniously swallowed into the floor. I sighed and sent the mirror away before returning to my desk, the feelings inside me not at all pleasant. ********* Mira looked at me disapprovingly. “I know, alright.” I said, arms folded in front of my chest in the most rebellious teenager pose I could manage. “Oh, you know that you broke a dozen rules with Karen Twill?” she asked. “Or do you know that the ice you’re on is so thin I could read the transcript of the appalling things you said to that woman through it?” she asked. I sat up in a huff, “Look, she wouldn’t have accepted anything the way she was acting, all I did was break her will and send her on her way, what’s the problem?” I asked. Mira sighed and sat back in her chair, “You understand the concept of how the hierarchy of this place works, right?” she asked, “Spirit comes to you, you sort them out so they don’t go back to Earth as a ghost, I sign off on the report to certify that you followed protocol and that report continues up the chain until The Powers That Be see it and sign off on it.” she explained, “If you bully and harass a spirit into submission, that’s not acceptance, that’s obedience and goes against their free will.” she added. I rolled my eyes, “And?” I scoffed, “What, is Karen Twill going to get a second chance at life because of me?” I asked incredulously. Mira said nothing but merely looked at me for a moment, “She’s being reincarnated as a way of apologizing for your handling of her case.” she said flatly. I stood up and slammed my hands on the desk, “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I shouted. The room grew darker and colder as Mira slowly rose to her feet, somehow enormous seeming in her stature as she looked down at me, “Sit.” she said simply. I didn’t realize I was backing up until the backs of my knees hit the chair I’d been sitting in and I plopped down onto it, unable to take my eyes off my now supremely imposing sister. Her heels didn’t click as she moved around the desk, she seemed to float past it and into the space in front of me, looking down on me like an angry parent would a disobedient child, “The Powers That Be have decided, and I agree, that in light of your recent attitude and handling of your cases, you’re to be suspended from case work duty until such time as you are able to successfully prove you’re able to do your job in accordance with the rules.” she explained. I stared up at her in disbelief, “Suspension?” I asked. She nodded. “We’ve arranged for your spirit to be placed into a new life on Earth.” she said, “That life will end in three and a half years on Earth, you have until the date of expiration to prove you’re able to do this job without breaking the rules.” she explained. “What if I can’t?” I asked timidly, my mind reeling from the insanity of the situation. She knelt down in front of me and placed her hands on my thighs gently, her eyes locked on mine, the dark brown of them seeming almost black and appearing to swirl with power and authority I’d never seen in her, “If you can’t, then your spirit will be voided out in the transfer and you’ll cease to exist.” she said. The room lightened and her eyes returned to normal, “Don’t let that happen.” she said, her tone changing to one of sympathy and sincerity before she stood up, “Your new body will be born in two days, you have until then to say whatever goodbyes you need to and clean out your living area and office.” she added. “Mira, please, there has to be some-” I started, stopping when she turned back around halfway back to her chair. “No.” she said, her voice tinged with sadness, “I tried to tell you you weren’t doing things right, I tried being tough with you and you bucked, I tried praising you when you did well and you were preoccupied and dismissive, I’ve tried to get you to understand that I’m not your enemy, but you have such a chip on your shoulder because of what happened between us in life that you can’t see that we’re not those people anymore.” she explained. “Just give me another chance, I promise I can do this, you’ve seen me do it!” I pleaded. She shook her head, “It’s out of my hands now.” she said sadly, “If you can’t do this and this is the last time we talk, know that I love you and take no pleasure in seeing this happen to you.” she said, going to the window to look out, “Good luck, Ella.” she said, her voice breaking before she managed to finish. ********* I sat in my empty living space after I numbly left Mira’s office, the benefits of being able to make things appear and disappear at will made cleaning out the space nearly instantaneous. I found a corner and sat in it with my knees pulled up to my chest, hugging my legs as I softly rocked to keep myself from having a full blown breakdown. Lucy was in front of me without me noticing she’d come in, her little hands on my shoulders, her chocolate eyes looking at me pityingly, “I came as soon as I heard.” she said softly. I stared into her eyes absently, “Who told you?” I asked. She lowered herself to her knees, “Word travels fast.” she said. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. I shook my head, “Mira said it’s done.” I told her. I explained everything to her, stopping frequently to think about what was going to happen to me, scared for the first time since I’d died, the feeling foreign and almost new to me given the amount of time since I’d last experienced it. Lucy did what she did best, hugged me and listened when I spoke and doted on me when I didn’t. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright?” she asked. “I can visit you as often as I can and keep you focused on what you need to do.” she explained. I looked up into her eyes, closing mine after a moment of contact, “I’m scared, Lucy.” I confessed. I felt her lips on my forehead and her fingers running through my hair, “I know, honey, but you can do this.” she whispered, “You’re the strongest woman I know.” she added, smiling at me when I opened my eyes. “I’m not strong, Lucy,” I said sadly, the fight drained from me before a sudden fit of laughter escaped me, startling the little girl holding my head in her lap, “I’m gonna be a baby again.” I said between fits of nearly hysterical giggles, “How fucking ironic is that?” I asked. She was quiet, letting me work through the bout of inappropriate laughter as she stroked my hair, “Think of it as the vacation you’ve always wanted but never had the chance to take.” she offered. “Don’t forget about me, okay?” I asked her after a long stretch of silence between the two of us. She smiled at me and kissed my forehead once more, “I could never forget you, Ella.” she said, sadness clinging to her words, “All I need you to do is stay focused and do what you need to do to so you can come back to me and I can smother you with all the kisses and cuddles a little sister could ask for.” she said, her voice quavering. I nodded softly and smiled up at her weakly, opening my mouth to say something but closing it again after a moment, my eyes meeting with hers and saying what I couldn’t manage to with my words. She nodded, “I know, honey.” she said, “I know.” she repeated, her little arms wrapping around me to hug me tightly. To Be Continued…

Thank you, I really hope you do!

One “Gavin Altmier 2002-2022” When you die, your file comes to someone like me. Said file contains everything about you, and I mean everything. Gavin Altmier, the man seated in the chair in front of my desk in his absolutely precious onesie designed to make him look like a cuddly little teddy bear, complete with a hood adorned with tiny little round ears on top all in a lovely shade of “Lightly Spanked Bottom” pink, doesn’t know that I know about the booger wall he kept when he was ages nine through twelve, nor does he know that I know that his first masturbatory experience was to a female cartoon rabbit that played basketball, and he certainly doesn’t know that I know all about the things he’d do in his crib after his loving mother put him to bed every night at seven thirty on the dot. “Gavin, I’d like you to tell me what you think is happening right now.” I said calmly. He shrugged, the motion losing a lot of its rebellious intent with his shoulder up near his ears and his chin practically embedded in his chest, “I think I died.” he said softly. I nodded, “Sadly, you did, honey.” I said with total sincerity. “How?” he asked. “Well, I handle cases where someone passes away due to embarrassment.” I responded, watching him closely for any sign that he was going to turn emotional on me. He nodded, “Makes sense.” he said, his hands moving up and down on either side of his body as if to call attention to his outfit, as if such a thing was required. “Would you like to tell me what happened?” I asked. “Don’t you already know?” he snottily shot back. I nodded, “I do, but I find that it helps the people in your position to accept the truth and gravity of their situation if they share their recollection with me.” I explained. “But, I do have video and it says in your file, so we can watch together, or I can read it to you, or you can tell me in your own words so I can compare your account to the information I have.” I added. He sighed, his fingers absently fiddling with the bulb of the pacifier clipped to the chest of his onesie, “I flunked out of college about a year ago,” he said without looking up at me, “I had nowhere to live and no job, so I moved back into my mom’s house and-” he stopped and looked up at me, “This is too hard, you do it.” he said, slumping in his chair in defeat. I stood up from my chair, file in hand and got an idea, “Would it make it easier if I read it to you like a bedtime story?” I asked him, my voice slipping into my patent pending sweet babysitter that all the little ones love tone. He looked up at me in surprise and then back down as he nodded, his shame practically radiating off of him. I willed a great big rocking chair into existence in the corner behind him and gently took his hand in mine as I helped him to his feet and led him over to it, taking my seat before gently pulling him onto my lap, his thick diaper squishing against my thigh as I moved him into a comfortable position, his back nestled against my shoulder and my arm around his middle, my hand savoring the soft fur of his onesie as I took his pacifier and raised it to his lips, smiling as he took it into his mouth without resistance, I opened the file and thought for a moment how I wanted to approach this for maximum success. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome young prince that lived with his very protective mother, the queen.” I began in my babysitter voice, “The queen loved the prince very much, but never saw him as anything but her sweet baby, even when he became a man and went away to college far away from the castle he grew up in.” I read, feeling him relax against me as he softly nursed his pacifier. “When the queen would talk to the prince on the telephone, she would sew seeds of doubt in his mind about whether he was grown up enough to handle life away from her, and the prince didn’t realize that all of this talk subconsciously made him doubt himself and lose focus on his studies until he failed out of college and believed that the queen had been right all along.” I read. I felt him squirm but he made no effort to speak or leave his spot on my lap. “When the prince moved back into the queen’s castle, he found that all the stress and worry about failing out of school and disappointing the queen made him wet the bed, first once every nights, then nightly, and then he found himself wetting during the day as well.” I read, the rustle of his diaper as he squirmed filling the space around us, “The queen berated the prince, calling him names like ‘baby’ and ‘sissy’, threatening him with diapers rather than helping him deal with his problem by taking him to a doctor or someone he could talk to about what he was feeling.” I read, gently hugging him as I began to softly rock the chair. “What the prince didn’t know, was that the queen had been sneaking into his room at night and placing his hand in warm water until he wet, and that the stress of wetting the bed in addition to everything else he was dealing with made his bladder quite overactive, leading to his daytime accidents.” I told him. He was quiet except for the soft sound of his mouth working the pacifier, but his aura was fluttering softly. “Gavin, do you want me to keep going?” I asked. He nodded softly, his aura calming when I spoke to him. I nodded softly and gently rubbed his stomach as I continued, “The queen told the prince that since he was such a great failure at adulthood, so much so that he couldn’t even manage to keep his bed and pants dry, that she was going to reclaim him as her baby and protect him from the big scary world outside of her castle.” I read. He shuddered softly, the rhythmic bobbing of his pacifier between his lips increasing. I hugged him with the arm I was holding him with, “I know, honey.” I said softly, smiling as he rested his head against me so that the top of his head was resting under my chin. “The queen wasted no time in transforming the prince’s room into a nursery like the one he’d spent his infancy in, she replaced every stitch of clothing he owned with babyish outfits of various types, but the prince was surprised to find that not a single article of the clothing she purchased was, in his opinion, meant for a boy, but rather his closet was stuffed with dresses of varying degrees of frill and femininity and pastel pinks and purples and yellows with flowers and butterflies and fairies on them.” I read. “Ma’am?” he asked in a voice so small it actually shocked me to hear it. I shifted to help him sit up so he could look at me, “Yes, Gavin?” I asked. His aura fluttered softly once more, but not in a way I expected it would, I’ve seen agitated auras, there’s a flow to it that lets you know the person is upset, like a brightly colored animal warns you of its venomous threat, Gavin’s aura was almost calm, the flow like an elegant dance around him as he looked up at me, “Does the story say what I was thinking?” he asked timidly. I nodded softly, “It does, but if you’d like to tell me what you were thinking I’d be happy to listen to you.” I told him sincerely. He nodded softly, not really in agreement with my statement, but more to himself to give permission to open up to me. “I was really scared that Mommy,” he hesitated but didn’t try and correct himself, “that she was really mad at me for failing at school and being a disappointment and stuff, but when I saw the nursery and all the clothes I knew that she still loved me and wanted to take care of me and help me.” he explained. My heart ached for him, even in death he was still buying into his mother’s manipulation and distortion of reality. “So you were okay with all the baby girl clothes and not being a grownup anymore?” I asked. He nodded softly, this time to confirm the truth of my statement. “I know I’m a boy, but when she held up the first outfit she showed me, her face was happier than I’d seen her in a long time and I figured that they’re just clothes so it shouldn’t matter if they’re meant for a boy or a girl, all that mattered was she loved me and wasn’t mad.” he explained. “So you agreed to be her baby again and to be a girl instead of a boy?” I asked. He nodded, a small smile sneaking across his lips. “When she was done making all my big boy hair go away and got me into a diaper and dressed up in my new clothes, she stood me in front of the mirror and told me what a pretty little girl I was and how happy she was to have such an adorable daughter.” he explained. “And that made you very happy, didn’t it?” I asked. He nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” he answered politely. “Do you want to tell me more about what happened after that, or do you want me to continue the story?” I asked. He snuggled back against me and returned his pacifier to his mouth, “You tell it for a bit, please and thank you.” he mumbled quietly. I kissed the top of his head and resumed the rocking as I picked up where he’d left off in the story. “The new little princess found that she was quite happy being the queen’s baby doll and fell quickly and obediently into her new role, following the queen’s rules without resistance, but the queen soon discovered that the princess was engaging in naughty, adult activities in her crib after she was put to bed and took steps to ensure the princess would no longer be able to enjoy such activities going forward.” I read. His hands absently moved to his crotch as I read. “The queen began to notice that the princess was frequently fussy after being placed in chastity, but she reassured the princess that good girls that behaved themselves were rewarded, and the princess resolved to be on her best behavior going forward in the hopes that her reward would be the release she was now so cruelly denied.” I continued, noting the agitation in his aura, “Everything okay?” I asked. He shook his head softly, “This is the bad part.” he said quietly. I nodded, “We can take a break if you need to.” I offered. He shook his head, “Mommy says it’s best to rip the Band-aid off quick so it’s only hurty for a little bit.” he explained. I smiled at his bravery, but knew it wasn’t going to help him. “The day the princess had waited for finally came, and the queen gave her a special bottle to put her into a deep sleep, and when the princess woke up she found that there were at least half a dozen grown up princesses standing around her crib looking down at her, giggling softly and cooing at her as she woke up.” I read. “Not princesses.” he said grumpily. “What’s that?” I asked. “They weren’t princesses, they were girls I knew in high school, some I dated and some I wanted to date but didn’t.” he explained, “Mommy called them all up and told them all about what a well behaved baby girl I’d been and asked if they’d like to come over for a playdate and reward me for being a good girl all week.” he added. I set the file down and helped him lay to the side so he was looking up at me, his head resting on my arm and his legs over the arm of the rocking chair, a proper cradling to prepare for the very painful memory he was about to relive, “Take your time, honey.” I said softly as I rocked him. He closed his eyes for a moment and then decided open was better, the crystal blue orbs looking up at me with something like affection hiding in them. “Mommy told me who the girls were and why they were there and then she unlocked my chastity cage and left the room.” he said, his expression growing more and more troubled as he remained silent. I didn’t want to interrupt him, he needed to reach the finish line on his own, but I knew that I could at least make him feel safe and loved in my arms while he endured the pain of recounting his final moments alive, so I began gently rubbing his tummy through the soft fur of his onesie as we rocked together. “They stripped me naked and laughed and took pictures of my peepee.” he said, wanting to use a more adult word but still believing he shouldn’t, “Then they all pulled out big peepee toys from their purses, the one’s big girl’s strap onto themselves and they all spread out in a circle and made me crawl to each of them and kiss and lick them and some forced me to suck on them and I threw up because they pushed too far back and then they told me I was naughty for making a mess and-” he shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, his aura rippling wildly as it grew darker in shade. I reached up and gently stroked his cheek, “You weren’t a naughty girl, honey, they were just too rough with you for your first time doing that.” I reassured him. His eyes opened slowly, his aura relaxing little by little and brightening bit by bit, as he nodded. “One of the girls had set her phone up to record everything but I didn’t know it until the other girl’s phones started going off and they all laughed as they checked them and told me that the girl recording everything was livestreaming what was happening and she had thousands of people watching and I started crying and begging them to stop but then the recording girl said they were gonna put on a fashion show for all my fans.” he explained, saying the words quickly as though they were burning his mouth begging to get out. “Almost done, sweetie.” I reassured him, smiling warmly down at him. He nodded once and smiled back at me before closing his eyes, “They dressed me in my prettiest princess diapers and then put this onesie on me and made me do the teapot song and tell everyone what a pretty baby girl I was and I was crying and they were laughing and reading the comments people were posting, asking me if I wanted to meet the guys that were saying naughty things they wanted to do to me and I got scared that Mommy would think I wanted to be naughty and wanted to do those things, that it had been my idea to make the video and I couldn’t breathe too good and I got dizzy and I lost my balance and fell forward and the last thing I remember seeing was one of the peepees coming toward my face as I fell.” he explained. I nodded softly and leaned down to kiss his forehead, “I’m very proud of you for being so brave and telling that story.” I said, smiling warmly at him. “You know what happened was an accident, right?” I asked. He nodded. “Nobody knew I was gonna fall down like that.” he said, “But they didn’t hafta be so mean to me.” he added, his aura remaining calm. I smiled sympathetically, “I know, but sometimes when people are in a group like that it can be hard to speak up and calm everyone down so that nobody gets hurt like you did.” I told him. “What happened when I fell?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, “You bumped your head, angel.” I lied, sparing the boy the gruesome details about what really happened to him, “But, everyone was very sad and sorry for what happened.” I told him. “Mommy was real sad, huh?” he asked. I nodded softly, my heart aching once more for him. “She was, but you know what?” I asked him. He shook his head. I plucked the pacifier from where it lay between us and gently guided it into his mouth, stroking his cheek one final time as we rocked, “You were such a good girl on Earth that you get to go to a very happy place forever and ever.” I told him. “Will Mommy be there with me?” he asked. “Before you know it, princess.” I lied. He closed his eyes and began to glow brightly in my arms before he vanished in a flash of light, leaving me rocking alone in my office with an emptiness in me that I hadn’t felt for a long time. ********** “Got a minute?” came the little voice of Lucy from the doorway of my office. I shook my head, “Mira summoned me.” I said, the annoyance in my tone barely contained. She nodded softly and looked over at the rocking chair in the corner, “Redecorating?” she asked. “I needed it for a case.” I told her, bustling to shut down my computer and gather my things before I left for my meeting. I really looked at her for the first time since she’d first spoken and I knew something was wrong, “Bad day?” I asked her. She nodded absently and shuffled over to the rocking chair, placing her hand on one of the arms and giving it a tentative rock, “You’re busy.” she reminded me. I stopped what I was doing and went around my desk to her, kneeling beside her and gently taking her little hand in mine, “I have to go to a meeting real quick, but as soon as I’m done we can have this chair in your living room and you can cuddle with me in it and tell me what happened, okay?” I asked her. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to, the strong facade she was putting up cracked at the mere mention of cuddling and she became every bit the little girl she looked like, the decades of knowledge and experience being a reaper melting away in an instant to leave a distressed toddler in need of comfort standing before me. I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head before standing up and going back to my desk to retrieve my things, taking her hand again to lead her from my office, shutting my door behind us, “Be ready for cuddles, okay?” I asked, hugging her tightly and feeling her apprehension when the it came time for the hug to end. “See you soon.” she said glumly, driving a hot knife through my heart at having to make her wait for me for Mira of all things. ********* “Make it quick, Mira.” I said dismissively as I entered her office and took my all too familiar seat in front of her desk. She was standing at the window looking out at the infinite span of cubicles and offices, her shapely figure poured into the severe and professional black dress she wore, the thin red stripe down the side making me think of a black widow spider waiting to bite as she slowly turned, her face contorted into something I hadn’t seen from her in longer than I could remember, a smile. “What’s the rush, little sister?” she asked, her tone dripping with what had to be mock sincerity. “Lucy needs me.” I told her, doing my best to skip past the preamble and get to the point of whatever she’d called the meeting for. She nodded, “So many little one’s need you, don’t they?” she asked. I rolled my eyes, “Look, I didn’t do anything wrong with my case today if that’s what you’re talking about.” I sneered. “True.” she said, pulling out her chair and taking a seat in it, her eyes transfixed on me as she sat back in her seat, “The boy died shockingly bad.” she said. I nodded, “Is there a good way to die?” I asked. “Fair,” she said, thoughtfully nodding, “but ocular impalement with a sex toy?” she said quizzically before shuddering as though it was grotesque to think about, something my hard hearted sister would never do with sincerity. “What. Is. Your. Fucking. Point. Mira?” I asked, speaking each word with purpose and venom as my impatience and need to tend to Lucy filled me with more and more anger and less and less fucks to give. She clucked her tongue softly, “Language, young lady.” she teasingly warned. “Are you drunk?” I asked, knowing she couldn’t be, but genuinely wanting to know what was making her behave so out of character. She pushed her chair back and stood, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked around her desk and came around behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders, a gentle but firm squeeze being applied before she leaned down and whispered into my ear, “You’re such a mystery to me.” she said, “Not quite ready to be a responsible adult, but unwilling to give up playing baby, and yet, today you showed such compassion and sincerity with that boy that I actually saw you as a mother.” she said. I shuddered involuntarily as she spoke, her soft voice in my ear making my non existent blood run cold as I clenched my teeth, “It’s called being a decent human being, Mira, it’s not hard to do, maybe give it a try if you ever manage to pull the stick out of your ass.” I hissed. She stood back up and headed back to her desk, “You were probably a year or so old when we had the blizzard,” she said, “I remember mother and father doing everything they could to keep the house warm, practically smothering us with furs in the bed.” she continued, sitting back in her chair. I sighed, “I really don’t have time for-” I started to argue before she barreled over me by continuing her story. “At one point, they had to tend to the roof because the weight of the snow had collapsed it and the house was already freezing, but that hole made it almost unbearable.” she continued, “While they were doing that, I was there in the bed with you and I held you to me like mother did and tried to keep you warm, nestled under all those furs with you like a pair of bunnies in a burrow.” she said, a smile on her lips as she fondly recalled the memory. “My point,” she said suddenly, her focus shifting to me, “is that I know how to care for a baby and do everything in your power to protect it and keep it safe, so please remember that the next time you feel like insulting me.” she said calmly. I sighed, “I’m sorry, I’m just really focused on Lucy right now and-” she cut me off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Run along to your little playmate.” she said, “I just wanted to let you know I was proud of you today.” she added. I let her belittling comment slide as I stood up and headed for the door. “Oh, Ella?” she called from behind me. I looked back. “Don’t mistake my sisterly love and praise for professional approval, I may be proud of you as your older sister, but as your boss, I’m still very concerned about your ability to do this job.” she said. I flashed a fake smile, “Noted.” I sneered before leaving. ********* “Two years old and nobody noticed she was in the pool for three hours.” Lucy said between sobs. The little girl had gotten into her pajamas and was curled up on my lap clutching to me like a sad little barnacle as I rocked the chair we sat in together and rubbed her back. Lucy had been four when she’d died, her inattentive older sisters forgetting her at the small swimming hole down the trail from the little tar paper shake her family had lived in when picking berries sounded like a more fun task. “I know how hard it is for you to get drowning deaths.” I said soothingly. She nodded, “I just don’t understand how you can create a life but care so little about it that you don’t notice it’s not around and don’t immediately investigate why that is.” she said, sighing heavily, “At least this one was accidental.” she added, shuddering at the memory of the countless drowned little lives snuffed out in her time as a reaper. “You’re very brave for doing the job you do.” I told her, “I can’t imagine how hard it is to see the things you see every day and still manage to be such a sweet and caring woman.” I added. She looked up at me, “You said ‘woman’.” she said. I nodded, “You’re over a hundred years old.” I said. She smiled, “Yeah, but you usually call me a little girl.” she said, “It’s just nice to know that you see me as more than that.” she added. I slowed the rocking, “Hey, if it makes you feel uncomfortable to be called a little girl or to have me baby you or expect you to dress like a baby-” I started to say. She shook her head and nuzzled her cheek against my chest, “Ella, I’m four.” she said, “Yeah, I’ve been around for over a hundred years, and yeah, I know as much as someone that age, but I’m four and that means that it’s nice to be treated and seen like an adult sometimes, but at the end of the day a cuddle with a loved one and cozy jammies before bed is going to make everything okay.” she explained. I resumed the rocking and shifted her in my arms so I could kiss her cheek as she closed her eyes, Mira’s words echoing in my mind, “Do you think I’m good at being an adult?” I asked. She snorted and opened one eye like a little sleeping dragon eyeing some thieving goblins near her treasure pile, “When you’re doing this or working, yeah.” she said, “When you’re on your back on my living room floor in a diaper, not so much.” she added. “Fair, but would you say I’d make a good mother?” I asked. She shrugged, “You’re dead, why would you even care whether or not you’d be good at something you can never do?” she asked, closing her eye. “Mira said she was proud of how I handled my case today and that she saw me as a mother.” I explained, “I was just curious if she was blowing smoke up my ass or if she was being sincere.” I added. Lucy shifted to a sitting position, her pajamas fading away, replaced with a onesie and a thick diaper straining against the snaps between her legs as she threw her little arms around my neck and bounced happily in my lap, “Mommy, baby Wucy wuvs yoo dis much!” she burbled excitedly. I passively sat as she hugged me and bounced on my lap, my head spinning at the sudden departure from normalcy that her demeanor had taken, my arms slowly, almost mechanically moving around her to hug her before her outfit returned to what it had been and she pulled away to sit on my lap looking at me. “Yeah, not a mother.” she said, arms folded with a smug smile on her face. “You caught me off guard!” I stammered. She nodded, “Because that’s not you.” she said, “Look, you’ve thought this about yourself before, without Mira’s interference, and how did that turn out?” she asked. I pushed the painful memory away, “I thought maybe that time-” I started to say. “We’re dead, Ella, time means nothing for us anymore, you’re not going to grow and change into a responsible parent anymore than I’m going to develop boobs.” she said. She scooted forward and kissed my forehead, “You’re a loving and sweet woman that has the ability to make little ones feel calm and happy, but that’s because you’re little inside and know what makes little one’s tick.” she explained, “Stay in your lane and be yourself.” she added. I nodded softly, more than a little hurt about the bluntness of her assessment of me and dismissal of my feelings. She slipped off my lap and headed toward the nursery, “Get dressed for bed and come help me get the crib side down.” she said, more a gentle command than a suggestion. I stood up slowly and willed the rocking chair away, “I’m actually just going to go home.” I said quietly, “I hope you’re feeling better.” I said, heading to the door. “Ella-” she called out as I opened the door and slipped out, shutting it behind me. To Be Continued...

Thank you! I wanted this to be character focused and try some different things out that I didn't feel would be feasible in the "real world", but I do admit that as of this comment, the things I have written regarding the situations that ultimately brought about the person's demise are far less realistic but designed to be absurd because reasons.

Welcome! This is a story about being dead, fun, right?! The plan is for there to be an overarching main story, set up here in the prologue, but each chapter will be focused on an individual that comes to our protagonist through her job while I drip feed the main story throughout. The hope is that this will be a story that, eventually, makes you feel good despite literally everyone in it being dead. #ghostsarepeopletoo Anyway, if you like what you see here and want more let me know in the comments and like the story, if you don't, let me know in the comments and don't like the story, if you're just here for reading and not interacting, that's cool, I hope you enjoy my work regardless. On with the show! Cause Of Death: Embarrassment By: The Unknown Author Prologue Excerpt from D.E.A.T.H. new caseworker orientation “Death is the great mystery of humankind, specifically, what happens after a person dies. Different religions have different theories, beliefs that drive their members to be “good” people with the promise of a paradise beyond their mortal life and warn them of being “bad” for fear of ending up tortured and suffering in the afterlife. Some believe that there is no afterlife, that they’ll be reincarnated into another living thing once their life is over, others believe that there is merely nothing after someone dies, you just die and stop being aware of anything else as the empty void swallows your consciousness. The truth of it all is that when someone dies their “soul” comes here to the Department of Expiration and Afterlife Tallying in the Hereafter or D.E.A.T.H., when a person arrives at D.E.A.T.H., they are paired with a caseworker that goes over the defining moments of their life and the circumstances surrounding their death with the goal of bringing about acceptance of said demise to avoid said person becoming a ghost. As a caseworker, you will be given a file for each new arrival and will be expected to greet them when they arrive with a warm and welcoming tone as the transition process from the living realm to this one will leave them disoriented, fragments of knowledge about their situation may exist, but it is your chief goal to keep them calm and listening to you and not let them take control of the conversation. They will ask questions about why they are where they are and it will be your duty to reassure them, providing their file indicates they’ll be moving on to a better place, that their being with you is merely a formality and you’re working to expedite their transition as quickly and efficiently as possible. Should they be heading to a worse place, you’re to keep that information from them until you’ve completed your duty of setting up their transfer to avoid a vengeful spirit returning to the living realm. Performing well as a caseworker will provide you with the opportunity to advance within the organization. There are many different career paths available to those with an aptitude for handling the affairs of the dead such as: Reaping Accounting Unborn Soul Caretaking Training New Caseworkers And so many more! Some of you may be wondering why you were chosen for this role and the answer is simple, you and every other caseworker is uniquely qualified to be an important part of this organization and have been granted knowledge beyond your own life and time to allow you to aid others in their journey forward. Welcome to D.E.A.T.H.! ********* Working at D.E.A.T.H. is a lot like when you eat popcorn and get a hull stuck in your tooth that no matter how much you tongue it it just sticks there and you resign yourself to that being your life but then when it finally dislodges you feel such immense relief that you praise yourself for enduring such a hardship for those four and a half minutes that felt like weeks. Time, as a concept, doesn’t exist in our business, the living experience days and weeks but we have an eternal stretch of routine. The powers that be have blessed us with “time off” from our jobs in the form of the chronological equivalent to the blink of an eye, but we make due with what we’re given the best we can and then we’re instantly back at our desk again. That said, if “Monday’s” existed in the afterlife, this new assignment I’ve been given would be the equivalent of an eternity of Monday’s all stacked up on top of each other. “You’re not listening to me!” the woman seated in the chair in front of my desk shouted as she slammed her hands down on the desk, her entire form rippling and distorting briefly, signaling to me that she was headed for a vengeful spirit meltdown. I stood up calmly and walked around my desk to be at her side, putting my arm around her, “Hey, Samantha,” I said in a soothing tone, “I’m listening, but I need you to also listen to me, okay?” I asked. She was silent, her form stable once more. “Okay.” I said, taking my arm from her and kneeling down beside her, “Now, we’re in a bit of disagreement about how you died, right?” I asked. She glared at me, “No, you’re just wrong!” she spat. I sighed softly and reached up to retrieve the folder from my desk and opened it and scanned the document within until I found the part I was looking for, “It says that you experienced an event so humiliating that your soul left your body.” I told her. She smacked the file out of my hand, “Do you know how stupid that sounds?!” she shouted, her form rippling and writhing wildly once more. I picked the folder up and stood, “Okay, let’s see what happened then.” I said, going to the small table against the wall that held a television and remote on it. I turned the TV on and the image of Samantha appeared on the screen. Her form shuddered as she looked down at the ground, “Please, don’t make me watch it.” she pleaded. I ignored her, focusing on driving the point that she was wrong home to shut her up and get her out of my hair once and for all, “You don’t have to watch, but I am going to narrate what I see.” I told her. The image on the screen was basically a CCTV recording of Samantha’s kitchen, the recording being done from somewhere above and away from the circular table in the kitchen. Samantha was seated in a larger than normal highchair, her blonde hair tied up into adorable pigtails, her long legs dangling above the floor, swinging back and forth as she scooped a handful of chocolate pudding up from the little pink bowl on the tray locked in place in front of her and brought it to her mouth, slathering her cheeks and chin in the process and dripping some onto not just the bib around her neck, but also the very pretty dress she was wearing. I looked over at her where she sat in front of my desk and smiled at her, though her eyes were still cast to the floor and thus couldn’t see me looking at her. “Your dress is very pretty.” I told her. She was still wearing the lavender party dress, the frills beneath made her look like a flower turned upside down where she sat. She looked up at me and immediately back down to the floor when she saw me smiling, “Th-thank you.” she stammered. The pudding spots remained on the bib she still wore, a frilly pink number with “Daddy’s Messy Eater” written in elegant flowing cursive, and her cheeks and chin were still marred with the remnants of the treat, making me impressed with myself for not laughing at her when she tried to assert herself and overpower me in this situation. The man in the recording set down his paper and looked at his watch and then at the Samantha, sighing as he got up from the kitchen table, “Did you enjoy your pudding, baby?” he asked, gently stroking her hair with one hand. She looked up at him and nodded, “Yes, Daddy, it was very nummy!” she chirped. He bent forward so his face was level with hers, “Daddy put an extra special something into it to prepare you for your surprise.” he told her. Samantha furrowed her brow, “What-” she started to say before she stopped speaking, her face looking shocked as she looked from the bowl of pudding and back up at him. Taking a step back from her, he chuckled, “Pathetic.” he sneered. The sound of a doorbell ringing made me turn my attention back to the TV, noting that Samantha winced at the sound, her form shuddering once more, but not angrily this time. In the highchair, Samantha had stopped swinging her legs and enjoying her dessert, and had frozen in place as she looked to the sound of the doorbell, leaning this way and that to try and see something off screen. Her face contorted into abject terror as she shook her head vehemently and squirmed in the highchair, her cries of “No.” repeating over and over again, growing more frantic and panicked as a man and woman appeared from where the doorbell had rang. “Please.” Samantha said quietly. I paused the video. “Please, what?” I asked. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and pleading, “Don’t make me watch it.” she begged. “What happened?” I asked. She shook her head. I plucked the document from the folder, “Samantha Walters, age thirty four, was engaged in an Adult Baby play session with her husband and Daddy, William Walters, eating pudding that, unbeknownst to her, contained sedatives to limit her ability to fight against him, in her highchair when he excused himself for a moment to answer the door.” I read, eyeing the shaking woman seated before me above the paper briefly before continuing, “A short time after he excused himself, William returned with his-” I stopped reading aloud and read with just my eyes for a bit before stopping and lowering the paper to look at Samantha. She wasn’t able to cry, but the shudder of her form told me she was performing the spiritual equivalent of a sobbing emotional breakdown. I closed the distance between us and knelt down in front of her, hooking my finger beneath her chin and lifting it gently so she was looking at me, though her eyes tried to look anywhere but into mine. “What he did to you was awful.” I said sympathetically. She nodded, “I trusted him and let myself be truly vulnerable.” she whispered sullenly. I nodded, “I know, honey, but, I can’t change any of what happened, I just need you to accept that the humiliation of what he did was what ultimately, and tragically, ended your life so that you can move on.” I told her. She looked down at the floor, “To Heaven?” she asked, her demeanor and tone changing to something more akin to the age she was dressed as rather than her chronological age. I nodded, “According to your file, you’ve got a happy afterlife ahead of you.” I said, “But only if you let go of your hurt and anger.” I added. “If you hold onto that then you’ll be an angry ghost for a really long time and all you’ll feel is pain and hatred until you eventually forget why it is you’re so hurt and angry and you just disappear.” I explained, slipping into a tone more suitable for a young child. She nodded softly, “Is Heaven nice?” she asked. I sighed and shrugged, “Honestly, honey, I’ve never been, but I’m sure it’s great.” I told her. She looked over at the paused screen and then down at her outfit, “I felt really cute.” she confessed. “Like, my outside self matched my inside self for real for the first time and I wasn’t just pretending and playing dress up.” she continued. “Then he spoiled everything.” she pouted. I stroked her cheek softly, “He didn’t deserve a little girl as pretty and sweet as you, honey.” I told her. She smiled and threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly, “I’m sorry I got angry and yelled at you.” she said quietly. I hugged her back, rubbing her back and patting it softly, “It’s okay, I know how hard and scary it is dealing with all of this stuff suddenly.” I told her, “But I know that there’s nothing but happiness in your future and no one will ever hurt you again.” I added. She broke our embrace and nodded softly, “I’m ready.” she said before her form shuddered one final time as she accepted her fate and she began to glow brightly and then was gone from where she sat. I rose slowly and smiled, “Good girl.” I praised to the now empty office, turning my attention back to the TV to finish watching the recording. The man and woman that had entered were holding hands, the woman laughing at Samantha as her head lolled to the side to look at them from her place in the highchair. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, she’s adorable!” the woman cooed as she let go of the man’s hand and went to the highchair. The man chuckled, “Yeah, until you have to change her shitty diapers.” he cruelly joked. The woman looked over at him and knelt down, reaching up to push the wad of frills away to peek at Samantha’s diaper, effortlessly batting the girls legs away as she weakly struggled against her pervy intruder, her hands covering her face as she rose and looked at the woman, “Such pretty diapers!” she cooed, “Mommy can’t wait to see you fill them up for her!” she added, patting Samantha’s head as the woman in the highchair lazily pulled her head away to escape the touch before she trotted back over to the man and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Who she, Willm?” Samantha asked drunkenly, her words slurred and more akin to baby talk then she realized. William grabbed a handful of the woman’s ass and pulled her close to him, kissing her deeply before he lifted her up and spun around to set her onto the counter behind him. “This is Kiki, baby, and she is going to be your new Mommy, Sammy.” he said, kissing the Auburn haired woman’s neck as his hand groped her breast through her blouse. “Your Daddy needs a real woman, sweetheart.” Kiki teased, “When he puts you down for your little nappy naps in your crib, I’m who he calls to come keep him company.” she said, “When you’re filling your diapers, he’s looking at the pictures I send him of what a real woman looks like.” she teased. Samantha was crying now and awkwardly batted the bowl of pudding off the tray of the highchair, a gesture meant to be powerful and show them how angry she was, but simply made her look like a clumsy baby having a tantrum, “Oo cheeding bassad.” she slurred. William and Kiki ignored her outburst, William kneeling down to slide Kiki’s panties off her, “See these?” he asked his wife as he held up the lacy red garment, “These are damp with desire for me,” he said, walking over to the highchair and shoving the panties into Samantha’s face, “not with piss because you can’t control yourself.” he spat. Samantha whimpered and tried to pull her head away, but found herself too weak and slow to do more than sob into the panties that William held against her face, the smell of the other woman’s arousal and the indignity she was suffering making her blood boil, “I divose oo.” she squeaked. William glanced over at his wife and snorted, “How?” he asked, turning back to her, “I can keep you sedated and locked up in your crib until the day you die and no one will even know you’re gone.” he hissed, walking back to her slowly, “You have no friends,” he said raising his index finger and counting it, “no family,” he counted on his middle finger, “no job,” he counted on his ring finger, “and no kids.” he counted on his pinkie as he reached the highchair. “You’re nothing but a helpless and worthless freak, and you will accept your role as the baby of this house and Kiki as your Mommy even if I have to beat every last atom of adulthood and independence out of you.” he threatened. “Now, apologize to Mommy and Daddy for being naughty and pushing your pudding onto the floor.” he commanded. The gears in Samantha’s mind slowly turned at how malicious and aggressive her husband was being, how a man that had shown her nothing but love and care as a Daddy was now threatening her with physical violence not only broke her heart, but left her a blubbering mess of rage with no way to express it, of hurt with no ability to say anything to change it. Kiki walked over, her high heels clicking on the floor of the kitchen as she took her spot beside her man and looked at the pathetic example of a woman before her, “You better apologize, baby girl.” she warned. Samantha looked up at the pair with tears streaming down her cheeks, her life was ruined, her marriage was over, her adulthood was being rescinded, and she was strapped into a highchair in her once favorite dress, her hair done into pigtails by Daddy after he’d gotten her changed and dressed. She sobbed at the memory of feeling so cute, the embodiment of the little version of her that lived inside, that sweet little girl that loved her Daddy and felt safe in his arms crushed by the cruel reality of the world, snuffed out by a hateful man with selfishness and malice in his heart. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred, “I-” she started to say before she felt a pop in her head and then nothing. I watched her slump forward in the highchair, the embolism in her brain ending her life instantly, and watched as William and Kiki panicked and argued about what to do, and turned the TV off when they started talking about burying the body somewhere. I returned to my desk and brought up William’s file. Time doesn’t move the same in the afterlife, so, while Samantha had just appeared in my office and moved on with my help, Earth was at a different point entirely. William and Kiki had decided to bury Samantha in the backyard, and did so without issue, but Kiki, overcome with guilt over what had happened, had begun pestering William with notions of coming clean and accepting whatever may happen to them. William, ever serving his own self interests, did to Kiki what he’d threatened Samantha with, drugging the woman and keeping her locked up in the nursery his late wife had once occupied. I skimmed the document on the screen and stopped when I got to the end, smiling with morbid satisfaction. William had slipped in the shower and become paralyzed but alive, though he’d landed on the drain and effectively plugged it with his body and lived his last agonizing minutes watching the water level in the tub rise until he drowned. Meanwhile, Kiki, drugged and shackled in the crib, starved to death but suffered greatly thanks to a severe case of diaper rash caused by William failing to change her for several days. I checked the final location for both and nodded approvingly at their appointment to somewhere very unpleasant for the duration of eternity and closed the file. I mentioned that today was the first day of my new appointment, but I failed to share what that appointment was. I am “Head of Embarrassment Induced Life Termination”, which is a fancy way of saying that when someone “dies of embarrassment” it’s not hyperbolic, they may have physically had a heart attack or stroke or something, but the sheer humiliation they endured led to their demise and I get to explain that to them and make them accept what happened to them, neat, right? Also, even though I’m “Head” of that field, I am the only person handling those cases, why, you might ask, well, because of who my boss is. ********* “How did your first case go?” She asked, her fingers tented on her much larger than my own desk in her much larger than my own office. I nodded, “Fine.” I said. “Samantha Walters transitioned successfully.” I added. “I understand you continued watching her video after she transitioned and looked into the fate of her husband and his mistress.” she said, her lips pursing as she stared at me above her glasses. “Is that not allowed?” I asked. She stood and folded her arms behind her back, looking out the window at the infinite sea of cubicles below, “Ella, when a spirit dwells on what happened to them for too long, what happens?” she asked me without turning around. I sighed, “A spirit returns to Earth as a ghost when they refuse to accept their fate.” I said flatly. She turned and nodded, “And if an agent of D.E.A.T.H. were, let’s just say, to take too great of an interest in the affairs of the living or recently deceased?” she asked. I scoffed, “Are we really going to have this conversation again?” I snapped. She raised an eyebrow, “Watch your tone.” she warned. “I’m justifiably concerned about your attachment to the living.” she reminded. “You’re not to go any further than is necessary in the course of your duties, am I understood?” she asked. If I still had blood, it would’ve rushed to my face, “Is that an order from my boss or from my overbearing big sister?” I sneered. She sighed and took a seat on the edge of her desk in front of me, “As your boss, I’m warning you to do your job and not linger on your cases any more than is necessary.” she said calmly before she leaned in so she was face to face with me, “As your older sister, I’m telling you that if you sass me again, I’ll make sure your next post is even less desirable than your current one.” she said softly. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I whined. She rolled her eyes, “Ever the sniveling brat, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically before sighing heavily, “I can’t leave you alone because it’s my job to account for the activities of my subordinates.” she reminded me, her tone authoritative but calm, “Also, because not all that long ago we had quite the issue with you and your,” she paused, searching for the word she wanted to use, “fascination” she said with a smug smirk, “with the living.” she said. “Oh, I’m sorry that I chose to come up here and have you lecture me about pointless shit, Mira.” I spat. “How rude it was of me to interrupt your busy schedule of smelling your own farts and congratulating yourself for being the daughter that died with dignity.” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest petulantly. “That’s not fair and you know it.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. She stood and returned to her seat, “You’re dismissed.” she said coldly, “But know that I’m monitoring your work going forward and if I see any warning signs, I’m pulling you from the floor.” she warned. I stood and made a theatrical bowing gesture, “Adieu, your highness.” I sneered before storming out of her office and slamming the door behind me. ********* “Everything alright?” a small voice asked from the doorway of my office some time later. I looked up from my monitor and smiled, “Yeah.” I said. “Just Mira being Mira.” I added. The little girl at the door crossed the threshold and hoisted herself up and into the chair in front of my desk. Lucy was perpetually four years old, and was the head of the children’s division of Reapers, her job is exactly as depressing as it sounds, but Lucy is sweet and amazing at her job and makes sure every client is happy and at peace when she brings them in. We can dress however we want, but Lucy leans into the four year old she looks like and wears cute little overalls with snaps up the inseam and crotch and these little Velcro shoes that light up and squeak when she walks and she has the most adorable little Afro that makes me want to scoop her up and snuggle her to pieces until I remember that she’s hundreds of years old at this point and hates being talked down to and treated like a child. “What’s got her knickers in a twist now?” Lucy asked. I sighed, “She’s worried that I’m going to go ghost because I watched a client’s video after they transitioned and looked up the husband and his mistress afterward.” I explained. “Are you?” she asked. I looked at her quizzically, “Am I what?” I asked. “Gonna go spook?” she asked. “No!” I said a little louder than I meant to, “This woman died of embarrassment because her dick hole husband slash Daddy drugged her against her will and brought his mistress over during highchair pudding time and proceeded to threaten her with a life of captivity and abuse if she didn’t accept her role as baby of the house.” I explained, “I was curious to see everything unfold and wanted a resolution to the story.” I clarified. Lucy nodded slowly, “Sounds like another Allison situation.” she said. I closed my eyes for a moment and saw a flash of Allison before opening my eyes, “We agreed never to mention her.” I reminded her. She smiled at me and nodded, though her smile did little to mask her worry, “We did agree to that, because it’s natural to have feelings like that.” she said. “I still struggle when I have to bring in a kid that drowned.” she told me. “It’s just not healthy to focus so hard on them that you go ghost.” she added. I nodded, “I know, and I’m fine.” I said flatly. “Thank you for checking on me though.” I added, smiling at her. She returned my smile, “Wanna hang out after work?” she asked as she slid off the chair and headed to the door. “Do you mind?” I asked. She shook her head, “Babysitting is fun.” she teased, sticking her tongue out at me and giggling as she slipped out the door, the squeak of her shoes making me smile. ********* I don’t know how Heaven and Hell, or whatever they’re called by whoever ends up there operate, but at D.E.A.T.H., because the work floor is an infinite labyrinth of cubicles and offices, we kind of just appear where we want or need to be at any given time, so after stepping out of my office, I’m instantly stepping into what is basically my living quarters, an oxymoron to be sure, but it is what it is. The thought is that if we have an outlet outside of our work that we won’t fall into the dangerous behavior like spending all our time coveting the living’s lives and filling ourselves with resentment and longing that causes us to turn into vengeful spirits that head to the living world to wreak havoc. Anything we want can be conjured, for lack of a better word, into our living quarters, some people have tables with puzzles in various states of completion, others have an entire orchestra’s worth of instruments to play, while some just watch TV. My living area has changed many times in the hundred plus years since I died and came here, but recently it’s changed to reflect the interests I’ve collected from my time working with the recently deceased, the “Allison” that Lucy had mentioned was the cause of the current setup, and the reason that Mira was so concerned about me. “If she’s so concerned about me becoming obsessed to the point that I turn ghost, why put me on the job she put me on?” I asked Lucy later that evening. Lucy shrugged her shoulders softly, “Exposure therapy?” she offered uncertainly, “Maybe she feels that showing you how things like this have caused people to die will make you not romanticize it.” she added as she twisted the cap on the baby bottle she had filled and brought it over to where I sat on the floor, holding it out for me to take with my outstretched hands. We don’t eat or drink, so nursing a bottle of milk is as useless as the diaper I wore but couldn’t use, it was all pantomime, theater for my senses to trick my brain into feeling like I was experiencing the things they did. “If humiliation were a deterrent, don’t you think I’d be doing this at my own place alone?” I asked between sucks of the bottle’s nipple. Lucy shrugged once more and lowered herself to the floor beside me, stroking my hair gently, “She loves you and just wants to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” she reminded me. I nodded softly and pulled the bottle from my mouth, “If she loved me then she’d let me see her.” I said bitterly. Lucy gently pushed the nipple back into my mouth, “I thought you were coming over to have some baby time, not to bitch and moan about Mira and how unfair things are for you.” she teased, her lips curling into a wicked little smile, “Unless you’re secretly looking for me to take you to Mira for a spanking.” she said, covering her mouth to stifle a soft giggle at my expense. I glared up at her and gave protesting grunt before I closed my eyes and drank my bottle like a good baby. “You know that she probably knows about you and I getting together to play, right?” she asked once the bottle was empty and set aside to be replaced with my pacifier. I shook my head, “She’s evil, but she still respects my privacy off the clock.” I said, pacifier bobbing as my garbled words came out around the sizable teat. Lucy stood and stretched, her overalls dissolving into pink footed pajamas, “We have some time left if you want to cuddle in the crib.” she offered. I nodded and willed my outfit to match hers, the bottom of my pajamas bulging around my diaper where hers were smooth and taught against her body. “Why don’t you ever wear diapers with me?” I asked as I crawled beside her to the nursery she had set up in the other room. Climbing up the little step stool in front of it, she worked the latch of the crib with her little hands and lowered the side, “I mean, diapers like what you’re wearing didn’t exist when I was alive and I’m not super interested in a giant wad of fabric under my clothes.” she answered as she waited for me to climb into the crib and lay down. “Then why bother with the snap crotch overalls and the overall toddler aesthetic?” I asked, watching her climb in and pull the side of the crib up before she snuggled up next to me. She kissed my forehead, “Because I was a cute ass baby and sadly I’m stuck being cute for the rest of eternity, but I can’t use a diaper anyway, so why not just skip it?” she asked. I giggled, “You are super cute.” I agreed, hugging her tightly like she was my own living, breathing stuffed animal. “You’re pretty cute yourself.” she said, “A little silly looking given your adult proportions, but I’d still pinch your cheeks and fawn over you.” she added. I pulled my pacifier out of my mouth and kissed her forehead, “I love you, Lucy.” I said, “I wish you were my sister instead of Mira.” I added before slipping my pacifier back in and closing my eyes. She sighed softly, “I love you too, baby sister.” she cooed in a soft whisper. ********* Mira watched the pair cuddling in the crib for a moment on her computer, the camera in the stuffed bear atop the changing table allowing her to see and hear everything happening in the nursery and made a disgusted groan as she turned the monitor off and sat back in her chair to contemplate the best course of action for dealing with her sister’s behavior. To Be Continued...

Apologies for the delayed reply! I'm so happy to hear that you had a chance to read the story and that it hit the feels mark for you, thank you so much for all the kind words and for taking the time to share your thoughts with me, it means a lot. Again, apologies for the delayed reply, but I greatly appreciate you reading my story and taking the time to comment. I don't believe I've ever had so many comments that are similar in their feelings, so it's very neat to see that so many people share the emotional response after reading the story. Very glad you enjoyed it.

I absolutely took it in a good way I jjust wanted to make sure, since you said things hit a little close, that I was considerate of that fact and your feelings before I was like "Yay, i made someone cry with words!". Also, I started out with "10 or fewer" chapters in mind and thought seven felt like a sweet spot, I'm glad that proved correct. And thank you! I feel "masterpiece" is overselling it, but it's greatly appreciated! YOU'RE great! Thank you!

Thank you so much for sharing your feelings, I'm so happy you liked the story! I mean, I'm super proud of succeeding in my goal, don't get me wrong, I guess there's this part of me that worries something like this will make a person go "Yo, what the fuck?!" when they're expecting porn and get feels. Clearly that wasn't the case here, but it's still an unfamiliar situation to be in. I am very pleased with myself though, fear not. You're quite welcome, and thank you for being a constant source of encouragement throughout the writing. I don't write things for other people, I write them to exercise whatever thing is bouncing around in my brain at the time, but having someone follow and provide feedback and support throughout is very much appreciated, so thank you very much for all your help. I could've sworn I peaked in Elementary school most days, but this gives me hope that I may yet still have something to contribute...unless the next thing I finish is crap....:P

Thank you for reading even though it wasn't your jam, I appreciate it and for you taking the time to comment, very glad you liked it! You're quite welcome! I confess I did go pretty hard at the feels and I'm glad I did well but am sorry it triggered you so greatly, I hope you're okay. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment! Thank you! I put a lot into the last chapter because I didn't want to stretch things out and get repetitive but I worried it would be too much all at once, glad to hear it still worked out! Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment!

VII “Lisa 10/15/78 – 3/25/86” “It’s not an exaggeration to say that Lisa saved my life. That night on the phone she quickly calmed me down and instructed me to get to an emergency room, assuring me repeatedly that she would find me and come and get me. She called me “baby” and it made things better, I called her “Mommy” and it made things better, and even though I left that phone booth physically still alone and helpless, she was with me in my heart and my mind and I moved beyond the bridge that I thought would end my life, wrapped in her love as I had been in what felt like a previous life. I spent three days in the hospital before I woke up to her beside my bed holding my hand in hers. She’d been crying, her eyes puffy and red, but there wasn’t any sadness in her gaze when she looked at me, despite the years and the distance, she looked at me now the same way she had when we were last together, and the sheer fact that anyone could look at me as I was now and find anything to love was enough to reduce me to a blubbering mess of tears and snot that she quickly and lovingly quelled by climbing into the bed with me and holding me in her arms as she gave me a pacifier from her purse to suck on. After my time in the other hospital, I was on edge being in this one. The smell was the biggest problem for me, the cleaning products they used made everything so sterile and cold, before Lisa arrived I’d lay curled up in a ball in the bed, hiding under the blankets like I’d done as a little girl when the monster in the closet became a more concerning threat when my imagination went too far. Every nurse that came in was not to be trusted, despite their gentle tones and impeccable care, the other foot was out there somewhere, and I was ready for it to drop on me, ready to be strapped to the bed and abused, ready to tumble down the rabbit hole of lucidity that made dreams real and nightmares fact. When Lisa proved she was staying with me in the hospital, she took her time with me, patiently doling out breadcrumbs of information about what was going to happen when I was released. She talked to me like a mother would her child, small sentences with an easy to follow narrative broken up by feedings, cuddles, naps, diaper changes, and reassurances that she would return whenever she needed to leave the room. The frequent departures were, as she explained, something we’d talk about when I was doing better, the sores on my feet from walking the streets the night I called her keeping me bed ridden, my addiction making me sick more often than not and prone to outbursts that she was somehow able to quell as easily as a mother talking her tantruming toddler down from a nap protest. By the time I was released from the hospital, I’d detoxed and had started to regain weight, and Lisa set up appointments to get the rest of me back on track. The dentist fixed my teeth, pulling my remaining six and crafting impressively real looking fakes for me to wear, a special doctor fixed the damage Gus had done to my bottom with his regular attention to my backside and gave me more awareness of when I was pooping even though I was still unable to keep from letting go when my body felt the need. She took me shopping for lovely clothes that were nicer than anything I’d ever owned up to that point, took me to the salon to fix my badly damaged hair and nails, and by the end of it all I felt like I’d regained a portion of what I’d lost, but the outer facade was flimsy and easily broke apart when I filled my diaper on the way back to the car and wailed like an infant until my pacifier was placed between my lips and Mommy resolved the issue. It’s incredibly difficult to articulate what my mental and emotional state was like in that time, I knew I was an adult, I remembered graduating from high school and traveling across the country on my own, but at the same time, those memories seemed to become so distant when a regressive episode occurred that I could hardly be blamed for forgetting that I wasn’t a larger than average baby in the care of her Mommy, dependent on her for everything. I didn’t seek that feeling out, or consciously decide it would happen, my brain flipped a switch when faced with a hurdle a baby would be unable to overcome, such as unconsciously messing their diaper, the emotional response became proportionate to the developmental level of the problem, and thus a woman in her late twenties waddled through a parking lot, led by the hand by another woman her age and had her diaper changed on the backseat of the car as she sucked her pacifier. Lisa never judged me for these outbursts, her interaction with me was as fluid as my mental maturity, when I was in control of my emotions and faculties, she was my peer and very clearly still in love with me, and when I had a regressive episode, she was my patient and loving Mommy, slipping seamlessly into a cheery and bubbly demeanor to soothe my tantrums, always prepared with a pacifier or bottle or stuffed animal despite not having needed those things over the course of the day. As in love with me as she clearly still was when we were equals, my love for her was immeasurable when I did slip back to babyhood, she was the light of my life, my everything, and the simple gurgling and prattling behind my pacifier never felt like enough was being said to convey that to her, but she always kissed my forehead and told me that she loved me too, so I guess it was working on some level.” A calm washed over me as I read of my mother’s salvation and the return of her beloved Lisa. It felt like so much negativity and abuse had been endured by my mother that it was a genuine relief to see her safe and looked after, though it was more than a little alarming to know how damaged she’d become after everything that had happened, but I knew that she would end up fine and allowed myself to relax and enjoy the heartwarming ride. “One day, when we were equals, she sat down with me and asked me a simple question, “Would you be happy living with me?”. I was beyond surprised, assuming that our time together was simply to right a wrong or balance the scales between us, a gesture on her part to make amends for her guilt that she may be somehow, at least in part, responsible for everything that had happened to me after our time together in Florida. I of course quickly confirmed that something like that would be amazing, my mental age slipping just enough to babble on about Disney World and how exciting it would be to see it once again. She was all smiles as I went on, her hand resting lovingly on mine when she’d heard enough, and she clarified that she meant here, not in Florida. She explained that she’d been having a house built just for us, a place where we could live together in whatever kind of relationship we wanted. I lived with Lisa in her penthouse room at the nicest hotel I’d ever stayed at while the house she was building for us was completed. This period was something of a rekindling of our former relationship, but also a cementing of the Mommy and baby bond that was developing between us since she’d returned to my life. Her fluidity was on display daily, waking up with me in the morning and gauging where I was emotionally before proceeding with any planned activity, if I was my normal self, we’d share a shower and explore the physical aspects of our adult relationship, if I was little, she’d get me into the tub and lovingly bathe me. These things seemed imperceptibly easy for her from my perspective, not once did I catch her hesitating or appearing frustrated if a sexual encounter was spoiled by a regressive episode, and it was her fluidity and ability to handle any and every situation that helped me to experience fewer and fewer of those episodes as we were together all day every day for months on end. As she cared for me when I needed her to be Mommy, she was also someone to talk to about the things I’d experienced and work through my trauma’s in a safe space that allowed for cuddles when I needed them and Mommy and baby time when talks got particularly difficult to handle. When she broached the subject of toilet training, I was so beholden to her that I readily agreed and listened as she explained what I might feel before I needed to go to the bathroom, the knowledge that I had been, at one point, completely capable of using the toilet without issue for almost two decades seemed to have left my memory and I merely listened intently and felt resolute in making her proud of me and getting out of diapers. By the time our house was finished, I was mostly day trained except for long trips and times when bathrooms weren’t as readily available. Overnight had gone largely unchanged, though I hadn’t woken up messy in weeks which was a definite cause for celebration. She’d suggested, and I’d agreed, that I wear a diaper to go look at the house, her concern that I’d be so excited and preoccupied that I might forget to go to the bathroom was a fair assessment, and her reassurance that if I did remember to go she would help me out of my diaper and plastic panties to keep my success rate intact. The drive to the house was quiet, I’d long since given up needing a pacifier or my thumb when I was nervous, her hand holding mine kept the fluttering in my stomach at bay. My mind was working overtime, the little side of me envisioning a castle like structure like the one’s in the bedtime stories she read to me while the rational adult side of me wondered just how lavish she’d chosen to go with our house, the extravagant penthouse we’d been living in bleeding into the vision of what I was expecting. The house was gorgeous, a single story with three bedrooms and two bathrooms that was a short walk to a park with a lovely lake.” I stared at the page, blinking stupidly at it. This was the house that Lisa had built for her and my mother! The house I’d grown up in was the home of my mother and her Mommy and I’d not only never even heard of Lisa, but the story my mother had told me was that she’d bought the house from a widow that was moving in with her kids somewhere upstate. I beamed happily at learning that this house had been full of love before I’d been born and that my mother had been happy and safe in it, growing up, it seemed, as I had within its walls. “The big bedroom was for Lisa and I to be grownups, our love blossomed into something akin to a marriage there, nights spent beside one another, sometimes talking, sometimes reading, sometimes just quiet, but always together and always in love. The bedroom near that was my nursery, furnished with a crib and changing table as well as a closet full of outfits that made me outwardly look as little as I felt inside, a safe space Lisa would allow me to enter if I asked politely or if she saw a need for me to be there, like the day when a letter arrived telling me my father had died or the day not one year later when a similar letter came about my mother. I never went to their funerals, that was something a daughter would do, and they’d made it abundantly clear I wasn’t that to them any longer, instead, I spent those days with Mommy, being doted on and cared for as if I were her daughter, and the emotional storm subsided quickly each time and when the time came to leave the nursery and enjoy the evening with Lisa, I did so without hesitation. The third bedroom was a kind of catch all room for a long while, Lisa mostly sewed clothes to be added to the closet in the nursery in there, but it was more or less unused, until Lisa broached the subject of having a baby one night in bed. I astutely pointed out that we were both missing a key component that would create said baby, and she lovingly explained everything she’d been reading about a medical procedure that would allow us to have a baby together.” I shot off the bed and paced around the room, my mind going over the timeline of events. Was the reason I’d never met my dad or even heard my mother speak of him because he never existed? Was Lisa my other mother? I hurried back to the bed to continue reading. “The subject of having a baby came and went periodically over the months and years, the part of me that loved the idea of having a baby with the woman I loved was kept at bay by the jealous little side of me that began acting up whenever Lisa began talking about it. I didn’t want to be a brat, didn’t want to force her to baby me in some misguided attempt to satiate her maternal desires with my own adult infancy, but nevertheless, she’d bring up having a baby and I’d have an accident or suddenly become cranky or clingy, and every time she would lead me by the hand to the nursery and take care of me as she had been doing for years. When she finally reached the point of forcing me to have the conversation, ignoring my wet pants and silencing my whines with a pacifier while keeping me on the chair she’d sat me on and denying me cuddles, she handled it as deftly as she handled everything else, calmly assuring me that her desire to have a baby with me wasn’t an attempt to replace me as her baby but to give us something we created together, a life that would continue our legacy after we died, a life that might have children of his or her own that we might see and be as proud of as we were of our own son or daughter. She gently took my hand in hers and looked at me with the love of a spouse and asked me to simply meet with the doctor and learn about the procedure, I agreed, we kissed and then I got a spanking for being such a brat.” I fumbled with my phone and hurriedly typed, deleted, typed, deleted and typed again a string of exclamation points and capital letters that vaguely let Florence know that I had two moms and was thus way more gay than her and punctuated it with an emoji sticking its tongue out and then a kitty emoji. To which she responded with a string of obscenities and threats of proving just how much gayer than me she truly was once she arrived followed by congratulations on having two moms and a request that I explain how that happened when we next spoke. I adore that woman, she just gets me. “The meeting with the doctor was more confusing for me than I think Lisa thought or hoped it would be. I’d been a fully functioning adult for years now, my slips to babyish behavior now only conscious ones when I wanted to play with her as Mommy, but sitting in the doctor’s office with her holding my hand as the doctor used incredibly large and unfamiliar words, wielding them like a club to beat me into a mental stupor with, I found myself gently squeezing her hand and feeling like the nursery would need to be our first stop when we returned home. When I did look away from the doctor to her, I saw her listening intently, a warm smile on her face as the daydream of a baby we’d had together played out behind her eyes, she was happy with what she was hearing, and I defaulted to a place where I was happy as long as she was happy. She bent the rules that night for my sake, and climbed into the crib with me and cuddled me from behind as she untangled the mess of jargon the doctor had buried me in. She made the procedure he’d droned on about make sense and took the fear and apprehension from me and replaced it with reassurance and calm with every gentle stroke of my hair and rock of our bodies as she spoke to me in a tone that maintained our equality but targeted the scared and uncertain little girl within me. By the time she was changing my diaper so we could go to bed for the night in our room, I was in complete agreement that we would give the procedure a try and that I would carry our baby if it worked.” If swooning is an actual thing that exists and not just something made up for old timey plays and stories, I was absolutely swooning for my mother and Lisa’s pseudo marriage. The fact that if they were going through today what they were going through then meant that they’d be not only the sweetest couple I’d ever personally known, but also a template for what I wanted Florence and I to become, the difference thirty plus years could make for them would’ve allowed them to be legally married and not just feeling they were in their hearts, though a piece of paper didn’t make what they had any more or less beautiful, they deserved what straight couples had. “The procedure was actually pretty simple, the doctor would take an egg from Lisa and fertilize it with an anonymous sperm donor’s sperm, well, anonymous to me, Lisa had picked someone out from thousands of candidates to make sure the person she picked would give us strong traits in our baby, and then put the fertilized egg into my uterus. The first try yielded a positive pregnancy test, and Lisa’s smile infected me as we hugged and cried together in joy that our dream was going to become a reality. Lisa’s coughing started a month after we saw the doctor and confirmed we were in fact pregnant, she dismissed it as a lingering cold when it not only persisted but started getting worse, coming more from the chest than the throat, and only after I begged her to see a doctor did she finally leave one afternoon to satisfy my wishes. When she returned from the doctor many hours later, I knew something was wrong, she was pale as a sheet and had obviously been crying, but she blamed allergies and simply asked that we lay together in bed. By the time I started showing, my belly protruding slightly enough to give me an adorable bump beneath my tops, she was hiding the bloody tissues that she’d been coughing into at the bottom of the trashcan, lying to me regularly about her ability to continue doing the things she always did, pushing herself daily to ensure that I was taken care of and worrying me more and more each day with her lack of communication. I finally stood up to her, something I’d never done, and demanded that she talk to me about what was happening, and the world fell apart when she did.” I wiped my eyes and cursed whatever force decided that my mother’s happiness was public enemy number one to the world at large and had devised an insidious plan to raise her up to the highest level of joy she’d experienced in her life before setting fire to the life she’d built. “I was numb when she said the word, the sound of it reverberating in my head and heart like a ricocheting bullet, “Cancer”, the capitalization here being intentional on my part, a recognition of the thing as something deserving of a proper name, earning the capitalization as an offering of appeasement if Lisa were spared having to fight with something so awful and unfair. We became two sides of the same coin, she and I growing something inside our bodies, mine a new life full of promise and wonder and love and joy, while hers was a darkness that sought to rob her and I and our baby of all of that by siphoning everything in her worth devouring and leaving her an empty shell of the woman I loved. I spent weeks thinking of the vacations we’d taken together, sex with her on the same beach she’d watched her baby girl build a sandcastle on earlier in the day, nightclubs blasting music in other languages while we danced together and kissed, our sweaty bodies planning on entwining with one another once we got back to our hotel, happier moments than I believed I deserved and would forever be grateful for her giving them to me and sharing them with me. While I reminisced, she got weaker, as our baby grew within me, kicking and growing stronger, the fight drained out of her, she spent more and more time in bed, struggling to get restful sleep as the coughing came harder and more frequently. Our roles began to reverse the weaker she got and the more my hormones paved the way for me to become a mother. Her frailty allowed me to handle her feedings and bathing, the spread of the cancer caused her to struggle to make it to the bathroom, and I handled her diapering and the cleanup of her various messes. As her faculties began to diminish, I began to talk to her in those small, easy to understand words coated in maternal love that she’d used to help we when I was sick and frightened, she became my final test of adulthood and impending motherhood, giving me the last thing I needed to allow my little side to leave me and be replaced by someone that had learned from the absolute best what it meant to be a mother and a strong, capable woman. Madeline was born a little less than a year before Lisa passed, and I will forever be grateful that Lisa got a chance to meet our daughter and share at least some time with the life she’d created with me.” I spent a few hours on the phone with Florence, mostly crying once I’d finished the journal page and looked at the pictures that accompanied it. Every picture was of my mother and Lisa together and happy, various countries acted as a backdrop for their love, beach smiles, mountain kisses, forest cuddling, all of it a tapestry woven with threads of love and understanding, of give and take and mutual respect every step of the way. My mother never spoke to me about Lisa, and that broke my heart, not because Lisa was every bit my mother as my mother was, but because this woman had had such a profound impact on her life and saved her life and, by my mother’s own admission, made her the woman I knew her to be, and it confused and hurt me to think that she felt, at best, that she couldn’t share such a weighty tale with me, and at worst didn’t think I would approve of everything I’d read, but then why leave the box and everything in it in the first place? After I’d gotten off the phone with Florence and calmed down, I packed the journal pages and photos back into their envelope and sighed wearily when I saw a final envelope inside the box with my name written on the front in my mother’s handwriting, this one pink and more in line with an envelope for a card rather than the manila ones that had come before. “Maddy, If you’re reading this then I am grateful that you kept an open mind about my life. I’m sure you have a multitude of questions, and I’m sorry that I’m not there to answer them, but I think I can help you without you needing to ask anything. I wanted to tell you about Lisa, about our relationship and her relation to you, but she made me promise not to for fear that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find out who she was and drive yourself to learn about her as a way to validate aspects of yourself. She was convinced, and I agree, that everyone deserves to become the person they are meant to be without preconceived notions based on heritage. You’re not interested in diapers because I was any more than you’re interested in women because we were, but I do regret not talking to you about some things when I saw the signs that you shared my tendencies, I know you found your own path in life, but I feel that were I to have given you guidance and insight when you were younger, you might have been further along in your understanding of yourself as a woman than you are now. As you may have guessed, the journal pages in this box are segments of a whole, the rest of the journals are somewhere safe and are one of the things I’m leaving to you now that I’m gone. If you look behind the books to the left of the second shelf of the bookshelf in my room, you’ll find a lock that the key in this envelope opens, inside the room beyond you’ll find an updated nursery for you to explore if you’re inclined to, and inside the safe behind the crib you’ll find all of my journals and photos as well as a letter from Lisa and your inheritance. Suffice to say, your mother’s have made sure you’ll have a very comfortable life going forward. I know you’re sad for having lost me, and sadder learning that you lost a mother you never knew you had, but look at the pictures of all of us together when you were a baby and I guarantee you that you’ll come to understand that the love we had for you was complete and total and maybe that can be enough to allow you to be happy despite all of this sadness you’re feeling. Love, Mom” I took the key and hurried to the main bedroom, my vision blurred with tears, my face wet with the same, and found the lock and opened the door, my eyes as big as dinner plates at the size and scope of the nursery within. How I’d never realized the room existed was beyond me, but as I walked past the changing table, my fingers running along the padded top, the neatly folded stacks of cloth diapers beneath, I felt a calm wash over me, a warm embrace from my mother’s now gone that made me feel like they were with me, watching over their baby girl with love. I squatted in front of the safe behind the head of the crib and worked the dial to the numbers on the sticky note on the front of the safe and pulled the handle down with a satisfying thunk sound before opening the door and picking up another pink envelope with my name on it, the handwriting different but no less elegant and sat down on my diapered butt with a dull thud as I pulled the letter within out. “Madeline, I have so much hope for your future that it hurts. I’ve seen your mother grow from the girl I went to school with to the woman I love in our years together, and I know that she will raise you to be as strong and smart and radiant as she is. I knew from the moment I met your mother that I loved her, cliché, I know, but she has that effect, and you clearly inherited that from her as the moment I laid eyes on you in the hospital I knew that you were the most perfect person I’d ever seen. I’m sorry that I won’t be there to see you grow up, to kiss your scraped knees or reassure you that a boy pulling your hair isn’t necessarily a sign that he hates you, to see you in your prom dress or walk you down the aisle on your wedding day, but I’ve seen those things in my dreams and I will be there with you in spirit. I know it hurts you to know that you never had a relationship with me, but I also know that we are not our parents. You will be your own woman just as your mother and I were our own women, and I know that no matter what you choose to do with your life you will be extraordinary at it because you are your mothers’ daughter, and we are two amazing women, even if I do say so myself. Love always, Mom” I hugged the letter and slumped to the floor in a fetal position and sobbed until I tired myself out and fell asleep, waking some time later and a great deal wetter with another feeling of calm filling me up and making me rise to my feet as I set the letter back down in the safe and pulled my phone out to take and send a picture to Florence of the nursery she and I would be enjoying not long from now. I wrote out a few messages to accompany the photo and deleted them, sending it along without saying anything, secure in the knowledge that a picture was worth a thousand words. Epilogue The car headed through the open gates and I sucked nervously on the pacifier clipped to the bib of my light pink overalls, the significant bulge of how ever many layers of cloth diapers Florence had pinned in place around my hips straining against the snaps in the crotch of the overalls, the lemon yellow plastic panties peeking through the gap between the snaps in the overalls and the snaps of the lavender onesie she’d put on me. I’d left the house damp, but the anxiety I was feeling on the drive had ensured that that dampness had grown considerably, not that I was complaining about the warmth encircling my bottom and privates. She was driving, she always drove, teasing me that as a baby, it was ridiculous to think I could drive a car, but as a “rich as fuck” baby, it was wildly inappropriate for me to handle such a pedestrian task on my own, best to let her handle such trivial things. She’d looked back at me in the mirror beside her head a few times since we left the house, but this time she reached back and gave my knee a gentle pat. “Doing okay, kiddo?” she asked. I nodded and turned away from the window to meet her gaze, “Yes, Mommy.” I said, my voice going to that slightly higher and littler pitch that seemed to melt her heart and lubricate her Mommy parts in equal measure. We went around a slight bend in the narrow road and pulled over to the side before she parked the car and shut off the engine, unbuckling her seatbelt before she turned to her side and faced me. “Want me to come with you?” she asked. I reached up and plucked the pacifier from my mouth, “I do, but not this time.” I said in my normal tone of voice, “I need to introduce myself before I introduce you.” I told her. She nodded her understanding, “I’m here if you need me.” she said warmly, her smile carrying the love I needed to push myself to unbuckle my seatbelt, open my door and step out into the real world as my little self. I kept my head bowed, out of respect for the somberness of the cemetery, but also to avoid accidentally locking eyes with anyone else that may be visiting a loved one and making them feel uncomfortable. As I walked, legs spread wider than I would’ve liked, my plastic panties crackled beneath my overalls and I fought the urge to pick the pacifier back up and put it in my mouth before toddling back to the safety of the car, but sooner than I realized, I was standing before the stone trapezoid with my mother’s name on it sticking out of the ground. I lowered myself to a squat, wanting to sit or kneel but not wanting to get in trouble for grass stains on my pretty overalls, and placed the small bunch of yellow and white flowers I’d picked from the garden in the backyard of the house in front of the headstone. “Hi, mom.” I said quietly, sighing heavily, “I feel silly doing this, I mean, I don’t even know if I believe in an afterlife or Heaven or whatever, but I figured that if there’s a chance that you might be able to see me or understand what I’m saying, that maybe I’d better go the whole nine yards.” I said to the headstone. I smiled, “I guess if you can see me then you’ve already seen Florence with me too, but I promise she’ll come up with me next time.” I said. The wind blew gently behind me, the smell of flowers and fresh air carrying the scent of baby powder up from beneath me. “So, I guess you can tell I’ve been making use of the nursery.” I said. “Florence has been an absolute freak about making me wear every single outfit and diaper combination since she got here.” I added. “She’s got quite the photo album built up in your honor, and once she moves here in the Fall, I’m sure she’ll have an entire bookshelf filled up before long.” I continued. A bird chirped in a nearby tree and leaves fell as a squirrel ran across a branch. “This is a really nice spot you got.” I said, looking over at the tree and smiling at the little bench nestled in the shade beneath its canopy. I sniffled and wiped my eyes, “I miss you, Mommy.” I said suddenly, my lip quivering as I tried to contain my emotions. The crunching of leaves behind me made me turn quickly, sending me plopping to the ground on my butt, Florence kneeling behind me a moment later with her hands on my shoulders. “I know what you said, but I also know that I can’t not be here for you when you’re upset.” she said softly. I sniffled and nodded, my hands reaching up to hold onto hers. “Hi, Miss Thomas.” Florence said to the headstone as she sat down behind me and situated me between her legs so I was leaning with my back against her front, her arms snaking around my middle to hug me to her as she softly rocked us with her body. “As you can see, I’ve been taking care of little Maddy in your absence, I hope I can do as good a job as you did with her.” she said sadly before kissing the top of my head. I sighed contentedly in the warmth of Mommy’s embrace and rested my head against her chest and picked the dangling pacifier up to put into my mouth when I saw something and felt an incredible wave of joy wash over me as the silicone bulb passed my smiling lips. Beside my mother’s headstone was a similarly shaped one, though older and more weathered, it was still easily readable. In Loving Memory Lisa Gomez Friend, Wife, and Mother Tears of happiness rolled down my cheeks as the realization that my mothers were together, reunited in their final resting places. I squirmed against Florence and picked up half of the flowers I’d set before my mother’s headstone and toddled awkwardly over to Lisa’s, plopping down on my butt to set them in front of her headstone before looking over at Florence. “Find something, kiddo?” she asked. I nodded, wanting to say something profound like a character in a movie would, like “myself” or “my family”, but the tears wouldn’t stop long enough to clearly make her out anymore than the aching lump in my throat would let me communicate more than barely controlled sobs as I sucked the pacifier between my lips, I settled for a simple “Other Mommy” and waited for her to come to me and hold me until I could elaborate on what I’d said. Florence lost her parents in a car accident when she was little, my mother was disowned by her parents for having an unconventional lifestyle that made her seem crazy, Lisa’s parents showed love by throwing money at their daughter, but me? I was blessed to have three Mommy’s in my life and felt loved by each of them in different ways and even if two of them weren’t physically with us near that tree, I felt like we were sharing in the warmest and most loving embrace imaginable just knowing some part of them was there. The End *AUTHOR'S NOTE* I'd like to thank everyone that read this story, I hope you enjoyed what you read and share any thoughts or feelings you may have below. Loved it or hated it or something in between, all comments and opinions are welcome. Take care and have a pleasant day.

Wow, thank you for that! I've been trying to stay as grounded as possible with this story, which isn't as easy as I thought it was going to be, but I'm pleased to hear that it's going pretty well.

Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying it! it's funny, this story, moreso than anything else I've written, I find myself pulling back more often than not in the things that happen. I've had quite a bit of anxiety as to whether the gravity of mom's situation is getting through as strongly as I want it to without gutting everyone emotionally with too much awful stuff. I've always wanted this story to be intertwining the mother and daughter journey without it being weirder than it needs to be or turning into something hyper unrealistic and it seems like I'm pulling it off for the most part, so I'm very pleased. Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts and for reading my story in the first place, it means quite a lot to me.

VI “The Long, Dark Years: Part Two” “Six months after I got out of the hospital I landed a job. I would’ve gotten something sooner had my body not decided to act up in numerous interviews. I’d been struggling with my continence since leaving the hospital, but between the nightmares and the general unease of being alone in a van where anyone could break in and do anything they wanted to me while I tried to sleep, I quickly spiraled out of control into my regressive tendencies, my already fragile mental state desperately searching for some way to feel safe and relaxed in the face of overwhelming turmoil. The waitress interview at a local diner went South when I couldn’t seem to remember how to do basic addition on a practice check, got frustrated and sucked my thumb to avoid a full blown tantrum. The secretarial job fell through when the heels I’d been wearing suddenly became too much for me to handle and I wound up on all fours in the bustling office, my body recognizing the position and deciding it was time to evacuate my bowels and bladder into my suddenly not so hidden diaper, my new position having pulled my sensible skirt up to give everyone a good show for the gathered employees that I had to awkwardly waddle away from as they laughed at the pathetic little idiot I was. Over and over again I was reminded how ill suited I was for independence and adulthood, and over and over again I cried myself to sleep and prayed for an end to my humiliation and struggling. My prayers were answered in the form of a flier that had ended up tucked beneath the wiper blade of my van, “Model wanted for “unconventional” photo shoots” was the headline, a silhouette of a woman, obviously naked and posing sensually beneath it, and a name and phone number below that. I rationalized that maybe I could get the modeling job, but if that failed, maybe they had an opening for a photographer, something I could do better than whoever “Gus”, the name on the flier, could himself or whoever he had doing it for him now. When I called, “Gus” dismissed me as a kid, telling me not to play on the phone and only when I shouted over him that I was an adult and needed a job did he stop and listen to me and grant me an audience with him later that afternoon.” I’d been dividing my attention between my mother’s journal pages and talking with Florence about what was going on with regards to messing my diaper. I felt genuinely bad that my attention was so easily pulled from my mother’s very serious situation every time my phone buzzed. Florence was jockeying hard for me to use my diaper, and I was committed to doing just that, but the need hadn’t arisen yet. “Gus turned out to be a giant, somewhere in the neighborhood of six and a half feet tall and possibly as wide with all his muscles. He was obviously running things, or acting as the muscle, if such a venture needed one, but he was slinging orders to half a dozen people as I approached him in the warehouse that had been set up as a photography studio. The expansive room had been partitioned into thirty or so smaller areas, separated by temporary walls similar to cubicles in an office, but taller. As I walked past I caught glimpses within through the small gaps between the curtains acting as doors and the small room beyond, women in all leather outfits, a girl on a tarp slathering her naked body with what had been a very pretty looking wedding cake, things that clued me in to what “unconventional” meant as it pertained to the photo shoots. When Gus stood in front of me I felt my diaper warm, looking up at the admittedly handsome man, his short brown hair shaved almost down to nothing atop his head while his facial hair was trimmed neat into a goatee. He was much kinder in person than he had been on the phone, his admiration for my size and for the youthful appearance my features gave me. When we sat down and he discovered I was wearing a diaper, it was like he’d just discovered I was made of solid gold, and our conversation changed from polite getting to know one another to serious offers of employment for me for durations as long as I wanted.” The gurgling in my stomach wasn’t just because I was concerned for my mother getting involved with giant, burly men taking obvious fetish photographs, the likelihood that her admittedly fragile mental state would lead her to being exploited and possibly harmed quite high, but also because I’d come to the moment where I had to decide where I was going to relieve myself. I’d promised Florence I’d go in my diaper, but now that the moment had arrived I found myself wavering in my resolve. “This is just your potty training fucking with you.” she’d responded when I told her I was having second thoughts. “You control where and when you poop.” she’d added, making the already ridiculous conversation that much more surreal to me. “It’s going to be so gross and stinky and I’ll have to clean it up and-” I whined into the phone after calling her to ensure she heard my very reasonable and rational argument rather than just dismiss the words sent in text as uncertainty for something new. She was eating something crunchy and it was very distracting. “So, crunch lemme get crunch this straight, crunch if I were there crunch and you pooped crunch you’d expect me to change you, crunch right? crunch “Well, I mean, you do have more experience with this kind of stuff.” I lamely argued. She scoffed and finished crunching, “How do you think I got that experience, baby?” she asked. My stomach fluttered as my cheeks flushed hotly, “By doing it.” I said begrudgingly. Her smile tinged her voice, “By doing what?” she asked coyly. More blushing. “Pooping in your diaper.” I said quietly. The phone buzzed and my stomach fluttered once more when I looked to see she was requesting a video call, not wanting to disappoint her, I accepted and forced a smile when I saw her. “Since my sweet little baby can’t be trusted to handle this very simple task on her own, and since Mommy knows babies learn better when they’re shown, I want you to sit back and watch me and then show me what you learned, okay?” she asked. My face was burning up with every belittling word and regressive implication as I obediently nodded and watched her set her phone down and get up onto her knees on her couch with her back to me, her babyish diaper fully on display as she looked back over her shoulder at me. “First, press the padding under your bottom up so it bunches just a bit.” she explained as she did so to the seat of her diaper, “This will make it so Mommy can see that you’re going when the padding pushes back out.” she added. I felt absolutely ridiculous being talked to like a potty training toddler in the first place, but the fact that the goal was for me supersede decades of toilet proficiency and fill my diaper was becoming almost more than I could handle as the pleasant hum between my legs grew with every word from Florence. “Once you’re in a comfortable position, just relax and give a little push on your bowels and your body should take over like it does when you’re on the potty.” she continued, a few rude noises coming through the phone a moment later as the pushed in seat of her diaper expanded outward before my eyes. “You’ll feel resistance, that’s just the diaper being there, keep going and eventually,” she grunted and exhaled before breathing in again as the expanding in her seat stopped and she turned and sat down without hesitation to smile a big, toothy grin at me, “you’ll be all done!” she chirped happily. I desperately wanted to rub the front of my diaper, Hell, I wanted to plunge my hand down inside it and give her something to really smile at, but I controlled myself and sighed softly, “Florence, I-” I started to say. She shook her head. “Get your pacifier and put it in that cute little mouth of yours.” she gently commanded. I blushed hotly and complied, an indignant puff of air coming from my nostrils as I sullenly sucked the silicone teat of the pacifier. “First of all, Florence is what grownups call me, not little babies that are going to poop their diapers.” she explained. “Do you know what little babies that are going to poop their diapers call me?” she asked, her smile so fucking endearing that I hated being apart from her. “Mommy.” I said quietly. She nodded. “That’s right!” she praised. “Secondly, you’re going to get into your poopy position so Mommy can see your cute little tushie when you make your little pushies.” she cooed, giggling sweetly, “Mommy rhymed, didn’t she, baby?” she asked. I nodded and obediently got up from the bed and set the phone on the dresser, walking a short distance from it to squat down with my back to it. “That’s perfect, baby, Mommy can see you just fine!” she praised. I reached back and pushed the crinkly padding above my seat inward as instructed and brought my hand back around so my forearms were on my knees but able to brace me if I lost my balance. I closed my eyes and gave a tentative push on my bowels, a muffled fart escaping me, the giggling behind me making me flush anew as the pacifier between my lips bobbed rhythmically as I sucked on it in earnest as exactly what she’d just shown me played out once more, the silence of my bedroom disrupted by soft crinkling, soft grunting, soft giggling from behind me, and an extremely hard to resist urge to not degrade myself further in front of her by giving in to the exponentially growing horniness building within me. The experience seemed to drag on infinitely, the resistance she warned me about seemed like the final “are you sure?” roadblock my body had to push through, the knowledge that the most infantile garment on Earth was actively pushing my mess back into me as if to say, “Umm, you know you’re not actually a baby, right?” to which I had to firmly disagree and give that final push to fill the seat of my diaper and cement my place as the big baby Florence encouraged me to be, and that I wanted to be, but she didn’t need to know that. “Yay!” Florence playfully cheered behind me as I awkwardly turned on my tip toes to face her, still crouched, my face red from what I would claim was strain but that I’m sure we both knew was a heady mix of shame and arousal. “Look at that droopy diaper!” she squealed excitedly. I could see myself in the mirror beside the dresser, my diaper dangling pendulously between my slightly spread legs, the warmth of wetness flooding out of me discoloring the front as I suckled my pacifier and fought my sexual urges. She snickered, “We should play a game!” she chirped, “If I can guess what you’re thinking and feeling right now, you’ll have to do what I tell you, but if I’m wrong, I’ll do what you tell me.” she offered. I wanted to argue, to point out that I’d already done what she’d wanted me to and now I wanted a shower, but she was smiling again and I’m powerless to fight against that fucking smile, so I feebly nodded and steadied myself in my perched position. She leaned forward and picked up her phone, bringing it close to her face so she filled the screen, “I’m betting that my little Maddikins is absolutely aching to touch herself right now.” she whispered, “I’m betting that you’re disgusted with yourself for not caring that your diaper is messy, you just want to finger yourself or hump something until you have a great big climax in your stinky diaper.” she continued. “How am I doing so far?” she asked coyly. Every word leaving her lips was like a tender kiss from her on my throbbing sex, she wasn’t just right, she was teasing me by painting a picture of a fantasy she was keeping me from experiencing by prolonging the moment with her game, but she was an expert in everything that had to do with my arousal, and she was putting on a clinic. I nodded and gave a frustrated little whine through my pacifier. Her smile broadened as she set the phone back down and placed her hand on the front of her diaper, the small, circular motions of her fingertips against the crinkling plastic bringing a shudder to her breath as she softly moaned, “Isn’t it just so unfair that Mommy can touch herself any time she wants, but baby Maddy needs Mommy’s permission?” she asked. I whined again and nodded vehemently, steadying myself once more as I swayed on my quivering legs. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as she began to move forward and backward on her butt, her fingers moving in time with each gentle thrust of her hips. “Should Mommy make you wait until she’s there with you to give her baby the release she so,” she gasped and moaned once more a single eye opening to stare at me hungrily, “desperately wants?” she asked, her nipples straining against the white t-shirt she wore with the “Pampers” logo colorfully displayed across the chest. I shook my head and whined loudly without spitting out the pacifier and using my words to tell her how brutally sadistic such a notion was to even suggest, remaining a good girl for her despite her intolerable teasing. She finished herself off, making an obscene show of it for my benefit, her moans obnoxiously pornographic, her panting genuinely concerning, and the final shudder and rigidity I’d seen a dozen or more times in the past was now more akin to a seizure sufferer than a woman climaxing, but she’d finally concluded her business and sighed contentedly as she grabbed her drink from the table and gulped the remaining half of it, the ice in the glass clinking loudly as a final exclamation point on her over the top display. “Well, I guess that’s it then.” she said between breaths. I glowered at her. She smirked. “Your commitment to Sparkle Motion is undeniable.” she praised, referencing the first movie we’d missed the end of because we were too keen on making out. “See that teddy bear over there?” she asked me. I pivoted, wobbled, caught myself and looked where she was pointing, the old teddy bear I hadn’t been able to toss in the trash or donation pile sitting against the wall beside my open pack of diapers. I looked back over my shoulder and nodded. “Crawl to it and fuck it like it was me.” she instructed as she picked up her phone and sat back on her couch with a satisfied smirk. I got onto all fours and hurried to the teddy bear, not because she commanded it, but because I desperately wanted to fuck the stuffing out of the avatar my beloved has chosen to receive my affections for her. I didn’t even make it to double digits in my animal like thrusting, my body devolving into some sort of jellyfish like creature as waves of pure bliss crashed over and over me as I rolled onto my side clutching my mate and looking up at the very small looking phone on the other side of the vast expanse my room had become in my very tired and completely at ease state. “Not bad for a first try.” she said simply. “You’ve definitely got the ending down.” she added with a giggle. The pacifier dropped from my slack mouth as my lips curled into a smile. “When you regain your faculties, I want you to have a shower and make sure you clean yourself extra good, poop can cause some serious problems if you don’t wash your kitty after play time.” she explained, using a trademark word for the female genitalia that made me cringe. “After your shower get plenty to drink and make sure you get a fresh diaper on before bed.” she continued. I weakly saluted her, giggling stupidly at my small gesture of snark. “I’ll be there next week, so make sure you still have plenty of diapers, okay, baby?” she asked. I nodded. “Yes, Mommy.” I respectfully and sleepily murmured. “Mommy loves you, you big, stinky, baby.” she said sweetly, kissing her camera. I tried to make a heart with my hands and succeeded in loosely clasping them together in front of my chest while drooling on myself as I tried to kiss at her. She giggled sweetly and sighed, “So fucking in love with you.” she said before disconnecting the call. As my body wound down and my diaper cooled, I closed my eyes and smiled at how well I was doing in becoming the baby everyone seemed to know I was before I did. ********* I followed all of her orders to the letter, except for the diaper before bed, that came as soon as I’d dried off from my shower, and opted to spend the rest of the day crawling when I needed to go to the kitchen, it wasn’t the funnest thing in the world, according to my knees, but my lower point of view definitely helped the illusion that I was littler than I actually was. I climbed onto my bed and nursed my bottle of apple juice and continued reading my mother’s journal, wanting to be as good a girl for her as I’d been for my sex Mommy. “The photographs didn’t bother me, I’d taken plenty of my own photos of myself in diapers and playing with toys or drinking a bottle, and Gus decided that he wanted an innocent looking girl like me to be an innocent baby, so the graphic sex stuff I’d seen the other girls in the nursery decorated room doing alone or with each other wasn’t something I had to do either, but Gus had a hold of me from the moment I’d signed my contract, and he kept that leash very short. It was partly my fault for sharing that I was living out of my van and desperately needed a steady job to get an apartment, but he made everything seem like he was my burly benefactor rescuing a helpless baby from being a homeless orphan. It started out innocuous, he’d call for lunch and set me up in the highchair on set to eat my meal, usually something he’d ordered extra of so he could share with me, I’d start getting tired after hours of shooting and he’d offer the crib for me to take a nap in. With our size and strength difference, he would decide that carrying me was quicker and easier than having to wait for me to toddle along behind him, his thick fingers knowing just where to press as he supported my bottom to ensure that my face ended up buried in his broad chest. As time went on and I grew more comfortable around the office and with him, it became clear that he was my caregiver more than he was my boss. I’d stupidly called him “Daddy” one afternoon when he was tucking me into the crib for a nap, and since that day he’d decided he liked the sound of it and wanted me to exclusively call him that going forward. One day my van got towed and I returned to the office in tears, sobbing in his strong arms as he scooped me up and rocked me while patting my back. With nowhere else to go, he made the offer that I live in the nursery set and showed me that his apartment was on the next floor up, ensuring that “Daddy” wouldn’t be far from his baby girl. I should’ve known he’d had my van towed to manipulate me into being dependent on him, but I’d been kicked down by so many people for so long that someone actively appearing to have my best interest at heart made me eager to please as a way of repaying that generosity. Admittedly, he wasn’t a bad “Daddy” in the beginning, kind, gentle, ensuring all of my needs were met and that I felt safe and loved, but charades aren’t built to last, their built to lower defenses and fall apart when the time is right. It started with a line of cocaine. I’d never tried it before, but he made the argument that I’d smoked pot with him and some of the girls, so this was just as safe because “Daddy” would never hurt his baby girl”. I don’t remember much of the night, but I woke up in the crib with a sore bottom and saw blood in my diaper when he changed me. Obviously I could tell any sort of story here, I could say that I quit and saved myself from bad situation, got a legitimate job and lived happily ever after, but the point of this journal is to catalog my experiences, and the truth of the matter is that where I ended up was anything but happy. Two years went by of being his baby, relegated to diapers, living under his rules, a nice cocaine habit numbing me to the constant sodomy that ended up making the diapers all the more necessary. I would cry and plead like an actual baby for him to give me drugs, falling into a weak and malleable stupor night after night just to shield myself from what I knew he was doing to me when I was unable to protest. As this nightly routine went on, my teeth started to rot from having him rub my gums with a finger of coke, and several were pulled to avoid infection, by the time he fired me because I’d become “Just another junkie whore that nobody wants to look at”, I had six teeth in my head and had long since stopped thinking of my living arrangement as part of a job, the fact that I hadn’t seen a paycheck in over a year was a big contributor to the belief that he’d adopted me and I was his baby and he was my Daddy. Just like my biological Daddy, he left me in the gutter like a piece of garbage, and I bought into the belief that if two father figures in my life can fuck me in different but no less painful ways and discard me like I didn’t matter, that I must actually be that worthless. I decided that I’d had enough, suffered enough. I’d started my journey out of high school a fresh face young woman on the cusp of adulthood, and now I was an addict, twice abandoned, incontinent, homeless, jobless, loveless and helpless and I blamed myself for being the way they’d made me. I blamed myself for not keeping my secret life a secret to my parents, I blamed myself for ending up reliant on someone like Gus, and I blamed myself for ruining my relationship with Lisa, just like I’d ruined every other relationship in my stupid, meaningless life.” I was an emotional wreck reading my mother’s journal, tears streaming down my cheeks as I pleaded to any force in the universe that would listen to make her suffering stop. “I went to the bridge at the end of town, my bare feet slapping on the asphalt, the leaking diaper beneath the coat he’d “generously” thrown at me when he shoved me out the door, the size of it making me look like I was wandering the streets in a tan dress rather than a coat. I spied a phone booth at the end of the bridge and thought about Lisa, thought about giving her the courtesy of a final goodbye on the off chance that she remembered me after all these years. Fumbling in each of the pockets until I miraculously found change, I made my way to the glass box, the operator connecting me when I told her the city Lisa lived in and her name and after two rings her melodious voice filled my ear and I wept like the baby I’d become.” To Be Continued...

Good news! My retirement has been postponed until this story is finished!

Aww shucks, my head won't fit through doors if you keep that kind of stuff up. Sincerely, that's the most complimentary thing anyone has ever said to me, not just about a thing I wrote either, just overall, so yeah, I'm gonna retire at the top now. Glad to hear you're still enjoying the story, kerry!

I'm enjoying the absolute stuffing out of it, and I'm really happy that you are as well! You're quite welcome! I know what I want from this story and where I want it to go, but it's exciting to "fill in the blanks" as we go, like we're all going on this adventure with no real knowledge of the space between other than the basics of "mom was a great mom and is dead now". I really like learning about a character after they're gone because we don't get that chance often in life and it's rewarding for her daughter as much as us, I feel. As always, it's so wonderful to hear your guys' thoughts on the story and the fact that they're positive is great, thank you both so much for reading and taking the time to share your thoughts! So, I did something different for this chapter, just as a quality of life thing, I made the journal parts italic for ease of reading and I'd like to know if that's a good choice or not if you have time. If it is, I'll go back and change the rest of the story and if not I'll just change this chapter, but anyway, more story! V “The Long, Dark Years: Part One” “I remember going to camp for the Summer and having three months go by in the blink of an eye, the apprehension of the first year and whether I’d make friends or not, the eagerness to see the friends I’d made the previous year the following year, all of it a whirlwind of emotion that seemed to never be long enough. The hospital my parents committed me to was the opposite of that.” I winced inwardly, knowing that the title written on the envelope and the opening to the journal pages were preparing me to feel awful for my mother by the time I finished, but I took a deep breath, held it, and let it out again to join her on her journey to become the woman I knew, to see her blossom as she had with me when I was growing up, it was a weird experience mentally to see your parent navigating the pitfalls of youth and growing up, but she’d hooked me and I wasn’t about to give up on her when she was at her lowest. “I’ve thought a lot about whether I even want to write about my experience at the “Silver Birch Psychiatric Hospital”, a stupid name for a place with no Birch trees within a hundred miles, by the way, and I decided that if I have to live with the memory of the things I experienced in that place then I damn sure am going to make sure someone else knows about it, though that would require me to share these journals with someone else and I’m not sure I have that kind of strength, but I digress. I went along willingly with what I genuinely believed to be a charade my mother had cooked up to snap me out of the behavior I’d been exhibiting. She and my father had sat me down shortly after the messing incident on the porch and expressed their mutual concern for my mental state, I, still thinking this was part of mere disapproval, sucked my thumb and mostly ignored them in favor of my bare, wiggling toes which I giggled at as they droned on. Eventually, the talking stopped and we were leaving the house, I assumed my mother was planning another public shaming stunt, further from home to create a larger stage for my humiliation and my father was carrying me to the car to prevent me from running back to the safety of the house, but then he was setting me down and settling me into the back seat, my already damp diaper visible through the plastic panties I’d been given no covering for. As we drove my mother cried, something she never did, but I assumed was part of the ruse, a twist of the dagger to punctuate the emotional toll my behavior was having on her. I rolled my eyes and sucked my thumb, kicking my still bare feet nonchalantly as I wet my diaper once more. When the hospital appeared in the distance I figured the game out, scare me into abandoning my carefree second infancy under threat of going to the big scary hospital. When my father helped me out of the car and picked me up again to carry me to the front steps of the building I had my back to the two men waiting for us, the sudden surprise of large hands finding their way around my biceps and hooking beneath my armpits, holding me firmly as they pulled me from my father, their strength and size against my own leaving my bare feet hovering uselessly above the ground as they carted me away from my parents, my father hugging my mother as she sobbed into his chest, the front doors of the hospital shutting with a secure kerchonk sound that made the reality of the situation set in at once.” Part of me worried for my mother’s apparent disconnection from reality based on her description of the events leading up to her commitment, the way she described her behavior during what was obviously a very serious and adult conversation between concerned parents and their college aged daughter was alarming to me, not just because of where it ended up putting her, but also because of how out of character it was for the woman I knew to be sucking her thumb and giggling at her toes like an infant, somehow wearing and using diapers and playing baby as she had with Lisa seemed endearing and sweet, a shared experience between consenting adults, but this situation with her parents and the way she conducted herself both frightened and concerned me for her mental health, the possibility that the hospital may not have been the wrong place to send her given her sudden and near total mental regression. “I don’t know how long I spent in the already wet diaper I’d been wearing when I arrived, but the rash I got from it lasted two weeks. My arrival began with an injection, no explanation as to why or what was in the syringe, just a jab to my quickly exposed and just as quickly recovered butt cheek before I was strapped to a gurney and carted off to a room and left there. Whatever they gave me made me feel like I was the highest I’d ever been while also the most exhausted, the two competing for supremacy in waves that had me giggling at nothing one moment and struggling to stay awake the next. My body felt like it had been packed with cotton one moment, deadening the sensation of filling my diaper at some point, and a feeling that all my nerve endings had their sensitivity turned up to the maximum. I could feel every soaked fiber of my diaper grating against my sensitive flesh like I was being dragged through sand naked, the mess beneath the weight of my bottom became a sentient mass writhing and wriggling within my diaper, searching for a way out. I hallucinated that Lisa was with me, standing at the end of the gurney like a ghost, her worried and pitying gaze making me sob uncontrollably and beg for her to help me. Once I was put in an actual room and not the claustrophobic feeling tomb of a broom closet that was the windowless holding room, things didn’t get any better. I was freed from my stinking and soaked diaper, but barely cleaned, the smell of piss and shit lingering as they tightened the straps around my wrists and ankles to keep me secured to the bed. A kindly looking older man explained what was happening to me, but the drugs they’d put in me made his words seem nearly indecipherable. I weakly struggled against the straps as he talked to me, but another shot quelled whatever rebellion I had and put me to sleep while layers of fresh padding were being affixed around my waist. I drifted fitfully in and out of sleep that first day and night, nurses and orderlies coming in and out in a constant stream that at one point I saw as a kind of centipede made up of all of them moving at once one behind the other, the phantoms of their previous visits lingering to create a maddeningly impossible appearance that the room was filled to the brim with people all doing and saying a hundred things at once.” I shuddered involuntarily and wiped a tear from my eye, my breath trembling in my throat as I reached for the baby bottle of now room temperature juice on the nightstand beside my bed and suckled it, the realization that my throat and mouth were bone dry not coming until the liquid began to flow down my throat as I continued reading. “I retreated into myself once the constant drugging stopped after the first few days, I’d sit by myself in the communal room looking through the metal grate over the window, the laughter and screaming of my fellow inmates making me jump every time they pierced the silence encapsulating me. Time flowed in fits and starts, meals being the only real way of telling what time of day it was, though the medication I was being given made even that a little difficult to keep track of. I’d spend most of the day at my window in a wheelchair, my diaper perpetually damp without much conscious thought on my part, at one point another woman came over to me and stroked my hair softly, her gentle words bidding me to relax as she began to hug me, when I reached up feebly to hug her back she snapped my wrist in such a quick and fluid motion that I simply sat staring at the new angles she’d created as my hand flopped limply back and forth as I turned it this way and that to examine it.” “Jesus Christ.” I thought to myself as I read her account. “The first time an orderly took advantage of me was in my second week. My wrist was in a cast and I was kept in my room all day and night after the incident that had caused it, combined with the drugs, I was little more than a drooling shell, a passenger in my own body with no control over what was happening any more than I had control over my movements or speech. I suppose when someone can’t say ‘no’ to you it’s not rape in the mind of a man that would take advantage of your food caked mouth while you sat placidly, the tears rolling down your cheeks dismissed as reflex from forgetting to blink as he had his way with you. If I’d been able to, I would’ve killed myself in that place, but nothing worked when I bid it to unless I was close to another dose of my medication, but by that point I was too exhausted to do much more than cry over everything I’d lost in coming to this place. Eventually, even the crying stopped, my emotions were so deadened by constant drugging and degradation that I just sat in my wheelchair or lay on my bed and watched things happen to me and around me without reaction. Internally, I’d laugh at the idea that my parents had sent me here to snap me out of my infantile behavior and get me back to being an adult, and this place had effectively rendered me more of a helpless infant than I was when I arrived. I dreamed my mother came to visit and made a big show of crying at my bedside when the smell of feces filled the air without me making any outward indication I was going, but then the dream ended and I was in the dark of my room, painfully aware that the dream was more real than I’d thought as the smell persisted even when I was awake.” I was sobbing and pacing around my room to try and get control of my emotions, the hatred I felt for my grandparents at the abuse my mother had endured at their misguided attempt to “fix” her left me shaking until I finally collapsed in blubbering heap of tears against the wall, my head resting on my knees as I pulled them up to my chest and rocked myself to try and calm down. “When I was finally released I felt a crushing weight in my chest when I looked at the calendar behind the desk in the nurses station, a month had gone by, a single month, since I’d come in, when everything I’d endured had seemed to stretch on for years. I numbly took the envelope the nurse handed me and shuffled to the front door, the sunlight stinging my eyes and the heat of the sun on my skin making everything come to a head as I dropped to my knees on the rocks of the front drive and bawled uncontrollably until I felt like vomiting. They’d given me clothes to wear since I’d arrived in little more than a diaper, plastic panties and a shirt, and I cocooned myself in the sweatshirt and sweatpants that were a size too big as I repeatedly wiped my eyes with the sweatshirt sleeve and tried to open the envelope with shaky hands, the cast on my wrist making it incredibly difficult to manage the fine motor skill needed to accomplish the task. My van keys were accompanied by a letter from my father, a concise and rather curt dismissal of me as his daughter full of chastising remarks about my failure to live up to expectations and the trauma I’d put my mother through. It was made clear that the check included in the envelope was to purchase their freedom from me, and ensure that I never darkened their doorstep ever again. I noticed the trail of liquid cascading down the stairs I was sitting on and began to giggle which turned into a full blown, almost maniacal cackling as I looked at the check, the price of abandoning one’s own flesh and blood, giving up a daughter you claimed to have loved until her choice of lifestyle became too much for you to tolerate apparently amounted to five thousand dollars. Standing on shaky legs, the remainder of the liquid still flowing from my bladder without my consent rolling down my legs within the sweatpants, I tore the check into little pieces and released them to the wind, a smile on my face despite the irreparable fracture in my heart as I walked away from the hospital into an uncertain future of homelessness and loneliness.” I needed a break, needed to clear my mind and feel better before I continued reading my mother’s tale, a part of me suddenly felt incredibly wrong for wearing the infantile patterned diaper given what I’d just read, but the comfort of having my bottom swaddled in the thick, crinkly padding was the only thing keeping me from shutting down completely emotionally. The problem I quickly discovered was that none of my jeans fit over my diaper, and nothing except my pajama bottoms even came close as a substitute, but those were thin enough of a material that the rustle and crinkle I produced with every awkwardly wide step would make it obvious what I was wearing to anyone with working ears. I picked up my phone and texted Florence, “What do you wear over an adult baby diaper when you want to go out?” and then quickly followed it with “Asking for a friend.” Her response was to call me, and a calm washed over me as the screen lit up with the picture of her and I together that I’d set as her profile picture. “Already jumping to public exposure?” she asked without saying hello or waiting for me to do so. “Someone’s getting adventurous in her old age.” she teased. Her voice brought an immediate smile to my face the a look at the scattered journal pages on the bed threatened to snuff out as I hurried out of my room and shut the door behind me, apparently to keep the journal pages from stalking me through the house to attack my still shaky emotional stability. “I’m reading my mom’s journal and it’s really bad right now and I just wanted some fresh air.” I blurted out. The phone buzzed against my head and I pulled it away to see that she was requesting a video call that I hesitantly accepted, her smile making me melt inside when she appeared on the screen. “Hi.” she said sweetly, her voice somehow maternal in its tone despite it being only one word. “Hi.” I said, all of the emotions I’d been dealing with and failing to keep in check bubbling to the surface and spilling over as I slumped down onto the couch and started to cry. “How bad?” she asked. I sniffled and set the phone on the table so it was still pointed at me and wiped my eyes. “Her parents committed her because she started openly wearing diapers and regressing.” I told her, “The place they sent her to abused her and didn’t even pretend to help her.” I added. “Do you think she needed help?” she asked. I looked at Florence and shrugged lightly, “Maybe?” I said, making it sound like a question, “I mean, she had a girlfriend that she did that kind of thing with, but doing that stuff in front of her parents is kind of not okay.” I said, “Right?” I asked. Florence nodded, a contemplative look on her face, “Was she hurting them or herself?” she asked. “Physically?” I asked, “No.” I answered. “But she’d already been on an extended break from school to travel the country and then she goes on break after school gets out and decides to be a baby again? That’s kind of a warning sign that things aren’t okay.” I told her. Another nod and another serious expression, “Remember when I missed like half the school year because of Mono?” she asked. I nodded, recalling the awful stretch of time without her in my life when our relationship was in full swing. “It wasn’t Mono.” she said somberly. “My grandparents,” she sighed, “they got worried about me because I was happy being with you, truly happy for the first time since my parents died, and that happiness made me comfortable with who I was and spurred me to explore things like why it felt good to wear diapers.” she explained. “I started getting careless and wearing diapers outside of for bed and masturbating in them and,” she stopped, her cheeks flushing as she looked up at nothing for a moment, sighing once more, “they came home early one day and caught me masturbating in a messy diaper and sucking my thumb and they got freaked out that I’d lost my damn mind.” she finally said. I listened intently, chewing my bottom lip as she spoke, entranced by her story. “It wasn’t a hospital, it was like one of those “pray the gay away” camps that they sent me to, and it was awful and I-” she looked up again and wiped her eyes with a heavy, trembling sigh, “I had a knife that I swiped from the kitchen at the camp and,” her voice quavered, “I wanted to do it, Maddy, I had the knife and I held it over my arm and I just couldn’t do it, and do you know what made me drop that knife?” she asked. I shook my head softly and wiped the fresh tears rolling from my eyes. “You.” she said, looking into my eyes. “I was scared and depressed and feeling like I was some kind of big, gay, freakshow in the eyes of the only family I had left, but I thought of you and how your hair smells, and the way you blush when we kiss, and a million little things that nobody else would notice but I do because of what you mean to me.” she explained. I blinked and sniffled. “Meant.” I corrected. “No.” she smilingly argued, “All of those things are still true, Maddy.” she said. “Time and distance have separated us over the years, but I still love you just as much as I did then.” she told me. I smiled and made a weird coughing laugh sound that startled us both. “I still love you too.” I told her. “Obviously.” she teased. “Look,” she said after a moment of quiet admiration shared between us, “your mom made the choices she did and unfortunately had to deal with some misguided attempt at help from her parents, and I know what that looks like and it isn’t fun, but you know how the story ends eventually, she has you and lives happily ever after, right?” she asked. I shrugged. “Honestly, with everything that I’m learning, I don’t know that she did.” I said, “I mean, yes, she presented herself as happy and loved me and dedicated the rest of her life to making sure I knew it and was happy, but,” I sighed, “how could she end up happy with all that she lost?” I asked. Florence smiled and shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to keep reading, kiddo.” she said. “I wish you were here to read with me.” I said with an unintentional pout. She nodded. “I think you mean ‘to you’, you big baby.” she teased. “Don’t fret, I’ll be there before you know it.” she added. “You still need fresh air?” she asked. I shook my head, “You balanced me out pretty good.” I told her. She pumped her fist into the air. “Dopamine for the win, baby!” she cheered. I giggled and blew her a kiss, “Love you and miss you.” I said. “Samesies.” she agreed with a kiss planted directly on the camera of her phone. “See you soon, be good.” she said before disconnecting the call. I basked in the warmth in my heart Florence had put there for a few minutes before getting up and returning to the journal pages on the bed, taking and holding a deep breath before letting it out all at once and sitting down to resume reading my mother’s story. “My van was parked on the side of the front of the building and once I clambered into it with my one good hand, I sat and sulked in my piss soaked sweatpants wondering where I would go and what I would do with myself, homeless and jobless, friendless and alone in the world, probably incontinent to some degree, I cried and rested my head on the steering wheel.” I knew why she’d torn the check up, but knowing her situation made it seem like the worst possible choice for her, but I pressed on, reminding myself of Florence’s “happily ever after”, secretly hoping she was right. “The back of the van was packed with my things, clothes, toiletries, the small collection of diapers and baby things I’d gathered from yard sales and thrift stores, and a framed photo of my parents and I from when I was seven or eight. I was sitting on my father’s lap in my Sunday best, the bow stuck on the side of the top of my head making me look like a present from Santa being delivered to my mother who sat beside my father. I knew my mother had put the photo in the box because the envelope taped to the back was folded in half to effectively hide it unless someone picked it up and either felt it back there or turned the frame over and saw it. Her note was the polar opposite of my father’s, and made me cry fresh tears once more when I read it. She blamed him for everything, insisting that he wanted me committed and decided, against her wishes, that I was going to be cut off and disowned, she apologized for abandoning me and repeated at least a dozen times that she loved me and wished things could be different. I saved her letter, not because I believed a single word of it, I didn’t, my mother was a liar when faced with backlash for her actions, and this situation reeked of her passive aggressive bullshit more than it did my father’s controlling dominance over the women in his life, I saved it because I needed a reminder for when I eventually overcame all of this and had a life and family of my own and started to forget what they’d done to me, for when my mother called out of the blue one day years in the future and wanted to make amends because one of them was facing failing health and wanted to die with a clear conscience and the soft part of me felt bad for her, I saved it because even if I pushed this awful experience out of my mind and replaced it with a lifetime of happy memories, I needed to remember what terrible parents they were for abandoning me and sentencing me to endure the abuse I’d survived in the hospital. But I did survive, and I did it without them and if I could survive that then I could survive anything else life through at me.” I was so proud of my mother, not for the first time in general, but also not for the first since beginning reading her journal pages. Being the first of how ever many parts of the “long, dark years”, I knew there was still more rough times ahead for her, but her outlook was one of strength and looking toward a happier future for herself, and with everything she’d faced in the hospital it was good to learn that she believed in herself even though her parents didn’t. I put the journal pages back in the envelope and picked up the next one, setting it down a moment later when my stomach grumbled at me and I realized I hadn’t eaten yet today. Setting the envelope back in the box, I got up and toddled to the kitchen to make myself lunch, my thoughts drifting to the future when said lunch was ready to leave my body and whether or not I was up for experimenting with such a thing. I snapped a selfie in front of my sandwich after making it and sent it to Florence with the caption, “Feeling cute, might poop my diaper later.”. She responded with an eye rolling emoji and “Well, you ARE a big baby after all.” and an emoji sticking its tongue out playfully, followed immediately by, “Pics or it didn’t happen.” and a winking emoji. My heart fluttered and I sighed contentedly as I pocketed my phone in my pajama bottoms, it was becoming apparent that I was falling in love with Florence all over again while also finding out that I was a big baby on top of finding out that my mother had been exactly the same, and I was happy with all of that, happy enough to decide as I sat down and took a bite of my sandwich that Florence was going to get some pictures later that would ensure our next conversation would be very blushy for me. To Be Continued...

Thank you so much! I really appreciate you following my story and I'm super happy that you're enjoying it! I also wonder what happens next, hopefully something that keeps the enjoyment coming!

IV “Various/Anonymous, New York, NY & Home” I was quickly learning that having an interest in wearing and using diapers is almost no fun when you don’t have diapers. Wetting the bed was one thing, I couldn’t control that, but as I scrubbed the wet spot I’d made on the couch and the carpet below, I chastised myself for not waiting until I had diapers to do something like wet myself. I’d opened the nearby window to vent the smell and scrubbed the cloth of the couch until I was confident I’d gotten the brunt of it clean, then did the same for the rug before the discomfort of wet pants made me strip out of my wet bottoms to throw them into the wash before I went for another shower. The cleaning fumes in the living room kept me from hanging out there after my shower so I grabbed my mother’s box and took it to my room and went and got my clean bedding from the drier to make my bed before I settled in to read another of her envelopes. My curiosity was piqued at the heading and the lack of a date, the breaking of the running theme to that point made me wonder what this envelope had in store for me as I opened it and set the photos aside to read the journal pages. “Ten minutes after I left Lisa’s house I stopped in a parking lot and threw all the diapers and plastic panties in the van into a dumpster. I must’ve looked insane, sobbing uncontrollably and screaming obscenities at stacks of cloth diapers as the sailed into the dumpster. If no one thought I was insane for that, then me hiking my dress up to remove the soaked diaper and plastic panties I was wearing to throw that away had to have done the trick. Sufficiently purged of the things I’d chosen to unload my rage and pain on instead of Lisa, I got back in the van and set out to get out of Florida and never return.” My phone dinged and I picked it up and actually squealed excitedly when I saw that my order would arrive at some point that day. “No more wet clothes and bed for this girl!” I thought to myself, realizing with a blush just how silly I sounded being excited to have diapers coming in the mail. I pushed that self consciousness out of my head and set my phone back down to resume reading the journal pages. “By the time I reached New York the van was positively rank with the smell of the accidents I’d had along the way. I kicked myself for throwing out the diapers, the awful discomfort of a developing rash on my butt and private area from sitting on a wet seat for hours on end. I’d thankfully been able to stop for the other need, otherwise I probably would’ve had to cut my trip short because I’d set fire to my van to destroy the evidence.” I tried to imagine being in my mother’s position, having grown so accustomed to wearing and using diapers that not having them ensured disaster for wherever you happened to sit for any length of time, and once again I was struck with such an odd sense of feeling like the woman I’d grown up “knowing” truly was a stranger in so many ways. I’d never in a million years have guessed that the woman that I’d spent my entire time growing up with, the over packer and over preparer was, at one point in her life, in a situation where she developed a rash because she’d had to drive in a piss soaked seat across the country because she’d thrown out all of her diapers. “The hotel I was staying in was alarmingly gross, roaches ran when I flipped on the lights, rats scratched and gnawed within the walls, a man in the hallway that smelled embarrassingly similar to myself had yelled a string of obscenities at the wall he was facing and made me not just jump in surprise when he did so, but sent a small trail of wetness cascading down my thighs in response. So, with all of these setbacks in mind, it’s little wonder that I spent the better part of my first two days in the city in bed crying in a fetal position, moving to the dingy bathtub when I’d accidentally soiled the mattress when nearby gunshots rang out in the night.” I felt like crying for the state my mother found herself in, down on her luck in every conceivable way, unclean, alone and frightened in a huge city with no one and nothing to pull her back from the brink of depression and anxiety. Reminding myself that she ended up fine, a mother to an amazing daughter, owner of her own home, a successful adult by all accounts helped, but it was rough reading about how hard she’d had to struggle at such a young age. “I reinvented myself in New York, I became ‘Clara’, a young woman with her life together and the confidence to walk the streets of the big city unaccompanied as she took photographs for the successful magazine she worked at, but never at night, I’m not suicidal.” I smiled at this news, my mother turning things around for herself, getting out of her funk and on with her life to make the best of her time in New York. “When you hold up a camera to take a photograph of someone, you have a chance of them stopping whatever photo worthy thing they were doing when they noticed you, acknowledging the camera and smiling or waving or showing a peace sign, or telling you rudely not to take their photo, but New York seemed to be a city full of people so busy and focused on their day to day lives that I was free to catch more candid photos of people doing things than I had been in California or Florida. ‘Clara’ never asked for people’s names when she talked to them, that wasn’t her style, she was interested in the story the picture told, not the story the person would spin when asked about what they were doing or thinking or why. The old man playing chess in the park with another old man wouldn’t like to be asked about the numbers tattooed on the inside of his forearm or his relation to the man he was playing with, he just wanted to play chess and share a laugh with another person. The woman hanging her wet clothes on the line connecting one building to another high above the alleyway didn’t want to have her dirty laundry aired while she aired her clean laundry, she was more concerned with the lack of progress she’d been able to make on the coveralls stained with grease and finding out from her neighbor across the line whether the casserole recipe she’d shared had turned out or not. No one paid ‘Clara’ any mind as they bustled down the sidewalks and passed by her, the only time people acknowledged her was when she was ordering food from them or hurrying to the bathroom to avoid an accident, which were happening much less frequently since she’d stopped dwelling on Lisa and her discarded diapers. Moving on from those things and focusing on the people and places around her brought a calm to ‘Clara’ that put her back on track on her adventure.” I was so proud of my mother for everything she’d endured, proud of her for rising above all of it and focusing on her mission of taking pictures and seeing the sights her country had to offer. “By the time I left New York I’d replaced the sadness of losing Lisa and my diapers with the loss of the city I’d come to love in a short time. I loved the way that people moved down the sidewalk so quickly but never touched one another, I loved that the wind carried scents that came in waves, changing from delicious food to sweat to garbage, back to food to urine and back to food, the bad smells not lingering long enough to make you disgusted and the good smells disappearing just in time for your stomach to grumble about wanting whatever food had just been identified. I loved that people were rude when people acted stupid but were polite through silence when everything was running smoothly, I loved that a train ride became theater when a man with a bird perched on his shoulder got the creature to speak and thanked people when a coin was dropped into his tin cup. Growing up in a suburban sprawl of cookie cutter houses that tried so hard to capture what the fantasy of the “American Dream” was by erecting picket fences and keeping the neighborhood as devoid of anyone darker than said fences out as possible meant that I never got to hear arguments in foreign languages, never got to see kids of every race playing in the water gushing from a hydrant on a hot afternoon, the rainbow in the mist of the spray perfectly mirroring the rainbow of races enjoying the refreshing water and onlookers from stoops and storefronts smiling rather than pulling their child away from the different looking kids. A part of me resented being white when seeing these people working their hard jobs and struggling to scratch out a living while I knew that my mother was probably playing bridge with her WASPy friends and having too much wine and my father was golfing somewhere that would call the police if anyone resembling the people I’d seen came within a hundred feet of the country club.” I sighed at my mother’s stance, sad that in all the time since she’d experienced these things, very little had changed with regards to inequity regarding race and equality for all peoples. She was having her mindset changed through experience while passing that belief structure on to me as I grew up, doing what little she could to make a difference by not being part of perpetuating the problem. Again, I was proud of my mother and wished that I’d seen more of the side of her I was learning about when I was old enough to appreciate it. “Back at home I developed my pictures, leaving the ones from Florida for last and prepared to start school. I continued taking pictures, but found the passion sapped from me surrounded by nothing but college students from the same wealth bracket, that is until I met Kevin.” I perked up. “Kevin grew up in what was commonly referred to as “the wrong side of the tracks”, which is to say that Kevin’s parents both worked hard to support their three kids and had managed to be able to send Kevin to college to ensure that he went further in his life than they had. He was smart and funny and tall, his height triggering my inner child once more when we met and I had to crane my neck to look up at him. We had a photography class together and had to share our portfolio’s with the class on the first day, his photos were amazing, an old train going by as three little kids, the oldest in a t-shirt that went down to his shins, the middle jumping excitedly showing his bare feet sticking out of the bottoms of the legs of his torn jeans, and the youngest in a drooping diaper mid fall onto their butt as the middle child they’d been holding onto betrayed their trust by jumping suddenly, excitedly cheered the train on for no reason other than it was a big noisy train that was cool to be so close to. There was an old, blind, black man sitting on a porch with an equally old dog laying asleep beside the rocking chair, the mason jar of foggy liquid, most likely lemonade, sweating on the knotty wooden table beside him as he was in mid laugh. The way Kevin captured innocuous things and presented them as both seemingly supremely important and also beautiful was what drew me to him, that and he really was just amazingly pleasant to listen to and look at.” I’d taken a break from reading my mother’s journal to put my shorts and panties into the drier and to check the front door for the package that had arrived, finding a large box sitting beside the door that I dragged inside and opened excitedly like Christmas morning was happening. Babyish diapers in my size? Check. Bottles? Check. Pacifiers? Check. Wipes and powder? Check and check. I secreted the box to my room and wasted no time in changing into my new acquisition, the feeling of the thick padding hugging my body sending my fingers to the crinkly center of the front of my diaper almost as soon as the last tape was secured. I stopped myself long enough to open the pack of pacifiers and slip one into my mouth before I went to work on myself, christening my new diaper with a gush of pure bliss before sullying it with a full bladder’s worth of pee, leaving my nether regions floating for a moment before everything was soaked up and my once white diaper was now splotched with deep yellow. “After class we talked, sharing our mutual respect and appreciation for one another’s pictures, the conversation moved from the hall outside the classroom to the library, the topic changing to my travels and his family, then from the library to a diner a few miles away that he drove us to, the conversation shifting to our relationship statuses, and then to us in the backseat of his car, the conversation devolving into little more than grunts and moans. Life became more normal with Kevin as my boyfriend, sure, he wasn’t satisfying my inner child as Lisa had, but he wasn’t hurting her either. He’d do little things that meant nothing to him but made me feel small and looked after, like letting me wear his jacket when the wind got chilly, the size difference between us making me look like a little girl wearing her daddy’s jacket, he’d let me ride on his back when it was getting late and we’d been walking all day, he’d hold me after sex and make me feel like I was safe in the strength of his arms. I grew comfortable being in a relationship devoid of anything weirder than anal sex, the feeling that I’d been so silly to pin all my hopes and dreams on a Mommy/baby relationship with Lisa that I lost sight of the normal things we could and should’ve been doing as a couple made me feel badly for how selfish I’d been with Lisa and a reminder to sit down and write her a letter to let her know how sorry I was for losing sight of how important she was to me in favor of focusing on what she could do for me.” I slipped off into a nap shortly after my fifth orgasm in my heavy, sodden diaper, the pacifier in my mouth working slowly and rhythmically between my lips as my eyes closed and sleep overtook me. ********* I dreamed of Florence again, though she wasn’t in charge anymore, but rather was with me in the overly large playpen in the living room. We were both topless, our bulky diapers on full display as she lay on her back with a soft toy in her mouth, squeaking it as she chewed on it and kicked her legs lazily in the air while I watched her without trying to seem like I was watching her as I pretended to build a block tower. My mother came up to the side of the playpen and smiled down at me, her towering height bringing a dribble of wetness into my diaper as I looked up and up and up until I finally found her face. “Go play with her, Maddy.” she urged in an ethereal and distant sounding voice. I nodded and crawled to Florence, clumsily losing my stride and falling flat on my face right in the warm, wet padding of her diapered crotch. My phone ringing woke me up and I answered the phone groggily with what might’ve been words. “Shit, I woke you, didn’t I?” Florence asked. I mumbled something I thought could be construed as words assuring her things were fine. “Riiight.” she said, drawing the word out as though she didn’t believe my incoherent burbling was normal and not because I’d just been having another dream about her after cumming my brains out into my wet diaper. “Well, I’ll text you in case you don’t remember this conversation, but I won’t be able to come out there for another week, there’s a dog show coming to town and I’m going to be crazy busy with people doing check ups on their dogs.” she explained. “S’fine.” I mumbled. Her smile was on her voice. “Go back to sleep, baby, I’ll talk to you soon.” she said. “Love you.” she added. I smiled and felt my heart skip a beat at the knowledge that she still loved me, even just as friends, though I sincerely hoped if she was planning on coming all the way out to see me she was at least somewhat interested in rekindling our romance. Sleep kicked me in the head hard and forced me back to sleep, my dreams evaporated and only deeply replenishing rest remaining. ********* When I woke up I was elated to find the bed bone dry and even more elated to find my diaper soaked but not leaking. I changed into a fresh one and made myself some coffee before diving back into my mother’s odyssey. “Much like with Lisa, there was a moment where I actually felt content that this could be the person I spent the rest of my life with, Kevin had fulfilled me as Lisa had without me wearing diapers or playing baby and that meant that we were together because of the people we were and not because of something that turned us on. When he broke up with me because he’d gotten another girl pregnant I felt every disappointment and betrayal I had with Lisa magnified a hundred fold because his cheating on me had gone unnoticed to the point that he’d formed a strong enough relationship with another woman to want to marry her and raise their child together while making me feel like I was the only person woman in his life.” I sighed heavily at another setback in my mother’s happiness, the happiness I’d felt for her bouncing back from Lisa deflating as she had to deal with not just losing another love but also being cheated on which I knew from experience hurt just as much if not more than being dumped. “By the time school ended for the year, I was moping around the house with nothing to do and no one to do it with, spending most days in bed feeling sorry for myself. I started slipping back into the bad habits of my youth that Summer, returning to arguing with my mother like I’d done in middle and high school, sleeping the day away and sneaking out at night to drink and smoke pot with the kids from high school that hadn’t gone to college. I started intentionally wetting the bed in an attempt to get back to the diapers that made me feel safe and secure, but all I got was lectures about ruining the mattress and a plastic sheet and my mother and father limiting my fluid intake before bed. Faced with the reality that wetting the bed wasn’t cutting the mustard, I started wetting myself during the day, ruining a couch and two chairs before my mother finally relented and had my father bring home toweling diapers and plastic pants from the drugstore. So it was that my second infancy beneath my parent’s roof began, my days of sleeping replaced with playing on the floor of my room in my diaper, a swell of pride when my mother wanted there to be shame at the diapers and plastic pants hanging on the line to dry for the neighbors to see, I loved it and she hated it, taking every opportunity to make snide remarks and belittle me in an effort to bring me out of my infantile behavior and back to my normal age in time to return to college when school started back up. I never wavered and never gave in. When she pushed, I pushed back, when she unpinned my diaper and spanked me, thinking that a childish punishment would snap me out of the “game I was playing”, I wet myself on her lap, when she tried to publicly shame me by pushing me out of the house in nothing but my diaper and shirt, I squatted down and messed myself and forced myself to start crying as I wailed “Mommy” at the top of my lungs until she opened the door and let me back in with a look of disgust on her face. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when they committed me, but it did.” My arm and jaw went slack as I finished the final page, searching the bed and envelope for more pages and groaning in frustration when none were found. Committed? I couldn’t believe that my mother had been committed for being an AB, or at all for that matter, she’d obviously never mentioned anything about it, though she’d also told me her parents had died before I was born and now I wondered if that was actually true and not just something she’d made up to keep the truth from me. I sighed and picked up her photos. The same thing she said she loved about Kevin’s work was just as true with hers, the lighting on the two men playing chess in the park made them look like statues in deep contemplation of a move that was forever waiting to be made. The woman hanging her laundry on the line above the alley looked forlorn in a way that only seeing an endless routine of washing and hanging clothes until the day you died unfulfilled and full of regret at the life you wasted. The kids playing in the hydrant were so happy despite all the signs of poverty around them, the smiling onlookers didn’t just seem to be smiling because it was heartwarming to see kids having fun and cooling off on a hot day, they seemed to be smiling because they remembered hot days being combated in the same way, they seemed to smile because for a moment they could focus on something pure and innocent while various ism’s and worldly concerns stalked their waking world. She had pictures of the overly tall and ridiculously good looking Kevin, pictures of the two of them together as a couple before he betrayed her and broke her heart. One in particular of her on his back, head rested against him hid the “inner child” she’d spoken about, the thing I knew to be her Little side, she was wearing his jacket and looked almost like a baby in a papoose on his bag all bundled up in the oversized garment, to the untrained eye they looked like a happy couple that had stopped to take a photo of something chivalrous being shared between them, but I could see the contentment in her tired eyes, the look of a young woman about to put her thumb in her mouth and drift of to sleep while Daddy carried her to bed on his strong back. The final picture was of my mother on the floor of her room in her diaper and plastic pants, a well worn looking doll clutched against her bare breast, the tan lines of bikini tops shielding the goods from the Summer sun stark white against the tanned rest of her body. There were wooden blocks littering the floor around her and her hair was a mess as though she’d literally tumbled out of bed and snapped a photo with no concern to her appearance given. The thing that struck me the most about the photo was the look on both her face and in her eyes, it was the exact same that I’d seen in her photo’s with Lisa, a pure innocence without a hint of shame or embarrassment. I sat back and wondered if she truly was just a baby at heart and allowing that to be her outer facade rather than laying dormant within made her so blissfully happy that it showed in her face and eyes without looking for it, or if she was just such a good actress that she could capture a baby’s innocence just by pretending. Whatever the case, I didn’t look forward to continuing her saga and learning that her parents had killed that part of her by putting her in a hospital. To Be Continued….

Chapter Nine Zelda Illiana’s moans and cries of passion died down once she came and I slowed my lapping speed until I was gently cleaning the mess she’d made with kitten like lightness. I looked up at her over her stomach and felt a stirring inside my diaper as I saw her erect nipples straining against her thin shirt. Wiping her juices from my face, I crawled forward and lay beside her, gently draping my arm over her middle, feeling the rise and fall of her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. I thought about kissing her again, wanting to kiss her to prolong the physical intimacy for as long as possible but also because she was exceedingly nice to kiss. “This never happened.” she panted, looking at me briefly from the corner of her eye before she sighed contentedly and closed them once more. I started wetting my diaper as the gears in my head started turning. “You don’t want Athena to find out about this then?” I probed. She shook her head. “She told me the rules and I promised her nothing would happen,” she scoffed, “shit, I never thought anything would happen.” she said incredulously. I nodded softly, “So, I should keep this a secret then?” I asked her. She nodded her agreement but didn’t say anything. I cleared my throat, “What do I get for keeping your secret?” I asked, my heartbeat quickening as I stepped off the edge into uncharted territory. Her eyes opened and she turned her head to stare at me in disbelief, “Are you blackmailing me?” she asked in surprise. I shook my head, “No, but I am making sure that if you’re happy and Athena is happy that I’m happy too.” I said innocently. She stared for a bit longer, “I thought you were happy.” she said. I shrugged nonchalantly, “I could be happier.” I told her. Her face softened and she sighed contentedly once more and closed her eyes, “What do you want?” she asked. I swallowed hard, “I want you to help me make a dating profile on the site you met Athena on.” I told her. Again, her eyes went wide and again she was staring in disbelief, “You’re married!” she reminded me. I nodded, “To a beautiful woman that I love very much.” I agreed, “But…” I trailed off, feeling extremely nervous about what I needed to say and struggling to form the words, “you were right.” I finally squeaked out. Her eyebrow raised, “About?” she asked. I closed my eyes and chewed my bottom lip, “I’m curious about being with a man.” I blurted out as quickly as possible as though the words were fire in my mouth. She smiled and rolled onto her side to face me, her warm hand caressing my cheek softly for a moment before she sweetly kissed my lips. “I know that was hard to admit, but I’m very proud of you for saying it.” she said. “But, I’m not proud of you blackmailing me.” she added sternly. I nodded softly, “I’m sorry, I promise I won’t tell anyone anything about what happened.” I apologized, slipping effortlessly back into my role as the submissive baby girl of the house. She nodded softly, “Thank you.” she said warmly, looking like she wanted to kiss me once more but stopping herself and shaking her head before chuckling softly, “Sorry, I get really affectionate and kinda clingy after sex.” she said before rolling away and sliding off the edge of the crib, stretching with her back to me and giving me a nice view of her bare butt before she turned and picked up her shorts and panties and dressed herself. “So, what kind of profile are we making?” she asked while as she shimmied into her clothes. I shrugged, “What do you think?” I asked, “I’ve never done something like this before.” I admitted. She smiled at me and buttoned her shorts, “Well, I assume you’re looking for someone that would be interested in a baby girl,” she said, “unless you just want a grownup relationship.” she offered. I shook my head softly and blushed, “I think someone that likes diapers and baby stuff would be best.” I said. She nodded and reached her hands out for me to take and pulled me to the end of the crib, smiling as she looked down at the front of my diaper, “You’re just a little fountain, aren’t you?” she teased, gently pressing her fingers to the still warm plastic. She helped me out and kissed my cheek before she hugged me, “Why don’t we get you dressed and then we can talk about your profile.” she said, going back to the closet for something for me to wear. ********* Illiana sat on the couch with me laying beside her, my head on her thigh as she worked on her laptop, periodically reaching over to stroke my head while I quietly sucked my pacifier. I looked down at the dress she’d put me in and felt very cute, the little circles of baby blue and pink and yellow on the white cotton reminded me of the Wonder Bread package in the best possible way, bringing back memories of my mother making me PB&J with the crusts cut off when I was her baby girl. “Would you like to hear what I’ve got so far?” she asked, looking down at me. I nodded softly and sucked harder on my pacifier. She put her hand on my arm and lightly stroked my shoulder with her thumb, “My name is Zelda and I am a thirty four year old, married man that is exploring the baby girl within. I enjoy wearing and using diapers, dressing up in cute and or pretty outfits, and playing. I’m looking for a man that will nurture the baby girl inside me as well as exploring a sexual relationship. I’ve never been intimate with a man before, so we would need to take things slowly, so patience is key when it comes to interested parties. As I said, I am happily married and not looking to change that, so any dates or encounters would need to be discreet and somewhere that isn’t my home. I’m very excited to meet someone!” she read. My stomach fluttered as she read and I found myself smiling behind my pacifier when she finished, looking up at her as she looked down at me, “I like it.” I said happily. “Thank you.” I added. She smiled and nodded, “Of course, sweetheart!” she chirped. “This is the picture I used.” she said, lifting her laptop up and tilting it above me to show me the picture. The picture was of me in the lavender dress on the night of my “birthday party”, I was smiling behind my pacifier at the camera, my diapers peeking out beneath the dress as I sat with my legs splayed in front of me in a very unladylike pose, but I looked adorable and was sure that if anyone were going to be interested in me, that photo would be the thing that did it. “Look good?” she asked me, smiling at me again. I nodded excitedly. “What happens now?” I asked. She returned the computer to her other side and clicked a few times before closing her laptop and setting it aside on the side table, “Now, you wait for messages!” she cooed, lifting my head and turning herself so I was resting my head between her legs. “There are rules for this, honey.” she warned. “What kinda rules?” I asked. “First, you’re not meeting anyone without me knowing about it and approving them.” she said as she began to lightly scrape my scalp with her fingernails, making me melt where I lay. “Second, no sex on the first date.” she said. I blushed but nodded. “And finally, and this is the most important one, this is our secret and even if you meet a man that you fall in love with and want to spend the rest of your life with, you will tell me and only me about it and we will tell Athena and Petra about all of this together if we need to.” she said. I nodded again, “Yes, ma’am.” I agreed. “Do you really think I could fall in love with someone?” I asked. She smiled down at me and shrugged, “I don’t know, angel, but we need to be open to that possibility, right?” she asked. I shrugged softly, “I guess so?” I said quizzically. “For right now, you just relax and be my cute and sweet little Zelly baby.” she said, sliding her hands down the length of my body to lift the hem of my dress upward to expose my diaper. “It’s almost time for your nap, and someone didn’t make her morning poopy.” she warned. I nodded obediently and closed my eyes as I pushed down on my bowels and began to fill my diaper at her implied request, opening my eyes to see her smiling widely down at me and making my cheeks flush once more. “Good girl.” she praised as she lightly rubbed my exposed tummy before giving it a little tickle that made me giggle and squirm. “God, if I was a guy, I’d absolutely snatch you up.” she mused, leaning down, “Then again, with how good your little mouth is, I’m having trouble not wanting to do that as a woman.” she whispered before suppressing a giggle as she blushed. ********* My dreams during my nap were kind of all over the place, I was at my D&D game night with my guy friends but then Alan was scooting back his chair and patting his lap and I wasn’t Zack anymore, I was Zelda, but not the Zelda that existed now, the Zelda of the future, her hair grown out to shoulder length and done into twin pigtails on either side of her head, her bubblegum pink lipstick and other face makeup giving her the look of a woman until she stood up, bulky diapers rustling beneath her pretty pink, frill adorned dress and toddled over to Alan to park herself on his lap. Alan was a tall, skinny guy around my age. He was clean shaven and as he watched me waddle over to him, the lenses of his horn rimmed glasses reflected the light making his eyes invisible beneath the glow. He smiled broadly as I took my place on his lap, facing the rest of the men gathered around the table. I felt his dick beneath me, even through my diaper and his pants, pressing against my butt, feeling harder with each passing second. He wrapped his arms around my waist and nestled his face between my shoulder and jaw and lightly kissed my neck, making me shudder with pleasure as his hand went beneath my dress and began to rub my achingly stiff cock. The room faded away and we were no longer at the table, but laying together in bed, him behind me and me as his little spoon, his strong arms wrapped around my middle as he teased the head of his cock against the crack of my butt. “Does Zelly need Daddy’s toy?” he whispered into my ear. I nodded eagerly and wiggled my bottom against his hardness, gasping and moaning softly as he entered me and kissed my shoulder, his gentleness and strong embrace making me feel every bit the baby girl I felt like. Things shifted again and Robert, another of my D&D friends was standing in front of where I lay on the bed, Alan still satisfying me from behind. Robert’s massive black cock was hanging in front of me, and I felt myself begin to drool as he picked it up like a giant burrito and held it to my lips. “Did you have a nice nap?” Illiana asked as she lowered the side of the crib and handed me a bottle of apple juice to drink. My face felt flushed and I nodded softly as I nursed the offered bottle. “Are you okay?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead, “You’re so warm.” she said, her tone tinged with worry. I popped the nipple of the bottle from my mouth, “I had a sex dream.” I confessed. She smirked and sat down on the mattress beside me, “Must’ve been a steamy one.” she teased. I sheepishly nodded. “About me?” she asked. I shook my head and returned the bottle to my mouth, the cool liquid a welcome relief to my dry mouth and throat. “Petra?” she asked. I shook my head again. She smirked and giggled, “A boy?” she asked. I blushed hotly and nodded. “Aww!” she gushed. “Anyone I know?” she asked. I shook my head and popped the nipple from my mouth again, “Some guys I played D&D with.” I confessed. “God, it feels like forever since we played that.” she mused. “Wait, guys? As in multiple?” she asked. I nodded. She scooted closer. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, tell me all about it, girl!” she urged. I took my time and reluctantly told her the details of the dream and she sat entranced the whole time until I was done and she pulled me into a big hug. “That’s a big deal, honey.” she told me, “I didn’t have sex dreams about girls until I met Petra, and that was because we’d actually had sex when we met.” she explained. “Good for you!” she praised. “It’s not weird?” I asked. “I mean, that I dreamed about having sex with two guys I’m not even remotely attracted to?” I clarified. “No, it’s not weird, and I’m sorry to have to be the one to break it to you, but I think you might be a smidge attracted to them.” she said. “But who cares? It’s not like you’re planning on showing up to your D&D game as Zelda and forcing yourself on them, right?” she asked. I shook my head vehemently. “So no big deal.” she said. “Now, I made you a yummy lunch and I think we should watch a movie together after you eat and we can snuggle on the couch together, sound good?” she asked. I nodded and hugged her again. “Thank you, Illiana.” I said softly. She kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back, “Anytime, cutie, what are babysitters for?” she asked as she pulled away and stood up, fetching my dress from the closet and slipping it on over my head before she helped me up and out of the crib and led me by the hand out to the dining room. ********* The rest of the day was spent watching a Rom Com and cuddling on the couch followed by a bath for me after another messy diaper, and then me sitting at the dining room table coloring a picture for Petra and another for Athena while Illiana made dinner. By the time the car pulled into the driveway dinner was nearly done and Illiana urged me to greet Petra and Athena at the door with my pictures, so I hurried over, pictures in hand, and waited like an eager puppy for the front door to open. “...in the bathroom for me, young lady.” Athena was finishing saying as she opened the door and jumped when she turned from Petra to see me standing there in my pink onesie and fuzzy pink slippers with the fake jewels adorning the top. “Well, hello, Zelda.” she said, her face changing to a smile. I held up her picture to her, “I colored this for you.” I declared. She took the picture and looked at it and then set her purse down to hug me tightly, “It’s lovely, sweetie, thank you!” she gushed. I looked over her shoulder at Petra, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes puffy and red, her eye makeup smudged and wiggled out of Athena’s arms to go to Petra and hug her. “I colored you a picture too, Petra.” I said softly. “What happened to her?” I asked Athena. Athena stood up and sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about, angel.” she said. She turned to Illiana in the kitchen, “Hi, baby.” she said wearily, “Dinner smells amazing, but we need a bit before we’ll be ready to eat.” she explained. Illiana nodded, “Anything I can do to help?” she asked. Athena shook her head, “Just keep everything warm and keep Zelda entertained.” she said. I let Petra go, standing dumbly with the picture I’d colored for her in my hand as Athena took her by the hand and led her down the hall. Illiana appeared beside me a moment later and rubbed my back, “I think maybe Petra had a rough day, honey, but Mommy will sort her out.” she told me. “Why don’t we put her picture by her place at the table so she can see it before dinner.” she offered. We sat together on the couch while we waited for Athena and Petra to return, Illiana cuddling me once more as I sucked my pacifier and fretted about Petra. When they did return, Petra was dressed in her footed pajamas and nighttime diaper, still being led by the hand by Athena who had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. Athena led Petra to the table and pulled out her chair for her and pushed it in when she’d sat down. “Alright, we’re ready.” she declared, turning her attention to us. Petra was smiling at the picture I’d colored for her and smiled at me as Illiana helped me into my highchair. “How was work?” Illiana asked Athena. Athena was pouring wine for herself and Illiana and sighed wearily, “A day of tears from pulled hair by a boy clearly crushing on a girl, lecturing two boys about why the drinking fountain isn’t a toy, and then I learn that little Petra wet her panties at work.” she explained, shooting a sharp gaze at Petra. “What happened?” Illiana asked Athena rather than Petra. “Tell her the story.” Athena commanded Petra as the pair brought plates of food out to the table, my plate going on the highchair tray and Petra’s going on the cloth mat in front of her. “Can’t you tell her?” Petra whined. Athena sighed. “Clearly I should’ve spanked you before I got you ready for bed.” she said, her annoyance palpable as she sat down and Illiana set her plate in front of her and sat down next to her with her own plate. “Tell her the story or you can go to bed without dinner.” she warned. Petra pouted. “I had a really long meeting and I couldn’t leave to go to the bathroom and I accidentally peed a little when I was hurrying to the bathroom because I almost bumped into a lady coming out when I was going in.” she hurriedly explained. Illiana looked to me and smiled, “Eat your dinner, baby.” she sweetly urged when she saw me looking sympathetically at Petra. I did as she asked, spearing my green beans with my pink plastic baby fork and putting them into my mouth. “So now, she gets to wear training panties for a week, and if there’s even a drop of pee in them she’s back to diapers for a week, isn’t that right, Petra?” Athena asked. Petra sulked and chewed her dinner glumly, “Yes, Mommy.” she said quietly. Athena turned her gaze to Illiana, “How was your day?” she asked in a much brighter tone than the one she’d used with Petra. “Fine, Zelda took the day off because she wasn’t feeling well and we cuddled on the couch and watched a movie and she colored a picture for each of you.” Illiana explained. Athena turned to me, “Are you feeling better, honey?” she asked. I nodded and put one of the little cut up pieces of pork into my mouth. Athena smiled and turned her attention back to Illiana, “Did she get her nap?” she asked. Illiana nodded. “Right on time.” she confirmed. “Well, at least there are some good girls in this house.” Athena said, glancing at Petra who blushed and quietly continued eating. “It was an accident!” Petra exclaimed. Athena sighed and stood up, putting her napkin down on the table, “Say goodnight to everyone, young lady.” she commanded, going around the table and pulling Petra’s chair out to snatch her by the wrist and pull her to her feet before dragging her down the hall. Illiana stood and brought her chair over to the side of the highchair and sighed as she sat down and took my fork from me to start feeding me, “That girl just doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut, does she?” she asked rhetorically. “Is she gonna be okay?” I asked after swallowing my bite. Illiana nodded. “Athena will punish her and make her cry, but she’s a very good and loving Mommy and she would never hurt anyone, honey.” she told me. ********* After dinner and helping clear the table, Athena and Illiana put me into the crib with Petra, giving me a bottle of warm breast milk to nurse as they each kissed my forehead and wished me a good night before putting up the side of the crib and leaving me in the nightlight lit room with my still sniffling wife. I snuggled in behind her and hugged her tightly from behind while I drank my bottle. “It really was an accident.” Petra said quietly, her words muffled by the pacifier she was sucking. I set the bottle aside and kissed the back of her head, “I believe you.” I told her. She sighed, “I really did try to make it, and be a good girl.” she said sadly. My years as a Daddy kicked back in and I gently rubbed her stomach through her fleece pajamas, “It’ll be okay.” I reassured her, “Mommy isn’t really mad at you, she’s just trying to help.” I reminded her. She took my hand in hers and gently moved it from her stomach, “That’s not a good idea right now.” she said softly. “Sorry.” I said sheepishly. She rolled over to face me and pulled the pacifier from her mouth to kiss my lips softly, “Don’t be sorry.” she said. “It’s very sweet and I do like it when you rub my tummy, but I was so stressed all day about my accident that my tummy isn’t very happy.” she admitted. “You gotta poop?” I asked. She nodded softly and whimpered. I sighed, “Why didn’t you go before she got you ready for bed?” I asked. “I can’t poop with her standing there!” she hissed. We were both quiet for a moment before she whimpered again and farted. I picked up the pacifier from the mattress and gently put it into her mouth before I reached down and resumed rubbing her stomach. “Let it out, honey, you’ll feel much better if you do.” I whispered softly. She sniffled and started to cry softly as the sounds of her diaper filling began to emanate from beneath her pajamas. “She’s gonna be so mad in the morning.” she whined. I kissed her forehead softly and rocked her as she continued going, “Shh, it’ll be okay, Pet.” I said, the name I’d given her and used the entire time I was Daddy rolling from my mouth without thought. We lay together until she was done and then she hugged me tightly, “I love you.” she said softly. “I love you too.” I said, letting her go so she could roll back over and snuggle back into me, the seat of her diaper pressing against the front of mine in a strangely arousing parody of our life as it had been as Daddy and baby, now two baby girls trying to figure out who they were in their own lives, happy in the knowledge that we weren’t alone in our journey’s. To Be Continued…

Chapter Eight Illiana After the house meeting, Rochelle and Ducky had retired to their room to reconcile, and I sat alone in the living room for a little while smiling at how sweet the two of them were together before I got up and headed to our new bedroom, the clean sheets I’d put on the bed that afternoon looking very inviting as I began to strip out of my clothes to wait for Athena in the bed. “They go down okay?” I asked her when she finally entered the room and closed the door behind her. She nodded and slipped her heels off. “I think the hardest part of all of this is going to be keeping her from regressing.” she said as she came to my side of the bed and turned for me to unzip her dress for her. “She’s a very fluid girl.” I said. “One minute she’s ruling the house with an iron fist and the next-” I started to say. “She’s asking Mommy for a “binky” for bedtime.” she interrupted, sighing softly as she slipped out of her dress and went to hang it up in the closet. I rolled my eyes, “She needs a spanking.” I said. “And she’ll probably earn one.” she told me, “But, I don’t teach through pain fear, I teach through patience and understanding.” she explained. “Which works for kids, but Petra-” I started to argue. “Is nothing more than a child in an adult body.” she insisted, “She’s agreed to everything I’ve proposed and accepted my terms and I won’t turn around and start punishing her for no reason because of her past behavior.” she reminded as she unhooked her bra and shimmied out of her panties to come join me in the bed. I felt my cheeks flush as she climbed in beneath the covers and checked to make sure I was wearing my overnight diaper, kissing my cheek softly as she smiled warmly at me. “Good girl.” she praised. I cleared my throat, “I wanted to talk to you about something before bed.” I said. “Oh?” she asked, leaning over to get her lotion from the nightstand and begin applying it to her hands and elbows. “With Petra out of the picture, Zelda doesn’t have anyone to take care of her,” I hesitated, “urges.” I finally said, feeling extremely awkward about the words I was saying. “I wanted your permission to help her with that.” I added. Her eyes narrowed, “You want me to give you permission to have sex with Zelda?” she asked. I shook my head vigorously, “No!” I exclaimed, “I want your permission to be allowed to give her release the way Petra does.” I corrected. She raised an eyebrow, “And how does Petra do that?” she asked, moving to lotion her legs and feet. I was blushing again, “She,” I paused, “stimulates her bottom.” I told her, finally finding the words that brought the least redness to my cheeks. She smirked, “So, you want permission to play with Zelda’s butt so she can cum?” she asked. “Well, when you say it that way!” I whined. She smiled and kissed my cheek, “I’ll approve it, on a few conditions.” she said, setting the lotion back on the nightstand and pulling the blankets over herself and me into her embrace. “First, she isn’t allowed to touch you.” she said. “I wouldn’t let her.” I reminded. She nodded, “Second, her diaper stays on except to access her bottom.” she said. I nodded my agreement. “And finally, if I notice anything I don’t like about it, not only will it never happen again, but your time together will only ever be supervised by me after that.” she warned. I looked up at her, “Do you really think I’d do anything with her to risk losing you or your trust?” I asked. She shook her head, “No, but as the Mommy here, it’s my responsibility to lay down the rules and make sure you know the consequences of breaking them.” she explained. “I trust you implicitly, sweetie.” she said, kissing my forehead before she reached over and shut off her light. I nestled into the crook of her arm and draped my arm over her bare stomach, “I love you, Mommy.” I said, kissing her breast softly. She squeezed me gently with her arm, “I love you too, you dirty little pervert.” she teased, making both of us laugh in the darkness of our new room in our new home. ********* I’d painstakingly crafted the chart in the kitchen for Petra’s chores, a whiteboard with a hand drawn grid of the days and corresponding duties, filling in what Athena had supplied for me as Petra’s responsibilities. In addition to the chore chart in the kitchen, I’d also designed a board for who was home or out to keep track of who would be available on what days should Petra need a ride somewhere, today I was home with Deandra and Zelda while Rochelle was in class and Petra and Athena were at their respective jobs. The morning began with Athena getting up for work and gently rousing me with soft kisses on my bare shoulder and I got up to make her coffee and breakfast while she went to wake Petra. As her English muffins toasted and the coffee brewed, I stood in the kitchen and smiled to myself, I felt so domestic, making breakfast for my girlfriend, a day of looking after a little one in store, I was barefoot but I’d substituted pregnant with diapered, my overnight garment hanging low beneath the bottom of my over sized shirt. I worried for a brief moment that Athena would disapprove of my attire in front of Petra, chastising me for not changing into my underwear and lounging around bottomless when she needed everyone to set a good example for Petra on grownup behavior. “God, I love that you make me coffee and breakfast in the morning.” Athena gratefully exclaimed as she clopped into the kitchen, her heels announcing her arrival well in advance to allow me to exit my mental preoccupation and present her her coffee as I kissed her cheek, flushing when she smacked my bottom playfully but sharply, “I don’t love that you didn’t at least put on some pants though.” she teased with a playful smile on her lips. I shrugged, “Once you’re gone I’ll have a shower and it’ll be like it never happened.” I told her as I went to finish the fresh out of the toaster English muffins. Petra made her way down the hall looking the most adult I’d seen her since her date with Zack, which seemed like a million years ago. She’d done her makeup and dressed in a sensible skirt and blouse, her hair in a very professional looking bun. “Good morning, Illiana.” she said politely as she took a spot beside Athena. I smiled at her, taking note of the effort she’d made to present herself as a grownup. “Good morning, Petra.” I replied before setting about getting Petra’s English muffin together for her. “Butter or jam?” I asked her. “A little butter.” Athena answered for her. “We don’t want you getting messy before work, do we, Petra?” she asked the blushing girl beside her. Petra shook her head, “No, Mommy.” she quietly agreed. I got their lunches from the fridge and handed them to each of them followed by their English muffins and accepted my goodbye kiss from Athena. “Give Illiana a goodbye hug and kiss and thank her for making your breakfast and lunch.” Athena urged Petra. Petra walked up and hugged me and I stooped a little for her to kiss my cheek, hugging her back and kissing her cheek afterward. “Thank you for making my breakfast and lunch, Illiana.” she dutifully said. “You’re welcome, sweetie, be good and work hard, okay?” I said, patting her head softly just before Athena came and took her hand to lead her to the front door. “Don’t forget to put Zelda down for her nap today, we’ll be home tonight.” Athena said while Petra opened the front door. “I love you, baby.” she added, patting my droopy bottom one more time. “Love you too, Mommy.” I chirped, beaming happily as they slipped out the front door, making my way to the front window to watch Athena open the back passenger door of her car and let Petra in before she bent down and buckled the girl in her seat and closed the door behind her to get in behind the wheel. ********* I took a quick shower once they left and dressed in some khaki shorts and a t-shirt before I headed to the kitchen to get Zelda’s morning bottle warmed up before making my way back to the nursery where Zelda was kneeling in the crib patiently waiting for her breakfast. “Good morning, Zelly!” I cooed, passing the bottle through the bars to her and watching her topple backward to lay down and drink before I lowered the crib side and climbed in to put her head in my lap and hold the bottle for her. Looking down at the man I once threw myself at and was thoroughly punished by for doing so nursing a bottle of his wife’s breast milk in a cute little lavender babydoll nightie, his absolutely precious, girly diapers completely on display, I found myself pushing the image of that man completely out of my mind. “How about instead of boring old work, you and I have a girl’s day out?” I asked her. Her eyes opened wide and excited and she nodded eagerly. I smiled down at her and nodded. “We’re going to have a great day together!” I chirped. Once her bottle was empty I got her to burp and helped her out of the crib and up to the changing table and left her naked as I went to the closet. “Would you like to try a big girl day out?” I asked, pushing the frilliest and most infantile garments out of the way. “Like, be a woman?” she asked uncertainly. I looked over my shoulder at her and nodded. “I mean, you can be a baby if you want to, but I thought maybe if we were out and saw some boys you’d have better luck with them if you were dressed a little more maturely.” I explained. Her cheeks went beet red. “I’m not gay, Illiana.” she said, breaking character and letting Zack back into her voice. I waved my hand dismissively. “Didn’t say you were, honey.” I said, “I just know that trying new things can lead to trying more new things and I thought maybe you’d be curious about whether men would find you attractive.” I explained. “Well, I’m not.” she said firmly. I left the closet and went back to her with a sympathetic smile. “Hey,” I said softly, “everything is different here now, we’re working on building a happy home for everyone, and that means being honest about our feelings and dealing with them, right?” I asked. She begrudgingly nodded. “But I’m not gay.” she repeated. I sighed. “You’re saying it like there’s something wrong with being gay or even being perceived as gay, and you and I both know you’re better than that.” I gently admonished. “Look, you’ve had orgasms from having something in your butt, right?” I asked. She flushed and sheepishly nodded, her penis stiffening. “So, there’s at least some part of you that likes that kind of attention, right?” I asked. Another nod as she chewed her bottom lip and moved to cover her rising hardness. I lightly smacked her hand away. “So, what’s the difference between having a woman stick something in your butt to make you cum and having a man do it with his dick, maybe while he holds you in his strong arms?” I asked, taking note of the twitch of her penis. “It’s different.” she said lamely. I reached under the table and got out her toy and held it up so she could see it. “Sweetie, this is a fake dick, plain and simple, all I’m asking is if you’d like to try the real thing.” I explained. “Please stop.” she said softly. I set the toy down beside her. “Petra told Athena that you and her talked about bringing a man into the house for her to fuck.” I said. “She was very excited about it because she loves cocks almost as much as she loves pussy.” I added. “Shut up!” she snarled. I stared at her in disbelief for a moment and quickly collected myself. “I know that the truth hurts to hear sometimes, but it feels good to tell the truth too.” I said. “Tell me the truth, are you afraid you’ll like being with a man?” I asked. She was silent, looking away from me. “Are you afraid that if you meet a man that makes you feel good sexually that you’ll somehow never be able to be Zack again?” I asked. She looked at me and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Are you afraid of being Zelda forever?” I asked. She sniffled and let out a choked sob. “I don’t know what I want.” she admitted. I took her hands in mine and pulled her up into a seated position and hugged her. “Sweetie, nothing has to be permanent, you can be Zelda one day and Zack the next or any combination that feels right for you.” I told her, pulling her away and wiping her tears before I kissed her forehead, “You’re loved whether you’re big or little or a boy or a girl or a baby or a Daddy, okay?” I asked. She nodded softly and sniffled again. “Everything feels like a huge decision that I have to make on the spot and I can’t do it because I have all these variables running through my head about it all.” she said softly. I nodded and stroked her hair, “Stop listening to your head and listen to your heart, sweetie.” I told her. She clung to me and slowly stopped crying, pulling away and wiping her eyes, “Can I just be baby Zelda at home with you today?” she asked. I nodded softly and gently pushed her back down onto the changing table, “Absolutely, honey.” I said. “Do you want to play with your toy before we get you into a clean diaper?” I asked. She blushed and nodded softly. I knew I was breaking Athena’s rule by not having her diaper on her first, but Zelda certainly wasn’t going to tell her what happened, so I lubed up the toy and did the same with her little hole and gently inserted it into her, smiling as she put her thumb into her mouth and closed her eyes. “Do you like to be talked to during?” I asked. She nodded softly, her cheeks growing slightly redder. “Naughty grown up talk or baby talk?” I asked. “Gwown up, pwease.” she mumbled. I smirked and gently worked the toy in and out of her, “Are you a naughty girl, Zelda?” I asked. She nodded vehemently. I chewed my bottom lip and took a deep breath, “Do you like it when Daddy fucks your cute little bottom?” I asked, gambling on using the ‘D’ word with her. Her eyes remained closed and her thumb continued working in her mouth as she nodded eagerly, her penis stiffening greatly as it curved toward her exposed tummy. “Do you want to make a sticky mess for Daddy?” I asked seductively, my voice a husky whisper of arousal that surprised even me. She whimpered and nodded again, her penis twitching and glistening with precum. “If Daddy gives you permission to cum do you promise to eat it all up like a good girl?” I asked, my plans for what to say going completely out the window as I randomly said words I thought she might like to hear. Another whimper and an eager nod as her penis twitched once more. “Cum for Daddy, baby.” I urged. She obeyed, spraying her exposed chest and tummy with her own seed, a little actually reaching her chin as she squirmed and writhed and moaned on the table until I pulled the toy from her backside and leaned in to kiss her shrinking penis. “Good girl.” I praised. Her eyes opened slowly, post coital bliss keeping them slits rather than fully open and she began to run her finger through the shimmering streaks and pools on her stomach and chest and brought the finger to her lips to lick and suck it clean, repeating the process until she’d mostly entirely cleaned herself off. I finished the job with a wet wipe before cleaning and lotioning and powdering her now dormant penis and balls and taped her pretty little diaper up snugly. “What would you like to wear today, princess?” I asked her. She sat up suddenly and wrapped her legs around my waist and hugged me tightly with her arms and kissed me deeply and passionately on the lips without any kind of warning, the suddenness and not unpleasant feeling of it leaving me dumbstruck for a moment until a long dormant part of me that held an ember of the torch I’d had for Zack kissed back. I’d willingly disobeyed Athena’s rule about playing with Zelda, mentally scoffing at the ridiculous implication that anything would happen between us, and now, only a few hours later, here I was passionately kissing her and putting up zero fight as we somehow moved together to the crib and she stopped kissing me long enough to strip my shorts and panties from me and resume kissing my Southern most lips, her tongue finding my clit and going to work satisfying me in a way I was completely unprepared for. If I’d been able to think anything more coherent than, “Oh.” or “Fuck.” or “God.” or any combination or variation of those, I would’ve been thinking “I might actually be the worst adult babysitter in the entire world.” quickly followed by “Or best, adult babies are a tricky thing to figure out.” What I knew with absolute certainty though, even as I exploded in a barely stifled by a pillow over my face moan of orgasmic bliss, was that Athena could absolutely never know about this under any circumstances. To Be Continued...

D'oh! Good catch, thank you so much, glad you're still enjoying it!