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New short story! This one is about anxiety and how helpful Little stuff can be. Also! There isn't any gendered language for the protag, so feel free to self-insert. If you like it, check us out at www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding. Your support goes a long way. ----------------------------- Baby's First Love Language By Sophie Disclaimers: diapers, mature ----------------------------- “I don’t know what’s wrong.” I stirred the sauce, staring dejectedly into the little pot. “I followed the directions. I did everything right.” “Cooking isn’t a science, hun.” “It shouldn’t be this watery. It’s supposed to thicken up.” I turned up the dial on the stove; maybe it wasn’t hot enough. “I didn’t add too much olive oil, right? You said two tablespoons.” “The internet said two tablespoons.” “I just don’t understand…” I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to Ava, her face only six inches from mine. She kissed me once on the lips and took the wooden spoon out of my hand. “Get some bowls and set the table, alright?” She said it like a question, but it didn’t feel that way. “Let me worry about the sauce.” Some people have a way with words. Ava had a way with tones. She could squish more love and curiosity and kindness and sympathy and poignancy and seriousness in one word than authors could put into entire books. With a sigh of reluctance, I left her alone with the stove and went to get bowls from the cupboard. But my mind was still on the sauce. Maybe it needed to simmer for a bit longer? Or maybe I got the instructions wrong? One of the bowls slipped out of my hands and crashed down on the countertop. A sharp echo filled the room, wall to wall. “What happened?” Ava asked. “You okay?” “Yeah, it just slipped…” I picked the ceramic bowl up off the counter and turned it over. It didn’t look cracked, but my head was still ringing. My heart hurt. I set both bowls on the table - along with a pair of forks - and tried to take a deep breath. Why couldn’t I do anything right? I looked at Ava, stirring the sauce, and caught her stealing glances. She was worried. She shouldn’t be worried. It was just pasta sauce. It was just a loud noise. I forced a smile. “Be right back.” “Where are you going?” Ava asked, leaning around the corner so she could catch sight of me as I climbed the stairs. “Bathroom.” “Okay.” I took the steps at an ordinary pace; normal stair-climbing sounds filled our small townhouse. But when I got to the landing at the top, I had to pause to catch my breath. I felt nauseas. I couldn’t breathe. With a moment to steel myself, I lumbered into the bathroom, turned on the light, and closed the door behind me. I paused in front of the mirror, with my hands on the edges of the sink. My hair was heavy and oily, though I had showered the night before. My skin was creased around my mouth and forehead, like paper that had been folded and unfolded again. I recognized myself only through constant exposure to reflections and the Switch Camera button on my phone. This didn’t feel like me. The truth was, I didn’t feel like I was there at all. This was just a body in front of a mirror, looking at itself. What control did I have over my racing heart? What could I do about the sickness in my stomach? If I tried to move my hands off the sink basin, would they move? If I put them under the hot water, would I feel it? “You’re okay,” I said to myself. I looked into my eyes and tried to exhibit the slightest bit of confidence. I had to believe me. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just dinner. It’s not the end of the world.” A deep breath. Count to four. Hold it. Count to four. Exhale. Count to four. “Ava isn’t upset. You aren’t upset. No one is mad at you.” I felt lightheaded; this wasn’t working. I had to result to base instincts. I had to keep the status quo. “Do you want Ava to be upset? No. Do you want to cause any more trouble? No. So let’s chill out. Relax and you can go back downstairs and have a great dinner and everything can be normal. Cool? Cool. Great.” I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. This one was easier. I just had to calm down. A few minutes later, I stepped away from the mirror. I flushed the toilet so Ava wouldn’t wonder. I washed my hands, even though I didn’t need to. Then I opened the door to find Ava there, waiting outside the bathroom. “You okay?” she asked, two words filled with so much love and worry and curiosity and suspense and kindness and passion and thoughtfulness that I thought I would break down crying right then and there. Luckily, I was better than that. “Uh huh. No worries.” I put on another smile. “Mmhmm. Come here.” Ava wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in for a hug. She felt like a blanket; a weighted one, with soft fabric and a heating element. She pushed on the back of my head until my cheek pressed against her shoulder. “Ava…” “It’s okay, hun,” she whispered. We were the only ones in the townhouse, but her quiet tone brought a rush of emotions. Peace. Simplicity. Love. I felt tears in my eyes. “The sauce, and…” “I took care of it, don’t worry.” Took care of it? What did that mean? She had fixed the watery sauce? Or was she scrapping it? We worked on it for half an hour, and that would be such a waste. We had to eat dinner. Did she turn the burner off? What about the noodles? Ava broke our hug and held my face in her hands. She stared into my eyes and ran her thumb across my cheek. Her smile was so calm, like nothing mattered. Nothing but me. “I said don’t worry,” she repeated, though I didn’t say anything. Then she kissed me once on the forehead and I felt a heat build up in my chest. Warm, melting heat. Ava took my hand and led me down the hall toward our bedroom. I sat on the edge of our bed and kicked my feet while Ava rummaged through the closet. I already knew what she was getting, but I didn’t think it was an appropriate moment. We had to finish cooking. We had to eat. We had TV plans and we couldn’t stay up too late. I was wasting her time. Ava came back a moment later with a diaper in one hand and baby powder in the other. A heat filled my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something, but Ava cut me off. “No worries, remember? I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of everything.” “But…” “Shh.” Ava reached into her pocket and pulled out a pacifier. She put it first in her mouth, and then in mine. Like a kiss. A silly babyish kiss. I sucked softly on the teat and kicked my feet a little more. “Much better,” Ava smiled. Her tone was full of excitement, sincerity, and attention. “That’s a good baby.” I muttered something through the pacifier, but even I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say. Ava laid me back on the bed and tapped the side of my thigh, prompting me to lift my bottom. Almost instinctively, I did. Ava stripped me of my pajama pants and underwear all in one motion. She held up the diaper in front of her and unfolded it, causing a soft crinkle to echo around the room. She tapped my thigh again and I felt my bottom lift off the mattress. When I placed it down again - a few seconds later - the soft seat of the diaper greeted my bare skin. I sucked the pacifier as the smell of baby powder filled the air. A soft dusting was sprinkled between my legs. Ava pulled the diaper up and the thickness of the padding spread my thighs apart. Then, methodically, she gently pressed the top tapes onto the front of the diaper. “Aww, sweetie you look so cute in your flower diaper! This is Mommy’s favorite design, you know? You look like a magical little fairy, relaxing in a garden. That’s what you need to do: relax more.” “Mm…” No words escaped the pacifier. I sucked softly and let my eyes flutter shut. Mommy took her time after that. She pulled up on the diaper’s waistband, making sure it fit snugly. She patted the front of the thick padding, pressing down now and again to elicit a shiver. She taped each of the lower tapes slowly, folding the plastic under so that it looked nothing short of perfect. Sometimes her diaper changes could take ten whole minutes, but they never seemed to feel long enough. Mommy took my hands and sat me up on the bed. I looked up at her with glossy eyes. My heart had stopped hurting. My head had stopped aching. Things felt quiet. She kissed me once on the forehead and went to find something else: a new shirt for me to wear. I didn’t complain or whine or argue. Sometimes it was fun to throw a fit and cause trouble, but not today. I was tired of struggling. I just wanted the serendipity of being Mommy’s little baby. With little effort, she dressed me in a comfortable onesie with little bees all over it. “Now you really do look like a garden, hm?” she teased. Tenderness. Amusement. Adoration. “The cutest little garden baby in the whole world. My beautiful flower.” I felt my cheeks get hot in embarrassment, but my lips were turned up in a smile behind the pacifier. She kissed the button of my binky and crawled into bed beside me. She had forgotten to snap up my onesie, but she wasn’t one to forget anything. I followed her toward the head of the bed. “Feeling a little better?” she asked, knowing full well I couldn’t answer with the pacifier between my lips. I elected to nod my head instead; I was feeling better. “Good. Come here, I want you to know how special you are.” Mommy sat upright with her back to the headboard. She pulled on the hem of her shirt and slipped it off over her head. Then she unfastened the clasp on the front of her bra and tossed it haphazardly to the floor. I looked at her bare chest with a hint of a blush on my cheeks. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was still thinking about the pasta and the sauce and the burner downstairs. I was still thinking about wearing a diaper in front of the girl I loved, about calling her Mommy, and if she secretly hated me. I was still thinking about the interview I had in the morning and the grocery shopping I had to do afterward. But when she told me to come over to her, I did so without thinking. I crawled up into her lap and laid my head against the crook of her arm. I looked up into her beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with delight. Then I looked at her nipple, inches from my mouth. “Go on, hun,” she whispered in that same quiet tone. Peace. Simplicity. Love. “Be a good little one for Mommy.” She plucked the pacifier from my lips and quickly replaced it with her own breast. I sucked softly on the nipple, as if it was no different than the binky it had replaced. But I could feel her heartbeat in my cheek. I could hear her breathing in my ear. I felt so close to her, like we were assimilating into one person. Maybe together, I could be more competent. If I always had a part of her with me, maybe I had nothing to worry about. Ava was always capable of anything. I could be capable too. I felt Mommy’s hand between my legs, against the soft, thick padding of the diaper. Her words continued to exude that beautiful whisper, full of peace, simplicity, and love. They bathed me in her, as I continued to nurse from her breast. “There we are… such a good little baby. Suckle and relax and let all those silly grown up thoughts float away. Like clouds in the wind. Wispy and quiet and lost to the horizon.” Mommy cupped the front of my diaper in her palm and pressed the tips of her fingers into the plastic. I shivered in her arms and started to breathe unevenly. “I love you so much. Did you know that? You’re my little one, pure and true. Sometimes you get lost, and sometimes you’re afraid to be found. But you’re still there, a light in the dark woods. I’ll always find you. I’ll always help you get home.” A shiver ran up my spine as she pressed her hand firmly between my legs. The diaper crinkled with each of her movements and the rhythm of my nursing began to quicken. “Now you’re home: in your diaper, in your onesie, and in my arms. No more fear or worry or shame. No thoughts at all. You’re just an empty headed little baby now. My baby. I make your decisions, I solve your problems. All you have to do is look cute and use your diapers.” Mommy bounced me lightly in her lap, forward in back, timing each rub of my diaper with each suck on her nipple. A heat rose through my stomach, to my cheeks, and I quivered in her arms. “Prove to me… no, prove to yourself that you’re done with all that silly adult life. You’re a helpless little baby now. You’re Mommy’s helpless little baby. Give up all your control. Choose your diapers over your thoughts.” I pushed my hips into Mommy’s hand, pressing my diaper roughly against her fingers, and sucked sharply on her breast. I wondered - for only a moment - if it had caused her any pain, but that thought drift away with all the rest. I didn’t choose thoughts; I chose diapers. I shuddered and writhed in Mommy’s lap, never taking my lips off her nipple. When the convulsions started to die down, she would press her palm between my legs in an effort to start them up again. After a few minutes of quiet post-orgasmic haze, she slipped her finger between my lips and her breast. The sucking motion stopped and I looked up at Ava with starry eyes and blushing cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered, but this whisper was different. This whisper was dripping with certainty. I wasn’t thinking about the sauce or the pasta or the burner. I wasn’t thinking about the interview in the morning or the grocery shopping afterward. I was just thinking about her, in that moment, looking down at me with the most confidence in the universe. I was thinking that I needed to say something back, something I was just as confident about. I wanted to drip with certainty, so I said the only thought I had left in my head. “I love you too.” [End.]