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Hello again, and welcome to the final episode in Mike’s inevitable slide into babyhood. This one follows on from the events outlined in At Miss Katie’s House and Later at Miss Katie’s House. I did go back and make some edits to both of those stories so that they fit with what transpired as I wrote this one. I think this story is my longest yet, which seems like a fitting tribute to Mike and everything he’s been through with the women in his life. I originally wrote this one in past tense, but then decided present fit better with the ending. Fair warning - you might still find a few discrepancies which I’ll get around to fixing later. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! As always, all characters are 18+. Mike and Katie Together I haven’t been back on the couch long, when Katie returns to the living room, looking clean and fresh-faced, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looks magnificent actually. Motherhood suits her in all the best ways. She leans over me with a soft smile. “You did so good waiting quietly for me, sweetie! What a good boy! Shall we check your diaper and then have a snack?” I’m immediately reminded of how good Katie always smells. Sort of like a warm kitchen on a sunny Saturday morning. That’s not quite right (I’m having trouble finding the correct word or phrase for some reason), but it’s a pretty close approximation of the sense of familiar comfort it brings whenever I’m close to her. She’s always so gentle and soft too… I shake my head a little. There’s no time for these little trips down memory lane. Most of them lead straight to babyland anyway. Right now, I’ve got to focus on staying with it, here, in the present, in my adult mind. And I can’t do that without Katie‘s help: “Katie wait! Hold up a second…I’m Mike…It’s me! I’m back. I mean - the real me - this Mike - the Mike from before! I’m back.” I’m not sure that makes any sense, but it’s obvious at least that my diction and tone has gotten through to her. She freezes for a moment in shock, and then pulls me into a giant hug, peppering my head with kisses, smothering me in her warmth. A torrent of questions follows: When did I awaken? How long has it been? Am I feeling OK? What else can I remember?… I do my best to answer her questions with the limited information I have on hand. Unfortunately, I learned a long time ago that toddler Mike doesn’t take great notes, which is also why I have important questions of my own. Chief among them: WHEN is now? And for how long have I been a functional toddler? It doesn’t take long before the most pressing questions are asked and answered, and we find ourselves in a pause, both appraising the other. Her eyes flit to the bulge in my crotch, and I’m suddenly reminded of the soggy diaper around my waist. “I guess I should probably get out of this gross thing before too much longer” I say, while starting for the bathroom I passed earlier. Katie’s hand shoots out and stops me: “Mike, hold on a second. Um…I know this sounds crazy, but I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You’ve been in diapers 24/7 for almost 6 months now. You’ve almost certainly lost some control. How about we leave it on for a little while - just until we have a better sense of where you’re at in terms of toileting? Could you do that for me?” I notice she’s slipped briefly back into her ‘preschool teacher’ tone, but I choose to ignore it. Old habits die hard, after all. But I can’t just go along with this either. My mental state is fragile right now. What if staying in a diaper pushes me back over the edge? “Katie I’m fine. I’m back. I’m not gonna piss myself. I promise! Please don’t make me wear it!” I’m doing my best to sound confident, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind that says I shouldn’t be so sure. My bladder feels oddly disconnected from my body. Like I’m not quite sure what’s going on with it. I guess I’m just not used to checking in with those nerves and muscles anymore. Of course I also should’ve known that Katie had heard those lines probably 1000 times before, and she was ready for them. “Well, then maybe you can show me. Do you need to go potty right now? Sorry - I mean - do you need the toilet, Mike?” “No….I don’t think so,” I reply. I’m immediately aware of my mistake. A smile tugs at Katie’s lips as she once again deploys her ‘I’m in charge’ voice: “Well if you’re not sure, then let’s wait to take it off until you are. I promise I won’t think any less of you until then. In the meantime, why don’t you sit back down and we can figure out what to do next?” She pats the couch cushion beside her invitingly, and for some reason, I comply. I guess I could’ve asked to at least change into a dry diaper, but I don’t really have a playbook for this situation (and in truth - it just didn’t occur to me). We sit sideways facing one another - her on the end, me on the middle cushion, our knees touching. I’m not quite sure where to go from here, and so I’m very happy when she takes the lead in the conversation. It’s just so nice being this close to her again. Katie starts with more questions about what I remember from the last six months. I answer as best I can. Her expression is sympathetic and caring, and I find myself going into detail about feelings and emotions that I would normally keep to myself. I guess it’s not surprising that I feel comfortable sharing intimate details with a woman who has both ridden me bareback and wiped my bottom. She deftly steers the conversation away from our brief affair (wait - when did we get on that topic?) and towards this weekend and what might have triggered this latest awakening: “I have to tell you I was pretty surprised at how much you seemed to have regressed since I last saw you. I mean, I knew things had progressed based on what I heard from Miss Rachel (she says you are adorable by the way), but when Sandra dropped you off, I almost didn’t recognize you! If I had to guess, based on your speech and behavior, I’d say you had regressed to no more than two years old. You were a toddler in every way - except size of course!” I blush at this statement - thinking of how I must’ve appeared to her in that vulnerable state. How had I let myself go that far? Her expression softens as she senses my discomfort. She reaches forward and puts her hand reassuringly on my thigh. ”Oh Mike you don’t need to feel embarrassed about that! You couldn’t help it, could you?” She looks at me expectantly, until I shake my head ‘No’. “No - you couldn’t - any more than Cassie can. Do you remember meeting her last night? Helping me get her ready for bed? Well she’s asleep now, but you can meet her properly later. She’s much younger than you, just a tiny baby but…” I cut her off. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t know how much time I might have left. I’ve already been lost in conversation with her for what…an hour? If I don’t speak my piece now, I might never get another chance. “Katie, hold up a second please. I need you to know some things. And I don’t know how much longer I have, so please just listen: I don’t like this. I never wanted this. At least not like this. I mean, I know I signed on the shorter line for the regression therapy voluntarily, but Sandra never told me she was going to take it this far. And I didn’t think it could go this far. I thought I’d just feel like a teenager again or something, and that maybe it would help my depression. Plus, it was a great reason to quit my horrible job. “If I’d have known I’d be drooling down my shirt and pissing and shitting myself in front of people like you, I’d have never signed on to it. I want it to stop. I need to be ME again! “And that’s why I need you to know how I really feel. Because you can help me even when i’m no longer able to. Talk to Sandra! Go to the center and tell them I want to stop if she won’t listen. There’s got to be some kind of clause for if I change my mind, right? They can’t just take me against my will can they? “Please, Katie - I don’t have anyone else I can trust. The truth is, I’m scared. It’s so hard feeling like I’m losing control of who I am, or of what I am, and I just want someone to help me and there’s no one except you, and I’m so confused and alone and it’s all become such a big mess that sometimes I just feel like…” It was Katie’s turn to cut me off now. She pulled me into her for a hug, holding my head to her chest and shushing me gently: “Oh Mike, sweetheart, don’t get so upset. Everything‘s gonna be OK I promise. No matter what happens, I’ll always care about you and I’ll always be here for you. You don’t need to worry about that. We can get through this together!” This wasn’t the response I was expecting or looking for. Had she listened to anything I just said? “Katie I’m not worried about not getting to SEE you! I’m telling you I’m worried that I’ll never come back to my adult self! And I’m asking you to step in if that happens. Geez! This is like life or death in that way! Can’t you see that?! Are you actually listening to anything I’m saying? “Everyone’s acting like it’s no big deal that grown-ass adults like me are turning into drooling imbeciles - and I know I effectively signed my life away voluntarily - but the fine print turns out to be a real bitch! I’m telling you I want to get OFF this crazy train, and I’m begging you to help me do it!” Katie recoils a little bit at my tone. She stares at me for a moment with an expression I don’t quite like, before composing herself for a reply. The preschool teacher tone is back now in a major way: “Mike, please use your quiet time voice. Cassie is still sleeping. I know that you are upset and scared, but it’s not appropriate for you to take your frustrations out on me. In fact, you’re behaving rather childishly about this situation, which probably isn’t a great idea in your condition, is it?” Again, she waits for me to shake my head ‘no’ before continuing. “I’ll give you a pass this time because you’re not used to processing adult emotions. And I do understand that this is scary for you, sweetheart. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your position…except, well, actually I can, because I care for children your “age” all day long. In fact, when I think about it, my experience caring for you and watching your transition makes me more sympathetic in some ways than others might be. We’ve been through a lot together. You’re not alone in this. And I’m still gonna be here for you no matter what. That’s what I meant, and I’m sorry if it didn’t come across that way. “I’d love to be able to tell you that this time might be different. Or that I can fix it. But I’m not an expert in this, and I don’t really know if that’s how it works. I’m pretty sure that Sandra has full custody of you now. I don’t think there’s much I can do in terms of making decisions for you or communicating your wishes to the Regression Center, except if I go through her. “Anyway, from what I understand, the best thing you can do is to learn to recognize triggers and to develop strategies to overcome them so that you don’t zone out whenever you encounter them. It does seem like you are clearer headed now compared to other times you’ve been back, so maybe we could work on that trigger resistance together - if you think you’re up to it? When I don’t answer right away, she starts up again, this time using the soft and gentle tone from before. “Mike, I need to ask you something. You don’t have to give me an answer, but I think it’s important to ask, so here goes: I’m not sure what you just said to me is entirely true. Specifically, I’m wondering if maybe there’s a part of you that likes to be treated like a baby? Again, it’s OK if you don’t want to answer. I’m just trying to figure out how to help you here. “It’s just that, I’ve noticed some things over the time I’ve known you. For instance ,how you act around women you are attracted to. You seem to crave the motherly or nurturing side of their attention. And that has only become more apparent to me as you have regressed. Or like just a little while ago, the way you were looking at me when I was feeding Cassie. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous. Am I getting close to the actual truth here?” I was aware I was blushing bright red again. I hadn’t expected this line of questioning. The truth was, the subby side of me did crave the sorts of gentle nurturing praise or even scolding that came with babyish behavior. and I was definitely attracted to women with strong nurturing instincts. But I had never admitted that to anyone - until now. I found myself nodding ever so slightly. “Mmhmmm. I thought so. Can you tell me more about what that means? Do you maybe like wearing diapers?” I squirmed involuntarily at this question, even as it sent a delicious electric shiver up my spine and seemingly straight into my brain. “I think I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said good-naturedly. I felt the need to speak up here - I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of diaper freak: “I don’t like them all the time - that’s part of what I meant by “not like this” in reference to my situation. But I do like the thought of you putting me in them. And changing me. I know that sounds super weird, but there’s just something so comforting about being taken care of in that way. I don’t know why I like it…I just…it’s just…” “OK.” She says, saving me from my awkward stammer. “I think I actually do know why. But I have another question for you first: do you like diapers more for how they feel, or for what they represent?” I’m contemplating the answer to this, (or rather contemplating how to bring myself to give the correct answer) when she offers to answer for me: “Do you know what I think? I think you like wearing diapers because of what they represent. They really are the ultimate symbol of babyhood aren’t they? Of freedom from even the most basic responsibility. After all, big boys don’t wear diapers do they? No. Because big boys don’t go pee pee or poo poo in their pants do they? Only babies do that - and thats why their mommies and babysitters put them in soft, fluffy diapers, isn’t it?” I nod my head in response to this last statement (maybe a little too enthusiastically), but Katie doesn’t mind. In fact, she chuckles good naturedly and brushes my cheek with her hand. “I thought so. I think you like that feeling of being cared for and loved in that way. With no judgement. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing. “And I think maybe there’s also something there about other mommies or caregivers knowing you’re in diapers and treating you accordingly. Is that right, Mike? Like maybe it’s a little bit embarrassing, but kind of in a good way? Hmmm? To be treated the same as all the other kiddos in diapers? To have decisions made for you about your needs and level of competence based purely on the site of a pastel liner peeking out from the back of your pants, or the telltale square-ish bum shape of a freshly changed diaper? It’s always been a great look on you, sweetheart! Katie accentuates this last point with a gentle laugh, which seems to echo in my head, but not in an unpleasant way. I’m blushing intensely now, even though I’m managing to maintain eye contact. I feel myself twitch a little bit inside my diaper. Katie has managed to hit the nail on the head in terms of my most secret and deeply hidden reasons for signing on to the regression program. “Mike there’s nothing wrong with feeling thiat way. I could tell when I first met you that you just wanted to be mothered. I found it kind of attractive actually. And I know the other workers at Sunny Hills feel the same way. Early education tends to attract that soft nurturing type. I guess thats’s your type huh?” “I gotta say though, I never understood why you were with Sandra in that respect. She just doesn’t seem the type. I mean, you guys haven’t had kids yet and you’ve been together what…10 years? She doesn’t seem like she’d be very nice about your potty accidents either. Like does she spank you when you wet your pants? Did she make you stand in the corner in your dirty undies?” Her hand absentmindedly brushes her breast as she says this, which sends another electric shiver up my spine. It leaves a faint ringing in my ears. Katie doesn’t wait for an answer to these last questions. Instead, she turns now to the beginning of our relationship and what attracted me to her in the first place, connecting the dots to my recently confessed desires and what transpired between us: “I dont think Sandra was ever capable of giving you what you really needed in terms of your desires to be dominated and cared for in such gentle and fundamentally intimate ways. But I picked up on it almost immediately - even if I didn’t quite know all of the gory details.” She leans forward and softly pets the front of my diaper to emphasize this point. The ringing in my ears grows louder. “I used to love sending you subtle cues, like teasing you about spilling your drink, or calling you a good boy, or even little mothering gestures like fixing your collar without asking for permission. I knew you loved it too. It was so exhilarating having that much control over an older guy! You were always so shy and flustered around me. Like a little boy caught peaking at something he shouldn’t be. “In fact, nothing really changed once you started the regression program did it? Except you were less able to hide your feelings and needs. You would always get so squirmy whenever I checked your pants! I think you liked it. And that’s OK, because we just talked about what those things represent didn’t we? “Of course, I’m also aware that eventually you didn’t really have a choice in the matter. But at first, I think you sort of helped propel yourself along through this process - creating your own triggers as it were. Deliberately engaging in babyish behaviors so that I would take notice and treat you accordingly. It was like you were still flirting with me - just in your own unique and special ways. Does that make sense?” I nod my head again. This does make so much sense! It’s like I’m having a private conversation with my ego. Katie seems to be one step ahead of my deepest desires and secrets. Things I’m not even ready to admit to myself. “Well now I have something to confess to you. My desire to nurture you, and even to gently humiliate you, didn’t go away when you started the regression treatment - even if the motives and feelings behind them changed. “In fact, I have to admit that sometimes I’d find ways to put you in situations where I could treat you like a baby, or push you into positions of greater dependency on me. There were more than a few times - in the early days especially - when you were showing very obvious signs of needing the toilet, and I just didn’t remind you or take you, because I wanted an opportunity to get to lay you down and tug your pants off again. “Sorry, I guess it’s my turn to sound weird! I know it’s very different circumstances, but something about changing you just lily me up me on an emotional level. I think it was the way your eyes would go all soft and gooey as you looked up at me from that position of complete trust and vulnerability - it melted my heart. Every woman wants to be looked at that way. That feeling is way better than anything we could ever do in the bedroom. In fact, it’s what I’ve always craved from you. I never quite got there with adult Mike.” Now it was her turn to have flushed cheeks. She brushed the side of her breast again absentmindedly. “Anyway, I don’t think we should talk anything more about that. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly surprised when I saw you silhouetted in the doorway, looking longingly at me as I nursed Cassie. “Were you maybe imagining that I was doing that for you? Hmmm? it’s OK. You can tell me.” I nod again. The ringing in my ears growing even louder. My diaper feels tighter. I’m suddenly aware that she’s been lightly caressing my upper thigh with her right hand. “That’s kind of taboo for a big boy, you know,” she says with another little laugh. But then again, you never could keep your eyes off my tits could you?” I can’t help shaking my head “no” in reply, which prompts yet another soft laugh from Katie. “It’s OK, baby, you can look. Do you like how much bigger they’ve gotten? I know I do!” She strokes her left breast more deliberately now with her free hand. Meanwhile, her right hand has found its way to the front of my diaper. I’m finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything other than the site of her nipples poking through her thin tee shirt. It feels like there are fireworks going off in my head now. “I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but my milk is off-limits for you. It’s only for little babies. And you’re definitely a big boy, right?” She gently cups my chin as she asks this, raising my head and forcing me to look away from her breasts. Her gaze feels more serious than playful now. It’s almost like she’s assessing me. And as weird and contradictory as it sounds, in that moment, I was strongly tempted to tell her that she was mistaken. That I actually was a baby. That I was qualified to take her breast. To nurse from her. To risk everything for a chance to give myself over to her in that way. Katie wasn’t letting up either. “Are you curious about what my milk tastes like sweetie? Do you wonder what it would feel like to climb into my arms in your jammies and soggy bedtime diaper and wrap your lips around my nipple?” I don’t reply, but there’s another involuntary twitch in my diaper that I’m sure she can feel, even through the soggy padding. “Mmmmhmmm. I thought so. But those don’t sound like things a big boy would wonder about, do they? “No they don’t. A big boy would be wondering whether I’m about to take his diaper off and straddle him right here on the couch. In fact, most big boys would have jumped on top of me already, given the obvious cues I’m sending. I’m literally jacking you off right now, darling, and you’re just sitting there with a dopey look on your face. If you were a big boy, you’d be about to have another big, sticky accident in your soggy pants. “But you don’t work that way, do you? You don’t want those things. Or at least not as much as you want other things. Things that I’m still willing to give you…as long as you ask in the right ways..” In all honesty I wasn’t sure what I wanted at that point, or what I was even into. It felt like forever since I’d done anything sexual with a woman. But it also felt impossible to find the line between my babyish needs and my adult desires. Katie stepped on the gas now: “I have an idea. Maybe if I show them to you, it will help you decide. “Or…we could think of this like a trigger test: If you can resist my boobies without your brain turning back into baby mush, then maybe you’ll be able to resist other triggers? What do you think, sweetie? Should I pull up my top and show you my boobies? Is it worth the risk?” I was wild with lust and desire at this notion. I nodded an enthusiastic “yes” with almost no hesitation, licking my lips in anticipation. Katie smiles at me seductively, and then slowly raises her T-shirt until both of her breasts drop out below. They are absolutely magnificent. She is a mother goddess. She reaches up and gives the left one a gentle squeeze, and a single drop of milk appears, glistening and rolling down the end of the nipple. I sit there gaping - absolutely mesmerized - for I don’t know how long. I feel paralyzed with awe and reverence. But also still very much in my adult mind. I have passed the test! I smile up at her and say, (perhaps a little too loudly), “I’m still a big boy Katie!” “I can see that” she says in a syrupy tone, while beginning to caress her breasts more deliberately. “Such a clever boy! You passed that one with flying colors didn’t you? “I think you might be ready for another, harder test! What do you think? Would you like to try, baby?” Again, I nod my head “yes” enthusiastically. OK - such a brave boy! Get ready! Here we go: Do you need to go potty yet?” Such an easy question, at least under normal circumstances, but right now I’m still unsure. There is a vague sense of discomfort from somewhere below my belly button, but I couldn’t tell you if it was just my dick still trying to make room in the confines of the diaper, or the actual need to go. I tell her a bit sheepishly that I still don’t know, which prompts another gentle laugh. “Awwww sweetie, that’s OK. That doesn’t mean you failed the test. After all, you’ve been spending a lot of time lately not worrying about the answer to that question. And now that you’re in Miss Rachel‘s classroom, it’s probably even more difficult. None of your peers are setting a good example for you to follow in the potty department anymore are they, baby? “Anyways - the good news for you (my good little boy), is that I know a way you can find out and still pass! Do you want to try it with me? “Good! It’s sooo simple even a baby can do it! All you have to do is give a little push! Can you do that for me? Do you remember what that feels like?” I realize that l’ve already begun pushing before she’s finished her last question. My face is now red for different reasons, but still, nothing happens. Not even a trickle. An overwhelming sense of disappointment washes over me. Have I failed? “Silly goose’” exclaims Katie, “you’ve got to get in the right position first before you start pushing, otherwise it’s not gonna work! Go ahead and stand up for me, sweetie. There’s a good boy. Now, I’ll hold onto your hands and you can try again. Go on! Push for me, baby!” Without thinking more about it, I let her take my hands. Katie smiles at me encouragingly as I push harder and deeper than before, bending my legs just a little bit this time. She’s right - this is a much better position for this kind of activity! I feel a rippling sensation from my abdomen, followed by a pleasant shiver up my spine, and then I’m full on pooping in my pants. There’s no trying to hold it back. This isn’t an ‘accident.’ I’m just having my usual morning bowel movement while standing next to the couch in Katie’s living room. I push again, this time for longer, and I’m rewarded with a delightful warm fullness around my bottom. Another pleasant shiver snakes up my spine, prompting a little wiggle from my behind and a generous gush of urine from my front. And then, just like that, the deed is done. The whole episode lasted maybe 10 seconds, although it seemed much longer. I’m left feeling dazed and more than a little unsure about the outcome or its meaning. Is this a pass or a fail? I take a moment to check in with myself. Yes - I’m still here. Still me. But is pooping my pants really proof of anything positive in that respect? The idea seemed to make perfect sense just a minute ago - but now I’m not so sure. I realize that Katie has kept hold of my hands this whole time. Her breasts are also still hanging free under her bunched up shirt, which threatens to distract me from my self-assessment. Without asking permission, she spins me around and pulls back the waistband of my diaper to peek inside: “Oh, sweetie,” she whispers in my ear, “You made a big poopy in your diaper! I think we found the answer to the question about whether or not you had to go potty, didn’t we?” She reaches down and gives my bottom a firm squish for emphasis, her bare breasts pressing into my back. “How do you feel sweetheart? Can you still recite your ABCs?” she asks playfully. “I guess it’s a good thing I made you keep that diaper on, huh? Miss Katie is so clever sometimes!” This last question wasn’t quite fair, but I chose to let it go. Her nonchalant attitude is putting me more at ease about the whole situation. And on balance, it does seem like a good thing that messing my pants hasn’t triggered the expected zone out to babyland. I turn back around to face her, acutely aware of the mess shifting with my movements. “Well…I guess this means…I…passed? Maybe this means I’m trigger proof?” I’m doing my best to mirror her ‘pooping in your pants in front of me is no big deal’ vibe. Katie studies me briefly before replying. At first her expression is a confusing mixture of amusement and appraisal - it’s a little bit disconcerting given the delicate position she’s just helped put me in. Aren’t we on the same team here? We’re still working together, right? I’m relieved to see her face soften a little as she begins to lay out our next move. “Not quite, sweetie, I think we should do one more test just to be sure. Why don’t you sit back down and we can talk about what it might be?” I lower myself gingerly onto the seat next to her, which prompts another good-natured chuckle from Katie. The syrupy tone is back. “Come closer, sweetheart. You’re doing so good! Let me cuddle you for a second. Your poopy bottom doesn’t bother me, I promise! “Now, where were we? Oh that’s right! A final trigger test. Do you know what it is? I think you might. We were just talking about about it a few minutes ago…” Her arm is around my shoulder, and there’s a gentle but insistent pressure pulling me towards her chest. I can see that both nipples are dripping now. What’s the term for that again? ‘Let down?’ “That’s right. I think you already know the answer, my sweet little boy. I want you to try nursing from my boobies. If you can resist going back to baby land while doing that, then you’re almost definitely trigger proof!” She reaches up and slowly pulls her top completely off, now offering me a completely unobstructed view of her breasts. Her bare shoulders accentuate the soft curves of her womanhood. Another electric shock courses from my perineum to the top of my scalp. The ringing in my ears has grown deafening. Given what I’ve just been though, this seems like both a wonderful and a terrible idea. Hadn’t she just told me that only a baby was allowed to do this? That only a baby would want this? And yet the urge to comply was so irresistible. I was literally drooling down my top looking at her breasts. “Come on, pumpkin,” she coos in her most syrupy and seductive voice. “Come have some lovely warm booby milk, and then I’ll change your stinky pants. And it can be an extra special diaper change if you’re still a big boy when we finish. Won’t that be nice?” I am powerless to resist. Without further hesitation, I turn and lay myself across her lap, my head facing her chest, my mouth already straining greedily upwards. She gently guides her nipple into my mouth with one hand and then cradles the back of my head, holding me to her, pressing me into her, suffocating me in her warmth and femininity. She moans as I performed a tentative first suck. Encouraged by her response, I give a longer, deeper suck, and this time hot milk shoots all over my tongue. It’s heaven. My eyes roll back. Fireworks go off in my head. I’m barely able to follow along as Katie whispers softly to me: “Such a good baby. Hims doesn’t want to be a big boy, does he? No. Hims wants to be a little baby drinking from my boobies in a dirty diaper. I’ve known that all along, darling. This is what’s best for you. This is what everyone wants for you now. She smiles down at me. I smile dopily back around the nipple, milk spilling from the corner of my mouth. I feel my bladder letting go, my diaper warming against her hip as I continue to suck. I giggle and close my eyes, watching the fireworks behind them. There was something I needed to do - something I needed to try to maintain, but it doesn’t seem important right now. I’m feeling so comfy and safe and warm. Completely blissed out. Katie has started humming the same, simple melody I heard her performing earlier. The song has no words, but it’s still so profoundly meaningful in terms of what it tells me about warmth, and care, and safety, and love. I sigh deeply around her nipple. “Pancakes!,” I think. “She smells like pancakes!” And then I am gone.

Happy new year readers! Welcome to the latest (and I think the penultimate) chapter in the Mike and Sandra and Katie saga. This one occurs both in the past and a ways into the future from the previous episode. We still don't really know what's going on behind the closed doors of the mysterious Regression Center. As always, all characters are 18+ I'm back. But I don’t have any idea where I am or how I got here. I’m sitting on the floor in a living room near a pile of toys and children’s books that aren’t mine. A few more are scattered here and there across the carpet. It’s nice carpet, but not a color I could live with. The furniture and décor are also unfamiliar and not to my own or Sandra’s taste. A little too spartan really. First home maybe? There are no pictures on the wall or any other clues as to the owner that I can see from my current vantage point. The presence of what I do recognize as my backpack in the corner behind me suggests that I’m meant to be here and therefore likely safe. I’m not really responsible for my backpack, even though it’s “mine”, and even though it goes with me everywhere I go outside the home. Some well meaning adult put it there or sent me here with it. My initial sensation of panic begins to ebb a bit. The mystery location is actually less of a concern in the grand scheme of things than the missing time. I don’t even know what month it is, much less day or date. How long have I been zoned out for? I’m wearing a plain tee shirt that doesn’t quite cover my belly and duck-print flannel pajama bottoms with a cuff at the ankle. Did they even make these for adults or did Sandra have to order them specially? There are no other clues from my attire. Holiday neutral and seasonally appropriate for bedtime at any time of year. The slightly soggy disposable diaper underneath my pajama pants suggests that at least enough time has passed to allow for significant progression in my regression (what a strange concept that is)! The last I can remember clearly, I was still in training pants. Something akin to a diaper, but not quite. And yet, I can vaguely recall wearing daytime diapers at times too. And being changed at daycare. Or was it playgroup? It’s all so jumbled! I shake my head trying to clear the cobwebs and reflect for a moment on the irony inherent in the concept of progression in regression. But then I have to remind myself that getting lost in thoughts like these is a very risky undertaking. They can trigger more zone outs. The zone outs started subtly. Waking dreams that I slipped into without noticing I’d checked out. Like falling asleep in front of the TV when you are still sort of aware of the show as it plays on, but when you wake up, you have no idea what has happened or how much of it you missed. My first significant zone out actually occurred in front of the TV about three weeks after I started my sessions at the Regression Center. It was like any other lazy Sunday night. I was cuddled up with Sandra on the couch watching some awful family comedy movie she had picked out. I needed to pee, but I was patiently waiting for the next commercial break. All of a sudden, I was jolted back to reality by a shout of surprise from Sandra. A disposable training pants commercial was playing on the TV screen. And my pants were soaked. Sandra had been very nice about it. In fact, after her initial expression of surprise, she had been nonchalant about the whole thing, even though I couldn’t explain to her how or why it happened. As if it were totally normal for a diaper commercial to prompt a full-blown wetting accident in an adult. As if everyone just lost time like that. I was cleaning up in the shower and feeling very sorry for myself when I heard the bathroom door open. Sandra had slipped into the shower behind me without asking for permission to join. She pulled me into her, her bare breasts pressing firmly against my back. We stood like that in silence for a minute or so, and then she began soaping my back with a soft, baby blue washcloth. I’d never seen her use a washcloth before, but this felt really good. The tension in my shoulders eased a little. She moved closer again, the cloth now working lower on my bottom. As it slipped between my cheeks, she leaned forward and whispered in my ear: “Awwwww is my boy upset because he did a wee wee in his panties?” I let out a small gasp in reply - prompted more by the invasiveness of her work with the washcloth than the sensitivity of the subject. Sandra nodded in sympathy and moved the cloth to the front. The fingers of her left hand now caressed the tip of my penis as she gently worked over my crotch and balls with the right. She whispered again: “It’s OK, Sweetie. Accidents are no big deal. It was bound to happen sometime wasn’t it?” When I didn’t respond immediately, she paused her movements. Her touch felt amazing, and despite my shame, a growing part of me very much wanted this treatment to continue. My voice quivered a little as I replied: “I guess so, but not like this!…I mean I didn’t even know it was happening, and then I was wet, and you shouted, and I felt like I didn’t know where I was or who I was. And I know I said I wanted to go to the regression center, but really I just wanted an excuse to quit my job. I didn’t think it would be like…like…this. I didn’t even think it would WORK, and now look I’ve ruined the couch, and I just want to stop going and stay home with you instead…” Sandra interrupted my rambled confession with a gentle “Shhhhhhh!” in my ear. She was stroking me again now with the washcloth. “Sweetie, it’s too late to stop treatment now. Or at least, you can’t quit all at once - you know that could cause a serious psychotic break that could leave you permanently baby-brained. You don’t want that do you?” I shook my head “no” even as a soft moan escaped my lips. Sandra’s work with the washcloth was exquisite. I was thrusting a little bit into her hand now, and feeling her match my movements with her own, her smooth pubic area keeping firm pressure against my bottom. “No - you don’t. Let’s just stick with it until Easter and then we can decide what’s best for you. Does that sound good, my sweet boy?” I nodded and moaned again, thrusting harder now. “Besides, I have to tell you that you looked absolutely adorable sitting on the couch, looking up at me with confused puppy dog eyes, and a wet patch on your pants. In fact, if you had put your thumb in your mouth at that moment, I probably would have just ripped your wet pants off and fucked you on the spot.” That did it. “Oooooh fuuuuuck!”, I groaned, as I came hard into the washcloth, my knees buckling and almost giving way. Sandra caught me and held me, slumped and panting in front of her. “Oh my - two accidents in one night!”, she teased, and then she continued to rock me back and forth under the warm water. Of course not every zone out was as climactic as that first one, but in those early days especially, it did seem like Sandra went out of her way to “reward” me every time I did something particularly babyish while I was out. Getting a blowjob in dirty training pants in the family bathroom at the mall was one of most unexpectedly erotic things that had ever happened to me. There were some triggers I later came to recognize (and to be wary of) in my more lucid moments: baby talk, commercials or other media featuring babies or toddlers, praise for accomplishing simple tasks, and certain smells associated with childhood comforts and care. I’m sure the regression center planted others as well, although it was likely overkill as I was exposed to all of the things I just listed on a near constant basis by Sandra and the limited range of other adults I now interacted with regularly. It was next to impossible to avoid zone outs under these circumstances, even when I was aware of the triggers. A momentary slip into a daydream, a warm rush of dopamine, and I might not reawaken for hours, or days. Or, as it now seemed, weeks or even months. It’s possible that one day I’ll just slip away into a permanent zone out - my adult brain permanently cooked, never to return. Or that the generally dopey feeling that seems to stick with me these days even when I am back will increase to the point that I truly need Sandra’s constant care and attention. But I don’t think that’s her intention, or how this stuff really works. Sandra likes me being aware of what’s happening. She wants me to retain the memories of lost battles in intimate, gory detail. There’s no fun in this change in status unless I’m aware of it. A permanently zoned out zombie baby is not her desired end state. So for now, here I am. Wherever and whenever this is. This is the most lucid and just generally with it I've felt in a long time. And it's only in times like these, that I can see just how close I am getting to rock bottom, and just how much I wish I could stop the unending cycle of soggy and squishy bottoms that come with it. The last time I snapped back to something like my adult self was somewhere around Thanksgiving I think, and I was definitely much fuzzier then. Still, I can remember pieces of time from before that: trick or treating and playing at the park for instance, and various other scenes of a familiarly babyish nature that seem to span months and seasons. Has it really been that long? Unfortunately, I had chosen to waste my previous limited time in adult space by picking a silly fight with Sandra over the color of the shirt I was wearing (like I said, I wasn't thinking perfectly straight). I can't remember anything after that, so I must have been zoned out between then and now. I sit for another moment collecting my thoughts. The house is still quiet. I still have no idea where I am or who I am with. It occurs to me that I might be alone - which is disconcerting given the state of mind I was in just a few minutes ago. I’m not used to not having an adult at least within easy earshot. Dwelling on that thought threatens to provoke panic. And I know that panic, like any strong emotion, can lead to zone outs. I manage to stifle an urge to cry, and instead climb unsteadily to my feet. Big boy Mike has the tools to solve this mystery. I can see that the kitchen is empty, so I turn and walk towards a hallway. The crinkling from my bottom seems extra loud in the silence. I’m tempted to call out, but for some reason that seems a little scary in this quiet house. Who or what might reply? I resist an urge to put my thumb in my mouth. Keep it together, Mike! At the end of the hallway is an open doorway with muted light coming through. Now I can hear a gentle humming that sends little electric shivers up my spine. I notice a faint smell of baby powder or lotion in the air. The open door obviously leads to a baby’s room. I move closer, even though the rational side of my brain is ringing zone out trigger alarm bells. I can resist. I have to. The shades are drawn, but enough sunlight is leaking through to see. In the corner facing me, a young woman sits silhouetted in a rocking chair, nursing a small baby and humming a lullaby. The sight floods me with a mixture of longing and melancholy. This is the intimate side of babyhood that I don’t get to experience. It’s not for me. I don’t qualify. Eventually, the woman looks up and notices me standing in the doorway. I still can’t make out her facial features, but as soon as she speaks, I know it is Katie. Another, stronger electric shiver courses through me as she says in a firm, yet gentle voice” ”Mike, sweetie, I’m just putting Cassie down for her nap and then I’ll come sort you out, OK? “Please go and wait for me on the couch like a good boy.” To be continued...

Hi, I've been requesting for a story for a while, and while I've objectively found some things that I like, most of the times I've found myself thinking "I would have done otherwise". So I decided to start writing one on my own. BUT! I wanna give you a fair warning before I start getting into the story 'cause I feel like you all deserve it, since I don't want to waste anyone's precious time. 1 - This is my first time writing a full story, so it is highly possible that it will be convoluted and lead to nothing. 2 - English is not my first language, so it's probably not gonna be an excellent piece of art, especially if you are someone who enjoys literature. 3 - The most important point. If you expect this get to the "kinky stuff" immediately, don't get into it. I like to take things slow and have that sweet characters development. 4 - Yes, I started this story elsewhere and I think here too but I will restart it and continue it now CHAPTER 01 "And why on Earth would I need an assistant again?" John Jefferson, 28, was 3 when he was diagnosed with a very rare disease that affects both muscles and bones, making them fragile; while it wasn't lethal on its own, it made it impossible for him to put any muscular mass by weight lifting, and also forced him to be cautious with his eating habits, since his legs might fail his structure him if he would have become overweight. On top of that, he was also on the shorter side, so being a 4'7very skinny man, he surely wasn't the bossiest looking dude in the office. Although his problems, he's always tried to get what was best for him and tried to give himself some authority. He grew a nicely shaped beard, he became witty and, contrary to most people in his position, he would always go to work wearing a suit and a tie. "First and foremost, it is a cost efficient solution. Our new employee is a promising intern that will work here for free for the next six months. If she, as I expect, will turn to be good enough, we will hire her with a full-time job, so I need someone qualified to teach her. " Ever since Mrs. Thompson retired, Janna Prickles, a 51 years old unmarried men hater became his new boss and things only started running slower for his career; it was bright as the day that Janna had a particular taste in torturing him. And the hate was mutual. Short and plumpy, she always used to wear overly coloured outfits that made her look like a knock off version of Queen Elizabeth. Fitting for her personality, John thought. John rolled his eyes and sighed "In other words, I have to babysit." but Janna blocked him with an evil grin. "I took care personally and decided for her amongst tons of other students who signed for this position. She's a quick learner, don't worry. Also, there's a second reason why I needed for you to have an assistant: even though you're better at your job than I like to admit, you're still an annoying little prick who needs to learn how to be organized, so she will take charges of your time schedules from now on." Truthfully, his office looked like a mess, and his schedules were all over the place, he couldn't argue with it. But there was more. "Oh I see now. It's about the Gravéneux fiasco! Look I told you already it was not my fault if Stuart went through my stuff and mixed 'em up lik-" "I know and that is why he had been fired. But let's be honest for a second here. Just coincidentally it wasn't your fault this time. It was surely not the first time your pig habits got in your way. I know this is more about pride than anything else, but you DO need help in that front. And you can be helpful yourself." That didn't sound very convincing at all to John, and she knew it; so, sighing and looking down, she continued her speech. "Fine, I knew it would have come to this. I've already hired her, as a matter of facts, she's already waiting in your office, as of now. Since I know that you need something to be motivated, here's your goal: in the next six months I want to have someone who is just as good as you doing your job, and you are the only one who can teach her. Make me proud, and you'll get a 6% raise." Finally she was talking business, he thought. John was a very proud and goal oriented person, and this seemed like a good deal, which he closed by shaking hands with his boss. He walked to his office and opened the door. His new assistant was standing there, right in front of him. <HOLY SHIT> was all he could think of, but he limited himself to think it, and open his eyes wide.

As a disclaimer, this is a CONTEST ENTRY for Kasarberang's Contest. Though, call me a cheater, but I’m double dipping with this as an entry for two contests, though the other one is just cuz it still works I think. Please enjoy! The world was changing, and yet only half the population cared to pay any heed or mind to it. Half, approximately, assuming there was an even split between men and women. I sat pensively on the train, trying to feel at least a little hypnotized by the slight jostles, rocks or bumps the cars may feel from the old and used railroads sprawling throughout the subway system. But I hardly felt at ease today, and even more sick to my stomach than usual. I’d been dealing with the onset of disaster for so long now that I was probably a matter of days from it no longer being just the signs of what I feared. Any day now could be the arrival. “Hey…? I’m talking to you, you know?” A soft voice nudged. I kept my head looking down at the floor from my seat, but I couldn’t ignore the couple flirting right nearby. Likely another product of the same system that was affecting all of us. The same movement. “I’m…I’m listening,” I could hear her sheepish lover reply. Were they lovers anymore? Likely just the loved and once loved by this point. “I was asking you what you wanted for dinner tonight, silly. Were you distracted? Or…oh! Did you…?” “No!” He raised his voice that’d certainly warrant stares, but I sure didn’t. It was my best guess that no one did either. I needed none of the context nor the visual to know that it was all some unfortunate byproduct of a malignant force affecting all of us; all-consuming. “It’s…it’s nothing… I don’t care what we eat.” “Don’t be like that…!” she whined back in a tender voice. She spoke like it was only them inside this packed train car. “I can make your favorite?” It’s not that I wanted to hear their conversation, but everyday made it harder to tune out conversations like these if it meant having to go deaf entirely. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, wondering what the future might look like for myself. The goosebumps were infecting my skin and I could feel them creep from underneath my suit jacket and button-up shirt. I wouldn’t get to hear the end of their chat though, once the train came to a groaning, screechy halt and a synthetic female voice announced over the intercom that it was my stop. “Mikey? Come on, this is us,” a woman announced to her boyfriend. Spouse, maybe? It hardly seemed to make a difference, nor was there any seeming distinction in treatment anymore. All that remained was lingering attachment for what once was and will no longer be. I watched multiple couples with all the same kind of lead take themselves off the train with me following in tow. My heart was beating a mile a minute, hardly able to keep my eyes straight. It was all superstition that was eating away at me, but unfortunately the well-placed kind. Something inevitable that I had no power over. Something that– “Oh!” A woman gasped in front of me. In my internalized moment of panic, I wasn’t watching where I was going and walked straight into the back of someone. I went back on my butt, but she didn’t. As she turned around a sick feeling welled up in my stomach. Shit! The one thing I had to do; go unnoticed and not make waves. In trying so hard to disconnect myself from reality I’d become blind enough to collide right with it. “Honey, are you alright?” She didn’t reach out her hand, and I knew her as only the stranger of many that apparently used the subway. Yet I assure you that in spite of all the madness this world was seeing, disregarding social etiquette was not normal. Or maybe it was now, and the new normal was just to embrace the madness. She didn’t reach out her hand, but she reached out both hands. Her arms, too. She was partly bending over, taking advantage of the little meek me who was still five steps behind trying to think of a response that wouldn’t land me in hot water. By the time I was ready to say something, this woman was assertively lifting me by the armpits and back on my feet. Her brow was furrowed as she fussed all over me, going as far as to dust off my backside. One might call it sexual harrassment, but that was of a different time. Maybe a few years ago it would have held some weight, but now everything’d become as light as a feather. “Sweetheart?” she asked me again, and I blinked in worry, realizing that I was too engrossed in a conversation with myself that I hadn’t verbalized since my mandatory goodbye to my boss at the office. “Y-Yes,” I replied quietly, underneath the bustling crowds and cacophony of train noises, scheduling departures, and other couples. “I’m…fine…” I wasn’t fine. Far from it. Physically? Maybe. The springtime of my youth, as I liked to think. Assuming that’s what early 20s could be called. Mentally, though? Life was certainly taking its fun in fileting away at that. I looked up at her, nearly wincing when I saw her tilt her head with a curious smile. I wanted to blush, feel bubbly over what felt like genuine affection; flirt back, even. But I didn’t because I didn’t believe that any of it was what I wanted it to be. Well, that and because I was a faithful man. And then the line of questioning began. “Are you here by yourself? Actually–” she peered over her shoulder, seeing much better above the crowd than I could. “It’s a bit stuffy here, isn’t it?” She chuckled while she slipped a loose hair behind her ear. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more quiet?” I looked out at her extended hand. “I…I should go…” I did my best to diffuse myself from the situation, but all that did was put a concerned look on the woman’s face. “It’s okay, honey,” she suddenly met me more than halfway, going the full distance to grab my hand by my side. “I just wanna talk.” Her grip was solid. Soft, yet firm. From all the feats I’d seen as an onlooker and all the women I had witnessed lift and move with might, my will to physically resist had been quashed quite early on. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I wanted to be the one to disarm myself from her. I wanted to have the courage, intellect, and charisma to talk myself out of this. To convince someone part of the hivemind for the first time that I was independent and could be let go. Give back to myself at least a shred of agency. But the moment I could see the crowd thinning out, enough to see a few feet on either side of us, I could see the door, sign, and destination we were headed. So in a panicked, shameful moment, I raised my voice and shouted, wiggling my arm in her hand. I wiggled not to try and break free, but to make my sleeve droop and slip down my arm. “W-wait!” I begged to her back, “L-Look! See?” The woman barely even glanced, like by this point it didn’t really matter what I said, and unfortunately I knew how true that was. But I still played my last card. My only card. The one weapon I had that wasn’t even mine. Someone else’s that had been forced on me. Her half-glance over the shoulder was enough, because I could tell she was having a double-take once she saw my wrist. We stopped and she turned around. “You already have a…?” Whether it was really hers or manufactured, the disappointment in her voice was thick and heavy, like she was just denied from an Ivy League school. I didn’t even try to fight back when she tried to wedge her nail between my bracelet and wrist as a last ditch attempt. I didn’t stop her because I was dreadfully aware of its strength. I was able to tug my hand free, solely because she had lost the will and simply allowed me to. “I…” And yet my embarrassment and shame were at an all-time high, having to rely on what I feared and hated the most. “I should go…” Nothing else needed to be said. She was the enemy, but she wasn’t a foolish one. She knew what it meant, and so did I. “Be safe…” she said in a sad voice, standing where she stood, seeing me off. Hurriedly I tugged back down my sleeve as I scrambled up the steps. I tried to stay inconspicuous for the few more minutes I had to go home. It wasn’t terribly often when moments like that happened, but the frequency was undeniably going up. Once or twice a month at first, but now once or twice a week for sure. The outcome never changed, but it made me sick having to solve it the same way every time. I opted for the road typically less traveled, meaning the strongest likelihood of not seeing anyone by taking the stairs over the elevator. Traveling eight tiers of floors I walked down the hall, feeling the pace of my heart rate coast from the adrenaline of exercise to anxiousness. Was today finally the day? Was it when my final oasis dried up and a new reality set in? Nervously, I slipped my key in the door, turning the lock, stepping inside. “I…I’m home!” I called out to the apartment. And my heart melted the moment I heard her voice. “Hey…!” Kailey called back, and I instantly felt at ease. The same voice and tone she always had the past two years we had been together. The same loving, feisty voice she had in public and in bed. My sweet, beautiful, sexy girlfriend whom I never wished to part with. After kicking off my shoes, I followed the light and poked my head into the kitchen, spotting her. I caught her mid-slurp of a large wooden spoon, standing by a boiling pot of something. I could smell it already. Pasta with tomato sauce. My absolute favorite. I couldn’t help but smile the moment she gave me hers. “Hey!” she greeted me again and it made my heart overjoyed. Without a word I came in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Ah-ah! Wait! Wait!” Kailey begged me with a giggle, disarming me with ease as she gently put some distance between us. “Look at me!” She swept her hands down at herself, showing off the stained apron. “Geez,” she frowned disapprovingly, “look at you!” My once-white shirt now had a stain of red on it. But I hardly cared. Not after what I just went through at the subway. I needed something to feel right again, and that’s exactly what Kailey was, and now this tomato sauce too. “I can wash it later,” I said dismissively, coming in for a kiss, and she did respond lovingly. And as I was recharging, the look on Kailey’s face changed. It was concern, and that made me uneasy. The one thing Kailey could do to make me upset was indicate that she was privy to the outside world. She wasn’t a stay-at-home girlfriend that only dealt with me. She worked and was a contributing member of society. A part of that society. “It happened again, didn’t it?” My shoulders drooped just the slightest bit. I always hated wearing my emotions on my sleeve. Once upon a time it was fun being an open book to your lover, but not anymore. Not in this kind of world. “It’s nothing; I’m just glad to see you?” But she knew. She always knew. “Did you show her your bracelet? Like we practiced?” Kailey asked with a hand on her hip. I tried not to frown. I hated when she was like this. She was the one thing that was the antithesis to the world outside these four walls. My one reason for thinking that things could still be normal for me. For us. In ways we’ve already had to adapt, but for the most part we were still just us. Boyfriend and girlfriend. “Y-yes,” I mumbled, trying to get past this. “It’s done and over with now, okay? How was your day at work, was it good?” Maybe my emotions were a bit easy to read, but I could at least tell some of the looks on my girlfriend as well. It was her signature, ‘I still want to keep talking about this’ face. But we didn’t. “It was good…” she started slowly before turning back to stir the pot. Good, we were successfully changing the subject. “Actually, I got out even earlier than usual today, so I got to do some errands. Oh! And remember my coworker? Martha? I was chatting with her today and she mentioned the park a few blocks over? She said there’s gonna be some kind of show and I thought we might be interested?” “Yeah? Music?” Rock was always a nice reprieve. “Should be some fun tunes,” she nodded. “I was thinking that I could make us some sandwiches and we’d go?” I was a much bigger fan of indoor at-home activities, but Kailey always knew how to give me strength. “Sure,” I smiled. “Sounds good.” “Great! And how was work for you?” Her interest subsided for a second-hand frown. “Those girls better have stopped harassing you…” “It was fine…” I glossed over with a sigh. “And don’t worry about them; it’s fine…” It was easy for me to say that now that Kailey was in the same room as me. My beacon, my pillar. She was overprotective of me and I liked to see that as her way of shielding us from how much society had changed in such little time. How topsy-turvy everything had become. She set the spoon down just to turn and look at me. “I worry about you, you know?” “Thank you, I appreciate it. I worry about you too.” “I know you do,” she smiled with her pearly whites. Then her eyes started to wander away from mine, starting to sound a bit less certain. “I…could always start picking you up, you know…?” “Kailey, n-no. That’s fine. Really… We’ve…we’ve already talked about this.” “I know we’ve talked about it,” she sunk her hands into the front pocket of her apron, “but I really want you to think about it? Oliver, don’t you want strangers to stop walking up to you on the street?” “But that’s why we agreed to this stupid bracelet, didn’t we?” In a small burst of frustration I flashed the emasculating jewelry on my wrist. “So I could still keep things the way that they should be?” Kailey frowned. “Yes, to keep you safe. Oliver, you know those bracelets are only good until the end of the year.” The end of the year. So many months away, and yet the time until then was burning away like we were hurtling towards the sun. Her face softened as she tried me with another plea of reason, “Look, my workplace is already letting me out early? Because they think that I’m already using this time to come and get you?” “Yeah,” I hurriedly tried to deflect and dodge, “but I’m sure you like having the time to come home and relax sooner?” “Not as much as I’d like making sure you get home safe,” she said without any sort of smile. Kailey always cut the jokes when she was serious. “Oliver, please? Would it convince you if I said I just want to see your face more? Because I do?” And like that one of my big buttons had been pressed. A sweeping strike had stripped off my armor completely. “Unless you don’t wanna see me?” she put on a dejected, hurt sort of look. She was acting and it was obvious, but my heart was as gullible as I was afraid of losing what we had. What made it so hard to stay resolute against Kailey was the worry of her retaliating in some way. The worst outcome was breaking up, and I could never let that happen. Not only because of how much I loved her, but because I knew that a relationship like this would never be attainable. Not now. Not in this kind of world. “I…” I caught myself halfway. With a quiet sigh I finally gave in to yet another compromise. “Fine.” And as a small reward, her face lit up like the sun. “Really? Oh…! Thank you so-so much!” Kailey assaulted me with pecks all over on the cheeks, sauce-stained apron included. And at least with Kailey, giving in meant easier post-mortem negotiations. “But! Can…can we not start until next week?” I rubbed my face with a blush. It made me feel silly for thinking this, but still I said, “I…I just want to feel the same for the rest of the week…” Without hesitation Kailey said, “Of course!” That made me smile. Things were normal again. For at least a little longer. “I’ll make sure to call your boss tomorrow to let her know…” Kailey mumbled to herself back by the stove. I chose not to comment. “Uhm…I’m gonna take a shower,” I started to excuse myself. “I’m guessing dinner’ll be ready by then?” “Yes it will be!” Kailey said so chipperly. “By the way, I was doing some laundry and your underwear is still in the dryer, so could you just wear the ones you have on now?” “Sure thing!” I called halfway down the hall. The best part about someone you love and spend so much time with is getting to pick up on their mannerisms and habits. Kailey, of course, was no different. “And then?” she excitedly pointed with her fork, either moving with her hands or the things in them, “Then she wanted me to re-run the samples just because Stacy wasn’t wearing gloves in the next room over! Can you believe that?” “Wow,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food. “That does sound kinda excessive…” “Right?” She shrugged. “Like, don’t get me wrong, I think these accelerated trainings we’ve been getting are great. It lets us do some really interesting work and think a lot more critically. It’s just that it’s also starting to make everyone super specific about how work gets done. It’s so ridiculous how quantum causations are really just causing our work to be more anal…” I nodded like I understood, but in reality I couldn’t even get my foot in the door when it came to imagining the kind of work Kailey did. It wasn’t always like this. Originally, she was a lab technician handling maintenance on tools. I knew that much. But after enough “accelerated trainings” and suddenly she was being promoted and moved up the ladder to more and more demanding things. Hell, Kailey didn’t even have a masters and she was doing such high-level work. Work that I barely understood anymore. But nevertheless, I tried to stay engaged. “And you…uhm…what about that thing you were talking about the other day? The…Complex…Combine–?” “Oh, the Conflux Collider Theory?” Kailey seemed to know immediately what I meant, quite casually picking up the pieces on my lack of comprehensiveness. She never discussed the details with me because the last time she did I was left feeling confused and incompetent, unfortunately. She nodded the thought into her brain. “It’s good, actually. We’re already starting to design some stuff to test out some theories?” “That’s cool.” And my commentary on her work was about as rich and substantive as there was culinary grace and technique to a microwaved grilled cheese. “How about you?” Kailey smiled. She always knew how to make my stuff sound interesting, even when both of us knew that it wasn’t. “I know you said nothing special, buuut…?” “Uhm…” I scratched my head. I never liked being before or after Kailey’s work stories. There was no other way of describing it than as inferiority. I could hardly set the bar, nor could I follow up. My work wasn’t just different from Kailey’s, it was less than. Not so long ago we dealt with similar levels of difficulty. Kailey managed lab equipment and I was designing and maintaining financial infrastructure. But now? All my work lived inside a spreadsheet software. I barely even had side-to-side banter with coworkers. Almost everyone I interacted with nowadays was just superiors. There wasn’t room for joking and chit-chat with the people too busy dissecting my menial work for mistakes. Helen was responsible for all my previous projects now. As HR described it, I was “needed elsewhere.” My unofficial demotion was explained as an “allocation of resources.” My favorite part though, was being told, “think of it as stepping to the side.” Sure, of course it wasn’t stepping down. “I…so, okay,” I did think of one thing, immediately starting to try and flare it up. My work was more mind-numbing than anything else. Engaging would have been a vast oversell. Life as it was now, even if I left this job I knew work would be next to impossible to find, much less something that suited my degree at this point. For those of us who still had a job, we were just hanging onto a title that was being consistently made more and more meaningless. “Georgina?” My boss. “So, she wanted this one file delivered to the system? But it turns out she wanted that and something else. She said that ‘If I always ask for X, you should know by now that I want Y too.’” I scoffed aloud. “Jesus, she’s frustrating! She just assumes that I’m supposed to know what she wants? One of these days I’m just gonna…” And yet, the audience wasn’t laughing, nor was I given any applause. I don’t know what it was, but my mouth ran dry. Maybe it was just coming face to face with reality. One of these days wasn’t going to happen… I wasn’t going to do anything. “So…yeah.” It ended much more awkwardly. And yet, Kailey could always get a read and keep the momentum. “Ugh,” she scoffed for me, “is she still giving you a hard time? You know, I really thought things were gonna be better once they issued that whole restructuring for the country,” she frowned. “All I hear now from coworkers about how their husbands and boyfriends are just being picked on by their new bosses…!” “W-well,” I didn’t intend for that to be the subject, and I didn’t feel that I was being picked on, nor did I need the concern… But once Kailey got the microphone, she always seemed to run away with it. “Do you want me to talk about that when I call her?” Kailey stoked her flame, “I don’t want her picking on you anymore.” “K-Kailey, she’s…she’s not picking on me.” What had this become? It was elementary school all over again. From day one I was weirded out when HR contacted Kailey behind my back just to form communications. Like she was my guardian. I can say with certainty that her workplace made no attempt to give me a direct line to her boss. From speaking with other guys in the office and hearing secondhand accounts, we weren’t the only ones either. We weren’t the only company. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt just to ask? So we can make sure that she’s being patient with you?” “Kailey, please, I don’t need anyone being ‘patient’ with me.” Of all people, hearing Kailey say that made me upset. I was her equal, and she didn’t need support, so why did I? I watched her purse her lips before finally saying, “Okay…I’m sorry. I just worry, you know?” “There’s no need to,” I smiled confidently. “I’m an adult,” I tried to make a joke, and it did make Kailey smile. “All done?” Kailey suddenly asked and I looked down at my plate. Mostly empty. It was delicious, after all. “Uh…yeah,” I said as she was already lifting it from the table. “Stay right there. I have another surprise~!” A surprise? Surprises were always great with Kailey. From memory’s past, surprises could mean a new game, new bottle of alcohol, a nice plant, photo, maybe, or a new piece of lingerie for her to get frisky in. Surprises with Kailey were fun. They always were. Always. They were exciting, which is why I didn’t understand the knot in my stomach. I felt…uneasy. What was she about to spring on me? Maybe it was the awkward start we had once I got home. Maybe it was in all the ways she’d been brushing up against…reality during dinner. It almost made me want to throw up for some reason. And in gaslighting myself I was suddenly sitting with a cold sweat, waiting for her to return. What was she about to do? “Close your eyes?” She called from the kitchen, still out of view. Close my eyes? For what? Since when? Surprises never started like this. They just happened…! Before I knew it I was already clenching my fists, pressing them into my legs. Slowly I closed them, against my nervous and crumbling will. “K-kay!” I called from my chair. I could hear her walk back in and around the table. She set something on it. Plastic, maybe? Could it…was it…? I was bracing myself to bolt from the chair. No. Not her. Not Kailey…please! Anyone but her…! “Ready to open them?” No. Never. Not if it meant keeping what we had. Keeping things still the same. Like they’d always been. Like they always would be. “S…sure?” “Okay…! On ‘now’,” she started, then slowly recited. “3…” “2…” “1…” “Now!” Maybe it was me wanting to deny reality, but I’m pretty sure I waited another second longer. Slowly, I drew back my lids, readjusting to the light as I looked at what was in front of me. Plastic…Fuck…Fuck! But not the bad kind. I remembered to breathe once I noticed that it was a thin plastic container. Inside it were three hearty long rows of large, delicious-looking cookies. Not crude and crinkly…whatever. “Ta-da!” my girlfriend excitedly clapped her hands. “You know what they are, right?!” “Co…cookies?” I asked almost half-skeptically. I was still trying to recover from the shock of fully expecting my life to end right then and there on the spot. “Yes, just boring old cookies,” Kailey rolled her eyes at me, grinning all the way. “No! Cookies from Jasmine’s?” She placed extra emphasis on the name. Jasmine’s. My favorite bakery. My favorite place for sweets, sugars, and confectionaries of any kind imaginable. How could I not love the place? After all, it was the first place Kailey and I went since we started dating. A fun silver lining to a place that I already liked. With my favorite kinds of cookies, no less. Chocolate Chip. Marshmallow, and M&M’s. “W-” I finally had shaken enough nervousness from my system to laugh. “Wow…! You, you didn’t have to, you know?” “I know that much,” Kailey laughed, “I did it because I wanted to! Now, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share?” “Share my cookies?” I cockily challenged her, to which she raised her brows. We both burst into giggles while I tore open the packaging. Soft, chewy, and delicious. All the right things with the perfect mouthful. “God,” I mumbled in cookie-speak. We had since moved over to the couch. “I dunno how they do it…” “Right?” Kailey was wiping her mouth. “These really are good. If I remember though you’re the one who took us there for the first time? Guess I gotta give you credit,” she rubbed shoulders with me. “...Kailey…?” “Yeah?” “I…I’m really glad you’re my girlfriend, you know?” “O…” Kailey looked at me for a moment with her mouth agape. I could see her eyes starting to glisten with a forming smile. “Oliver…I’m really glad we’re together too.” And cookie crumbs be damned, we shared in an intimate kiss. We didn’t talk much for the next few minutes. Too much cookie eating and plenty enough love to communicate what we didn’t have to say. “Sooo…?” Kailey’s voice sang into my ear, arm draped over my shoulder. Since the not-so-distant Jasmine Cookie massacre of 20XX, Kailey and I had been right next to each other on the couch. Her arm was around my waist; the normal position she started doing a few weeks back. Maybe it helps her feel secure? Don’t care and don’t think much about it, solely because it made me feel comfy too. “So?” I turned my head back at her. She was smiling from ear to ear, so obviously it was something. Something I obviously wasn’t getting at. “SooOOOooo,” she repeated with a thicker dose of implication and all I could do was laugh. It was comfy time, not twenty questions, which is why I gave up quickly. “What? So what? Tell me!” And yet all Kailey did was giggle, nuzzling her cheek against mine. “I love you, you know?” “I love you too…” Duh. I’d hope that there was love after everything we had gone through together. Kailey’s hand left my shoulder, creeping down my arm and following to my wrist, the one with the unfortunate shackle on it, but skipped right over and to my hand. Our fingers interlocked and felt her fingers against mine. “Did you enjoy dinner?” She asked in a soothing, yet cheery voice. Damn, her angelic voice could always put me to sleep. Her vocal cords were wrongfully unregistered weapons that I’d occasionally fall victim to. Staring off into space, feeling warm and loved, I muttered back, “Of course I did, you made my favorite, after all…” “Good.” I felt her squeeze my hand again. Not too strong, but not weak either. “And the cookies?” Kailey did say, but was already chuckling. I could already imagine her eyes peering over at the half-empty container sitting on the coffee table. In my defense, I was only responsible for two-thirds of the murders. “Yes…” I rubbed my head against the crook of her shoulder. Intimacy like this really was dangerous for the senses. I’d be asleep before I even knew it. My sight may have been fading, but I still could feel the touch, hear the sounds, taste the last few crumbs on the corner of my mouth. And so eloquently with just the right lack of class, Kailey chuckled, “Double good.” It was one of her patently “dumb-time” moments, and that couldn’t make me feel any fuzzier than it already did. It was my way of knowing Kailey could let her guard down. Around me. How I knew she didn’t do this with anyone else was really a baseless assumption, but with how smart she was and how dignified, I simply couldn’t imagine it any other way. Two years. Two amazing years of just this. A long and loving relationship with so much intimacy, trust and vulnerability. In the few times that I felt scared Kailey could always drown that out ten times over. It was perfect. Magical. But I was on cloud nine, and nothing could make this moment any better. Nothing more than just one thing. Something I was feeling so daring and so happily selfish to ask. A question we’d entertained and humored with nudges and kicks down the timeline; never answered nearly in full or even halfness. Never until now…? It was all tonight Kailey’s gift to me, but the passion and desire was growing, and I desperately wanted to give back with a gift just as great. “...Oliver, I–” My adrenaline accidentally let me cut in. “--Kailey?” If I didn’t ask now, I’d probably lose the courage to for another whole month. But not this time, even if it meant stealing the lead. “...Y-yeah?” “...I want to ask you something,” I stated so confidently, yet despite being the small spoon with my hand cradled and coddled by hers. My eyes were aimed at the muted TV, but my focus was in another place entirely. “Something serious.” “Of…of course?” Kailey listened, and I shuffled in turn with her own body trying to get comfortable. “What’s up?” “We’ve…we’ve been together for two years now… Two…amazing, awesome years together. A part of my life I’d never want to give to anyone else but you, Kailey. You’ve made me the happiest person in the world.” “O-Oliver…!” Kailey whispered in a hush, squeezing me by the waist. I couldn’t see her face, but I had no need to. “So that’s why I don’t want to lose you to anyone else…I want us to be together for the rest of our lives.” And instead of another affectionate squeeze or lovey-dovey comment, all I got was a light slap on the shoulder, surprisingly. “Hey, don’t take my opening line!” A few seconds of laughing later and I kept going. “You’re the smartest, hardest working, and most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen… Since day one I knew you were the one for me. You talk, you listen, you care, and you love. As jealous as I am of who you are as a person…having you all to myself makes me just as happy.” The words were making me blush and my heart flutter, but it was all true and I was so desperate to say it all, especially with the way her fingers were starting to weave through mine. I kept going. “S…so…Kailey…I was wondering, if uhm…would you–” “--Wait!” Kailey, the love of my life, interrupted at the worst possible time. “S-sorry…” she muttered in a flustered voice. My Kailey? Flustered? So rarely did she ever sound like this, and it made my heart do somersaults in pure euphoria. It was instinctual. My second wind to try again after hearing her out, simply because of how much I knew this was going to work out. It was certain now. “I…I think I know what you’re trying to say…” she giggled, like we were sitting face to face in Jasmine’s for the first time all over again, splitting a big round cookie with two cups of coffee. “But…everything tonight…the dinner, the dessert…I…I was trying to do it too…” My heart nearly stopped. Her thumb danced in my palm and I tried not to fidget; to not explode from stimulus overload. Far too much love intake, not enough exhaust. She was going to ask. To confess. I had the worst timing…! I interrupted her! I laughed aloud. “I-I guess we know each other too well, huh?” “Yeah,” she laughed right back, “guess we do…! So…how about this? Together? Let’s ask each other together?” A thought we both had, but a question we would pop together. I knew exactly how it would sound; our words and voices matched in perfect harmony. Screw the sound of my own voice, though. Just to hear it from Kailey would be enough to let me die an early death. I could already cry from the insinuation and my imagination alone. We briefly separated just to sit on either end of the couch, facing each other. Our hands laid in our laps, nervous as all hell just from trying to re-summon the courage we kept accidentally taking from the other. “T-together?” I asked, or tried to confirm? Like maybe the rules had inexplicably changed or one of us forgot. “To…together…” Kailey nodded, smiling so widely and so excitedly, and before I knew it she was a perfect mirror for my emotions. “On three?” “On three…!” “One…” “Two…” “Three!” And then it happened. The words I’d been waiting my whole life to ask. “Will you marry me?” The moment was paralyzing, and just to find the courage to say them and offer myself for such a wonderful lifelong commitment tuned out my surroundings entirely. The world we lived in wasn’t a factor and neither was the society we were trying to find our safe haven in. She hadn’t even said yes yet; I hadn’t even said yes yet, but here I was, already starting to tear up. Pure happiness in its rawest form possible. Nothing but joy and excitement for who I had and always will. “Oliver…!” The sound of her voice. Sweet. Serenity. Now I wish I did talk to her about this beforehand, at least about giving her a ring… It felt like a crime at this point. How could I not give something as thanks to the most beautiful person in the world? My treasure? “Oliver?” I blinked and found my feet in reality again, coming back into place with my emotions and senses again. I laughed aloud. I really was dumbstruck with love. “S-sorry…” I wiped my teary eye apologetically, “It’s just…a lot, you know? But I promise you, Kailey. I mean it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Kailey, the love of my life, softly smiled, sliding over on the couch. She put her hand on my leg. “I do too, Oliver…” And there it was. Yes. She said it. Accepted. Agreed. No baking out now. Not ever. Never. I played the game and won. I found my hope before this entire set could crash and burn entirely. Kailey day by day felt more like salvation itself, but she in her own right as an individual was irreplaceable, and to know that she’s the one who chose me…! Her gentle rub on my thigh got me out of my own head again. Crap, hopefully she didn’t back out if I started getting distracted the next few days…or next whole month? This was going to be an amazing novelty that frankly I wouldn’t mind ever wearing off. “Oliver?” she asked me, and I smiled dumbly. That put a weird smile on her face too. Oh! This is too good! “You didn’t answer my question?” “Wh-what?” I chuckled, then I remembered her disappointed attitude a couple minutes ago. I’d gone and stole the show; skipped to the ending by popping the question before even she could. Sure I felt guilty, but I felt loved, and that mattered more. But never one to be selfish, and one more than willing to please, I straightened my back and proudly said, “Yes, Kailey, of course I’ll marry you!” Two proposals in one night? What a story this’ll be to tell! Residual giggles dissipated from me and I settled down, but it was only just me making the noises. Frankly I was wondering why Kailey was being so tardy to the emotion party. But Kailey was showing emotion, just a much more quiet one. A sideways look with her brows sliding up towards the center. “That’s…uhm…” My fiance momentarily avoided my eyes, adjusting her loose hair, “that…” And maybe for just a moment, my fantasy cracked. “That isn’t what I asked…” I blinked, still with my confident and eternal smile. My dearest love laughed apologetically. Awkwardly? The room felt a little tighter when I squinted my eyes, but I shrugged it off. “O-okay? Well, what’d you ask?” Kailey was my rock and I did believe in her, but I didn’t want to be the one to say that whatever small misunderstanding there was, it didn’t really matter that much…! She gave me a brief discerning look, and just maybe, just somehow, maybe it was me. Maybe I was missing something? But her lips came back together and her smile was back, so mine was too. I was happy again because she was as well. Then her mouth opened and her lips moved. Silence. Total silence. “W-wait,” my shoulders bounced with my laugh as I reached for the remote. “S-sorry, too loud,” I excused my suddenly bad hearing as I killed the TV. “One…one more time?” “Sure…” she agreed and her teeth were starting to show again. Every time I asked it was like pressing a euphoria switch for her. It had to have been the same way I felt about proposing just then. And then it started all over again. “Oliver, will you…” but she grew quiet. So quiet to the point that either I’d gone deaf or she was mute. And I knew it wasn’t my fault, I think, once I heard a distant car driving outside the apartment. “Wait–” I waved up my hands, motioning to the window as I walked to it, “noisy outside. Just a sec?” “Are you just pulling my leg?” Kailey was starting to smirk now; playfully impatient. “No! I’m serious!” I doubled down with the smooth slam and shut of the street-side window. “Okay, I promise this time; I can hear!” Probably? I took my seat back on the couch. “Ready this time. Swear it.” Just to prove it, I took a nice deep breath, even. Part of me even wanted to ask if she could speak up a little, but I feel like I’d beaten that sound business to death enough… “Oliver…” Kailey started, but she paused, edging her head forward. Reading her mind, I pleaded, “Still listening!” She laughed. “Okay, just checking. Oliver, will you, the most loving, wonderful person I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting in my life, be…” But drat, now my foot was tapping and my knees were bouncing all on their own. Just the tiniest squeak from the ball of my foot on the wood could somehow be such a noisy disturbance! Both our eyes fell down to my legs, and I looked at her apologetically, yet again. “Sorry, my–uhm…” I held down on my knees firmly this time. “Promise! Last interruption! I can hear for real now, so–!” “--Oliver!” Kailey came right over and latched her hands on my arms. The distance between us was just a single head’s width. “Will you be my little boy?” My mouth opened, but I wasn’t making any noise. My jaw hung agape, and my lips tried to move now, but somehow I’d become silent to my own noise. The tremors started again as soon as my hand left my knee, trying to raise a confused protest for something I totally did not just hear. Not from Kailey. Not from my new fiance. I tried to move my eyes, looking away and dropping my head, but every which way I looked there Kailey was, finding me right at the receiving end. “Oliver…?” she squeezed my arm, smiling and curious. “Hey, enough games, already! You’re not gonna tell me you didn’t hear that too, right?” Because I doubt she’d let me get away with that. Get away with trying to say I’d somehow magically forgotten this entire fucking evening. Just to protect what I desperately wanted back now. What maybe was still salvageable. “I-I…” I blinked and tried to look for something to stand my conscience on, but I was slipping and falling farther and faster the longer she held onto me. “W…What? Wh-what did you ask?” “Ugh,” Kailey’s eyes did circles with an exaggerated scoff. “This isn’t a very fun game, you know. If you’re just trying to get me more comfortable saying it, well you got the job done!” “B…but…I…” And would my unfortunate luck have it, I caught a glimpse of my naked, shackled wrist. It wasn’t any kind of ring, but it was a proposal. An offer I should have refused. A chilling realization far too late. “Ka...Kailey…wh-why?” I watched her hand fall around mine. “Baby? What’s wrong? Did…did I say something wrong?” The room was finally spinning; catching up with the rest of the world already trapped in full-swing. The tremors and shakes, the waves and wobbles had finally caught up. There were cracks in the ceiling and the walls, the floors and the cushions beneath us. It was all seeping in. “Why…” I asked as my voice came to me, “Why would you even…ask something like that?” “Wh…” she stuttered and squeezed my hand, “W-well, we love each other, don’t we?” It was finally a sense of reason that I could speak to. “Yes! I-I love you more than anything, Kailey!” “Oliver,” she drew me into a hug, “I love you more than anything too? So why are you being so weird right now?” “Weird?” I slipped further down the couch and I was graciously let go. “I’m the weird one? When…when you’re the one who just asked me that? Kailey, I just asked you to marry me!” She slowly and barely nodded, adjusting a hair behind her ear as she said, “I…” I watched her trace her thigh with her palm, slowly sliding up and down. “I know…” And as my girlfriend sorted through her awkwardness, I tried not to cry from recalling what was supposed to be a core memory of the moment we became hooked on eternal matrimony. I heard it. Both our voices when we asked and popped the same exact question…! Will you marry me? Will you marry me? Will you marry me? Will you– Be my little boy? A sick knot twisted in my stomach and I knew it wasn’t the cookies or the pasta. I heard her voice. I was hearing it the whole time. I heard everything. Everything. But it didn’t make sense…! Not one fucking bit! We loved each other, and she just said how much she loved me! So why? Why the fuck was this happening?! “B-but…you said…you said you loved me too?” My voice cracked with the words and the confusion in them couldn’t have been more obvious. “Oliver, I do love you! So much! More than anything!” “S-so…why? Why won’t you…?” “...Oliver…” Kailey finally looked saddened and pained, thankfully in a place that was recognizable to me. The Kailey that I knew. A Kailey that could be hurt, and not the one that could ask something so outlandish and…indoctrinated. “M…marriage…I… Just…don’t you think that isn’t a good fit for us?” The feeling left my face, and all I could do was stare. “I mean I just…” she started her rant, then stopped when she saw me. “O-oh, no, Oliver– please, I promise you. I promise I wasn’t trying to mislead you or…or anything like that! Baby,” and why did she have to use that kind of pet name? Suddenly it meant so many gross things now, “We’ve been together for so long, and I’d never give you up for anything. Oliver, you’re my world!” I sniffled back, “Y-you’re my world too…” So why? Fucking why? “I…I’ve known for a long time I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” she smiled and it made my chest feel warm, despite the typhoon of confusion and upset in my head and heart, “but…only these past few months I guess I’ve really been starting to…’shape’ that.” “--A-and I did the same!” I cut in desperately, finding just the right moment to jump in and save my girlfriend from whatever propaganda was taking her from me. “Y-you thought about it, right? Day after day? Thinking of the best way to ask and how to propose?” I needed this more than anything. Her like-mindedness. The desperate hope of saving any of this. “Yes!” She smiled so widely and it made my vision blurry. “So…so long… H-how to ask…what we should do that night: Go to the movies? The park? A festival? Restaurant? I’ve thought so much…” So clean and so honest. It was exactly what I was thinking! “I’ve talked t-to friends, read blogs…forums…” No…no…no…! “So why won’t marriage work?” I wiped my eyes just to stop Kailey coming for them herself. “Oliver, it’s just…that isn’t for me…it’s not for us.” “How is it not?!” I raised my voice, “You love me! I love you!” I may have been a fool compared to Kailey, but I sure as hell knew one-plus-one logic. “And you’re right; it is like that. But…my love, Oliver, it’s…different, okay?” “Different?” In what possible way? “Yes, different,” she nodded assertively. “Oliver…do you know what makes me happy the most when I’m with you?” And suddenly I was afraid to ask. “It’s…it’s not the sex. It’s not the kissing–the making out,” it sounded like she corrected herself, like some kinds of kisses were different from others. “Oliver, it’s when I get to see you after a long day at work. When I get a big hug and kiss from you. When I get to hear about your day; help you make your problems feel small, or help push them away…! When we sit down on the couch, I can surprise you with your favorite cookies, or make you your favorite dinner! When I can cuddle with you!” What a chilling revelation. “Y-you mean…you don’t…?” All those nights? All those times? When we were sharing a bed, loving each other in the most intimate way possible…? “Wh-what about those outfits? Th-the lingerie? You love those! Y-you’re sexy, Kailey! You’re hot!” Not some cute mommy! “I did that for you, Oliver, because that’s what couples do. We do the things our partners love.” Her words dropped like a guillotine. Like I’d been living a lie my whole life. “L-look, baby, please… I don’t mean any of this in a cruel way, I promise! I liked it all too, okay? I did, but…” “But what?” I poured my heart out to her. I thought I knew her. But apparently I knew nothing at all. “But it’s different now. I don’t know…that changed somehow, sometime. But it doesn’t matter, because my love for you is still the same! I don’t love you any less, it’s just…different!” “So if you can love me like that, why can’t you marry me, Kailey?” “Because…it’s not being honest with myself and it’s not being fair to you,” I watched her nose gently exhale. “Oliver…I know it bothers you with how things are right now,” bother couldn’t even begin to describe it, “but...how I feel hasn’t changed. I’ve given it some time and tried to think. Maybe I could see it some way differently, but…I can’t. I can’t and I won’t. This matters too much to me. You matter too much to me. I love you and that’s why I want what others have, but for us!” “I don’t want that! I don’t want any of it!” I stepped back finally from the couch and came to my feet. “I want you, Kailey! None of that crap society is forcing on either you or me! I want you as my wife, and nothing else!” “Oliver…” Kailey stood up and tried to reach for me, but I took one more step back. “Please? Just try to think about this from my perspective?” “I already have! I’ve…I’ve been thinking about it from yours– from society’s for so fucking long!” Every man bemused into a boy. Taken down every single peg they have until they’re just incompetent, dependant stumps for their lovers. Their mommies. But now it wasn’t any unknown face or magic brick wall. No set of talking-points casually and softly pushed on a daily basis from passing adverts or politicians and speakers. Now it was in our home, and it was Kailey herself. My world was crumbling as reality itself smashed all my dreams and hopes, and I was in tears. “Oliver, please! We…we can still do those things? We can still kiss like we used to, and we can…we can still do some of those other things!” Some? “What could you possibly want that we already don’t have?” I shot out my arm, trying to swipe away at any of the madness still wafting in the air. “You, Oliver. I want you!” Kailey suddenly and for once raised her voice. “I don’t want a boyfriend anymore that stays mad, bitter and scared of the outside world! I don’t want a boyfriend who has to feel scared just for trying to live his life! Don’t you get how that makes me feel? How that tears me up? Having to call your boss, not knowing if she made your life a living hell that day? Hoping you’ll come home safe to me on your own?” “Can’t you listen to yourself?! Who even are you, Kailey? I don’t need a babysitter to manage my worklife and get me home! I’m a grown-fucking adult!” “You’re a BOY, OLIVER!” Kailey cried back in a yell and it sent tingles down my spine. Her hands were balled and there was a fierce, passionate look in her eyes. “Y-you’re…!” Finally, she sniffled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re my boy! M-my…my sweet thing that I want nothing more than to protect! I’m tired of seeing you so distant and upset! Mad and angry! Scared! I just want you to be happy, and I know how to give that to you! I don’t want you to have to carry around responsibilities like they’re the weight of the world you feel some imaginary obligation to hold on to!” “T-then where does that leave me, Kailey? Where does that leave us? I-I can’t…I can’t do that. I won’t. I want an equal, Kailey. A partner. I’m not looking for a Mommy!” And probably neither was any of the rest of the male population in the world. And yet, here we all were, far too late to realize just how much the water was really boiling. And if we couldn’t come to an understanding, then… “I-is this it? Does this mean we’re breaking up then?” It didn’t take long for her to answer. “No, Oliver, it doesn’t mean that! Not even close!” she cried in an offended tone. “Honey, please, I’ve said it so many times, and I’ll keep saying it for as long as I need to: I love you! I love you more than anything! We’re not breaking up, and I’m not letting that happen.” “Then where the hell does that leave us, Kailey? I’m not being your little boy! I want a wife!” “And I won’t be your wife,” her hands finally dropped on her hips. “I won’t because I love you too much to be. A wife isn’t what you really want, Oliver; it’s not what you need!” “Don’t tell me what I need!” I trembled with the words firing from my mouth. “N-no…no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t!” I turned and stormed off to the bedroom. Duffel bag. A suitcase. Something to pack clothes. “Oliver? Where are you going?” Kailey called right from behind me. We listened to two pairs of feet moving down the hall. “I’m packing. I’m leaving.” Maybe some time apart could help her. Help Kailey come to her senses. Or maybe…really…this was it. This was somehow actually the end of us. But it wasn’t the end yet when I stopped short of the doorway at the end of the hall. My wrist was tugged and Kailey’s hand was on the other end of it. “Oliver! You’re being ridiculous! Can’t we just talk this through?” “Talk what through?! Talk about how you’d want me to quit my job that’s already been so fucking mutilated? St-start dressing down to stuff more ‘socially’ appropriate?” Those were the fucking worst. Watching all the commercials about ‘social’ rebranding of men’s wardrobe. Dressing down into their ‘new roles’ and ‘inner selves.’ Stripes and neons. Suspenders and fucking elastics…! “We’d talk about all of it, Oliver! I’m not trying to trick you! I want to discuss everything, because we’re partners! I…I just want us to become more than that!” I roughly yanked my arm away, but only with a struggle. A struggle I was allowed to win. “I don’t. I’m not doing this, Kailey. I don’t want to become your little boy, and I don’t want to call you anything else other than your actual name!” “Oliver, please! Mommies let their kids call them by their real names all the time! You can too!” And in a brief deafening silence, I gave her such a deranged look, just to communicate how far out of touch we were. “Where’s my suitcase,” I said while my back was turned, storming into the closet of our bedroom. A bedroom I wouldn’t be seeing for a while. “Gone, Oliver.” “Gone? Why?!” She was leaning by the doorway, like she was waiting for me to finish a tantrum. “Because I’ve been thinking about this night for over a month! I planned for everything. I tried to think of every possible way you might react.” “So you thought I might react rationally and try to leave?” “That you might not want to confront the truth,” she frowned. The fucking nerve…! The person I loved…! “You’re not leaving, Oliver. We’re discussing this.” “What, until I just cave in and agree to everything you demand of me?!” I angrily knocked down a small stack of empty shoe boxes. Right where I remembered our suitcase being. I stepped out of the closet, slamming the door. Fine. We have plastic bags in the kitchen. The first thing I did was go up to the dresser, yanking open the top drawer for my briefs. Empty. Second drawer. Empty. I gave her an accusing look. “I told you, laundry,” Kailey put it gently, but it hit me no less hard than any of her other knife-twisting, hypnotizing blabber. “But, your briefs…well…” all she could do was sigh, and seeing a stranger so far from the person that I thought I knew made it so much clearer and easier to connect her to the worst facets possible of this entire movement. “Y-you…my…my fucking underwear?” Plastic cookie tray. Plastic. “N-no,” I shook my head. Violently. “No. Absolutely not. Never in a fucking million years! What the hell are you thinking, Kailey?!” “Oliver, please, calm down!” she stepped off the doorframe and rushed over, gently, yet firmly forcing me to have a seat on the bedside. “This is all a discussion, okay? So please, just let’s talk? I’m not going to decide anything without you!” “Is that why you acted behind my back?” “It’s because I wanted to make sure everything went right. And…from everything I’ve read, this…this is expected.” “What the hell are you reading?” “Forums and posts. Other…mommies…people that have been in the same exact place as us right now. What we’re going through right this minute.” “Kailey, we’re about to lose our fucking relationship!” “No we’re not, because I know you love me, Oliver, and I love you too.” And she had the nerve to say it so passionately, too…! Making my heart ache so much despite becoming everything I’ve hated and feared! “It’s natural, okay? To…to feel angry, and scared. Oliver, we’re not losing anything between us, okay? This…this is a lot like marriage, just different!” “How is this anything like marriage?” No similarity other than a contract between each other. “For one thing,” she grabbed my hand, massaging it like things were somehow still the same, “we still love each other, right? We don’t care for each other any less? Oliver…what you’re looking for…what you think you are… It’s…it’s not out there.” “E-excuse me?” “Marriage? Husband and wife? That’s…no… Oliver, this,” she pulled up my hand, forcing my bracelet in front of me, “this is what love is!” she sniffled and her eyes started getting glossy, “I want you so badly to understand that!” And no matter what she said, the fact of the matter was how rocked to my core I felt. Kailey, a person I’d loved so long and so intimately for two long, wonderful years, and still love now despite the situation, was ultimately no one different than the rest. She’d decided on a “love” like this despite being my world and my everything. If the person I trusted most could turn out like this, what meant that there was anyone else out there who could be different? I had met her before a mass-indoctrination of sexist domineering opinions and she was still corrupted in the end. My Kailey. Claimed and changed. Permanently. Trapped behind a prefabricated wall of logic and reason that wasn’t hers but the armor she wore. What snowball’s chance in hell did I have of ever meeting someone post all of this corrupting propaganda? With Kailey I had the chance of a normal relationship for years. A fucking stranger this afternoon was getting ready to diaper me in a bathroom…! “We’ll start slow,” she sniffled and pressed her forehead against mine. “We’ll talk about everything. All of it. I want us to be happy, Oliver, and I can’t keep things the same as they are now because I’m not happy, and I know you’re not too. So please, can’t we stop pretending and just rip off the bandage?” Maybe we could try to stay the same, but society wouldn’t stop moving and gears wouldn’t cease turning. Between us and the world, Kailey for the first time was finally telling me to get ahead of it… “K-Kailey…” my hand found its way on her shoulder, and I started to sob. “I can’t…! I don’t want this! I…I wanted something else with you…but not this!” “I know it’s scary,” she pulled me in for a hug, locking me in place with her deceptive warmth. “But you have me? I’m gonna get us through all of this because I know how happy we’ll both be on the other side of it. No more having to deal with mean coworkers and bosses; doesn’t that sound nice?” It actually did, and that’s what made me feel worse. She let go of me and I watched her kneel in front of the bed. My heart made a nervous tick as she lifted the bed skirt and the sound of plastic packaging rustled from underneath. I fought the urge to close my eyes once it slid out from underneath the shadows I wished it had never crawled out from. The love of my life stood up, holding the purest most vile poison I’d ever seen. The worst part of it all. Rock bottom the truest sense of romantic loss I’d ever laid eyes on, and was unfortunately forced to see on so many others. So many other emasculated men. “K-Kailey…” I winced, like I was looking straight at the cancer-giving sun. “Oliver…” her hands slightly pressed and the large plastic cube crinkled some more. This couldn’t be real. It had to have been the twilight zone. “This is part of the discussion… It’s…it’s important to me.” Suddenly my briefs in the laundry, if that’s where they really were, didn't feel so coincidental anymore. Kailey may have claimed to not be a liar, but she certainly betrayed, deceived and tricked. And before she could even have the pleasure of speaking it aloud, I whimpered the word myself. “D-...diapers…really?” Kailey quietly sat beside me, holding her arms over them like it was a treasure. “I…I want it so badly, Oliver…!” I barely glanced at them before looking away. Already torn open, a stack of thickly designed adult diapers sat between my girlfriend’s arms. Smiling trucks, cars, and planes. Like there was legitimate joy to be had in losing out on actual toilet privileges. Quietly she set the package aside though, strolling over to the dresser. “I…wanted to try and surprise you with one…” she opened the lowest drawer and pulled out the lone disposable rectangle. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I wanted to run, so desperately, but I knew she wouldn’t let me. Kailey would physically prevent me. For us, as she’d claim. And what sucked so badly was just how much I loved her. How in spite of everything up until now, deep down I still wanted us. Even if this whole world had gone to hell and had become some terrible dystopian situation, I wanted to suffer in that hell with at least the one person I loved, even…even if that love was different. It was the sadness of settling in. The displeasure of knowing I’d never get anything better than this. “K-Kailey…” I wiped my eyes, “...please…!” I could barely hear my sobs over the unfurling of plastic padding. She smoothened the comforter, setting a towel that’d magically appeared on it while she spoke. “Oliver, it’s going to be a lot of change, but that’s nothing you weren’t expecting if you wanted us to be married, right? There’s always growing pains. There’s always new experiences. There’s always new discussions. We’ll talk about this. About all of it, and we can compromise.” She fully spread it now, letting both ends have their wings spread free. The interior lining looked terribly soft. Unfortunately so. I was meeting my maker by the hands of the person I’d least expected. “Can you please come over here? We can talk while we give this a try?” she pressed her hands on her legs tentatively. Calling it out as we felt so disingenuous, and yet Kailey wouldn’t stop trying. As much as she was robbing me of the lead, she kept on asking me. Begging me to accept in a way that made this less painful. She wouldn’t let me go because she knew I wouldn’t find anyone else. No one as accommodating as her, nor as kind. That, and just maybe, she actually did love me. Was this how other guys felt? Was this exact situation really as common as those fake and phony articles said? I hiccuped the moment she undid my slacks, dropping them to the floor. “You know I still think you have the most handsome body, right?” she touched her nose with mine, and in some twisted confusion I let out a small chuckle, holding back the tears. And like it was somehow approval, Kailey laughed right back, smiling so widely. So clearly. Shining the sun down on me so strongly that I was yet again afraid to look. Afraid because it actually made my heart ache. I wanted the affection so badly, yet I was right in the midst of having to deal with what came with it. My body flinched the moment my naked behind hit the top of the diaper. “Is it soft?” she asked, tugging the plastic sides out from underneath me, and I shivered in uncertainty and shame. Was there a chance at just locking this away as a form of roleplay? Letting our normal lives stay as they were? I didn’t answer, so she continued. “Oliver…please, I know this might be hard at first, but you’re going to understand just how much I love you. I’m going to show you that in so many more ways now.” “Th-this is love for you?” I croaked up at the ceiling, feeling the crinkly thick front draw up to my crotch, only after a tender massage from my would’ve-been wife from a white cloud of wispy smoke being powdered on me. “Yes, Oliver,” and the sides drew to a close. One-two-three-four, and a quartet of tapes were pressed onto my front. “It is.” And she looked down at me, and I looked up at her. Just as my bare leg moved my diaper crinkled and just then I saw the twinkle in her eye. A look I hadn’t seen in so…so long. Something that I had never noticed until now. “Ollie…” she whispered, bringing her hand right between my legs that felt so forced apart now, leaving a large runway for nothing now but my lover’s invasions. A spot that used to be occupied by what we shared in bed on naked, restless nights. But her smile and her grin. The tears in her eyes. The pure, unadulterated joy that even I could tell, laying there sad and confused in my very first of many diapers. This really was everything to her. I was everything to her. Just as I’d been from the start. I doubt she’d ever have any interest in sex again. I wasn’t even sure if I’d see her fully naked ever again. Not that I couldn’t, but because the power structure had just been rocked so heavily that roles and rules were changing on the spot. “Thank you…” she cupped my cheeks and kissed me on the forehead. Not the lips. “You’re my everything. You look so precious…!” I let her sit me up, crinkling all the way, and now I couldn’t even sit reliably on the edge anymore. My plastic, smoothened behind, couldn't make up anything now other than frictionless touches. “Oops!” she giggled so softly, holding an arm on my stomach, just like she did when we cuddled on the couch, tugging me back a safe distance from the edge. Far back enough to stop slipping. “S-so…we get to talk about this…right?” I asked weakly, fighting a whole new wave of tears from a life well-lived, and a fearful attitude for what was to come. “Of course we will… But let’s leave it like this for tonight, okay? There’s a lot to cover, so…I just wanna take things slow.” Slow enough to give me plenty of time in diapers… For what I had no doubt Kailey would desperately try to make a permanent solution. I feared for what really was a discussion and more just an explanation for how things assuredly were now… I moved and my underwear crinkled. “And Ollie? I did just think of one thing?” I looked up at her. “It’s kind of like marriage, if you think about it? I mean,” her arm came around me and she smirked, hugging my far shoulder. “After all, you’re getting my last name now, right?” Maybe nothing really changed, after all.

This is my first attempt at a story. It’s kind of a slow burn, but it will quickly ramp up. In any case, here it goes. Falling In Reverse “Wake up baby girl, today’s your big day,” a sing-song Southern-twanged voice floated me awake, “it’s your 2nd birthday, and there’s so much to do with such a short amount of time! This is such a big day for you, hon, Mommy is juuuust so excited!” I groggily awoke, taking in my surroundings. I lay in state in a large crib with sky scraping white bars. My room was decorated in a flowery motif with pink and white stripes, and a giant “Princess Jaclyn” hung from wooden letters above a closet. There were a few dressers, including a larger table with diapering supplies slinked on the top shelf. Next to my crib was a red haired woman with sultry looks...I was so lucky to belong to her... I was snapped out of my daze by the drawl of the red head. “Cmon baby, you are really wet, Mommy Beth needs to change your icky panties, your guests are going to be here soon!” Mommy Beth? Guests? A birthday party? I casually sucked on my pink pacifier, taking this all in for another day in a row. Mommy Beth took me out of my crib, led me to the changing table on the corner and began to change my diaper...everything came flowing back to me as I regained my footing for the daytime...it had been a long time, given the simple complexities of each day, I had begun to lose track, but I could not forget how it had all started and how I had gotten to this point...this was my 10th “second” in a row. As I had my legs raised and my diaper slipped under me, I began to daydream off in my own space. My journey to being Mommy Beth’s baby girl had started over a decade before. I was fully conscious now and as my wet diaper was mercifully changed into something dry, I looked at my Mommy’s radiant smile, sucked on my pacifier and began to daze back onto how it had all began... 10 Years Prior I had been a first year college freshman, away at school and away from the overbearing glares of my parental units. Freedom. Liberty. All that was awesome. This was finally afforded to me. I could hang out with who I wanted, i could stay up as late as I wanted, it was all at my fingertips. I took this newfound freedom to join groups online that would have been looked at as taboo and quite off putting by those around me; they’d certainly open me up to a large amount of ridicule at the very least. I’d grown up in a small conservative town in a rural environment hostile to change and free-thinking. So when I had the chance to bolt for greener pastures, I jumped on it and never looked back. It was finally an honest attempt at being able to finally distance myself from my past, no matter how twisted things may get in the future, for better or worse. I’d always had an interest in things that weren’t necessarily mainstream. Between my penchant for marihuana ingesting and love of ancient rock albums, I didn’t fit in with the popular groupings at school or within my own peer group. I was okay with that though, as I didn’t want to fit in, I yearned for more in my life than surrounding myself with a sad sass of sycophants ready to whoop it up over the woebegone tales of many a basketball game gone by. So when I’d been accepted into a school a million miles away from my throttled existence, I jumped at the chance to go. Sure, my family feigned sadness over my departure, but it was a necessary break for all of us. Little did I know, of course, that my break would be permanent. With the freedom now in front of me, I could finally utilize it to explore some inner voices in me that had been yearning to be out for some time, particularly in the sexual relations department. I’d long been interested in quite a few things, but I’d never gotten a chance to really explore them, other than spending scattered shots of time reading about them on an ancient dial up computer using AOL CDs as rocket fuel to the dark corners of the Interwebs. One thing in particular always drew my attention, and it was a strange one indeed. The sad truth was, I always had an intense interest in diapers. I couldn’t walk by a diaper aisle in a store without having my eyes glued to it. I couldn’t watch a diaper commercial on TV without doing the same, nor could I divert my attention elsewhere when my aunt changed my cousins. I had no attraction to children, of course. I wasn’t a pedophile...I just would whistfully imagine myself as the center star in a distant production of a diaper change by someone, anyone. It was a strange thing to think of, but I was borderline obsessed with it. Doing an internet search one day while the rest of my family was at a high school basketball game, I found a treasure trove of stories and the like that made me realize I wasn’t alone in my desires. Since I had nowhere to turn to in my immediate vicinity, I never acted on my desires, instead looking for new posts on forums at scattershot times to keep my desires going. Soon, I was off to my new locale; I’d been accepted into the University of Hawaii, a place I could finally branch out in. I could finally be myself, meet a new crowd, and could finally explore what really made me tick. I flew out from my rural habitat to Honolulu a week before classes started, so I could acclimate to my new surroundings. When I got to my dorm, I finally had an outlet, and a place for privacy. Being antisocial as I was, I’d requested that I be placed in a single unit. I had to share a bathroom, of course, but that was a small price to pay. Setting up shop in my room, I felt like I’d entered some sort of alien futurist paradise. The Internet wasn’t dial up, I had free cable. I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. That night, I set up my computer and went out for food. I’d even bought a few decorations for my room, including a lacquered porcupine fish, which I’d planned to hang from my ceiling. After I’d gotten back in, I decided to surf the Internet before I fell asleep. It wasn’t long before I’d hit on my vices again. One thing led to another, and I’d soon found my way to a listing of Yahoo groups. I searched “ab/dl mommies” and a group jumped out. It was titled “AGE PLAY PERSONALS” and featured a host of people seeking, apparently, play partners. I decided to take a scattershot approach, and began IMing friend requests on a blanket scale, many to no avail. I’d given up, becoming disheartened by the results of my seemingly delusional adventure. If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is, I kept telling myself. As I’d changed into reading something non-fetish related, I received an alert. BethyBubbles9 had accepted my friend request and was now online. My heart jumped. It seemed a new adventure had begun...

It was late February, and I needed a new place to stay fast. I found a listing in the most unlikely place due to a sudden, passing glance, and now I was getting ready to spend my first night. The landlady seemed like a nice woman on the phone, and the photo of the house looked like it was going through renovations--but the price was right. What did I have to lose? I got there to find Ms. Yang a few years younger than me, and considerably smaller. That being said, she had a unusual silent intensity about her which suggested she wasn't to be crossed. This was her house, and I was a paying guest. Her dark eyes stared silently at me as I took in my new room. It was nearly empty, aside from a black futon raised off the floor on a metal frame. "We have to get you ready for bed, it's late." She said. "Sorry it's so empty in here, I have things in the other room still. I will bring them." She held my shoulder and pushed me down onto the bed gently before being off. I took that as 'you're staying in bed for the night,' and didn't want to get back up again out of respect. I was pretty tired after all. Before long she returned with a thick, comfy looking folded blanket, which she placed on the foot of the bed before looking me up and down warmly. She was silent for a few seconds, before speaking firmly, but in a motherly and soft way. "Is that all you have? Where are your clothes?" I had to admit to her that I didn't have much. A suitcase of odds and ends was on the way, but that was about it. "Well, I have a single suitcase on the way," My voice shook. She looked at me with a sympathetic, but largely unreadable gaze. "Okay, can I help you? I have clothes you can wear to bed," She asked softly before reaching for the waistband of my sweats. I didn't resist her gentle touch, as unusual as it was, and allowed myself to be pushed onto my back by her so she could take them off. She smiled faintly and then was gone again. I was left in a tattered pair of boxer shorts, and a tee shirt. All while being in a mostly empty room. I couldn't complain about the hospitality, the vibe I was getting was that I was being welcomed in as a part of the family. There was an unspoken warmth and expectation of care that felt incredible, I wasn't about to divorce myself from that feeling which I hadn't known in so long. She returned again with a pile of garments which she laid down beside the blanket swiftly, before returning to focus on my midsection. "I have new underwear for you," she showed me two pairs of loose-fitting shorts, one in dark grey, the other in neutral skin tone. They looked like they were from Asia. I hesitated as she reached for my underwear. "Don't worry," she said warmly. I let her guide me into laying my head back on the pillow she brought, and then she slid down my old shorts, revealing my bare bottom. She held up what looked like a disposable diaper. "Do you pee in the night?" I did have to pee, I wasn't sure if I should ask her to get out of bed or not. She seemed to want me to stay there for the moment. I hadn't wet the bed in ages though, if at all. "Rarely." I replied. She made a funny face which suggested a bit of anxiety, before regaining her firm composure. "Please wear it?" She asked. Evidently she didn't have much faith in my toilet training, but I consented. "Sure, I'll wear it." It's just a diaper, it's not like they hurt to wear. I didn't expect that I'd be putting my diaper on by myself at this point. I let her guide me into laying on my side as she slid the opened brief underneath where I was laying moments before. She used a soft but firm grip as she returned me to my original position. Then, she pulled the front panel of my diaper up and spread my legs out a bit. I watched on in a deep sleepy calm as she fastened all four of the plastic tabs snug. She put her hand on my shoulder again and stared into my eyes in a wistful, motherly way. "Feel better?" she cooed. "They're comfortable," I replied, looking up at her in a half-asleep feeling of innocence. Wordlessly she began sliding up a pair of the shorts. She tucked them into the diaper below a little bit, which made them cozy and snug. Following soon after was the second pair. She made the waistband snap as she smiled at me. "All ready for bed." I answered her with a sleepy smile as she pulled the blanket she brought over me and tucked me in. The blanket, and room, was a little chilly and I shivered, which reminded me of my need to pee. I wondered if I should ask her about a quick visit to the toilet. I didn't even know where it was in the house yet. For all I knew, it was in renovation. "Can you take me to the bathroom?" I asked with a yawn. She shook her head. "No, it's time for bed." She cooed, putting her hand on my shoulder again. She began to stroke me with her thumb. "Use the diaper." I did what she said and began to pee effortlessly while laying on my back under the sheets I was cozily tucked into. I wasn't sure whether a drop was spilled or not, and wasn't sure how much I'd actually wet. It would be hard to check with two pairs of shorts over top. I realized I was pretty sleepy, and didn't care much. I was safely tucked away for the night, that's all that mattered. It seems like she noticed the newfound ease and sleepiness that fell over my face after my release. "That better?" "Yeah." "Night night," She said with a smile and wave. "Night." She turned off the lights and closed the bedroom door. The diaper didn't feel clammy or uncomfortable as my pee rested inside it. Didn't expect that. I fell asleep almost immediately, and it was one of the best sleeps of my life.

"Oh, you're always like this now," she mused. "Looks like my big boy's having another one of his pampers problems..." she gave me a pouty sad face before giggling. "Can't you do anything to keep dry?" I shook my head absentmindedly. "Well it's too bad, you used to be so grown up--but I know just what to do." she said, placing her hands on my hips. She looked me in the eyes, and then pulled me into a hug. Smelling her coconut, sea, and musk perfume filled me with emotion as I began to hold her tightly. I felt a dribble of pee begin in my diaper and breathed in her smell more fully, trying to forget my underwear shame. It wasn't enough though, and I felt myself beginning to tear up. "Awh, is someone crying? You know I love you no matter what, it's okay--" she whispered from above me. With her being a tall woman, I couldn't help but feel more at a loss in her presence. I was less like her boyfriend every day. She even called my underwear pampers, like I was some kind of baby! My thought train was interrupted by another spurt of wetness trickling down for a long moment before being absorbed somewhere below. "Shh, I know you're mature," she cooed. "It's just that we need a little help down there, help that diapees give you!" She returned her hands to my hips again and began to unfasten me. In the chilliness of having my diaper pulled away, I noticed what little arousal I had from holding onto her was beginning to shrink into nothing. "Looks like the diaper's doing its job, you're getting smaller down there--and wetter." She kissed me. "Isn't it better this way?" I hesitated. "I guess. It is nice having you care for me." "That's the spirit, you're doing great so far." She revealed a clean diaper for me from inside her purse and got busy slowly unfolding it, getting it ready for my behind. Being about eye level with her upper chest, I was drawn to look at her breasts and lower belly for a moment. Instinctively, I reached over and held just above her hips, petting her gently with my thumbs. I felt very aroused by her, but I was unable to show it. These diapers were doing something funny to me. "Why would they make diapers that get rid of--" "It makes you less likely to leak, dear." She began to position the diaper around me, and I was relieved that she did--she didn't have to see the small accident that was trickling out as she fastened my tabs snugly. "They don't do anything else funny like that, do they?" "They do make you calmer. It's to make you easier to care for, of course." She poked me on the nose and pulled me in for a hug. "Want me to get you something for lunch at the food court?" "Please." I blurted out, along with another spurt into my diaper. I was about to unlock the bathroom door when she grabbed my hands. "Let's get your shorts back on first," she said. I watched as she did up the button, hiding most of my diaper below the waistband, but not all of it. She positioned my shirt over top to cover the rest. "There, now we're all set."

Eileen loves that Cam's moved in with her. It means he can cook for her, while wearing her panties... or maybe nothing at all. Read and hear the rest of the story at https://www.patreon.com/makoallen Kiss The Cook Trailer