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Rei Takagai was a small 15 year old who stopped growing at the age of 3 due a genetic condition she was born with giving her appearance of a toddler instead of an actual teenager. Rain was now pouring down heavily and the poor girl was now starting getting wet and was desperately trying to find shelter “There…” spotting to what looked like a rundown mansion

Chapter One Lucas stirred in his sleep as the vague shapes and colours of the room began to form in front of him. His body felt weak and heavy, and his thoughts were cloudy. He mumbled to himself, trying to form words. Something heavy covered his body - warm and soft, he soon realised it was a blanket. He had guessed it must be a mattress underneath him - one of the most comfortable mattresses he had ever slept on. Despite his grogginess, he could tell he was uninjured, and seemed to be somewhere safe. He rubbed his eyes and groaned, a bit louder and more full-throated this time, signifying his waking. “Oh my… Lucas?” He heard a voice from above him. He turned to it, startled, and saw a face staring back. A woman, probably in her mid to late 30’s, whose concern shone through her eyes as they gazed down. Though his vision was quickly returning, Lucas couldn’t trust what he saw just yet. He was sure he had to be seeing things - looking up, this woman appeared to be large. Very large, in fact - the perspective didn’t make sense to him. In any case, he didn’t recognise her, or this place, and didn’t know how she would know his name. When he didn’t answer, the woman reached her hand out and gently caressed the side of his cheek with her finger. He jolted to full alertness - the feeling of her finger against his face felt incredibly real. But again, the finger was enormous - her hand would certainly have been big enough to cover his entire face. This woman seemed to be a giant, and he did not seem to be dreaming as was his first instinct. “Wh-what the…” he gasped as he shifted away from the hand, his body still difficult to move. He felt a stiffness in his muscles, beyond the usual fatigue he would have after waking up, and what’s more, he noted that whatever clothing he had on was somewhat restrictive. Its unusual material made it difficult to move with speed. He thought to check, but given the weight of the blanket on top of him, he couldn’t do much about it. He was more concerned with the woman, anyway, whose face was now showing signs of simultaneous surprise and relief, a warmth emanating from her expression. “Oh dear, it’s alright. You’re safe here, really. You’re safe…” “What’s… what’s happening? Am I dreaming?” His eyes were transfixed on the woman, her enormous height, and what she was wearing - an elegant maid’s uniform, with a white headdress and neatly fitted black button-up blouse. “You’re not dreaming, dear. Not now, anyway. My name is Miss Hazel, and you are safe with me. I promise. How are you feeling?” Her words seemed sincere, and her demeanour certainly backed that up. She had a calming presence, a warm tone and deep, brown eyes which invited Lucas to stare into them - not least because of their size. She brushed her brown hair from her face and smiled. “I’m… I feel weak… it’s hard to move.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, the doctor said that would be the case. It should subside soon. Rest assured, you are healthy as can be, blessings.” “D-doctor? What doctor? I don’t… I don’t remember much…” Lucas began rubbing his head, tossing his messy blonde hair. “That will subside too. I can explain everything. Come…” Hazel then lowered something, a wooden frame at the side of the large bed, one which Lucas immediately wondered how he hadn’t noticed already. It was a set of pale wooden bars which lowered down, allowing Hazel to reach over to him more easily. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a cr- Whoosh! The blanket was pulled away from Lucas, and a cold sweep of air sent a shiver across his body. He was wearing a plain purple t-shirt, and his legs were exposed too. When the sudden shock of the chills passed, he looked down and took a few moments to process what he saw. Between his legs, in place of normal underwear, he saw a heavy, thick mass of plastic wrapped around his waist. Though mostly white, it bore a large printed design of some kind. Though he couldn’t get a good look at it, it was clearly some kind of pink cartoonish image. As his legs shuffled in the cold, the garment crinkled loudly with the sound of plastic ruffling. There was no doubt about either of his realisations - he was sleeping in a giant crib, and wearing a diaper. “Wait, what?! What is this?” He stared incredulously at the diaper, his arms not strong enough to tear it off, though he certainly wanted to. Instead of an answer, he was greeted by Hazel’s two large hands, which tucked under his arms and promptly lifted him high into the air with seemingly no effort. He was disoriented by the sudden movement, his head still a bit dizzy. “I know, I know. I’ll explain everything here, don’t you worry.” They began moving across the room, where Hazel sat into a rocking chair not far from the crib. She placed him sitting on her lap - as a giant, her lap was easily large enough for him to sit on without bending his legs and be comfortable. He looked to a side table and saw a cup of tea and a downturned book, halfway finished. It seemed Hazel had been sitting her for some time when he slept. “Now Lucas, we’ll just go through things slowly, okay?” “How do you know my name?” “We looked at your identification when we found you. I didn’t mean to unnerve you.” “Found me?” Hazel paused and her eyes wandered a bit, clearly in thought. She was searching for where to begin. “Lucas… do you remember ever hearing about the dimension of the Amazons?” With that word, things began falling into place for Lucas, though the realisation was horrifying and he tried not to think about it too much beyond answering her immediate question. “Y-yeah… though I never looked into it too much.” She nodded. “Lucas, there isn’t any easy way to tell you this, but you seem to have had a run-in with a portal - I believe the experts called it a ‘spontaneous spacial fissure’. They open randomly and close just as quick.” “Wait, yes - I remember… I remember seeing a flash of light… I was riding my bike home from work, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything, and my skin felt tingly, and then…” Hazel began rubbing Lucas’ back gently. “It’s alright, dear. That must have been so scary. But you’re safe now, I promise.” Lucas nodded. She seemed to be able to tell he was about to start panicking. He still was on the inside, but her kind words helped stave off the worst of it. The silence prompted her to continue. “Two days ago, we found you unconscious in the garden. We immediately recognised you as a Little - that’s what we Amazons call people from your dimension. We called specialists who gave you a medical check up. Like I said, you’re perfectly healthy, but you’ll feel some after effects of the portal for a few days. We took you in and I’ve been keeping an eye for when you wake up.” “So… why am I wearing… is this what I think it is?” He didn’t gesture, but she knew what he meant right away. “Yes, it was necessary to give you some… protection. You see, Lucas… there’s some difficult things I have to tell you. Portals, from what I understand, are random events - they open and close too sporadically to be predicted. What that means is that you can’t go back to your dimension. You must stay here.” The words fell on him like a ton of bricks. It’s difficult to process the feeling of losing your entire life all in one moment. He began racing through what it really meant - all the people he wouldn’t see again, the places, his job, his apartment - and even more concerning was the realisation that, at least from his perspective, he didn’t think he would actually be missed by anyone at home. “Lucas? Darling?” She shook him gently from his stupor. He looked up at her, eyes pleading for this to be some kind of dream. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Now, the way things work here… well, when Littles come to our world, it’s necessary for a number of reasons to take care of them the same way you would a baby. It’s all to do with the way your body adjusts to the new dimension, as well as the… stronger parental instincts of Amazons. I wish it wasn’t the case, but that diaper is for your own good.” “I can never go back…” “In fact, for your own protection, you’ve already been legally adopted. It’s so you can be properly cared for. It’s for your own good, honey.” Her words were dripping with warmth and clearly intended to comfort, though she knew there was no way to fully soften this news. “Adopted?!” He shuffled in her lap in a feeble attempt to escape it, quickly stopped by her grasp which turned from gentle to stifling. “You’re going to just… keep me?” “Well, not me, per se. Officially you’ve been adopted by their Highnesses.” “High… huh?” “Oh my, yes. How silly of me. Here.” With that, Hazel picked Lucas up from her lap and rose once more, walking across the room to the window, which she pointed Lucas towards so he may look out of it. What he saw was the sprawling field of an estate, encircled by high walls with flower gardens and a hedge maze dotting the lawn. Beyond the wall was a town with tall buildings. In the foreground, just outside the window he saw old stone walls and towers, pristinely carved and kept but clearly quite old. He was in a castle, and a large one at that. “Just there, outside the hedge maze, that’s where we found you two days ago. You arrived in a flash of light and we took you inside. As you were a new arrival, the protocol would have been to hand you over to the Adoption Services, but Queen Charlotte took a quick liking to you. She had been considering adopting for a while, so she thought of your arrival as a happy accident.” “This is insane… don’t I get a say in this? You can’t just adopt me and treat me like a baby without my permission!” She turned Lucas back around to face her, propping her up in her arm and looking at him with deep sympathy. “I’m sorry, Lucas… I know this is a lot to take in, and I wish it was different, but this is how things are here. And… er, well… there is one more unfortunate thing I have to tell you…” “Hazel? Who are you talking to?” Hazel and Lucas swung their heads to the doorway, through which a figure came walking into the room. She was a woman in her 40’s or 50’s, with long, elegant blonde hair and a beautiful ornate gown in light blue. She was dressed immaculately, and immediately in Lucas’ mind it seemed obvious that this was the ‘Queen Charlotte’ he’d heard of. As soon as she laid eyes on Lucas, they lit up with joy. “Oh heavens! You’re awake! Hazel, you didn’t call me?” “Oh, your highness, I was just, erm, explaining the situation…” Charlotte came over, her heels loud even against the carpeting of the room, with joy on her face and her hands outstretched. She quickly took Lucas from her and held him in front of her face, to get a good look at him. He was none too happy about being passed around so casually, and even though he wasn’t keen on anyone in this room right now, he did feel a bit unnerved being away from Hazel and her soothing nature. “Hello there my darling! It’s so wonderful to see you. How is my new baby girl feeling?” Lucas paused. Had he heard right? Was his mind still playing tricks on him? He spoke up to make sure. “Uh… I’m not….” Hazel interrupted and spoke with a grand tone, clearly rehearsed though with a touch of hesitance in her voice as she looked at Lucas. “Y-yes, your highness, allow me to present for the first time, in her official debut to the royal family of Avalir… Princess Lucille.” “W-what?!”

Heya everyone. If you remember me, I have done some DD type of stories and am working on a new one. I'm still working on my previous one called A job offer unlike any other but I needed some motivation to keep writing, so I started this one. It's kinda slow paced to start. And it's a story I've been meaning to write for some time. It's inspired by such stories such as the promise by xlophone and am using such creative ideas (with permission) from BabySofia If you enjoy it, please let me know Hopefully this will turn out as good as my previous DD stories. ^^ Entering The Lion's Den Chapter 1 Chloe looked at her watch and saw that it was about nine in the morning. It gave her a moment to reflect as she tried to make sense of everything that had led into her current situation. Right now she was sitting in a large waiting room that looked eerily similar to one that you would see in a doctor's office. She decided to go over a pamphlet that she had in her pocket, while also reviewing the paperwork she was given after she agreed to go along with this farce or what the pamphlet called…A once in a lifetime adventure! A resort unlike any other! “At least I’m not alone, so this doesn’t feel entirely too creepy. Does everyone else here seriously feel perfectly fine going on this god forsaken tour trip as well?” Chloe looked around the waiting area and noticed that there were around two dozen other individuals in the same room. She assumed that all of them were also going on the same trip as she was. In less than fifteen minutes they would all be taking their first steps toward this unique resort that is located in the middle of nowhere. Chloe noticed that most of the other tourists that came along were either in groups of two, four or even five. Most of them consisted of families and or couples. Chloe did notice that she was the only one going solo and because of that very fact, it made her feel a bit apprehensive and that she didn’t have someone watching her back. She never considered bringing any of her close friends along since she didn’t think much of this tour group, but now she was kind of regretting it. Chloe had to keep reminding herself that she was not going on this vacation tour for everyday sightseeing, she had a more important objective at hand. “Tanya…I really do hope that you are still at this resort, sightseeing or whatever the hell you do with your friends. Last thing I want to find out is that there is something sinister going on and you are actualy in deep shit.” Chloe took out her phone as she reviewed the most recent text message she had received from her younger sister around a month ago. “Heya sis! Long time no chat! Hopefully you have been doing well at that community college of yours. I thought about doing that myself but in the end, it just doesn’t jive with my tastes. I already had enough boring education for the past 12 years and am just burnt out from all of it. Anyhow, I’m sure that our parents have already told you that I’ve been constantly traveling around the globe since graduation and it’s all thanks to our very humble and wealthy uncle. Mom and dad were completely against any form of traveling after I turned eighteen. Unfortunately for them, I’m no longer bound by their rules since I decided to move in with my two best buddies. I know that they meant well but as lively young adults, we need to discover ourselves before venturing into the soul crushing reality that is the full-time work force. I don’t know how you can manage a nine to five job while studying for major tests at the same freaking time! It sounds like a fate worse than death! Anyhow I want to get back on to the subject that I really wanted to talk to you about and that is regarding a very special tour group I found out about not too long ago. It's called Diamond Tours. I’ve heard rumors that it’s unlike anything most people will ever experience in their short, uninspiring lives! I would like to tell you more about it since I’m already at their main building and all prepped to go! But…Due to the legal documents me and my friends had to sign, we are required to stay all hush hush about certain things regarding this resort, otherwise we could face some serious jail time and big ass fines that could even bankrupt a millionaire! … I’m well aware that we have grown rather distant since when we first started High school and it hasn’t gotten much better after we both graduated. I know as well that this is my first text message to you in over three months, so this may sound a bit off putting…But I really want to rebuild the relationship we had, just like when we were little kids with no worries in the world! We had so much fun together and I want to rekindle that very experience! I realize that I’ve been somewhat of a bitch to you and our parents for the past couple of years and have no excuse for my behavior, but starting now, I’m going to become a much more open minded person and I’m sure this resort will help with just that! For far too long, I have felt lost with my purpose in life as I continue to grow older and become more aware of how disappointing society actually is.The fast paced environment is not healthy for either of us. So after doing some much needed soul searching in the past year, I believe that I may have found my true calling! I’ll gladly tell you more, but I’ll only do so if you come in person and visit this resort! That’s all I ask! Unfortunately this will be my last last text message to you for a while. Apparently the special place that I’ll be visiting will not be supporting any type of cell coverage, not that it matters since electronics are not allowed on the tour, so don’t bother trying to call or text me. I’ve also informed our folks about my upcoming trip. They surprisingly approve of it, but only if I come back and continue to live with them after my vacation is over. I won’t make any promises but I’ll at least think about it… I’ll be at this resort for only two weeks, so I will have plenty of time to chill and unwind! Anyhow, I hope you can find the time to visit while I’m still here with my friends. Later sis!” When Chloe first received the text message a month ago, she didn’t think much of it and simply brushed it off. She was too busy with college to get emotionally invested in her immature younger sister. She remembered Tanya being very quiet and quite distant back when they were in high school together. She still loved her sister but the days of playing make believe games and going to the playground were all in the past. Chloe wanted to pave a way for her future and possible career in criminal justice. “I bet you are having the time of your life at this strange resort… I know mom and dad are worried about you since you haven’t responded in over two weeks, but you're an adult now and they should recognize that as a fact.” Chloe however did have some slight concerns regarding Diamond Tours as she continued to research the company itself. “Even though this company on the surface is legit, there are some things that don’t feel right. Most tourist companies would explain more in detail about this special resort and where exactly it’s located. They only say it’s an island that cannot be accessed through any normal means of transportation. And According to this brochure, it's outside the jurisdiction of any first world country. That doesn’t make any damn sense!” Chloe felt frustrated as she continued to look over the pamphlet and ticket she received from a representative of Diamond Tours after arriving at their headquarters, as she prepared to visit this mysterious location. Around a week ago, Chloe visited her folks and found out that her younger sister Tanya, had not returned from her vacation since it was only supposed to last for two weeks. Chloe didn’t think it was worth escalating , but her parents were considering calling the authorities if they continued to get no response from their youngest child. Chloe decided to put their minds at ease and personally look into herself. Chloe knew that her sister had desired very much to move away from the family as soon as she graduated and was certainly vocal about it. She also assumed that Tanya took another trip to some exotic location, perhaps in Hawaii or even the Bahamas after having her fun with DiamondTours. Though after she spoke with her uncle, she was somewhat surprised that he had not heard from Tanya as well, since she wouldn’t be able to travel without his financial assistance. Chloe then decided to look more into Diamond Tours and see if she was on an extended stay. Unfortunately she was not permitted any personal information on the tour guests, though she was told that any guest had the option to extend their trip duration up to three months. It made Chloe assume that her sister was still at this resort having the time of her life. She then decided that paying her a visit would be a reasonable decision, since that is also what Tanya wanted, based on her final text message. Chloe then went on Diamond Tours website to check on the booking and other miscellaneous information that could be of further help. And to be on the safe side, she even went on google to check out some independent reviews on the company before buying herself a ticket. “As I remembered, there are some positive reviews about this company on google, but this company isn’t exactly widely known compared to some of the other major travel agencies. Surprisingly it has some connections with many government agencies around the world. I guess that makes sense from a business perspective after reading about its history on their main website.” Chloe kept looking over her phone as she continued to read about the feedback of some of the tourists that personally came back from this resort. One thing that Chloe found weird was that almost all the reviews had one thing that was the same, they were all very vague on the resort itself. Though there was some interesting information about the natives that lived there and that they are called amazonians. Apparently they are all very tall and built much different from the average individual. Chloe thought it was slightly interesting but also overblown since the information was scarce. In the end, she was mostly interested in the resort itself because that is where she would find her sister. “Even though I’m going alone, I’ll still be with everyone in this tour group, so I should be fine…I think.” Chloe bought a ticket that would allow her to stay for only one week. She had no interest in staying any longer than that. She assumed that would be more than enough time to find her sister and settle all the drama surrounding her. “This will also be a good chance to brush up on my detective skills. I’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone!” Chloe grinned as she tried to think about the positives of this short vacation she was about to go on. Ever since she was a child, Chloe always enjoyed movies and books that were primarily based about detectives. The mystery and suspense was always a fascination for her and she did find this to be a good opportunity to play a pseudo detective, even though she lacked any real world credentials. “I’m probably overthinking all of this. In the end, this trip will likely prove to be uneventful and I’ll end up finding my sister acting like a complete ass and realize that her text message was taken out of context.” Chloe then decided to look over the ticket she purchased that was essential for her upcoming trip. “Bronze tier, huh? Besides the cheap price, it’s not all that different in perks from the silver or even gold tier. Only the Diamond tier seems to have any noticeable difference for added luxury. And that can only be attained if you actually work for Diamond Tours or are working for an affiliate.” Chloe bought the ticket easily enough on their main website when she was at her parents home. She had expected it to be some ridiculous price that would cost in the area over a thousand dollars but it turned out that it was only around a hundred in total. It also included luggage and some other expenses such as hotel stay and amenities for food and souvenirs. Chloe thought it was too good to be true but after speaking with a representative over the phone, it turned out to be all legit. Though as soon as she arrived at Diamond Tours main building, she was required to sign over a dozen documents, some of which seemed questionable from a legal standpoint. Chloe felt like she was signing up for an auto loan based on the amount of paperwork she was given. “According to the representative on the phone, I can only obtain information on my sister’s whereabouts through the hotel that I’ll be staying at. And after I arrive, I would need to fill out a form with the hotel manager to get full approval!… What a fucking pain, at least I’ll be able to get some answers. I swear if I find Tanya and she’s just goofing off, I’ll smack her so hard in the head for making me go through all this ridiculous trouble! Chloe knew that it was almost time for the tour group's departure. She was genuinely curious about the method of transportation. She assumed that a plane would be the most obvious answer since the location of the resort was obviously not in the same city or state she was in. “It can’t hurt to have a chat with one of the guys that is also going along with this tour group. Perhaps they will know something that I don’t.” Before Chloe could get up from her chair and talk to one of the guests in the waiting area, another individual walked through the front double door that she had originally come through. Chloe noticed that she was breathing heavily and seemed slightly flushed in the face. The woman looked to be in her mid twenties and was wearing a business suit with a skirt and pair of reading glasses. The unknown woman then casually walked towards the front desk and pulled out some papers from her purse. Chloe decided to hold off and keep her attention on the woman that just arrived before talking to some of the other people in the tour group. “She’s dressed way too elegantly to simply be a tourist like the rest of us average joe’s. I wonder if she works for Diamond Tours? That would be a huge win, though I shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.” Chloe continued to keep an eye on the woman as she watched her finish filling out some paperwork at the reception desk and then handing it over to the representative that was across from her. Soon after, the unknown woman turned her gaze to all the tourists before looking for a seat to relax in. Chloe quickly turned her attention back to her phone as she didn’t want to be seen as a creep that was constantly monitoring her. “THANK GOODNESS! I WAS ALMOST LATE!” The unknown business lady took a seat right next to Chloe as she sighed in relief. “Last thing I need is to have a blemish on my record before heading to that god forsaken dimension. Fuck using public transportation next time!” The unknown lady glanced over at Chloe as she wiped her forehead of some sweat before deciding to speak up. “So, I assume that you are here for the upcoming tour, correct?” The unknown lady asked as she looked at Chloe with interest. “...Ya, I’m guessing that you are as well?” Chloe asked as she pretended to play ignorant. “ Kind of. It’s part of my job. It pays well but I always need to be on my A game, otherwise I could find myself with a slightly more… Juvenile job.” Chloe didn’t really understand what the slightly older woman had meant but it did give her the opportunity to see if she actually worked for Diamond Tours. It would be her best chance to get some answers before heading to the resort in question. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you…By any chance work for Diamond Tours? If so, I have so many questions for you!” Chloe couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as she spoke up, as it was almost time for everyone to depart. “Sorry, I’m actually employed by another company called Onyx Logistics. Though we are an affiliated partner with Diamond Tours.” Chloe immediately lowered her head, slightly disappointed by what she heard. When she first arrived, she tried asking the receptionist some questions about the tour, unfortunately she was only given the same basic information that was also listed on the brochure. “My name is Claire, and yours is…” Claire could see the look of disappointment in Chloe’s eyes. While she wasn’t sure as to why, she was interested in knowing what was on her mind. “Chloe Kennedy…” Chloe sighed as she casually shook hands with the slightly older woman, not wanting to appear as rude. “You seem kind of distracted…Are you… By any chance going on this tour group all by yourself? No friends, no family!?” Claire asked with a hint of concern. “Yes…It’s just for a week. I could have gone on this tour group at a much sooner date, but the only slot that Diamond Tours had available was for a trip that would last for three weeks straight andI didn’t feel comfortable staying at this unknown resort for so long. So I took the next best option, which is the single week slot they had available. And that’s why I am here.” “Jesus… That’s…”Claire placed her hand onto her mouth before she could say anything she would end up regretting. Chloe noticed the odd behavior coming from Claire and it made her even more curious, though she continued to remain formal and not show her intrigue. “So Claire, what type of work do you do that is associated with Diamond Tours?” Chloe didn’t want to seem pushy but she really wanted to get a bigger picture of what this so-called adventure of a lifetime was all about. Even if she didn’t work for Diamond Tours, she still felt like she would be able to gain something from someone that worked for an affiliated company. “Before I answer your question Chloe, can you please tell me what your tier, your ticket level is?” Claire blatantly ignored Chloe’s question and awaited for a response. Tier? Oh ya, the ticket I purchased… It’s the bronze level. It was obviously the cheapest one available. I checked the difference between this and the silver tier and I was kinda surprised that there wasn’t anything all that different compared to the more expensive options with the gold tier as well.” Chloe looked kind of confused and concerned by Claire’s question. “I knew it. Yet another one that will most likely end up in a padded prison.” Claire said silently to herself, Chloe didn’t catch anything she had said, but knew that it wasn’t exactly good based on her expression alone. “You okay? You seem a bit… Agitated” Chloe asked as she tried to understand what Claire was thinking inside her head. “Ya…I’m fine…If you don’t mind me asking Chloe, just how old are you?” Claire asked as she knew that Chloe appeared quite youthful but still looked old enough to be on her own. “I’m Nineteen, why do you ask?” Chloe continued to feel a bit unease at the unusual set of questions. “Nineteen. So young and with so much life ahead of you… Chloe, what exactly brought you here? While Diamond Tours is a reputable company, it only focuses on one singular destination unlike many of the other highly renown tour companies. Why are you not going to the beaches in Florida or visiting the entertaining sights of New York? That’s something I would have done at your age.`` Claire asked as she adjusted her glasses and then pulled out a flask and took a sip of the liquid inside it. Chloe could easily tell that she was drinking some form of hard liquor and that Claire didn’t care whatsoever if she was doing it while working. “ Trust me, I didn’t exactly choose this tour group because it caught my interests. I’m here for an entirely different reason.” Chloe stated. “Really!? What exactly is your purpose for being here today?” Claire asked after putting her flask away and wiping some of the vodka from her lips. “I’m looking for my little sister. And when I mean little, she is only a year younger than me. After she graduated from High School, she immediately decided to travel around the globe for the next half year, even though our parents didn’t approve of it. Luckily for her, she had some strong connections with our uncle, so she was financially capable of going on such lavish trips by herself or with her friends.” “And how did you come to find out that your sister had been using Diamond Tours?” Claire asked with interest. “I’ve been rather distant with my sister Tanya, especially after she graduated. Then around a month ago, out of nowhere, she decided to text me. She wanted to reconnect since we had been growing distant over the past few years and she personally requested that I come in person to meet with her at this resort. Honestly I don’t know what to think of it.” “Heh, that resort…Not exactly the ideal place for a reunion in my opinion.” Claire said silently to herself. “So you decided to hop on board with Diamond Tours, based on that text alone?” Claire asked. “Not just that, my parents were very worried about her well-being since they haven’t heard a word from her in the past month. They eventually asked if I could help in any way before they escalated the situation to the authorities. It didn’t hurt to try my hand and look into this with my own time and research. I’ll admit I was kinda interested in getting to know more about this company that my sister was so intrigued by and see if it was actually legit. Thankfully it turned out to be a reputable company after much research. ButI still can’t get over the feeling that something is a bit off about it. While the brochure gave plenty of information as to what this tour provides, it is still vague on certain key things about the location in question. Also I don’t understand the verbiage about the natives called amazons. The brochure makes it seem like they are people that are on a completely different level from us.” Chloe replied. “They are but for legal reasons I cannot go into detail. One thing that I can tell you is that I actually work with a few of them on the other side but it’s not on a constant basis.” Chloe wasn’t sure what Claire meant by the other side but continued to listen in. “Diamond Tours has done a great job at its marketing over the years. The company has been around the block long enough to know how to get people intrigued by what it’s offering. Most tourists that take part in this resort are usually the ones that love to travel and sightsee. Though occasionally, certain individuals such as yourself will come along for the ride based on curiosity or something else completely unrelated. This isn’t my first rodeo to New Haven, the so-called exotic location that we will be visiting. It’s part of my job after all.” Claire explained. “Even though you don’t work for Diamond Tours, what do you think of my chances of finding my sister there? I read that some of the tour programs can last up to three months, so I assuming that she was still at the resort, doing whatever she pleases while our parents continue to freak out over the worst. I also feel a bit uneasy about there being no cell coverage at the resort. How will I be able to stay in contact with my friends and family?” Chloe asked. “Regarding your first question…I would never recommend looking for her if you are not with your tour guide, otherwise you will most likely…” Claire stopped speaking for a moment as she looked down at the floor, taking a deep breath and then opening her flask to take another swig. “What exactly happens if a tourist goes out all alone in the city? Does it have something to do with the documents we all had to sign? Especially the ones where if we were to get lost from our guide then the company is no longer responsible for our well-being? There is something definitely wrong with that!” “In most aspects…Yes that is correct.” Claire looked back up at Chloe who appeared to be a bit more on edge after hearing her reply. “I can understand to a certain degree as to why they have us sign contracts to avoid any frivolous lawsuits but it’s seriously weird that they would not claim any responsibility if we simply get lost from our guide. That doesn’t make any sense unless the resort is filled with alot of major creeps. Also are the laws really all that different at this resort compared to most first world countries?” “Yes, and according to the regulations of Diamond Tours, if you get lost from your tour guide and are not in the confines of the hotel, you can face the full discipline of New Haven’s laws if you are not careful. The only solution is to stay with your guide at all times when outside of the hotel. Once you are inside the hotel, you will be safe to roam around… For the most part…. “ Claire tried to laugh it off, while Chloe still looked mildly concerned. “I’m guessing that you can’t tell me the specifics on that as well?” Chloe asked. “I can, but only after we arrive. It’s all for legal purposes.” Claire explained. “Legal purposes… Now I understand why they wanted me to sign my name on so many goddamn pieces of paper. It’s just a resort, it’s not like I’m signing my life away!” Claire slightly chuckled to herself as Chloe spoke out in frustration. She knew what happened to tourists that didn't follow the tour's standard guidelines, but she couldn’t say a word, otherwise it could end up costing her as well if she was found out. “It’s frustrating, no doubt. Now as for your second question, not only will you be unable to receive any bars on your cell, but you will have to hand over all your mobile devices to Diamond Tours staff. They will be given back to you once you reach your designated room at the hotel. You are aware of that, right?” Claire asked “Ya I read the minor details on the paperwork. Apparently it’s also for security purposes. To be honest, that sounds like a load of bullshit. As tourists, we would mainly be using our mobile devices to take pictures and videos! What the hell type of vacation resort doesn’t allow you to use any electronics, that’s so stupid!” Claire knew that Chloe had a point, but it was one of the key aspects to how Diamond Tours can keep control and make sure that the guests stay in line.” “As the brochure explained, this tourist vacation is supposed to be unlike any other and that is why everything is kept classified. All for the sake of the laws and regulations of the resort.” “Speaking of which, are we going to be meeting with these native amazonian people and talking and interacting with them?” Chloe asked. Yes, that is correct. Some of them will be working at the hotel that you will be staying at. You shouldn’t have much of an issue with the Amazon employees at the hotel. Though, as a word of warning, do not under any circumstance try to back-talk or start up an argument with them. It’s a lose-lose situation. It’s also important while you are with your tour group. Do not allow yourself to get distracted by any of the natives as they may try to converse with you. You will want to Ignore them because of your obligation to stay with your guide at all times. Amazonians are not your friends and most of them, especially their females are…Complicated.” Claire began to bite her lip and Chloe could see that Claire was holding herself back, obviously she knew more than what she was laying on. Chloe did understand that Claire could find herself in some serious legal trouble if she were to relay any classified information to a first time tourist. “Listen…If you're really going to fully commit to this…Trip…Allow me to upgrade your ticket from the bronze tier to the silver tier.” Claire asked as she extended her hand. “Seriously!? Why would you go so far for a complete stranger that you just met?” Chloe felt a bit more paranoid by the unusual generosity of Claire. Chloe was taught by her parents that nothing was free in the world and if you are given something, always expect there to be a catch. “Let’s just say…I have met someone similar to your situation a long time ago and I kinda feel obligated to help. Also, in case you feel a bit uneasy about my offer, I just want to let you know that upgrading your ticket from bronze to silver doesn't personally cost me anything extra. Consider it a bonus perk for my line of work.” Claire responded with a wink. “I guess so…So as long as there is nothing else I have to sign. There is no way in hell I’m going to put my signature on any more papers. I already feel like I signed up for some sort of ridiculous loan. School already has me in chains due to my student loans!” Chloe handed Claire her ticket and watched as the woman walked up to the front desk and began to speak to the receptionist. Chloe couldn’t hear what they were talking about but even so, she didn’t keep her eyes off the two. She felt like Claire could be trusted but she still needed to keep her guard up. “More lavish meals and souvenirs…If it’s free, I don’t see a reason to complain.” Chloe knew that the difference between the bronze and silver tier tickets were miniscule and didn’t personally affect the tour itself. All guests would be grouped together as they visited the many sights and wonders that surrounded the resort they would be staying at. The only drawback from purchasing a higher tier was obviously the price. Chloe noticed that it was cheaper if you were a returning customer but that was something she had no intention of becoming. She did feel a bit of satisfaction that she was about to receive an upgrade with no hidden strings attached. It still didn’t change the fact that she had other questions about this resort. And she intended to ask Claire more about the resort when they finally arrived. “Isn’t that nice of you. Helping that poor lonesome girl. I still don’t think it will matter in the end. She will most likely… The Diamond Tour receptionist was cut off by Claire as she began to speak up. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Just hurry up and upgrade the ticket already.” Claire didn’t want to hear the outcome that plagued many previous tourists. She knew that Diamond Tours had a quota to meet. But she wanted to make sure that Chloe was not going to be a victim of it. Claire knew from her prior experience about the difference in the tiers that are given to the tourists that visit this resort and most importantly, the hidden truth behind it. Becoming a permanent resident was something that she had always avoided when she was tasked by her job when visiting the resort. She had seen first hand what can happen to a tourist if they don’t follow the rules of the guide. And while she did have some leverage because of her job with Onyx logistics, it still didn’t keep her entirely safe from being a potential resident, especially from some of her larger co-workers on the other side. And while she didn’t personally mind helping Claire out, she wasn’t going to put herself in a position that could jeopardize her own well-being if the situation arises. After receiving the upgraded ticket , Claire casually walked back and handed it over to Chloe. The young girl cautiously looked over the ticket and saw that the upgrade was legit. She still couldn’t believe that she had received a free upgrade. She went ahead and shook Claire’s hands and thanked her for her kindness. “Thank you so much! I guess hospitality is still genuine in this day of age, hehe.” Chloe tried to make a joke of it, but Claire could only smile ever so slightly. She knew very well that Chloe had no idea of what she was actually getting herself into. She would have loved to explain more but due to the rules and regulations of the tour, she would have to wait until after they arrived at the resort. But even then that would bring on a new set of challenges. “No problem, I’m happy to help.” Claire replied with a half smile. Before the two of them could continue to converse, another woman appeared from a double door that was off limits to anyone except the employees.The majority of the tourists in the room turned their attention to the woman that stood in front of all of them. Based on her uniform, she was obviously an employee of Diamond Tours. “Thank you all for waiting. My name Lisa Bount, I will be acting as your facilitator until you reach the beautiful destination of New Haven , the amazonian resort where you will experience a wondrous utopia unlike any other!” Any questions and or complaints are always welcomed. I trust that everyone here is all prepared? For we will be leaving in just a moment, please remember to hand over any electronic devices to our staff in the next room over. They will be returned to you as soon as you reach the hotel.” Lisa spent a few minutes explaining some general questions to the tourists, but it wasn’t anything that Chloe had not figured out herself. She did have her own personal set of questions but most likely figured that this middle management employee would not be the one to answer her questions about her sister. Chloe was relieved that she met with Claire and this would bring her one step closer to finding her sister. “Looks like most of the tourists are first timers just like you.” Claire said as she looked over at Chloe. “Okay everyone, please follow me and also be sure to stay together!” The guests got up from their chairs as they followed Lisa into the next room. It was at that moment where they were required to hand over any of their mobile electronics. Chloe watched as they walked through a scanning machine that looked similar to something from an airport full body scanner. “So what type of plane will we be taking?” Chloe quietly asked Claire as they were among the last of the tour group to walk through into the next room over. “ It’s no plane. Just wait, you will soon understand. Once we are through the portal, you get a better idea of what you are getting yourself into.” Chloe looked confused as she stayed beside Claire’s side. She didn’t want to appear completely reliant on her, but for now needed to be cautious. “Portal...Did she really say portal!?” Chloe thought to herself as she continued onward. “No electronics which also means no communication. It makes sense as to why I haven’t been able to get a hold of Tanya, but still…” Chloe’s eyes began to widen up as she noticed something that didn’t seem real. In front of her, there was a bluish looking portal that nearly covered the floor to the ceiling. It was something out of a sci-fi movie. She watched as several tourists went through without any hesitation. There were also armed guards at each end of the portal. Obviously for the typical security purposes. “Wait! Is this seriously the method of transportation that we will be utilizing?” Chloe asked with amazement. “It is. This is technology that was created by the Amazonians. Soon enough, you will be meeting with them at the resort. Just don’t get too invested.” Claire explained with a smirk as she walked ahead of Chloe and was about to enter the portal. “Wait a minute! Are you sure this is safe!?” Chloe asked, feeling like she was about to be vaporized into dust. “Of course, if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here now, hehe.” Chloe still didn’t feel all that relieved by Claire’s half joking response. “You will be alright. Once you arrive in the other dimension, be sure to stay by my side until we get on the bus. If you get lost at any point, it’s going to turn into a much longer vacation for you.” Chloe didn’t understand what Claire had meant as she watched her walk through the portal as if it were second nature to her. “I just want to find my stupid annoying sister, not play a role in some weird sci-fi movie.” Chloe sighed as she awaited for her turn to go through. She wasn’t the type to be thrilled by random surprises, but she really didn’t have much of a choice. Chloe was fully committed to finding her sister and making sure that she was actually safe. “When you walk through, you will be reunited with all the other tour guests. An employee that also works with our company will be on the other side to greet you. She will also be your guide and her name is Victoria. Be sure to follow her every instruction and you will undoubtedly have a wonderful time at the resort.” Lisa explained to Chloe as she was about to enter the portal. “Just curious, what exactly happens if we don’t?” Chloe asked as she clenched her teeth together. Obviously feeling a bit nervous despite the reassurance from Claire. “You are more than welcome to find out. I would personally recommend it. Perhaps you will find more…Fulfillment if you choose to do so. I’m sure that many of the natives would love to know more about you.” Chloe was surprised by Lisa’s response. She wasn’t expecting such an answer from an employee of Diamond Tours. Chloe also didn't like the casual smile that she was giving her. “Tanya…What exactly have you gotten yourself into!” Chloe stated in her mind. The young brown haired girl walked up to the portal and took a deep breath. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained!” Chloe walked through the portal with only her clothes on and her upgraded silver tier ticket on her person. There was an odd warmth coming from the light that surrounded her as she walked through. As she continued onward, there was only one thought on her mind. “I feel like a rabbit that is about to enter a den filled with lions…”

Hey-lo, and welcome to my medieval fantasy (with dragons) version of an adult baby story: Drakevisions! Now, our dragons are quite different in this story (and it will be explained later on), but I wanted an exciting first chapter to start with. Now, there are numerous content warnings for this story. This is definitely under the realm of mature for a very good reason. In this chapter alone, there's implied war crimes, stated sexual assault (including one case of a teen) and implied abuse stemming from this, implied baby dragon killing, major violence (including blood and broken bones), and implied murder and mass murder, including that of baby dragons. Later on, we'll be delving into a few more of those themes plush brainwashing and gaslighting, transphobia, bullying, sexism, bigotry against small town people, war crimes, animal (dragon) cruelty, abuse of both humans and baby dragons, character death, implied intentions of genocide, and various other topics. I advise people to ONLY get into this if you're willing; I will never ask people to read this if they don't want to. Please remember: VIEWER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Thank you in advance! And now, for the first chapter of Drakevisions! - Chapter One: Visions of the Past - Ermendrud was nervous for her first day at her job for Queen Dominica, First of Her Name, Ruler of the Five Realms, The Beauty of the World. Well, technically, it wasn’t just the Queen that needed it; it was the entire city of Deofolmece and everyone in the Light Realm from the evil drakes in the Shadow Lands and the treacherous, loathsome Oathbreakers who led them. It was the job of the Immortals, the Queen’s famed major army, to protect the villages, but after the drakes had torn through Blodham, the second-largest city in the Light Realm, slaying all in their wake, it was almost becoming a necessity to find a weapon that could stop them. Not that it was easy, because even wounding a full-grown drake was considered almost impossible. No, Ermendrud wasn’t in the Immortals; only those big enough, strong enough, fast enough, and brave enough were capable - and she was none of those: only a girl of seven-and-ten, shy and gentle as a flower, and the Immortals did not allow women in their ranks, by order of the Queen. Her job was egg raising, drake egg raising, to be precise, along with many others who either intended to join the Immortals or make drake bloodletting a career. Drake blood had a potency that was unmatched. It was said to cure any sickness, no matter how much it spread, any wound, even mortal ones. It could even cure deformities in babies and children. And thus, even with how dangerous fully-grown drakes were, the eggs - and the little drakes inside of them - were immensely important. It was a blessing and a curse, then, that drakes were immortal…in a manner of speaking. Kill one, and its body would simply return to being an unbreakable - yes, unbreakable; swords, hammers, axes, spears, all of them would shatter on impact - egg, which then hatched it into a baby drake all over again in two years. Out of all five species of drakes, only the rare phoenixdrakes would ever remember any of their previous lives, sure, but it meant that nothing would ever put them down for good. And so Ermendrud was to harvest the blood of baby drakes, she pondered, as she walked over to the gatehouse where she was to sign up, all the way from her small village of Blaecham. She kept wondering if that was a good idea, to kill babies of any kind for blood, but drakes were cruel to humans, were they not? “Hey, Ermy! Are you listening?” “Are you ignoring us on purpose? I’m hurt, Ermy; I thought we were friends?” “Realm to Ermy, are you there?” Ermendrud turned to her three lifelong friends - all from the same village she was from, all seven-and-ten years of age, and all staring at her - startled out of her thoughts. There was Faramund, a six foot, five inch and somewhat heavyset man at nineteen stone exact with oily, caramel brown hair that was slicked back to the nape of his neck, a patchy beard with slight ginger hints on a face with a jutting jaw and high cheekbones, and cautious green eyes, his muscles showing from his short brown shirt and breeches. He was the smart and serious one, wise beyond his years, always the one with a solid plan to do things every day, stoic and always reliable, even with his analytical mindset. Second was Widogast, a tall and gangly man at six feet, five inches and fourteen-and-a-half stone, with shoulder-length strawberry blond hair, a thin mustache and the hints of a wispy goatee, and mischievous gray eyes on a rodent-like face, his long dyed blue shirt and brown breeches baggy on him. He was always ready with a joke that nobody else seemed to get, a constant grin on his face, always positive and willing to cheekily argue with the more dour Faramund, constantly keeping up their spirits. Finally, there was Wulfgifu, a woman taller than any of them and most grown men at six feet, seven inches weighing fourteen stone, with large breasts and hips showing through her long homespun brown dress, long and curly burnt-orange locks falling to the small of her back, and icy-blue eyes filled with surprising warmth on her chubby face. She was brash and bold, confident and dauntless almost to a fault, but stronger than any man she knew, despite being a woman, never to be bettered by any man. And yet, she was a very kind and nurturing woman as well. All stood there with bags carrying their meager possessions (it wasn’t that they were poor; they just didn’t have as much as the castle inhabitants did), seemingly waiting on her to pay attention. Ermendrud shuffled her bag on her shoulder nervously, her long auburn hair pinned into a bun, even though lengths of it still fell into her hazel eyes, shifting from the lightest brown to a brownish-green in the light, each with gold flecks. She was small for a woman at 5’1” and slightly heavier than seven stone. Her plain brown dress purposely hid her breasts, large for her size, even though her petite frame would do her no favors on the childbearing (partially why she wanted not to have children, along with not wanting the responsibility). She and her friends called themselves “The Four Routiers”, having known each other since early childhood. They protected each other (well, it was mostly her three friends protecting her, but she helped dress their wounds afterwards; she was slated to be a healer early on before the interest in drake-keepers grew and her profession was changed), they sang together, fought together, did everything together. And now they were becoming drake-keepers and moving to the castle together. The thought was a lot for her. “Well, um, I was just thinking about the drakes in question,” she answered, her thoughts on the potential hatchlings. “It just seems like a lot, you know? Coming from Blaecham all the way to Castle Tungol…who would’ve thought?” “Who would’ve thought it would be us?” Wulfgifu answered kindly. “Why shouldn’t it be us, Ermy? We’ve more than earned our way, learning how to read, even in our small hamlet, learning as much as we could. Isn’t this what it’s supposed to be?” “And it’ll be fun!” Widogast said eagerly. “I want to see what the drakes are like as well!” “You mean before we kill them?” Faramund finished. “That’s what they’ll be expecting. I don’t like it one bit, and neither does Ermy; I can tell.” “Fary dour, ever sour,” Widogast snarked before finishing in a dark tone, “There’ll probably be Immortals that do that. I never want to be one, even if they demand it. Not now, not ever.” “Never is right,” Faramund agreed with vehemence in his tone. “After the Sack of Wolcenham? After everything we’ve lost? Never.” “Even if I was a man, never,” Wulfgifu echoed, her voice raw with fury. “Never, ever, ever.” Ermendrud felt empathy towards all of her three friends, as they stood outside of the castle gatehouse, thinking about the Immortals. All of her friends’ fathers and mothers had died while in service as infantry to the Immortals against the drakes (which led to the law that no woman could join the Immortals after they had been killed by the drakes). Widogast had lost his older sister after she got into a fight with an Immortal when he was eight, and Faramund had lost his older brother during the sack. Killed in battle, was what he stated an Immortal said to him, but he knew that was a lie. As for Wulfgifu’s anger against the Immortals, all of her family, down to the newborn baby, had been butchered by what she believed were Immortals when she was a child, the only survivor of the attack. The Immortals said the murderers were bandits, but she never believed them. Meanwhile, Ermendrud was the product of a brutal rape by some horrible excuse of a man, her mother being younger than she was when it happened, having barely survived the birth, according to the midwife who had told the story to Ermendrud. Her mother always said she never wanted her, that she hated her child, that her eyes reminded her of her rapist every single time, to never come back after permanently kicking her out of the house when she was a child. Her gentle heart knew that her mother was just traumatized from what had happened, and others wiser than she had said her mother was far too young to properly care for her. She had no idea who her father was and never wanted to know, if that was the kind of “man” he was. The four had been mostly raised by a kindly friar by the name of Ealhstan (now Brother Ealhstan); a compassionate man who helped them along with the nuns of Blaecham, keeping them from the more unsavory orphanages and telling the four that they were a family and to hold onto those bonds for their days…and so they did. “HEY! Are you four just going to stand out there gawking?!” All four of them jumped when they heard the sound of a gruff woman, part of a group of three women who revealed themselves. The speaker was a bit taller than most women, willowy, clad in leather armor, a dagger at her hip. A scowl was on her freckled face. The other two women were also tall and more portly than the speaker, but clad in the same armor. Wulfgifu answered for all of them. “We’re supposed to be drake-keepers. This is where we sign up, right?” “Drake-keepers? You four? HAH!” The woman spat on the ground. “You and everyone in every small backwater town!” “We had letters that told us to sign-” “Nobody cares!” the speaking woman snarled. “Nobody cares about you fucking poor hicks!” “Who says we aren’t wealthy?” Widogast asked cheekily. “Your clothes, smartarse,” the woman growled. “Cheek me again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” Widogast gave a sneaky look at the woman before touching his right cheek, then his left, before he finally stuck his tongue out. “Fucking cocksucker!” The woman rushed at Widogast almost faster than Ermendrud could blink, her dagger drawn. One of them drew her own dagger, while the other had a sword, both rushing Faramund and Wulfgifu, obviously saving the smaller Ermendrud for last. Widogast dodged the initial knife swipe, landing a solid blow on the woman’s nose that broke it, leaving her gasping in anger. Ermendrud, seeing Wulfgifu holding the arms of the sword-bearing woman to prevent the two-handed sword from coming down, gave a quick kick to the woman’s leg with her heavy boot that sent her crumpling to the ground with a crack, howling in pain, before Wulfgifu knocked the woman out with a blow to the head. Faramund had disarmed the other dagger-wielding woman with a hard twist, breaking the woman’s wrists as she screamed, before kicking the dagger away from her. The willowy woman flipped the knife to her other hand, stabbing at Widogast, who merely sidestepped the attempt and landed a blow that knocked a few of her teeth out, leaving her stumbling before he finally disarmed her and held her arms behind her back. “You fucker!” she spat, blood pouring from her nose and mouth on the ground, trying to squirm out of the skinny teenager’s grip like a bucking horse. “All your hands will be mine for touching knights! And then I’ll have your tongues, and then your cocks and tits, too, you fucks!” “What do our cocks and breasts have to do with anything?” Widogast asked, rolling his eyes. “We don’t want to fuck you or nurse you; we just wanted to know where to sign up for the drake-keeper occupation.” “You fucking hicks will never get it! And I’ll still have your fucking hands, tongue, and cock!” “Really know only those words, don’t you?” Widogast said, rolling his eyes again before he nodded at Ermendrud, to which she quickly gathered the swords and daggers away from the three knights. “Listen, you dumbarses, you attacked us for no good reason,” Faramund said coldly, still holding the other woman’s arms behind her back. “We only wanted to know where to sign up, not deal with you idiots.” “What the Hell is going on? Who are you four?” Ermendrud noticed the people coming in with a sinking heart. More knights. Men this time, a score and a half of them, in full plate armor. Half of them had arrows notched on longbow strings aimed at them, ten of them had swords, while the other five were on horseback with spears. We’re so fucked… - Some of the names have been taken from Anglo-Saxon English. There's a whole list of words that I used for the towns and stuff, so keep that in mind. With that, I hope y'all enjoyed~

After reading a few nice stories here in the forum, I would like to contribute one of my own. I hope you enjoy the first part. And I hope I'll find time for the sequel soon. Feel free to write what you think about the story. My journey back to babyhood – Part 1 Susan had invited me to dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant. San Marco was a very popular restaurant in our town, known not only for its truffle pasta and fresh fish, but also for its overpriced menu. That was one reason why we only went there on special occasions. Upon arrival, we were led to a cozy round table with a purple bench. Susan asked for the drink menu and opened it. “I think I'll have a glass of Zinfandel. What about you, my little boy? I'm not sure if they serve warm milk here,” she said with a broad smile. It was a month ago when Susan found my special suitcase with some adult diapers in it. It wasn't entirely new to her that I had a slight incontinence problem and sometimes used pull-up pants or pads when we went out for a big night of drinking. After a certain amount of alcohol, I couldn't control my bladder as usual. We had talked about it a few times, and I had also told her that I liked the feel of the pants and that wearing them gave me some stress relief. Susan agreed to share a whole bottle of our favorite wine, Zinfandel, tonight instead of lukewarm milk. After she ordered, she put her hand between my legs and squeezed my padded bulge. “That feels pretty warm. Did you wet yourself already? Good thing we put this nice thick diaper on you.” I swallowed a little and confirmed that I had wet myself a little on the way to the restaurant. On the day Susan found out about the suitcase, I was very surprised when she showed me a fresh white diaper. Then she ordered me to strip naked, lie down on our bed, placed the diaper under my bottom, oiled my buttocks and testicles, and professionally fastened the diaper around me. It all happened so fast that I could hardly explain, complain, or resist. Susan was also surprised by my hard erection while she was oiling my lower body. Then she let me get up and touched and stroked my plastic-backed diaper. “That looks very secure. I didn't know they made such nice diapers for adults these days. Why didn't you show me this sooner? The plastic feels very comfortable, and judging by your hard-on, you really like being in it.” Susan made me wear the diapers all evening, and it felt great. I was only allowed to use the diaper until it was completely full. While we were preparing dinner—me wearing only a T-shirt and my diaper—Susan kept checking how thick the diaper had become, touching and hugging me and calling me “my little diaper boy.” During dinner, we talked about me wearing diapers and how she liked it, especially because it turned me on. Later that night, we had the best sex of our lives. And since that night, Susan has ordered me to wear diapers every time we're at home. We had just finished our first plate when the main course was served. Susan had a sea bass fillet and I had a “Café de Paris” fillet steak. “So, what's the occasion for the invitation tonight?” I asked as I took the first bite of my steak. “Oh, I have some really great news: I've been promoted. Next month, I'll be a senior executive at our company.” I was speechless. Susan had only been working at this new IT company for two years and had climbed all the rungs of the ladder in no time. And now she was going to be a senior executive. “That's really fantastic! I'm very proud of you,” I said and gave her a big hug. “There's only one hurdle we have to overcome: we have to move to Seattle, to my headquarters. But everything has already been arranged, and you'd be crazy to say no. The company has already found us a new house with a pool and garden and will double my salary!” Double her salary... that was crazy. Susan already earned much more than I did. It was almost insane. And with that thought in the back of my mind, I felt myself losing control and wetting myself profusely. It just ran out and filled the front and bottom of my diaper almost completely. This time, I put my hand between my legs to check if I had already wet my jeans as well. “Did you wet yourself again?” Susan asked. My face turned purple. “Yes, I couldn't control it. Maybe it was the wine again, or your good news.” Now Susan checked my bottom again. “Everything's fine, you're still dry. But I think you'll need a new diaper when we get home.” Neither of us had noticed that the waiter was standing behind us at that moment. I wasn't sure if he had heard us, but he smiled somewhat confusedly and asked if we needed anything else or if he could bring the check. … to be continued.

Anna and Ryan are living life as best they can when blackballed from society. Things take an unexpected turn when there is a knock at the door. --- I'm only able to write as much as I do thanks to the amazing support of my readers. Writing is my only income and I appreciate everyone who reads my stories more than you all can imagine. If you enjoy my stories and want to see updates a week before everyone else PLUS read 35+ stories only available on my membership sites please have a look at the links below. All support is very gratefully accepted ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- A quick recap of the first story for anyone who needs it: Anna was left stranded in Sallas after her parents were killed in a car crash. Sallas is a place of extreme misogyny, that treats women as little more than babies and servants. Anna was adopted to a Sallasian couple and forced to grow up in this society, but she has always hated it and is desperate to escape. Forcibly married to Ryan, Anna's future seemed decidedly unpleasant as she joined him at college, not to attend classes, but as his trophy wife. That all changed when Ryan revealed that he hates Sallas as much as she does, and that he doesn't want to treat her badly. They tried to navigate college together, living as equally as they could at home whilst subjected to the extreme pressures to conform. Anna meets a friend, Jane, who is in a much worse marriage than her. Anna desperately wants to help Jane, but her options are severely limited. When Jane's husband gets tired of her, he has her sent away to Finishing School, something which devastates Anna who knows she will never see her friend again. Eventually it proved too much. Ryan was forced to choose between sending Anna to "Finishing School" (little more than a torturous prison) or being expelled from college and giving up his dreams of working in business. Ryan chose Anna. The two left college together with little idea as to where their lives will go... --- Sallas 2: The Gilded Cage By Elfy Anna was strapped to a pink plastic chair. Between her lips was a pacifier so large it filled her mouth and a strap going around her head held it firmly in place. She had the thickest diaper she had ever seen around her waist and the pink baby dress did nothing to hide it. Around her were a dozen other women similarly stuck in place and similarly dressed. She struggled but found movement difficult with such a huge amount of thickness between her legs. The room was filled with the muffled sounds of struggle and the smell of used diapers. Anna recoiled when she looked around at her neighbours before realising, she looked just as bad as they did it. Projected on to a screen in front of them all was a video. It was like a business training video but was showing the women in the playpen what they were supposed to be. A film of women doing domestic chores, shopping and being properly respectful of the men around them, In between frames Anna occasionally noticed a flash of a word, but she could never quite make out what it said. Made to look like a nursery the room felt like a strange bastardisation of a place that you would send your child. This nursery looked exactly like a child’s daycare at first look, but the longer you spent in there the more you noticed its true reason to exist. The uniformed guards by the doors, the cameras in each corner of the room, the books not being classic nursery rhymes but instruction manuals on how to do chores… Anna pulled harder against the restraints. As she stared at the video playing in front of her, she tried to remember how long she had been there. It felt like forever. Time had lost all meaning. Maybe she had simply always been there. Anna’s head lulled forwards slightly but the endlessly repeating images continued to appear in her mind. She tried to force them away, but they had a hold of her, they seemed to grab her head like tentacles as they pulled themselves closer and spread like a cancer. Her resistance became weaker as the words flashing up in the film became clearer. “Baby.” “Maid.” “Useless.” “Need Man.” Inside her head the last vestiges of who she once had been screamed but like water rushing through a cracked dam the words spread. Anna felt herself losing control of her bladder as if she had never been potty trained. The warmth spreading through her padding as the words cycled endlessly in her brain. All around her Anna could see the previously squirming women sitting docile as the guards walked up to each one with an injection. “No…” Anna mumbled around the pacifier. Suddenly it wasn’t a guard holding the needle. Anna turned and saw Jane standing before her in one of the guard uniforms, it bulged out around her waist from the hefty diaper underneath. Anna’s old friend stared at her with dead eyes and a flat emotionless face. “You left me…” Jane said as the needle was moved towards her arm, “You could’ve saved me.” Anna shook her head. The words were seeping in and her resistance crumbled completely. As the needle went into her arm and Jane pressed the plunger Anna screamed hopelessly. “Anna!” Anna was being shaken, and she sat up so fast she nearly butted heads with Ryan. She could feel that she was covered with sweat and was breathing hard. She instinctively grabbed her arm where the needle had been, there was nothing there. She took a few deep breaths and felt a familiar shameful wetness between her legs. “The nightmare again?” Ryan asked as she placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Anna nodded before letting out a sob. Ryan pulled her closer to his shoulder as she cried softly. It had been a recurring nightmare for a while now. No matter how many times she ended up in that “Finishing School” it never felt any less real. It was stupid, she didn’t even know what the inside of one of those institutions actually looked like, her brain was just filling in the blanks with every horror it could conceive of. She felt Ryan pulling the cover back and revealing the wet patch on the bed. Anna had wet herself. “It’s OK.” Ryan whispered in Anna’s ear, “You’re safe.” “I’m sorry.” Anna said as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to apologise.” Ryan replied, “You’re fine.” “I mean, I’m sorry for…” Anna gestured down to the wet patch. “Don’t worry about it.” Ryan smiled sleepily, “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll change the sheets.” Anna slipped out of bed. She was naked as she stood up and the floorboard underneath her feet creaked loudly. The space between the bed and the wall was cramped meaning she had to awkwardly sidle out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the bathroom. The apartment was small, old and, despite Anna’s best efforts, falling apart. The wallpaper Anna walked past was peeling, one of the windows was boarded up and she had to step around crack in the floor that seemed to threaten to fall through at the slightest hint of weight. In the bathroom Anna pulled on a long string that was hanging from the ceiling, the lightbulb flickered to life. The water heater for the building was broken so the water in the shower never warmed up. Anna shivered as she stepped under the showerhead. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible so she quickly soaped herself up and rinsed herself off. She couldn’t shake the image of Jane from her head. Not long before Anna and Ryan had made their quick exit from the college Ryan had been attending, Jane had experienced an altogether less voluntary withdrawal. The closest person to a friend Anna had ever had, Jane had displeased her husband who had promptly sent her away to Finishing School. Anna had no idea what had happened to her but could guess it wasn’t good. People who went into those places were often not seen again, and those that re-appeared were unrecognisable to their old selves, and to their families. It had been ten months since they had moved into the apartment building. It had been the cheapest place that Ryan and Anna could find and even then was at the upper limit of what they could afford. After they left the college in disgrace, they knew they were going to be outcasts but perhaps they had underestimated just how bad things could be. Ryan had immediately started looking for work, but he had been blacklisted from even most menial jobs, even a cursory background search on him would’ve found black marks that made employers run away, things like “Dissident” and “Suspicious Individual.” All because he’d had the gall to not want to treat Anna like a second-class citizen. Things had become desperate before Ryan found a job in a call centre; it was the only place that would give him a chance. The money he was paid was only just enough to afford rent and bills, even food had become a bit of an extravagance. Despite the difficulties Ryan and Anna had remained close. In fact, they may have become closer than ever before in spite of the hardships they faced. The problem was that love can only get a person so far, the truth was they were desperately struggling with no support network and in a place with no safety net. There was no sign that things would get better either as both of their families had been quick to disown them. The worst part for Anna was the way Ryan was very clearly being crushed. His spirit and soul seemed to be ebbing away and every time he came home from work, he would look that bit more miserable. Anna found herself wondering if it hadn’t all been a terrible mistake, she sometimes wondered if Ryan resented her and wished he had chosen differently. After all, this was all because of her. If Ryan had sent her away, he would be an executive on his way to the top rather than stuck at the bottom living in a cold flat and eating the cheapest food. “Damn it.” Anna muttered as shivered into her towel after her shower. The nightmares were awful and happened twice a week or so. She had never been to the dreaded Finishing School so her mind was conjuring up something that may not even have existed. The worst part for Anna was the effect it had on her bladder. Having been potty trained so recently she usually didn’t have too many problems as long as a toilet was nearby, but wetting the bed was a common result of her bad dreams. Ryan hadn’t brought up wearing “protection” to bed, but she knew he must be thinking about it, they couldn’t exactly afford to replace their mattress. Diapers were something she was only too used to, having only recently been able to get out of them she dreaded having to go back for any reason whatsoever. Anna knew she wasn’t going to get any more sleep. She slipped on her dressing gown and walked through to the living room. The flat was a lot smaller than the place they had stayed in at college and the living room was the best example of this lack of space. An old television was against the far wall, a wooden table with a bent leg in the middle of the room and just beyond that a couch that had numerous holes in it. Anna sat on the couch and flicked on the television. The morning news was on. The problem with the news in Sallas was that it was nearly impossible to tell what was real or fake, the propaganda was so rife that seeing through it became very difficult. The presenter was excitedly telling his audience about Sallas’s economy doing well and suggesting it was because there weren’t any “distractions” in the workforce. “Distractions” was clearly a code word for women as they showed short clips from various office and factories extolling the virtues of their society. Anna could only roll her eyes. It was all so transparent, she found it hard to believe anyone fell for their crap. In any other country Anna would be in one of those offices or laboratories. She knew she was smart but at no point had any of that intelligence been nurtured, she had never been given the opportunity to show what she could do. She never would get that chance either, not whilst she was where she was, when she was who she was. She tried not to dwell on her lost potential, but it was difficult. Anna went over to the drawers in the corner and retrieved a tattered old book. She brought it back to the couch and opened the frayed cover. There she looked at herself from long ago, back before her parents had died, leaving her stranded in the hell that was Sallas. She thought she looked a lot like her mother, but she had her father’s eyes for sure. Her photo album of her as a baby was practically all that had survived the car crash that had killed her parents. She remembered so little about them. “… And finally, a reminder of this morning’s big story.” The newscaster said as Anna turned the page, “A number of civil disruptions around the country last night forced the police to crackdown on some undesirables and dissenters. A spokesman for the government said the ringleaders had been rounded up and that there is no cause for alarm.” Anna changed the channel. There was a morning talk show on one of the more rabidly pro-government channels. A man was practically frothing at the mouth as he ranted and raved that women were still too free. Anna shook her head, to some men in Sallas the very idea that a woman might have an independent thought was enough to send them into an apoplectic rage. “… I’m telling you they will be the downfall of us all!” The balding pudgy man said. His spit flew across the table as he angrily dropped his fist against the surface. “Whilst I agree any idea of, pardon my language, feminism, is abhorrent to our society I’m not sure what you would like the government to do…” A more professional looking man replied. His suit was wrinkle-free, and he didn’t have a single hair out of place. The so-called “moderate.” “For a start we could make Finishing School mandatory.” The angry man replied, “Get these girls out of the school system and teach what they really need to know early. Stamp out these ridi-” Anna changed the channel. Whilst she was used to hearing men attacking women for every ill in society the ideas being expressed on that show were just too horrifying to think about. Finishing School was essentially a prison designed to brainwash women into being good little girls, it was currently used as punishment for women that didn’t conform perfectly, the idea of sending all females there made Anna shudder. The next channel was for children. To be more accurate it was for little boys. Anna watched as two puppets talked to a group of little boys sitting in front of them. “And a girl, even an itty-bitty little girl the same age as you…” The puppet dog’s paw pointed at the children in front of him. He had a deep authoritative voice and was the face of one of the most popular children’s brands in Sallas, “Can be a very a dangerous thing.” “But how can an itty-bitty little girl be dangerous?” The second puppet seemed modelled on a mouse. He spoke with a back-country twang to his voice that Anna supposed was to make him sound less intelligent. “Because they are naughty.” The dog puppet replied seriously, “They are always looking for ways to get boys in trouble. It’s why it’s important for all you little boys to…” “Report bad behaviour!” The children all chorused. “That’s right!” The puppet dog nodded, “To your Daddies, teachers, or local govern-…” Anna turned the television off. She laid down on the cushions of the couch with her head resting against the arm. She hadn’t planned to drift off but suddenly came to when she heard Ryan’s footsteps coming down the hallway. He paused at the entrance to the living room for a second before heading into the kitchen. The sun was just starting to rise giving the sky outside a red glow. Anna sat up and stretched as Ryan came walking back in with two mugs of coffee. “I’ve got some eggs and bacon cooking.” Ryan said as he put the mugs down on the table. “Shouldn’t you be watching it?” Anna asked as she yawned, “You could start a fire.” “In this place?” Ryan shrugged, “Could be an improvement.” Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. It tasted cheap, which of course it was. Unlike when they were supported by Ryan’s parents, they couldn’t afford to spend much on luxuries. The cheapest store-brand instant coffee was still pushing the boat out for them. Soon they were sitting in the living room eating their breakfast. They didn’t really have a lot to talk about, but Anna was happy in the silence. If anything was brought up, she felt sure it would be her nightmare and what had happened as a result of it. The silence was much better than that particular conversation. “I suppose I should get ready.” Ryan sighed as he stood up. Anna did the washing up whilst Ryan had a quick shower and then got dressed in his suit. He came into the kitchen where the married couple shared a little kiss before he broke away with a smile, his hand came up and cupped Anna’s cheek. They had been getting a little more intimate since leaving college, they certainly hadn’t jumped straight into bed with one another, but they were becoming more romantic over time. It was just hard for Anna to let herself get carried away, part of her was still waiting for the penny to drop and for Ryan to send her away so he could get on with a much better life than the one he had with her. It was nonsense, of course, Ryan had been given plenty of opportunities to give Anna up and had never done so. “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.” Ryan said, “Do we need anything for dinner?” “I think we’re alright for tonight.” Anna replied. It was slightly ironic that Anna and Ryan had been ostracised from society because of their resistance to Sallas’s extreme gender roles because now, in some small ways, they found themselves conforming to them. Whilst Ryan worked Anna looked after the home which meant doing most of the cooking and cleaning. It only seemed fair that she help out since Ryan had to work so much, and as difficult as it was for Ryan to find his job, it would’ve been impossible for Anna. “I’ll see you later.” Ryan sighed and tried to put on a brave smile. “Have a good day.” Anna replied. “You too.” Ryan’s smile was a bit more genuine now. Just as Ryan was turning to head to the front door there was a loud knock followed by the ringing of a doorbell. Ryan froze in his tracks. Anna hurried forwards and peered around the doorframe as if expecting to see something other than the front door. There were many reasons for Ryan and Anna to be nervous. They kept to themselves, not many people would associate with people that had been labelled as undesirables and those that would weren’t people Anna wanted to know. Neither of them had made any friends of acquaintances in the area so the fact there was someone at the door filled them both with dread. “Did you pay the rent?” Anna whispered to Ryan. “We’re only one month behind…” Ryan muttered in reply, “Jean doesn’t normally start knocking unless it’s three months.” “Then who is it?” Anna hissed. Ryan shrugged at her and then they both turned to the door. There were more bangs and insistent rings of the bell. Whoever it was, they were fairly insistent that they were going to be coming in sooner rather than later. “W-Who is it?” Ryan called from the safety of the kitchen doorway. “Open the door, Mr. Manning.” A deep voice replied. “Not unless you tell me what you want.” Ryan called back. “How about you open the door before we get impatient.” The voice replied. Anna tried to hold Ryan back as he went to step forwards. He turned to face her and shrugged, he was right, there was nowhere for them to run or hide. They didn’t know who was at the door, but it seemed like they were going to come in one way or another. Anna followed Ryan out but stayed several steps behind. Ryan opened the door, and Anna could see two men in suits on the other side. They pushed past Ryan and walked in as if they owned the place. Anna didn’t like the way they looked at her and smiled. Ryan closed the door as the two walked into the living room. Anna was tensed up, she didn’t know why these people were there, but she was ready to fight for her life if she needed to. “You see, Jimmy, didn’t I tell you she was beautiful.” The man doing the talking had snow white hair. His small nose seemed almost swallowed by his glasses that did little to hide a pair of very piercing eyes. “That you did.” Replied the younger of the two men. He was chewing gum and was leering at Anna. “Who are you?” Ryan asked. “Jimmy.” The older man said with a dismissive wave, “But you can call me Mr. Sawyer.” Anna watched as the intruder present a piece of paper to Ryan. As he did so the older man sat down on the couch. He waited a few seconds whilst Ryan looked over the paper, in the meantime the younger man walked over to Jimmy, who Anna suspected was his boss, and stood next to him. The whole time Ryan was reading neither of the intruders took their eyes off Anna. “I don’t think I understand…” Ryan finally said as he looked up with a frown, “What is this?” “That.” Mr. Sawyer said without turning from Anna, “Is a contract.” --- If you want to see what happens next RIGHT NOW you can do so at one of the following links. Thank you, and all support is very gratefully received: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/mf967rdsf7db10/chapter/mfjaqi124bff3c1 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2066849

Long time lurker. This is the first story I have written. Writing isn’t my strength, and It takes me forever to write, re-read, and rewrite. I have already written 20 chapters. I hope everyone finds this story different but interesting. This is a slow burn, but it does get into the diapers and regression. It will take a few chapters to really get into it. I can see this going for at least another 20 chapters on top of the twenty chapters already written. Chapter 1: The New Intern Avery let out a deep sigh of relief as he read the email he had just received from the biomedical technology department. He was finally being recognized for his hard work and dedication. His complex calculations and programming to demonstrate the interactions between a relatively new drug and a person's DNA had proven correct and valuable, leading to him being hired over a month ago - despite the doubt and ridicule from his colleagues. He leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. On the one hand, he was elated that his efforts were beginning to be acknowledged, but on the other hand, he felt uncertain if this would lead to further respect or more challenges from those who never believed in him. A sense of pride mixed with apprehension began to stir within him, thoughts of the potential applications of this research tumbling through his mind. Ever since Avery Sage was a little boy, he has experienced problems with keeping his pants dry. Maybe it had something to do with the car accident that claimed the lives of his parents. Perhaps the foster homes he cycled through caused him stress, or maybe he would have always had this problem. All he knew for sure was that he needed to wear protection when out in public because when he got stressed, his bladder gave way. As a result, whenever he left the security of his home, he wore pull-ups, which made him feel like a little kid and dampened his confidence. His confidence wasn't helped because he was only five foot and one inch tall for a young man. These anxieties certainly didn’t help his mental health. He suffered from depression, anxiety, and insomnia. He regularly saw a psychiatrist and was on medication, but life could still be a struggle. He thought back to his first week of work. Avery graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Biochemistry at the age of 18. A year later, he was offered an internship while working on his master's in Biochemistry and Genetics. Avery stepped through the doors of DNA Pharmacia, feeling equal parts nervousness and excitement. He had been preparing for this moment his whole life – the chance to finally earn some respect and prove all those who had doubted him wrong. Flashbacks filled his mind of all the running between foster care families he had endured; it had made his self-confidence falter, but nonetheless provided the motivation for him to finish high school years early and break free from the wings of his current foster family. Now was the time to show what he was made of. As Avery sat in the HR office, he wore his dress clothes for his first day, which was saying much– a little too large for his slim, small frame – but still managing to make him feel small and helpless against the world around him. People seemed to look through him everywhere he went as if he were invisible, yet he couldn't shake off the nagging sensation that all eyes were upon him. His shoulders sagged under the weight of defeat that shrouded his self-confidence. His wavery, untamed hair was combed back the best it could be. “Ok, Avery.” Julian, the HR representative, said. “You're done. You're officially an employee of DNA Pharmacia.” “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Avery smiled as he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Julian’s hand. Julian's expression was warm and encouraging as he shook Avery's hand. Julian was a tall, distinguished man in his late thirties, wearing a navy blue suit and a striped tie. His brown eyes twinkle with kindness, and he has a slight, friendly smirk while speaking to Avery. His handshake was firm but slightly frail, making Avery feel nervous that he had no idea if he could uphold such a promise. Doesn't everyone think that on their first day at work? Avery thought to himself. Julian just smiled back at him from his kind face, like he could read Avery's mind. “Great, I am hoping for good things from you. Shall I show you to your new desk and department?” Julian returned the smile. “Yes, please,” Avery followed Julian out of the room. They took two flights up in the elevator to a department called “Chemical DNA Sequencing Department.” and walked side-by-side down the long corridors of the main building. They passed glass panels on every wall and Avery marveled at how modern this building was. He watched sensors scanning vials of chemicals and equipment, feeding data into computers across the room. It was clear no money had been spared in making DNA a cutting-edge company. Every window they passed made him want to stop and ask what was happening; it all looked so exciting, and he couldn’t wait to start. All this made him forget that he secretly wore a pull-up underneath his clothes as protection was needed. It was down one of these corridors that Avery met an older man. The man had a strong jawline and sharp features, aged but wise. His eyes were a deep blue, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, and his beard was flecked with silver. He wore a crisp white shirt with black trousers and polished black shoes. He towered over Avery with an air of authority, yet his demeanor was warm and friendly. Avery recognized him from some of the interviews he had gone through to land this job. “Welcome! You must be our marvelous new intern. I am Bryan Wells, and you'll report directly to me! At your desk we have a laptop and a corporate iPhone with the works waiting there for you. From your resume and job interviews, my colleagues have noticed your peculiar knack for math and biochemistry, so we have an exciting task ahead for you! On your desk is a folder that outlines our challenge: debug a computational logic program that looks at DNA to determine designer drugs for fighting cancer. It's a riddle waiting to be solved - think you can do it? Report back any bugs as soon as possible, and we'd be grateful!” Bryan said cheerfully as he led Avery to his desk. “Yes, sir,” Avery replied. He would have agreed to do whatever Bryan needed. He was eager to impress. Bryan continued to talk to Avery. It was a one-sided conversation. Avery was too in awe of everything he was seeing to really contribute much. For him, this place was like a dream—top-level research with some of the smartest people in the world where his work could actually help people. Avery looked around the room. A long row of cubicles ran down one wall with a dozen or so scientists already hard at work on their projects. Avery's desk was tucked into the corner by an emergency exit. The light blue walls were sparse, containing only a few motivational posters and pictures of animals from Earth. Bryan led him to his chair and showed him how he could adjust it to fit him since the chair was probably to tall for him. Avery blushed a little but said nothing about it. Bryan reviewed with him how to log in to the server and the IT policies on using company-issued equipment. Bryan also went over where the relevant programs were located; he would review the folder with all the notes on the development of this program. “If you need anything, come to find me over there,” Bryan pointed to his private office. “The other scientists and engineers should be coming around to introduce themselves to you today.” “Ok, sounds good… And thank you for this opportunity,” Avery said as Bryan returned to his office. On that first day, he met a few scientists and a few engineers. They all seemed friendly enough, even though Avery didn’t have much to say. He wanted to just focus on the task at hand. He felt he had something to prove. Avery had been dealt a tough hand; growing up in the foster care system meant that he was constantly met with obstacles and negative comments. He was told time and again what he couldn’t do, but instead of accepting those limitations as his fate, he used them as motivation. Everyone’s doubts about him only strengthened his desire to prove them all wrong. The rest of the day was slow. Avery needed help concentrating on the program he had been asked to look at. Quite frankly, it was dull, and after seeing all the other scientists and engineers doing much more exciting things, Avery was keen to do something that felt more meaningful. This need to do something drew him to the thick handbook about all the research involved with this program and more. He was fascinated with it. Avery brought the program to his apartment that night. He abstained from indulging in his usual nightly video game escapades. Instead, he spent hours poring over the computational intricacies of DNA's involvement in cancerous growths, absorbed in deciphering the energy states of cancer cells. The realization that this program was an amalgamation of these complex calculations completely captivated him, particularly as he examined how the drug had to be manipulated to match the energy state of the cancer cells so that it would interact effectively with them. It was nothing less than astounding. As he delved deeper into the notes, he discovered a vexing inconsistency in one of the mathematical formulas that disrupted the programming and prevented it from reaching a conclusion on what drug was needed for treatment. Avery closed the notebook for the night, satisfied he knew what he could start looking at and he was glad to be out of the pull-up for the day. As he lay in bed, his mind kept running through what he had read. His insomnia medication meant he wasn’t awake for long, but even in sleep, it felt like his brain was searching through everything he had learned the previous day. The morning came too quickly as his alarm went off. “Ugh, I hate mornings,” Avery muttered as he hit the snooze button repeatedly. The alarm kept ringing, and every time it did, Avery reached out a hand and hit the snooze button again. It was an almost instinctive reaction to the annoying noise. His brain wasn’t clicking into gear. All he knew was that he wanted more sleep. At one point, as the alarm went, Avery pawed at the snooze button yet again but only ended up knocking his phone off the bedside table. “Oh shit,” He said as he looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 a.m. He was supposed to be at work at 8:00 a.m. His alarm had been going on and off since 6:00 a.m. this morning. Avery quickly removed his boxers and slipped on new pull-ups, light gray tan dockers, and a maroon golf shirt. He quickly wet down his hair and combed it back, knowing it would still look like a mess when his hair dried. Avery quickly left to grab the bus to work at 7:30 a.m. and hopefully be at work at 8:00 am. It was a rush, and Avery didn’t feel particularly ready, but as he walked out of the front door into the early morning air. He didn’t know how anyone could be a “morning person” when he always felt… tired. That morning, when Avery got to work, the first thing he did was get a large cup of coffee. Afterward, he sat down at his desk and began to take a look at the code. The code wasn’t easy to follow. It didn’t follow too much of a logical path in his mind. Two hours later, John Taylor, the most Sr, Engineer on the project and project lead, stopped by his desk. John was a 45-year-old engineer with a commanding presence and an ego to match. He stood at an imposing 6'2" and had a burly build that spoke of years of physical labor. Despite his advancing age, his muscles were still firm, and his torso remained taut, reflecting an unwavering commitment to physical fitness. Avery thought John's walk exuded confidence, each step resonating with a deliberate thud. His posture was impeccable, with his chest puffed out and his chin held high. He had a square jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore through any obstacle in their way. This made Avery very anxious to be around him. He was very much the opposite of Avery, who was dressed in a pair of tan dockers and a collared maroon shirt That he had quickly thrown on minutes before leaving the house. If someone were to judge Avery. They would say he dressed not to cause a stir and just wanted to blend in. The differences between the timid Avery and John, who exuded machismo and confidence, couldn’t have been starker. John wore an expensive suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his chiseled physique, a testament to his attention to detail and his love of the finer things in life. “Impressive work on one of my projects, huh?” John scowled as he snatched the notebook off his desk. “I wouldn't waste your time with all the irrelevant data scribbled in here. It'll do nothing but distract you.” He flicked it to the other side of his desk like an afterthought. Avery noticed John's hazel eyes were framed by creases that spoke to years of meticulous research studies and calculations. “I tried to get a grip on it, but honestly, I stumbled over the complex calculations necessary for developing designer drugs. Despite that, I was still captivated by the work yesterday." Avery sighed, not convinced of his own abilities to do this kind of research but determine to make a difference still. “Well, just weed out the bugs and get the program working. My team and I will take care of the rest.” Johns said with a condescending smile. “If you do that, you will do good here, kid!” “It’s just….” Avery started. He wanted to prove his knowledge by suggesting a change to the handbook. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” John cut Avery off with ease. Avery felt a little put out by this overconfident man. He had been hired to be equal to all the other scientists, and yet John was acting like he was somebody hired to do data entry. He knew he could make the program run better and make the handbook better; he just needed John to listen to him. “I’m just thinking that if we…” Avery tried again. “If you have any suggestions, just write them down and slip them under my door,” John said as he started walking away without looking over his shoulder. The rest of the day went on without a hitch. A few people came by and tried to introduce themselves to him, but he kept the small talk to a minimum and just wanted to look over the program. Avery took a lot of notes that day. At the end of the day, he decided to retake the notebook home and leave the laptop at the office. He left the office at 4:30 p.m. to catch the bus at 5 p.m. If he missed the bus past 6 p.m., there wouldn't be another bus till morning. He was hungrier than normal because he skipped lunch all day to work on debugging the program. He stopped by a McDonald's and ordered a Big Mac. As he stood in line, he couldn't help but notice the Happy Meals on the counter, offering small Lego kits to children. It was a cruel marketing strategy to exploit parents and make them buy more Lego sets for their already spoiled kids. He knew this well, but it only reminded him of his own childhood, one filled with deprivation and lack of affection. He watched as the children played with their toys, ignoring the food in front of them - something he would have cherished as a child. But no, he was never allowed such frivolous things growing up; his foster parents made sure to remind him how unworthy he was of such luxuries. The memory brought back painful emotions that festered deep within him.

Hi everyone! This is my first story I've ever written on this platform. Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoy it. Part Three coming soon! Connor's Unfortunate Lesson: Part One After years of Connor Jackson running his family ragged – driving them to the brink of insanity with his rude, disrespectful, and sometimes criminal behavior – his stepmother has finally decided she’s had enough. The last straw had been when he’d been caught breaking into parked cars in the middle of the night in an effort to score some quick cash. Michelle, who had been in his life for the better part of the last ten years, was both infuriated and devastated when she received that fateful call from the police. Instead of rushing down to the station to bail him out once again, she opted to leave him there for the remainder of the weekend while she finished putting her plan into action. When the following Monday arrived, the first thing she did was set up a meeting with her stepson’s school. Of course, their first inclination was to expel Connor for violating their code of ethics for the umpteenth time. However, she was eventually able to convince the board to allow her to unenroll him so that she could homeschool him herself. It had been a small victory, but at least this way she figured he might still have a chance to earn his GED and attend a good university. One day. At first, Connor had been thrilled with the latest development. He was convinced he’d gotten off scott-free. That is, until they arrived back at the house. After having spent the last several nights in jail, all he’d wanted to do was hole-up in his room and get some much needed sleep. Because as far as he was convinced, all he’d done was earn himself an early summer vacation that promised to be filled with girls, weed, and however much booze he could get his hands on. After his latest brush with the law, he was pretty sure that he’d just cemented his status as the resident “big man on campus”. Although fairly short for his age, he often found himself toeing the edge of being a bully. When he spoke, people listened. And if they knew what was best for them, they did as they were told. Otherwise he made sure they knew there would be consequences. He’d once dumped a kid in a garbage can after he refused to pony up his lunch money on Pizza Day. One could even argue that Connor was proud of his reputation. His male classmates respected him. Possibly envied him. And as for the girls, well, he had yet to meet one who didn’t want him. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the word “no” – from anybody. Including his parents. Especially his parents. Even when his father had been alive, the man had been known for giving in to his spoiled son’s every whim. Although there were times when Michelle had warned him that he might be going too far, her protests had often fallen on deaf ears. Connor’s father was adamant that he was just trying to give his son the type of childhood he’d never had. Unfortunately for all of them, his attempts had only resulted in him raising a child who believed he didn’t have to play by the same rules as everyone else. But those days were over. After his last arrest, his stepmother knew it was time to put her foot down. Big changes were coming to the Jackson household. A fact Connor realized the moment he walked through his front door. Instead of being allowed to make a beeline for his bedroom, he’d found himself being hauled off to the living room for a special kind of punishment. The kind that involved a long overdue trip over his stepmother’s knee where she proceeded to blister his ass with a sturdy, wooden hair brush. It had been the first time he’d been spanked since childhood. And it was even worse than he could’ve ever imagined. The shame and humiliation had been overwhelming – and he hadn’t been alone for it either. His two stepsisters, Daphne and Delilah, had been in there to witness the entire spectacle. They’d heard every pained gasp and cry, had watched as he flailed and thrashed helplessly while their mother busied herself expertly reddening every inch of his bare bottom until he could no longer contain his sobs. But the girls harbored no sympathy for him. Instead they’d simply laughed, pleased to see their troublesome brother reduced to such an infantile state. In their minds, this was what he deserved after having spent the last few years enduring his would-be reign of terror. When the spanking finally ended, it was then that Michelle dropped what had felt akin to that of a verbal atomic bomb. In that very moment, right there in the living room, his stepmother declared that, moving forward, Connor’s life was about to change drastically. In order to save him, he would be made to start over. Take things back to the basics. And, hopefully, unlearn every single delinquent behavior that, up until now, had kept him off the straight and narrow. Until then, he’d lose all perks and privileges that came with being an adult. No friends. No phones. No electronics. A strict bedtime. And, what’s more, the bathroom was officially off limits. Chest still heaving, a shocked Connor had opened his mouth to protest, only to clam up when one of his sisters was ordered to bring out the urine stained sheets he’d hastily crumpled and shoved under his bed several nights ago. While it wasn’t the first time he had accidentally soiled himself in his sleep, he thought he’d actually been hiding pretty well. He had no idea that his family was well aware of his little secret. They’d just been waiting for the right time to confront him. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” Michelle mused, her nose crinkling as she’s hit with the stale whiff of the young man’s shame. “I mean, honestly. Just be grateful that your father isn’t here to witness what a disappointment his pride and joy has become.” “You’re insane!” He’d hissed, his face red as he began to rub his still smarting backside. “Dad would never let you treat me like this. My inheritance is supposed to come through virtually any day now, and when it does, I’m throwing you, and your girls out on your asses the first chance I get!” Connor’s sniffles had only grown more pronounced when his threat was rewarded with a resounding combination of snorts and laughter from the three remaining members of his family – which was confusing. Because in his mind there had been nothing funny about any of this. “I’m sorry, Connor. And girls, stop. This is serious.” Even so, Michelle had continued to giggle long after the bulk of her laughter subsided. “Because what your brother doesn’t understand is that, while yes he was promised an inheritance, he’s also going to have a hard time collecting it if he isn’t deemed competent to do so.” Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, she’d given her daughters a knowing look. “As your guardian, I have a final say as to whether or not you’re ready to receive access to the trust funds you father left behind – which is true for all three of you.” “But I’m–!” “Yes, you may have just turned eighteen, young man.” His stepmother scoffed before rising to her feet. “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready. You have no plans for the future. No desire to go to college or find a trade school. In fact, the only thing you’re able to boast about is your growing rap sheet.” She adjusts her blouse, subtly highlighting her shapely figure. “Whereas your sisters are set to attend the best university in the state on full scholarship, starting this fall.” “I don’t need school, Michelle. I’ve got money. A lot of money.” Connor had snarled before attempting to snatch the sheets out of his sister’s grasp. He failed, of course. “Now, give me my shit and I’ll let you keep the Range Rover my Dad bought you. And when I sell the house, I might even cut you a piece of the profits. Assuming I can bring myself to forget about the way you’ve all treated me just now.” And that’s when Michelle began to move. “Let’s face it, Connor.” He’d stepped back as she slowly invaded his space, effectively towering over him, making him feel smaller than he’d liked to admit. “You’re nothing but a little boy who thinks he’s doing a good job of pretending to be a grown-up.” Cupping his chin, she’d then forced him to meet her stern, blue-eyed gaze. “We – your father and I – failed you the first time around. Which is why I feel like I’m partly to blame for what you’ve become. But I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, and even had a chance to consult with a leading therapist who specializes in helping troubled young men find their way back on the straight and narrow. His best-selling novel, Rebirth: The Road Back to Babyhood, was quite the page-turner.” Feeling like the walls were closing in on him, Connor could only summon a weak cry as the weight of his circumstances became overwhelming. “You can’t do this…I…” And that’s when a fresh wave of tears had begun to fall. “I’ll call the police. I…I…” He’d trailed off upon noticing Michelle’s smug grin. “Oh, Connie.” She’d eventually released his chin in order to mockingly ruffle his chocolate brown locks. “It’s already been done. This summer, your sisters and I are going to help give you the do-over you so desperately need. We’re going to break that stubborn little spirit so you can grow up to be the kind of upstanding young man who wants to make his family proud.” Leaning down, she’d pressed a chaste kiss along his furrowed brow. He honestly couldn’t believe that these were his only options. Either refuse and be thrown out on the street, penniless and without a place to call home. Or stay and allow himself to be subjected to whatever twisted plans his stepmother had in store for him. “Please…” He’d tried once more, now feeling more helpless than he’d ever had in his life. “I can–I can change.” God, he’d hated how his voice shook with every word he spoke. “Oh, we know you can, baby boy. And you will.” His stepmother assured him as she’d reached for his hand, dragging him down the hall in the direction of one of the house’s many guestrooms. “Like it or not, your new life starts today. Now, come on girls!” She’d called out as her grip tightened, forcing Conner to scramble to keep up with her long stride. “It’s time to show your baby brother his brand new room!” END Connor's Unfortunate Lesson: Part Two - (Takes place three months after the events in Part One) At eighteen-years-old, Connor was desperate to keep his neighbors and the surrounding community from finding out about his shameful little secret. You see, while most of his classmates were finishing up the school year and preparing to start college in the fall, he’d been busy with something else. And it had everything to do with the diaper he was currently hiding underneath his gray sweatpants. For the last few months, the toilet had been off limits to him. All thanks to the bad behaviour that had landed him in jail around that same time. Well, that and the fact that he still had a tendency to wet the bed at night. Unfortunately for him, being denied access to the bathroom like any other self-sufficient adult had severely affected his ability to control his bladder. If he was awake, he usually had a 50/50 chance that his body might alert him that he needed to pee. Or mess. From there, he only had a matter of minutes before he was forced to do his business wherever he stood. Or squatted for that matter. And if he was asleep, then all bets were off. Having anticipated this development, his stepmother now mandated that he be kept in diapers full-time. Connor would have to earn the right to use the potty like a big boy again, whenever Michelle believed he was ready. Wait. Not Michelle. Mommy. Of course, what was even more embarrassing was that he wasn’t even allowed to change his own diaper. Depending on how his behavior had been that week, he might not even be allowed to ask for one. If he’d gotten himself in trouble, he would often have to wait until his Mommy or one of his sisters decided to check to see if he’d soiled himself. It was utterly humiliating. These days, Connor was no longer allowed the privilege of modesty. Michelle bathed him every night and typically changed his dirty diapers throughout the day. And when she was too busy, or couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, the demeaning task fell to one of his twin sisters: Daphne or Delilah. If he were being honest, he regretted having mistreated both girls over the years. Because now they took every opportunity they could to inflict their revenge. While they were of no relation to him, they were the spitting image of their beautiful mother. And what made it even worse is that they were only older than him by a handful of months. Sometimes Daphne wasn’t so bad. While he wouldn’t exactly say she was nice, he could usually deal with the way she teased and babied him. But Delilah…she could be downright cruel. There were times she went out of her way to humiliate him, and she often wouldn’t stop until he was reduced to tears. Thankfully, no one from the outside world seemed to be aware of Connor’s new predicament. Something for which the young man was grateful. But deep down, there was a part of him that knew this wouldn’t last forever. Eventually the other shoe would have to drop. Which could hopefully mean freedom from his infantile prison and access to the trust fund he was owed. Or a lifetime of embarrassment if anyone in town ever discovered his new, baby-powder scented secret. And thanks to the calculated efforts of his Mommy, it was quickly looking like the young man’s life was swiftly careening towards the latter. Whether he had a say in it or not. __________ A Few Days Later... “Michelle…” Connor whines softly as he anxiously shifts from foot to foot. “Please don’t make me do this.” Heaving a weary sigh, his stepmother brushes past him to check on the quiche she had baking away in the oven. “For the last time, Conrad, I’m not making you do anything you haven’t already been doing for the last few months. And you know that’s not my name.” Realizing her dish still needed a few more minutes, she closes the door before turning to face the young man currently occupying her kitchen. “Who am I to you?” “Mommy. I–I’m sorry, Mommy.” He quickly amends, hoping to avoid wracking up any additional punishments. His bottom still ached from the spanking he’d received earlier that morning. “That’s better. Now, we’re having company over and that’s final. And you will be on your best behavior while they’re here, or there will be consequences. Is that understood?” She arches one perfect blonde brow for emphasis. “But can I…can I…” He stammers, wishing he could simply get the words out. “Can you…what?” An impatient Michelle crosses her arms over her ample bosom. “Spit it out or stop wasting my time.” “Can’t I please at least put on my underwear? Real underwear? I won’t have an accident, I swear!” Unfortunately, Connor was pretty sure he’d known the answer before he’d even summoned up the courage to ask the question. But when he’d found out the identity of the visitors she’d invited, it was worth a try. “Oh, Connie…” Her derisive snort seems to echo throughout the fairly large room. “Always so convinced you’re ready to be a big boy when you’re not.” “But I don’t want them to see me in a–” He cuts off mid-sentence as he feels his cheeks heat. “I don’t want them to know that I have to wear…this.” He finishes, apprehensively tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Well, why not?” Michelle glides over the fridge to take stock of treats she’d prepared for the afternoon’s festivities. “It’s for your protection, after all. Do you remember what happened the last time you went without your…protection?” The mocking lilt in her voice has him feeling about two feet tall. “Yes.” He mumbles, his gaze dropping to his socked feet. “And?” “I fell asleep and had an accident on the couch.” “Hmm.” Closing the door, she moves to take a seat at the kitchen table. Resting her chin on her palm, she makes it clear that he now has her full attention. “And what did Mommy do? What did she have to do when you had your little accident?” “You…you spanked me. With my paddle.” Connor swallows hard, his bruised bottom throbbing at the memory. “And then you put me in triple diapers for the rest of the week.” “And tell me – why did I do that, Connor?” His fists clench uselessly at his sides. “Be–because I took off my diaper.” The sound of Michelle’s tinkling laughter is enough to set his teeth on edge. “And is that something you’re allowed to do? Are you allowed to take your diaper off? Ever?” “No, Mommy.” “That’s right.” His stepmother then leans across the table to grab her cellphone – a right he’d been denied for months. Unless he managed to catch a bit of the evening news on television, he had no idea about what was going on in the world. “Frankly, I’m surprised you even had the gall to ask after the way I had to blister that naughty butt of yours for cursing at your sister.” Connor doesn’t bother to hide his grimace. He’d gotten a spanking this morning because of a stunt Delilah had pulled. How he hated her and her stupid ribbons. “Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so worried, little Connie?” Her feigned interest has her continuing to stare down at her phone. “I thought you’d be excited to have some company after all this time. You used to love Mr. and Mrs. Peters. Now out of options, the diapered young man visibly deflates. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out about his ongoing punishment. His reputation would be ruined. And he was pretty sure that he’d never be able to land another date for the rest of his life. “May I please be allowed to stay in my room?” “Absolutely not.” Pursing her perfectly painted lips, she sets down her device before beckoning him forward. Once he’s standing in front of her, Michelle lowers his pants to check the padding of his diaper. “You’re not that wet.” She gives his crotch an affectionate squeeze before turning him around to make sure he wasn’t hiding any other surprises. “And thank goodness you’re not poopy.” Pulling his sweats back up, she briefly goes quiet. A few moments pass before she finally speaks again. “Tell you what…” She pulls him closer, until he’s now perched on her knee. “Since you’re so worried about them finding out your secret, how about we change your diaper right before they get here? And then we’ll put you in your favorite onesie – the one with the easy snaps.” “Really?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but at the same time…he really was desperate. “And then we’ll put you back in your sweatpants, that way the Peters won’t notice a thing. After all, your diapers only swell up when they’re used, right?” “R–right…” “Now listen closely,” She boops his nose before continuing. “Because this is your one chance to show Mommy you just might have what it takes to start earning back all those big boy privileges you’ve been missing out on lately. When you feel like you need to go potty you come and tell me or your sisters right away. One of us will take you to the bathroom and help you with your diaper so no one has to find out. Deal?” Connor eagerly nods his head as relief blooms in his chest. “Thank you, Mommy. I won’t let you down – I promise!” Scrambling off his stepmother’s lap, he wanders off towards the living room to make sure it’s devoid of anything that could give away his secret. “You had better not, baby boy.” Michelle responds, as a cruel smile ghosts its way across her lips. “Even though something tells me that you already did…” ____ Four Hours Later... After what seemed like hours, the chime of the doorbell finally signals the arrival of their long awaited guests. Connor had been on pins and needles all morning, wishing that he could get the entire spectacle over with and move on with his day. He checks in the mirror one last time, silently reassuring himself that his so far still-dry diaper wasn’t readily visible beneath his gray sweatpants. As promised, his stepmother had dressed him in his least conspicuous onesie – the one with the easy snaps. Now, all he had to do was be polite and control his bladder long enough for someone to take him to the bathroom. It was pretty simple when he thought about it. “Connor!” Michelle bellows from down the hall. “Come say hello to our guests!” Resigning himself to his fate, he forces himself to make the trek from his room to the sitting area. Surely exchanging pleasantries with their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Peters, wouldn’t be too painful. Hell, they might even forget he was there after the first few minutes. Rounding the corner, his well-rehearsed greeting swiftly dies on his lips. Because standing in the living room was the last person he could possibly want to see. It was his classmate Mallory, the nerdy girl who always volunteered to do his homework, accompanied by her mother. “As you can see, Connie.” His Mommy grins at him while handing off their jackets to his sister, Daphne. “There appears to have been a slight change of plans. Mr. Peters couldn’t make it, so Mallory agreed to tag along instead. Isn’t that nice?” Conner remains too stunned and nervous to speak as he watches Michelle eagerly direct their company to the delicious spread she’s laid out for lunch. Alarm bells were sounding in his head, demanding that he run and hide immediately. “Young man, you’re being rude.” His Mother scolds, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “And you know I don’t tolerate rudeness in this household.” The unspoken threat in her voice hangs heavily between them. And that’s when it clicks that if he was going to survive the afternoon unscathed, he’d have to be very, very careful. All it would take is him breaking just one of her overbearingly meticulous rules for his secret to be exposed. “I–I’m so sorry.” Now that he’s got his feet moving again, he summons the wherewithal to shake their hands. First Mallory’s, and then her Mother’s. “I was surprised to see you, is all. Your daughter is the first person I’ve seen from school in quite awhile.” Instead of immediately responding, the older woman eyes him warily. “I heard you were arrested. Again. Makes sense that school finally had enough of you.” “Mom!” Mallory hisses, clearly embarrassed by her Mother’s unsolicited rebuke. “It’s okay…” Michelle assures them both before pouring Mrs. Peters a healthy glass of chilled Chardonnay. “While it’s true that dear Connie had yet another run-in with the law, after meeting with the school board, they were gracious enough to allow me to withdraw him instead of following through with their proposed expulsion. My baby boy got lucky.” She reaches over to affectionately ruffle his brown locks. “I can only assume you’ve taken up homeschooling him?” Mrs. Peters sniffs primly before taking a sip of her wine. “Assuming he’s willing to follow instructions.” “Oh, I can assure you that he’s been receiving quite the re-education.” She passes Connor a large bottle of water before instructing him to drink. “Remember, the doctor told you that you need to stay hydrated. You’ll need to finish that before you’re allowed a snack.” Connor feels his stomach drop as he accepts the offering. Because while he was thirsty, he knew that if he did as he was told he’d need to use the potty in no time. But that was okay, he told himself. Because his Mommy had promised to take him to the bathroom as soon as he asked. With that in mind, he finally allows himself to relax, if only just a little. While the two adults chatted idly, he listens to Mallory catch-him-up on the happenings he’d missed at school. From the football team’s record breaking season, to who was crowned this year’s prom king and queen, no topic off limits. Talking with her makes him feel good. Normal. Especially when it had been ages since he’d interacted with anyone outside of his mother and sisters. They were nearly an hour into the visit when he felt his bladder begin to show signs of protest. While he had yet to finish the entire bottle, he was close. But his body didn’t care. He knew he needed the bathroom. Now. “Um, excuse me? M-mom?” He mutters, trying to be as polite as possible with his interruption. Clearly annoyed by the prospect of being unable to finish her thougth, she turns to her stepson in a huff. “The adults are speaking, young man.” “I know, but…” Conner lowers his voice several octaves. “I need to go…to…” He trails off, assuming she’d catch the hint. However, he should’ve known that he wasn’t destined to be that lucky. “Go? Go where?” “The bathroom.” He mouths, while attempting to obscure his face from view. “Right now.” “Well, Mrs. Peters and I are in the middle of a conversation. You’re just going to have to wait like any other big boy your age.” With that, she effectively dismisses him, leaving him alone to panic. “Connor…is everything okay?” A confused Mallory asks. “Everything is fine.” He grunts, willing himself to take a deep breath as the pressure continues to grow. “Mom, please!” “For the last time, Connor!” She snaps, snatching his nearly empty water bottle and slamming it on the coffee table. How dare you keep interrupting me like this? I don’t have time to take you to the bathroom right now, so you’re either going to have to wait or go find one of your sisters. Am I being clear enough for you?” “Yes, ma’am.” He grumbles before anxiously rising from the couch, leaving his Mother’s dumbfounded guests behind in favor of tracking down one of his sisters before it was too late. Of course, that quest soon proves to be a colossal waste of time. Because while he manages to catch Delilah on her way out the door, she refuses to be of any help. She even takes it upon herself to loudly announce to anyone that was in earshot that she didn’t have the energy to deal with “pissy little diaper boys” today. Reeling from shame and praying that Mallory and her mother hadn’t overheard her rude declaration, he’d then gone about looking for Daphne. Which was how he’d ultimately found himself back in the living room. Following the sound of her voice, Connor and his now screaming bladder had scarcely set foot on the freshly steamed carpet before he realized just how dire his ordeal had become. “What’s up with all the yelling, Connie?” His sister mocks, adjusting her high ponytail. “You’re so needy all the time, it’s honestly starting to become a little embarrassing.” “Please.” He begs, feeling himself beginning to sweat as he continues to clench his thighs together. “I have to…I need…oh no…” Clutching the wall, he utters a pained groan as he feels the first hot stream of piss escape into his diaper. “Uh oh.” His sister coos, making light of his shame. Meanwhile, his unexpecting audience watches in stunned silence as the eighteen-year-old man slowly loses his battle with control. His knees buckle as he continues to soak his diaper with urine, forcing it to expand massively beneath the fabric of his sweat pants. “Jesus Christ!” Comes Mrs. Peters’ shocked gasp. “Did he just…wet himself? Look at that spot on his pants!” Sure enough, he had leaked. He didn’t have to check because he could already feel it. Michelle feigns surprise, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to convey her embarrassment. “Oh my goodness!” She cries before shifting her attention to their guests. “Janet. Mallory. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m afraid my little boy isn’t fully toilet trained yet.” “I can see that.” Mrs. Peters replies, her face aghast. “My…what a mess.” “I’m afraid raising him lately has been quite the challenge.” Michelle opines, reaching over to grasp her supportive hand. “It’s been hard, keeping Connie’s little secret like this. But it’s also necessary – the diapers, I mean. The poor boy has lost all control.” Their gaze strays towards a betrayed Connor, watching as he sinks to the ground. His body is wracked with heartbroken sobs. “I told you I had to potty!” He wails, falling on his back and kicking his feet. “Mommy, I told you!” “Does he always throw tantrums like this?” The older woman asks, her lip curling in disgust as she witnesses the young man behave worse than a toddler. “Sometimes.” His stepmother confesses with a sigh. “I thought we’d gotten a handle on it. But today’s been a big one for Connie. I imagine he’s a little overstimulated, but you can be sure it will be addressed before I put him down for bed tonight. Once she feels as though he’s suffered enough, Michelle finally gives Daphne the order to take him back to his bedroom for a much needed diaper change. Unfortunately, it does little to soothe the man’s severely wounded ego. But when his sister picks him up and sets him on his feet, he doesn’t protest. Lips trembling, a soggy and defeated Connor dutifully follows her to his bedroom – otherwise known as his nursery. Decorated in a symphony of pinks and purples, it had everything one might need to care for a precious little baby. Like him. “Aww, c’mon Connie. Don’t cry.” His sister coos once she reaches his adult-sized changing table, clearly not in the mood to deal with his theatrics. “You should’ve known this was gonna happen. You haven’t been able to stay dry on your own for months.” “But I told Mommy I had to go potty.” The young man pouts. “I told her and she didn’t listen. Instead she made me go ask Deliliah.” “That’s because Mommy was busy talking to the grown-ups. Any other boy your age would’ve been able to hold it much longer than you did back there. All you did was prove what the rest of us already knew – that you’re just not ready to be an adult. Now hop up. I’ve got shit I need to do.” “No.” Comes his defiant grunt. “I can change myself.” “No, you can’t. You know the rules.” One strong hand shoots out, taking a hold of his wrist and dragging him closer. “Now, I’m going to give you one last change to climb up here before I decide to do something to really embarrass you in front of Mrs. Peters and Mallory. Is that what you want?” As upset as he was, Connor is also keenly aware that his sister isn’t joking. Diaper changes were already a humiliating affair – both his sisters and stepmother made sure of that. What with all the constant teasing and taunting as they took their time wiping him clean of whatever mess he’d made in that moment. And to make matters worse, sometimes his little soldier tended to have a mind of its own, often creating the illusion that he was enjoying his mistreatment. Still holding back tears, he finally allows Daphne to help him onto the table. Once seated, she makes quick work of removing his sweats before beginning to undo the snaps of his now damp onesie. “Woah, baby boy.” She chuckles when she finally gets a good look at his thoroughly soaked diaper, taking a moment to pat his padded crotch. “Looks like somebody did a big wee-wee, huh?” Connor feels his face go scarlett as he forces himself to look away. He couldn’t believe this was his reality right now, especially when they had company just down the hall. And to make matters worse, his sister had left his door wide open, leaving him and his soiled diaper in plain view of whoever might be walking by. “Let’s get you into a dry diaper.” Daphne murmurs, her voice containing a hint of both sweetness and mockery. “Then you’ll be all better. Well, until Mommy decides if she’s going to spank your little bum bum for throwing such a big tantrum.” She doesn’t bother trying to mask her giggle as she shoves his favorite pink pacifier between his frowning lips. Then she goes to remove his onesie, lifting it over his head before moving on to his diapered-prison. Now completely naked, he can’t help the shiver that courses through him as the cool air makes contact with his bare skin. But he knows better than to try to hide or cover himself. According to Michelle, babies didn’t concern themselves with trivial things like modesty. “And there’s Mr. PeePee.” She takes a moment to study his tiny member, which is something she did fairly often. “Still tiny I see.” She muses as she reaches for a wipe. “But I like this little purple ribbon he’s wearing. It makes him look extra cute!” The young man can’t help but flush when he feels his penis twitch of its own accord, as if enjoying the praise. “Did Mommy do that for you? Or was it Delilah?” He struggles not to jump when the cold wipe finally makes contact with his heated flesh, starting with his thighs before slowly and meticulously making its way toward his hairless balls, sitting on prominent display like two plump little peaches. “Delilah.” He whimpers through his binky, willing himself to remain flaccid as he’s forced to remember how she’d taken her time dressing up his little member with the help of one of her many colorful ribbons. In an unusual act of defiance, he’d actually balked when she’d initially tried to put it on him this morning. Then he’d made the mistake of telling her to “go fuck herself”, which in turn had sent her off to find Michelle while he was mid-change. Both women had returned moments later, with his sister sporting a knowing smirk and his Mommy wielding his new wooden paddle. “Mmm…” Daphne’s ministrations then move to his increasingly sensitive member. Pausing to grab a fresh wipe, she begins gliding it up and down his unimpressive cock. Squeezing his eyes shut, Connor is just about to beg her to go faster when he’s interrupted by the sound of someone new entering the room. “I–I’m sorry.” The quiet voice squeaks. “I guess I must’ve gotten lost on the way to the bathroom.” It was Mallory. She was here. Now. In his bedroom. Watching him while he lay on his back, naked and exposed, with his legs in the air while he finished getting his diaper changed. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. “It’s no problem – little Connie and I are almost done.” His sister chirps. “Aren’t we, baby boy?” Connor refuses to answer, preferring to let the silence stretch between them as shame and embarrassment seep out of every pore of his scrawny body. Meanwhile, Daphne continues to absentmindedly stroke him while engaging with their new guest. “Sooo…” Mallory drags out the word as she takes a tentative step closer, allowing herself a better look at her former classmate’s predicament. “Is this why you left school, Connor? I mean, everyone was talking about how your Mom kept them from kicking you out by homeschooling you, or whatever. But I’m pretty sure nobody would believe this…” “It’s a long story.” Daphne interjects on his behalf, before expertly gripping his ankles and lifting his bottom in the air, showing off the remnants of his morning discipline. “But suffice to say that this is his new life now. In fact, it has been for months.” She gently lowers him back onto the table, making a point to splay his quivering thighs even wider than what was really necessary. “Now that his secret’s out, he can focus on what’s really important. And that’s becoming a better, more humble, version of himself.” Her long fingers go to tickle the soft skin of his belly. “Isn’t that right?” “I…should probably leave you guys to it.” “Oh, it’s okay – seriously.” His sister responds dismissively as he sucks harder on his pacifier. “Privacy is a thing of the past for this guy.” She reaches down to grab a tube of cream and gives it a hearty squeeze, using her hand to thickly coat his butt, balls, and dick with the stinky paste. “Sorry about the smell, Mal. But the last time this baby ended up with a rash he was super fussy.” “I’ll bet.” Mallory murmurs, more to herself than anyone else, as she continues to process everything she’s seeing and hearing. “So does he use his diapers all the time?” And now that they were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, Connor wanted nothing more than for a sinkhole to open up in the floor of his nursery and swallow him whole. “All day, every day.” Daphne confirms. “I’m afraid the potty is off limits to Connie until he can be trusted not to have an accident or make a mess. He never was very good at aiming.” Her tone takes a conspiratorial turn. “Or at wiping his own butt for that matter. I’m sure you can only imagine the constant state of his underwear.” “So he…uses them too? Often?” “He does. These days it seems like he’s constantly wet. But sometimes he has a little trouble going number two.” She shrugs, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. Funny enough, she and Connor were both aware that she was dragging out this whole diaper change business. But there was nothing he could do about it. “But Mom keeps a special stash of suppositories on hand which always seem to work wonders on his stubborn tummy.” Nodding in understanding, Mallory allows herself to take a few more tentative steps into the nursery. She makes note of the crib and playpen, as well as the various blocks and toys that littered the floor. Later she would be forced to admit to her diary that she had found the entire scene to be utterly fascinating. “Are you the only one who—who changes him?” “Eh, my sister and I take turns. And my Mom helps out a lot too.” Hands dry, she reaches for the baby powder, liberally applying it to his crotch and bottom. “She does most of it, actually. Mom is usually the one to feed him and bathe him and stuff. And baby Connie here is thankful for that, otherwise he gets his bottom spanked. Like he did this morning.” At long last, Daphne finally grabs a diaper and places it under him. Meanwhile, Connor continues helplessly nursing his binky, all the while willing his unruly member to stand down. But it was almost like the closer his former classmate got, the more the stupid thing insisted on waving to get her attention. All three and half inches of it. “And does that always happen?” Mallory asks, her eyes focused on his cock. “Is it normal for him to be so…excited? Sorry for all the questions, but this is all new to me. I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” As if finally noticing the young man’s discomfort, she tries to offer him what she hopes comes off as a supportive smile. “Sometimes.” Daphne concedes with a shrug, barely concealing her smirk when she sees a bead of precum leak from the tip of his swollen member. Instead she gives the other girl a playful nudge with her shoulder. “It doesn’t happen as much as it used to. He’s probably trying to show off since you’re here.” She lifts the front of his diaper before proceeding to securely fasten the tapes. “Not very impressive, I know. But it comes with the territory. If it ever gets to be too much, we call in Mom for back-up and she takes care of it.” Satisfied with her answer, Mallory ventures over to Connor’s crib. She runs her fingers along the bars as she observes the various stuffed animals strewn across the mattress. Next she makes her way to what appears to be an adult-sized rocking horse, her eyes going wide when she realizes that the man on the table most likely really did play with all of these toys. Toys that were intended for babies. “Can I ask who else knows about this?” She asks as she finds her way over to his chest of drawers. There’s no malice behind her questions, no cunning. Just genuine curiosity. Throwing caution to the wind, she takes her time opening each one, and is surprised when she finds a treasure trove of onesies, plastic pants, footy pajamas, bibs, and more. Jesus Christ. If anyone else at school found out about this, Mallory was pretty confident that Connor would never be able to live this down. “You’re the first. Well, you and your Mom, I suppose.” Spinning on her heel, Mallory watches as Daphne lifts her former classmate off the table before helping him into a new shirt. But she doesn’t allow him any pants. Perhaps because she believed there to be no point. His secret was out. At least where she was concerned. “Go on and play, baby boy.” A smiling Daphne shoos him away, continuing to ignore his pathetic little sniffles. “Big sis needs to finish talking to your friend, Mallory.” Left with no other option, Conner ambles away. This time choosing to hide in the confines of his adorable little playhouse. “If no one else knows, then why are you telling me? Aren’t you the least bit concerned that I might go out and tell everyone about what I saw here today? Connor would be…a joke.” Just as Daphne is prepared to respond, someone else manages to beat her to the punch. Her eyes dart to the door as her Mother and Mrs. Peters make their way into the nursery. “I’m afraid little Connor was already a joke long before he found his way back into diapers.” Michelle interjects cooly. “Breaking the law, causing mischief, being rude and disrespectful to the female members of this household…none of that makes you a real man. So, I’ve decided to give him another chance to grow up. The right way.” She saunters over to the entrance of the colorful playhouse, before yanking open the door. Reaching inside she all but drags a squealing Connor out by his ear. “We’re going to keep him like this until we’re sure he’s learned some discipline. As well as some respect for the women both inside and outside of this house. No self-respecting girl in this town or the next is going to give this naughty baby the time of day once they learn they might end up having to change his poopy diapers.” Of course, the subject of the discussion remains quiet as he continues to nervously suckle his pacifier. Mallory can’t help but wince as she witnesses the interaction. Because even though he had the reputation as being a bit of a self-serving prick, he’d never given her a hard time. Probably because she was on the nerdy side and always agreed to help him with his science homework. He would never see her as a potential love interest – a fact she had resigned herself to a long time ago. In his eyes, she was just the help. Eventually, she hears her own mother clear her throat. “This sure is a lot to take in, Michelle. And are you sure he was part of that group of vandals who tee-peed my house last halloween?” Mrs. Peters looks down her nose at the embarrassed young man. “It took us days to clean that up. And the eggs you miscreants threw ruined the finish on my husband’s car.” “I’m afraid so.” Michelle admits, her lips morphing into a delicate frown. “However, I can assure you that that kind of delinquent behavior is a thing of the past. But while we have you both here…” She plucks the binky from Connor’s mouth. “What do you have to say to these two lovely ladies? Speak!” At first, Connor struggles to answer. And he finds it almost impossible to meet their expectant gaze. That is until he hears his stepmother ask Daphne to go fetch the hair brush. “I’–m sorry, Mrs. Peters. A–and I’m sorry to you too, Mallory. For the mess.” While he knows it’s bad form to rush an overdue apology of this nature, his competing need for self-preservation has him stumbling over his words in an effort to finish before his sister returns. “F–for the toilet paper, and the eggs. That was wrong of me, and I’m so grateful that my Mommy is teaching me how to be a better, more upstanding citizen.” He tacks on the last part, hoping that it might earn him some brownie points. Both Mother and daughter exchange cursory looks as they mull over his apology. “Well, young man…” Mrs. Peters begins after a moment. “That was very, very naughty of you. Had I known you were behind it, I would’ve marched to your door and demanded you clean it up the very next day.” Awash with shame, Connor bows his head and simply prays for the moment to be over. All of this was too much for him to handle. If anything, he’s grateful when he’s once again allowed to have his binky. “But I am glad that your Mother finally has you on the right track.” She turns her attention back to Michelle. “And as for your earlier question, I suppose I’ll have to talk it over with Mallory, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Plus, I’m pretty sure she could use the extra cash, what with summer just on the horizon.” At that particular moment, Daphne barrels her way back into the room, her manicured hands holding the dreaded hair brush. “By the looks of it, I’m guessing you won’t be needing this?” She smirks when she notices Connor’s tear-stained cheeks. “Not until after our guests leave.” Taking the brush, his stepmother makes a show of resting it on his changing table. “But what you can do is say hello to little Connie’s new babysitter.” Clapping her hands in excitement, she takes the liberty of wrapping her arms around the girl and bringing her in for a hug. “She said yes?” His sister squeals, obviously pleased with this new development. “Not yet.” Michelle releases a stunned Mallory before taking a step back to give her a little more breathing room. “But I can tell she’s thinking about it. And perhaps I should add that the pay is negotiable.” The chatter continues, swirling around Connor with such a force that would’ve easily knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t already been sitting on the floor. He just couldn’t believe that in the span of one day – in no more than a handful of hours – he’d lost what little control he’d had left over his life. And now that Mallory and her Mom knew, he was certain that it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world found out. Overwhelmed by the ferocity of his emotions, he releases a despondent wail as he begins to rapidly fill his diaper. The quiet hiss of urine causes the ladies in the room to suddenly go silent as they watch his padded crotch expand in real-time. But try as he might, he can’t stop the nervous flow. “I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Mrs. Peter’s words come on the heels of a surprised chuckle. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it.” Taking Michelle’s hand in her own, she offers a sympathetic squeeze. “Of course you have our discretion. Not that this young man deserves it – but this is obviously a very delicate matter.” Unfortunately, for a still-weeping Connor, his stepmother doesn’t appear to be moved by the other woman’s promise of privacy. “Oh, we don’t mind if people find out. That’s part of the reason we invited you.” She hauls him up to his feet before making a show of checking the back of his diaper for the disaster she was almost positive was on its way. A nervous wee-wee was nearly always followed-up by a nervous poo-poo. Another humiliating fact she had no problem sharing with the group. “Since I know Daphne just changed you, we’ll wait until you finish making stinkies before we even bother with getting you into a fresh diaper.” Looking back at his friend and her mother, she goes on to continue her earlier conversation. “Little Connie is going to need a babysitter this summer. My girls and I each have our own lives and pursuits, so we decided to enlist some help. They say it takes a village after all. Therefore, it’s only inevitable that others in the community are bound to find out.” She then proceeds to usher everyone out of the nursery in favor of returning to the living room, all the while keeping a solid grip on her stepson’s slim wrist. Patting his swollen bottom, she directs him a fresh set of blocks she had previously set in the corner. “We’ll know when he does his business.” Michelle prattles on as she and the other three women have a seat on the couch. “He usually gets on all fours, squats and grunts – it’s a whole production, really. But back to my proposal…” Mallory immediately perks up, her brilliant green eyes swimming with interest. “How soon would you need me to start?” “Ideally, as soon as possible.” His stepmother picks up her once forgotten glass of wine before taking a slow sip. “I’m well aware that these are a…” She casts another withering glance in Connor’s direction. “...shall we say, unique, set of circumstances. But what’s needed is needed. While school’s in session, I’ll need you a minimum two days a week, four hours a night. As well as every other Saturday, for six hours a night.” “That’s doable.” She adds a small slice of quiche onto her empty plate. “And the rate?” “I’m thinking $25 on weekdays and $35 on weekends. Of course…there’s always the possibility for more. I have no doubt that you’ll make a great fit.” Mallory takes a bite of her food, chewing slowly as she mulls over the offer. No matter how odd, there was no denying the fact the money was too good to ignore. At this rate, if she accepted, she’d have no problem saving up for college in the fall. Nodding to herself, she places the plate on the table before extending her hand to her brand new employer. “Alright, Michelle.” She beams, feeling grateful that she had agreed to accompany her mother this morning. “I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal.” END (PART THREE COMING SOON) Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Little Bee: Chapter 1 Note: this story takes place in the world of “Classified: A New Life” as written by Brutal_Ink. I hope that I can do justice to their wonderfully creative work and compelling world setting. Credit as well to @destinedfordiaperstories on Tumblr for expanding the world with their phenomenal story “Sammy’s Little Problem” Classification Day. If there were two words that struck more dread into the heart of an 18 year old, nobody had spoken them yet. Classification Day, also known as the last day of Senior Year, was the day that every high school senior would find out what their future would look like. The graduating class received their test results today, and would be classified as Caregivers, Littles, or Neutrals based on a wide variety of testing of genetic markers, enzymes in the blood, and various other measurements, profiling, and characteristics, both biological and mental. The CGL Gene that was discovered after the evolutionary shift in humanity that had become known as the Great Mutation usually began to manifest after the age of 18, so the school year was scheduled to end shortly before graduating students would begin to see the changes their genetics would make to their bodies and minds, which is why test results were given out towards the end of the last day of school. Caregivers developed powerful instincts to care for those in need, as well as higher physical strength to aid them in this task. Caregivers often, but not always, adopted Littles and made sure they were happy and safe. Those that did not adopt always pursued careers that cared for and protected others. Littles were the opposite, they found themselves regressing to an earlier stage of childhood and losing varying degrees of muscle mass, motor skills, emotional regulatory abilities, and toileting skills as most found themselves effectively incontinent and irrevocably requiring diapers at all times. Level 1 Littles regressed the most, and were essentially infants. Level 2 Littles retained the vast majority of their motor skills and other faculties, their largest sectors of regression being a complete loss of potty training and significant reduction of their ability to keep their emotions under control. Tantrums were common among Level 2 Littles, and they all needed diapers as well. Level 3 Littles regressed the least, retaining much of their emotional control as well as their potty training in many cases. While some still needed diapers, many level 3 Littles needed only Pull Ups for the occasional accident, as well as nighttime, with some even being able to wear normal underwear. Neutrals saw no changes, and were essentially the same as Humans before the Great Mutation, accounting for slightly more than half of the total population. Jamie Holbrook stood in the school’s Common area, feeling a bit of trepidation. She was quite attractive, many would say cute. Petite, slender, and a Ginger, Jamie stood only 5 feet, 2 inches (157 cm) tall and weighed around 108 pounds (49 kg) if she were soaking wet and had a brick in her pocket. Jamie’s alabaster skin was dotted with freckles, and she wore her red hair in twin braids. Behind her oval-rimmed glasses, her green eyes were focused on the pristine white envelope she held. She was about to see what the future held when a piercing shriek resonated through the Commons. Apparently, Chelsea Taylor, known as the Queen of Mean, had received her results. Chelsea was one of those kids that had everything handed to them, and didn’t know what honest work even was. Chelsea’s family was wealthy, and she herself was stunningly beautiful. Tall and blonde, she knew how gorgeous she was, which was probably the root of her long list of character defects. She was an entitled, spoiled brat that thought she was better than everyone else and frequently asked if they knew who she was or who her father was and had tormented Jamie’s small circle of friends from as early as First Grade. Like Jamie, Chelsea came from a long line of Neutrals, so the results of her being a Neutral as well were all but guaranteed. Furious, she stomped up to the lab technicians that had been charged with distributing the test results. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? There is NO WAY this is right! Do you not even know how to run a blood test?” she demanded to a woman wearing a lab coat, her black hair in a tight bun. “I’m sorry, Miss…” “Taylor! CHELSEA TAYLOR! Do you know who I am?” This kind of scene was all too common on Classification Day. When someone couldn’t accept what their test results were, the responses were usually grief or extreme anger. One could teach a college level course on the Five Stages of Grief simply by observing students on Classification Day. Clearly, Chelsea was still in the first stage: Denial. The lab tech had seen this exact scene play out time and time again, a scene Jamie was watching. “No, Miss Taylor, I don’t know who you are. What seems to be the problem?” the tech asked, knowing perfectly well what the problem was. Right on cue, Chelsea moves into the second stage: Anger. “It’s these bullshit results! Level 1 Little? With all the Neutrals in my family? How could you get something so simple this wrong?” she shouted. Blinded by her anger, the Queen of Mean had no idea she had just spilled the most delicious tea that this class of Seniors had ever heard as she continued her tirade. Chelsea was one of those unpopular popular girls that was firmly entrenched in the top 5% of the social hierarchy, with the other 95% hating her due to her entitled attitude and Godzilla-sized superiority complex. Jamie noted that Chelsea had moved into the third stage: Bargaining. She was making good progress. If she had applied herself this much to her studies, the academic world would be losing quite the scholar with her soon transitioning into a Level 1 Little. “There…there has to be some mistake, right? This isn’t supposed to happen, maybe….maybe you could run the tests again?” The lab technician sighed heavily. This part was never easy. “Miss Taylor, I understand that these results are upsetting, it’s only natural. However, I can assure you that, as difficult as this is to hear, they are accurate. Our testing is exhaustive, the results triple-checked for accuracy. However….” the tech writes down a number on a sticky note and gives it to the fallen princess. “If you call this number you can request further review. For now, I suggest you report to the Nurse’s office, as you will need to be properly diapered before you leave here, you will begin to see changes very soon, so you had best be prepared. Good day.” Jamie couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. Where was this lab tech all her life to smack Chelsea down when she was….well, being Chelsea? The now-deposed Queen of Mean lowered her head for probably the first time in her life and shuffled by Jamie and a few other onlookers, having moved on to the fourth stage: Depression. All of them wore expressions of sympathy and pity. Chelsea was a bitch, sure, but nobody deserved this. Her life was essentially over, she would spend the rest of her days as a gurgling infant. The only upside being that she would more than likely no longer remember what she had lost as she endlessly emptied jars of baby food and filled her diapers. She glared at Jamie and hissed “I suppose you think that’s funny?” Before Jamie could respond with something even remotely decent, that any normal human with a shred of compassion or empathy would say, her best friend in the world, Leon, showed that he had woken up today and chosen violence. Leon Black was as nice a guy as you’d ever meet. A loyal and protective friend with long blonde hair and blue eyes, he was always trying to get Jamie to laugh. However, he had a tongue that could cut like a surgeon’s scalpel, and he wielded it with similar precision. He wasn’t one of the popular kids, which is why he and Jamie were friends. That said, nobody messed with him for fear of getting flayed to the bone by his lightning wit. By Sophomore year, he had turned so many of his classmates who had tested him into laughingstocks, the kids that liked to pick on others had decided it was best to just leave him alone. Leon was a wordsmith, and he did not hesitate to serve a plate of gourmet roast to people that clearly had it coming. The boy had simply never met a bear he didn’t want to poke with a sharp stick. Luckily, Leon could also fight, so his fists could cash the checks his mouth wrote. “Come on now, Chelsea, it’s not that bad! I mean, you’ve had people waiting on you hand and foot your whole life, what’s even gonna change,” Leon paused to take a sip of his soda, “besides your diapers, that is?” he said, the brazen teenager clearly getting payback for all these years of Chelsea making their lives tough. Chelsea couldn’t believe it, that this smartass…..NOBODY….would dare speak to HER like that. She opened her mouth to respond, but thought twice and instead launched a slap at Leon’s face. Unfortunately for Chelsea, Leon’s reflexes were almost as quick as his wit, and he swayed back out of range, the Queen of Mean’s attack completely missing him. “Hey! We don’t hit!” Leon shouted in the same tone a parent would use to admonish an unruly child. “Don’t worry Chelsea, no doubt Gucci makes some really cute onesies and frilly diaper covers. You’ll be just as fashionable as ever, I’m sure!” Rather than continue her fruitless battle against an unconquerable foe, Chelsea concedes defeat, but not before making one last attempt to save some of her soon-to-be nonexistent dignity, once her days became focused on bottles, burping, baths, and blowouts. “If someone like ME is Level 1,” she spat, “Then there is no way that a smart-mouthed, evolutionary dead end like you could possibly be anything else but Level 1 as well.” She then turned on her heel and stormed off towards the Nurse’s Office, where further humiliation in the form of a thick, fluffy diaper awaited her. “Aight, cool, see you at daycare!” Leon called after the departing Chelsea, who paused for a second, then continued on, having clearly entered into the final stage of grief: Acceptance. Jamie, who had been holding her laughter, immediately started in on Leon. She began playfully swatting at her razor-tongued best friend as she laughingly scolded him as she so often found herself doing. “You asshole….you unbelievable asshole,” she said, her voice a loud whisper mixed with laughter. “Chelsea’s as awful as they come, but not even she deserved that! What if YOU end up Level 1?” After parrying the last of Jamie’s assault, Leon grins and laughs before speaking. “Bitch please, I could be classed a Level -100, and revert to a sperm cell they have to inject back into my old man’s nutsack, and that would have still been worth it. If I’m a Level 1, I would meet my fate proudly, for I have at long last slain the Queen of Mean, and now I am awaited in Valhalla. I shall ride eternal, shiny and chrome.” Leon says while posing dramatically with his easy, warm laugh, referencing the film Mad Max: Fury Road. “WITNESS ME!” This is why Jamie loved Leon’s rogueish charm. He treated her as the little sister he never had, even though they were the same age. He always knew how to make her laugh. “You…are SUCH a prick.” Jamie retorted, letting some of her own laughter free of the pit she was forced to banish it to. “Don’t you know Little Abuse is illegal? Forget prison, you’re going to HELL, and I’m going with you for saying this, but that was awesome, Leon.” She couldn’t explain why, but she felt nervous today. At the start of the day, she wasn’t worried about her results. She came from a line of Neutrals even longer than Chelsea, but with what happened to her, a small seed of fear had crept into her heart. “You got your results?” she asked her friend. “Right here,” Leon said, holding up his white envelope. Leon’s family had a pretty good variety of Littles, Neutrals, and Caregivers, so there was a very real chance that he would end up in daycare with Chelsea. For all his cavalier attitude and jovial nature, Jamie knew her friend better than anyone. He was terrified, his joking and boasting a cover. Leon was no fool, he knew what was at stake here. He took a deep breath, and tore the envelope open. With shaking hands, he unfolded the sheet of paper. Leon read the document, his eyebrows raised, then furrowed. Jamie respected Leon’s privacy enough to refrain from trying to peek at the sheet he was reading, but the confusion he felt was unmistakable. “Dude….what the….what the hell?” he asked rhetorically. “Leon, what does it say, man? I know it doesn’t take that long to read one word and maybe a number,” Jamie said. In response, Leon flipped the paper around so Jamie could read it. Written plainly on the sheet was Leon’s Classification: BLACK, LEON JAMES: CAREGIVER. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jamie said, surprised but not that much. “I don’t get it,” Leon said, more confused than anything else. “I’m a soulless monster, not a Caregiver.” Jamie rolled her eyes and sighed, her frustration with her clueless friend peaking. “Dude, have you just not been paying attention for like, your ENTIRE life? Looking back, you’ve had Caregiver signs the whole time I’ve known you.” Jamie said. Leon’s confusion has not yet been pierced. “That’s crazy, what do you mean?” “Well, think about it, you’ve been looking out for me for as long as I’ve known you. When we were kids, and your mom would take us to the pool, who kept on me to keep applying sunscreen so my little Ginger ass wouldn’t get cooked? It was you, Leon. That time in 3rd grade when I forgot my lunch, you shared yours with me. When I stayed over at your house, and that big storm knocked out the power, and I was freaking out because I’m scared of the dark, who was there for me? You, stupid. When I broke my arm Freshman year, you carried my books. Who picks me up every morning for school because I don’t have a driver’s license? You.” “That’s because you’re my best friend, Jamie. You know I love you and I got your back, right?” Leon retorted. “It’s more than that man, you take care of EVERYONE. Yes, you’re an asshole with a smart mouth that I am REALLY surprised hasn’t gotten you killed at this point, but that’s just a front. I KNOW you, we can’t hide from each other. When it REALLY counts, when it REALLY matters, you come through 10 times out of 10. You’re a freakin’ rock, dude,” Jamie explains. Leon nods as he recalls all the moments Jamie reminded him of and realizes that she is right. “Yeah…you’re right, you’re SO right. I’ve always just wanted to help, I guess now I know why.” “Duh.” is all Jamie says. She hands her envelope to Leon. “Here, open that and tell me I’m a Neutral.” Leon takes the envelope and chuckles, “Yeah, right,” he says while opening Jamie’s envelope. After opening the sheet of paper containing the biggest non-spoiler in the history of Classification Day, Leon’s eyes widen for just a moment, then he gets a devilish grin on his face. “You want your results? Come get ‘em!” he says as he takes off down the hallway, away from the Commons. What Jamie doesn’t see are the tears in Leon’s eyes as she takes off after him, shouting “HEY! NO FAIR!” Leon leads Jamie to an empty part of the school hallways, not far from where their former lockers now stand empty, and comes to a stop. Jamie catches up, grinning, and punches him on the arm. “Dick,” she says with a laugh. She takes a moment to catch her breath, and notices that Leon isn’t laughing, he ALWAYS laughs his fool head off when teasing her like this. The seed of fear in Jamie’s heart has now taken root. “Hey man, what’s your problem, what’s….Leon…what’s going on?” she asks, worried. Jamie has known Leon long enough to where she knows when he is and is not messing with her, and the rogueish trickster’s demeanor is completely serious. He takes Jamie’s hand into his and looks into her green eyes. “Jamie, I brought you here because I didn’t want you to find out in the Commons and act up like Chelsea. You’re a Little,” he says, his heart breaking for the cute redheaded girl that has been his best friend from the time they met. They had never even considered dating, because they were too much like brother and sister and didn’t want to make it weird. “I’m sorry.” “What? That’s stupid, I’m gonna get you for screwing with me like this, and I’m ESPECIALLY gonna fuck you up for making me run, and…” Leon cuts Jamie off by simply shoving the piece of paper with her Classification into her hands so she can see for herself. There it was, in plain black and white, unmistakable and final: HOLBROOK, JAMIE LYNN: LEVEL 2/ LEVEL 3 HYBRID LITTLE What little color Jamie naturally possesses in her face vanishes, her features as pale as moonlight. She wasn’t going to shout and curse like Chelsea, but it still didn’t seem real. Her family had been “Oops, All Neutrals” for so long she had begun to question if she even HAD a CGL Gene. With all the subtlety of a haymaker to the face, Jamie now knows that she does, and she knows her CGL Gene’s plans for her future. As the inevitable tears begin to fall, Leon wraps his arms around the petite redhead. Standing at an even 6 feet tall, 10 inches taller than Jamie, he engulfs her in his arms and holds her head close to his chest. At this moment, Leon realizes that he truly is a Caregiver. His heart is torn to shreds for his friend, as he tries to remember lessons and protocol that he only half paid attention to in class. “It’s ok, Jamie, it’s ok, I’m here.” Leon didn’t know much about this whole Hybrid business, but what he DID know was that every Little was sent home in either a diaper or a Pull Up. Accidents were quite common, especially with the anxiety and heightened emotions the Classification of Little tended to cause. Leon knew that the Nurse’s Office was their next destination, before Jamie had an accident herself. Jamie had begun to panic, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged as tears continued to stream down her face. Her voice is meek and timid as she looks up to her friend that could continue to take his first steps into adulthood, while she would never get the chance. Instead, Jamie would be returning to the days of having her diaper changed and early bedtimes. “Leon…what am I gonna do? My dad…he….he HATES L-Littles. He’s a meanie, always…saying such awful things, and…and, there are no Caregivers in my f-f-family to…to take care of m-me. I don’t wanna wear a diaper….” Jamie says between her sobs, her last statement close to whining. Leon can’t explain it, but he KNOWS what to do. His instincts guide him, and he tightens his embrace on Jamie and softly reassures her while stroking the back of her head. “Shhhhhh…..it’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetie. Just listen to my heartbeat, ok? Maybe this Hybrid stuff means you won’t need diapers or something. There’s some Level 3 in your Classification too, you know? We can ask the School Nurse when we see her. Let’s catch our breath, and go there now, think you can do that for me?” he asks, his voice a gentle caress. It becomes clear to Leon from Jamie’s recent use of “no fair” and “meanie” that she is already showing signs of the early stages of her transition, and what she asks him next galvanizes his assessment. “Why?” she asks him timidly. “You know why, Jamie,” he responds. “She’s gonna want to DIAPER me, I don’t need it, I’m not a baby,” she says indignantly. “I know, but they won’t let you leave without protection. I know you don’t need it, but we have to see the nurse. Let’s see if we can get by with a Pull Up, ok?” Leon says to try and placate his friend. “No. I don’t want to. I don’t…” she begins before Leon cuts her off. “Jamie,” he says firmly, “this isn’t something you can refuse. Look, if you fight and try to delay, you’ll only be proving that you DO need to be in a diaper. However, if you play along and don’t fuss, I’ll bet you the Nurse will think a Pull Up is all you’ll need. Come on, honey, work with me here and let’s split the difference, ok?” Jamie hated this so much. She hated how scared and alone she felt, she hated that she had to impose on Leon like this, and most of all, she hated that he was right. She sniffled one last time as she somehow managed to bring her tears under control, and nodded in agreement. “You….you won’t tell anyone what I’m wearing, will you?” Jamie asks sadly. Taking Jamie by the hand and gently leading the stunned, unsteady girl towards the Nurse’s Office, Leon shakes his head. “Come on now, you have to know that I’d never do that to you. We’ve kept each other’s secrets for years, why would I stop now?” “It’s not gonna be a secret for long…” Jamie says, feeling a pout coming on. Leon nods. “Well, when you're right, you're right I suppose. We can deal with that later. For now, it IS still a secret from everyone except you, me, and pretty soon the nurse, so let’s take advantage of the distraction Chelsea so generously provided to make a clean getaway.” Jamie nods as the two friends approach the Nurse’s Office. Mercifully, it is nearly deserted, as all the other Littles have reported in and gone home. Jamie realizes that Leon’s little prank of running off with her Classification results wasn’t just to lure her away so she could hear the news privately. He did it to give the crowd of new Littles needing diapered time to thin out at the Nurse’s Office, so that Jamie could face this trial free of prying eyes and have just a few precious extra moments to prepare herself. Such a shame, she thought, that he wouldn’t be eligible to adopt a Little for several years. He was taking to the role wonderfully, even at this early stage. Still holding Jamie by the hand, who by now has assumed the timid demeanor of a child in trouble, Leon opens the door and gently guides her in. The school nurse, seated at her desk and tapping away at her computer, no doubt updating the student medical files with their new Classifications, looks up at the newcomers. “Well, I thought all the new Littles had already all been seen,” she says in a friendly manner as she gets up and approaches Leon and Jamie. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this over with as soon as possible. Can I please see your Classifications so I know what to get you?” Leon goes first, showing his Classification papers. “Uh, I’m just here to help. You know, support my best friend through a tough time?” he says. The nurse smiles warmly at the kindhearted (but acid-tongued) young man just beginning his journey. “I can already see that you’re going to be a wonderful Caregiver, Mr. Black. If you choose to adopt a Little when you’re able, it’s the most wonderful thing. It isn’t always easy, but it is very rewarding,” she says while Leon nods and subtly steps back while nudging Jamie forward. Figuring out that she’ll need to diaper Jamie, based on the crestfallen teenager’s silence and very noticeable desire to hide, she feels a great swell of pity for the cute redheaded girl. The nurse loved caring for Littles, but seeing them on Classification Day, when they had just had their entire lives upended and their futures rewritten, stolen, some would say, was the absolute worst part of the job. It killed Caregivers like herself to see these kids at this moment, when they needed a hug the most but were still too proud or angry to accept it. “Thank you, Mr. Black, I’ll take it from here. If you could wait outside and close the door, I’ll have your friend ready to go in no time at all. Isn’t that right, Ms…..” Jamie stood silently before realizing that was her cue to speak. “Oh...um…H-Holbrook. J-Jamie Holbrook” she says as she raises her arm to hand over her Classification paperwork. Jamie breaks down in tears and confesses “I’m a Little….” The Nurse’s Caregiver skills and instincts are so finely tuned she has Jamie wrapped in a hug before she can finish her statement, hoping to head off a major breakdown. Jamie does not resist, instead returning the Nurse’s gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s ok, sweetheart, it’s ok. I know everything seems so hard right now, and you may not believe me, but it does get better. It really does, I promise you.” The Nurse takes a look at the shaking, sobbing teenager’s paperwork while still holding on to her. She raises an eyebrow at the unusual Classification results. “A Hybrid? I’m sure that’s very confusing, but it’s not unheard of. Now, let’s get you all set, I imagine you’d like to get home and get some rest, hmm? It’s been a pretty big day after all, but it’s almost over. All the buses will have left by the time we’re done here, so do you have a way to get home safely?” the Nurse asks as she disengages the embrace and takes a step back to size up Jamie. She measures the new Little visually to see what size and style of diaper is right for her. Managing to bring her sobbing under control, Jamie answers the Nurse’s question. “Uh…yeah. M-my friend, Leon, he’s who I came in with. He…he picks me up for school and takes me home. He’s…he’s really good to me. I uh, I don’t have a driver’s license.” The Nurse steps over to a cabinet and opens it. Predictably, it is filled with various kinds of diapers in various sizes. She continues the conversation as she starts extracting various supplies. “Well, that’s for the best. All Littles have their driver’s licenses rescinded when they register as Littles, so that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Okay sweetheart, I need you to get your shoes and pants off, then hop up here so we can get this done” she says, patting the examination table and holding a plain white diaper that Jamie did not doubt would fit her perfectly. “FUCK! This is it!” Jamie thinks to herself as her fight or flight response chooses flight. She backs away from the table, stammering. “W-w-w-wait…just….just a minute…..” she squeaks out. They always did this, every one, every time. As soon as that diaper comes into play, the desperation kicks in. The Nurse sighs, her heart aching for this scared young girl. Still, she didn’t have time for this. “Jamie, honey, I know that this is really upsetting, but I also know that you know that this is going to happen, one way or another. Think of your friend, Leon. Do you really want to have an accident in his car while he’s taking you home, after he’s been so good to you and helped you get through today?” Jamie, threatened with the diaper, jumps at the Pull Up. “I know…it’s just….I’m not ready. I know everyone says that, but….can…can I have a Pull Up instead?” Jamie asks. “Jamie, your Classification is as a Level 2 and 3 Hybrid. We don’t know which aspects are going to be at what levels. It’s too early to say what kind of protection you’ll need, if any. I just want to play it safe, and start at the top. If it’s more than you need, you can step down to something lighter, and there won’t be any messes to clean up. Work with me here, sweetie. These are actually really soft and comfortable once you get used to them. I have to get SOMETHING on your bottom before you can go” the Nurse reasons, trying to lower Jamie’s anxiety before she suffers an embarrassing accident. “I know….I know, you’re right. It’s…just…can’t we go in the opposite direction? Start at the bottom with what goes on my bottom, and I can go up if I need it? I’ll clean up any messes, honest,” she pleads. The Nurse finds what Jamie says next absolutely soul crushing. “Please…please let me pretend I’m still a big girl for a little while longer…” The Nurse’s Caregiver instincts take over, seeing a way for Jamie to salvage at least some dignity from the situation while still getting the adequate protection the redheaded Little requires. “Ok Jamie, we’ll do things your way,” she says, seeing Jamie’s expression brighten just a little bit by the Nurse letting her have her way. “Here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to give you a Pull Up, and I want you to put it on. While you’re doing that, I’m going to put a little starter kit together for you. I’ll give you a few diapers, some Pull Ups, wipes, and powder. This will give you a better idea of what you’ll need when you go to the Little supply store. You can wear what you want, but promise me that if those Pull Ups aren’t enough, you’ll change into a diaper. Tonight, when you go to bed, I want you to strongly consider a diaper. Most Littles need more protection during the night, so please just work with me here, ok honey?” Jamie nods eagerly, ready to comply if it will keep her out of diapers for even a few more hours. She hops up on the examination table, and begins to untie her shoes. As she kicks off her sneakers, the Nurse wordlessly glides by and places an unfolded Pull Up on the table, remaining close in the event her aid is required. Jamie stands, and unbuttons her pants before sliding them down her legs, leaving her in just her t-shirt, socks, and panties. Jamie picks up the clean white Pull Up and examines it, but can’t quite figure out which side goes in the back. She looks to the Nurse, her expression asking for help. “It’s like this, this mark here on the waistband goes in the back, and the longer parts of the stretchy sides are also meant to go in the back, see?” She says before continuing her lesson on basic Pull Up features. “The seams on the side are tear-away, so it’s easy to take off once it gets wet.” She runs her hands up through the leg holes, and stretches the absorbent underpants out while kneeling down. “Now, take off your panties, and step in, please” Still preferring this to an outright diapering, Jamie slips her underwear down her legs and steps into the Pull Up. The Nurse slides it up her legs, and pulls it up tight against Jamie’s petite frame. She then shows the Ginger Little how to run her fingers along the leak guards to make sure those are sitting properly. Jamie is mortified, but complies nonetheless, knowing what the alternative is. “There we are, all snug and protected, as all Littles should be,” the Nurse says with a smile as Jamie bashfully examines her new underwear and moves to get accustomed to the feel. “Feels like…like a really big pad,” Jamie says, wincing. “Still, it’s not so bad. You were right, it does feel really soft.” “See? I told you it would be ok.” the Nurse says as Jamie pulls her jeans back on over the Pull Up and buttons her pants. She then picks her shoes up and finds a chair, and quickly slips them back on before tying the laces. As she is busy with her shoes, the Nurse comes over with a box. “4 Pull Ups and 4 diapers in your size, powder, and wipes. You will need to get to a Little supply store and get some diapers either tomorrow or the next day. I know this seems like a lot, but it can run out really fast if your potty control slips too far, and the Pull Ups aren’t enough. So once you have a general idea of what you need, get to the store, ok honey?” the Nurse tells a furiously blushing Jamie as she hands the box over. As Jamie turns to finally leave, the Nurse has one last thing for the new Little: a red lollipop. “Here, take this as a reward for not fussing too much, I promise it will make you feel better. You can even have it right now,” guessing from Jamie’s shy behavior that she will be the kind of Little that likes to be given permission. Jamie takes the lollipop and thanks the Nurse for her help. She’s still embarrassed to have been essentially diapered by the gentle Caregiver, but knows that in the back of her mind, in the places she rarely has the bravery to go, she’s right. She unwraps her reward and begins to suck on the sweet red candy, and in spite of herself, must admit that it is both very tasty and is already beginning to calm her frayed nerves as she moves to exit the office and rejoin Leon. What she does not know is that the candy is actually laced with a mild anti-anxiety medication meant to calm new Littles on this, the first day of their new lives, and make them better able to handle the difficult conversations and harsh truths that are to come.

18-year-old Benjamin has just been evicted from the college dorms after he has failed out of college for the semester. He sits in the student lounge with his bags while he figures out his next moves. His former professor Megan is talking to her faculty friend and sees him sitting alone. She is confused because he is supposed to be in her class for the semester. "Hi Ben. I missed you in my class this semester. Are you okay?"

This story follows a 13 year old boy from England, who’s life is about to head in a totally unexpected direction. Tommy’s Trials Chapter One - Calm before the Storm Tommy was like any other 13 year old boy in England. He went to school, played video games, loved football, and had few cares in life. The boy lived a very normal life, but all that was about to change. “Wake up Tommy, it’s time for school!” shouted Mum Groggily, the lad rubbed his eyes and threw off his covers. He pulled off his grey Pokémon pajamas, allowing them to pool on the floor, with Pikachu’s yellow figure smiling back at him. Tommy loved Pokémon, even if the other kids thought it was too babyish now. He grabbed his grey school shorts, white shirt, clip on tie, black blazer, and prepared to put on his regular ensemble. It was the first day back at Riverside High School, and the summer break was over. The boy had so much fun, and now was the return the monotony of secondary school. “I made you boys some toast” said mum, as Tommy walked into the kitchen. “Thanks mummy!” squealed Tommy’s little brother Riley. The 7 year old boy was always full of energy, despite the fact it was 8am. The boys ate breakfast and prepared to leave, their emotions greatly contrasting each other. “Let’s go Riley, we’re gonna be late” exclaimed Tommy, grabbing his little brother’s hand. So they set off, with their first stop being Riverside Primary for Riley. Tommy was a good big brother & walked his annoying sibling to school every day. They arrived at Riley’s school, just a five minute walk away from Tommy’s. The boys hugged and said goodbye, but not before the supervising teacher stumbled upon them. She was new, the boys had never seen her before. “Okay boys, come on, school starts soon, get yourselves inside” said Miss Lisa, ushering them inside the great gates. Tommy instantly realised what was happening. The uniforms were similar and his secondary school blazer was in his bag, the teacher had mistaken him for a primary school kid. Tommy was small for his age, often mistaken for much younger than he was. The two brothers were similar in size, and many adults believed them to be twins at first glance. “I don’t go to this school” Tommy glumly replied, “I’m in high school”. “Oh I’m so sorry, I thought you were another one of our boys” apologised Miss Lisa. “Apology not accepted” thought Tommy, he was sick of being mistaken for a little kid, wondering when he would finally have a growth spurt. So Riley marched in excitedly, and Tommy left for Riverside High. His eyes set on the familiar ancient blue gates, a lighthouse guiding the way for ships of tired sailors in the dark morning. He mentally prepared himself for the first day of school, unknowing of the crashing waves which were about to sink his life into a totally different direction.

Vicky Williams had a worried expression on her face. She was sitting on the sofa worried that her 20 year old daughter wasn’t socialising enough and was working too hard on her college work. Vicky was a 37 year old brunette mum. “She really needs to get out and meet her friends and stop spending all her time doing her work” I head up to Ellie’s bedroom and knock on the door “Ellie?” Ellie is pouring over notes and mounds of books. Her heavy glasses are sitting on my nose. She hears her mum calling through the door. “Mum, not now. I need to study for the quiz next month. It's important." I say trying to zone you out but I know it's not that easy. Last month, you tried taking me out to go out and meet people for half an hour. I refused as I wanted to really study for college and I wanted to get great grades. I shook my head and got back down to studying. “Ok hun. I was just saying that I’m going to the shops and I’ll be there awhile'' Ellie doesn't hear anything and Vicky heads downstairs and grabs her purse. She gets in the car and drives to the local supermarket. As Vicky approaches the entrance, there are people handing out leaflets. One of them hands her one and she looks at it while going in. ‘All stressed out? Want to relax? Well take a relaxing day at our ‘feel young spa and health centre. You'll feel like a new you.’ Vicky smiles and thinks that Ellie would love that. She put it in her pocket and finished the shopping. 1hr later Vicky puts the bags in the car and drives home still thinking of the spa. She parks the car and puts the shopping away, head up to Ellie’s room. “Ellie, I saw this when I was shopping. Though you could do with it” she says, sliding it under the door. Ellie doesn't see it as she is in the zone. The clock chimes 11. Ellie looks at it and yawns. She wasn't finished with her studies but she was shattered. She got up from the chair and was about to flop onto her bed when she noticed the leaflet on the floor. It looks interesting and Ellie needs a break but she needs to finish this assignment. She puts it onto her bedside table and flops onto her bed and is out like a light. When Ellie woke up the next day, her body aches and her legs feel like lead weights. “God I'm aching, my body feels like I've been to the gym during the night.” She sits up in bed and looks over to her bedside table and takes the leaflet. “This looks really relaxing. I'll get mum to take me.” Ellie gets up and walks like a zombie downstairs. “Um, mum, can we go to the spa resort?” “Well, actually, I guessed you wanted to, so I decided to book us in today. I've signed us up for a few treatments too and I'm just waiting for you to have breakfast and then get dressed and we can go.” Vicky replied. Ellie nods and hurries up getting ready and 10 mins later both Vicky and Ellie are in the car driving downtown to the spa. 20 mins later, Vicky parks the car and both of them enter a big building. The building is an old huge mansion with the name ‘Feel Young Spa’ on the front. They go up to the front desk "Hello and Welcome to ‘Feel Young Spa’ the receptionist greets them. “Hello, we booked today. Our names are Vicky and Ellie.” The receptionist checks the computer. “Yes, right. That looks fine. If you don't mind following this gentleman here and he will take you to your first treatment.” We follow the man and are led into a tiled changing room with two white dressing gowns. “If you would like to take off your clothes and change into these dressing gowns and wait here, someone will be here for you shortly.” He leaves and we start undressing. We finished undressing and waited in the gowns. 5 minutes later, a woman entered the changing room. “Are you guys ready?" She asks and leads them into a room with two massage tables in the middle of it. “Ok, If you could lay down on your back and your waxing will begin soon.” She said, pointing to two tables. Vicky and Ellie lay down on the tables and wait patiently and 2 people walk through the door. “Right, who is Ellie?” Says one of them. She raises her hand. “Right you're mum signed you up for a full wax and relaxation package and Vicky you’ve got a waxing” says. “Can you put these towel round your waist?” We take the robes off and wrap them round our body. “To relax you further, please put on these headphones.” The lady places them on Ellie. On the headphones is peaceful, soothing music. Vicky looks over at Ellie and smiles that she is accepting this. Ellie winces a little bit every time that the wax strips are pulled off but the music keeps her relaxed. Ellie is so relaxed that she doesn't realise that the lady has finished waxing her and starting rubbing oil, herbs and chemicals into her body. Ellie smiles, enjoying it. What Ellie doesn't know is that Vicky has signed her up for the extreme mind stress reliever. This treatment uses hypnosis to mentally regress her mind to a much less stressful time and Vicky has chosen for her to become a 6 month old baby. Included in the package is treatments for Vicky. She will receive some drugs that will make her lactate and be able to carry her new baby. The lady taps Ellie on her shoulder and she opens her eyes and takes one side of the headphones off. “Yes?” Elle says. “Right I’ve put the oils on you so I’ll leave you to soak in them for 10 mins and I’ll be back. Lay back and I’ll check on you then”. The lady says as she starts to leave. She places the headphones back on and closes her eyes. She relaxes again, not bothering to look at Vicky who is talking to the lady. “When will her hypnosis take effect?” Vicky asks. “It will take effect once the clock hits midnight. Your changes will take effect once you get home” the lady says “also you ticked the home changes right?” She nods. “Right, when you get home, everything will be set up but don’t let her see till the next night.” I nod. The lady goes to Ellie and taps her on the shoulder again. “How do you feel? Do you feel relaxed and all nice?” She smiles and says “Oh yes. That felt brilliant. I needed that. I feel so relaxed and my skin feels so smooth and even down there feels nice. What’s next?” “Your next treatment is a mud bath, so get dressed in your gown and follow me” the lady said, opening the door. “Can I keep the headphones on while I enjoy the mud bath?” Ellie asks. “Sure, you wear them all day here” the lady replied. Ellie looked pleased. All three of them walk down the corridor and Ellie is still listening to the music. They all enter the room and there are mud baths full to the brim with mud. Vicky and Ellie slip off the gowns and enter the mud baths. The mud bath feels weird at first but it’s so relaxing. “I feel so relaxed mum. I’m glad we decided to come here.” Ellie says take your headphones off. “Well, I’m pleased to hear that cause you seemed so stressed with all that work. Now let’s soak still in the mud and enjoy the rest of our treatments” Vicky replied, closing her hers and disappearing under the mud. Ellie couldn't do that as the headphones would get dirty. About 30 mins later, the lady came back and told Vicky and Ellie that their session and treatment was over. Ellie took off the headphones and got into the showers and washed the mud off. “Mum you look great, your skin looks youthful.” Ellie says. “Thanks Ellie, you're not looking too bad either, looks like the oils and mud bath is doing your skin good” Vicky replies. A little milk trickles out from her breast but as she is showering, it gets washed away unnoticed. They dry themselves and head to the changing rooms. They head out past the receptionist. “Hope you had a great time. Please spread the word around that we are here” she says with a smile on her face. “Oh we had a lovely time, did we Ellie?” Vicky asks her daughter. “Oh yes, just what I needed. I’ll come again and spread the word.” Ellie says, smiling back. Vicky turns round and wink at the receptionist and she winks back. They head back to the car and arrive home a few minutes later. “I’ll get the wine and you switch on the tv and you choose the channel, Ellie” Vicky said heading into the kitchen. Ellie sits down on the sofa and switched onto an old episode of Friends. Vicky comes out of the kitchen bringing out 2 glasses of wine and hands one to Ellie. “We’ll just have the one glass and then bed ok?” “Ok mum” Ellie replies, raising the glass to her mouth. 20 mins later, the episode had finished, their wine was finished and both were tired. “Well, it’s bedtime. Let’s go, Ellie” Vicky says, getting up from the sofa. “Ok mum, I’m coming” Ellie says groggily. They head upstairs into each of our rooms. The moment Ellie disappears into her room and shuts the door, Vicky sneaks into the spare room to see what the spa people have done. She opens the door and Vicky's heart flutters. The room has been emptied of all the junk and replaced with the cutest baby furniture. It would be for a baby but it’s for Ellie instead so it’s bigger than normal. The room has been painted pink with cartoon animals painted over the walls. There is a white cot along one of the walls and above that is Ellie’s name in grey letters surrounded by a white cloud. In the corner is a nursing chair and a stool. The changing table is white like the cot and on it is a pink changing mat with white hearts. Underneath it, is stacks of diapers, wipes and baby powder. On the floor is a pink rug that covers the floor. Standing behind her is a pink wardrobe. Vicky opens the doors and her heart melts again. Inside are the cutest onesies and dresses hanging up or folded. There is a second compartment with bows, booties and assorted items. Vicky closes the wardrobe and takes in the nursery. “I can’t wait to show Ellie this,” I say to myself. She quietly heads out and closes and locks the door and walks to her room and with a smile on my face, she goes to bed. Meanwhile in Ellie's room, she is having a weird dream. She is 6 months old and everyone is cooing and cawing at her. Ellie tries to talk but just gurgles and drools. She sees her mum come into view. Vicky reaches down and tickles her tummy and Ellie giggles. A strange feeling is in her tummy for a brief moment and a grunt escapes her. Ellie feels a squishy feeling in her bottom and a warm wet feeling around her crotch. She starts crying. Ellie suddenly wakes up looking around and sighing that it was just a dream. She glances over at the clock on the wall and sees that it is 11:00. She closed her eyes again and fell back to sleep again without dreaming again. One hour later the hypnosis starts working. Ellie starts to feel a bit uneasy and turns in her sleep. Gradually her thumb works its way up to her mouth and her thumb enters her mouth and she starts suckling it and Ellie calms down and eases in her sleep. The alarm clock goes off and Ellie opens her eyes. She realises that her thumb is in her mouth and she pulls it out. “That was weird and so was the dream. Anyway, time for breakfast”. She walks downstairs and spots her mum sitting at the sofa drinking her tea. Ellie decided not to tell Vicky about the weird dream, putting it down to the stress of her work. “Thanks for the spa day yesterday mum. I really needed it.” Ellie told her mum. “I feel well relaxed and I can get down and continue my college work.” Vicky stopped drinking her tea. “No worries but I really hoped you would relax a bit longer and take a break from your work.” Her mum looked worried. “I can’t do that mummy.” Ellie looked shocked that she said that and like a kid. “I mean mum. I have an important assignment due in 2 days and it will help me pass.” Ellie said, still embarrassed that she talked like a kid. Vicky acted like she didn’t hear it and just nodded. “Do what you need to do hun. Just remember to take breaks”. Ellie nods and gets her breakfast ready. She pours the cereal in the bowl and pour milk into it and takes it to her bedroom. She puts it on her work table and starts up her laptop and Ellie starts her work. Ellie is busy working on her laptop when an ache from her bladder signals that it’s time for the toilet. Ellie runs to the toilet, pulls down her panties and sits on the loo just in time. She felt that if she waited a little longer, she would have wet her pants. After emptying her bladder, Ellie wipes herself and pulls up her panties and heads back to her room to continue her work. Ellie's tummy rumbles and she reaches over to the bowl of cereal and starts eating and finishes the whole bowl and drinks the cereal milk. She wipes her mouth and continues with her work. Elle had just finished a chapter of her work, when her bladder signals that it's full. “Not again, I don't need it again now”. Another ache and she runs to the toilet again just in time as her bladder muscles release her wee as soon as her bottom hits the seat. “That cereal must have gone through me. Well I don't need to go for a while now.” Ellie cleans herself up and heads back to her room to finish the 2nd part of her work. Ellie sits down on the chair but suddenly stands up as she feels a small damp spot on her panties. Shocked on how she could have a damp spot as she's been toilet trained for 18 years. Ellie quickly whips off her panties and opens her drawer to wear a new pair of panties. She pulls up the new pair and looks at the damp pair asking herself if she should go down to her mum and tell her. After a minute, Ellie decides against it and tells herself that it's just probably just the stress of starting her college work again. She goes downstairs and goes into the living room and switches on the tv to de-stress herself. The tv channel is being changed and stops onto a show called New girl which she loves. 20 mins into the show, Ellie starts to get bored, which is weird as she is usually captivated by it, and she tries to reach down for the remote, she realises that her hand is stuck to her mouth and that she's been sucking on her thumb without her realising. She pulls it out, embarrassed “Why do I keep doing that? I'm not a damn baby! Maybe it's just all this stress with work”. Ellie grabs the remote and starts changing the channel until something catches her eye. Flashes of programs appear on the tv: a cooking show, a nature show, a baby show, a dog behaviour show and a shopping show. Ellie goes to the dog behaviour show and watches it for a few minutes. They are training dogs to do various tricks. Vicky enters the living room and sits beside Ellie. “What on?” “I’m watching a doggie pwogramme….. dog programme.” Ellie looks embarrassed at her speech slur but Vicky pretends not to notice it. “Cute. You finished your work?” “I just need a break mum but it’s nearly done” Ellie replied not taking her eyes of the dog show. As she was answering, a dribble of drool fell from her lips and fell onto her top. Ellie shook her head and wiped the remaining drool from her lips and wiped her top but it still had a drool stain. Vicky looked at Ellie with a mixture of excitement and anticipation with how well it’s progressing. Suddenly Ellie runs upstairs and quickly sits on the toilet and feels her bladder empty but something feels wrong. She suddenly realises that she hasn’t pulled her panties down and is now sitting on the toilet in soaked underwear. Ellie starts crying with her head in her hands. The door opens up and Vicky sees her daughter crying. “What’s wrong?” Ellie looks up and sees her mum standing there. “I forgot to pull my knickers down to wee and also this is the 3rd time I needed the toilet today. I think something is wrong with me! I need to see the doctor.” Vicky walks up to her daughter. “Right I’ll book one for the morning but take a nap and I’m sure you’ll feel better.” Ellie nodded her head but realised that her thumb was in her mouth again and started crying and hugged her mum. Vicky was smiling inside that the hypnosis is progressing nicely. She led Ellie (with difficulty as she was still hugging her) to the bedroom. They both enter Ellie’s bedroom and Ellie started changing her wet knickers and cleaning her legs with wet wipes while Vicky looks at her phone. “Right, that’s the doctors appointment booked for tomorrow afternoon. Let’s get a good night's sleep. I’m sure it’s just stress.” Vicky says hugging her daughter as Ellie puts on clean knickers. Ellie puts on a pink top and lays down on bed and Vicky exits the room closing the door. As she closes the door, Vicky smiles that the hypnosis is working and soon she’ll have her little girl back again. In the bedroom, Ellie is drifting off to sleep and as her eyes close, her hand makes its way up the bed and her thumb enters her mouth, starts sucking on it and drifts into a peaceful sleep.

Usually with commissions I don't start posting them here until the story is completed but the person I am writing for requested I post what I have written so far so I shall do so This is a re-write of an old story. The original story is here: http://thesissysnursery.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/my-brother-ritchie-chapter-1-problem.html?m=1 Unfortunately I am not sure the author of the original, if anyone knows then let me know and I will edit it in here. This is a commission and if you are interested in a commission then feel free to send me a message. --- Subliminal Baby By Elfy “But mum, everyone is going on this trip.” Steven whined. He stomped his foot on the floor like a child much younger than himself, at 18-years-old he was a little too old to be having a tantrum but he couldn’t help himself. He was sick and tired of being told no when his older brother, Ritchie, was always told yes. “Steven, a skiing trip sounds very dangerous. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you.” Karen, Steven and Ritchie’s mother was sitting with her children at the dinner table. The three of them had just finished eating and Steven was telling her how much he wanted to go on this school trip, it had been the same every evening for the last week. “Mum, I’m not a baby!” Steven said throwing up his arms in frustration, “All my friends are going. I’m the only one who hasn’t handed in the permission slip.” “If you aren’t a baby then maybe you should stop acting like one.” Karen shot back. Ritchie, who had otherwise been sitting quietly, let out a bark of a laugh. He knew that his mum was overprotective of Steven and he found his little brother’s frustrations very amusing to watch. Ritchie was everything that Steven wasn’t. Steven was small and unassuming, Ritchie was bigger and had much more sporting ability which made him very popular around town. Steven, on the other hand, was much more at home alone in his room working on his computer. “Shut up, Ritchie!” Steven yelled across the table. “Steven! Don’t shout at your brother.” Karen said warningly. “Tell him not to laugh at me then.” Steven said banging his hands against the table and causing the cutlery to rattle. “If you are going to keep having a tantrum like a baby, I’ll give you a spanking just like one.” Karen warned. Steven was dumbfounded at the injustice. Ritchie was trying to keep a straight face but his shoulders moving up and down betrayed how funny he found the situation. When Steven saw this he felt his anger rising again. When Karen looked away for a moment, Ritchie mouth the word “baby” at Steven. Steven lost control of his emotions, he reached back and went to swing at his older brother but as he tried to bring his arm forward he felt someone grab him tightly. Caught off-balance he was pulled around the table and into the lap of his mother. To Steven’s shock and horror, his mother easily held him in place with one hand whilst with the other she started spanking hard. Ritchie stared across the table wide-eyed and open mouthed as his younger brother was spanked at the dinner table, he could barely contain the laughter that he felt bubbling up inside. Steven willed himself not to cry as his mother rained down blow after blow on her son. He was in shock as much as anything else, the spanking wasn’t too hard and it didn’t hurt a lot but the surprise of suddenly finding himself in this position stopped him from trying to stop what was happening before it was too late and his mother had gained a firm grip of him. “You do not hit your brother!” Karen said through gritted teeth, each word was punctuated by another smack. She didn’t seem to see the irony in punishing her son with spanking as a way to tell him not to hit others. Through eyes clouded with tears, Steven caught the eyes of his brother and could see the amusement in his face at the predicament Steven found himself in. Steven balled his hands into fists as he fought to keep himself from crying openly. The spanking wasn’t particularly painful but it was very embarrassing, especially when he was trying to argue that he wasn’t a baby. Just as Steven felt his composure slipping the spanking ended and he gingerly picked himself up. Without a word he turned and headed away from the kitchen, he was upset and filled with anger at the injustice of being punished when his brother got away completely free. He didn’t want to stay in the dining room with his family because he was sure he would do or say something to get him in even more trouble. He stomped straight out of the room and to the stairs. Halfway up he paused when he heard a sound from the kitchen. He heard his brother laughing. He had half a mind to run back down stairs and go for him again but he just about controlled his emotions and instead would look for a subtler way for revenge. With tears in his eyes he and a face red from the humiliation of the scene in the dining room Steven stamped up to his room and slammed the door closed. Steven’s room was dominated by the large computer against the far wall. Steven had always been very interested in technology and was very well versed in both software and hardware, he spent most of his time fiddling with his computer in one way or another and was known at school as being rather nerdy. To the sides of the computer were shelves full of books and magazines, most of them technology related but also some fiction books as well. Steven walked over to his bed and gingerly sat down. His stinging rear end caused him to wince slightly as he reached to his bedside table and grabbed a can of coke which he opened and drank from. Steven was generally quite healthy but his one vice was coke, he couldn’t resist the sugary drinks. Placing the half-empty can back down he picked up the computing magazine that he had been reading before going down for dinner and he started reading again. It provided a good distraction from all the problems he was dealing with and he felt himself slowly relaxing as he read about various graphics cards and processors. As Steven read through the magazine he came across an unusual advert on the back cover. It was an advert for something called “Covert Subliminal Software.” Steven read the page with interest, he assumed it was a scam but something about the advert kept attracting his attention. He started to form an idea in his head, about using the software on his brother, what better way for revenge than making a message that forced Ritchie to do something embarrassing? Only a little thing though, he wasn’t cruel, he just wanted to teach Ritchie a lesson. Steven was broken from his ponderings by a knock on the door. He walked over and swung the door open to reveal Ritchie, he stood several inches taller than Steven and had a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. “What do you want?” Steven asked coldly. “I was just wondering if you needed tucking in tonight? Maybe have someone feed you a bottle?” Ritchie said in a mocking voice, he could barely stop himself from cracking up. “Get lost!” Steven growled through gritted teeth as he slammed the door. “Don’t throw a tantrum, baby!” Ritchie called through the door before laughing to himself on the way to his bedroom. “We’ll see who is a baby…” Steven whispered to himself. He walked over to his computer, went online and visited the website for “Covert Subliminal Software.” After hesitating for just a second he clicked “buy now” and was told the software was on its way. Steven smiled evilly to himself as he came up with the perfect plan for revenge, as soon as the package arrived he would show his family who the baby was. For a few days afterwards nothing of note happened. Steven kept mostly to himself as usual and made sure to wake up early enough to be the first to check the post every single day in the hope of seeing his package. Time did not diminish his want for revenge, if anything his need to get back at his brother only increased as his brother kept making thinly veiled comments, Steven simply kept his cool and waited. It was five days later when Steven looked through the mail as it was pushed through the letterbox and found the package he had been waiting for. It was instantly recognisable and Steven was glad to have got to the package first otherwise awkward questions may have come his way, the picture on the box showing a person in a chair and someone swinging a watch in front of them certainly would have caught the eye of Steven’s family. Steven had done a lot of research on the power of suggestion in the last few days. He knew the stereotypical picture of someone swinging a pocket watch and saying “you are feeling sleepy” was not how this stuff worked. Steven rushed back to his room with his parcel and ripped it open as soon as the door closed. Taking a drink of his cola he quickly read the pages of the instruction booklet and found that setting up these secret messages would actually be surprisingly simple. The instruction manual said to keep the messages short and easy to understand, shorter phrases resonate in the brain much easier and would be planted a lot quicker. Steven was still quite sceptical of the whole idea of subliminal messaging but the software was surprisingly cheap and it was worth the risk of investment because if it did work it would be the best revenge he could possibly get. Steven waited, he did some brief setup of the software on his own computer, it was surprisingly easy to set up and Steven suspected that even if he knew nothing about computers that he would be able to get it to work. He waited for his brother to leave, he waited for an opportunity to sneak into Ritchie’s room and set up the software. He was very impatient, he had a new toy to play with and having to wait before he could use it was almost intolerable. Finally, a few hours later, Steven saw Ritchie walk past his door with his coat on and a bag slung over his shoulders. As Ritchie walked past he saw Steven watching him and Ritchie paused briefly to give his younger brother the middle finger. “Going out?” Steven asked. He ignored the rude gesture and hurried over to the doorway as his brother walked away. “Unlike you, I have a social life, so yes I am.” Ritchie replied. Steven just nodded but as soon as Ritchie turned his back, Steven let out a devilish smile and ran back into his room to grab the USB stick that contained the subliminal software. Listening out for the sound of the front door closing he hopped from one foot to the other almost unable to contain his excitement. As soon as Steven heard the door close he practically ran to his older brother’s bedroom and straight over to his computer. Ritchie’s computer was not as powerful as Steven’s but it was just good enough to run Ritchie’s favourite online game, a first person shooter that he spent a lot of his free time on. Steven quickly logged in to the machine, he had guessed Ritchie’s password quite easily months ago, rather predictably it was his girlfriend’s name Linda. Steven logged in and immediately booted up the new software. He looked through the menus and adjusted a few things to his specifications. He clicked on the box that said “Message:” and after a moment of thinking Steven typed in “You are very thirsty for cola.” Steven chose an innocuous message at first, he wanted to test the software with something that wouldn’t cause any damage if it went wrong. Steven knew his more athletic brother never drank sugary drinks, but it was well known that Steven loved them. It would be a good test of the program’s power. He pressed enter and moved the software into the correct folder so that when Ritchie played his game that message would be flashed at him at quick intervals. It would be so fast that Ritchie wouldn’t notice it, but it would leave an imprint in his brain. Steven quickly turned the computer off, took his USB stick and retreated back to his bedroom. Now it was a case of waiting, he had to wait for Ritchie to come home and play his game. Steven, knowing it would be a while before that happened, loaded up his own game and began playing. Steven paused only to drink from his large cola supply as he passed the hours. He was impatient and hopped from one game to another, nothing could sustain his interest for long. Eventually he heard the front door open and close before hearing loud footsteps coming up the stairs, past Steven’s bedroom and to Ritchie’s own bedroom. Steven felt so excited, he was nervous as well as he sat in his room waiting to see what was going to happen. He wanted to run to Ritchie’s room and watch, to see if it was working, but he knew he had to act as normally as possible. If Steven started hanging around Ritchie’s room, then Ritchie would realise something was up. It was a full two hours, just when Steven was preparing to give up on the software working when there was a sudden knock on his bedroom door. Steven’s heart skipped a beat as he walked over to the door. “Yes?” Steven said as he opened the door to his brother. Ritchie had strangely wide eyes and he was salivating quite a bit. “Yo, this is a bit weird but do you still have that big stash of cola in here?” Ritchie asked. He was not acting like he normally did, there definitely seemed to be something weird going on. Steven was secretly elated. This was incredible! An act that was totally out of character for his big brother, an act that can only possibly have come from the suggestion of Steven’s subliminal software. “Yeah.” Steven said as he fought to keep his internal smile from showing. “Could I have some?” Ritchie asked. He smiled slightly but Steven got the impression that if he said no Ritchie would push his way in and take a drink anyway, he had a look in his eyes that suggested nothing would keep him away from the drink. Steven leaned over to where his bottles of cola were and picked up one of the smaller ones. He handed it to Ritchie who quickly unscrewed the lid and started drinking deeply from the bottle. Steven was shocked as he watched his brother, who didn’t like sugary drinks, drink the whole bottle in one go. When Ritchie was done he lowered the bottle from his mouth and let out an incredibly loud belch. Ritchie looked strangely content, a little trickle of cola had spilled out the side of his mouth but otherwise he looked normal and happy. Steven was quite unnerved by what he saw. “Boys! Dinner time.” Mother shouted from downstairs. It broke the awkward silence that was developing. Steven took the initiative and handed another bottle of cola to his brother before they headed downstairs. Dinner was quiet that evening. Steven spent a lot of his time watching Ritchie who took multiple liberal gulps of the cola. He had become like a fiend for the stuff, it was as if he couldn’t get enough. “Cola? That’s not like you.” Karen said to her older son. “I’m just really thirsty for it.” Ritchie said as he took another drink. That night Steven took a little while to get to sleep, he was thinking about what to do next. The subliminal software clearly worked, Ritchie had taken yet another bottle of cola with him to bed. There was no answer as to why that was happening other than Ritchie was successfully being manipulated. Steven decided that tomorrow he would change the message. The next day he would put his actual plan into action. It was time for revenge on his older brother, not to mention he didn’t want Ritchie drinking all of his cola!

Introduction The waiting room of the Riverside Fertility Clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and old magazines. Emily sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, knuckles pale, while Mark rested a steady arm around her shoulders. They had come expecting hope—perhaps a simple fix, a round of treatment, a timeline. Instead, the doctor’s quiet, measured words had landed between them like a stone dropped into still water. “I’m sorry,” Dr. Harlan had said, eyes soft behind wire-rimmed glasses. “The scarring from the childhood injury is too extensive. Natural conception isn’t possible, and even with intervention the chances are effectively zero.” Emily had nodded once, politely, as though someone had merely informed her that rain was expected later. Mark had asked the appropriate follow-up questions—his voice calm, practical, the way it always became in emergencies—but inside he felt the floor tilt. When they stood to leave, Emily’s legs carried her out of the office without a tremor, down the elevator, across the parking lot, and into the passenger seat of their sensible gray sedan. Only when Mark turned the key in the ignition did she finally speak. “I’m never going to be a mother,” she said, staring straight ahead at the windshield wipers that weren’t moving. Mark reached for her hand. “We’ll find another way. Adoption, surrogacy—whatever you want. We’ll figure it out together.” Emily turned to him then, and for a moment her eyes were bright with something fierce and brittle. “Together,” she repeated, as if tasting the word. Then she smiled—a small, careful smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of her face—and squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.” In the weeks that followed, Mark told himself the smile was progress. Emily went back to work at the library, kept the house tidy, cooked their favorite meals. She listened to his suggestions about counseling, nodded thoughtfully at articles on foster care, and even bookmarked a few adoption agencies. To anyone watching from the outside, they were a young couple bravely navigating disappointment. But in the quiet hours after Mark fell asleep, Emily lay awake staring at the ceiling, her mind circling the same unyielding truth: there would be no tiny fingers wrapped around hers, no first steps across the living-room floor, no sleepy midnight feedings. The future she had carried inside her since girlhood had been quietly, permanently erased. One night, deep into November, she found herself at the computer long after midnight. A search that began with “coping with infertility” led her down quieter, stranger paths. Forums filled with soft pastel icons. Stories of healing through pretend. Photographs of grown men in oversized cribs, eyes closed in something that looked disturbingly like peace. Emily read until the sky outside turned the color of weak tea. Then she closed the laptop, pressed her palms to her aching chest, and made a decision. If the world would not give her a child, she would find another way to become the mother she was meant to be. And Mark—kind, steady Mark, who had promised they would figure it out together—would help her. He just didn’t know it yet. Chapter 1: The Devastating Diagnosis The fluorescent lights in the Riverside Fertility Clinic hummed softly overhead, casting a sterile glow on the beige walls and the rows of outdated parenting magazines no one ever read. Emily Harper sat rigid in the molded plastic chair, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her wedding band pressed a pale ring into her finger. Beside her, Mark rested one arm along the back of her seat, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring circles on her shoulder. They had been married seven years—long enough to know each other’s silences—and today the silence between them felt heavier than any words. Dr. Harlan entered with a thin manila folder and a practiced expression of sympathy. He was kind, silver-haired, and spoke in the measured cadence of someone who had delivered this particular news far too often. “I’ve reviewed the latest tests,” he began, settling behind the desk. “The imaging confirms extensive scarring on both fallopian tubes and significant endometrial damage. The injury you sustained as a child—when you fell from that treehouse, I believe—has left irreversible effects.” Emily’s breath caught, a small, involuntary sound. Mark leaned forward, his free hand finding hers. “Is there any chance at all?” he asked. “IVF? Surgery?” Dr. Harlan shook his head gently. “The scarring is too severe. Even with aggressive intervention, the probability of successful implantation is effectively zero. I’m truly sorry.” The words landed like a quiet detonation. Emily heard them, understood them, and still felt them echo inside her chest as though someone else were being told. She managed a nod—polite, composed—while Mark asked the practical questions: timelines, second opinions, alternative paths. His voice was steady, the same tone he used when negotiating contracts at work or calming a panicked client. Emily watched his mouth move and marveled at how calm he appeared, how capable. Inside, she was already coming apart. In the parking lot, the late-autumn wind whipped dead leaves across the asphalt. Mark opened the passenger door for her, and Emily slid into the seat without a word. The engine turned over, the heater began to blow cool air, and only then did she speak. “I’m never going to be a mother.” The sentence hung between them, flat and irrevocable. Mark reached across the console and took her hand again. “We don’t know that yet,” he said softly. “There’s adoption, surrogacy—” “I wanted to carry a baby,” she interrupted, her voice cracking on the last word. “I wanted to feel it move inside me. I wanted the midnight feedings and the first steps and the scraped knees. I wanted all of it, Mark.” He pulled out of the lot and onto the main road, eyes fixed ahead. “I know,” he said. “I wanted it too. But we’ll find another way. Whatever you need, Em. We’ll figure it out together.” She turned to look at him then, and for the briefest moment something flickered behind her eyes—gratitude, yes, but also a raw, desperate hunger that Mark mistook for simple grief. Emily squeezed his hand and offered a small, tremulous smile. “Together,” she echoed. That night, after Mark had fallen asleep, Emily lay awake staring at the dark ceiling. The house was quiet except for the occasional creak of old beams settling. Down the hall, the spare bedroom they had once painted a soft butter yellow—intending it for a nursery—sat empty, its door closed like a sealed tomb. She thought of the treehouse fall at age nine: the snap of branches, the breathless drop, the searing pain that had sent her to the hospital for weeks. No one had realized then how completely it would rewrite her future. She had recovered, run and played and grown into a woman who dreamed of lullabies and tiny socks. And now the dream was over. Silent tears slipped down her temples and into her hair. She pressed a fist to her mouth to muffle the sound, but the ache inside her chest expanded until it felt large enough to swallow the entire room. Somewhere in the dark, an idea began to form—fragile at first, then insistent. A way to fill the unbearable emptiness. A way to mother, even if the world insisted she could not. Emily dried her eyes, rolled onto her side, and watched Mark’s sleeping profile in the glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. He had promised anything. He had said together. She would hold him to that promise. And in the weeks to come, she would discover just how far love—and grief—could carry a person willing to blur every line between healing and obsession. Chapter 2: Cracks in the Facade The days after the clinic visit passed in a muted blur, as though someone had turned down the color on the world. Mark threw himself into research—adoption agencies, surrogacy costs, support groups—printing pages and leaving them neatly stacked on the kitchen counter like offerings. Emily nodded at each new discovery, murmured “thank you,” and let the papers sit untouched. At work, Mark’s colleagues noticed little. He arrived on time, finished reports, smiled during meetings. Inside, however, he carried a constant low hum of worry. He watched Emily for signs of collapse—tears, rage, withdrawal—but she gave him none. She rose each morning, showered, dressed in her usual cardigans and sensible skirts, and drove to the public library where she catalogued returns and helped children find picture books. She even baked banana bread one Sunday, filling the house with the comforting smell of browning sugar. Only Mark, who knew her better than anyone, saw the small fissures. The way her gaze sometimes drifted to mothers pushing strollers on the sidewalk and lingered too long. The way she folded the yellow nursery blanket they had bought on impulse two years earlier and placed it at the very back of the linen closet, out of sight. The way she no longer reached for him in bed at night, turning instead onto her side, her breathing slow and deliberate until sleep finally took her. Emily, for her part, felt the grief like a second heartbeat—constant, insistent, impossible to ignore. During quiet moments at the library circulation desk, she found herself staring at toddlers waddling between the stacks, their padded bottoms swaying under overalls or leggings. She noticed the easy confidence of young mothers who lifted those children onto hips without thinking, who kissed sticky cheeks and wiped runny noses with casual tenderness. Each observation was a fresh twist of the knife. At night, when Mark’s breathing evened out beside her, Emily lay awake and listened to the house settle. She thought of the empty yellow room down the hall. She thought of the word irreversible. And slowly, carefully, she began to search. It started innocently enough: articles on coping with infertility, forums for childless couples, blogs about living a full life without parenthood. But the internet is a labyrinth, and one click led to another. A thread about alternative healing. A private message board for women grieving motherhood. A locked subreddit whose title made her pause, then click anyway. There, in the glow of the screen at two in the morning, Emily discovered stories she had never imagined existed. Grown men in cribs. Pastel nurseries hidden behind ordinary suburban doors. Women who spoke of caregiving as salvation, of healing through pretend. Photographs—carefully cropped, always consensual in the telling—showed thick diapers printed with childish patterns, oversized pacifiers, bottles filled with milk. The language was soft, intimate, laced with words like comfort and surrender and little one. Emily read until her eyes burned. She told herself it was curiosity, nothing more. She told herself she was simply desperate for anything that might ease the ache. But deep inside, in a place she did not yet acknowledge, something stirred—an idea, fragile and dangerous, taking root. Mark noticed the late nights. He found her asleep at the computer one morning, the screen still open to a minimized browser window. When he gently woke her, she smiled up at him with tired eyes and said she’d been looking at adoption profiles. He kissed her forehead, relieved, and thought nothing more of it. During the day, Emily functioned perfectly. She helped a six-year-old boy find every book about dinosaurs in the children’s section. She recommended cozy mysteries to an elderly regular. She ate the lunch Mark had packed—turkey sandwich, apple slices, a handwritten note that read I love you always. She smiled at the note, folded it carefully, and slipped it into her pocket. But in quiet moments, her mind returned to the forums. To the women who described the peace they found in nurturing someone who needed them completely. To the photographs of grown men curled in laps, eyes closed, faces slack with trust. One evening, as Mark washed dishes after dinner, Emily stood at the kitchen window watching the neighbor’s porch light flicker on. The young couple next door had just brought home their newborn; she could see the soft glow of a night-light through their curtains. “Mark,” she said quietly, not turning around. He glanced over his shoulder, hands still in soapy water. “Yeah?” “Do you ever think about… what we’ll do with all the extra time?” Her voice was careful, almost casual. “No school plays, no soccer games, no college funds.” Mark dried his hands and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “We’ll travel,” he said. “See places we’ve always talked about. Maybe get a dog. We’ll be okay, Em.” She leaned back against him, eyes fixed on the neighbor’s window. “I know,” she whispered. But in her mind, she was already imagining something else entirely. Something that would fill the yellow room. Something that would let her be the mother she was meant to be. And Mark—loyal, loving Mark—would help her. He just didn’t know how yet. Chapter 3: A Desperate Proposal December settled over the house like a heavy quilt. The neighbors strung Christmas lights along their eaves, and the young couple next door brought home a tiny, decorated tree that glowed softly in their front window each evening. Emily watched it from the kitchen while washing dishes, her hands moving automatically through the warm water. Inside her chest, the ache had grown sharper, more insistent, as though grief itself were a living thing pacing the corridors of her heart. Mark tried everything he could think of. He booked a weekend getaway to a bed-and-breakfast in the mountains, hoping crisp air and quiet trails might lift her spirits. He suggested they volunteer at the children’s hospital, reasoning that giving love to other babies might ease the loss of their own. He even printed adoption paperwork and left it on the nightstand with a hopeful note. Emily thanked him for each gesture, kissed his cheek, and carried on as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed. The late-night searches had become a ritual. After Mark fell asleep, Emily slipped downstairs in her robe and opened the laptop. What began as cautious curiosity hardened into something closer to hunger. She read stories of couples who had found solace in unusual ways. She studied photographs of nurseries built for adults—cribs wide enough for a grown man, changing tables sturdy and high. She learned new words: caregiver, little, regression, surrender. Each term lodged in her mind like a small, bright seed. She told herself it was research. She told herself she was simply looking for anything that might quiet the endless, circling pain. But in the privacy of those glowing hours, Emily began to imagine. She pictured Mark—broad-shouldered, capable Mark—curled against her, trusting and small. She pictured herself rocking him, feeding him, soothing him the way she would never soothe their own child. The fantasy brought a rush of warmth so intense it frightened her, followed immediately by a wave of guilt. Yet the image returned night after night, growing clearer, more detailed, until it felt less like fantasy and more like necessity. By mid-December, Emily had made her decision. It would be temporary. It would be private. It would heal her. And Mark, because he loved her, would understand. She chose a Tuesday evening for the conversation—ordinary enough that it wouldn’t feel staged, close enough to the weekend that they could begin gently. She cooked his favorite meal: roast chicken with rosemary potatoes, green beans almondine, the smells filling the house with familiar comfort. Mark came home tired from work, kissed her hello, and loosened his tie as he set the table. They ate in near silence at first, the clink of silverware loud against the quiet. Mark talked about a project deadline; Emily nodded in the right places. When the plates were cleared and they sat with cups of tea, she reached across the table and took his hand. “Mark,” she said, her voice soft but steady, “I need to ask you something. Something important.” He looked up, immediately alert to the tremor beneath her calm. “Anything. You know that.” Emily drew a slow breath. Tears welled quickly—she had practiced this moment in the mirror and knew they would come. “I can’t stop thinking about the baby we’ll never have. It’s eating me alive. I’ve been reading about ways people cope—different kinds of therapy, role-playing, things that let you grieve by… by experiencing what you’ve lost, even in pretend.” Mark’s brow furrowed, but he stayed silent, letting her continue. “I know it sounds strange,” she went on, a tear slipping down her cheek, “but I think… I think if we could pretend, just for a little while, that you were our baby—if I could take care of you the way I’ve always wanted to take care of a child—it might help me let go. Just temporarily. Just until the worst of it passes.” Mark stared at her, processing. The word baby hung oddly in the air between them. He waited for her to laugh, to say she was joking, but her eyes remained earnest, glistening with fresh tears. “Em,” he said carefully, “what exactly do you mean by… pretend?” She squeezed his hand. “Nothing extreme. Just at home. Maybe you wear… special clothes at night. Diapers, onesies—things like that. I’d feed you a bottle, rock you, take care of you. Only after work and on weekends. We’d set rules. We could stop anytime.” Mark’s mind raced. He had heard of role-playing in bedrooms, but this felt different—deeper, sadder. Yet the desperation in her voice was unmistakable. He thought of the nights he’d held her while she cried silently into her pillow. He thought of the yellow room gathering dust. He thought of his promise: whatever you need. He swallowed. “If you think it will help you heal… I’ll do it. For you.” Relief flooded Emily’s face, bright and sudden. She stood, came around the table, and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, pressing her wet cheek to his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s only temporary. Just until I’m okay again.” Mark reached up and covered her hands with his. “We’ll set boundaries,” he said firmly. “Nights after work, weekends only. And if either of us wants to stop, we stop—no questions.” “Of course,” she agreed quickly, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll order some things tomorrow. Plain ones, medical ones—nothing too childish. We’ll keep it simple.” That night, as they lay in bed, Mark stared at the ceiling and wondered what he had just agreed to. It felt surreal, slightly embarrassing, but harmless enough if it eased her pain. Beside him, Emily curled against his side, her breathing deep and even for the first time in weeks. In the dark, she allowed herself a small, private smile. It would be temporary, she told herself. Just long enough. Chapter 4: First Steps into Fantasy The package arrived on a Thursday afternoon, discreet brown cardboard with no logos, no hints of what lay inside. Emily signed for it at the door, her pulse quickening as the delivery driver handed over the box. She carried it upstairs to the spare bedroom—the yellow one—and set it on the dresser that had once been intended for tiny folded clothes. With careful fingers, she sliced the tape and unfolded the flaps. Inside were two packs of plain white medical diapers, thick but unprinted, and three soft cotton onesies in neutral gray and pale blue. Nothing overtly childish—no cartoons, no bright colors—just functional, adult-sized items that could pass for medical necessity if anyone ever saw them. Emily had chosen them deliberately, telling herself it was for Mark’s comfort, for realism, for keeping things gentle. She ran her hand over the crinkly plastic of a diaper, feeling the padded bulk, and a shiver of something—anticipation, guilt, relief—passed through her. This was only pretend, she reminded herself. Only temporary. Mark came home at six-thirty, loosening his tie as he stepped through the door. The house smelled of simmering tomato sauce; Emily had made spaghetti, his favorite comfort food. He kissed her hello, asked about her day, and noticed the faint flush in her cheeks but attributed it to the stove’s heat. After dinner, they lingered at the table with cups of tea. Emily’s fingers toyed with the handle of her mug. “The things came today,” she said quietly. Mark nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach. “Okay. So… tonight?” “If you’re ready,” she answered. Her voice was soft, hopeful. “We can take it slow.” He reached across and covered her hand with his. “I’m ready.” Upstairs, Emily had laid everything out on their bed: one diaper unfolded, a plain gray onesie beside it, a bottle of baby powder, wipes, and a simple glass bottle filled with warm milk mixed with a mild adult nutritional formula she had ordered online. Nothing fancy—just whole milk with a scoop of vanilla-flavored supplement to make it richer, creamier. Mark stood in the doorway, feeling suddenly awkward in his work shirt and slacks. Emily turned to him, eyes bright. “You can undress in the bathroom if you want privacy,” she offered. He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We’re in this together, right?” She smiled, grateful, and watched as he stripped down to his boxers. The room was warm; the radiator clanked softly. Mark’s skin prickled with self-consciousness as he stepped out of his underwear and stood naked in the lamplight. He was thirty-four, fit from weekend hikes, but in this moment he felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity. Emily patted the bed. “Lie down for me?” He did, stretching out on his back, arms at his sides. The mattress dipped as she sat beside him. She unfolded the diaper with a soft crinkle that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. Mark stared at the ceiling, feeling heat rise in his face as she lifted his legs gently, slid the padding beneath him, sprinkled powder with careful shakes, and brought the front up between his thighs. The tapes fastened with small, decisive rips. It felt thick. Bulky. Foreign. He shifted slightly and heard the unmistakable rustle of plastic. Emily smoothed the tapes, checking the fit, then helped him sit up and guided his arms through the onesie. The soft cotton stretched over his shoulders and snapped closed between his legs with a row of metal snaps. She adjusted the fabric so it lay flat over the diaper’s bulge, then sat back to look at him. Mark glanced down at himself—gray cotton, obvious padding beneath—and felt a rush of embarrassment so acute he almost laughed. Almost. “You look…” Emily searched for the right word. “Safe,” she finished, her voice catching. Mark met her eyes and saw the truth there: gratitude, wonder, a fragile kind of peace. Whatever this was doing to his pride, it was doing something far more important for her. He reached for her hand. “Come here,” he said. She crawled onto the bed and settled beside him, pulling him gently until his head rested against her chest. The bottle appeared in her hand—warm, the nipple soft latex. Mark hesitated only a second before opening his mouth and accepting it. The milk was sweet, creamy, comforting in a way he hadn’t expected. He suckled slowly, eyes closing, one hand resting on her waist. Emily cradled him, rocking slightly, her fingers stroking through his hair. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks—not from sadness this time, but from a sudden, overwhelming sense of fullness. For the first time since the clinic, the ache inside her quieted. She was holding someone who needed her completely. She was nurturing. She was, in this small, strange way, a mother. They stayed like that for nearly an hour. When the bottle was empty, Emily set it aside and simply held him, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing against her. Mark, warm and drowsy from the milk, felt the diaper’s bulk between his legs and the soft press of the onesie, and told himself it was bearable—more than bearable—if it gave her this peace. Eventually, she kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. He looked up at her, cheeks faintly flushed. “We’ll keep it light, yeah? Just nights and weekends. Temporary.” “Temporary,” she agreed, smiling softly. But even as she said it, Emily felt the idea settle deeper inside her, warm and certain. This was only the beginning. Chapter 5: Weekend Baby Time Saturday morning arrived with pale winter sunlight filtering through the bedroom curtains. Mark woke slowly, aware first of the unfamiliar bulk between his legs and the soft press of cotton against his skin. For a disoriented second he thought he had dreamed the previous nights, but the faint crinkle when he shifted confirmed it was real. Emily lay beside him, already awake, watching him with a quiet, tender smile. “Good morning,” she whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. Mark cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious in the gray onesie. “Morning.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “How did you sleep?” “Fine,” he said, which was mostly true. The diaper had felt strange at first, but the warmth of her body curled against his had lulled him into deeper sleep than he’d had in weeks. “You?” “Better than I have in months,” she answered honestly. They lingered in bed a little longer, talking softly about nothing important—the frost on the windows, the coffee she would make. Then Emily sat up, enthusiasm brightening her face. “It’s the weekend,” she said. “We can take our time.” Mark nodded, pushing down the flutter of nerves. He had agreed to this—nights and weekends only—and he meant to see it through. Emily’s happiness was worth a little discomfort. Downstairs, she prepared breakfast while Mark showered and changed into a fresh diaper and a clean blue onesie. The routine already felt less awkward than the first night, though the thickness between his thighs still forced a slight waddle that made his cheeks warm. When he appeared in the kitchen, Emily turned from the stove with a delighted smile. “There’s my sweet boy,” she said softly, opening her arms. Mark stepped into the embrace, letting her hold him. She smelled of vanilla and coffee, and for a moment he simply rested his head against her shoulder, allowing himself to be held. They ate pancakes at the table—Emily cutting his into small pieces without asking, and Mark discovering he didn’t mind. Afterward, she led him to the living room where she had arranged a nest of blankets and pillows on the rug in front of the fireplace. A stack of children’s books waited on the coffee table—simple stories with bright illustrations that she had borrowed from the library “for inspiration.” Mark hesitated, then lowered himself carefully onto the blankets, the diaper crinkling loudly. Emily settled beside him, pulling him gently until his head rested in her lap. She opened the first book—The Velveteen Rabbit—and began to read in a low, soothing voice. He listened, eyes half-closed, surprised by how relaxing it was. Her fingers combed slowly through his hair; the fire crackled softly. The story’s gentle melancholy about love and becoming real touched something in him he hadn’t expected. When she finished, she closed the book and simply held him, rocking slightly. Later, they played quiet games—stacking soft blocks she had found in the attic from her own childhood, rolling a large rubber ball back and forth. Emily praised every small accomplishment with warm enthusiasm, and Mark found himself smiling despite the absurdity of it all. The day unfolded slowly, unhurried. Lunch was grilled cheese cut into triangles, eaten on the rug with sippy cups of apple juice. Emily prepared another bottle for his afternoon nap, warming the enriched milk just as she had the night before. Mark lay on the blankets while she fed him, the nipple familiar now. The milk was sweet and filling; drowsiness crept in quickly. Emily stroked his cheek, humming a lullaby she half-remembered from her own mother. Within minutes, he was asleep. He woke an hour later to an odd, warm sensation. Disoriented, he shifted—and felt the unmistakable heaviness of a soaked diaper. Heat flooded his face. He had wet in his sleep without realizing it. The accident was small, but undeniable. Emily was reading nearby. She looked up immediately, reading his expression. “It’s okay,” she said gently, setting her book aside. “That’s what the diaper is for.” Mark sat up, mortified. “I didn’t even… I didn’t feel it happen.” She moved to him, cupping his cheek. “That’s normal when you’re relaxed. Come on, let’s get you changed.” She led him upstairs to their bedroom, where she had laid a towel over the comforter. Mark lay down without protest, staring at the ceiling while she unsnapped the onesie and peeled away the wet diaper. The air felt cool against his skin; the wipes were gentle, the powder lightly scented. Emily worked with calm efficiency, her touch tender and unhurried. When she taped the fresh diaper in place and fastened the snaps, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Better?” He nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. Thanks.” They returned downstairs, and Emily pulled him into another cuddle. “You have no idea how much this is helping me,” she murmured against his hair. “I feel… useful again. Needed.” Mark wrapped his arms around her, pushing down the twinge of unease. It was only temporary, he reminded himself. And she was happier than she had been in months. That was worth it. That evening, after Mark had fallen asleep in a fresh diaper and onesie, Emily slipped downstairs to the laptop once more. The forums welcomed her back with new posts, new ideas. She bookmarked pages about thicker diapers, about cribs that could be built discreetly, about formulas designed to encourage deeper regression. She told herself she was only gathering information—just in case. After all, it was still early days. And Mark was being so good for her. She closed the laptop, turned off the light, and went upstairs to watch him sleep, her heart full of a fierce, protective love she had never known before. Temporary, she thought again. But the word felt thinner now, less certain. Chapter 6: The Workplace Accident January arrived with a sharp, biting cold that turned the sidewalks into sheets of ice. Mark had kept to their agreed boundaries through the holidays—diapers and onesies only after work and on weekends, removed promptly Monday morning before he dressed for the office. The routine had settled into something almost manageable: a private ritual that brought Emily visible calm and cost him only a few hours of mild embarrassment each day. He told himself it was working; her smiles came more easily, her sleep seemed deeper. Temporary, he reminded himself whenever the crinkle of plastic felt too loud. On a Tuesday morning in the second week of January, the warehouse at Mark’s construction supply company was busier than usual. A large shipment of lumber had arrived overnight, and the crew hurried to unload it before the forecasted snow. Mark, in steel-toed boots and a heavy Carhartt jacket, helped guide a forklift carrying stacked pallets. The concrete floor was slick from melted snow tracked in on boots, and in a moment of distraction—thinking about whether Emily had remembered to order more of the plain onesies—he stepped onto a patch of ice hidden beneath sawdust. His foot slid out from under him. He twisted instinctively to catch his balance, but his ankle rolled with a sickening pop. Pain flared hot and immediate. By the time his coworkers reached him, he was sitting on the cold floor clutching his leg, face pale. An hour later, the urgent-care doctor confirmed a moderate sprain: swollen ligaments, no fracture, but strict orders to stay off it for at least two weeks. Crutches, ice, elevation, and a note excusing him from work. Mark texted Emily from the waiting room: Sprained ankle at work. Coming home early. All okay, just sore. Emily read the message twice, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with worry. When Mark hobbled through the front door that afternoon, leaning heavily on the crutches, Emily was waiting with an ice pack and a look of practiced concern. She helped him to the couch, propped his foot on pillows, and fussed over him with kisses and gentle scolding for not being careful. “It’s not too bad,” he assured her, wincing as he shifted. “Two weeks off, then back to normal.” Emily smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “You’ll need rest. Lots of it. And help getting around.” He nodded, grateful for her care. “Yeah. I’ll mostly stay on the couch. Maybe work remotely a little if they need me.” She hesitated, then spoke softly. “Mark… while you’re home recovering, what if we kept the… special time going all day? It would be so much easier—no rushing to change before bed, no worrying about leaks at night when you’re uncomfortable. The diapers are already absorbent, and with you stuck on the couch or in bed, it would just be more comfortable. Practical, even.” Mark blinked, caught off guard. They had agreed on boundaries—nights and weekends only. But her eyes were pleading, and the pain in his ankle throbbed with every small movement. He didn’t want to argue, not when she looked so hopeful. “I guess… for the two weeks,” he said slowly. “Since I’m not going anywhere. It’ll make things easier on both of us.” Emily’s face lit with relief and something deeper—satisfaction. She kissed him warmly. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means.” That evening, she helped him upstairs on the crutches, then settled him on the bed then helped him upstairs on the crutches, then settled him on the bed for a proper change into a fresh diaper and onesie. The routine felt familiar now, almost comforting in its predictability. But tonight she added something new. From the nightstand she produced a larger bottle—plastic this time, with a wider silicone nipple—and a canister of powder she had ordered days earlier. The label read “Adult Nutritional Meal Replacement—Vanilla Crème.” She had told Mark it was simply a protein shake to help him heal faster; she had not mentioned the added ingredients listed in fine print: natural bowel deodorizers, gentle digestive enzymes, and a mild laxative fiber blend designed to keep things “moving comfortably” for those with limited mobility. “I made this special for you,” she said, warming the bottle under hot water. “It’s got everything you need—calories, vitamins, even stuff to keep your tummy happy while you’re resting.” Mark, propped against pillows with his bandaged ankle elevated, accepted the bottle without suspicion. The formula was thicker than the plain milk, sweetly vanilla, and surprisingly filling. He drank steadily while Emily sat beside him, one hand resting lightly on his padded hip. The warmth spread through him, easing the ache in his ankle and the lingering tension from the day. Emily watched him with quiet intensity, noting how readily he accepted the nipple now, how his eyes grew heavy as the bottle emptied. When it was done, she set it aside and pulled him into her arms, cradling his head against her chest. “You’re being so good for me,” she murmured. “Rest now. Mommy’s here.” Mark drifted off without protest, the word Mommy slipping past his defenses in his half-asleep state. Emily stayed awake long after, listening to his breathing, feeling the solid weight of him against her. Two weeks, she thought. Two whole weeks of full-time care. It was only practical. Only temporary. And already, in the quiet of the bedroom, she was planning how to make the most of every single day. Chapter 7: Enforced Dependency Begins Mark woke to the soft glow of morning light and the immediate awareness of the thick diaper taped around his waist. His ankle throbbed dully beneath the ace bandage, but it was the padded bulk between his legs that dominated his thoughts. For the first time, he had slept in a diaper without the promise of removing it come morning. The onesie snaps pressed lightly against his skin, a constant reminder that today there would be no return to adult clothes, no commute, no hiding. Emily was already up. He could hear her moving quietly downstairs, the clink of dishes, the low hum of the kettle. The smell of coffee drifted up the stairs, ordinary and comforting. Mark lay still for a moment, listening to the faint crinkle when he shifted, and felt a wave of unease. Two weeks, he reminded himself. Just until the ankle heals. He reached for the crutches propped against the nightstand and maneuvered himself out of bed. The diaper forced an awkward waddle as he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Emily appeared in the doorway, smiling softly. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, leaning against the frame. “How’s my boy feeling?” Mark managed a small smile around the toothbrush. “Ankle’s sore. Everything else is… weird.” She stepped closer, smoothing his hair. “You’ll get used to it. It’s just us here. No one else to worry about.” She kissed his temple. “Breakfast is ready when you are.” Downstairs, she had arranged the living-room couch into a nest of pillows so he could keep his foot elevated. A tray waited on the coffee table: scrambled eggs, toast cut into triangles, and a large bottle of the vanilla formula warmed to body temperature. Mark eyed the bottle. “Coffee too?” “Of course,” she said, producing a mug. “But the formula has protein and vitamins to help you heal faster. Doctor’s orders—well, almost.” She winked. He drank the coffee gratefully, then tackled the eggs while Emily sat beside him, one hand resting lightly on his padded thigh. The normalcy of the moment—the quiet domesticity—almost made the diaper feel incidental. Almost. By mid-morning, the pressure in his bladder began to build. Mark shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore it. Emily noticed immediately. “It’s okay to use the diaper,” she said gently. “That’s why it’s there. You’re not supposed to be hobbling to the bathroom on those crutches.” He flushed. “I can make it.” She stroked his arm. “But you don’t have to. Let me take care of you.” The encouragement in her voice—soft, loving—chipped away at his resistance. After another ten minutes of squirming, he closed his eyes and let go. The warmth spread slowly, the diaper swelling beneath him. He waited for shame to flood in, but instead he felt only a strange relief, followed by Emily’s quiet praise. “Good boy,” she murmured, kissing his forehead. “See? Nothing bad happened.” Mark managed a sheepish smile. The sensation was humiliating, yes, but her approval soothed the sting. Lunch was chicken soup and crustless sandwiches, eaten on the couch with another bottle of formula. Emily had prepared it lovingly, blending in an extra scoop of the powder—and, unseen, a measured dose of a mild over-the-counter laxative she had purchased online. The label promised “gentle relief for occasional constipation,” perfect for someone with limited mobility. She told herself it was for his health; immobility could cause issues, after all. The afternoon passed slowly. They watched an old movie, Emily’s head on his shoulder, her hand idly patting the front of his diaper from time to time. Mark dozed off once, waking to find himself wet again. Emily changed him without comment, treating it as the most natural thing in the world. By late afternoon, a different pressure began to build—low in his abdomen, insistent. Mark recognized it and tensed. Messing was a line he had not intended to cross. Wetting was one thing; this was another entirely. He shifted on the couch, trying to hold it. Emily noticed the strain in his face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just… adjusting.” She studied him, then seemed to understand. “If you need to go, it’s okay. The diaper can handle it. I’ll clean you up.” Mark shook his head. “I’d rather not.” Her expression softened into something almost pleading. “But it would help me so much. Taking care of all your needs… it makes me feel like the mother I was supposed to be.” The words landed heavily. Mark looked away, guilt twisting in his gut. The pressure mounted; the laxative was doing its gentle work. He clenched, fought, shifted again—but his body, relaxed from days of limited movement and the warm formula, betrayed him. It happened suddenly and uncontrollably. The mess filled the back of his diaper, warm and undeniable. Mortification crashed over him in a hot wave. He froze, face burning, unable to meet her eyes. Emily moved immediately, calm and reassuring. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, baby. Accidents happen.” She helped him upstairs on the crutches, laid him on the bed, and began the cleanup with steady, loving hands—wipes, powder, a fresh diaper taped snugly into place. Throughout it all she spoke softly, telling him how proud she was that he had let go, how complete it made her feel to care for him this way. When it was done, she pulled him into her arms and held him tightly. “You have no idea what this means to me,” she whispered against his hair. “Changing you, feeding you, holding you—it’s healing something inside me I thought was broken forever.” Mark, still flushed with shame, felt tears prick his own eyes. He loved her too much to deny her this comfort, even if it cost him pieces of his dignity. “I’ll keep trying,” he said quietly. “For you.” Emily kissed him, gratitude and something deeper shining in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “My sweet boy.” That night, as she fed him another bottle and rocked him to sleep, Emily’s mind was already moving ahead. Two weeks was a gift. And gifts, she thought, should be used wisely. Chapter 8: Bottles and Bonding The second day of Mark’s recovery dawned quiet and gray, snow tapping softly against the windows. His ankle still ached when he put weight on it, but the pain had dulled to a manageable throb. What dominated his awareness now was the ever-present diaper—thicker than the medical ones he had worn to work, softer, more absorbent. Emily had changed him first thing that morning, humming as she powdered and taped, and dressed him in a fresh pale-blue onesie that snapped snugly over the padding. Breakfast was no longer eaten at the table. Emily carried a tray to the couch: oatmeal sweetened with honey, cut-up pieces of banana, and two large bottles of the vanilla formula. Mark eyed the bottles warily. “Two?” he asked. She smiled, settling beside him with the tray on her lap. “You’re healing. You need the calories and nutrients. And it’s easier than getting up for meals when you’re resting.” He couldn’t argue with the logic. The formula was filling, almost decadently rich, and the warmth of it sliding down his throat was undeniably soothing. He drank the first bottle while she fed him spoonfuls of oatmeal, her free hand resting lightly on his padded hip. The second bottle followed without protest; by the end he felt pleasantly full and drowsy. Emily gathered the dishes and returned with the TV remote. She chose a gentle nature documentary—slow pans over forests, soft narration about animal mothers and their young—and pulled Mark’s head into her lap. He lay there, ankle propped on pillows, watching sunlight reflect off snow through the window while her fingers traced idle patterns through his hair. Mid-morning brought the first wetting. It happened without warning, a sudden warm release that spread through the diaper as he watched a mother bear teach her cub to fish. He tensed, embarrassed, but Emily only patted his thigh. “Good boy,” she murmured. “Just let it happen.” The praise eased the sting, and he relaxed again. By lunchtime he was wet enough to sag noticeably. Emily changed him efficiently, cooing over him, powdering and taping with practiced tenderness. Lunch was more formula—this time three bottles—accompanied by mashed sweet potato fed from a spoon. Mark noticed how easily he accepted the nipple now, how naturally he suckled while she held the bottle. The formula was doing something to him. He felt it in the subtle looseness of his digestion, the way his stomach gurgled softly after each feeding. The canister had mentioned “gentle detox support,” and he supposed that explained the calm, almost floaty feeling that settled over him in the afternoons. His body felt lighter, cleaner somehow, and the constant warmth of the bottles left him relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in years. Emily noticed the changes too. Her eyes were brighter, her movements lighter. She laughed more easily—at the otters playing on screen, at Mark’s sleepy yawn after his third bottle. When he dozed off mid-afternoon, she watched him with quiet wonder, brushing her fingers over the soft cotton covering his diapered bottom. Caring for him—feeding, changing, holding—filled the hollow places inside her with something warm and solid. She felt needed in a way she had never been before. Late afternoon brought another accident—this one messier. The laxative fibers in the formula, combined with days of limited movement, produced a soft, uncontrollable release while Mark watched a documentary on penguins. He froze, mortified, as the warmth spread. Tears pricked his eyes. Emily was there instantly, gathering him close despite the smell. “Shh, it’s all right,” she whispered. “Mommy’s got you.” She carried him upstairs—crutches abandoned for the moment—and laid him on the changing mat she had spread over the bed. The cleanup was thorough, gentle, loving. She spoke softly the entire time, telling him how proud she was, how perfect he was, how this was exactly what she needed to feel whole again. When he was clean and freshly diapered, she pulled him into her arms and rocked him. Mark clung to her, shame and gratitude tangled together. “You’re helping me so much,” she said against his hair. “I feel… alive again. Like I have purpose.” He nodded into her shoulder, throat tight. The sacrifice felt worthwhile when he saw the light in her eyes, the softness in her smile. The odd relaxation from the formula helped too—everything felt distant, manageable. That evening, dinner was skipped in favor of more bottles—four this time, spaced throughout a quiet movie. Mark drank them all, belly rounding slightly under the onesie, body heavy with contentment. When bedtime came, Emily changed him once more, tucked him into bed with his ankle elevated, and curled around him protectively. In the dark, Mark noticed how easily he had accepted the day—bottles, changes, accidents, all of it. The formula left him deeply relaxed, almost floating, and the constant care from Emily felt… safe. Emily lay awake longer, listening to his breathing even out. The detox effects were working beautifully—his body adjusting, becoming accustomed. She had ordered a larger supply of the formula, along with a few other items she hadn’t yet mentioned. Two weeks, she thought, stroking his hair. Plenty of time to deepen the bond. Plenty of time to make this feel natural. After all, he was being such a good boy for her. Chapter 9: Resistance and Acceptance The first week of Mark’s recovery slipped by in a haze of bottles, changes, and quiet days on the couch. His ankle improved steadily—swelling down, pain reduced to a dull ache—but the rest of him adjusted in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The constant feedings of Emily’s special formula left him full and drowsy, his digestion soft and predictable. Wetting happened without thought now; he barely registered the warmth spreading before it was done. Messing, though, still carried a sharp edge of shame. Midway through the second week, on a quiet Thursday afternoon, the pressure built again while they watched an old sitcom rerun. Mark tensed, clenching against the inevitable. The laxative fibers Emily continued to mix into his bottles and soft meals worked gently but relentlessly, and his body—relaxed from immobility and the soothing routine—offered little resistance. He managed to hold it until Emily left the room to warm another bottle. When she returned, he was sitting stiffly, face flushed. “Em,” he said, voice low, “we need to talk.” She paused in the doorway, bottle in hand, reading his expression. Concern creased her brow as she crossed to him and sat close. “What is it, sweetheart?” He shifted, the diaper crinkling loudly. “The… messing. It’s happening too often. I don’t like it. It feels… wrong.” Emily’s eyes filled instantly with tears. She set the bottle aside and took both his hands in hers. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I know it’s hard for you. I know it’s embarrassing. But please try to understand—this is the part that helps me the most.” Mark frowned, confused. “What do you mean?” She looked down at their joined hands, tears slipping free. “When I clean you afterward… when I take care of every single need… it’s the closest I’ll ever come to being a real mother. The feeding, the cuddling—it’s wonderful—but the full care, the messes, the total dependency… that’s what heals the deepest part of me. The part that grieves never changing my own baby’s diaper, never soothing them after an accident.” Her voice broke. She pressed his hands to her cheek. “If we stop that part… if you hold back… it feels like I’m losing the only motherhood I’ll ever have.” Mark’s throat tightened. He had known this was helping her, but he hadn’t realized how completely. The sight of her tears—of genuine pain returning to her eyes—twisted something inside him. “I didn’t know it meant that much,” he said quietly. “It means everything,” she whispered. “Just until you’re better. Please.” He looked at her for a long moment, seeing the fragility beneath her calm caregiving. Guilt and love warred within him, but love won—as it always did. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll try not to fight it.” Relief flooded her face. She leaned in and kissed him softly, tears still wet on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she breathed. “You’re giving me more than you’ll ever know.” That evening, the pressure returned—stronger this time, inevitable. Mark didn’t clench. He closed his eyes and let it happen, face burning as the mess filled the seat of his diaper. When it was over, he sat very still, waiting. Emily was there in moments, as though she had sensed it. She didn’t scold or tease; she simply gathered him close. “There’s my brave boy,” she cooed, voice warm with pride. “Let Mommy take care of you.” The change was slow and thorough, her hands gentle, her words softer than ever. She began using baby talk without thinking—simple, lilting phrases that slipped out naturally. “Who’s Mommy’s good wittle boy? Yes, you are. All clean now, all fresh and comfy.” Mark’s cheeks flamed, but he didn’t protest. The warmth of her approval, the tenderness in her touch, dulled the humiliation. When she finished, she pulled him into her lap—awkward with his size but determined—and offered the bottle. He took it without hesitation, suckling steadily while she rocked him. The formula flowed warm and sweet, and the day’s tension ebbed away. More accidents followed over the next days—frequent, soft, uncontrollable. Each time, Emily responded with the same loving efficiency, the same gentle baby talk, the same deep cuddles afterward. Mark’s body learned quickly; resistance became pointless. The routine—accident, change, bottle, cuddle—wove itself into the fabric of his days. He noticed how relaxed he felt, how the constant care left him floating in a strange, soft space. The formula’s detox effects kept him calm, almost dreamy. He told himself it was temporary. Two weeks would end soon, his ankle would heal, and they would scale back. But watching Emily’s face—seeing the light in her eyes, the new softness in her smile, the way she hummed lullabies without thinking—made the sacrifice feel bearable. Worth it, even. She was healing. And for now, that was enough. Chapter 10: End of Recovery, New Normal The two weeks ended on a deceptively ordinary Friday. Mark woke to find his ankle almost pain-free; he could bear weight without crutches, flex it without wincing. The swelling had vanished, leaving only faint bruising. He stood in the bedroom, testing it gingerly, and felt a rush of relief. Normal life was waiting just outside the door—work clothes, adult underwear, the familiar rhythm of commuting and meetings. Emily watched from the bed, propped on one elbow, her expression carefully neutral. “Looks like you’re healed,” she said softly. “Yeah,” Mark answered, smiling. “Back to the real world on Monday.” He expected her to share his relief. Instead, her eyes filled with sudden tears. Mark’s heart sank. He crossed to the bed and sat beside her. “Em, what’s wrong?” She wiped her cheeks, voice trembling. “I know it’s selfish, but… these two weeks have been the happiest I’ve felt since the diagnosis. Taking care of you full-time, having you need me… it’s kept the worst of the grief away. I’m scared that when you go back—when everything returns to normal—it’ll all come rushing back.” Mark took her hand. “We can still do the role-play nights and weekends, like we originally planned.” She nodded, but the tears kept coming. “I know. It’s just… your accidents the last couple of weeks were so frequent. The doctor said stress and changes in routine can affect bladder control for a while after an injury. What if you have one at work? You’d be mortified. And I’d feel awful knowing I could have prevented it.” He shifted uncomfortably. The accidents had been frequent—too frequent—but he had chalked it up to the formula and immobility. Surely things would settle once he was active again. Emily seemed to read his doubt. “Just for a little while longer,” she pleaded. “Wear the thinner medical ones under your work clothes. No one will know. If nothing happens, we stop. But if you do have an accident… you’ll be protected. And I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.” Mark looked at her tear-streaked face and felt the familiar pull of love and guilt. He didn’t want to risk embarrassing leaks at work either—not really. And if it eased her mind during the day… “Okay,” he said quietly. “For a little while. Just in case.” Relief flooded her features. She hugged him tightly. “Thank you. You’re the best husband in the world.” That weekend, Emily prepared him carefully. She ordered a pack of discreet, thin adult incontinence briefs—medical-looking, quiet, designed to be worn under regular clothes. She showed him how to tape them securely, how slacks hid any outline. On Sunday night, she mixed one last scoop of the vanilla formula into his bedtime bottle, telling him it would help him sleep deeply before the big return to work. Monday morning arrived crisp and bright. Mark dressed in his usual button-down and khakis, the thin brief snug beneath. It felt strange—less bulky than the thick diapers, but still undeniably there. Emily kissed him goodbye at the door, pressing a travel mug into his hand. “Morning coffee,” she said with a smile. “Extra creamy, just how you like it.” He drank it on the commute, grateful for the warmth. The formula—now a familiar taste—blended seamlessly with the coffee. By the time he reached his desk, he felt calm, almost relaxed. The day unfolded normally at first: emails, meetings, catching up on two weeks of backlog. But midway through a conference call, the pressure began—subtle at first, then urgent. Mark shifted in his chair, trying to focus on the speakerphone. The formula’s effects, combined with weeks of conditioned response, were stronger than he expected. He clenched, held as long as he could, but the warmth came anyway—a slow, unstoppable release that soaked the brief beneath his khakis. No one in the meeting noticed; the padding held everything discreetly. But Mark felt it—the spreading wetness, the faint crinkle when he moved. Heat flooded his face. He muted his microphone and sat very still, heart pounding. When the call ended, he escaped to the restroom. The damage was contained—no leaks, no smell—but the reality hit him hard. He had wet himself at work. Like a child. He texted Emily from a stall: Had a small accident. You were right. Her reply came instantly: I’m so sorry, baby. But I’m glad you’re protected. Come home to me after work—I’ll take care of you. Mark stared at the message, a tangle of embarrassment and gratitude tightening his chest. He loved her for worrying, for preparing him. And beneath the anxiety, a small part of him felt… relieved. Safe. He returned to his desk, adjusted his posture to minimize crinkling, and finished the day. That evening, Emily greeted him at the door with open arms and a fresh, thicker diaper waiting upstairs. She changed him slowly, cooing reassurance, feeding him a bottle while he decompressed against her. “See?” she murmured, stroking his hair. “It’s just a little extra security. We’ll keep it up a bit longer—until you’re sure everything’s back to normal.” Mark nodded against her shoulder, the nipple of the bottle still in his mouth. Just a little longer, he told himself. For her sake. And the new normal settled over them, quiet and inevitable, like snow covering the ground. Chapter 11: Workplace Woes The first full week back at the office felt like walking a tightrope over a pit Mark could not see the bottom of. He had grown skilled at the morning routine: shower, thin medical brief taped snugly, loose-fit khakis that hid any slight bulge, an extra brief and wipes tucked into his laptop bag “just in case.” Emily kissed him goodbye each day with the same soft encouragement—You’ll be fine, baby. I’m proud of you—and handed him his travel mug of “special” coffee. The vanilla-creamy taste had become comforting, familiar. He drank it without question on the commute, unaware that every mug contained a careful measure of the formula that kept his system soft and his bladder responsive. At his desk, Mark threw himself into work to distract from the constant low-level awareness of the padding beneath his clothes. Meetings, emails, project timelines—anything to keep his mind off the slow, inevitable filling of the brief. Wetting happened three, sometimes four times a day now. The releases came with little warning: a sudden warmth spreading while he typed, or mid-conversation with a coworker. The thin briefs held it all discreetly—no leaks, no odor thanks to the deodorizers Emily chose—but the knowledge that he was sitting in a soaked diaper at his professional workstation gnawed at him. He developed small rituals to cope. Every hour or so he stood, stretched, and casually walked the long way to the printer or break room, feeling the swollen padding shift heavily between his legs. No one seemed to notice the faint rustle or the careful way he lowered himself back into his chair. Or if they did, they were too polite to comment. Messing was the line he still fought to hold. The formula’s gentle laxative effect made it a daily battle, but sheer willpower—and strategic bathroom breaks where he removed the brief just long enough—kept accidents at bay. Until Thursday. It happened during a late-afternoon budget review in the conference room. Mark sat at the long table with six colleagues and his boss, Tom Reynolds, discussing projected costs for the next quarter. The pressure had been building all morning; he had ignored it, focusing on the spreadsheets. But halfway through Tom’s questions about material overruns, Mark felt the familiar, unstoppable cramp. He clenched, shifted in his seat, tried to breathe steadily. The room was warm; someone had closed the blinds against the winter glare. Sweat pricked his forehead. He prayed for a break, a pause, anything—but the discussion rolled on. It slipped out in a soft, warm rush. Not dramatic, not loud, but unmistakable to him. The mess filled the seat of the brief, spreading with humiliating certainty. Mark kept his face neutral, nodding at Tom’s points as though nothing was wrong, but inside panic flared hot and sharp. When the meeting finally ended, he waited until the others filed out before standing—slowly, carefully—and gathering his notebook. The squish beneath him was mortifying. He walked stiffly to the farthest restroom, locked himself in the accessible stall, and stripped down with shaking hands. The cleanup was rushed and imperfect—wipes from his emergency kit, a fresh brief from the bag, khakis pulled up quickly. He washed his hands twice, checked for any trace of odor, and returned to his desk pale and quiet. That evening he told Emily everything, voice low with shame. She listened without judgment, pulling him into her lap on the couch despite his size. “My poor boy,” she murmured, rocking him. “You did so well holding it as long as you did.” He buried his face in her neck. “It was awful, Em.” “I know,” she soothed, fingers stroking his back. “But you were protected. No one knew. And now we know the thinner ones can handle it.” He nodded against her, exhausted. She changed him into a thick nighttime diaper, fed him a bottle, and held him until he slept. What Mark did not know was that earlier that afternoon—while he sat frozen in the conference room—Emily had made a phone call. She had dialed the main office line, asked for Tom Reynolds, and introduced herself calmly as Mark’s wife. Her voice trembled just enough to sound genuine. “I’m so sorry to bother you at work,” she began. “Mark didn’t want me to call, but I’m worried. The ankle sprain triggered a stress-related incontinence issue. The doctor says it’s temporary, but it’s been… difficult for him. He’s embarrassed, but he’s wearing protection. I just wanted you to understand if he seems distracted or needs extra breaks.” Tom Reynolds, a kind-hearted man in his fifties with grown children of his own, listened with growing sympathy. He had noticed Mark’s odd behavior lately—the stiff way he walked sometimes, the sudden restroom trips, the flushed cheeks during meetings. “Of course,” Tom assured her. “We’ll be accommodating. Whatever he needs—flexible hours, remote options if it helps. He’s a valuable part of the team. Tell him not to worry.” Emily thanked him profusely, tears in her voice that were not entirely feigned. When she hung up, she sat for a long moment staring at the phone. It was only to protect him, she told herself. Only to make things easier. And if it kept him closer to home—closer to her—where she could care for him properly… Well. That was just an unexpected benefit. For now. Chapter 12: Accommodations and Deception Friday afternoon brought an unexpected email from Tom Reynolds. Mark was at his desk, pretending to focus on a spreadsheet while discreetly shifting against the swollen brief beneath his khakis, when the notification chimed. The subject line read: Confidential – Accommodation Discussion. He opened it with a knot in his stomach. Mark, Your wife called earlier this week and explained the medical situation you’re dealing with. I want you to know we fully support you here. Stress-related incontinence is more common than people realize, and we’re happy to make whatever adjustments you need. Effective immediately, you’re approved for full-time remote work until you and your doctor feel it’s no longer necessary. No need to use PTO for the transition—consider this a formal accommodation. Take the pressure off yourself. Your work is excellent, and we want you healthy and focused. Let me know if there’s anything else HR or I can do. Best, Tom Mark stared at the screen, a confusing rush of emotions flooding him. Relief first—no more conference-room panics, no more praying the brief would hold during client calls. But beneath it, a prickling suspicion. Emily had called Tom? Without telling him? He forwarded the email to her with a simple question mark. Her reply came within minutes: Isn’t it wonderful? Tom called me back today to confirm. I didn’t want to get your hopes up until it was official. This will make everything so much easier, baby. You can heal properly now—no stress. Mark sat back in his chair, the damp padding shifting uncomfortably. Part of him was grateful; the office had become a minefield. But another part—the part that still clung to independence—felt a quiet alarm. Remote work meant more time at home. More time under Emily’s gentle, relentless care. He left early that day, citing a headache. On the drive home, he rehearsed questions—why she hadn’t mentioned the call, how much she had told Tom—but when he walked through the door and saw her waiting with shining eyes and open arms, the words dissolved. “You’re home!” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. “Permanent remote. It’s perfect.” Mark hugged her back, voice muffled against her hair. “You talked to Tom without telling me?” She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes, expression soft and apologetic. “I was going to tell you, I promise. But I wanted it to be a done deal first—no disappointment if it didn’t work out. He was so understanding, Mark. He said you’ve seemed distracted lately and just wants what’s best for you.” Mark felt heat rise in his cheeks. Distracted. Odd behavior. The messing incident from earlier in the week flashed through his mind. “I’m relieved,” he admitted. “But… it feels a little like losing control.” Emily cupped his face. “You’re not losing anything. You’re gaining peace. And time with me.” She kissed him gently. “Let me take care of the rest.” That weekend, the transition began. With no commute and no coworkers to see, Emily gently suggested small changes “for comfort.” Adult underwear disappeared from his dresser drawers, replaced by stacks of thicker diapers—still plain white, but noticeably more absorbent than the office briefs. She encouraged onesies under his work shirts during the day. “It’ll keep everything secure,” she said, helping him into a soft gray one Monday morning before his first remote workday. “No tapes shifting while you’re sitting at the desk. And if you have an accident, it’ll hold better.” Mark stood in front of the mirror, shirt unbuttoned over the onesie, feeling the familiar bulk between his legs. He opened his mouth to protest, then saw her hopeful, almost pleading expression and closed it again. “Okay,” he said. “For now.” The onesie snapped closed with a soft row of clicks. Over it, a plain button-down and sweater vest looked perfectly professional from the waist up—perfect for video calls. Wetting became constant. Without the structure of office bathroom breaks, and with Emily refilling his bottle—now openly, no longer hidden in coffee—several times a day, accidents happened whenever his body decided. He accepted changes as routine now, barely blushing when she led him to the bedroom mid-afternoon to tape on a fresh diaper and resnap the onesie. Messing still embarrassed him, but even that grew harder to avoid. The formula’s effects were thorough; his body had learned new rhythms. Emily handled each incident with calm love, cleaning him, powdering him, cooing soft reassurances until the shame ebbed. Mark told himself it was temporary. Remote work would reduce stress, and soon his control would return. They could scale back. But as the days blurred into a soft routine of bottles, changes, and Emily’s constant, nurturing presence, suspicion faded beneath gratitude and exhaustion. He was home. He was safe. And Emily—radiant, purposeful Emily—was happier than she had been in years. For now, that was enough. Chapter 13: Thick Diapers and Helplessness The first full week of permanent remote work passed in a rhythm that felt deceptively normal from the waist up. Mark sat at the desk Emily had set up in the spare bedroom—once intended as a nursery—wearing a crisp button-down shirt and tie for video calls. His camera framed him neatly from the chest up: professional, focused, nodding at the right moments during team meetings. No one could see the onesie beneath the shirt, or the swollen diaper that sagged heavily between his legs by midday. Below the desk, the reality was very different. Emily had phased out the thin medical briefs entirely. In their place were thicker, crinkling diapers—plain white still, but noticeably more absorbent, with taller leak guards and a softer, quilted inner layer. She introduced them one morning while helping him dress for work. “These will hold more,” she explained, unfolding one with a loud rustle. “You’ve been so wet lately, and the thinner ones were getting close to leaking. This way you won’t have to worry all day.” Mark stood in his pajama bottoms, staring at the diaper in her hands. It was visibly bulkier than anything he’d worn to the office. “Em, those are… really thick. I can’t sit at the desk in those. They’ll spread my legs too far.” She looked up at him, eyes soft and pleading. “Just try them for one day. If they’re too much, we’ll go back. But you’ve had so many heavy wettings this week—I’m worried about rashes, about you being uncomfortable. Please, for me?” He hesitated, then sighed. Her concern was genuine; the constant wetness had left his skin sensitive despite frequent changes. And the truth was, he no longer had full control. The formula’s effects lingered. “Fine,” he said quietly. “One day.” The difference was immediate. The thicker padding forced his thighs apart, making him waddle slightly as he walked to the desk. Sitting was awkward—the bulk pushed him forward in the chair, and every shift produced a loud crinkle that made him freeze, terrified the microphone would pick it up during a call. He spent the morning hyper-aware of every movement, every warm release that swelled the diaper further. By lunch, it sagged heavily. Emily changed him with practiced tenderness, praising him for “holding everything so well.” She taped on a fresh thick diaper, then surprised him with something new. “I ordered these for playtime therapy,” she said brightly, holding up a pair of soft leather booties lined with fleece. The soles were dotted with small, blunt plastic spikes—enough to make walking painful and unsteady, but not harmful. “They’ll encourage you to crawl instead of putting weight on your legs when you’re resting. It’s good for relaxation, and it’ll be fun for our special time.” Mark stared at the booties. “Em, I don’t need—” “Please?” she interrupted softly, eyes glistening. “It would mean so much. Just around the house in the evenings and weekends. Crawling is soothing—it lowers stress, helps you let go. And I love taking care of you when you’re little like that.” He looked at her earnest face and felt the familiar pull. One more step. One more concession for her happiness. “Okay,” he said. “Evenings and weekends.” She beamed and knelt to fit the booties over his feet, lacing them snugly. The spikes pressed lightly against his soles when he tried to stand, an uncomfortable prickle that made balance difficult. On all fours, however, the pressure eased. That evening, after his last work call, Emily gently removed his shirt and tie, leaving him in just the onesie and thick diaper. She encouraged him to the living-room floor. “Try crawling to the kitchen for your bottle,” she said, holding it just out of reach with a playful smile. Mark lowered himself awkwardly, the diaper forcing his knees wide. The booties made standing impossible without pain, so he crawled—slow, waddling movements that emphasized the heavy padding between his legs. The crinkle was constant, loud in the quiet house. His face burned with humiliation as he made his way across the rug, onesie riding up slightly to expose the diaper’s waistband. Emily followed, cooing encouragement. “Look at my sweet boy go! So cute.” When he reached her, she scooped him up into her lap on the couch, offered the bottle, and rocked him while he drank. The position—helpless, cradled, dependent—stirred a confusing mix of shame and comfort. He wet again without noticing, the thick diaper swelling further. Later, as she changed him for bed, Emily kissed his forehead. “You were perfect today,” she whispered. “I’m so proud.” Mark lay still under her hands, the booties still on his feet, the thick diaper taped snugly. Humiliation lingered, sharp and hot, but beneath it was the undeniable warmth of her love. It was only temporary, he told himself. Just until things settled. And Emily, watching him drift toward sleep, felt her heart swell with quiet triumph. One more step taken. One more step closer. Chapter 14: Mittens and Chastity The weeks of full-time remote work blurred into a soft, predictable rhythm. Mark’s days revolved around the desk in the spare bedroom: video calls in the morning, emails and reports in the afternoon, all conducted from the chest up in neat shirts and ties. Below the camera’s view, the thick diapers and onesies had become standard. Crawling in the evenings with the spiked booties was now routine; he no longer fought the prickle that forced him onto hands and knees. Emily’s happiness was palpable. She hummed as she moved through the house, planned meals around the formula, and changed him with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. Mark watched the light in her eyes and told himself the deepening immersion was worth it. She was healing. That was all that mattered. One quiet Tuesday evening, after a long day of virtual meetings, Emily led him to the bedroom for his usual change. The routine was familiar: thick diaper off, wipes, powder, fresh diaper taped snugly. But tonight she had something new laid out on the dresser. “Close your eyes for a surprise,” she said, voice playful. Mark obeyed, standing in just his diaper while she worked. He felt soft, padded fabric slide over his hands—thick mittens, fleece-lined with padded palms and short thumbs that rendered his fingers useless. Velcro straps tightened around his wrists, securing them firmly. “There,” she said, stepping back. “Open.” He looked down. The mittens were pale blue, matching his onesie, and ballooned around his hands like oversized paws. He flexed experimentally; he could make a loose fist, but grasping anything precise was impossible. “What are these for?” he asked, a note of unease creeping in. Emily’s smile was gentle. “Safety and comfort. Your hands get so fidgety when you’re working or watching TV—picking at the diaper tapes, rubbing your eyes too hard when you’re tired. These will keep you from accidentally undoing anything, and they’ll help you relax more deeply. Plus,” she added with a small laugh, “they’re adorable on you.” Mark lifted his padded hands, turning them awkwardly. Buttons, zippers, even holding a bottle properly—everything would require her help now. “Em, I still have to type for work.” “You can take them off during calls,” she assured him quickly. “But the rest of the time… let me take care of everything. It’ll be good for both of us.” He hesitated, resistance flickering. But her eyes were bright with hope, and the memory of her tears weeks ago still lingered. He nodded slowly. “Okay. We’ll try them.” She hugged him tightly, murmuring thanks into his hair. The mittens changed everything. Simple tasks—opening a water bottle, scrolling on his phone, even scratching an itch—became impossible without her. Emily fed him every meal now, holding the bottle or spooning soft foods into his mouth. She dressed and undressed him, wiped his face, adjusted his onesie snaps. Total reliance settled over him like a blanket, heavy and inescapable. The formula and its subtle additives continued their work. Messes came daily, sometimes twice, soft and uncontrollable. Mark barely registered the shame anymore; Emily’s loving cleanups and soft baby talk soothed it away. One evening, after a particularly messy accident and thorough change, Emily sat beside him on the bed, tracing gentle circles on his padded thigh. “I have one more little game,” she said softly. “Something to make our special time even closer.” From the nightstand drawer she produced a small, clear plastic device—a chastity cage, simple and beginner-sized, with a soft ring and short tube. Mark’s eyes widened. “Em…” “It’s just a game,” she reassured him quickly, voice warm. “A way to focus all your pleasure on me—on cuddles and closeness instead of… other things. It’ll heighten everything when we’re intimate. And it’ll keep you from any accidental touching down there that might cause irritation with all the wetness.” He stared at the device, a flush rising in his cheeks. Resistance flared—stronger this time—but her expression was so earnest, so full of love. “It’s small steps,” she coaxed. “We’ll start with the largest size. You can take it off anytime you say the word. But I think… I think it would make me feel even more needed. Like I’m in charge of every part of you.” Mark swallowed. The mittens already made him helpless; this would deepen it immeasurably. Yet seeing the joy in her face—the way her eyes sparkled at the thought of caring for him completely—chipped away at his resolve. He loved her. He had promised anything. “Okay,” he whispered. “We’ll try it.” Emily’s smile was radiant. She fitted the cage carefully, gently, locking it with a soft click and tucking the key on a chain around her neck. The plastic was cool and snug, a constant, undeniable presence. “There,” she murmured, pulling him into her arms. “My perfect boy. All mine.” Mark rested his mittened hands against her, the cage a strange, firm reminder between his legs. Resistance waned, washed away by the warmth of her embrace and the quiet happiness radiating from her. He was helpless now—truly, deeply helpless. And Emily, holding him close, felt her heart swell with a fierce, protective joy. Every step brought him closer. Every concession made him more perfectly hers. And she was only getting started. Chapter 15: Inducing Lactation Spring crept in slowly, bringing longer days and the faint scent of lilacs through open windows. Six months had passed since the devastating diagnosis—six months since Mark had first agreed to the temporary role-play that was supposed to help Emily grieve. The house had changed in subtle, irreversible ways: the spare bedroom now held a proper changing table, stacks of thick diapers lined the closet, and bottles waited on a small warming station in the kitchen. Emily’s happiness had deepened into something steady and radiant. She moved through her days with quiet purpose, caring for Mark with a devotion that bordered on reverence. And in the privacy of her late-night searches, she had found one more way to make the fantasy complete. It began with discreet online orders: domperidone tablets shipped from an overseas pharmacy, fenugreek capsules, blessed thistle, a hospital-grade breast pump hidden in the back of her closet. She read forums obsessively—women who had induced lactation without pregnancy, timelines, dosages, techniques. She told herself it was the final piece: real milk, real nursing, the closest she would ever come to the motherhood stolen from her. She started the regimen in secret. Pills with breakfast, herbal tea throughout the day, pumping sessions scheduled when Mark was deep in work calls. The changes were gradual: breasts fuller and tender, a faint tingling that grew into a persistent ache. She wore looser tops, blamed spring allergies for any mood shifts. Mark noticed, of course. How could he not? Emily had always been beautiful, but now there was a new softness to her curves, a gentle swell beneath her sweaters that drew his eyes. He asked once, carefully, if everything was okay. “Just putting on a little winter weight,” she said with a laugh, kissing his forehead. “Nothing to worry about.” He accepted it. There were so many changes to adjust to already; questioning her body felt like one bridge too far. The babying escalated naturally, almost imperceptibly. Adult food disappeared from his plate. Breakfast became bottles of thickened formula with mashed banana blended in. Lunch was pureed vegetables and oatmeal fed from a spoon while he sat in her lap. Dinner was more bottles, sometimes with soft fruits mashed into the mix. Snacks were nursing bottles of warm milk sipped during movie nights on the couch. Mark’s body adapted. The constant liquid diet and formula kept him full but soft, his digestion predictable and frequent. Messes came without warning now—daily, sometimes twice. He no longer fought them; the mittens made resistance futile anyway. Emily changed him with loving efficiency, cooing and cuddling afterward until the shame dissolved into quiet acceptance. Work suffered in small ways. Video calls found him distracted, staring at the bottle Emily sometimes held just off-camera to encourage him between tasks. Reports took longer; his mittened hands required her help to type anything complex. He missed deadlines by hours, not days, and attributed it to “adjusting to remote life.” His boss remained sympathetic, checking in occasionally with gentle emails about taking whatever time he needed. Emily read those emails over his shoulder and smiled. One evening in late April, after a particularly fussy day—three messy changes and constant wetting—Emily sat beside him on the couch, pumping discreetly under a nursing cover while he drank his bottle. The pump’s soft rhythm filled the quiet room. Mark, drowsy and compliant in his thick diaper and mittens, rested his head against her shoulder without questioning the new routine. Her breasts ached, heavy with the first hints of milk. A few precious drops had appeared that morning—clear at first, then faintly white. She had tasted one, tears springing to her eyes at the sweetness. Soon, she thought, stroking his hair. Soon he would nurse from her directly. Soon the bond would be unbreakable. Mark finished the bottle with a small sigh, eyes half-closed. The formula and constant care left him in a perpetual soft haze—relaxed, dependent, strangely content. He noticed Emily’s fuller figure, the way she sometimes winced when hugging him too tightly, but the questions never fully formed. She was happy. She was glowing. And that, more than anything, kept him quiet. Emily set the empty bottle aside and pulled him closer, guiding his mittened hand to rest against her chest. Beneath the fabric, her heart beat steady and strong. Just a little longer, she thought. Just until everything is perfect. Chapter 16: The Turning Point May arrived warm and fragrant, the backyard lilacs blooming in full purple glory. Nearly seven months had passed since Emily’s world had cracked open at the fertility clinic, and in that time the house had quietly, irrevocably transformed into something between a home and a nursery. The spare bedroom now held a sturdy adult-sized crib, a rocking chair, and shelves lined with diapers, onesies, and bottles. Mark’s work wardrobe had shrunk to a handful of button-down shirts for video calls; everything else was soft cotton and thick padding. Emily’s body had changed too. The hormones and pumping had done their work. Her breasts, once tender and heavy, now ached with real fullness. For weeks she had expressed small amounts into bottles—clear at first, then cloudy, then unmistakably white and sweet. She tasted it herself in secret, tears springing to her eyes at the miracle of it. She was producing milk. Real milk. The final, perfect piece. She waited for the right moment. It came on a quiet Saturday afternoon. Mark had finished his last work task early, a short weekly team check-in that required only a shirt and tie over his onesie. Afterward, Emily removed the shirt, leaving him in the pale-yellow onesie she had chosen that morning—thickly diapered beneath, mittens on his hands, booties on his feet. He crawled to the living room as usual, the routine now second nature. Emily waited on the couch with a nursing pillow across her lap and a light blanket draped over her shoulders. She wore a loose button-down shirt, the top few buttons undone. Her heart pounded with nervous excitement. “Come here, sweetheart,” she called softly. “Cuddle time.” Mark crawled to her, knees wide from the diaper’s bulk, and let her guide him up into her lap. He settled against her with a small sigh, head resting naturally in the crook of her arm. The position was familiar—countless bottles had been taken this way—but today felt different. Emily’s breathing was quicker, her body warm and slightly trembling. She shifted the blanket, unbuttoned her shirt further, and gently guided his head lower. Mark felt soft skin against his cheek, the faint scent of her lotion and something new—warm, sweet, almost milky. “Open for Mommy,” she whispered. Confused but trusting, he parted his lips. She guided him to her breast, and the moment his mouth closed around her nipple, warm milk flowed—sweet, rich, utterly real. Mark froze for a heartbeat, eyes widening. Then instinct took over. He latched properly and suckled, the milk coming in gentle, steady pulls. The taste was indescribable—comfort and love distilled into liquid warmth. It filled his mouth, slid down his throat, spread through his chest like sunlight. Emily exhaled a shaky breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. She cradled his head, fingers threading through his hair, and rocked him slowly. “That’s it,” she murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Drink from Mommy. You’re safe. You’re loved.” Mark’s eyes fluttered closed. The intimacy overwhelmed him—the warmth of her skin, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his cheek, the sweet flow of milk that seemed to reach straight into the deepest parts of him. Weeks of formula had prepared his body for this; the real thing was infinitely better. A profound sense of safety washed over him, deeper than anything he had felt since childhood. He drank greedily, mittened hands resting against her side, diapered bottom heavy and warm in her lap. Without thinking, he wet—copiously, the thick padding swelling beneath him. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the milk and the woman giving it to him. Emily felt the warmth spread and smiled through her tears. She shifted him slightly to the other breast when the first slowed, and he latched again without hesitation. Her body responded, milk letting down in a rush that made her gasp softly. They stayed like that for nearly an hour—Mark nursing steadily, Emily rocking and stroking his hair, whispering soft endearments. When he finally drifted off, still latched, milk dribbling from the corner of his mouth, Emily held him close and let her own tears fall freely. This was it. The turning point. Mark woke later in the crib, changed and dressed in a fresh diaper and onesie, but the craving was already there—deep, insistent, like hunger but warmer. When Emily came to get him for evening cuddle time, he crawled to her eagerly, eyes fixed on her chest. She smiled, understanding completely, and settled on the couch to nurse him again. From that day forward, breastfeeding became the center of their world. Bottles of formula were phased out almost entirely; Mark nursed multiple times a day, cradled in her arms or lying across her lap. The milk was abundant now, sweet and nourishing, and he sought it with quiet desperation. Diapers, mittens, booties, crawling—all of it began to feel not like concessions but like natural extensions of the safety he found at her breast. Wetting and messing happened constantly, without shame. The thick padding, the helpless reliance, the baby clothes—they became associated with love, with comfort, with the warm flow of milk that quieted every doubt. Mark still worked—remotely, distractedly—but the regression had solidified. He no longer questioned the depth of it. He craved her care, her milk, her control. Emily watched the change with quiet triumph and fierce love. Her baby boy was hers completely now. And the world outside their nursery felt farther away than ever. Chapter 17: Shrinking Cage and Crawling Life Summer heat settled over the house like a heavy blanket, the air thick with the hum of cicadas and the scent of cut grass from the neighbor’s yard. Eight months had passed since the clinic visit that changed everything. Mark’s world had shrunk to the walls of their home, to the soft crinkle of diapers and the warm comfort of Emily’s arms. The chastity cage had become a constant companion. It started large enough to be tolerable—a gentle reminder, Emily called it. But every few weeks she presented a smaller size, always with the same loving explanation: “It’ll help you focus on me, on us. Less distraction, more closeness.” Mark protested weakly each time, but her tears—or the threat of them—always won. The ring stayed the same; only the tube shortened, the bars closed in. By July the cage was small enough that erections were impossible, arousal a dull, frustrating ache that resolved only in her touch or the warmth of nursing. Dependency deepened; pleasure belonged entirely to her now. Walking had become a memory. The spiked booties were no longer just for evenings. Emily declared them permanent “for safety and therapy.” Standing without permission brought an uncomfortable prickle against his soles; crawling was painless, natural. She enforced the rule gently but firmly: “Babies crawl, sweetheart. It keeps you low and safe, close to Mommy.” Mark’s days were spent on all fours. From crib to changing table, from playpen in the living room to the desk for work calls—he crawled. The thick diapers forced his knees wide, the onesie riding up to expose padded hips with every movement. The mittens made balance tricky; he often paused to rest, forehead against the cool floor, breathing through the humiliation. Work calls were managed carefully. Emily dressed him in a neat shirt and tie from the waist up, hair combed, expression composed. Below the camera—out of view to his colleagues—he wore only the onesie, diaper, mittens, booties, and the tiny cage locked snugly in place. Emily sat just off-screen, sometimes holding a bottle for him to sip between responses, her presence a silent reminder of who truly controlled the meeting. Incontinence had worsened to completeness. Wetting happened constantly, without thought or warning. Messing came several times a day—soft, sudden, unstoppable. The formula had been tapered off months ago, but habits formed over half a year held firm. His body no longer asked permission. One humid afternoon in early August, Mark crawled from the living room toward the kitchen for his midday nursing. The diaper beneath his onesie sagged heavily, warm and full from multiple accidents. Halfway across the hallway, a familiar cramp gripped him. He paused, mittened hands on the floor, but there was no fighting it. The mess pushed out in a warm rush, filling the seat of his diaper with soft weight. He stayed there on hands and knees for a moment, face burning, breathing shallow. Shame flickered—faint now, almost habitual—but was quickly overtaken by resignation. Emily would clean him. Emily would hold him. Emily would make it okay. She appeared in the doorway as if summoned, eyes soft with understanding. “Oh, my poor baby,” she cooed, kneeling to stroke his back. “Come to Mommy.” He crawled the rest of the way, diaper squishing beneath him. She lifted him onto the changing table with practiced ease, unsnapped the onesie, and began the cleanup—wipes, powder, a fresh, even thicker diaper taped snugly. All the while she murmured praise and love, her voice a soothing balm. When he was clean, she carried him to the rocking chair in the nursery—the one she had ordered months ago—and unbuttoned her shirt. Her breasts, full and heavy with milk, waited. Mark latched eagerly, the tiny cage straining uselessly as milk flowed warm and sweet. He nursed long and deep, eyes closed, mittened hands resting against her. The frustration of the cage, the helplessness of crawling, the constant messes—all of it faded beneath the overwhelming comfort of her milk, her arms, her love. This was safety. This was home. Emily rocked him gently, fingers in his hair, feeling the weight of him against her—the weight of her baby boy, dependent and perfect. The cage would shrink again soon. The crawling would stay forever. And Mark, lost in the warm haze of nursing, no longer minded. He was exactly where he belonged. Chapter 18: Full-Time Baby Routine Autumn painted the trees outside in fiery reds and golds, but inside the house time seemed to have slowed to the gentle rhythm of a nursery clock. Nine months had passed since the clinic visit—six months since Mark’s world had fully narrowed to the soft, padded confines of babyhood. His days now followed a structure as predictable as a toddler’s: wake in the crib to Emily’s smiling face, morning nursing while she rocked him, a slow crawl to the changing table for a fresh diaper and onesie. Breakfast was nursing again, followed by playtime in the large pen she had built in the living room—soft mats, stuffed animals, colorful blocks he could only nudge clumsily with his mittened hands. Naps came twice a day: one mid-morning, one mid-afternoon, always in the crib with the rails raised and a pacifier clipped to his onesie. Emily tucked him in with a blanket, kissed his forehead, and dimmed the lights. He slept deeply, the constant warmth of diapers and the lingering taste of her milk pulling him under. Afternoons brought more play, sometimes gentle tummy time on a quilt while she read aloud from picture books. Nursing happened whenever he fussed—four, five, six times a day. He sought it now with quiet urgency, crawling to her and nuzzling against her chest until she lifted her shirt and guided him to her breast. The milk flowed sweet and abundant; he drank until drowsy, then drifted in her arms while she hummed lullabies. Evenings were for cuddling on the couch, nursing again before bed, a final change into an overnight diaper thick enough to handle anything. Emily carried him to the crib—his legs no longer attempted to walk—and tucked him in with his favorite stuffed bear. She stayed until his eyes closed, one hand resting on his padded hip through the bars. Emily had quit her library job three months earlier. Savings, careful investments, and Mark’s remaining income covered them comfortably. She told friends she wanted to focus on “supporting Mark through his health challenges.” No one pressed for details; her radiant happiness seemed explanation enough. Mark’s work had dwindled to nothing. Meetings became rare, then nonexistent. He missed deadlines, forgot tasks, stared blankly at emails while waiting for Emily to bring his next bottle. When his boss finally suggested a formal leave of absence, Emily took over the call. “It’s been a progressive condition,” she explained calmly, citing fabricated doctor’s notes she had carefully prepared—stress-induced neurological issues, chronic fatigue, loss of fine motor control. “He’s applied for disability. We’re hoping for approval soon.” The paperwork went through smoothly. Disability payments began in early fall, steady and sufficient. Mark signed where Emily guided his mittened hand, no longer questioning. He craved her milk constantly now. It was comfort, nourishment, love in its purest form. When she was busy, he fussed softly until she lifted him to nurse. The act grounded him, quieted every lingering whisper of the man he used to be. Incontinence was absolute. Wetting was background noise; messing came without warning, several times daily. He felt it happen, registered it dimly, and waited for her to notice. Shame had faded to a faint echo, replaced by trust. Emily would care for him. Emily always did. One crisp October afternoon, as leaves swirled past the window, Mark lay in his playpen stacking soft blocks with clumsy mittened nudges. Emily sat nearby, pumping the last of a session into a bottle for later. He looked up at her—his Mommy—and felt a wave of pure contentment. She met his gaze and smiled, eyes shining with tears she no longer bothered to hide. “My perfect baby boy,” she whispered. Mark babbled softly around the pacifier she had clipped to his onesie, crawling to the edge of the pen and reaching for her. She lifted him immediately, settling him against her chest. He latched eagerly, milk flowing warm and sweet. Outside, the adult world spun on—deadlines, traffic, ambition. Inside, there was only the quiet rhythm of nursing, the crinkle of diapers, the steady beat of her heart against his ear. Mark’s old life felt like a dream he no longer remembered. This was real. And in Emily’s arms, drinking deeply from the mother he had given her, he wanted nothing else. Chapter 19: Total Incontinence Achieved November’s chill crept through the cracks around the windows, but inside the house it was always warm—warm with central heating, warm with the scent of baby powder and Emily’s milk, warm with the quiet certainty of routine. Ten months had passed since the diagnosis. Mark’s body had completed its surrender. The change was gradual, then absolute. Wetting had been constant for months; now even the faintest awareness of a full bladder was gone. He simply released whenever the need arose—multiple times a day, sometimes every hour—without thought or warning. Messing followed the same path. The laxatives Emily had once carefully measured into his bottles were tapered away weeks ago, unnecessary now. His body had learned new habits too thoroughly to unlearn them. Soft, sudden messes came three, four, sometimes five times daily, warm and effortless. He felt them happen, registered the spreading weight in his diaper, and waited calmly for Emily to notice. There was no shame left—only trust. Emily watched the final barriers fall with quiet awe. She changed him lovingly each time, cooing praise, kissing his forehead, nursing him afterward until he drifted in her arms. The thicker diapers she used now held everything comfortably; leaks were rare. Rashes were prevented with diligent care and ointment. His skin stayed soft, his disposition content. Resistance to exposure had vanished too. Mark no longer flinched when the doorbell rang or tugged at his onesie to hide the obvious bulge. The diapers—printed now with subtle pastel patterns she had chosen—were simply part of him, like the mittens that kept his hands useless or the booties that enforced his crawling. One crisp Saturday in late November, Emily decided it was time. She invited Sarah—her closest friend from the library days, the only person who knew fragments of the truth—for afternoon tea. Sarah had always been discreet, kind, and curiously supportive when Emily mentioned “taking care of Mark full-time.” She arrived at two o’clock with a tin of homemade shortbread and a warm smile. Mark was in his playpen when the doorbell rang, stacking oversized foam blocks with clumsy mittened nudges. He looked up as Emily greeted Sarah at the door, voices drifting in from the hall. A flicker of old self-consciousness stirred—he was in a thick, printed diaper under a short yellow onesie that barely covered it, pacifier clipped to the collar, hair tousled from his morning nap—but the feeling passed quickly. Emily wanted this. Emily was happy. That was enough. Emily led Sarah into the living room. “And this,” she said proudly, gesturing to the pen, “is my baby boy.” Sarah’s eyes widened briefly, but she recovered with a soft smile. “Hello, Mark,” she said gently. Mark babbled around the pacifier—a soft, nonsensical sound—and waved a mittened hand. No attempt to hide, no flush of embarrassment. He crawled to the edge of the pen and reached up toward Emily. Emily lifted him out effortlessly, settling him on her hip. The diaper’s bulk was unmistakable beneath the onesie; the faint scent of powder and recent use hung in the air. Sarah took it in without judgment. “He’s beautiful,” she said sincerely. “You both look so happy.” Emily’s eyes shone. “We are.” They sat on the couch—Emily with Mark in her lap, Sarah beside them—and talked over tea and shortbread. Mark nursed quietly while the women chatted, latching and unlatching as he drifted in contentment. Halfway through, he wet heavily; the diaper swelled beneath him with a soft hiss only Emily noticed. A few minutes later, a mess followed—warm, effortless. He sighed around her breast and kept nursing. Emily felt it happen and smiled down at him, stroking his hair. Sarah watched with quiet understanding. “He’s completely relaxed with you.” “He trusts me completely,” Emily answered, voice thick with emotion. “I take care of everything.” When Sarah left an hour later, she hugged Emily tightly at the door. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” she whispered. “You’ve built something beautiful.” After the door closed, Emily carried Mark to the changing table. He lay placidly while she cleaned him, powdered him, taped on a fresh diaper. Then she nursed him again, rocking slowly. That same week, the disability approval letter arrived—official, generous, permanent. Combined with savings, it freed them financially. Mark signed the acknowledgment form with Emily guiding his mittened hand, no longer working at all. The last threads of his adult life had quietly dissolved. Total incontinence was simply fact now: wetting constant, messing frequent and uncontrolled. He felt the accidents happen, accepted them, and waited for her care. Exposure no longer mattered. He crawled openly in his diapers, nursed in her lap without hiding, babbled and cooed without self-consciousness. Emily held him that night in the rocking chair, milk flowing steady and warm. “My perfect baby,” she whispered, tears of joy on her cheeks. Mark nursed deeper, eyes closed, body heavy and safe in her arms. This was everything. Chapter 20: A New Life as Baby Boy December 31, 2025. Exactly one year had passed since the day Emily and Mark sat in Dr. Harlan’s office and heard the word irreversible. Outside, snow fell in thick, silent flakes, blanketing the neighborhood in hush. Inside, the house glowed with soft lamplight and the faint scent of warm milk and baby powder. Mark lay in his crib, eyes half-open, watching the mobile turn slowly overhead: pastel stars and moons that had once seemed childish and strange, now as familiar as breathing. He wore a thick overnight diaper printed with tiny rockets, the tapes snug beneath a sleeper printed with the same pattern. His mittened hands rested on his tummy; the small chastity cage—now permanently tiny—pressed gently against the padding. He felt the familiar heaviness of a fresh wetting from moments ago, but it no longer registered as anything but normal. Emily stood beside the crib in a soft robe, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her breasts, still full a year into lactation, ached gently with the need to nurse. She reached through the bars and stroked his cheek. “Happy New Year, my sweet boy,” she whispered. Mark turned toward her touch, making the small, eager sound he had learned she loved. She smiled—radiant, whole—and lowered the side rail. With practiced ease she lifted him, settling into the rocking chair with him cradled against her chest. He latched immediately, nursing with the deep, steady pulls that had become the center of his world. The milk was warm, sweet, endlessly comforting. It flowed freely; her body had adjusted perfectly to his demand. As he drank, his eyes fluttered closed, one mittened hand resting against her skin. Emily rocked slowly, tears of quiet joy slipping down her cheeks. The grief that had once threatened to swallow her whole was gone—healed, transformed into this fierce, protective love. She was a mother in every way that mattered. Her baby needed her completely, and she needed him just as much. Mark’s thoughts drifted in the warm haze of nursing. He remembered fragments of the man he had been: suits and ties, deadlines and commutes, the weight of adult decisions. They felt distant now, like a story about someone else. The descent had been slow—love-fueled, guilt-soothed, step by careful step—but he no longer questioned it. He had given her everything. And in return, she had given him peace. The shame that once burned so hot had cooled into acceptance, then into something deeper: pride in belonging to her, safety in surrender. Diapers were simply part of him now—thick, crinkling, constant. He wet and messed without control, without care. Exposure no longer embarrassed him. When Sarah visited again last month, he had crawled to her happily, sat in her lap for story time, and nursed openly while the women talked. The world saw what it saw; he only saw Mommy. Disability payments and savings kept them comfortable. The yellow room down the hall—the one once meant for a different baby—was now a fully equipped nursery: crib, changing table, rocking chair, shelves of supplies that would never run low. Emily shifted him to her other breast. He latched again, drinking deeply, feeling the cage press uselessly as arousal stirred and went nowhere. Pleasure belonged to her now; his body knew it. She stroked his hair, humming the lullaby she sang every night. In the quiet, her mind turned to the future. Sarah had mentioned a friend—another woman caring for her own “little one.” A playdate, perhaps. A chance to share, to connect, to let Mark experience the joy of others like him. The idea warmed her. There would be more chapters to their story. More love. More care. More surrender. Mark finished nursing with a small, satisfied sigh. Emily lifted him to her shoulder, patting gently until a soft burp escaped. Then she carried him to the changing table for his bedtime change—thick diaper, fresh onesie, pacifier clipped to the collar. She laid him in the crib, raised the rail, and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Sleep tight, my perfect baby boy,” she whispered. “Mommy loves you more than anything.” Mark’s eyes met hers in the dim light. He babbled softly around the pacifier—a sound of pure contentment—and reached a mittened hand toward her. She took it, held it until his breathing deepened and his fingers relaxed. Outside, snow continued to fall, covering the world in quiet white. Inside, Emily turned off the lamp and stood for a long moment watching him sleep. One year. A lifetime. And the beginning of forever. The End… for now.

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Supernatural elements Witchcraft and spirtualism Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death (or the beyond), illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounters This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back. I know it’s only been a short time away, but I’m definitely excited for this story. I just fleshed out a lot more of it yesterday and today and I think I can weave a lot of fun into this one… which I guess is kind of the point with this story. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my last one and I’m glad I wrote it… but there was a lot of dark in there. Fun to write about sometimes, but it wears on the soul just a smidge after a while. Currently, the chapter count for this story stands at 16, so it’s also going to be a shorter one for sure as compared to my last few. I might flesh a few of them out, but with the way I designed it, it definitely won’t be the almost 30 that my last story was. Speaking of the future, as usual, the poll will be going up next chapter. Also, I’m going to still try and stick with my three chapters a week. This week will be a little off with another one like posted both Sunday and Monday (for a total of four). So, with that in mind, this story might only go until the end of November or the beginning of December. Some things are potentially on the horizon for me and could severely pinch my time though. If that happens, I’ll let you know, but this story should absolutely be completed before the end of the year. Thinking beyond that, I’ll talk more about that later when I know a few more details about my own life but expect there definitely to be a gap between this story and my next one. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: A Flickering and A Warmth The lights flicker all around. The air gets chilly and I pull up my fleece jacket to keep warm, my hands needing to stay still as I look into the dark hole before me. “Babe. Come on!” Frankie, my fiancé, pleads with me. “I’m freezing here! It’s March in Philly. I really shouldn’t be seeing my breath in my own house at this point. We live in the historic district sure, but… I don’t need that in my life at this point.” “Yeah, yeah… I hear you.” I switch on my flashlight to look inside the nook of the electrical panel, highlighting several spooky cobwebs in the process. “I think there’s some old and faulty wiring back here. Probably messing with the heating and the lights.” The lights above me flicker incessantly and I need to shake my flashlight periodically to keep it lit so I can actually see what I’m doing as I search for the problem and dust away the cobwebs. “You know… the whole historical thing you just had to have? Kind of a downside to it as well…” Frankie glares at me but then smiles in her typical scheming way that makes me go a little weak at the knees still. “Well… when we bought this place together, I thought I had a big strong handyman to fix all my needs. Guess I was wrong, huh? Shame too…” She pouts jokingly. I roll my eyes. “That’s not going to work on me… today,” I admit, knowing full-well how often her gorgeous and doe-like eyes have brought me low and turned me around on practically anything she wanted within reason. There’s a reason our bedroom has accent pillows… and that idea wasn’t from me. “No?” she questions slyly, slinking up to me while biting her lip. I feel myself giving way a little bit in light of her advance towards me. I know her scheme, but I also know that if she really wants, I’m just about powerless to stop her. “No…” I can already hear the little trepidation and breakdown of my former willpower in my voice. From her smile, Frankie hears it too. “Well… maybe you need some…” Her hands deftly trace over my body. “Incentive?” I nearly let out a little yelp as her graceful fingers send a shiver up my spine… definitely not helped by the colder temperatures inside. I shake my head though. “Yes… incentive.” I try to focus ahead, but Frankie doesn’t let up her little touches. “Frankie… I… I…” I think of spiders… zombies… pink bunnies… anything to keep me focused and off my fiancés increasing closeness and light but prominent touch over my body. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” she asks playfully, her knowing smile showing me just how much she knows this is affecting me and just how much she loves that. “Can’t concentrate?” I shake my head, trying desperately to focus on fixing the wiring. Finally, though, I find the problem. “Ah! Here it is!” I break free of Frankie and rush over to turn the power completely off. Everything goes dark and I hear a little creak from upstairs. “Babe!” Frankie calls out. “Warn me before you do that next time. You know how I am with this place in the dark!” I roll my eyes out of her sight, but she knows my feelings on why. “For the last time, Frankie… there’s no one else in this house. It just… creaks and groans is all. No boogeyman… no demons… no ghosts,” I note confidently coming back over to her to fix the wiring issue I found. She glares at me. “It’s a historical house, Liam,” she says, using my first name… never a good sign with her. “There are other things out there… more than from what we can see.” I shine the light and reach in with the circuit checker to ensure the power is actually off. “Right…” Frankie scoffs. “Well, fine. Be that way. But… you know Brandon and Carmen both agree with me as well,” she points out. “Both of them said they felt something in this place the last time they were here. And you heard the stories and…” I yank out the frayed wire with a grunt, cutting her off and sigh as I reach into my toolbox and pluck out another wire and the tools to reattach the circuit. “Okay… well, yeah. But Carmen thinks her vacuum cleaner is haunted and Brandon…” “Your college ‘brother from another mother?’ That one?” she questions, her annoyance over my disbelief and the fact that I always used to introduce him that way to her very clear now. I smirk and nod. “That’s right. But you know him…” I go in and reattach the wire, twisting the bits around and completing the circuit before backing out. “Ever since you and I introduced him to Carmen. Well… you know…” She doesn’t respond and I can’t tell if Frankie is playing dumb or she really doesn’t see it. Knowing her though, she’s probably just waiting for me to say it. So, I sigh. “He’s got a thing for her, babe.” Her knowing smile confirms my suspicions. “And that’s fine. He just… his opinion tends to agree with whatever she thinks.” Frankie’s smile fades and she sighs as well. “Yeah… I’ve seen that too. I just…” She shakes her head. “Never mind… just, are you going to give us power today… or do I need to start biking a turbine or something to turn on the TV instead?” I smile at her sarcasm and go back over to the electrical panel. “Alright… here we go!” I wince and flick on the main power switch. Humming to life, the house switches back on… this time without a flicker and an almost instant wave of heat from the vents. “Ah…” Frankie smiles like she does whenever she comes home and plops on the couch with a good book. “That’s more like it…” She luxuriates in the warmth for another moment and admires the flowers on the table she arranged for work before turning back towards me. “Thank you, sweetie. That’s much better. But…” She doesn’t have to say anymore, and I look at my watch. “Yeah… yep! Gotta change now to make our dinner reservation.” I nearly turn away to head upstairs to change but pause and then turn back towards Frankie. “Right?” I ask to confirm my guess. She chuckles a little at that before nodding her head. “That’s right. Can’t have you running around in that ratty old flannel to the best new pub in town!” She pauses for a second. “Oh! And while you’re up there, can you move the box of your old stuff from when you were a kid into the guest bedroom. You really need to sort that stuff out before it starts collecting dust!” I smile and nod with her request before heading up the stairs to change and now move the box. Before I’m completely out of view though, I turn back to look at my fiancé still at the bottom. “You know… it’s tough stuff from back then. Basically, my whole childhood. And it could be worth a mint someday, so…!” Looking back down the stairs that maybe she will budge on me getting rid of something, I just see an unamused Frankie with her hands on her hips and a skeptical look plastered all over her face. “Right… right. I got it. I’ll move it now and I promise to look through it tomorrow.” She says something else, this time with an amused smile, but this time it’s almost under her breath and by the time I see it, I’m more focused on getting ready. Knowing Frankie, finishing the task and then getting to the restaurant on time is more important than an acknowledgement of whatever she just said. Still, fifteen minutes later, I’m shaved, dressed, and I’ve made sure my hair is all nice and styled. Frankie appreciates those little details, and considering that tonight we’re going to be discussing wedding plans at dinner as well… I know she’s going to want to focus on them… rather than a potential missed spot when I was shaving. “Ready?” I ask, getting to the bottom step and seeing Frankie waiting by the door. She turns toward me and smiles wide. “Oh…” She gets a little flustered when I actually put effort into my appearance. She has her tricks and I have mine. “Yes! Yes. I…” She takes a breath and grabs the keys quickly. “Come on!” She barely turns back to see if I’m following her. ‘Oh, classic Frankie. Move onto the next thing to avoid the embarrassment of the now…’ I smirk and make sure to lock the door. Before I do though, I groan a little as I see another little flicker of the overhead light in the main hallway. I then also smell something sweet and oddly familiar, but something I can’t place either. ‘I wonder if Frankie’s using a new floral spray or something?’ For now, I decide not to ask Frankie it or tell her about the still fluctuating power… Ten minutes later, we’re heading out of the historical part of the city and the radio switches to a commercial I hadn’t heard before. “Scared? Intrigued? Just wanting to know more about the underground scene or what lurks beyond the covers and into the dark? Join us tonight to discuss this very matter. Releasing her book, ‘Understanding Your Kink,’ join Dr. Lauren Hutchinson and I tonight as we dive headfirst into...” I click the radio off and shake my head, being sure to pay attention to the street signs ahead for where we’re going. I then shift in my seat for a moment, trying to find the right spot to sit for the drive. “Geesh… almost feels weird to be driving, you know?” Frankie nods. “Yeah. Ever since we moved into the heart of the city, I can barely remember the last time I drove anywhere. Can walk to work and the grocery store…” “And Brandon and Carmen live so close…” I point out as well. “Seat kind of feels lumpy now.” I shift around uncomfortably as we cross the bridge to get on the main road up to where we need to go. “Probably just your imagination…” Frankie muses. “But babe… pay attention. You know this road can get a little tricky at these speeds at night.” I nod back and focus through my distance glasses for the exit I need to take. Most of the time I-76 is pretty choked with traffic, but tonight with the sun already set and a fog setting in, I think most people are avoiding it. “Pretty grim out here,” I note, keeping my eyes on the increasingly blurry road ahead. “Just pay attention and we’ll get there soon. It’s not too much farther north after the zoo,” she notes, her brain likely already calculating the exact moment we need to exit over to make our reservation on time. “But maybe turn on your high beams or something. I can barely see the road ahead or who’s in front of us…” I nod and look down for a second to flick them on. I find the switch, having to reach my hand under the wheel a little and then look up... Right at a swerving car. “Babe look out!” Frankie screams, quickly trying to shield her face from whatever might happen next as she peaks through her fingers in utter terror. Seeing the car at the last minute, I try to swerve as well to avoid the now out of control vehicle in front of us… but his speed and ours are too much. Horrifically, I can tell that it’s too late. We’re both going too fast on the curve of the road to avoid each other. He spins right into the front of my car… spinning us away and right into a nearby traffic sign, right side first. Glass shatters and metal bends and snaps. I feel the weight of the world shove against my side and the pain as my right arm slams into the middle console between the seats. Airbags deploy right on impact and quickly deflate as smoke and the fog settle around us and twist around my broken vehicle. The world bleary already, I look around with squinted eyes to survey the damage. I know I’m not supposed to after an accident, and it even hurts a little… but I turn to my right to see the one thing that really matters to me. “Frankie?” No answer except the faint sound of a little dripping. “Frankie!” I shout, a little more panic in my voice now… but still no answer… no movement. * * * The phone rings once… a second time… and even a third. I ignore it each time, laying out on my couch, the curtains drawn close and the house quiet except for the creak of the frame as the wind rattles it from the outside… the Fall season definitely approaching. The machine in the other room beeps. “Hey bro… it’s me, but I guess you probably already know that…” Brandon says with a sigh from his phone. “Listen… I know being roommates in college and all, a lot of the times that means being each other’s wingman or helping hide the booze our freshman year or celebrating a new job or whatever… but we’ve been through a lot together. Being my ‘brother from another mother’ and all… well, it also means that we’re here for each other in the tough times as well. Frankie… well, I know how much she means to you still. So, uh… yeah. Just give me a call, okay? Stay tough, bro.” The machine clicks off. I roll over on the couch and momentarily wince over my still sore wrist. I came away from the crash with a pin in my wrist still, and Frankie… I shake my head trying desperately to clear those thoughts. ‘No need to start crying again, Liam…’ I sigh and pick up the picture frame with the photo of Frankie in it I took almost a year ago now at a local Fall festival. She was so happy that day… we were so happy. Now… The phone rings once… a second time… and a third yet again. I still ignore it and let it go to the machine. ‘Come on, Brandon… Take the hint. You’re a friend… the best one I have, but… I just want to be left alone…’ I sigh and await the oncoming message trying to get me to leave the house once again… only it’s not from Brandon this time. The machine beeps. “Liam… pick up the phone. Pick up the phone.” There’s a heavy sigh at the other end of the line, and I can already hear the disappointment in Carmen’s voice. “I feel that you’re there and listening to me, Liam, but… please call me back no matter what. Just… whenever you get this and hear me out… please call me. It’s been six months since the funeral. I know you miss her so badly, but I miss her too. Our little flower shop… it just doesn’t feel the same without her by my side anymore…” I know full-well that they were very close before I came into the picture. She’s my friend as well, but she was always closer to Frankie like I was closer to Brandon than she was. I still thanked Carmen for the lasagnas she gave me after the funeral, but… since then, I just kind of want to forget everything… “Please call me, Liam. I… I miss you. I miss her! Just… please call me back. I’m worried about you. Brandon’s worried about you. We don’t even have to do anything fun if you don’t want to. Just see each other to talk, okay?” I hear her desperation, and I do feel a little bad for her. In one stupid accident on the road, she lost her business partner and closest friend… but I just can’t bring myself to move from my spot and answer her. “Alright, Liam. I understand. Just call me back when you can. Please…” The machine clicks off. I look deep into the photo of Frankie. She was so happy that day. I almost gave the photo to her parents when they came around to pick up some of her stuff. I gave them almost everything else I had of hers. It just didn’t feel right to keep it all. They were family… they were her parents. Now though, I just have the frame and a few of the things that I gave her and that her parents insisted on me keeping. Barely a whisper of memory now in this empty house… “Frankie…” I paw at the front of the photo and feel the tears come once again. I’m tired of tears, and I swear I would have run out by now… but my sadness just never seems to end whenever I think about her too much in one stretch. Lately though, that just feels like it’s all the time. But for Frankie, I keep pushing on. I still do my job. I still feed myself. Frankie would want that for me at least… but everything else? I just can’t find it in myself to celebrate. The last time I tried… really tried I mean… Fourth of July. Brandon and Carmen were supportive that night, but I just couldn’t move on without thinking of Frankie. How she loved the bar we all went to. How her hand felt in mine when we watched the fireworks the year before. Or the smell of hotdogs… something she always gagged at before guzzling down two in a second. All her little quirks and things that made her who she was… who I still love, even the boom and sparkle of the fireworks overhead couldn’t distract me enough from that… I sigh at those little odd and yet wonderful memories and look back at her photo. “I miss you Frankie… if only I could see you… one last time… I… I could really use someone to talk to like you. Someone with an open mind and who won’t judge me and…” Suddenly, what feels like an electric shock runs through my body. My hair stands up on my neck, and I almost get the sensation like I’m being lifted off the couch for a second before I feel an incredible warmth envelops me. Not hot like a sunny day at the beach, but like the rays of sunlight that filter through your window on a Sunday afternoon or a snuggly blanket. I can’t help but smile and lower the picture frame still in my hand for a second. ‘Oh… maybe it’s a sign from the universe or…’ Raising my head, right in front of me is a translucent blue figure… and there’s just no other word for it: a ghost. “Holy…!” I bolt up and clutch the picture in front of me like a shield against an evil monster. ‘But it can’t be a ghost, right? Ghosts aren’t real… are they?’ I chatter at the floating figure seemingly staring back at me. I should be running for the hills or the police… but I stay stuck to my seat, trying to breathe normally in the presence of this figure. I half expect it to turn into some rotting corpse or to shout ‘Boo!’. Instead of any of that or turning into some ghoul or trying to scream and frighten me away though, the pale and see-through figure only hovers before me for a moment like a leaf on the wind. Oddly, once my mind calms down enough for rational though, beyond my initial shock, I realize now that I only feel peace. I should be terrified of this thing… this spirit now hovering in front of me. It shouldn’t exist and if it should, then I should be running for my life or to call the ghostbusters or for an exorcist on the spot without any delay… but I don’t do any of that. The figure, mostly just an outline and rough shapes of a body, then reaches out towards me. As I look down, I see the spectral hand come close to the picture I’m clutching. “Wait… is there something you want from me? Maybe a message from Frankie… or maybe you’re Frankie herself?” I ask, almost as a joke, referring to the photo in the frame. To my surprise, the spectral figure bobs along… almost as if nodding. Intrigued about this sudden turn, everything in my head that I previously thought… all my denial and skepticism, suddenly seems so foolish in the midst of this literal proof of life beyond death. As I look ahead at the ghostly presence, the doubt I once had of the beyond quickly vanishes in a flash. ‘If I’m to believe in ghosts… then… could this… I mean, could this really be Frankie? They nodded when I said her name. So… is it…? Could it really be my Frankie?’ The thought feels like a fool’s hope… but I haven’t had a scrap of any kind of hope since I last saw Frankie in the car that one fateful night, and even this little bit right now is enough to drive butterflies into my belly in a feeling I needed lately. So, shakily, and admittedly hoping beyond measure, I stand up and reach out to the figure. “F… Frankie… is that you?” Just as I’m about to make contact with the entity who just seemingly nodded at the picture of my dead fiancé, they vanish. “No!” I try to reach out, as if I could cling tight to them and hold them close once again forever… but they’re gone completely before I can even twirl a figure around any part of their being. Seconds later, the warm feeling I had vanishes as well. “Frankie…” My fool’s hope sits sourly in my stomach for a moment. The potential of seeing and holding my fiancé again… just to see my Frankie again, just feels like too much… But I then I realize one critical thing and I nearly jump at the notion. “Holy shit! They vanished, but… ghosts! Ghosts exist! Frankie was here! Right here! I… I…” I feel lightheaded from the mere possibilities of what I just witnessed. A ghost! I just saw a real life ghost! ‘This could change everything about what we know and who we are and what lies beyond and…!’ My mind reels with the possibilities of the single but hugely impactful moment I was just apart of. I nearly hop up and down and do a little dance at the very notion. But as I look around my room at the heaps of junk and dust and liquor bottles piled in the sink, I realize a critical fact: if I’m going to be telling anyone about this, I might not be the most reliable resource at the moment. Doubt begins to snake around my mind wickedly. It’s a negative quality that Frankie always tried to help me with. In this case though, it only makes me more cautious at telling anyone… at least until I clean my place up a little bit and confirm that what I saw wasn’t just some figment of my imagination. And so, in a single moment of clarity, my eyes dash to my phone to exercise that caution. Running over, I pick it up and think of the first person to get over here and check if I’ve lost my marbles or not. “Carmen? Yes, yes. Listen… can you come over?” “Liam? Is that you? I…” She pauses. “You know I can come over but… does it really need to be now? Today?” I look back at the spot where I just saw the spectral form of Frankie… or at least I hope I did and then over to the clock, fully realizing the lateness of my call. A little more doubt fills me up, but remembering back to what I just witnessed, I steel my guts and stick to my request from my friend. “Yes, Carmen… today.” Two hours later, I hear the knock at my door that my heart has been beating for since I last laid down my phone and invited Brandon over as well, the group skeptic seemingly a good choice to evaluate what happened to me. Gathering my strength, shaving, cleaning, and just zoning myself in, everything is ready. As I open the door, I just hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself. “Hey you two!” I greet my two friends cheerily. “Hey… bud,” Brandon says nervously as he enters the house first, quickly looking around as if I’m about to prank or murder him on the spot. “Hey… Liam,” Carmen says, looking just as concerned as Brandon still is. “I was kind of surprised to get your message.” She steps in but in typical Carmen fashion, nearly snaps back to me as I close the door. “Pleasantly surprised that is! I just…” She pauses and looks around the house as well… almost like a parent visiting their kid and making sure that everything is okay. “Well… you weren’t answering either of our messages and… well, we were… are kind of worried about you…” I wince a little at the worry I know I caused them. “Yeah… sorry about that. I just… well, you know…” “Yeah, man,” Brandon says quickly wrapping his arm around me. “We do. Which is why we want to take you out drinking tonight. Our treat, okay? Get out of this place and maybe clear your hea…” “Okay, okay. I accept!” I say exasperatedly. A drink actually does sound pretty nice, especially after what I just saw today… but I need to show my friends about it first. I need to make sure that my brain isn’t going completely nuts or whatever. Either way… a drink would be good if I was, or if I really did see what I saw… a drink is definitely going to be needed. “We can absolutely do that,” I confirm before taking a breath, “but I need you all to see something first. Or not!” I wince and shrink back a little, guiding them into the family room where I saw the ghost of Frankie before. “I… well…” I hate how badly I’m stumbling at my words, but I know I just need to push through my nerves and just get it out there. “I think I saw Frankie’s ghost!” There’s dead silence for a moment as both my friends just stare at me with a mixed look of confusion and concern. I sigh. “Yeah, yeah… look, I know how it sounds…” Carmen winces and seems to be trying to go for a diplomatic approach to her words. “I mean… what do you… mean by that? To be honest, Liam, it kind of sounds like you’re…” “Like you’re nuts!” Brandon finishes for her, much to her angry glare afterward. “I’m sorry to say that and I know losing Frankie hit hard. She was a real keeper, man, but… she died, Liam. And…” “And there’s things we don’t understand out there in the world…” Carmen pops back in, “But this… this is…” “I get it, okay?” I admit with a sigh. “Just… I saw something earlier today, so will you two just indulge me this once?” I still see both of their concerns. It’s nice to know I have them in my corner and to see their concern for me… but I need to be sure about this and for them to have a little patience. “Okay, fine… if nothing happens after five minutes, take me for a drink and get me to forget this ever happened, okay? We’ll simply chalk it up to stress or something. Sound good?” Both nod and I take my place on the couch right where I was, before I begin to murmur out a single word. “Frankie… Frankie…” Five minutes later and we’re still nowhere. I thought I felt warmth about three minutes ago now, but it seems like it might have just been a faint breeze filtering in from the vents after Carmen moved to sit down as well. “Dang it!” I slap my lap and hop up. “Liam…” I hear Carmen’s concern, but I just focus on the spot where I saw Frankie’s ghost. “That’s five minutes, man…” Brandon notes somberly, almost as if he was really hoping for my sake that Frankie’s ghost would have shown up. “I just… I don’t understand!” I sigh and it takes everything in me not to spit on the ground or punch a pillow or just yell in pure frustration. “I was sitting right here!” I plop back down on the couch. “And I took her picture frame, and I was holding it and wishing she would be back here.” I try to move the picture frame up, down, left, right… but still nothing. “Liam…” Carmen steps a little closer, her eyes full of worry about me. “Maybe you just wanted to see something. I mean, I’m the first in for this type of thing, but… maybe you just need some sleep… Wouldn’t be such a bad idea, right?” “Yeah, man,” Brandon agrees. “Maybe you just head to bed. We can drink together another night. Tonight…” I shake my head. “No, no! I just… one more minute, please!” I look back down at the object in my hands. “I was holding this frame and then… poof! She was here!” I clutch the frame closely and shut my eyes about as tight as they can go. “Come on Frankie. Come on!” I bite down and focus on the floor before squeezing my eyes, starting to rock back and forth with her picture clutched against my chest. “Please… please… I need you… I need you…” Suddenly, I feel the warmth I felt earlier surrounding me once more. It fills me up to my fingertips, a longing and a comfort I haven’t felt since Frankie last hugged me or when I last saw her ghost. It’s pleasant in a way that I didn’t realize how much I missed it, and I sigh in contentment now that I feel it again. I don’t even need to look up to see what’s transpiring. “What the…?” Brandon stumbles back and clutches the couch at the reappeared spectral figure in front of us now. “Aye!” Carmen plummets to her knees and begins praying. “San Miguel Arcángel, defiéndenos en la lucha. Sé nuestro amparo contra la perversidad y acechanzas del demonio. Reprímale, Dios…” “I told you!” I get up and reach out to the pale blue form in front of me. This time though, the figures’ hands are able to touch mine like one would stick their fingers through a sunbeam. The feeling of warmth intensifies all around, and I feel like electricity is passing through me. “It’s her! It’s got to be her!” “It… it can’t be!” Brandon, the usual skeptic of the group, except when Carmen’s involved with an opinion that is, seems to be struggling just to stay upright in the ghost’s presence. I slap him on the shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s her! It’s Frankie!” By now, Carmen has finished her prayer, and while she looks like a stiff breeze could knock her over as she stands up warily, she still seems mostly overjoyed to see the ghost. Only a second later though, she lights up. “Oh! It is! It is her! Look!” Her finger points to the figures’ head. “It has her hair. Her nose!” Sure enough, as I look closer at the spectral form, I begin to see all kinds of details I hadn’t before. The image beyond the blue sheen of the mist surrounding it is still hard to fully make out, but beyond all that, there’s a face. There’s hair and clothing. I strain to see more and I step forward. But the figure fades… almost as if a huge weight was just placed on her back. In seconds, she’s gone. “Frankie!” I shout out, once again trying to hold her hand to keep her in the room with us… but it’s no use. Moments later, even the warm feeling is gone yet again. “Dang it! That’s the second time today! Why won’t she just stay?” “But… but… it can’t be!” Brandon stumbles out. “But it is!” Carmen counters. “It was her. I…” She turns to me, her face full of wonder and regret. “I’m so sorry I doubted you, Liam. That… that was her! A ghost! I can’t believe it!” “Yeah… I mean… holy shit, dude!” Brandon says, his usual demeanor seeming to come back a little more now. “I mean… that was her. Had to be! Ghostbusters, poltergeist, voodoo, hocus pocus, haunted mansion level stuff right here! And… damn it!” He looks around for a second. “No camera!” I smile at his usual antics but then I turn to Carmen, the one who normally believes whole-heartedly in this kind of thing. “Frankie always said you believed in this stuff. I’m… I’m kind of out of my depth right now. I mean… what just happened?” Carmen winces. “Well… I actually don’t know. Belief is one thing, but this? This is proof that we all saw. This… this doesn’t just happen every day, Liam. I mean… I wouldn’t have a clue where to begin… at least properly.” “So, we’re screwed and just limited to these short little interactions forever then?” I ask, my hope seemingly deflating a little on the spot. To my relief though, Carmen shakes her head, her braided black and blonde streaked ponytail flipping about behind her. “I don’t think so. Remember, I said ‘properly.’ Spirits, from what I’ve ever read about at least, are energy or something like it. I’m not an expert or anything, but I think it takes an effort for them to stay here… at least without a conduit.” “Conduit?” Brandon asks, a little skeptical but definitely intrigued as well. “Yes,” Carmen confirms. “We need a medium or psychic… someone like that. They channel the energy, and you see the ghost… feel their presence more intently through them. In a way, they almost act like a telephone or a lightning road. Again… just from what I’ve only read about before.” I catch on to what she’s trying to imply… or at least I think I do. “Wait… you’re talking about a séance, aren’t you?” Carmen smiles and nods. “That’s right! That’s one of them, and…” She pauses and hesitates for a moment. “Uh, I guess if we’re putting all our cards on the table… I tried to do one for Frankie already.” “Wait… you did?” Brandon asks, sympathy and shock laced deeply in his voice. Carmen sighs. “I did. Spring hit and I saw all the flowers… reminded me too much of Frankie. I was desperate and sad and…” She shakes her head again. “So, I reached out to someone I heard about mainly from one of my friends way deeper into this sort of thing. She actually came into the shop a few times before, but Frankie always dealt with her orders…” “And…?” I press, hoping there’s more to the story. “And we couldn’t make contact,” she notes with a sigh as she then fishes in her purse for something. “She gave the session to me for free. Said Frankie might have moved on, or that I just didn’t have the connection required to make contact. Since it came to nothing, I didn’t want to bring it up… well, until now, that is.” Pulling a single white rectangular object from her purse, she looks at me intently before sighing once more. “Now… well, I guess you have that connection I seemed to be missing though…” I look at the card in her hand skeptically for a second. “I don’t know… Maybe I’m just…” “Hey man… maybe take a leap of faith here,” Brandon shockingly suggests, breaking me from my own self-criticism. “You’re always about the proof of things. And well, I don’t think you’re going to get more on your own ever than whatever we just saw here.” Carmen nods. “And… well, not to be selfish, but… do this for me as well… do it for Frankie.” Not even blinking then she then hands over the card she plucked from her purse. “Please just try, for us, okay?” I nod, realizing that this situation isn’t just about me anymore and take the card from Carmen. “Okay… for you… for Frankie…” The next day, I look back at the card and then up at the sign on the old brick building in front of me. Not even that far away from where I live, ‘Madame Gwendolyn’s Shop of Curiosities’ stands out only slightly on the lively block of Philadelphia. I think Frankie came over here once to get an anniversary gift for me, and if I remember correctly from back then, it was definitely a nice night… but personally, I don’t come down here that often. Brandon and Carmen both wanted to come with me today, but I told them that I needed to do this first step myself. I felt compelled to venture this solo today… I needed to see all this for myself… maybe to check if I was nuts or that we all are. The typical skeptic and the believer are good to have by my side most days… but not in this one case. I needed this lady, real psychic or medium or whatever or not, to just see me. But as I look ahead, to my surprise, the shop seems nice enough. There’s some odd symbols I don’t recognize, and a sign that mentions ‘FCC and MC Welcome Inside,’ which seems a little strange to me… but I just push on inside, a little bell ringing as I do so. Almost immediately, before any other object displayed around the store catches my eye, I see a tall, dark-haired, and admittedly beautiful woman behind the counter. As soon as I step inside fully, she smiles at me and waves. “Evening, darling. What can I do for you?”

Author’s Note/IMPORTANT: Hello everyone, I’m back!! I know it has been so long and I’ve been so incredibly busy lately, but finally I am on my winter break as the holiday’s approach! I’ve been wanting to start a new story for a while but had writers block you could say... I’ve got so many unfinished stories sitting in my files and I realized that I would probably never write something if I didn’t force myself to post it. So here we are! I’ve already got several chapters written and a whole plan for the story so bear with me! However, first, there are several important notes you must be made aware of if you chose to read this story. This is probably my darkest story yet so I don’t know how well it’ll be received. This is a story centered around a religious cult that deals with regression and practices that are, you know, downright illegal and immoral in reality. As well, the wearing of diapers has been normalized through brainwashing and conditioning so even when they seem to be consenting… interpret that how you will. That being said, If religion or noncon isn’t your thing, I suggest you skip this story. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS DOWN BELOW: Religious extremism Brainwashing Forced diapering / regression Forced pregnancy Slavery Forced labour Racism Sexism Homophobia Depression Classist system If you are still around fantastic. Anyways now, onto the synopsis… In the Family of Eternal Light, obedience and purity through prayer and diapers are at the core of the Family’s belief, but not everything is as it is seems. As three woman struggle to find their place in a society ruled by control, they are pushed to their breaking point and find themselves wondering, is this truly worth it? OoOoo Prologue There was a chill in the room that was more than just the draft from the window. Charity Solomon glanced down at her hands that were clasped tightly together beneath the metal table. Her nails dug so harshly into her skin that her knuckles turned white and she was afraid that she would draw blood. But she could not let go. On the table in front of her was an untouched cup of water and a packet of biscuits that she knew better than to take. While she was hungry, Charity knew that was exactly what they wanted. The men who sat before her were no more than sheep in wolves’ clothing. Enforcers of the law with their shiny golden badges and an over abundance of confidence. They screamed: Look at me! Look at me! And Charity looked anywhere but. There was a darkness in the room that she could not shake and a gnawing feeling in her gut that left a bitter taste on her tongue. “Miss Solomon?” The officer sitting to the left spoke. He had a mustache too big for his face and a stomach that made the buttons on his shirt yearn for release. “Please answer our question.” He clicked his pen repeatedly, glancing down every few seconds at the notepad in his hand. She knew not to react. She knew not to show the frustration or anger that brewed inside her. For anger was the first step to corruption and her heart had not yet been darkened. As she shifted her weight in the chair, the crinkling of fabric sounded throughout the room. Charity knew that it was the thick diaper taped around her lower half concealed by her velvet gold robes. The padding was a constant reminder of her devotion to abstinence, her trials for a purified soul and the tribulations from a former life of sin. The loss of her bodily functions was no more a punishment than it was a blessing as she handed over control of her body to The Family of Eternal Light. But the officer didn’t give any indication that they had noticed. Instead, they asked, “How long have you and your husband been married?” How long have they been married? She had to fight to keep the smooth expression over her face for that was a strange thing to question. “I do not believe that I have to answer that.” She could hear the click in his jaw as a heavy breath escaped him and the burly officer beside him sighed, “We are not your enemy.” That’s what they all said. “We only want to help.” “Charity,” The mustache man interrupted. “May I call you Charity?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond because suddenly he leant forward. “A former member of your little group has come forward with allegations of abuse. Would you know anything about that?” He placed the notepad and pen down in front of her on the table where he slid an image into her line of sight. It was a girl. Petite and blonde with large doe eyes… she could only bear to stare at her face for a second. Lingering over the black and blue mark that crept across her cheek, she quickly looked away. “Through pain redemption is earned, only if the disciple is willing to submit.” There’s a heavy silence as the officers are seemingly at a loss of words. A pause later, she continues, “obedience demands correction, and suffering bares its fruit.” Charity watched as the words began to sink in and understanding dawned across their face. Suddenly, in a voice low, the mustached man jabbed his finger at the image. “This girl showed up at the hospital malnourished and beaten… you're saying that she deserved it?” No. It wasn’t something that was deserved. It was something that was demanded. It was an act of wickedness that she brought upon herself and called to be judged unflinchingly. The Family of Eternal Light never faltered. The Family of Eternal Light guided the lost and weary to a new beginning of obedience and submission and patience. Raising her gaze to the ceiling, and then to the cracks in the floor, and to the window across the room… her eyes were as cold as a hot Autumn summer. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her robes, she steeled herself for retaliation. “Whatever you think, you’ve got it wrong. My husband is innocent. The Lord does not act in haste. The deceiver will be punished come judgement day and the deceived will be fortuned greatly-“ “ENOUGH!” Red in the face, the officer’s hand hands slammed down on the table. The mustached man is halfway out of his seat before anyone realized what was happening. “Enough of this religious bullshit! You’ve got it all wrong! We’re not here for your husband. At least not now — We’re here for you.” ooOoo Author’s Note (Again): Just for reference, I graduated with a minor in History. I researched specifically the social structure and different hierarchies of enslaved Africans on plantations in the Deep South in the United States, and the continued effects that racism has in our society today, especially in the prison systems. Much of this story takes reference from that and other events such as forced labour in the prison systems, disproportionate amount of people of color, and current media such as the Handmaid’s Tale! As always, I love when people review and constructive criticism is always welcome, it inspires me to keep writing! Since, Also since I’ve already got a few chapters written, I should post again shortly so stay tuned!

This is my first ABDL story and I hope I can stick with it. I also hope you guys enjoy it and any feed back would be welcome. Chapter 1 The music filled bar turned into a blur of colors as Levi threw back his head to empty the shot of rum down his waiting throat. The liquid burned all he way down and Levi coughed a little and shook his head reactively. “Looks like someone can’t handled his alcohol.” The voice came from his left and Levi glanced over to see a red-headed woman chuckling at him. “I can handled my alcohol just fine,” Levi answered back with tears in his eyes. “I just don’t like to make the shots look bad so I let them think they got the better of me.” He tried to laugh but it turned into a cough shortly after. In truth Levi never could handled his alcohol very well but that never stopped his urge to drink. The woman covered her mouth and giggled. “That’s a good idea. If the alcohol got wind of your strong tolerance it might stop working. It would be a shame if you sobered up on me.” Levi was finally able to stop his coughing and he was able to really take a good look at the woman. She was sitting on the barstool with her legs crossed and swilling her martini with an olive stick. Her auburn hair hung free framing her very pretty freckled face. She was still smiling as she watched Levi with interest in her stunning green eyes. Levi’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to the shapely legs sticking out from under her tight black dress. From what he could tell she would easily be taller than himself; at a lowly five foot four, he was shorter than most adults. “And why would that be such a shame,” Levi answered back. He wouldn’t call himself a ladies man by any means. Usually women were put off by his height, but this woman seemed obviously interested in him. “Planning on taking advantage of me?” She giggled again. “You caught me. In fact I was actually planning on taking one of your kidneys.” Levi laughed. “If that’s all you wanted you could have just asked. I luckily have two and would gladly give one up to a pretty girl like you.” “Be careful now,” She said slyly. “Keep saying things like that and I may start to believe you’re flirting with me, and that may not be very responsible.” “Shit, you’re right,” Levi said, unable to hide his huge grin. This beautiful girl was hard core flirting with him and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t already infatuated. “But then again I didn’t bring a babysitter so I think I can afford to be a little irresponsible.” “Now that just won’t do. An innocent boy out without his babysitter?” She leaned in closer to Levi and took his hand. “I’ll tell you what little one. Because you obviously need looking after, I will be your designated babysitter.” Levi blushed when she called him “little one”. He had always been self conscious about his size but he tried to push it away, knowing she didn’t mean it as an insult. “Hmmm I don’t know,” Levi said, enjoying the game they were playing. “I’m feeling naughty tonight and I’d rather not be reigned in for my lechery.” He pulled her hand up and kissed it. She giggled again and pulled her hand away. “See that’s exactly why you need a babysitter. I will keep you in check and,” she leaned in and whispered the the next part in his ear, “punish you if you misbehave.” Levi felt a shiver go down his spine and he was instantly, and very noticeably, aroused. She leaned back and smiled as she looked down at the front of his pants. “That settles it. I, Becky Roberts, will be your official babysitter tonight. Now, little boy,” she said, overemphasizing the last words, “tell your babysitter your name sweetie.” He was now putty in her hands, and she knew it. “I have the pleasure of being Levi, and I guess I can trust you to be my babysitter, but I can’t promise I will behave.” Levi caught the eyes of the bartender and she came over. “Please make me, and the beautiful redhead here a trash can.” It might have been from all the alcohol he had consumed that night, but Levi was already in love. After about two hours of hard drinking and continuous flirting, they left the bar to get some fresh air and also do a bit of adventuring. The moment they stood up from their stools, Levi saw that she had a good five inches on him, which made him blush and look down at his feet. However, Becky was having none of that and she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bar with a giggle. “What do you do for a living,” Becky asked as they walked down the dark street, hand in hand. “I’m a phleb... a phlebobiss.” When Levi drank, his speech was usually the first thing to go and phlebotomist was not an easy word to say at the moment. “I stick needles in peoples arms. “Oh so your a nurse.” She chuckled. “Little nurse Levi. I would love to see you in one of those sexy nurse outfits.” “I wish I was a nurse. Thay make so much more money than me, and I would rock the hell out of that outfit.” Levi felt a quick swat on his backside; it wasn’t a hard swat but it caught him off guard. “Language little one, or I’ll take you over my knee.” She winked and Levi shivered with excitement. He seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. The girl seemed to know exactly what to say or do to push his buttons. Levi kept worrying he was going to wake up soon and realize she was just a dream, but thankfully that haven’t happened as of yet. “So you take peoples blood then?” “Technically yes, but we are actually collecting the plasma from their blood.” “I hate needles,” she said cringing, “I don’t know how you can do that but it sounds cool.” “Funnily enough I hate needles too, but it’s actually pretty easy.” Levi was starting to feel the urge to pee and thought it best to speak up. “Hey could we maybe walk back toward a bar or something? I gotta use the bathroom.” They were currently walking past houses and to their left was an old elementary school. “Aww does my little man have to go potty,” she said, adopting a childish voice and making Levi blush. “Well have no fear babysitter Becky in on the case, and I’ve got a much better idea!” She stopped abruptly and pointed to the school. “How good are you and climbing?” Levi was taken aback. “You want to break into a school?” “That’s exactly what I want to do and I’m in charge so,” she stuck out her tongue, and pulled Levi toward the chain link fence. Levi had no choice to follow, and after much huffing and puffing, and a hole ripped in his shirt, they were over the fence, and shortly after that, through the window of the school. Thankfuly the window had been unlocked. “Now little man, lets find you a potty.” Once again she took his hand a led him through the school. “The school looked pretty old, though Levi knew it was still in use. However, it was currently the middle of summer so it had been empty for about a month now. Levi had never been to this particular school, but from how familiar Becky seemed to be with it, she must have went here as a kid. “Here we are,” she said, pushing open a door with the name “Miss Fitts” on it. “This in the nurses office and she’s got a much better bathroom than the kid’s bathrooms.” They pushed though the office which was filled with cabinets, cupboards, and a exam table in the center. To the very back was another door which was labeled “bathroom”. Becky pulled him back to the door and grabbed the handle, opening it. “Now can I trust you to go alone, or do want me to help?” Levi laughed and shook his head. “I think I’ll manage. I don’t think the toilet will swallow me up here.” “It had better not,” she said sternly. “I will be very upset if it does. Now hurry along little one, we don’t want you have an accident.” Levi laughed again and pushed into the bathroom. The room looked overall ordinary aside from the toilet, which was obviously made for a child so it was much shorter than he was used to. In his drunken state, he thought he had better sit down to pee rather than risk making a mess of the bathroom. Levi quickly finished up his business, then pulled his pants up, washed his hands, and exited the bathroom. When he came back into the nurses office he spotted Becky smiling at him with both of her hand hiding something behind her back. A drawer was slightly open behind her but Levi was unable to make out any of the contents. “What have you got there,” he asked. “Well,” she said, her smile growing bigger. “Considering the fact that I am your babysitter, I thought it would be fun if we both got more into our roles and as such,” she reveled the object from behind her back and Levi felt his face burn beet red. “No, there is no way I’m wearing that!” “Oh come on don’t be such a baby.” The irony of her goading wasn’t lost on him as he looked at the blue and white Pull-Up in her hands. The thing looked obviously big enough to fit Levi’s smaller frame, and the Blue’s Clues paw prints seemed to be staring at him mockingly. “The fact of the matter is I am not a baby and I don’t need diapers.” Levi folded his arms and looked over at the wall so he didn’t have to look at the thing. “It is not a diaper it’s training pants,” she walked up to him, threw her arms around him, and grabbed his chin. The next thing he knew, her lips were on his and he was lost in euphoria. It was in that moment he knew he didn’t want to be with anybody else for the rest of his life. It just felt right and that magic, everyone was always talking about when they fell in love, Levi felt a thousand times over in that moment. Her lips were warm and moist, and almost as if by impulse, Levi wrapped his arms around her and pushed his fingers into her sweet smelling hair. It was only a few seconds but it felt infinitely longer than those short seconds. When they pulled apart and he looked into her stunning green eyes, they both knew she had won. “Fine I’ll wear the damn thing.” She put her hand threateningly on his backside and warned, “Language.”

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounter Emasculation and feminization through various means and to differnt ends Degredation of human anatomy and mental status This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful as usual these days, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last few stories were with some requiring all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. Unlike my previous story, due to how the system works here, I needed to be very precise in calculating everything out before I wrote a single word down. That being said, some of these chapters have proven to be temperamental and don’t quite make the page count I thought they were going to or are entirely too long for a single one. So, right now, the total chapter count stands at 27, but this is subject to change. Some of the later chapters are mapped out precisely as they are and won’t change, but some of the chapters in the middle may need to be altered or fleshed out to give more growth to these characters here. Which I guess is all to say that if the final tally of chapters changes at all, I will let you all know. Now, as much joy as I’ve derived from this story so far, I need to mention two caveats. First, I have based this story on a CYOA I found years ago. I’ve looked for the creator for at least five years now, but no such luck. I have also modified it for the story a little, but the concept is still there. Also, I should point out that because of some of the themes here, it will be a little coarser and more mature. I will try to give out warnings before some of the more intense scenes, but be warned, this one is not all fluffy diapers and pink princesses. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Looking ahead, I already know that this concept will be a one-off story, so there will not be a sequel in its future. With that in mind, the next poll will contain one DD story and two others that are a little more on the supernatural/spooky side. Because of this, I might try to put out more than three chapters a week and I might take a shorter break, but I think the stories are interesting enough on their own and plus, they have never been shown in one of my polls before. So, be on the lookout for all that next. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing at least three chapters a week. That being said, with 27 current chapters and at least three a week, this will definitively bump into about mid-October, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Once again, I’m headed down to Florida, but this time, it will be for some Halloween-themed events, so you just never know what twisted or fantastical tales I might come back with for new story ideas, so take comfort in the delay with the prospect of at least other future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Starting Off, 35-01 Blindfold. Gag. My hands are behind my back and tied with something… rope, I think. The truck I saw for a brief second before getting hustled up into it has a rusty axel that’s connected to a suspension that bounces heavily each time that we hit a pothole or some other ungodly bump in the road. The sound of cars, machinery… even people… all that vanished at least three hours ago now. In the back of the canvas-drawn over truck, I can feel the intense heat rise all around me as each hour passes and the day creeps on. Thinking back, though, despite my current circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that this is where I ended up… but really, I just wanted a job again. * * * The suited man opens the door for me and gestures inside. I look and blink a few times at the sparseness of what I’m seeing inside the hole that is the room he is gesturing to. “You’re kidding, right?” The older gentleman glares at me from his at least six inches above me. “No. You want the help… you go inside. No questions asked and you follow the instructions… or you’re out. No exceptions.” I wince a little and even turn around to view the door I just came from. I recite over in my head how to make a quit exit in case I need to. ‘Three lefts, down one floor, and through the main lobby and the security there and then out the front doors.’ There, it would be freedom and the life I had… rather than a barren room of unknown before me. But I also know what’s out there waiting for me beyond those front doors. The world sucks for people in my position, and my pride went out the window the first time another bill came in without the funds to fully back even one or two more of them. Simply put… I’m desperate. So, with a deep plunging breath, I go forward into the room. Once inside, with a sigh, I sit in the far metal chair with my back to a mirror… likely a two-way like an interrogation room. I feel the hair stand up on my neck and a growl inside my stomach… warning me to run, but these people have me cornered with the prospect of opportunity. So, even as the main door closes to this little barren room, I can really only just sit there and squash my horrid feelings deep down. Now alone with my thoughts and trying not to assume or think the worst-case scenario, I look around the room and try and check if this is some trick or a test of some kind. ‘No… no hidden messages on the walls… no pen or paper. Not even a whisper of something I should be listening for.’ It’s just me and the singular metallic desk and two hard metal chairs… both cold and unfeeling as they slightly glint off the single overhead light that slightly pendulums back and forth. Gratefully though, not to long after, the door then reopens, and another suited man comes in with a manilla folder. His expression is mostly neutral but his taught features and cropped haircut reek of ex-military and no nonsense. I could immediately feel a tightness in my stomach, one which I try to will away as I shift slightly in the chair. The man then closes the door and sits down calmly and without even a single word back to me before opening the folder out flat on the table. I immediately notice my photo on the upper right holding on by a single paperclip. “State your name for the record,” he commands, taking out a black-cased pen from the inside of his suit jacket. I swallow hard and wish more than anything that a glass of water would have been right there in front of me in that moment. “Jack… Thomas.” The man pauses and looks up at me with a hint of a hateful and annoyed glared in his eyes. “Your full name, Mr. Thomas.” I hesitate for a moment, hating my middle name… always have, but the man keeps staring at me. Maybe if the room was pastel blue and I hadn’t been frisked on my way in, I might have asked a simple ‘why,’ but my present circumstances tell me that any perceived ‘backtalk’ or questioning would be unwise. “Jack… Marie Thomas.” I can’t help but say my middle name with a slight distaste in my mouth. ‘Stupid family name…’ As typically happens, as I say it out loud, despite likely knowing it beforehand and just confirming my identity, even the stern man before me seems to find my middle name amusing… Ultimately though, he says nothing about it. He then uses his pen to go through several more verifications of my identity… social security, gender, age. All typical for someone trying to confirm I am who I say I am. Working for the government before, all that at least doesn’t faze me. But then comes the questions afterward. At first, they seem pretty normal for someone in my situation… like how long I have been unemployed, or, what my financial situation looks like, but then they start to veer towards the realm of being highly uncomfortable as why they would even need to be asked in the first place. Questions like, “Do you have heart troubles?” or “Do you have any family that miss you if you were absent?” are among the more particularly alarming. Finally, after he asks me if I’ve ‘had any surgeries,’ I can’t take it any longer. “Okay!” I shout, standing up and forcing my chair backward toward the likely two-way mirror. “No more questions! I’ve answered everything from my size to sexual preference to even if I have any allergies to medications or latex! What the hell does that have anything to do with finding a job?” The suited man glares at me and calmly stands up, towering over me. “Sit down, Mr. Thomas. These are all vital questions, I assure you… and we’re almost done.” His calm presence slightly infuriates me and only adds to my already-present anger. “Sit down? That’s all?” I smack the table. “Screw this, mister! I’m getting out of here right this second!” I march toward the door, but as my hand touches the doorknob, the man speaks up once more. “Mr. Thomas… Jack.” He calmly walks over to me and stands right up against my left side, staring down at me… not with rage or annoyance, but almost a calm passivity of a parent to a child. It more than halts my efforts in leaving right away. “You will find no locks on these doors or any others in this building toward the exit. You are free to go anytime you please...” Determined and still disturbed, my hand turns the knob. “Well, then. I’m getting the hell out of…” “But I encourage you to stay,” he says resolutely in a way that stops my hand cold… almost like he knows something I don’t. He then walks back over to the desk and retrieves my file before switching it to one of the pages on the left side. “It says here you’ve been out of a job for about a month now, which you also just confirmed for me. I’ll stop the questions, but… let’s talk about that for a second.” He pauses briefly. “Promise. Nothing more.” I hesitate to move back to the table, but I at least remove my hand from the doorknob and reface him. If nothing else, he seems happy about that. “Good. Now, come back to the table and sit down. Or stand… I just want to lay out your options here, Mr. Thomas.” I grumble and nearly leave on the spot, but there’s an odd quality about this man that makes me stay. I don’t know what it is, but that intangible quality eases me up a little. So, at least curious now, I walk back over to my chair… but I don’t sit down. “Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He calmly flips through several pages in my file. “So, again… you were laid off from your job about a month ago, correct?” “Correct,” I confirm, feeling a little deflated at admitting that. “I knew it was coming though. I’ve been working part-time for almost eight months now. Budget cuts and all…” The suited man nods. “Yes. The economy isn’t doing wonders at the moment and there have been several cuts to federal programs. Seems like your program was hit but you managed to linger on… at least until last month.” “Yes,” I admit, my ego deflating even more. “And from your earlier confirmation and from what it says from the application you filled out online that you’ve been looking for a job since then?” he asks before looking up at me. “But nothing since?” I shake my head. “Nothing serious. Small positions. Some part-time work I’m looking at in the meantime, but… I need something more. You can’t live in this area without something steady anymore.” “Yes…” The suited man’s eyes nearly seem to glow with opportunity, happiness, and another quality underneath that would amount to something nearly sinister. I focus on that last bit. “I see all that on your file here. Some college debts remaining… ouch on those, but a car payment… three years from paying off, and…” He looks back up at me and squints his eyes. “No savings?” I shake my head, and I feel I can’t sink any lower now in this room, sitting in the chair in a slump of built-up defeat before this mysterious figure… a deflated and defeated individual. “No… I have some savings, but… the form asked if I had less than $1000 in savings… which I do. So, yes, some saving, but not enough to check off the box indicating something higher.” “I see… so practically nothing and you’re living on fumes now as well…” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as my silence does plenty of talking alone. “So, you see, Mr. Thomas… when I ask you these questions… I know they may be intrusive, but honestly, this is for a government position and what amounts to an ultimate handout. With the economy and layoffs recently, I’m sure you can understand that we have many candidates in search of work or money these days.” He lets his points hang in the air for a moment, each one a painful reminder of my desperation and how close I am to failing completely. I wished I could say I had backups or a plan to bail me out, but that would be a lie. My parents are far away and broke themselves after sinking their money into some long-term investment. My brother is too busy with his wife and a new kid on the way… and we aren’t even that close. And friends? Well, I’m not exactly a social butterfly and the loss of my job hasn’t helped with that any in finding new ones. The suited man has me cornered and while the door is unlocked… it might as well be a safe door as far as I’m concerned for leaving through it now. Despite my apprehension, I know that this is one of the few chances I have to get out of the hole I’m digging myself further into every day. And terribly, the suited man knows it. His underlying smile, so subtle as to almost even be unseen, ripples along and emphasizes my desperation and his next question. “So… may I continue?” Submissive to his whims and with the knowledge that I have nowhere else to turn, I merely nod my head. He smiles, but this time his glee is obvious over my compliance with what he wants. “Excellent. Now,” he flips another page from the right side of my file, “do you have any fetishes… sexual deviancies? I really try not to judge… Purely for the record.” An hour later I’m back out on the street in Washington D.C. It’s been my home for years now, but lately it’s felt more like a self-contained prison. Each Brutalist building contrasts heavily with the Greek Revival ones, but each seems like a slap in my face now as I pass by them. ‘That’s where I used to work…’ is my constant theme these days, and each day that passes without a solid job, those words feel more distant. So, in an attempt to blur my lines of what is real and what is crushing, I head to the nearest bar I can remember. It’s a small little thing and usually a pretty quiet behind the Archives building… mostly a place for stuffy politicians or glassy eye curators. For me, though, I just order a beer and sigh as I look down into it and the bubbles fizzing up from the bottom. It’s a small distraction, but it still work its magic and let’s me forget for a second… “Pretty shit, huh?” the bartender asks out loud, catching me off guard. I look up with bleary eyes and squint back at him as he polishes off another glass with his dish towel. “Huh?” He gestures to the nearby small TV, almost looking at odds with the rest of the older style bar in the district. Still, unlike most others in the city, it displays the news instead of sports. Most newcomers request to change it, but that’s not what this place is about, and they’re always shot down. In this place, it’s all about governmental policy and change. So, when I look up at the TV and see yet another news report, it’s not surprising, but the headline opens my eyes more than I care to admit. “Government eases testing standards for new programs.” It could be worse, especially in the modern climate, but still… it makes me wonder. “Hard to believe. Maybe chickens won’t be tested as well or something. Saving a buck or two, I guess…” I shrug, not really knowing the answers and not being surprised by most anything on the news anymore. The bartender eyes a nearby chicken sandwich with more than a little unease but ultimately collects it and comes back. “Maybe, but… ready for another round tonight?” He gestures at the once full beer in my hands currently. I sigh and stare at my nearly empty glass. I want another, but ultimately, I shake my head. “No, would love to but…” I don’t finish my thoughts and simply pull out my only 20-dollar bill and hand it over. From the change I get back, I am sure to still leave a decent tip. I might be screwed these days, but I just can’t find it in myself to tip poorly. I walk back to my apartment rather than taking the metro. It saves me a little money, and the walking feels good… despite the fact that the weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year. It especially doesn’t help as I make my way up the flight of stairs and to my actual apartment. Little beads of sweat are already pouring from my forehead as my keys turn to my barebones living space. With my previous job, I was never here much before, so I never felt the need for more. Now though, especially as I immediately go back to job hunting and checking my email, it feels especially lonely. Tonight however, while I’m looking through my emails, I see what I’ve been looking for now for a month. The newest email in my inbox blinks and is all in bold. “Your application has been accepted.” It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down in joy after reading the header of the fresh and beautiful email message. “Yes! Finally!” I briefly stifle my joy and check out the job… just in case of spam. To my utter relief, it seems all legitimate. So, not wasting a second, I quickly reply back to set up an interview. My hand nearly shakes the whole time I’m writing the email back to them. I can feel the electricity of the potential in the moment. It feels like… freedom… opportunity. Once I hit send though, I allow the waves of euphoria to fully pour through me. I’m electric… thrilled… jubilant. I jump up and after even do a little dance before snapping my fingers. “This calls for a celebration!” So, once more, I grab my keys and head out my door to the nearest convenience store. It’s small and a little dingy around the back, but they have a great selection of chips and ice cream… perfect for a little late night snack celebration. I almost go for chocolate and cherry, but considering the heat and the occasion though, I grab my favorite flavor of chocolate and peanut butter. It feels so good to clutch that pint of cold deliciousness in my hand and I even whistle slightly as I checkout. “Man, I wish I could be that happy about something,” the store owner tells me. “Oh, it feels great,” I acknowledge. “Just got a job application back and I’m waiting to set up an interview. I can honestly say that it’s the best news I’ve had in a month.” The store owner’s eyes light up and he smiles wide. “Congratulations, sir! Best of luck to you on that,” he says, handing me the receipt with nearly a bounce in his words now. Most people know the horrible state of the economy and the huge numbers of joblessness. An interview was always great before, but these days… it’s an even bigger deal. I smile even wider and take my receipt. “Thank you! I really think things are just about to turn the corner for me…” I then exit the store and head back to my apartment. I’m humming along the darkened street… a few lights out from the lack of maintenance. Crime is up in the area, but my apartment isn’t far, and I almost have developed sixth sense about these things by now. But I’m happy. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I’m nearly in bliss. There’s something so alluring and free about the prospect of an interview for me. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel and a beacon of hope I can turn toward through the rough storms that is my life at the moment. It should all be grand. I’m even whistling a bit once again and focusing just on what is in front of me. I’m distracted. I don’t hear the crack of a twig on the sidewalk behind me like I normally would. I don’t pay attention to the rubber turning on the pavement off to the side or the deft footsteps on the alleyway down on my left. I’m oblivious to all other things other than my own happiness that yes, I’ve turned the corner in life. Yes, most absolutely, things will be different. Turns out… just not in the way that I wanted. The personnel that surround me are very quick. Professional, burly, and imposing masked figures. They bear no insignia, and I can’t make anything out of them except their maybe six inches to a foot in height and maybe 30 pounds of muscle over me at least. One gets me from behind and places their hand over my mouth with some kind of cloth. Two go for my arms quickly after and lock me into place. The fourth goes for my legs in a vice-like grip. I can’t move and I’m being hauled away… right down the darkened alleyway and into a van. I try to scream. I try to flail around… but it’s useless. I’m useless. I’m packed into the black van in seconds, and I hear the side sliding door crunch over on its tracks and then slam shut before the vehicle lurches away. I barely move with how I’m still being held. No voices around me. Just hand signals and quick and efficient meaty hands that go to work around me. I’m locked in and I can’t do anything about it. Darkness starts to envelop me. The van is dark and curtains black out most of the light, but quickly, I know with terrifying horror that this is something more. My limbs become heavy. The fight inside me begins to fade whether I wish for it or not. I want to kill these people… at least scratch or beat them senselessly and flee back into the night and up to the relative safety of my apartment. But those are the actionable desires of someone fully conscious. Simply put, that isn’t me anymore. A hand is still over my mouth. Though the edges of my world begin to blur, I still smell something chemical in front of me. ‘The white rag covering my mouth and nose must be laced with something.’ There’s no other rational explanation for how I’m feeling right now. It’s a terrible sinking feeling in my gut. But it doesn’t matter. The figure that was once holding my legs now comes over to me, and while the van is still mostly black, a flash of light streams in from the front and highlights the metallic cylinder precariously balanced in their hands. The needle at the tip almost seems to sparkle and drip with something magical and yet unwanted. I’m not a genius, but it doesn’t take one to realize what is about to happen. With my last efforts of strength, I thrash about. But again, I’m useless. Before, it was the locked position of the personnel holding and pinning me in place. Now, I feel their grip is still locked but now significantly loosened. If anything, my efforts against them come off as simply pathetic. So, whether I wish it or not, the person takes advantage of my uselessness and weakness and comes forward. Before I can even attempt to scream out, he quickly jabs the needle right into my arm. It burns heavily and I wince and try to scream in pain as it plunges deep. But again, I’m useless. I’m powerless to stop anything, and worse… the blackness, at first creeping, now surges forward around my vision like a crashing wave. Now, there is nothing more. I feel nothing. I am nothing. * * * The bumps that jostled me awake earlier are no less smooth now than they were previously from what had to be at least three hours ago. I have to pee something fierce but the truck I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in has shown no signs of stopping. Occasionally, I hear something on the radio or hushed whispers, but that’s about it. I could forgive anyone from thinking that it meant I didn’t know anything. True, I couldn’t hear or really touch anything, but my other senses were ever more focused. I had watched a documentary last year about a woman who fled her kidnapper and because she remembered the sound of a train going by not long before the car she was in stopped, the police were able to later apprehend her kidnapper. So, drawing at least a few parallels between our situations, as soon as I had come to my senses, I tried to figure out anything I could in this less-than-ideal situation. The road was rough and bumpy. As I noted before, it’s what jostled me awake after I had passed out in D.C., but that was another prominent thing. Also, yes, it was summer in D.C., and the old swamp area was particularly humid, but now… it is still hot around me, but more of a dry heat. I feel the sweat accumulate slightly around my body in the back of the truck… likely poorly ventilated and maybe even open to the outside in places. I’m not entirely sure about that, but the heat and lack of humidity tell me that I’m nowhere near to where I live. Potentially problematic, yes, but also telling. Loving to travel, I’ve been to most of the surrounding states near D.C., and what’s absolutely certain, nowhere right now is receiving dry heat as their weather forecast right now. It’s either something akin to the swamps of Satan or the near drownings of a wretched batch of storms in the areas… not this. So, I begin to check off in my mind where I could be. ‘Definitely west of the Appalachian Mountains… but no cold or extreme breezes of the Rockies… plus maybe too far. Back roads definitely… so not near a city. No traffic lights either, since we haven’t stopped once, so that kills a lot of places as well. Figure a straight drive since last night and the amount of heat… intense and not boiling but growing… means early or midday… but that also would only place me somewhere along just east of the Mississippi longitude from when I was kidnapped last night to now.’ I paused and winced. ‘No… that’s not right, so… crap. Was I out for a whole day already? My bladder… shit. I’m even further west. Maybe a full day then… Still a big area though. Doesn’t narrow it down too much, but it’s something.’ I hope I’m wrong in most of that in a way, since going to a barren area hardly ever spelled something good, but considering I was kidnapped already… my luck doesn’t seem that good. The truck bounces me about a few more times and my need to pee is near to the bursting point. I try thinking about almost anything else, but that’s proving an issue. Between my hunger, my bladder, and my confinement, I nearly feel bugs crawling over my skin in a near phantom itch to move… to run. Just… anything more than this. I try to speak, but the gag prevents anything but a muffled sound emitting instead of the pleas to let me go or at least let me move around that I truly intend. It does attract the attention of my kidnappers though… “Hey, you!” a gruff voice nearly growls at me. “Cut that out. We’re almost there, so just sit tight. We can’t hurt you, but we can make your last moments out here very miserable.” I feel a hand shove me slightly back. “So… what’s it going to be? Stay calm or are we going to have to get… creative?” I sense his threat is exactly that. There was no hesitation or even any signs of a bluff on his part. This man, whoever he is, seems to have both done this before and be pretty okay with it and whatever else was necessary in his role to subdue me. So, weighing my options, considering my current state of being trapped, mute, and blind… I settle down and don’t say a word. The man chuckles. “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…” His words do nothing to help the already pent-up and dreading feeling I had since I had been taken. Still, despite his gruffness and threats to use possibly violence or torture or some other nasty thing against me, the man was at least telling the truth that we would soon arrive. The van quickly lurches to a stop. A few shuffling noises later, my blindfold is finally removed. I have to blink a few seconds as the light streams all around me from the windows in the front and the back. I find it strange that the van is so open like that now as compared to last night with the curtains on the windows, but the figures in front of my vision fully distract me from any further thoughts on the matter. Masked and geared to the hilt, they exude an ex-military vibe that I often saw in my previous job when dealing with mercenaries and security personnel we contracted out for our safety sometimes. Not saying a word, the lead man then points out the door that is soon opened. More light floods in and I look back to the man who gestured to the door for more answers. I’m not sure why he isn’t just using his words, but at this point, I remember the veiled threat before. Whatever this is, I absolutely don’t want to make it uncomfortable… or at least more so than it already is. The man simply waves his hand at me out the door. I take his meaning this time to exit the vehicle. I’m still gagged, and my hands are bound together tightly… uncomfortably at this point, but again, I don’t want to cause any more problems for myself. Simply put… between the dry heat, the backroads, lack of traffic lights, and the amount of time it took to get here and stop, I don’t like my chances of escape. Terrifyingly, my suspicions are confirmed when I exit the vehicle. Desert… or at least at best a barren wasteland of dried-up prairies stretches for what seems like miles in all directions. Hazy mountains flank to the west, and to the east… nothing. I think I see a shimmering glint of maybe a tower… a fence… something, but definitely not civilization. If anything, even those signs of something else seem to reinforce the barrenness of where I’m currently standing. Another masked and geared man comes up to me and holds up a tablet of sorts near my head before glaring right at me. “Confirm… Jack Maria Thomas,” he directs right as another man removes the gag from my mouth from behind. I smack my mouth together a few times in an effort to remove the nasty threads left on my tongue. I can already feel the dryness of a lack of water from all that time, but I also see the masked man’s eyes. Sharp, focused… full of duty, sternness, and no-nonsense. I saw the same in the other man and I know not to screw around, but I know I need to try. “Please… just let me go and…” “Confirm,” he presses again, this time with a small amount of anger behind his voice and one of his fingers seemingly itching toward the stock of the gun he’s carrying as well. I swallow hard at the scene, and I nod as fast as I can. “Yes… that’s me.” I take a breath. “But what…?” “Silence.” His voice isn’t annoyed, angry, or even shrill like I might has expected. Just more to the point and focused on the task he seemingly has to perform. To me, it seems we both have our roles to fill… ‘Definitely not the overall leader of this thing.’ The man taps a few more things on the tablet before him, before strangely looking dismayed. I almost question him, but with everything going on around me, my thoughts bounce from one subject to the next and his looks take a momentary backseat. My vision moves from the desert landscape to the horizon line, to the distant mountains, to the men with guns… and then even to what I am currently wearing. Before, back in D.C., I was still wearing the suit I had worn to the interview earlier in the day. I had removed the suit jacket once I got home, but the button-up shirt and pants were definitely still attached to me. Now, they’re gone and in their place is a faded green prison jumpsuit of sorts. I swallow hard at the implications… Finally looking up from his tablet, the man looks at me once more. “Okay… here’s your situation. In a moment, you’re going to a bunker of sorts. You will be there for one year, and at the end… you’ll get a substantial payout for your services.” I frown back at him in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, my eyes still drifting to the rifle attached to his body. ‘Definitely not where I thought this was going…’ “I see you have questions,” the man notes, stepping closer to me, “but they will have to wait. We need to do two things right now. First, know there are only three ways out of this.” He holds up one finger. “First… quit. You do that and all the money reserved for you at the end will be forfeited, and you will receive no government assistance of any kind afterward.” He holds up a second finger. “Two… flee. You try to escape, and…” He pivots over and points to the shiny point at the distance I had seen earlier. “You see that?” I quickly nod. “Good. That’s a watch tower. They’re all around you,” he notes menacingly as he gestures in a circle around where we’re standing before he rests his hand on his large gun. “They have guns just like this one… or even much larger. You escape; they have the option to shoot you on sight. You survive; you go back and incur a penalty… a harsh one.” He glares at me. “I wouldn’t suggest that route.” I wince but note internally that there’s still one more option. “And third?” I ask hesitantly, the first two options seeming truly terrible and hoping beyond measure that somehow the third would be more reasonable. “Third…” He smirks down at me, his few inches of height over me seemingly a lot more in our current roles. “Well, third is that you finish the year here. It might seem like a burden and impossible in the days ahead, but considering the others, I would still recommend option three.” Again, I quickly nodded. Another person, feistier and more combative might have fought, but that wasn’t me. I was trying to use my head, and simply put, I saw my options and the remoteness of where I was. Fight, escape, and flee, but to where? Out here, even if I managed to avoid the towers with big guns, my survival out here wouldn’t be guaranteed in the slightest. So, as much as a little voice inside my head was telling me to, my instincts told me as plain as day that fighting back would be pointless… foolhardy at best. “Very good. Maybe there’s hope for you after all…” He smirks and turns back to his tablet before holding it back up to me. “Now then… in you go…” I blink back at the man and look around. “Go? Go where?” The man points nearby and while I have to squint my eyes to see it, only about thirty yards away is what amounts to a slit in the ground. Only about 20 feet long, I see the ground plunges inward and leads to a submerged door right under the surface of the soil above. All of it concrete… devoid of emotion… uninviting. I feel a cold splinter of fear enter my heart. “Wha… what’s down there?” I ask, a weakness and subsequent trembling sensation beginning to take over my limbs as the true measure of my situation begins to unfold before my eyes. “That…” the man noted smugly. “That… is your new home for the next year… or at least the entrance to it.” He pauses for a minute, but me still not budging, the man then scowls back at me and raises his rifle barrel to my chest. “Now… I said to move. Or are you going to be giving us a problem already?” I see his rifle. I see the desperation of my situation being stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by towers that had ‘shoot on sight’ orders. It was horrible, but it was that or the unfeeling bunker-like entrance now before me. Underground and heavy duty… there now seemed to be a permanence to my situation that I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t want to go down there. That’s for sure. I had read and heard about these things before… down there meant torture or death or imprisonment. I would be lucky to ever see the sun again. But… the gun in the hands of a scowling and tough ex-military masked figure before me presents an unmistakable choice, death or compliance. Unlike the previous man in the van before, the one in front of me had made no such promises of not hurting me. Somehow, the van ride now felt like the preliminary phase of all this, but now that I was here, the stakes of it all… the reality and actual event seem to be at my feet now. I didn’t like it… but I knew my options… and their limits. So, I meekly raise my still-bound hands as best to surrender and walk over to the entrance… no fight… no protest… Again, despite him still aiming his gun center-point at my chest, he smiles and soon follows me over to the slit in the ground that is to be my ‘home’ for the next year. Stopping right before the steps to the door, I turn around and hold my bound wrists up. “Can I… well, can I at least be free before I go down?” I try to widen my eyes and seem as desperate as possible. I want to stay strong, but I felt there was a wide gap between entering the creepy bunker with my hands bound versus them free. So, I had to try at least. There’s a grumble and an annoyance from my masked captors, but the main leader nods his head to one of the other men behind me. This new masked man comes at me hard and quickly flicks out a long knife from one of his chest pockets. It shines underneath the desert sun; glinting and deadly. I wince and shut my eyes… painfully aware that I’ve likely lost the protection that was once promised to me before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, with everything going on, I’m no longer taking anything for granted… not even my safety or my life. But the man only ambles over, roughly takes my wrists, and cuts the rope that was binding them together. I open my eyes and see my now free wrists. “Thank you…” I muster out. The man only grunts and turns away… leaving the leader to point his gun once more at me. “Alright… you’re free. Now, down you go.” Again, his actions are clear, and his gun speaks the volumes that he doesn’t. It says threat and deadly force is now authorized on my hide. It says this is serious business and whatever awaits me in the hole, in case I already knew what was happening, isn’t going to be much better… or at least to the point where they would need to threaten me with entering or face down death itself. I rationalize that most things are better than death and then place my foot on the first step going down. My knees wobble as I turn around full now and head down the stairs. The morning sun begins to arc overhead and fill the hole with light, showing off all the dust floating around in such a barren climate. I see the door ahead of me… it’s shine in stark contrast to the rusted stains on the concrete around it… almost like the place had recently been repurposed… like I was the first guest to come here in years and precautions to keep me in needed to be upgraded. Seeing all that, my hands tremble as they reach out to the large wheel to open the door before me now. But, just in case, I turn around and look one last time at the leader. “I…” I don’t get to finish my thought… my counter to all this, hoping to plead one more time to leave. Instead, the man points his gun at me, but this time… he also makes sure to place his eye along the top rail of the gun, aiming at me with deadly precision. His new actions are clear to me now. Get into this bunker-like structure underground now and be a smear against the door instead. With such an ultimatum, I snap back to the door. I reach out with both hands this time and turn the wheel. It creaks and moans in an awfully hellish way like I am about to enter the very bowels and devilry of the earth. My stomach drops more, and I feel a single bead of sweat perspire on my forehead as the wheel finally budges. It turns and turns some more… the door finally opening. Inside is just another set of stairs downward. Darkness enshrouds more than a few feet, and I hesitate, but my ears pick up the faintest clicking noise. With my last job and growing up with a few who took me to a shooting range, I knew that sound… it was a gun loading its ammo… the weapon aligning with the bullet. Next stop, my head… my body. I have no choice. I don’t even turn around this time to plead to be let go or question a thing. I simply walk forward to my fate, sheer blinding light behind me and nothing but cold concrete and darkness before me. I swallow hard and give myself over to be swallowed by the earth and whatever this place is. Fully in, the door slams behind me. To my relief a few lights flicker on ahead of me. The stairs don’t descend as far as I originally thought but the ominous cramped feeling of all this place gives me a terrible case of claustrophobia. I immediately want out, but a quick turn of my head only reveals a thoroughly shut door behind me… and no handle or even a wheel to let myself out even if I chose that option and forfeited the end prize. Now, whether I want it or not, I’m truly trapped. Suddenly, a speaker overhead crackles to life. The sound coming from it takes a second to synch and come in as more than static, but even in the old-fashioned clicks and echoes of a speaker system at least thirty years old now sounds like, the words are very clear. “Keep moving.” I don’t know why, but I merely nod my head in compliance. I can’t go back. The sealed door and lack of egress proves that at least ten times over in my head. I can only go forward, and now with the lights… it’s not just wandering around blindly in the dark. It’s a concession for sure as to how far I’ve fallen into this terrible plot seemingly against me, but again… I feel I have no choice, or at least not a real one... Wandering down the staircase, holding onto the rail the entire time, I eventually come to a landing zone of sorts before another door. The speaker in front of me this time crackles once more. “Scan your hand on the pad in front of you.” I look and that beyond the grungy metal fittings and the leaking concrete in places, there is a brand-new electronic system… right next to where there is a large pad. It blinks a few times and then stops. Looking around, I don’t see any traps, so, I sigh and place my hand on the pad as instructed. The pad hums and blinks a few times before turning green. “Excellent,” the voice behind the speaker says once more. “You may proceed inside.” A hiss follows and the large metallic door before me opens wide. “Step in,” the voice calls out overhead. Not wanting to stay any longer in the hallway than I need to, I step inside… only to wish I saw just about anything else. Inside is only what I could describe as a jail cell. A simple plastic-like faded green bed has been shoved against one wall. The most basic metallic and uninviting toilet and sink are against another. A barred door is at the other end and as if I didn’t remember for whatever reason, the other door behind me slams and hisses close. Curiously, as I turn back, I am only greeted by a flat wall with a single seem around the edges of where the door had opened up. It’s all cold, barren, and unfeeling… except the electronic device in the corner of the room. Compared to everything else, it seems out of place. Not much larger than an oversized notebook, it blinks to life, and a single plain computerized image of a person appears. “Come here,” the voice from before says without emotion, now sounding more like a computer recording than an actual human being. I step forward cautiously and for whatever reason, I wave at the thing. “Hello?” “Greetings… candidate 35-01.” Again, the voice grates and there’s almost a synthetic whine behind it as well. “Please confirm identity and place hand on screen where indicated.” Like before, I see the blinking panel just to the left of the computerized plain head staring back at me. I sigh and place my hand where instructed. “Jack Marie Thomas.” I was starting to get annoyed at having to say my name… particularly my middle name, so often. A ping goes off and the voice returns. “Welcome, 35-01… Mr. Thomas. You have been selected by the government from a contest of over a thousand candidates to participate in a year long study and observation, known to authorities as ‘Operation Hebe.’ During this time, you will be required to make certain selections in order to facilitate your life… benefits or consequences.” The screen then changes to a counter, but to my dismay it starts simply at 100 and then counts down to only 5. “These are your starting points. As you will see, think of these as a money system of sorts. The more you have, the more you can obtain. All candidates are assigned what you will find labeled as the ‘jail cell.’ You may opt out of this at any time but know that your points can never equal less than zero. Answer, ‘acknowledge’ that you understand this.” Seeing the numbers count down to only 5 quickly gives me an uneasy feeling in all this. I feel queasy… faint and dizzy too. I nearly fall over right then, but I place one hand against the wall at the last second and take a deep breath. “Acknowledge.” The words feel like poison over my tongue, but I don’t see many other ways out. “Recorded.” The screen then flickers briefly and then changes to a large screen with several labels on it. Even in my brief look before it flashes away, I see two labels… listed as ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners.’ “What the fu…?” “Please, 35-01,” the electronic and mostly faceless voice interrupted. “Look through these first few categories that are mandatory. We will give you some time to choose as we know this may be a shock to your system, but your non-compliance will be met with punishment.” The screen flashes back to the selection options. ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners’ appears, but so do others before the screen switches once again to one labeled at the top as ‘Medicine Effects at 6 Months.’ My eyes instantly widen in shock at the options… particularly with the flashing ‘Selection of One Mandatory’ sign near the top, highlighted all in red. “Hair growth? Incontinence? Penis shrinkage? IQ drop?” I yell out at the screen to where I once saw the lifeless computerized head of the only voice I had been hearing down here. “What the hell is this place?” I smack the bars next to the screen, but there is no response. It’s just me here… me alone with these horrid options. Me alone in a self-described ‘jail cell.’ Me alone after being kidnapped and now confirmed to be part of the government. I slump on the bed in realization of everything clicking together. “The government… the interview I did…” Me, the homeless, ex-government employee walked right into this trap. I wanted a job, and now… for the next year, I seemed to have one. My mind swirled, but it didn’t last long. “35-01. Please make your choice. You now have one hour to make your choices… or suffer the subsequent punishments,” it calls out, its electronics seeming fragile in this state as it droned on. I look over at the still-flashing screen and the selection I have to make. Considering the methods that were employed to get me here… the guns… the towers… the desert… even the bunker I was now in. It all leads me to the same conclusion… punishments mean business here and finding out what they were was ill-advisable to say the least. I sigh and stand up. “Fuck… this is going to be a very bad year…”

Deep in the archives of the FBI's Vault of records are cold cases, of which less than half are public record. A small portion of that considered cold and unconfirmed. Amongst these records is a sealed bag of a hand-written note in red crayon and a larger than normal baby bottle, thus the aptly named cold case 'The Message in the Baby Bottle'. Records indicate this bottle was discovered on 5/13/20 by a riverboat casino in Arkansas, but the message within was contaminated by the citizen who found it, opened it, and read it. Still, lab records note organic debris that could be found as north as Iowa or Illinois, so is the estimated origin point. This case has only been picked up by two agents since it was brought to the FBI. The first agent dismissed it as a joke, prank, dare, or musings of a bored teenager in COVID lockdown, and the case was recently picked up for review, who has recently amended the report with her findings. EVIDENCE #2: The Crayon Scribbles Please help. My name is Jake Borden. Two years ago, I was a month from graduation ... I had no plans and I was fine with that. I just wanted to be free of school for a little bit before I worried about my next school. In that month, one day, everything seemed fine at home but when I got to school, my classes had been shifted around to junior level. I was pointed back to my classes from the year before, to sit with younger students, and act like it was normal. My friends didn't see it as a weird and I thought... it was so prank. Maybe every senior had to go through this in the last month before graduation. So I shrugged it off, enjoyed the easy classes, and went about the rest of my day. Then it happened again. The next day, I was told I was in the wrong classroom and pointed to my sophomore teachers. No one else was getting this treatment so I figured... okay, it's me. It's a prank against me and I decided to be cool about it. I took the easy classes, laughed it off, and said the next day, I'd be in freshman classes, which I was right. All day, I grinned, joked, and enjoyed the ride. I thought at the end of that school day, I'd get a 'surprise' and explanation... but that didn't happen. Nothing happened. The day ended, everyone went home for the weekend, and I hoped by Monday, I'd get my answer. But it got worse. The next day, rather than walking to school, my mom said the bus was ready for me. I hadn't taken the bus since 8th grade. I'll admit... I should have thrown a fit there. I should have asked more questions, tried to figure out what was going on... but I thought this must be an organized prank or lesson by my parents. They weren't happy I hadn't applied to any colleges and had no plans, and they were punishing me with some elaborate, organized prank with my old teachers. I was stubborn and thought I'd show them. I'd love these classes, enjoy my time, and not feel whatever they were hoping I'd feel. I took the bus, joked around with these young idiots, swept through all of my classes with ease, and did it all with a grin. But no one at home seemed to care or be bothered. I told my parents I had a great day in 8th grade and they acted like it was normal. My little sister Shannon was even much the same, which I was initially impressed she could hold it together. Then the next day was 7th grade. It was probably here I started getting nervous. How far was this going to go? Was I going to take the same classes the next day with my sister in 6th grade? I tried asking questions, but my parents seemed confused... like I had never been in 8th grade at all, let alone the day before. My phone also disappeared and that sent me into a panic. All of my life was in that thing and it was just gone. I had a huge meltdown and mom let me stay home from school that day (called me in sick to the middle school). I thought maybe that would be the end of it. They'd give me my phone back, prank done, lesson learned. Nope. Next day, 6th grade. No one could rationalize why I was in the same grade as my sister when I was 18 and she was 12. But my mom gave me the weirdest look and told me straight to my face "you're both 12". Dead serious, no hint of a joke. I tried demanding my phone back, I tried walking to school, but dad put his foot down. He dragged me back to the car and drove me to the middle school, since I had missed the bus, and scolded me the entire drive like I was 12. I don't know what I should have done differently. I acted out, I wrote "I'M 18" on the chalkboards, on any handouts I got.. eventually I was sent to the nurse, who cleared me, and then given detention for the next day. I was scolded again at dinner for 'being a brat'. But I never got that detention. By the next day... I was back in elementary school. 5th grade. I relived puberty lessons and talked as if I hadn't gone through it. I was surrounded by 'friends' that were children, all acting like I belonged there and it was normal. I was in 4th grade by Friday and no one was listening to me. Every day, I was reliving ... I think the movie is called Groundhog's Day but like... worse. I kept repeating myself, having to explain to everyone that I was 18, I should be graduating high school this month, and I didn't belong in any of these classes. The reactions went from annoyed to concerned, and then when I really hit the lower grades, to mild amusement. Like I was some fucking kid making up a story to the adults. All weekend, having finished 4th grade on friday, I tried begging my parents to stop the lesson. I'd learned, I'd apply to college, I'd do whatever they want. I just wanted my life back. They laughed. They fucking laughed and said I had a ways to go before worrying about college. My bedtime was stupid early... earlier than my sister's and my bedroom was changing too. I had my older toys, bedsheets, pajamas... and no one acted like anything was wrong. All of my accounts were gone... I didn't have email anymore, no laptop, no way to reach out to my friends. So I biked to my closest friends house, Brad. When I got there, his mom acted like she didn't recognize me and when he came to the front door, he didn't either. He treated me like some kind of confused kid and when he got tired of my story, he shut the door in my face. My bike was chained up after that. I was 'bothering the neighbors' and grounded. Monday, third grade. Tuesday, second. Wednesday, first. Thursday, kindergarten. No one would listen to me. No one believed me. On Friday, I went to preschool and sat amongst a range of kids in pull ups, ate finger food, and every time I did anything that wasn't exactly obedient, I was 'throwing a tantrum'. I couldn't say anything that wasn't thrown in my face. Everyone was talking down to me... even my little sister. Everyone acted like I was a small child. Then on Monday... I woke up in a diaper, in a crib. My bedroom was now an oversized baby room. I had footie pajamas on, pacifiers everywhere, baby toys and baby decorations. There were no signs of my older life. I flipped out. I ripped the diaper off and started wrecking everything I could but dad quickly came in and held me down, like he was used to this. Mom came in and fixed everything she could. They were like.. experts at work. He put me up on the changing table and mom put me back in a diaper. I screamed. I cursed. I tried to kick, bite... but dad thwarted every attempt. I said every awful, hateful thing I could think of but none of it was landing for them. They acted like I was just... in a bad mood. They didn't even flinch at the swears, like I wasn't even saying them. I cried. I couldn't fight anymore and I bawled my eyes out, and that's when mom hugged me. She was so gentle, so sweet, and ... I feel asleep in her arms. That night, I fucking begged every god I could think of. I wanted out. I wanted this to stop. Was I going to keep reducing in age until I didn't exist anymore? I prayed, I cried, I begged. I asked over and over again for hours in my crib for it to stop. I said I'd do anything to make this stop. A week went by, and nothing changed. I didn't get treated older but I didn't blink out of existence. My life was now this. Diapers, bottles, naptime... repeat. It's been two years of this. No one understands me, and writing doesn't work. I can see what I wrote and I can see the words, but everyone else seems to see scribbles. I've noticed that most of my words seemed to be ignored except baby-like ones. Mom responds to 'mommy', same with dad, but not 'mom' or 'dad'. Shannon is 'sissy', bottles are 'ba-ba's, if I need a change and mom hasn't noticed, it's 'diapee'. I can't get out of this. Nothing I do works. None of my friends recognize me or acknowledge me. None of my teachers recognize me. Everyone talks to me like I'm some big baby. I'm stuck like this. I sometimes worry I shouldn't have asked for it to stop. I should have asked to have my old life back. I worry I asked for the process to stop too soon, and now I'm stuck. I don't know... I don't know how or why this happened. But if you can read this... like actually read this... Please fucking help me. CASE AMENDMENT 1.0 by Agent Catherine Green 10/18/25 Given the context clues of this note, I was able to track down a Jake Borden in Davenport, Iowa. Ahead of making contact with the family, I confirmed a sister named Shannon and a teenager that graduated in 2018 within reasonable biking distance of the Borden household named Brad. Mother is Courtney Borden, and father is Oscar Borden. I brought both the bottle and message to my interview, though over the phone I was met with a curious tone when asking if I could speak with Jake. When I arrived, it was clear why. As the message suggests, Jake is an adult in physique, but was dressed in an adult onesie and diaper. He was using a pacifier throughout the entire interview, though he did made attempts to remove it and speak throughout the process, it was incoherent baby-like babbling. Courtney and Oscar explained that Jake had a rare, yet unnamed genetic condition that renders his mind stuck as an infant, despite his body growing. They had no pictures or evidence of any schooling, which I can confirm in my research that there are no records of Jake Borden ever attending any schools. To the contrary, they had photos of him throughout the his 25 years of life, always in diapers. More strangely, when I showed the parents the note, they could not read it. They only saw red crayon scribbles. They confirmed they recognized the bottle as one they lost years ago, and apologized profusely for what they perceived as a waste of my time. I had no choice but to leave, though I will admit as I was leaving, I could have sworn I saw a look of despair from Jake. CASE AMENDMENT 1.1 by Agent Catherine Green 0/25/25 I looked into the genetic condition, as I couldn't shake that look on Jake's face when I left. Suspecting his parents were perhaps exhibiting some kind of Munchausen's by Proxy, I dug around to see what other instances I could find, and discovered the previous agent assigned to this case, whose name I can see on the paperwork, has this condition. But there is no record of him working here. I have come to realize this case has been left alone because most people cannot be the note. Like Courtney and Oscar Borden, this message is incoherent crayon scribbles to everyone I show it to. Additionally, I have noticed my colleagues have been treating me differently with each passing day. As if I am less experienced than the day before. Though I know this sounds completely foreign to assert as an experience Special Agent, I believe I may be experiencing a similar daily regression as Jake had. If this is true, I have days before my clearance is reduced and I can no longer access this file, and only a few more days beyond that before I will no longer be working here. Since this all began the moment I read this file and Jake's message, I must concluded I have been afflicted by it... somehow. I am marking this case as TOXIC and SUPERNATURAL, and recommending it to be sealed permanently. If you are reading this, I have likely failed to do so, and if you can read Jake's message... then I wish you good luck.

Here is the first chapter of my brand new story - Elysium! Just a heads up... the first chapter is kinda heavy. But it's needed. There will also be content warnings throughout the story, but I'll make sure to flag them whenever possible. Now... Elysium... This is what happens when I put a lot of myself into a story. Infernum and Arbitrio were the first ones where I put a lot of myself into it... but this one feels a lot more personal than any of my other stories, so I really hope you like it. It's also a lot longer than my usual stories (Probably aiming somewhere around the same length as Little in Love or Love in Dimensions). It's different in a lot of ways, so I hope you enjoy all the differences to my usual stories. I know this genre is a little overdone in our circles... but this is a story I needed to write. You'll see why as it goes on. Enjoy! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! Especially when it comes to new stories! Chapter 1: The Edge Elysium – LittleFallenPrincess ------------------------------- Tw: Depression, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide ------------------------------- Just one more step. Just the tiniest bit of momentum. That was all that was needed. Was I being selfish doing this? Maybe. But it’s not like people will care for more than a week at most. They’ll get over the initial shock and go back to living their normal lives. I was always just a background character to their stories anyway. Always was. Always will be. At least since I lost Mum anyway. They’ll be like ‘Oh, did you hear about Noah? He jumped off the bridge and died. Such a shame. Had so much life to live.’ The same useless shit people say whenever someone dies. Everyone says the same rubbish especially whenever someone kills themself. That ‘they wish they had seen the signs’, ‘wish they had done something’, ‘they were struggling’, ‘at least they’re not suffering anymore’… and it’s all bullshit. They don’t care. They just feel bad that they didn’t give enough of a fuck about someone who was struggling to do anything before it was too late. It takes the tiniest amount of effort to reach out to someone struggling like this, but none of them can be bothered. I bet they’ll say the same things about me. But I think I gave them enough signs. If they can’t read them… that’s their fault. I pretty much plastered them on the walls in bright red paint in all caps… but they were still oblivious to the message. Even if they did read them though… At this point, when I’ve reached rock bottom… what could actually help me at this point? Therapy? Ha… sure… I’ve tried like four different therapists and not one of them could help me. Meds? Doc won’t prescribe anything else because nothing seems to be working. Mental hospital? I’d rather di-... yeah… that’s why I’m here on this ledge… I stared out at the empty road below. Thankfully… no traffic this late at night. No one’s oncoming car to accidentally fall onto. Which is good, because I already feel pretty fucking guilty for ruining the day of whoever finds me… But hey, at that point I won’t have to worry, I won’t be around. Part of me worried that maybe this isn’t high enough. Because I had heard somewhere that people had survived large drops… and if I do take that final step, I want it to be exactly that… final. I don’t want to survive it. That will just lead to… complications. Locked away for a while ‘for my own safety’. The thought of that sends a wave of terror through my whole body. One of my biggest fears is being locked away, unable to escape. It’s why I’ve put this off for so long. I could’ve attempted something before… but I was worried of failing and what would happen if I did so. But now I’ve reached absolute rock bottom and I’m like 99% sure I’m done with this life now. So as my foot hovered over the large drop in front of me, my hands tightly gripping the railing behind me, balancing precariously on the edge of the bridge… I tried to mentally prepare myself. It wasn’t too late to back down though. No one would know… it’s the dead of night. There are no cars, no people… it’s a quiet little English town after all. And I picked this spot in particular so that no one could stop me, that there would be no-one around to stop me. But if I backed out… I could just go home, and no one would have any knowledge of what I planned to do. Which means no-one is doing anything drastic to keep me safe that would end up with me getting much worse. No… I’m ready. I’ve contemplated this for years. Even before I lost my Mum in my teens. Even before I told my Dad about all that stuff… before he kicked me out. I was always depressed. Always wanted to stop existing. It was never a ‘I want to die’, it was more of a ‘I don’t want to exist’, or ‘wish I had never been born at all’. Now it’s different, of course, I mean it’s why I’m balancing here on the edge of a bridge. It wasn’t all bad though. I loved my childhood. Mum made it special. She was my support… my best friend. I loved her so fucking much. Then… she was just gone. Dead. And I was left with Dad. That’s when it all went downhill. Grades slipped, Dad got aggressive. Never violent, but definitely more aggressive. You could tell he didn’t love me the way Mum did. I was just this dumb kid of his, some failure of a son. And he loved to remind me. Then when I told him about all the things going on with my life… he reacted a lot worse than I’d hoped. Kicked me out. Haven’t talked to him in years, but hey, good riddance I say. Mum hated him anyway, it’s why they separated when I was very little. When I had to move in with Dad after Mum died… I think another little piece of my soul died. I’m still surprised I got into university despite all that. Barely scraped through too, earning myself a useless degree that may have actually hindered my job prospects afterwards. So my education was ruined, as was any job I worked after I left Uni, as were all my relationships. Relationships… Ugh, this is the worst timing for me doing this, isn’t it? So close after Abigail broke up with me. She’s… she’s going to blame herself for this. Sure, she broke my heart into a billion tiny pieces, but she didn’t push me over the edge. Even if she did turn all our friends against me. No, I was ready for this for a long time, even back when we were dating. I just didn’t want to hurt her. And now look at me… I liked her. A lot. But I was always holding myself back with her, keeping a large part of myself locked away in fear of how she’d react. Hell, pretty sure that’s part of the reason she broke up with me. She said I was always so ‘mopey’... which she’s not wrong about, but I think she knew I was bottling things up around her, keeping her from seeing what was going on with me. She always had this big plan. She wanted me to propose soon, then we would get married, have kids… typical heteronormative crap you see on TV, with me as the loving husband who comes home after a busy day at the office. White picket fence and all that. But I didn’t want that. Well no, that’s not entirely true, I like the idea of it… but it wasn’t… me. I’m not that kind of guy. I’m not even… No, but anyway, I wasn’t right for her, she deserves her dream. So I’m glad she broke up with me. She deserves better. I just hope she doesn’t blame herself for what I’m about to do. No. I’m ready. One final breath. One final step. One final thought. Better make it a good one. …Nope. Can’t think of anything. Mind is racing too much to pin a thought down. Ah well, go out the same way I came in, eh? And with that last deep breath, I released my tight grip on the guard rail, the blood rushing back into them after they had turned white just moments ago. Momentum took over. It was out of my hands now. A stillness radiated my entire body. I was ready. This was actually happening. This is it. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YE’ DOING?” Something that felt like talons dug themselves into my shoulders, gripping tightly onto my shirt, and yanked me backwards back over the guard rail, tossing me like a ragdoll onto the pavement behind me. I crashed onto the pavement with my arse taking the brunt of the impact. Then my mind and thoughts rushed back, realising I wasn’t dead. “I…” Everything was spinning. I couldn’t focus or think. I had been at peace, ready to end it all, but then something, or someone, came along and literally yanked me from my fate, and now my mind was trying to catch up with my situation. “Hun… were you seriously about to do what I think you were about to do?” came a soothing voice, from who I assumed was the woman who just prevented me from doing something very stupid. At least I assumed it was a woman from what her voice sounded like, with the slightest twinge of a Scottish accent in there. Though it must have been some woman to have been able to throw me back over that guard rail… “I…” Adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I couldn’t figure out whether I wanted to admit the truth, lie, or simply just run away. My vision was blurry and I couldn’t focus. All I could hear was this soothing voice. So I couldn’t even put a face to it. “Sweetie… are you okay?” she said, crouching down in front of me. “I… umm… I’ll get back to you on that one…” I replied, finally managing a full sentence. “Hopefully sooner, rather than later… because you were one second from ending up as paste on the road below!” It was weird hearing such a lovely, almost maternal voice form such crude imagery, but it made me laugh a bit. “What’s so funny?” she asked. “Paste…” “Is your head okay? I didn’t knock it too hard, did I?” “No… I…” My vision started clearing as I looked up at who would normally be called a ‘saviour’ in this situation, though right now… I saw her as more of a hindrance to my overall goal. Freckles. That was the first thing I noticed. Well that and the very red hair. Like… proper ginger. She couldn’t look more stereotypically Scottish if she tried. Her voice definitely matched her appearance, dressed in jeans and a simple amethyst-coloured blouse under her black denim jacket. “Good. Because sometimes I don’t know my own strength. Now… are you going to tell me your name first?” “N… Noah.” “Well N-Noah,” she replied, imitating my stutter, “Care to tell me what you were about to do?” “I think that… is pretty obvious,” I replied, smiling awkwardly. “I guess it is. And why in the world would you do something like that?” “Because…” “‘Because’? Just ‘because’? Oh come on, sweetie… give me a better reason than that!” It was always hard to tell people this. To admit what I want. “I… want… I mean… I don’t want to be here anymore…” “And why is that? Did something happen?” “No. I mean yes. But I… I’ve been wanting this for a long time. Please. Just let me go. You shouldn’t stop me…” That’s when she took my hands into hers. “Sweetie, I’m not going to let you do anything drastic right now. You’re not in the best place, and I’m here to help, okay?” She sounded so… genuinely nice? Like sweetness personified. Even her words in her soft spoken accent made me instantly drop my guard around her. Which somewhat scared me… I nearly always have my guard up. “I… don’t think you can help.” “Try me.” “No. I… I don’t want…” “...To bother me? Shush. Now tell me, precious, what happened to cause such a little cutie like you to take the most drastic action he could possibly take?” I really don’t know what it is about this woman. She… she melts away whatever protection I had guarded myself with. Her voice, her mannerisms, that cute freckled face of hers… “Come on, petal…” “I… don’t even know your name…” “Ceres,” she replied, smiling down at me. “That’s a very… unique name.” “Well I’ll take that as a compliment then, but only because you’re cute,” as she said this, she sat down in front of me, not letting go of my hands as she parked herself on the cold pavement below. “I’m… not…” “Not cute? Lies. Look at you. I bet your girlfriend is all over you.” “D… don’t have one…” “You don’t? Well sorry, sweetie, but I find that hard to believe.” “I’m too depressed for her,” I replied, hanging my head in shame, trying to look anywhere but at her face. “Her? So there was someone? Is this what it’s all about?” “No. Yes. I mean… part of it.” “Then tell me more.” “It’s just… I’ve felt like this for a long time. Since…” “Since what?” “Since I lost my Mum,” I sighed. She went silent for a second. “Ah. Yes. I know how much that hurts. No Dad to help?” “No. He… didn’t like who I was growing up to be. I wasn’t his clone, so he didn’t care. I was always too much like my Mum.” She squeezed my hand, causing me to look up into her beautiful green eyes. “Oh sweetie. I understand your pain. But that doesn’t mean you go taking a step onto the motorway below like that. Are you in therapy? Missed your meds?” “None of it works. Tried it all.” She looked at me, no smile on her face anymore. As if she was trying really hard to read me. She was thinking about something, but I couldn’t even begin to guess what it was that was going on in that head of hers. “Right. Come on. Come with me.” Okay… I wasn’t expecting that. But hey, as long as she doesn’t call the police or for an ambulance… maybe I can get away with just slinking off home once she’s given me a talking to, and no-one in my life will be aware of what nearly went down tonight. “I… okay…” “Good boy. Let’s go sit on a bench and you can talk about what’s bothering you. Spare no details.” ------------------------------- “So depression, dead end job, no girlfriend, bad degree, shit dad, lost your Mum, facing homelessness, and nothing the doctors are trying is working? Is that everything?” “That… is pretty much it,” I replied, shrugging at her, not knowing what else to say. Ceres had found a nice little bench in the nearby park. It was just as dead as the bridge was, probably due to it being like… 3am. She had sat me down, wrapped her jacket around me (as I had been stupid enough to come out wearing just my t-shirt and jeans. Sure, it’s only the start of September, but it’s still pretty bloody cold at 3am in the UK, no matter what time of year it is), and barely released my hands from hers the entire time. I hesitated at first. I didn’t want to go and bother this complete stranger with all my issues, even if she had just technically saved my life. Despite wishing she hadn’t done so. But something about this woman, who looked not much older than 30, made me feel so… safe… that I eventually just blurted out everything, just one big stream of consciousness. I was worried maybe I had overwhelmed her, but clearly with her little summary… she had listened to everything. Not that I told her everything. There’s some stuff that I’m not even able to talk to myself about, let alone a cute stranger who just prevented me from ‘becoming paste on the road’. “Right. Well whilst I can see why you’d want to do what you were about to do… I still think you’re an idiot for attempting it.” “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be all nice and reassuring? ‘Idiot’ isn’t very nice, is it?” I asked, smiling cheekily at her, the first smile I had managed since she saved me. “Excuse me…” she said, trying her best to hold in her laugh, the one you could clearly see bubbling at the surface. “I’m very good at what I do. Not my fault some cute idiot decided to do something stupid and change my plans…” That’s when a wave of guilt hit me. The one I had hoped to have missed… after I had done the deed. “I… oh… sorry…” I replied, hanging my head in shame. “Oh shush. I was only on my way home from work.” “Still… sorry. You should be home right now.” “No, Noah… none of that bullshit with me, okay? You were in a low place, I understand that. Hell, I understand getting to the point where you’re teetering over the edge… but I will not have you putting yourself down just for slightly inconveniencing me. I’m just happy I got to stop you before you became vulture-chow.” “We don’t get vultures in England…” “And apparently you also don’t get jokes…” she said, nudging me playfully. “Sorry…” “What did I just tell you?” “S-... ah… yeah… Fine. No more apologies. For now,” I replied, pouting slightly at this cute girl. “Good boy.” Shivers ran through my body when she said those two words. And for a moment there… I swear she could tell. But it wasn’t good shivers. It wasn’t bad. It was like… a mix of both? “Now, sweetie. I’m a bit worried about leaving you alone right now. Have you got anyone you can call?” “No,” I snapped back at her, maybe a little too quickly. “No one?” “I… no. Sorry. I’ll be fine, you can just let me go home.” “Via the motorway?” she replied, pointing in the direction of where I had nearly jumped. “Oh I don’t think so, sweetie.” “I’ll be fine…” I groaned. “Look, I’ll give you my number. If you need someone to talk to, or have a drink or something, you just call me, okay? You’re not a bother. And I want you to be okay. You’re a cute guy.” I grumbled a bit, before she finally released her hands, reaching into her shoulder bag with both of them, before pulling her phone out with one of them. “Right, come here. I’m giving you the biggest hug ever. That way you’ll want another one, and be a lot less likely to go stepping off bridges…” Hey, I wasn’t going to argue with this woman. First off, she’s cute. Secondly… she gives off this vibe of ‘do as I say, or you’ll regret it’. Thirdly… I was still calming down after everything, so if I was going to try this again… I’d need a few days, I think, to get my head back to normal. And fourthly… and most importantly… she hadn’t called anyone. She hadn’t called the police. Hadn’t called to get me locked away for my own safety. She was just… letting me go. This was the best thing that could have happened once she saved me, and I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As I stood up, she held out her arms, creating an opening for me to hug her. Slowly shuffling forward, I got closer and closer until she took the lead and stepped forward, wrapping her rather strong arms around me, squeezing me tightly. I wrapped mine around her waist and embraced the hug. With my head pressed against her chest like this, this hug felt like the best thing in the world right now. The best thing I had experienced in years. I felt all the sadness I tried bottling up, all the anger, all the pain, everything… come rushing forward, flooding my body with emotion. I began to cry into her shoulder. “There there, Noah, let it all out. You’ve had a stressful life from the sounds of it. Just let it all out. Forget about it. You don’t have to be big and strong with me.” Her words, along with the soft, comforting accent of hers… made me feel smaller than ever. Even as she stroked my blonde hair, which must have come untied from the ponytail earlier, I felt smaller than ever, despite her only being a couple of inches taller than me. And I’m 5’9! Yet I felt two feet tall compared to this woman somehow. “I… sorry I’m such a mess. You… you shouldn’t have to comfort me like this.” She squeezed me tighter, then moved her mouth closer to my ear. “Sweetie, I am so glad I ran into you tonight. I think fate brought us together. Because I think I can help you.” A small little pinch. In my upper arm. That’s all that was felt before the world… and my body… got really heavy. Before the world started spinning. Before everything felt… almost good for once. And then… the lights went out. ====================================================== Sorry for the really heavy start to this story. I promise you it gets easier. It's a very emotional story, and may have some darker moments like this. But I promise you, it's worth it. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, despite this! Like I said... I put a lot more of myself into this story... Don't forget I'm on Subscribestar! Subscribers get 2 weeks early access to chapters, and exclusive short stories (Nessa's Tale is currently the only available one). The next four chapters of my new story posted on my Subscribestar! ======================================================== I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! 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Here we go. It's been a long, long, long time since I started this. I've restarted it in fits and starts. I'm nearing the end and I'll be releasing chapters slowly over the next several months. I'm writing ahead of what I'm putting out. I'd thought I might wait until I'm actually done. But I'm really close, so here we go. Here are the first 18 chapters which have already been published, but are no longer on this board. Chapter 1 This was not the way Thomas Welton wanted to begin his first day at his new school. This was not the way any 13 year-old should begin any day. Tom took every insult to his maturity seriously and this one was particularly grievous. He had grown tired of everyone assuming he was a little kid, a mere elementary schooler. He was officially a teenager and even if he was a little shorter than average, adults should know better than to simply presume he wanted a kid's menu or whatever it was they did to overlook his status as a teen. These are, at any rate, the things he told himself. Though he was barely aware of it he envied younger kids, the way they didn't have to struggle to prove that they were big and mature and completely independent. Somewhere in the back of his mind the thought lingered that he had wasted his opportunity to simply be a carefree kid on his constant quest to prove himself grown-up. But no matter how aware he was of those feelings he wasn't about to let on as his mother drove him to his first day of morning daycare. Her new job required her to arrive early, too early to take Tom to school. So she had found a nearby daycare that offered a bus service to the local schools. Tom thought he could ride his bike to school but was over ruled by his mother who insisted it was much too far for that. So he sat staring glumly out the window taking some solace in the promise that this particular center had an area for Jr High students in his position so he wouldn't have to spend all morning hanging out with little kids and being treated like a little kid. He was momentarily pulled out of his brooding funk as he felt the car come to stop. This was all quite worse than than he thought. Crude art projects decorated the windows cheerfully colored playground equipment sat waiting to be used. To Tom every detail screamed that this was a place for immature little brats, something that he was not, something he never was. He stepped out of the car and glared at this rugrat jail only to be interrupted by his mother giving him a quick pat on the head before starting her way to the door. Tom gave gave a resigned sigh and followed her in. Inside the daycare center was a desk marked by a single name plate decorated with teddy bear stickers and bearing the name “Sarah.” And behind the desk the Sarah identified by the name tag sat beaming at the new mother and student who had just walked through her door. Her slightly plump round face and easy smile made her a natural for the part of a daycare teacher, To most of the parents here she was the face of the daycare and her obvious pride and experience in her work reassured them all that this was a safe and comfortable place for their little ones. “This must be my new student,” she said cheerfully “Tommy isn't it?” “Tom” he corrected her tersely. Her eyes twinkled at his attempted protest “I'm sorry Tom, I didn't know I was getting such a grown up boy.” She turned to his mother and gave her a knowing smile before asking “And what school will we be sending Tom to this morning?” “Stone Ridge Junior High” Tom answered with a a touch of pride before his mother could even speak. “Well” Sarah chuckled “I guess we really do have quite the grown up here. Before you know it he'll be working here.” Tom glowered silently as the adults went about their final arrangements “I'm sorry” Karen Welton said “he thinks he's too old for daycare so he's a little grumpy this morning.” “Well I'm sure we'll find a way to make him fit right in.” As Sarah smiled her reassurances at him Tom couldn't help but notice the odd twinkle in her eye. It took him aback momentarily and he couldn't help but think that however sweet this woman might be she meant everything she said, perhaps in ways he could never quite understand. With her business concluded Karen turned to her son and kissed him on the forehead “Have a good day at school sweety. I'll pick you up right at three, maybe we can rent a movie or something.” Tom mumbled a good-bye and watched her walk through the door, leaving him in the care of Kiddie Town Daycare. Sarah called over one of the teachers and introduced her to Tom. “Linda” she said calling over a younger blond haired woman and handing her a packet of papers “this is our new boy, would you mind showing him around.” Tom this is Linda she'll show you where to put your things and get you settled in.” “Come on Tommy” Linda smiled “I'm sure you'll have lots of fun here.” Tom crossed his arms and issued his correction for the second time today “I only like to be called Tom.” “I'll be sure to remember that” Linda said paying little attention to her new charge's indignation “These are the cubbies we part all our things in, well make sure to get your name on yours.” She explained using the voice she obviously reserved for small children as took his backpack and coat and tucked them neatly into his cubby. “And over here is the play area we've got toys and games on that shelf over there...” “I really just need to see the area for kids who are going to the junior high. I'm just here so I can get on the bus, I don't want to play with toys or be babysat.” “I'm sorry hon but we don't have any other kids going to your school today so we're just putting everybody in this room for now. But I'm sure you'll be able to have lots of fun in here too.” Linda said not breaking her condescending manner at all. She gave the papers Sarah had handed her a second look and shrugged before leaving Tom with some more reassurances. Tom stomped off and found a chair where we could sit and wait. “What is wrong with everybody in this town?” He thought to himself as he tried to ignore the throng of kids playing around him. It wasn't long before one of them came up to him with a big red ball in his hand “Hi, I'm Johnny and I'm in third grade, do you wanna play something.” Tom didn't even look before spitting out “Look, I'm not a little kid like you guys and I don't want to play, just leave me alone.” “Well sorry,” Johnny rolled his eyes “I was trying to be nice.” Tom returned to glaring into space as Johnny went off to play. He sat and stewed until it was finally time to board the bus. Outside he found several different buses. He stopped and look around for a second until on the the drivers leaned out the window with a clip board and called “Uh Tommy Welton, this is your bus.” Tom gritted his teeth at being called that name again but boarded the bus relieved to be done with daycare for the day. Tom looked out the window and thought about how great it would be to finally establish his new teenage life in his new town. At least he'd have something to balance out his dreadful mornings. He was bought back to reality by the driver calling out “Alright Tommy, this is where you'll be getting off.” “Tom.” he corrected as he walked hurriedly off the bus. He stepped of the bus and looked around, something obviously wasn't right. Behind him he heard the bus drive off as he tried to figure out what had happened. Finally he spotted the sign on the lawn in front of the office “Sunny Brook Elementary School.” “Shit these idiots brought me to the wrong school.” Tom muttered to himself. He cursed his luck and walked towards the office determined to clear up this grievous mistake. Little did he know the forces he was up against. Chapter 2 Tom walked into the office of Sunny Brook Elementary confident that he'd clear everything up and be on his way to Stone Ridge Junior High where he belonged. He went right up to the front desk and wasted no time getting to business “The bus dropped me off at the wrong place, I need to call somebody so I can get to the right school.” The secretary barely took her attention away from the parent she was speaking with “I'm talking with a grown-up dear, maybe you can review the rules while you wait for us to finish.” She directed his attention to a colorful poster on the back wall and went back to her business. Tom looked at the poster and gave a disgusted eye roll. It was a list of simple rules aimed at elementary school aged kids. “We let everybody have their turn” it read “We do not interrupt. We always speak politely and say 'Please' and 'Thank you'.” Tom crossed his arms and waited impatiently this was not a place he wanted to stay any longer than necessary. Finally the interminable conversation ended and Tom strided up to the desk and launched straight into his story. The secretary put her hand to her chin and pondered the situation for a moment. “There's never been a mistake like this before, this is a very well run district. What's your name hon?” “Tom Welton.” he replied finally feeling like he was getting somewhere. “Oh yes, I have a Tommy Welton listed as starting in Mrs. Sanborn's fifth grade class.” She said as though the answer to everything. “I'm not in the fifth grade and I like to be called Tom. Somebody made some sort of mistake.” “Is you mom's name Karen?” “Yes.” Tom replied impatiently. “And are you going to Kiddie Town Daycare?” “Yes,” Tom groaned “But only because I've got to take the bus.” “Well that matches what this form says, I even have your mom's signature with fifth grade checked off.” She said as though she was actually trying to talk him into this. “She probably just didn't notice.” Tom said exasperated. “Well I've never seen a error on one of these forms before. Like I said things are very well run here, we don't make mistakes like this. She caught attention of a tall kindly looking man walking through the office and pointed out Tom to him. “This child says he's supposed to go to Stone Ridge but the bus dropped him off here and he's listed as a student here.” The man pondered the situation for a second “Let's go look this up on the computer,” he turned to Tom and said “We'll be back in a minute son.” And the two went behind a door labeled “Mr. Lessen, Principal.” From behind the door Tom could bits of their conversation “He doesn't look that old to me either, but do you think a kid would really tell a lie like that.” The scowl on his face deepened. Adults were always saying things like that. It was stupid, it was perfectly obvious he was a teenager. Maybe if his mother would let him buy the clothes he wanted things like this wouldn't happen. As he sat there he made up his mind that after today he'd insist on being treated as grown-up as he really was. After a few minutes Tom was called into the office. He breathed a sigh of relief fully expecting that his true status had been verified and he would be back on his way to the school where he belonged. Mr. Lessen invited Tom to sit and explained the situation to him in a well practiced 'talking to a child' tone, “Well Tommy it looks like everything checks out you're officially a fifth grader. Are you sure you weren't just trying to get out of school today?” “Yes I'm sure,” Tom said too exasperated to correct the principal on his name “I was done with the fifth grade two years ago. Call my mom and ask.” “I do intend to speak to your mother, but for now I want to report to your classroom.” Tom shuffled along behind the secretary angrily wondering what sort of grown-up activities the teenagers at Stone Ridge were up to and not paying the slightest attention to her tour of the playground Finally they arrived at the door of Mrs. Sanborn's class. “This is your classroom, now remember that you can always come to the office if you get sick or skin your knee or have an accident or if you just need to call your mom.” Tom groaned inwardly “Accident? Did this lady seriously think there was a chance he'd wet his pants?” “Oh, and I'll make sure we get your uniform ready. You can stay dressed like that today but you'll have to wear from tomorrow on. Have fun” “Thank God, I'll be out of here after they talk to mom.” Tom thought Tom walked inside the classroom and thought he'd gag on the cutesy decorations on the wall. The entire classroom was adorned with cartoon animals an various posters bore reminders of the class rules. Tom just reminded himself that this be for today only and walked up to the desk to introduce himself. “My name is Tom and I...” “Oh Tommy, you must be the new boy. I hear you think you're supposed to be going to Stone Ridge.” “I am. And I only like to be called Tom.” “Well I'm sure everything well get straightened out. We've already got a desk ready for you right over there.” Mrs. Sanborn pointed a desk with a name plate that read “Tommy” in the front row. “I guess we'll have to change the name tag, but that should be good enough for now. All your books are already under your desk.” Tom sat down bitterly in his desk as Mrs. Sanborn called the class to order. “Class he have a new student today can you all say 'hi' to Tom.” Tom rolled his eyes as the assembled brats said “Hi Tom” in a juvenile sing-song unison. “Tom why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?” Mrs. Sanborn invited. “First of all no matter what this thing on my desk says my name is Tom not Tommy. And I'm only here for today because somebody messed up, I'm supposed to be in junior high.” Tom explained in a loud defiant voice with his arms crossed tight. Tom did his best to ignore the doubting giggles and snickers as Mrs. Sanborn began class for the day. “Now everybody get out your science books and turn to page 75. Tom, since this is your first day I'll give you first try at this question. What are the three basic types of wave function?” Tom blinked. “Wave function?” “Now come on try to remember” Mrs. Sanborn coaxed as all the other students shot their hands into there air eager to answer. Tom sat and tried to remember ever hearing of such a thing all around him the class grew more and more eager to answer, each straining to lift their hand higher than the others. “I don't know” Tom finally admitted. Tom's admission elicited one last round of excited hand waving and calls of “Pick me, pick me.” Mrs. Sanborn looked over the class for a moment “Alright Jessica, can you tell us what the basic types of wave function are. “A complex vector with finitely many components, a complex vector with infinitely many components, and a complex vector with one or more real variables.” Jessica said smiling proudly. “Very good Jessica. Now if you remember yesterday we were discussing one dimensional momentum space...” Tom stared slack jawed at all around him. Everybody in this room, he was convinced, was completely insane. He'd never heard any of this before. Something was very wrong with this town. He hoped that they wouldn't be like this over at the junior high. He sat for the rest of time in complete incomprehension until his teacher announced that it was time for recess. He wondered out to the playground still in shock from the bizarre scene he'd just witnessed. He looked around and realized that everything in this place was for little kids. With nothing else to do he sat on a swing and stared despondently at the ground. As he sat a group of boys walked past him. One of them looked at him and asked 'What's the matter Tommy.” “My name's Tom” he said with a little less conviction than before “and I'm fine, I just want to go the right school.” “You don't even know basic quantum mechanics ” scoffed the largest boy of the group “you should probably be in preschool or something.” With that Tom stood up to face him before noticing he was actually quite a bit bigger. “Come on Todd, leave him alone it's just his first day at school” said one of the group. “Fine” said Todd “I guess we'll just let the pouty baby pout on the swings.” and with that they left. Tom sat back down trying to look as dignified as he possibly could after a fifth grader had just stood up for him. All he wanted at this point was to get through this day with as little notice as possible. The rest of the day in class went much the same as the first. Tom had no idea what was going on, he just knew he wanted out of this place. Finally the last bell rang and he made a bee line for the office where he hoped he'd find that everything had been cleared up. inside he found his mother speaking with the principal. “Hi sweety,” she greeted him “I have good news, Stone Ridge is going to let you transfer and all you have to do is pass one little test. Inside Tom told himself that what happened today was a fluke, he could pass any test they gave him with flying colors. Mr. Lessen gave him his test packet and a pencil and let Tom take the test in the privacy of his office. Tom opened the booklet and his heart sank. If anything this test was crazier than the stuff he'd heard in class today. All of it was completely alien to him. He did his best to struggle through, but all he could do was guess. Once again Tom found himself staring glumly out the the window of his mother's car. Only this time he was officially a fifth grader again. In the back seat sat his brand new school uniform, a simple light blue collared shirt with the school logo emblazoned on the front, a figure of child holding a teddy bear in one hand an adult's hand in the other. Along with the shirt was a pair of slacks and pair of shorts. Tom took some solace in the fact that he didn't have to wear the even more babyish uniform of the lower grades. Still he knew everywhere he went he would be unmistakably identified as the grade school student he now was. And he was beginning to wonder if this really wasn't the place he belonged after all. Chapter 3 Tom strode though the entrance of Stone Ridge Junior High. “Hey Tom” called out one of his friends. Tom joined up with his friends who were already hanging out in the hall discussing the usual teenage stuff. There was some talk of how great it would be once they got their learner's permits which none of them were too far away from getting. Somewhere in the distance there was gentle music. It played so softly Tom didn't so much hear it as sense it. Slowly it grew louder and more distinct, it was now clearly a nursery rhyme. Tom glanced around but nobody else seemed to notice. Eventually it grew to drown out the conversation. Tom stood up and covered his ears, nobody else reacted at all. Tom woke to the electronic screeching of his alarm clock. He reached over and smacked it back into silence, in the quite gray light of morning reality flooded back to him. His new school uniform freshly laundered and folded was already sitting on the chair next to him. He reluctantly went about the business of getting ready for his 2nd day of the fifth grade. He sloped down the stairs and into the kitchen trying his best to ignore his mother's “isn't he cute” looks as he sat down to breakfast “Aww honey, it's not that bad is it?” she finally spoke up. “I just want to go where I'm supposed to go instead of spending all day with a bunch of little kids.” Tom groused. Karen ran her fingers gently through her son's hair “I know you won't like this but you might not be quite as grown-up as you think.” Tom scowled, feeling angry at his mother for making such a comment, but mostly because he was afraid she was right. Somewhere inside him he felt a glimmer of hope that somebody might really know the young adult he was always trying to look like, but he quickly pushed it back down and continued eating his breakfast. Karen rubbed his back “I know it's no fun right now honey, but I think this might be for the best” she said before leaving the room to make a phone call. At Kiddie Town Karen explained the situation to Sarah who had been sure to inform Tom of how adorable he looked in his new uniform. Karen gave her son a good-bye kiss on his forehead and left him again care of Sarah and her staff. A she drove away she wondered if she would ever reach the little boy she knew was under her son's defiant exterior. Tom found his seat from the day before still unhappy to be stuck in daycare but feeling somewhat less conspicuously mature now that he dressed like most of the other children. After a few minutes he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Hey, I thought you said you a big kid.” Tom turned around and saw Johnny from the day before. “I am” John explained “In fact I'm a teenager.” “But you're wearing a Sunny Brook uniform just like me, even though mine is sort of different cause I'm in the third grade.” “Somebody made a mistake I'm supposed to go to a different school.” Tom shot back defensively. “It's OK if you're not a big kid, you can still play with us over there” Johnny said pointing out some of his friends on the other side of the room.” “I don't want to play. Why don't you get wet you diapers with your friends?” Tom snorted derisively. “Fine” Johnny said rolling his eyes. Tom turned back around and blinked. He realized how immature he looked in contrast to the third grader who wanted nothing more to play with him. He shook his head and dismissed it all as a reaction to the stress he was under. At school Tom shuffled back into his classroom and found his desk still labeled “Tommy.” Mrs. Sanborn noticed him staring at it. “I'm sorry I forgot to change that, do you really mind being called 'Tommy' so much?” She asked him. Tom to his surprise found himself answering “no.” It was a battle he was weary of fighting. Mrs. Sanborn smiled warmly “Well Tommy, we're certainly glad to have you stay with us.” As kids filtered into the classroom nobody seemed very surprised to see Tom back in class again. It seemed that the entire world had quite easily accepted him as fifth grader. Class began and Tom could see that this day was going to be like the last. He struggled to gain even the faintest grasp of the material. How could these mere children be so far beyond him? Finally recess gave him a brief reprieve from his classroom struggles. Today the playground seemed like entirely different place. Yesterday he had assumed he just a visitor. But today this was his playground, he was truly under the watchful eye of the adults who kept the students safe and behaved. He sat down again in a swing and watched the goings on. After a few minutes he found himself absentmindedly swinging back and forth a bit. He caught himself and composed himself back into the teenager he felt himself to be making a mental note to only do what little kid stuff was necessary to make it through this situation. The bell signaling the end of recess rang and Tom lined up obediently joined the rest of his class in a neat line as they waited for their teacher to bring them back into class. Mrs. Sanborn took a quick head count of her charges and led them back into class. On the way in Tom became a aware of an urge from his bladder. Not wishing to make the fuss of asking his fifth grade teacher for permission to go he decided to hold it until lunch. But as class progressed the need to empty his bladder became increasingly dire. Finally he was forced to raise his hand. “Yes Tommy?” Mrs. Sanborn acknowledged. “I need to use the restroom.” “Now Tommy you should know by now that your expected to take of that during recess. We only have 15 minutes until lunch and I think you need that time to catch up on your bounded harmonics.” For the next 15 minutes Tom fought his bladder's desperate need for release. When his class finally let out for lunch he made a mad dash for the restroom. There he discovered something very odd. He hadn't noticed before but the button on his pants had a weird sort of latch that had to be worked to open the fly. He sat and stared at it for a moment unable to quite figure out how to undo it. Around him his fellow students ran in and out of the bathroom seeming to have no difficulty at all with this complication. As he struggled he felt his bladder release. A warm wet feeling spread through his pants as he soaked himself helplessly. Along with a sense of utter embarrassment also came a wave of relief and a sense of dread as he realized what he'd have to do. He came out of the bathroom trying to pull his shirt down in a futile attempt to hide his accident. He found his teacher and fighting back tears tried to explain himself. She noticed his wet pants before he could even begin his explanation. “Oh Tommy, couldn't quite hold it dear?” Tom could only shake his head as he followed his teacher to the office. Once there he just looked at the ground while he was led in to see the school nurse. The nurse saw what he was there for immediately “Aww It's OK honey, we'll get you into some dry clothes” she said. “You can come back class when your done here Tommy” Mrs. Sanborn said as she left him in the nurses office. Tom turned to the nurse desperate to explain himself “It's just because of these pants, they've got some weird thing on the button and I couldn't get them off.” he pleaded. He was slightly shocked when she didn't waste a moment reaching over and undoing his button. “You're clothes are just fine. You don't need to make silly excuses hon, little boys have accidents it's nothing to be embarrassed about.” “I'm not a little boy” Tom almost whimpered. “Uh huh” she replied as she helped him out of his wet clothes. Tom blushed deeply as he tried to cover himself. She dumped the soaked things into a plastic bag and grabbed a few things from the closet. “Here you go hon, you can wear these.” Tom sighed slightly as he saw the cartoon print underwear he'd just been handed. He knew he had no choice in the matter so he pulled them on along with a pair of dry pants, this time he noticed these had the same sort of fly. “Thank you” he muttered feeling embarrassed at having been so dependent on her. “Anytime hon.” She said patting his head. “Now go get back to class, I'll call your mom so she'll know to pick up your wet things.” Tom nodded and headed back to class suddenly feeling much more like a real elementary schooler. Chapter 4 After returning from the school nurse Tom spent the rest of the day half eager and half dreading the the end of school. On one hand he'd be able to get away from this bizarre place, but on the other he'd have to explain to his mom why he'd wet his pants. Class ended promptly at 3 and he trudged his way to the parking lot and saw his mother was already there. Drawing a deep breath he climbed into the passenger prepared to defend himself. “Hey hon, have a rough day at school?” His mother inquired sympathetically. “Yeah sort of. But it's not my fault...” “I know it's not your fault, lots of kids have accidents. You just didn't know they don't give bathroom passes here.” Tom was amazed at the way his mother was taking this. It was as though he really was a child who couldn't be fully expected to handle his toileting. He wasn't sure whether he should accept the sympathy or insist on being treated like someone his own age. “I guess you're kind of right.” Tom shrugged feeling relieved to get the issue behind him. All he had to do was figure out how to work that odd little latch. For now he could live with the little kid treatment, and in a strange town where he had learn so many new things he was finding it to be something of a saving grace. Karen smiled at her son and ruffled his hair “That's my boy.” At home Tom flopped down in front of the TV happy to have another day behind him. He knew the cable had been installed that day and was eager to watch MTV and forget about how he spent the day at elementary school. He cycled through the channels a few times but couldn't find anything that looked anything like MTV. “Mom?” he called “Do you know what channel MTV is on?” “The cable company here doesn't have it. Why don't find something else to watch.” Tom sighed and figured he could easily find something else. But he found nothing at all that interested him. As far as he could tell almost all of them were for old people or least people who understood that boring financial talk, a few had weird movies he just didn't understand. Finally he settled on the one thing he could understand, cartoons. He hadn't seen this one before, and he had to admit it he was enjoying it. He'd known kids back at home who still watched cartoons, some were even popular. But he always thought it was all to babyish for him. But here he was and after a long day it was relaxing to just sit and enjoy something. Before he long he once again felt his bladder begin to call for emptying. He waited for a commercial and went into the bathroom determined to figure out that latch that had defeated him earlier. He'd seen the nurse open it so he thought he knew what to do but he still struggled with it. From Tom's perspective it was rather complicated and required quite a bit of finesse. He fought for several minutes as the urge grew. Finally he decided he'd need help. “Uh... mom. I sort of need some help. Please.” He called from the door of the bathroom. “Yes hon?” She said walking up to the door and looking at him curiously. “It's just this button, it's weird. I don't really know how to open it.” Tom blushed as asked like a toddler for help going to the bathroom. Without another word she reached down and effortlessly undid the button. “There you go, is this why you had that accident today?” Tom just nodded blushing a bit more. “Well that's OK, you'll get the hang of it, all the other children do.” Tom finished his business and went back to watching cartoons. He'd already been watching for some time and was becoming hooked. The evening wore on and eventually his mother came in to announce that it was time to get ready for bed. “Mom, it's only 9 O'clock. I never go to bed this early.” He protested. “You've been staying up far too late, and your teacher say you have a lot of catching up to do so you'll need your rest.” Tom sulked but decided not to argue that he was too old for this with the woman who had laundered his wet pants. He went up stairs to his room and began to undress. His mother wasn't too far behind. “Still need help with those pants.” Tom again acquiesced to his mother helping him with his clothes. He unbuttoned his pants and helped him out of them thinking to herself about how cute he looked in the cartoon print underwear. “You need any more help hon?” she asked. “No I can do the rest.” Tom said feeling a bit embarrassed. “Alright, I put some pjs on your dresser if you want to wear them, it's going to get pretty chilly tonight. Good night sweety.” “Good night, mom.” Tom said as she left the room. He'd given up wearing pajamas some time ago and preferred to sleep in his underwear. Not the underwear like he was currently wearing, he changed out of that, but pajamas were one of the many things he'd felt he'd outgrown. He turned out the light and climbed into bed. After a a few minutes of tossing and turning he realized that it wasn't just chilly it was freezing. No matter how he piled the covers he was still cold. He got out of bid and slipped on the pajamas his mother had left for him. Luckily they didn't have any cartoon characters on them or anything like that. But they were warm and cozy. Tom climbed back into bed as comfy as he could be and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Chapter 5 Tom made his way through another morning at Kiddie Town and sat though another bewildering day of class. He couldn't understand how these little kids could know so much more than him, how they could be so much more capable than him in so many ways. Unable to follow the day's lessons his mind kept wandering back to the day before and how he'd wet his pants just because he wasn't able to do something everybody else found so simple. These thoughts became more intense when he once again began to feel the need to go the restroom. The last thing he wanted to do was have an accident for the second day in a row so he sat and thought about how he'd finally undo that stupid latch. At last it was time for recess and he bolted for the boy's room. He examined it for a minute. He'd seen it worked several times now and had a pretty good idea of how to do it. He made several attempts making some progress, but the mechanism was ultimately too delicate for him. He sighed deeply and walked out to the playground. He found his teacher and looking at his shoes stammered “I think I sort of need some help.” “What do you need Tommy?” Mrs. Sanborn asked. “I just need some help undoing this fly.” Tommy said barely above a whisper. She bent down close so she could hear him “What was that dear?” Tommy again whispered into her ear and she briefly gave him a surprised look. “OK, let's get that taken of.” She followed his into the restroom and easily helped him with his predicament. All the while she was careful not to hurt his feeling but Tom could tell from the way she looked at him that she was beginning to think he didn't even belong in her class. He finished up hoping that nobody had witnessed anything. At the end of class that day Tom started for the door when he heard Mrs. Sanborn call his name. He turned back around and went up to her desk. “Tommy, I have a note here for your mother. Could you get her to sign it and bring it back tomorrow?” Tom took the envelope and nodded. He had some idea of what was in it, but he knew he had little choice but to give it to his mom. Not wanting to deal with it right after school he shoved it deep into his backpack and went out to her car. “Hey sweety, did you have a better day today?” She greeted him. “Yeah” Tom said shrugging his shoulders. “I'm have to head by the mall for a bit, wanna come with me?” “Sure” Tom said. Tom listened to the radio and watched the scenery go by and began to forget about having to ask his teacher for help going to the bathroom. The car pulled into the mall parking lot and Tom gawked at how huge it was. He was sure there'd be plenty of things for him to do that would let him forget about being an elementary schooler for a while. Inside the mall was incredibly crowded. Tom was surprised that such a small town could produce so many people but was to interested in finding an arcade to care very much. “Hey mom can I go look around, I'll meet you back here in an hour.” His mom gave him a skeptical look and for a moment he thought she'd say no “Alright, but be back in half an hour instead” she said before handing him some money to play around with. Tom was thrilled, finally he was getting a taste of teenage freedom. He got a large soda at the food court and began to look around. He spotted an arcade and walked confidently over to it. But when he got inside he paused. He got out a dollar bill and got some tokens from the machine and began to look around for something to play. But as he explored he noticed that the other teenagers were looking at him like he was an invader. He realized that because of his uniform everybody there assumed he was just a little kid who'd probably throw a damper on the fun they were having. It probably didn't help that he was so much smaller than any of them. He was always a bit shorter then average, but these kids simply towered over him. He did his best to ignore them and just enjoy his time away from adult supervision. He found one of his favorite games from back home and popped in a token. For the first few seconds it was the same game he was used to. But this version was harder somehow. He'd always been able to play for what seemed forever on one quarter, but this time he was dead in under a minute. He stared at the death screen in shock. From somewhere off to the side a kid not much older than himself chuckled “Don't worry kid I wasn't very good at that when I was your age either, you'll get better.” Tom was about to inform him that he was not some little brat when he heard the voice of the attendant behind him “Excuse me son, is your mom here?” Tom turned around to face him bewildered that he'd be asking such a question “No, she's out shopping. I don't need her to be with me every second.” He answered. “Well you need her here, we don't allow anyone under 12 without a parent.” “But I...” Tom thought for a second and decided that admitting to being a teenager in elementary school wasn't what he wanted to do and that nobody would believe him anyway. He sulked out of the arcade and went to wait for his mom. As he waited he began to feel the effects of the large soda. He decided to wait until he got home where he could at least try to work that cursed latch in private, or worse yet ask for help again. He was about to give in and go search for a restroom when his mom appeared. “Hi hon, have fun?” “Yeah I guess” Tom said before hesitating for a moment “I really need to go to the bathroom and I think...” “Still need some help with that?” Tom nodded as his face turned red. “Well come on.” His mother said before leading him off in the direction of the bathroom. The crowd had grown quite thick and Tom struggled to keep up with his mother. He felt more like a little kid than ever before trying so desperately to stay with his mom but he didn't know what else to do. Eventually the task became so difficult that she reached out her hand for Tom to take. Knowing he had little choice Tom took her hand. He took some small solace in the fact that none of his friends from back home were here to see him being led by the hand so his mom could help him go to the bathroom. They turned a corner onto the main concourse of the mall where things were even more crowded. Tom couldn't even see where he was going, he was now simply being dragged through the throng. He felt a bolt of panic as his mother's hand slipped out of his. He tried to go around to get back to where he thought she was but he just got pushed back further and further. His need to go to the bathroom was now beyond desperate and there was little he could do to even find his way let alone undo his pants by himself. Unable to hold it any longer Tom felt his bladder release uncontrollably and the warm wetness spread through his crotch and down his leg. Looking down at his soaked pants Tom began to feel like nothing more than a lost little boy. Tears flooded into his eyes and finally some people in the crowd took notice. “Hey are you lost” a voice from behind him asked. Tom turned around to find a girl who was maybe somewhere toward the end of her high school years leaning down at looking at him sympathetically. Tom could only sniffle and nod. “Well let's get you somewhere where your mom kind find you and get you into some dry pants” his new caretaker said as she took his hand. Still lightly sobbing Tom didn't know what else to do but comply. He was led over to a nearby information booth where the girl explained she'd found a lost child. After getting his name and description the attendant at the booth made an announcement and within a few minutes Tom's mother appeared. “Oh baby, I'm sorry I let go of your hand. I'll make sure that never happens again” she exclaimed as she bent down to give him a hug. Forgetting himself for a moment Tom returned the hug and rested his head on her shoulder taking comfort in his mother's arms. “And don't worry about hose pants. It's not your fault. Well get you into something dry at home.” She thanked Tom's teenage rescuer for finding her boy and taking his hand in a firm grip led him back out to the car. At home she took him upstairs and helped him out of his wet things. “I want you to know that I'm not angry at you in any way. But you are going have to figure out how to undo your pants on your own. I just bought you a new bunch of pants and everything they sell here has the same thing.” Tom nodded as he got himself into the dry clothes his mother had laid out. “Now go ahead and watch your cartoons. I'll get all this in the wash for you.” Tom couldn't believe how understanding his mother was. He couldn't believe how much he was beginning to fit the role of little boy that had been thrust on him. But he didn't want to think about any of that now, he just wanted to watch some cartoons and forget about the day. Upstairs his mother couldn't help but notice an envelope sticking out of his backpack. Chapter 6 As Tom sat down to dinner with his mother he could easily see she wanted to talk about something. “I saw that note from your teacher” she said casually. Tom's stomach turned. He'd completely forgotten about it. “What did it say” he stammered trying to act as unconcerned as possible. “Well she said your well behaved and that you try hard” she said sparing Tom the comments about how adorable he was “But she thinks you might not be ready for her class.” That was exactly what what Tom had feared. “But I'm not even supposed to be in her class” Tom said exasperated. “Now honey, we both know the test they gave you showed you had some catching up to do. Mrs. Sanborn says your really struggling with what the other children are learning. And maybe if you had a little less pressure you could learn how to undo your pants. ” Tom sank into his chair. “Can't I at least have a little more time to try?” he pleaded. “She wants to have a parent teacher conference tomorrow. We'll talk about it then. And you know I won't let anything happen that's not in your best interest right?” “Yeah, I suppose” Tom acknowledged as he glumly went about finishing his dinner. But as he sat he felt a new sense of determination. Like never before he was committed to figuring out that hated latch and proving to everybody he really was grownup. Suddenly feeling buoyed he sat his plate in the sink and ran up to the room to begin. He sat and struggled for several hours. Several time he almost gave up but he knew this was his last chance to prove that he didn't need to be sent to an even lower grade. Finally he did it. He knew it was odd for a 13 year-old to feel proud about being able to undress himself but he couldn't help it. Quickly he buttoned back up and tried again releasing the latch with little trouble. Like a proud toddler he called his mom in to witness his new found skill. “I knew you'd get it. Maybe that will help convince the school to keep you in the fifth grade.” His mom said patting his head. Tom would have ordinarily resented being patted on the head in such a manner but he was far too happy to care. And when his mom reminded him that it was nearly his new 9 O'clock bedtime he didn't feel any need to protest. His simply got into his PJs by himself and went to bed finally feeling at least a little grownup. At school the next day Tom was still confused by the lessons but he was beginning to think that if he could figure out the latch he could figure out this stuff too. Even when class ended and his mother and the principal came in to discuss his future he felt very confident. Tom took a seat next to his mother and waited as the adults exchanged greeting. “Now down to business” Mrs Sanborn began “One of my biggest concerns is that Tommy doesn't seem to be able to handle undressing himself to use the restroom.” “But I figured it out” Tommy interrupted. He stood up and began to demonstrate his new found skill. He felt a little ridiculous doing this in front of three people but he know it was necessary. But something was wrong, he did exactly what he did the night before but the latch didn't come undone. “I did it last night, I don't know why it isn't working. Maybe it's broken or something” He said feeling a bit of panic. “Tommy hon” Mrs. Sanborn said “They all work differently. Every pair has it's own combination if you want to call it that. And most of them have a little computer chip in them that rearranges the way it works every day.” Tommy looked at her like she was insane. “But why? Why do they even put these on here?” Tommy could only keep looking at her in shock as she went into an explanation he could barely understand. All he could manage to figure out was that it had something to do with promoting neurological development. Tommy fell back into his chair wondering how he'd ever figure out all the different latches, especially when some of them even changed. He barely paid attention as the three adults went about discussing his readiness for the fifth grade. “Well” the principal said “What I'm going to do for now is put Tommy in the third grade and we'll see if we need to something more drastic.” “Third grade?” Tom said in disbelief “Can't you just send me back one grade?” “Don't worry you'll have a chance to work your way back” the principal reassured him “But as part of that we're going to expect you to take care of your own clothing. We think in a setting were your won't struggle so much with school you'll be able to learn to handle that on your own.” On the ride back Tom barely spoke a word. In the back seat sat his new uniform, a similar shirt with a pair of short pants and suspenders. The shirt had the name “Tommy” sewn neatly into it. His mother was clearly thinking hard about something and that suited him just fine, he didn't want to talk about this anymore. Suddenly he noticed she was turning into the parking lot of the local supermarket. “Mom” he finally spoke up “Can't we just go straight home today?” “I'm just going to get one thing, now come along with me.” “I'm just going to stay in the car and listen to the radio.” “Don't you remember how you got lost in the mall? I just want to keep a close eye on you.” Tom sighed and got out of the car. As he began to step out into the traffic lane he felt her grab his arm. Looking up at her and noticing the seriousness in her face he quickly acquiesced and took her hand. Inside the store he paid little attention to where his mother was going as he followed her and nursed his wounded pride. Finally she stopped and he looked up at the bright packages lining the store's diaper aisle. He watched in silent horror as his mother placed a package boy's Pull-Ups into the cart. “Mom please” he began to plead not thinking how he was clearly identifying himself as the intended wearer “I promise I'll try really hard, I don't need to wear diapers.” “These aren't diapers honey, I don't think you need those yet. But I can't have you coming home in wet pants every day.” He opened his mouth again to protest but was cut short. “I've already made my decision. As soon as you show that you can use the potty you can wear underwear again.” He began to speak again but quickly thought better of it. “Do you understand?” She asked. Yes.” Tom replied meekly. “Good boy” She said stroking his head. “I have a feeling this will work out in the end.” Chapter 7 When they returned home they both went straight to Tom's room to get him into his training pants. After being helped out of his pants Tom quickly grabbed a Pull-Up from the open bag. He was in no hurry to start wearing them but he at least wanted the dignity of putting them on himself. He looked at the brightly colored thing he held in his hands and a bevy of cartoon characters smiled eagerly back at him. He didn't recognize any of them but they were clearly meant to appeal to preschoolers. “The little stripe goes in back.” His mother helpfully pointed out. Seeing no reason to delay further Tom pulled his brand new pants into place. They weren't like real underwear the way the ads said. They were obviously thicker. Tom try to reassure himself that this wasn't a diaper, but he knew it was close. His mother held out his pants for him to step into. “Now I'm not going to help you with this anymore except for getting you dressed. You'll learn how to do it yourself, you just need to try. And if you have an accident just let me or the school nurse know and we'll help you get into a new Pull-Up. OK?” Tom couldn't believe the words he was hearing. It was his Pull-Up and he was going to need help from grown ups changing into a new one. He could only nod his acquiescence. “Good boy. Now go watch TV and I'll get dinner ready” giving him a pat on the bottom. As dinner approached his bladder began to strain. He'd made a few attempts at the button but quit in frustration. Now the need was getting dire. He walked the the bathroom, every step felt like it could shake loose the flood gates. He struggled again, twisting and pulling at the strange device. But control slipped away from him. This time there were no wet pants, just the damp heaviness of his training pants. “Tommy, dinner's ready!” He no longer took note of the name. How could he tell his mother he'd wet his Pull-Up after just a few hours of having it on? He crept into the kitchen still unsure what to say. “Hey honey. How's your Pull-Up doing?” she asked with an unnerving amount of casual directness. “Oh... It's still fine.” Tom said looking down. “Are you sure” she said trying to catch his gaze. “Yea...Yeah” She crossed her arms and looked him directly in the eyes “Do I have to check?” “Alright, I sort of had an accident.” “I thought so. Let's go get you into a dry one.” She began to lead him back to his room. “You need to tell me if you have an accident. You could get a rash if you don't changed soon enough.” Once in his room he was relieved of his shoes and pants. “Dry as a bone” his mother commented as she quickly inspected his pants. “Looks like we won't have to worry about leaks.” Tom started to remove his Pull-Up. “Oh honey let me get that, you don't know where to put it” she lowered the sodden thing and helped him step out of it before tossing it in a pail that had taken up residence near his bed. “I'm sorry sweety, I forgot to buy wipes hold on a sec'. She left for the bathroom and returned with a wet cloth in hand. “Mom, please let me do this” he pleaded. She thought for a moment and handed him the cloth. “OK, but if I notice you aren't cleaning up well enough I'm going to do it myself.” Tom breathed a sigh of relief and washed himself as thoroughly as he could manage before stepping into a new Pull-Up and getting dressed again. He went downstairs again for dinner and tried to content himself with this one measure of maturity he was still allowed. Eventually his bedtime came and all he could think about was getting out of his new juvenile underpants. He rushed to remove the Pull-Up on his own as his mother dropped his clothes in the hamper. “Is that dry” she asked as he walked over to the pail. “Yes, it's totally dry” he said. She leaned over and took it from his hand. “Just let me see” she said gently but with a pronounced sense of maternal authority as she took it from his hand. “Yep, dry as can be. Good job” she said as she deposited in the pail. “Why don't you try to go use the potty before bed OK?” “But mom, I don't need to. And would you stop saying potty. Just cause I've had a few accidents cause of these stupid buttons...” She raised an eyebrow and Tom relented. Without any impediments he was able handle his business on his own for once. When he came back he found his mom holding another Pull-Up. “Mom, I don't need one of those. I don't wet the bed. I just have accidents sometimes.” “I want you to wear one at night for a while just in case. Especially if you're going to be so unwilling to use the potty before bed.” Tom moaned again and slid himself into his nighttime Pull-Up and got into his PJs.. He was tucked into bed with a good night kiss and drifted off to sleep. Chapter 8 Tom could hear his mother already up getting things ready for the day as he slowly came awake. He felt the still unfamiliar snug padding beneath his pajamas and recalled the previous day. As he reached down to feel the front of them he found himself dry and wondered how he'd come to even doubt it. The door slowly opened and his mother peeked in. “Good morning sweety, did you sleep OK?” “Yeah I guess.” “Good” she sat down as his bed “Still dry?” “Of course” Tom said almost managing to sound like nothing else could have even crossed his mind. “Good boy” she said softly ruffling his hair “I just wanted to explain a few things about today since there's a lot of new things happening. I'm going to put some of your Pull-Ups in your backpack. When you get to school I want you to go to the office and give them to the nurse, she'll keep them in a cabinet for you. After that one of the office ladies will show you where your new classroom is. Do you think you can handle that by yourself or do you want me to go with you?” “Mom, that stuff is really simple. I'm not really some little kid. I can handle it.” “Of course your a big boy” she said chucking him under the chin “I just want to make sure your comfortable with all these changes.” “Thanks mom, but I'm sure I can do it on my own.” “Just remember you can have the office call me if you need anything. Now get a shower and I'll get your clothes out.” Tom grumbled to himself as he got out of bed. “And remember to put your Pull-Up in the pail.” Seeing that she wasn't going anywhere he got out of his PJs and dumped his training pants in the pail. He saw her watching closely to make sure it really was dry. The shower gave him a rare few moments of privacy and independence. He had a small shower radio that hung from the nozzle. He turned the knob until he zeroed in on a faint and distant station playing something that sounded like what a teenager ought to be listening to. He closed his eyes and tried to take it all in. But somehow it seemed wrong, like something from a place he didn't belong. He turned off the shower, grabbed his towel, and returned to his room. He found his mother waiting for him with his new school clothes in her lap. “I almost forgot” she said “The latches on these need to be done when you put them on too. It's supposed to help more with neurological development. It's not supposed to help as much in the later grades so they use a different kind.” Tom stood in shock as she held out his Pull-Ups for him to step into. “You mean you're going to get me dressed too?” “It's not a big deal honey, it's just until you learn how to do it yourself.” He sighed and put one foot and then another into his training pants and his mother soon had him in his brand new school uniform. “You look nice” she smiled as she made a few adjustments. Tom looked down at the hopelessly juvenile clothes he'd just been helped into and wondered what his friends back home would think. Even as a real third grader he'd never had been caught dead in short pants and suspenders. “I look like a baby” he complained. “No you don't. Those are perfectly fine clothes for a lit...” she cleared her throat “I mean big boy. You just have to get used to them is all.” Later that morning he was again dropped off at Kiddie Town Daycare. He slumped into his usual seat and glared at the floor. “Hey Tommy” shouted an excited voice. He looked up and saw Johnny smiling at him once again. “How come you're wearing one of the younger kid's uniforms?” Johnny asked “And how come you never told me your name before?” He asked pointing at the name stitched in his shirt. “I'm wearing this because... well because the teachers are all stupid. And I didn't tell you my name because I don't want to be friends with a big dumb baby.” Johnny rolled his eyes “I was just asking some questions, jeez.” Tom looked down again feeling a bit embarrassed by his outburst. He looked up again and saw Johnny walking back to rejoin his friends. He thought almost spoke up again to apologize but held back. In time his bus came and took him to back Sunny Brook. He walked into the office and up to the desk. “I'm supposed to give some stuff to the nurse and then I have to go to a... uh... different class room.” He explained. “Oh you must be the boy whose going into the third grade. Tommy Welton right?” Tom just nodded “Yes, could I just see the nurse and get this over with please?” “I'm sure you're excited to get to your new class dear, but there's just a few things we need to do first” She took out a form from beneath her desk. “Now what is your P.A.T. Number?” Tom look at her dumbfounded “I don't even know what that is.” “Oh a big boy like you must remember that.” She said expectantly. Tom just shook his head. “See if he has one of those big yellow cards” suggested one of the other secretaries “They usually give them to the Kindergarteners but he may have one too.” “I don't have one of those. Can't we just do this later?” Tom pleaded. “We can just skip that part for now” She looked further down the form “OK, are you a N.E.C.P student?” Tom blinked “I don't know what that is either.” The secretary just shook her head a bit “That's OK hon, we'll just call your mother. She'll know all this. Just go have a seat over there.” She said motioning to a row of seats behind him. Tom sighed and sat down. His legs dangled from the enormous chair as his mom was called to take care of the process for him. He didn't understand much of what they talked about except for the part about how cute he was in his uniform. After a few minutes she hung up the phone and walked over to him. “There we go hon, all taken care of. Your mother asked me to make sure you didn't forget about your pullups.” Tom gasped a bit “She told you about that?” She smiled bemusedly “It's no big deal. Just hand them to me and I'll take them over to Nurse Carlson.” Tom sighed and tried as discreetly as he could to retrieve them from his backpack and hand them over. He watched as she went a short way down the hall and sat them down on a table just outside a door. “Debra” she called into the room “these diapers are for Tommy Welton. I'll just leave them right here.” She walked back over to him “Now let's get you over to Mrs. Taylor's class.” Tom trotted along behind her wondering if he'd even be able to make it as a third grader. Mrs. Taylor's class was just getting underway when they came through the door. “Sorry we're late, we had a few details to go over with his mom.” she explained. “Oh you must be Tommy” the tall and slightly graying woman at the front of the class beamed “We were waiting for you. You can have your seat right next to Johnny and we'll begin.” Tom looked over at the empty seat right next to the kid he only knew as some persistent runt from the daycare. He took a breath and sat down. Johnny smiled and whispered “Hey, maybe we can be friends after all.” Tom just ignored him. “Class this is Tommy Welton. He's new here and I want you all to give him a good welcome. You're in luck today Tommy. We're going to be going over gravitational lensing which should be review from the second grade so you won't have much catching up to for today.” Tom could only stare as an elementary school teacher once again patiently explained concepts that he couldn't even grasp, every now and then she'd jot some alien word on the blackboard. “Now” she said with one firm clap of her hands “I think we're ready for a little pop quiz.” As the children around him groaned in disappointment Tom began to panic. He didn't want to be sent back any further but he was sure to be found out as having no idea what was going on now. As the quiz sheets were passed around the room he could only hope that it would at least be a true-false quiz. But when they pale blue sheet landed on the desk in front of him he didn't even know where to begin. He sat, pencil in hand, frozen. While the teacher turned her back to help another student he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Johnny discreetly tilting his already completed quiz toward him. He quickly jotted down the answers and sat down his pencil just before Mrs. Taylor turned back around. The quizzes were collected and Mrs. Taylor went to her desk to grade them, instructing the class to begin reading chapter 9. Tom leaned over and whispered to Johnny “Thanks. You really saved my life. I'm sorry about being mean to you, I'm just sort having trouble with teachers and stuff.” “No problem” Johnny whispered back “Wanna play at recess.” Tom hesitated but he decided it might be for the best to just try and fit in. “Alright, I guess I can see what you guys do around here. Johnny beamed “Cool.” Once recess came Johnny led the way out a series of squares and circles painted on the blacktop. They soon joined by two other boys Tom recognized from his new class. “Tommy, this is Scott and Kyle. We usually play Boxes and Circles at recess.” “I don't think I've ever heard of that” Tom said. “Oh it's really easy” Johnny said before launching into a long and intricate explanation. “Oh OK” Tom said scratching his head. “I guess I can try to learn.” “Great, just ask if you get confused we all play this a lot so we can help.” Tom stepped into one of the squares as he was instructed and watched some of the initial play before the ball came bouncing his way. Thinking he'd gotten the hang of it he jumped to catch it. “No catchies” explained Kyle “That's minus five points for Tommy.” The rest of recess went on in much the same way with Tom losing points and the other boys displaying obvious patience for their new playmate. By the time the bell rang he was far behind, despite his wounded pride he felt relieved to have finally had a little bit of fun and make friends. Even if he was being treated like an interloping little brother he felt like he was beginning to find a place here. As he sat down at his desk he realized he'd been so focused on his game he hadn't noticed his growing need to use the bathroom. It was nearly an hour and a half to lunch and he already very much needed to go. He hesitated at first but as the strain in his bladder grew and the clock slowed he raised his hand. “Yes Tommy, do you have a question?” Mrs. Taylor said pausing her lecture. “I really have to go to the bathroom.”Tom nearly begged. She thought for a moment “We usually expect our students to tend to themselves during recess but I'll let you go just this once.” Tom thanked her and quickly walked to the door. Outside he began to run as fast as his overflowing bladder would allow but this time he didn't even make it to the end of the hallway. He'd nearly forgotten abut his Pull-Up, now it was sodden and heavy, there was only enough dampness to remind him of his accident. He paused and thought. If he went to the nurse right away everyone would surely know something was wrong, Mrs. Taylor might even ask what took him so long in front of everybody. He waited a reasonable amount of time and walked back to class. When the lunch finally came he nearly sprang from his seat in his eagerness to get out of his clammy training pants. “Hey Tommy” called Johnny “Don't you want to eat lunch with us?” Tom turned back around “Oh yeah! I just have to do some... stuff first. I'll see you guys in a few minutes.” Johnny just shrugged as Tom sped off to the office. He paused at the nurses door. She was busy refreshing her supplies. She was obviously younger than most of the staff, though still very much an adult to Tom's eyes. Tom stood and watched her. He struggled to find the words he needed to say. Before he could say a word she caught him at the edge of her vision and gave him a energetic smile “Hey there Tommy” She said bending down to face him at eye level. “Did you have another accident hon?” she said sympathetically. “Yeah, kind of.” She put a hand on his shoulder “Well let's get you into something dry then.” She walked over to a drawer on the other side of the room, retrieved one of his Pull-Ups, and sat it down on the examination table. “Do you need some help with those pants?” She asked. Tom just nodded and she effortlessly undid them and pulled them down to his ankles. She began to help him out of his wet Pull-Ups. “Do you like the Cartoonimals?” She said noting the design. “Huh?” “You know The Cartonimals. Cartoon animals. Lots of kids around here watch them every day.” “Oh uh, my mom just sort of picked them out for me. I didn't even know what they were.” “Well they're very cute” she said as she pulled out a fresh wipe. “I do that myself” Tom interjected. “I was just thinking I should talk to your mother about that” she said as she cleaned her new patient with expert care “You're already getting a little red. She might be a little more thorough.” she tossed the wipe into a nearby waste basket. “Don't you feel better already.” Tom nodded bashfully. “I thought so” she said holding out the fresh pair of training pants. She helped him back into his clothes. “There you go, all nice and dry.” She adjusted his suspenders and stood back up “Now don't forget to come here as soon as you have accident. I don't want to have come checking up on you.” “Thanks. I will” Tom stammered. “Now go play with you friends.” She shooed him out the door. He rushed to join his friends at lunch. “Hey Tommy. Your just in time” Johnny said “We were just talking about Hegelian dialectics. Scott says that negations come from outside the matter being discussed. I say that they're inherent and internal. What do you think?” Tom looked back and forth between them blankly. “I uh... agree with what you said” he nodded and said to Johnny. He picked over his lunch while the others continued their discussion. He felt like a little kid at a grown-up dinner party. As the afternoon wore on Tom couldn't believe how much he had to catch up on just to be in the third grade. Hardly anything made sense to him. When class was finally dismissed he quickly began to gather his things so he could escape and at least have a chance at enjoying the weekend. But Mrs. Taylor called him over to her desk. “Tommy, I can't help but notice you looked a little confused today. Are you having trouble keeping up with the class?” “No, it's just that there's some new stuff here I didn't learn before.” She nodded “I thought that might be the case” she reached into a drawer beneath her desk “We usually use these in the lower grades but it might help.” She sat a brown teddy bear down on the desk. “This is an Interactive Learning Teddy” she explained “It comes loaded with some games to help you learn some of the more basic material. And it even plays lessons while you sleep. It's very effective. I've already talked to your mother and told her all about it. She sounded very excited about trying it.” Tom stared at the toy for a while. “Well I guess I can try” he said said resignedly. He picked it up and tried to put in his backpack but it wouldn't fit. So he thanked his teacher and made is way to meet his mother, teddy bear clutched firmly in his hand. Chapter 9 Tom climbed into the passenger seat and started to toss his things in the back while his mother greeted him enthusiastically. “Hi honey! Where did you get the teddy bear.” Tom sighed “Mrs. Taylor gave it to me” he said flatly “It's supposed to help with learning or something.” His mom retrieved it from the back seat and admired it for a moment “Well that was very nice of her. You'll have to think of a name for him.” She handed the bear back to her son. “One of our new neighbors invited us over for dinner so we'll just go home real quick before we head over there.” “Do I really have to go too? Couldn't you just order a pizza for me or something?” She began to pull out of the parking lot “There's no way I could find a babysitter in time. You'll be fine.” “But I don't need a babysitter.” He said as defiantly as he could. The car came to a stop at a red light and she looked him right in his eyes “Honey, even if I thought you were big enough you'd still need somebody help you if you have an accident.” Tom tried to stammer a response. “If your a good boy tonight we'll go see a movie. You can even pick” “Alright” He acquiesced. Karen smiled and mussed his hair. “I knew you'd come around. They have a teenage daughter, maybe you two could play video games or something.” Tom arrived at the Lyndens' front door with his face freshly scrubbed and hair neatly combed courtesy of his mother's tending. She rang the doorbell and reached down to adjust his bangs once more. “You look very nice.” Mrs. Lynden greeted them both at the door and ushered them inside As they entered the dining room room Tom wondered why his mother had mentioned the daughter but not the younger child for whom a a bright red plastic booster seat had been set up at the far end of the table. “I've set up two places for you and Tommy over there” Mrs. Lyndon said pointing towards the childish thing. Knowing he was expected to be on his best behavior Tom stifled his complaint and tried to settle himself into his designated seat. Without a word he felt his mother's hands at his sides lift him up the last little bit and place him in the booster before sliding the chair back into place. The floor was now well out the reach of his dangling feet and he realized he'd need help again to get down. As this helpless situation dawned on him he looked at the place setting in front of him. Among the neat white plates and shiny silverware sat his plastic plate decorated with some now familiar cartoon characters. Mrs. Lynden saw his surprise and smiled. “Nurse Carlson at your school is a very good friend of mine. We just happened to be talking today and she said how much you like the Cartonimals.” He wanted to protest that he hadn't even known what they were until she pointed them out on his pull-ups. But that wasn't a topic he wanted to bring up. “Thank you.” he managed. “That was very thoughtful of you Susan.” His mother said as she sat down. The doorbell rang again and Mrs. Lynden excused herself to answer the door. “You being very good, just keep it up and we'll go see that movie tomorrow.” Karen said. Mrs. Lynden brought two more guests into the living room. “Karen, Tommy this is Bill and Theresa Burnette from down the street.” She turned to the new arrivals “And this is Karen Welton and her little boy Tommy.” The adults exchanged hellos and Bill, a heavy-set broad-shouldered man with thin graying hair gave Tom a soft playful punch on the shoulder “How you doing there slugger? Enjoying your new school?” “It's fine I guess” Tom replied trying to avoid the subject. “Haley” Mrs. Lynden called up the stairs. “Everybody's here. Would you mind helping me set the table.” A poised confident looking girl came in and graciously introduced herself. She was probably only a few years older than Tom but, but in contrast to his early grade-school uniform, had dressed for the get together in appropriately formal but still fashionable for a teenager clothes. After another round of introductions she went into the kitchen to help her mother bring out the food. With everybody settled in dinner was served. Almost everything was well out of Tom's reach so his mother prepared his plate for him and sat it down. Conversation around the table mostly drifted around adult topics that had little understanding of or interest in though Haley kept up with them quite nicely. Once dessert was out of the way Mrs. Lynden announced that coffee was avalable. “Tommy, we have some video games you might like. Do you want to go with Haley while you chat some more?” Eager to escape the boring adult chit-chat and hangout with somebody around his won age he nodded enthusiastically. As his mother pulled his chair away from the table he avoided anymore assistance by jumping down out of his chair. “Looks like somebody's excited to get some playtime” Mrs Burnette observed “Sorry about boring you with our grown-up stuff honey.” Tom followed Haley down the hallway and into a spacious room with a couch and some beanbag chairs arranged around a TV. A small chest brightly labeled “toys” sat in one corner. “I thought you guys didn't have any other kids here.” Tom said looking puzzled. “We don't. This is just where my mom and I watch the kids we babysit.” Haley replied as she sat down on the couch and picked up a magazine. “All the video games are in the basket next the TV, you can play whatever you want.” “But I thought...” Tom looked back at her engrossed in her fashion magazine. He realized she wasn't here to hang out with him, he knew his place in this arrangement. With a sigh he sat on the brightly colored carpet and turned on the video game system. He didn't really care what was in it. Just that it would distract him from his predicament. As it turned out he'd started something called Floppy Bunny's Big Adventure. He'd never heard of it before and the cutesy graphics didn't seem appealing. This was obviously just a game for little kids but he tried it anyway and became engrossed. He struggled at first but slowly adapted to the challenge. The urgent prodding of his bladder went almost unnoticed. Tom suddenly become aware of the direness of his situation and shot to his feet. “Where's your restroom?” He asked, straining to keep himself dry. “Oh just down the hall” Haley answered “You don't need any help, do you?” Tom barely gave it a thought, he couldn't bare asking for help from somebody who should have been his peer. He took off quickly down the hall and began the familiar struggle with his buttons. It was to no avail though, and his training pants were once again the only thing keeping his pants dry. He sulked out to the dining room and whispered in his mother's ear. She stood up and retrieved her purse from beneath the table. “Excuse us for a second, we just have a little something to attend to” she said as she began leading Tom back to the bathroom. Once again he was stripped down to his pull-up. She kept a calm demeanor but Tom could tell that constantly getting him undressed was beginning to be a chore. He wondered if a new solution might be in store. She pulled a baby wipe from her purse. “The school nurse said you might need some help with this sweety, so stand still.” Tom hung his head slightly while he was cleaned up. Next she retrieved a fresh pull-up. “Now I only brought one spare. So we should probably go home soon.” The lingered at their neighbor's house only a little while longer. Karen thanked her hosts their hospitality and thanked Haley for her help as well. She and Tom headed back home. When bedtime came around Tom was helped out of his clothes. His mother started to get a night time pull-up ready for him but he couldn't help but protest. “Mom, I was dry all last night. Please. Just let me try one night without a pull-up.” She paused an looked at him. “Well you did wake up dry. And you were a very good boy tonight at the Lynden's.” She thought for a moment “OK, we'll try going without a pull-up tonight.” Tom breathed a sigh of relief “Thank you, thank you.” He gave his mother a big hug. She smiled and patted him on the back “But you have to sleep with you bear tonight, that's going to help you at school. And if you're wet in the morning I don't want any more complaining about wearing a pull-up at night. Understand?” Tom nodded “I promise” and pulled his PJs up. He was finally feeling like a big kid again. He took his bear and placed it next to his pillow before climbing into bed. “Good night honey, sweet dreams.” She said as she turned out the light. “Good night mom.” As he lay in the darkness he could hear a strange soft humming coming his teddy bear. It was like nothing he'd heard before but soft and soothing. Before long he had drifted into a very, very deep sleep. Chapter 10 In his dreams Tom walked through a forest beside a babbling brook. He came a a clearing and found a large wooden table stacked with candy. At the head of the table was his teddy bear. “Come Tommy. Sit with me.” He felt almost like he was floating right into a chair besides his teddy. Everything was vivid and real. He could even feel damp grass beneath his bare feet. He looked down and saw he was wearing his pajamas. “Where am I?” he asked. “You're in Teddy Bear Forrest of course” said the bear. Tom glanced up and saw clouds forming in the sky. He started to get up. “No you need to stay here” said the bear. “The more time you spend here the better you'll do in school. Here have some tea.” The bear reached over and poured some tea into a cup that has suddenly appeared. He poured it to the very top of the brim and small trickle ran down the side. Before Tom could say another thing the clouds above him opened up and he was drenched by the falling rain. His room was bright and sunny. He could hear his mother coming from down the hall. For a moment he couldn't understand how the rain had gotten inside, how it had soaked him in his bed. But then he remembered. The door opened and his mother stepped in. “Good morning hon, how are you doing?” Tom just looked down at the wetness between his legs. “I'm sorry mom. I really tried.” “Oh no.” She said as she sat down on the side of his bed and embraced him. “It's OK baby, it's not your fault. Just go get showered and we'll talk about what movie you want to go see.” “Tom's mood brightened slightly “You mean we're still going to do that?” “I don't see why not. Now go get cleaned up and I'll take care of your sheets.” Later as she pulled into the movie theater parking lot Karen asked one last time “Are you sure you want to see this movie? It's supposed to be really scary.” “Mom, I can totally handle it. I'm not really some little kid.” “We can still go to the Floppy Bunny movie, Haley said you really liked that video game.” “You said I could pick the movie and I want to see Ghost Invaders.” “OK, but if you start getting too scared I'm marching you right out of that theater.” They bought their tickets and Tom strode confidently to his seat. All he had to, he thought, was sit through one dumb movie and he'd convince his mother that he wasn't a total baby. This lights dimmed, the film rolled, and the screen came alive with images more vivid than he'd imagined. Theaters back home weren't like this. The movie wasn't 3D but he could almost swear the pictures were coming off the screen. Every rustle of leaves, every footstep, every sinister growl sounded like it was right behind him. He could almost feel the breath on the back of his neck. Without thinking about it he sought out his mother's hand to hold his own. In his horror he inched closer to her, instinctively seeking her protection. Finally he couldn't bare to look at the screen any longer and buried his face in her shoulder. Suddenly he felt himself lifted from his seat. Gentle hands cradled his back and bottom before his feet finally found the ground again in the brightly lit lobby. “It's OK baby it's just a movie” she said stroking his chin. “I know. It was just really... scary I guess.” She wiped the fearful tears from his cheek. “Do you see why I thought Floppy Bunny might be better?” He nodded. “How's your pull-up doing? Did you have an accident?” Tom became aware of a familiar dampness. “Maybe” Karen took her son's hand and led him to the baby changing room. Tom was still too shaken to do anymore than go along. She lowered his pants and checked his pull-up. She began untying his shoes. “I'm sorry Mom” He said “I just wanted to show you I wasn't a baby” “I know you want to be a big boy” She replied while she helped him out of his pants.”But just remember that it's OK to be little too.” She cleaned him up and got him back into dry pants. “I have few errands I need to do. Do you feel OK enough to come along? We could get stop at the ice-cream place at the mall if you'd like.” Tom nodded “That sounds OK.” “Come on then.” She took his hand and they walked back the car. The mall parking lot was packed. Tom remembered their last visit and looked around nervously. “Don't worry” his mother said while she searched for a place to park “I'll make sure you don't lost again.” She found a spot at edge of the lot and opened the trunk. Tom watched as she retrieved something from the trunk, unfolded it, and sat it on the ground in front of him. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. She rolled a stroller back and forth a few times to get the wheels straight. “Hop in sweety. I'd like to start shopping before the lines get any longer.” “But that's for babies.” Tom said incredulously. His mother adopted a patient but slightly sterner tone. “It's for children who have trouble keeping up with their mothers. You remember what happened last time right?” “Yeah, but...” Tom stopped himself. It was just getting harder and harder to argue that he could by in this strange place without being treated the way he was. “I'm know how this must look to you but I also know this is better for you. If we have to turn around and go back home there will be consequences.” Without further protest he settled himself into the stroller. It wasn't awkward and uncomfortable like he'd expected, instead he was nicely accommodated among the babyish designs of the stroller. “I knew you'd be a good boy. Let's go get you some ice-cream.” Securely within his mother's charge Tom was pushed into the thronging mall and to a small ice-cream stand near the entrance. He really just wanted to make as few stops as possible, but he couldn't pass up the scoop Triple Chocolate Fudge he was offered. He ate greedily, enjoying the treat so much he nearly forgot his situation. And with the rich desert settled satisfyingly in his stomach and the steady pace of his mother's pushing he began to feel drowsy. His stroller came to a stop outside a clothing store. His mother knelt down beside him with a baby wipe in her hand and cleaned a stray bit of chocolate from the edge of his mouth. She saw the heaviness in his eyes, she smiled and smoothed his hair. “You can have a little nap if you want honey, I'm just going to be shopping for a while.” She resumed navigating her son through the crowd as he slowly felt himself drift off to sleep. He heard his mother's voice somewhere nearby as he came back to reality. “I've thought about it. I'm just not sure yet. It would be a lot easier than taking off his pants every time though.” “I'm sure you'll make the best decision for him.” An unfamiliar woman's voice answered “Either way he's simply adorable in his little stroller.” He opened his eyes and glanced around. He was parked next to his mother in a small cafe. The unfamiliar voice belonged to an happy looking round faced woman. “Look who's waking up.” she said “Hi there Tommy, your mother and I have just been chatting.” His mother looked over at him. “Hon, this is Mrs. Kerner, she lives in our neighborhood.” Tom squirmed a bit, realizing the women had been talking about him. “Oh, uh... hi.” “Are you still dry?” his mom inquired. “I think so.” “Are you sure? You were out like a light?” “Mom I only wet the be... I mean I'm sure.” “OK then, I won't check as long as your sure. I think it's time to start heading home now anyway.” Karen paid for her coffee and said goodbye Mrs. Kerner before taking Tom back out to the car and driving back home. Tom went straight to his room and flopped onto the bed. He'd hoped a weekend away from school would be a chance to be his own age for two days. But he just kept getting treated like a little kid everywhere he went. Worse than that it all seemed necessary. Absentmindedly he began fiddling with a button on the front of his teddy bear. It's eyes lit up and a speaker hidden within emitted a soft happy song. “Would you like to play the Algebra game with me?” chirped the bear. Tom turned the bear over, looking for someway to start the game. After a minute he looked around to make sure nobody was watching. “Yes” he almost whispered into the bear. “Oh good” said the bear “I've been waiting a long time to play with you.” Tom found the answer and response style of the game immediately intuitive and, for once, the subject matter was something he was at least a little bit familiar. He became engrossed that he didn't notice his mother at the doorway. “Good to see you enjoying your teddy.” Tom tried to compose himself “It's OK. I was just sort of bored I guess.” “I was just going to remind you to try using the potty. You haven't had an accident yet have you?” Tom's eye's widened and he sprinted past his mother and to the bathroom. Even without the disadvantage of his button being to difficult for him it would have been nearly too late. Fatefully he had another accident. He returned to his mother to get cleaned up and changed. “You can stay up a little while longer” she said tossing his pants into the hamper and starting to help him with his shirt. “But it's getting close to your bedtime so I want to get you into your jammies now.” With the sun barely down Tom was dressed in his night clothes. He spent the rest of the evening watching TV until he was tucked into bed after having his Pull-Up checked and found dry. His mother turned out the light on her way out and darkness fell across his room. Memories of the movie flooded back. Every shadow seemed to be a ghost and the world beyond his darkened window was cold and foreboding. He took his teddy from it's place near his pillow and held it against his chest. As though sensing his fear it began to play a soft soothing lullaby. He hugged it tighter. Chapter 11 After a second night of teddy inspired dreams he woke up wet again, this time protected by his training pants. It became a familiar pattern over the next few days. Tom felt himself slipping further and further towards babyhood and it seemed like he could do nothing about it. One evening he noticed his mother searching the Internet for diaper sizes. On Wednesday morning Tom walked into his third grade class to find Johnny and some of his classmates discussing a new arcade that had opened not too far from school. Everybody, it seemed, had gotten permission from their parents to go after school. “Hey Tommy are you coming too?” Johnny asked. “I don't know” Tom said hesitantly thinking of being stuck alone in his Pull-Ups. “Come on, at least ask if you can come.” A light came on in his head. This was a way to demonstrate maturity. He could just make his way without any grown-ups around and then they'd all know he was really big. No more holding hands, and certainly no more strollers. He nodded “OK I'll call her at recess.” The day's baffling lessons hardly seemed to matter anymore. His plan was in place. He Johnny, and some other kids would walk a few blocks to the city bus stop, ride just a few stops and visit the arcade. He could almost hear his mom telling him how wrong she'd been. At recess he went to the office with Johnny and Kyle in tow and asked to call his mother at work. “Hey mom” he began “Me and some friends want to go to a new arcade after school. Can I go?” “That sounds like it would take an awful lot of responsibility Tommy. I don't know if...” “Please” he begged “I won't be alone or anything.” He heard her inhale deeply “OK. But only for half an hour, I'll pick you up there. And you have to stay with you're friends the entire time. And you absolutely have to go to the nurse before you leave, even if you don't feel wet I want her to make sure.” They were restrictive terms but they were more freedom than he'd had in ages. “Thank you mom.” Tom gushed “I promise I'll do everything you said.” The rest of the day seemed to glide right by as Tom imagined what other new privileges he'd soon be winning for himself. After the bell rang his group began to make their way to the bus stop. Tom tried to think of an excuse to run to the nurses office but nothing came to mind. He resolved to keep up with his group. He'd only had a small accident, and it was only going to be a half hour. At the stop Tom peered at the vast array of signs, tables, and maps. “Are you guys sure you know where you're going?” He asked. “Of course” Kyle replied “We don't even have to change buses.” “Yeah, I guess it is pretty simple” Tom said nervously as he resolved to try to follow his friends as closely as possible. The bus rolled up and his friends quickly squeezed themselves into the crowded vehicle. Tom searched for a spot but couldn't even find a place to stand. “Just get on the next one” Johnny suggested “It's just a minute. We'll wait for you.” Tom gulped and stepped back down to the empty bus stop. He watched his friends wave as the bus thundered off. He looked around and briefly contemplated walking back to school to call his mom again but he wasn't even sure of the way back. As his panic rose another bus lumbered to a stop. Still feeling lost and confused he climbed on and a took a seat. The bus shuddered away from the stop and immediately took an unexpected turn. After a trip of what seemed like miles Tom got off at the next stop and scrambled to find the bus back. The signs offered nothing but a tangle of arrows, dots, and numbers so he just got on the next bus that seemed to be going the other way. But soon he was riding through completely unfamiliar streets. His half-hour of freedom came and went and he was still desperately lost, his bladder bulged again. He no longer cared at all about the arcade he just wanted to be at home with his mom. He decided to abandon his attempts at navigation while he searched for a restroom. He found one near the entrance of a park and darted in. He fumbled with his button briefly but soon the familiar sensation of wetness came gushing. His already wet Pull-Up could hold no more and soaked the front of his short pants. He stepped back outside, tears already in his eyes. As the sun began to sink below the horizon he sat down on a lonely bench, put his head in his hands, and cried. He heard a car come to a screeching halt and looked up. “Tommy! I've been looking everywhere for you!” He heard his mother exclaim as she ran from her car. “Mommy!” The word simply burst out of him. They embraced each other tightly. “My baby, I was so worried. Nurse Carlson called to say you hadn't come by. So I went to the arcade and couldn't find you. I'm just happy you're OK.” “I'm sorry mommy” the word came out again through heaving sobs “Please don't be mad.” “I'm not mad baby, I shouldn't have let you have so much responsibility. You should have gone to see Nurse Carlson before you left but” she looked at the wet spot running down his school uniform “That really doesn't matter now.” She sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to her “There's a few things I want to explain to you.” Tom sat warily down next to her as she put an arm around him. “Tommy, I know you've been trying very hard but I don't think you're ready for your school yet.” anticipating a protest she put a finger to is mouth “Now just listen. Mrs. Taylor says you're still having trouble with your lessons and she thinks your friends are helping you with your quizzes.” Tom looked down. She'd seen right through it all along. “From now on” She continued “You can just stay at Kiddie Town until I come pick you up. They have lots of toys like your bear and the teachers there can you learn some of the same things.” “You mean you're sending me to preschool?” Tom gasped. “Tommy, be honest. Do you really think you can keep up with everything your third grade friends are doing?” Tom thought about the days events and about how he always seemed to be just tagging along. “I guess not” he admitted. “And there's one more thing” she said broaching a long unspoken subject “You haven't been having a lot of luck making it to the potty and I've noticed that you're getting up to go later and later.” “But I can keep trying” He stammered She shook her head. “Honey. Training pants are for children who just have accidents sometimes. They're really hard to change and their expensive. Now before I went to look for you at the arcade I went out to the store and when we get home I'm going to put you in a diaper.” “A diaper?”He looked back down at his pants and his protest softened “Do you really think I need them?” She hugged him “I'm afraid so honey. Are you going to be a good boy and come with me so we can get you out of those wet things?” Tom looked down at his wet pants and thought of the trouble his disobedience had caused him. He sniffed and nodded “OK mommy, I'll be good.” She smiled at him warmly and gave him a big hug. “Let's go home.” After a short drive home Karen walked through the front door with a paper bag full of diapering supplies in her hand and her son following closely behind. “Come on” she said as she led him upstairs. She sat the bag down on his bed and went straight to his dresser to retrieve some dry clothes. “Now just sit down and I'll take care of everything.” Tom sat on his bed and felt his sodden Pull-Up squish wetly beneath him. He just wanted out of it. His mother sat the clothes down next to him and got a pale green package of diapers from the bag. She opened it and light babyish aroma wafted though the air. She pulled out a single diaper and sat in on top of his dry things. Tom studied the baby animals designs playing across its front, he never thought his Pull-Ups would seem so grown up. A bottle of baby powder was placed next to it. She undid his suspenders, lifted his shirt over his head, and instructed him lie back. She slid off his shorts and tossed everything in the hamper. Finally she removed his Pull-Up and disposed of it with a thud in the bin. She took a few wipes and made very sure he was all clean before cracking open the bottle of baby powder. Tom just watched, he was amazed at how much quicker and efficient the process seemed now that his mom was handling it all. She spread a thin layer of baby powder all over him and at last picked up and unfolded the diaper. “Just lift up a bit baby.” She slid it under his bottom, made a few quick adjustments, and taped it snugly into place. She started grabbing his new clothes. “Now I don't expect you to try to get to the potty anymore, but if you know you're wet you should let me know right away.” He nodded. At least in resigning himself to this he'd be relieved of a cumbersome and frustrating responsibility. They both went down stairs and had dinner. Afterward they sat together on the couch and watched TV. He was home, he was safe, and he things he could no longer look after himself were being tended to. It was hard to understand why he'd fallen into this role so easily. He could only wonder what lay ahead. As he pondered these thoughts the weariness of the day began to creep in and he fell asleep on the couch beside his loving mother. Chapter 12 In the morning Tom was changed out of his soaked night-time diaper and helped him into his third grade uniform again. He'd be getting a new preschool one today his mother promised. His mother got him to Kiddie Town early and began the process of officially enrolling him in preschool, specifically the class they referred to as The Little Ducklings. The Little Bunnies class was reserved for children who'd been successfully potty trained. “You're both very lucky today” explained the secretary “We just had a new spot open up in Ducklings.” While Tom waited for the adults to wrap up their business Johnny spotted him. “Hi Tommy” he chirped “Sorry about you getting lost like that. We just thought you'd be able to use the bus since you're kind of a big kid an all.” “That's OK.” Tommy said “It was really my fault I guess. I should have just gone home.” “Do you still wanna play with us? We've got some really fun ideas for recess today.” Johnny offered. “I can't.” Tom looked down and heaved a sigh as he made an admission “I have to stay here instead of going to school with you guys.” A look of realization crossed Johnny's face “Oh, so you're going to be in preschool now.” He paused “You might be a little less confused than you are in our class. They teach really simple stuff like algebra. And the teachers are really nice. And you won't have to keep going to the school nurse to get changed.” Tom looked back up in shock “You know about that?” Johnny shrugged “Sure, why else would you keep going to the nurse's office like that. Especially since you always did it after you asked to go to the bathroom.” Tom stammered. “It's OK” Johnny replied casually “Maybe we can play after school. That's when they let you preschoolers out to play with us big kids.” “Uh sure. I guess.” Tom said still stunned. “OK then, see you later” Johnny said as he bounced off to the big kid's room. Tom turned back around just as the adults finished with their business. “This is Mrs. Hansley” his mother said motioning towards a young blonde woman “She'll show you around and help you get your new clothes on.” “Hi” Tom offered as he tried to assess the new situation. Mrs. Hansley knelt down “Hi Tommy, we have lots of fun things for you to do here. Just say bye to your mommy and I'll show you your new classroom.” He exchanged a good-bye hug with his mother “Be a good boy” she patted his bottom “And don't worry about getting to the potty. Just let the ladies know when you need a change and we'll see about getting you back into big boy pants later. OK?” Inside Tom winced, he wondered if it was too late to protest this change in status. He'd felt so scared and vulnerable on that park bench that he would have agreed to nearly anything. He wanted to ask her to reconsider, but before the words came he was watching her walk out the door. “Don't worry hon” Mrs. Hansley as she took his hand and led him through door that separated the preschool section from the the regular daycare “She'll be back to pick you up at the end of the day.” Two doors where on opposite sides of the hallway. On the right was one decorated with a cartoon rabbit, and the left was a happy cartoon duckling. One small boy was being led from the duckling room to the other. “Good job getting potty trained Andy” Mrs. Hansley addressed him as they passed. Andy smiled back and followed his new teacher through the open door. On the other side of the Little Bunnies room Tom could see into a small bathroom. The door shut behind Andy and he turned to look into his new classroom, several changing tables lined the wall. Tom's preschool teacher retrieved a pair of shortalls and a striped shirt from a nearby counter. On the bib of the shortalls was a picture of the same duckling that was on the classroom door, a comically large pin held its diaper in place as it smiled eagerly. “Now let's get you ready for school and I'll show you all the fun things we have here and the other teachers.” She began untying his shoes and Tom took a moment to look around. He was surprised by how calm everything seemed to be. All the children were happily absorbed in toys or painting or being tended to by one of the other teachers. Something about it seemed welcoming. Once he was down to his diaper Mrs. Hansley casually slipped a finger just under the leg gather before moving to getting him into his shortalls. Tom looked around again, one group of children was watching a cartoon that seemed familiar. Once he was securely in his new preschool outfit Mrs. Hansley quickly took out a small pen-sized device and twisted it into the buttons on his shoulder straps and two other snaps on the front of his pants. “What was that?” He inquired. “Just a tool for grown-ups, don't worry about it.” She answered patting his head. She showed him around the various parts of the classroom. There was an area with a toy box, one with a TV, some tables setup for painting, and a playground outback where the preschoolers could play as long one of the teachers was supervising. “You can do whatever you want for now” she explained “But everybody has to be quiet for storytime, and then lay down for a nap.” Two other teachers Ms. Kelly and Mrs. Peterson moved about the room observing things and occasionally shuffling one of their charges off to the changing tables. With a pat on the bottom Tom was dismissed to find something to do until storytime. He looked back to the TV, something about the cartoon was familiar. He walked over to the group of children gathered around and watched for a moment. Then it dawned on him, these were the Cartonimals everybody had kept bringing up. They were currently involved in comical explanation of simplifying an algebraic expression. Tom recalled the subject from his old school. But this was different, somehow he was interested. Without giving it a second thought he sat down cross legged on brightly colored carpet Soon he was laughing along with his preschool classmates and swaying to the the simple songs. He never noticed the dire urgency of his bladder until it was already giving way. In a moment he realized he was sitting in a wet diaper in the middle of a preschool watching a kid's show, but he couldn't pull himself away. Mrs. Peterson, an experienced preschool teacher, somehow suspected. As she walked by she quickly reached beneath Tom's shortalls. “Jessica” She said to Ms. Kelly “We have a wet little guy here. Would you mind?” “Of course not” she replied. Tom looked between them in shock. Ms. Kelly knelt down beside him a put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry, I'll just put you in a dry diaper and you can go right back to watching your cartoon.” She took his hand and led him to a changing table. “Do we really have to do this out here?” Tom said. “Where else would I change your diaper silly?” She replied as as she set a disposable mat onto the table. “It's just that the school nurse before changed... I mean helped me out of my pull-ups in her office.” Ms Kelly smiled “Don't worry sweety, we have everything we need to change your diapers here too” She said motioning to a neatly stacked box of powder, wipes, and other supplies “Just let us grown-ups worry about stuff like that” “No I mean” Tom stammered as she hoisted him up onto the table. He could see his protests would go nowhere. Nobody would see him as and different than an everyday preschooler. She gently pushed him back onto the padded surface. Then she unfastened his shortalls and quickly went to work. “So you really must like the Cartoonimals, you've been watching them all day.” “Yeah they're kind of interesting I guess” Tom replied. “Do you want to try something else after we're done. Maybe try some of the toys?” Tom shrugged “Sure.” With a fresh layer of baby powder applied and a new diaper in place his pants were snapped back up and he was taken to the opposite corner of the room were toys of every description filled shelves and boxes. Ms. Kelly gave him a pat on the bottom and left him to play among the other preschoolers. Tom settled down next to a small toy train set. He looked around for the engine and found a pile gears, wheels, and parts. He scooped them up in his hand, he could almost see how they were supposed to go together. He began playing with the pieces, trying different arrangements. Finally he worked out a configuration that seemed to work. He flipped a switch and all four wheels began to turn. A smile grew across his face. He sat his new train down on the track and he watched with open delight as it ran around the track. Soon another boy sat down next to him and picked the train up. “This makes it faster” he said before taking out a few gears and rearranging them. He put the train back and it took off faster than before. Tom realized that there must be many more combinations. He couldn't wait to try more. But before he could pick the train up again Mrs. Peterson was calling everybody for story time. Tom reluctantly left his train behind and sat down on the edge of the group gathered around Mrs. Peterson's chair. Today's story, she announced, was Spaceman Simon and the Three Laws of Motion. The title reminded him of something and as he listened to Mrs. Peterson's slow sing-song reading he remembered hearing about this once, something about the scientist who'd gotten hit by an apple. It never interested him, and he never understood it. But in the story of Spaceman Simon it was something he could understand. He leaned in closer to see the pictures and Mrs. Peterson turned the book around to show everyone. Mrs. Hansley began passing out sippy cups to all the children. Tom almost balked but decided to try it, it was warm and sweet. He drank some more while he sat and listened. He finished his cup just as the story came to an end. The teachers began moving everybody into the nap room. Tom paused in the doorway and looked at the rows of cribs crisscrossing the room. “Can't I sleep on a mat or something” Tom asked Mrs. Hansley as she walked by. “Oh these are lot more comfy than some old mat” she said before getting an idea. She grabbed a stuffed rabbit from a nearby shelf “Here you can have this stuffed bunny if you're scared. And one of us teachers will always be in the room.” She smiled and handed him his stuffed rabbit before giving his diaper a quick check and hoisting him into a nearby crib. “But I'm not scared, I just...” “That's good” she said giving his head a quick pat “Just lie down and try to sleep.” Tom sank down to the mattress, rabbit still in hand. Mrs. Hansley pulled his blanket over him. “Good boy” she said softly “after all that playing and starting a new school you need some rest.” She slid the crib's railing into place and moved on to other children. In a few moments the lights were dimmed and lullaby began to play over unseen speakers. Tom laid there and realized he was tired, very tired. The crib's mattress seemed perfect. His blanket was soft and warm. And the music, the lulaby was simple but so deeply soothing. He wondered why he'd wanted to take a nap anywhere else. He closed his eyes and fell alseep. He awoke again to Mrs. Hansley standing over his crib. “Did you have a good nap?” She said not even waiting for an answer before she checked his diaper. “Let's get you over to the changing tables.” She helped him out of his crib and took him back to the main room where the other two teachers were busy changing the last of their student's naptime diapers. Tom could only wait before Mrs. Peterson finally came to tend to him. Once he was in a dry diaper and back on his feet he scanned the room for something to do. His new favorite toy was already being played with. He sat down next to it anyway, just to observe. To his surprise his new new classmates, Mike and Sammy, welcomed him and he quickly joined them in building and playing with new trains. His new friends introduced him to other toys. There were toy robots, cars, and puzzles. Tom could hardly tear himself away from any of them. He barely noticed the hours slip by until he heard his mother's voice from across the room. He looked up from his toy car and she waved him over to where she was talking with Mrs. Hansley. Still enthralled with all the new toys he'd found he rushed over to her “Hi mom, I was just playing with this cool car thing.” he quickly began enthusing “You can build the engine for it and everything. It's really cool.” She looked at him with bemused surprise “Well I'm glad you had such a good time. Mrs. Hansley was just telling me what a great addition you are to the class.” Tom looked down in embarrassment at his display of enthusiasm and tried to shift into a more mature bearing. “Yeah I guess it was alright.” But a peek back at his mother and teacher sharing a knowing look told him it was already too late. Karen turned back to Mrs. Hansley “How did he do about letting you know when he needs a change?” The experienced preschool teacher dismissed the whole idea with a wave of her hand “We can work on that when starts getting ready to train. Until then we're happy to just let him play.” “Oh, well I guess I won't worry then either.” Karen said as she gave her son's head a gentle stroke. “You said you had something for us to take home.” “Yes” she retrieved a brightly colored book from her desk “This is a coloring book we give all our students. We don't really have lessons here but we do try to instill some of the basics. Tommy can go through this at his own pace, it has some puzzles and games that teach basic algebra, geometry, that sort of thing.” “Thank you, seeing how he liked his day here I'm sure he'll have fun with this too.” She looked back at Tom “Say 'thank you' to your teacher sweety.” Tom accepted the book and took a moment to examine the picture of young children among giant algebraic equations. “Thank you, Mrs. Hansley” with more than a trace of genuineness. With that his mother took his hand bid his teacher good-bye and led him out the door. He looked back as the door shut and couldn't believe he wanted to go back. Chapter 13 Tom sat cross-legged on the living room floor with his new coloring book sprawled out in front of him and a fresh red crayon in his hand. He puzzled over one of the first pages. “Help Farmer Jim put his Periodic Sheep in order of atomic weight” the text at the top cheerfully suggested. The TV sat silent, he'd shut it off after seeing another ad for Ghost Invaders, his coloring book suddenly seemed more inviting. In the kitchen his mother was having a tense phone conversation. He began absentmindedly coloring the barn while he contemplated what he was to do with this puzzle. Across the hall his mother's conversation came to a halt. She walked into the living room and sat down with a sigh. She looked over at her son and Tom froze assuming he was in some sort of trouble. But her wearied face turned to a smile. “Already starting your coloring book huh?” “Yeah, I was just bored is all. I'm trying to figure this one out.” “Well come over here, maybe I can help.” Tom gathered up his coloring book and took a seat on the couch. His mother smiled again. “Not there silly” she said as she lifted him onto her lap. She chuckled at his evident surprise. “It'll be easier to help you here” she said brushing his hair lightly before putting her arms around him and taking the book in her hands. Tom settled into his new seat, relieved he wasn't the cause of his mother's distress and pleased he seemed able to relieve it somehow. She examined the troublesome page for a moment. “I bet there's a periodic table somewhere in here.” “Isn't that the chemical thing?” Tom asked “I haven't learned that yet.” “Well that's what this is for” she said thumbing quickly through the book “to help you learn new things.” She came found what she looking for and pointed out one of the numbers. “This chart shows all the elements and their atomic weights” she explained patiently “Each one of the sheep has letters on it that tell you what element it is. Like this H means that one's hydrogen. You just have to look them all up and see which one has the largest atomic weight and put a one next to it, and then do the others in order.” Tom nodded partly understanding “I get it. But what does all that mean” “I'll explain while you work on the sheep” she said and reached over to retrieve a box of crayons from the coffee table. They worked their way through a few more pages. Tom hung on his mother's words and when she praised him exuberantly for every right answer he felt like he'd won a Nobel prize. “Thanks mom, that really helped a lot” Tom said as he shut the book and began to get up. “Thank you for making me feel better” she said pulling him back into a hug. “What was that phone call about?” “Nothing you need to worry about.” She noticed a sogginess as his weight shifted “We should go out to eat tonight. But first I think you need a change.” She let him down and he began to leave. “Just stay right here” she said as she retrieved a diaper-pin patterned mat from nearby. “I don't see any reason to go upstairs every time you need a change.” She laid it out and began gathering all the necessary diapering supplies into a neat row while Tom resignedly laid himself down in front of her. He wondered how much his own behavior was contributing to this casual attitude about his diapers. Did he really seem like that much of a baby? She worked swiftly and his shortalls were being fastened over a fresh dry diaper before he could complete these thoughts. Together they walked out to the car and started their way to a nearby restaurant. Venturing out into the world beyond home and the colorful walls of Kiddie Town made him more acutely aware of his uniform. The night-time air was cool on his legs, he grateful his diaper was warm and dry. He knew by now that to everybody else his age was defined by the clothes he wore so he was prepared for the hostess's broad smile and careful tone as she welcomed he and his mother. Her question surprised him though “Will he need a highchair tonight?” she asked. “No” Tom answered emphatically for himself. Still she looked to his mother for confirmation. “No thank you.” She said lightly. They were shown to their table and Tom was left with a children's menu a complimentary sippy cup of juice. Karen smiled at the special treatment her adorably shortall-clad son was getting. “I hope things like that don't bother you too much.” “It's OK. I'm sort of getting used to it.” “That's good to hear. I think I'm getting used to it too. Getting to hold you in my lap again really helped after a long day.” Tom's cheeks burned slightly “I had fun too I guess” “Good, I really hope you enjoy this time as much as I do.” Tom looked at her with a bit of surprise “You mean you don't mind having to... do all that extra stuff.” She shook her head emphatically “My biggest job is take care of you when you're too little to do it yourself and I enjoy doing it.” “But I'm not really...” “Honey, some day you'll be ready to go back to school, but for now I really hope you can accept this and enjoy being my little guy.” Tom blushed redder but he felt good knowing his mother saw things that way. Karen noticed a small smile growing on her son's face “After all you had fun at preschool today didn't you?” Tom squirmed a bit “Yeah, it was fun I suppose.” “Well keep having fun and maybe it will all get easier.” They continued chatting over dinner. As Karen left her money on the table on got up to leave she quickly checked Tom's diaper. “You're fine for the ride home” she said and then she thought for a moment “You know I saw a toy store just across the street. If it's still open we could go in and get you something. Maybe that car you were playing with today.” Tom was deeply tempted but he couldn't quite go that far “No thanks mom.” But his mother could see the way his eyes had lit up “OK, but let me know if you want a new toy and we can go and pick something up.” The next morning Tom was laying on a rug at preschool absorbed in a Speak-n-Say. He pulled the cord “Apoapsis is the highest point in an orbit” a happy voice chirped from within. He looked through rain washing over the classroom's windows to elementary school school kids trudging to their bus. Inside the teachers were distributing a morning snack along with sippy cups of milk. Tom took his and surveyed the classroom while he enjoyed his treat. He noticed that Cartoonimals had already started playing so he wandered over to take a seat. Olly Otter was elaborating on square numbers to Gavin Giraffe, who though he was the tallest and implied to be the oldest of the group was most often the recipient of these lessons. Tom settled in and finished his snack. As the show drew to a close he found himself in the mood to try something new. He walked over to the art section and took a seat. Where he expected to find simple ordinary finger paints or maybe some crayons or brushes there was instead a thumb sized pen with several buttons and dials on its surface. He picked it up and examined it. Around him the other children where using them with unconscious ease. Tom shrugged and decided to figure it out on his own. He pressed the largest button, nothing seemed to happen. He turned a dial, still nothing. Finally he tried the next largest button, the pen vibrated for a moment before firing a giant stream of green ink across the front of his shortalls. Ms. Kelly was soon by his side. She took the pen from his hand and surveyed the damage. “Oh sweety, you should have asked one of us for an apron before you started. We're going to have to clean you up.” Tom could only look at himself in horror. We wondered if there was something even lower down the chain than preschool in store for him. Ms. Kelly saw his reaction and patted his head “Don't worry. You're not in trouble it's just a little mistake.” She led him over to the changing tables and undid his shoulder straps and lowered his shortalls to the floor. She then removed shirt leaving him standing in nothing but a diaper. “Oh dear” she said “It looks like it soaked through.” Tom looked down at himself. If his cartoon-animal print diaper didn't make him look like a toddler then the messy smear of paint across his chest certainly completed a certain picture. Ms. Kelly sighed and turned to consult with Mrs Peterson for a moment. “I think I'll have to give this guy a bath. Can you cover for me for a few minutes.” Mrs. Peterson nodded and Ms Kelly thanked her while she gathered Tom's clothes and took his hand. She led him to the other side of the classroom and through a door to a small tiled room. Here a bathroom for the teachers was apportioned with a tub, apparently for situations such as these. For a moment Tom was relieved to be in relative privacy but as Ms. Kelly began to draw a bath he realized what she had in mind. “I can do this myself” he protested “I always do it at home.” “I'm sure you can do lots of big boy things” Ms. Kelly said patiently as she reached for his diaper “But this is hard to get off, just let me do it and you can go back to playing.” Tom dodged her hand with a step back “Just let me try.” Ms. Kelly adopted a sterner tone “Does somebody need corner time? I'm sure your mommy wouldn't be happy to hear about how cranky you're being.” Tom froze. He thought about how happy his mother had seemed with him the previous night. Somehow the threat of punishment didn't seem as bad as disappointing her. “OK” he said reluctantly. He was quickly relinquished of his diaper and helped into the warm soapy water. He was immediately struck by strong pleasant aroma of the bath soap. Something about it was so soothing, so disarming. She began to scrub his thoroughly. Though he could barely discern it there really did seem to be a technique involved in removing this paint, he could only sit while her expert hands did the work. “Boy you really splashed yourself. Hasn't your mommy taught you to use an ArtPen?” Tom shook his head “No, I never even heard of it before.” “I could show you how after you're all cleaned up, does that sound good?” Tom nodded “Yeah, that sounds OK” As he got out of the tub she wrapped him in a giant fluffy towel and began to dry him off. “There we go” she said as she inspected her work closely “all cleaned up.” She hoisted him onto the a nearby changing table and got her newly clean charge into a fresh diaper. From somewhere beneath the table she produced a simple baby blue onesie “You can wear this while we wait for your clothes to get out of the washer.” She said as she pulled it over his head and snapped him into it. “Oh, thanks” Tom said. At least he wouldn't be wandering around in nothing but a diaper. They emerged back into the classroom just as everybody else was assembling for story time. Tom was surprised to find himself glad he hadn't missed it. The day's selection was Bubsy Beaver Meets the Colorful Chloroplasts. Tom couldn't help but be aware of being much more thinly dressed then everybody else. His onesie was snapped snuggly between his legs and made him more aware than ever of his diaper. But as Mrs. Hansley began reading he hung on every word. After story time the children where again ushered into the nap room. While Tom was considering renewing his protests of the day before Ms. Kelly swept him into a crib and raised the side rail. “Don't worry your clothes will be ready when nap-time is over” she tried to reassure him. Mrs. Hansley came by with familiar toy in her hand “Tommy here just gets a little anxious without his bunny. Don't you sweetheart?” she handed him the same stuffed bunny he'd slept with before. Tom again resigned himself to settle into his crib as the lights dimmed and a soothing lullaby played over unseen speakers. As he drifted into sleep he noticed a faint glowing from the corners of his crib. He barely had time to wonder what it might be before he was asleep. Tom sat in his living room surrounded by a bevy of toys. He had his teddy bear and his stuffed bunny both close at hand as he fiddled with his toy car. His mother came in and stroked his hair while she sat down next to him. She joined in with him, helping him assemble a new engine for his car. It all seemed so normal and easy, he was happy to have his mother by his side. Then he was standing beside a crib in his own room while she helped him into his PJs. She kissed him on the forehead and offered him his stuffed animals before lowering the rail. We awoke to Ms. Kelly standing over his crib with his freshly washed uniform in hand. “Come on sleepy head” she said “I'll get you back into your clothes and you can go play.” Back at the changing table Tom was changed out of his soaked diaper and dressed in his uniform once again, cleaner and well powdered for the journey. “Do you still want to learn how to use an ArtPen” Ms. Kelly offered. Tom shrugged “Sure.” Ms. Kelly led Tom over to the art area and got him into an apron emblazoned with the same duckling logo that was on his shortalls. She handed him one of the strange devices and took one for herself before kneeling down beside him. She began to go over each button and dial in slow and patient detail. Soon he was drawing crude lines of his own, only getting a small amount on his apron. Before long a picture was taking shape. The only thing he could really think of at the time and the only thing he could manage to draw with this unfamiliar technology. Two stick figures, representing his mother and himself, stood happily in front of a red house with smoke rising from the chimney. He knew it was childish but he was proud to have learned something new. Ms. Kelly took a moment to praise her student. “Good job, I bet you're mommy will put this right on the refrigerator.” She carefully curled the paper into a tube and put it in a small cubby labeled “Tommy.” Tom busied himself with the toy train for the remainder of the afternoon. Soon he heard his mother calling to him from across the room. She greeted him with a hug and pat on the rear “Mrs. Hansley says you have something you want to show me.” “Yeah, I guess I sort of do” Tom said blushing slightly but excited to share his new talent with his mother. Mrs. Hansley handed him the sheet of paper and he opened it. “Awww that's very sweet” She exclaimed causing Tom to blush brighter. She put a hand on his shoulder “It's very good Tommy, I'm really proud of you for learning new things.” Tom thanked her and they hugged again. “You smell really nice too, that was good of Ms. Kelly to help clean you up” She commented. Tom blushed again and couldn't help but wonder if baths would be a part of his future as well. They both said their farewells to Tom's teachers and left hand in hand. “I'm going to put this up on the refrigerator” She promised. Tom smiled bashfully. Not so long ago the idea would have been unbearably embarrassing. But he knew he'd made his mother happy, and for now that felt better than anything else. Chapter 14 Tom awoke to the sound of his mother preparing breakfast below. He held his teddy against his chest nestled in the curve of his body. He'd gone to sleep with it beside him, but he always seemed to wake up this way. His sleep had been getting deeper since he'd started sleeping with it too, part of the learning benefits he assumed. The door slowly opened and his mother peeked in. “Good morning sleepyhead” she smiled “I was starting to think you were going to sleep all day.” “Good morning mom” he responded “I guess I was just kind of tired.” She walked over to his bed and pulled back the covers “It's Saturday do you want to try getting out today?” She said as she casually pulled his pajama bottoms to his knees. “Sure” Tom answered “What is there to do?” “We'll talk about it about breakfast” She untaped his sodden diaper and dropped it in the pail. “You just keep on waking up wetter and wetter. I may need to get you some thicker diapers before you start leaking.” Tom didn't even have time to respond to that embarrassing suggestion before she pulled his top over his head. “Now do you want to take a shower yourself or do you want some help.” “Mom, I can do it myself.” She looked slightly disappointed “But you we're so nice and clean yesterday. You're sure you don't want a grown-up to do it.” “Believe me. I'm sure” “OK. But if I don't think you're doing a good job I might change my mind. I left some new soap in the shower I want you to use.” she stood up and tussled his hair as she left “Just hurry up. I'll have breakfast ready soon.” Tom sighed and shuffled to the bathroom. He turned the shower knob and began one of the few personal tasks still left to him. He let the water run over him for a few moments before noticing what his mother was talking about. He picked up the plastic bottle and turned it over a few times. Inside were three chambers filled with clear, amber, and blue liquids each with a small button. They fed into another chamber which seemed to rotate, maybe for mixing Tom guessed. He experimented with it for a few moments without a satisfactory result. When he could get something out of the bottle it was either a small glob or a jet of watery liquid. He put it back down in disgust wondering why everything had be so hard. He picked up the tiny sliver of bar soap that was left, it was small but it would have to do. Having heard him finish his shower his mother followed him to his room. “Just lie back and I'll get you ready for the day” she said as she pulled a diaper from the bag on his dresser. Tom did as he was told and watched as his mother collected his clothes. She got him into his diaper and playfully poked his chest “I can tell you didn't use the right soap” “I couldn't figure it out. Is the normal stuff good enough?” She held out his pants “You'll need to start using it to prevent diaper rash.” Tom compliantly stepped into them “But that's what the wipes and powder and stuff is for. Why do I need the soap too?” “Because that's just not enough” She pulled his shirt down over his head and took a moment to adjust it “I'll give you some time to figure it out on your own OK?” Tom sighed “Alright, I'll try” “Good boy. Now let's eat breakfast.” In the kitchen she sat a stack of pancakes on his plate and got a small sippy cup from the refrigerator. “Mom! I can drink from a normal cup.” “This is what you drink at school. You're teacher says you like it, it comes from the store like this.” Tom looked at the cup for a second and thought about the wonderful sweet tasting treat he enjoyed at preschool. But he shook his head. “No thanks, I'll just have some orange juice.” He watched as she set it back, halfway wishing he could just bring himself to ask for it. She gave him a glass of orange juice and sat down at her own plate. “Have you thought of anything you'd like to do today?” “Not really” “Well I have some shopping to do but I heard there's a really nice amusement park here. Would you like to go that?” Tom shrugged “Sure” After they were finished Karen quickly cleared the table. She took a cloth and ran it under the sink briefly. “So store first and then park?” she said as she wiped a bit of syrup from Tom's mouth. Tom tried to recoil from the sudden intrusion but it was over before he could react. “Yeah I guess” Tom answered while he watched her pick up a large blue bag and hoist it to her shoulder. “Mom, is that a...” He stammered. “It's just so I can carry some of the things I need. It's a big purse really.” Tom looked at the powder blue thing in horror “But it's got teddy bears and stuff on it. It's all... babyish.” “It looks just fine. The important thing is that I can change you while we're out. Would you rather have to rush home every time you wet or just never go out?” “No. But do you really need that?” She nodded “I just want to take care of you the best I can. Just trust me. Remember what I said about you being my little guy?” Tom looked down and blushed “Yeah I sort of remember that I guess.” “Well I meant it. And that means I'm going to do the best for you even if you think it's a little embarrassing at first.” She looked him in the eye “So are you going to trust me on this one or do you just want to stay home all day.” Tom looked up at her. Deep down he knew she had his best interests at heart “It's OK” he sighed “Let's go.” They climbed into the car and a short drive later they pulled into a supermarket parking lot. Tom was sure he knew what this was about. And sure enough he was led to the baby aisle and told to wait by the cart. His mother quickly found a fresh package of diapers, larger than the one he had already nearly depleted. Tom watched as she piled extra wipes and powder into the cart as well. Then she turned her attention back to the packages of diapers. She paused at a row of items that promised “Extra night-time protection.” She looked at her son “Stars and moons or animals again.” “Huh?” Tom replied, not fully understanding the question. “Nevermind honey, I think I'll get these” she said tossing a package into the cart. Now Tom could see that this brand seemed to be decorated with the same baby animal motif as his current diaper, but this time they were portrayed sleeping on little cartoon clouds. The clerk gave him a warm knowing smile as she rang up their purchase. “Somebody must be a heavy sleeper.” She said to his mother. “He's almost soaked through every night. I just hope these don't leak.” She replied. Tom looked at the ground. Even without his toddlerish school clothes she still immediately knew they were for him. “Mine was the same way, but these always held up well” The clerk said. “That's good the hear” Karen said as she collected her bagged groceries. “Have a nice weekend.” Back at the car Tom's mother took the diaper bag from her shoulder and took a moment to stock it with new supplies. She quickly checked Tom's diaper “You're OK for now. Ready for the amusement park?” Tom just nodded. He wasn't sure what to make of this public outing but at least it would be something different. They drove across town and walked up to the ticket booth. Karen paused to retrieve the stroller from the trunk. She turned to her son as she unfolded it “This is just in case you get tired or if we run into any crowds. I don't want you getting lost again.” Tom just sighed and followed her to the ticket booth. “One adult and one child” Karen informed the attendant. Two tickets were slid beneath the glass “We have special programs today for kids at the planetarium” the attendant said glancing between the diaper bag slung over Karen's shoulder, the stroller, and the child standing quietly near his mother's side. “I suppose you'll be interested in the Little Astronauts Club. They'll have a puppet show at noon. Just after the big kids have their lab.” “We just might look into that” Karen said as she ushered her son towards the gate. Once inside Tom's eyes followed the twists of the roller-coaster before him to its intimidating summit. The ride had been visible from some distance, but here in its shadow it all seemed like far too much. “I'm sorry Tommy. Looks like we'll have to find some other rides.” He looked over to his side, a large sign with a red line about two inches above his head announced “You must be at least this tall to rise our roller coasters.” “Oh, that's too bad” Tom said trying to sound disappointed as he looked back at the frightening mass of wood and steel before him. A group of elementary schoolers passed by on their way to the coaster, somehow taller and somehow unafraid. Not regretting the former for once he followed his mother as she pushed the stroller towards the other side of the park. They passed under a large archway bearing the words “Tyke's Land” and into a broad courtyard surrounded by festively colored rides. Tom surveyed them cautiously, he could guess which one his mother would suggest. “Would you like to go on Floppy Bunny's Forrest Romp” she offered, pointing towards tree decorated building into with various animal shaped cars disappeared at regular intervals. “Sure” Tom said. They checked the stroller at a small booth and climbed aboard a smiling frog. The ride's machanism clicked below them and they were pulled into a long corridor dressed up fairly convincingly like a forest. The voice of Floppy Bunny echoed from somewhere above inviting them to chase him to his den. “Want to try and steer?” His mother asked Tom took a non-committal hold of a steering wheel in front of him as the ride entered a much larger room. Before them stood an image of Floppy Bunny. Tom peered at it quizzically unable to figure out if it was a projection, a hologram, or some other strange technology. The room shuddered and began to spin as the rabbit began diving behind trees. Tom began to realize that the room was something like a bumper car ride. He found a pedal and begin to move the car forward. The rabbit leaped wildly about and Tom began steering more and more eagerly in its direction. He bounced off a tree and laughed never noticing his mother's bemused grin as she watched him play. Finally near the center of the room he caught up with his quarry. The mysterious animation disappeared and the lights came up. “Congratulations friends!” a voice echoed “You did a really good job catching me. Let's play again soon.” A mechanism caught the car and began moving it to another passage and up a ramp. Tom beamed proudly at his mother. “That was fun.” “I could see” she said mussing his hair “And you were pretty good at it too.” Tom was too lost in his victory to even bother dodging her hand. The ride came to a halt in the same place they started. As they exited the ride he scanned the other offerings. “Mom, can we go do the maze.” “Sure hon” she responded while the retrieved the stroller “Just wait up a bit.” Tom waited impatiently until she walked up beside him. “Can we go now?” “Not quite yet” his mother answered while casually gave his diaper a quick check “We'll go after I get you changed.” “Oh yeah” Tom said suddenly remembering his diaper. Without a word she took his hand and headed for a small nearby building marked with the blue and white figure of a diapered baby. Inside scenes of small children enjoying the park alongside cheerful cartoon characters adorned he walls. Several toddlers were already being attended to by their mothers. Tom was helped up onto a table where he laid back and joined them. She lowered his pants and reached into her well organized diaper bag. In just a few moments Tom was back in a dry diaper helped back down to his feet. As they stepped back out into the park Tom quickly forgot about that embarrassing interlude and focused again on the maze. He eagerly made his way to the entrance and waited impatiently for his mother to catch up. She arrived and he quickly decided to take the path in front of him. He hurried through a few turns before arriving at an intersection with a sign post indicating the four cardinal directions. A small sign attached was emblazoned with a cartoon penguin trudging merrily through the snow; “Follow Peter penguin to his snowy home” it suggested on bold blue lettering. Tom pondered for a moment. He recalled something from one of the videos at preschool about penguins only living in the South Pole. Excitedly he urged his mother down the southern route. As he continued along this path he encountered more progressively difficult riddles and it each he dashed enthusiastically ahead but took care stay within her sight. He reached the end of the maze and turned around to beam back at his mother as she pushed the up the last stretch. “Good job” she said as she approached. Tom looked down slightly once again realizing his childish enthusiasm. But he was genuinely proud of having figured out the last few bits without making any mistakes. “Thanks” he said with a hint of bashfulness “It kind of helped that we learned some of that in school.” She smiled and mussed his hair “I'm glad you're learning so much. She checked her watch “We should start getting home. Are you ready?” Tom nodded and began to follow her towards the exit. Karen paused for a moment and looked back at her son. With no fun left to have Tom was beginning to feel tired from all his running around. “Do you want to sit in your stroller honey?” she offered sweetly. Tom shook his head “No thank you.” “You mean I had to follow you around with this thing for nothing?” she teased. Tom looked at his mother and smiled. He could see she just wanted to let him rest, and he did feel tired. He sat down in the stroller and settled himself in. In a moment he was being pushed along the park's twisting walkways. Sometime before they reach the parking lot he dozed off. He came to as his mother was opening the passenger side door. She helped out of his stroller and fastened his seat belt for him as he watched her groggily. She paused for a moment examining his seat belt and seeming to contemplate something. “Just go ahead and sleep sleep sweety” she said kissing his forehead. “I guess I'm just getting used to naps” Tom responded settling deep his seat and closing his eyes. He heard his mother quickly putting his stroller and diaper bag into the trunk. With fresh memories of the day he'd spent with her drifting pleasantly through his head he drifted back to sleep. Chapter 15 It was late after-noon on Sunday. Tom sprawled out lazily on the floor with his coloring book in front of him and his teddy bear by his side. The ignored television had drifted from a cheerful cartoon that had held his attention to some baffling show about elementary school kids solving neighborhood mysteries with quantum physics. He wished he'd accepted his mother's offer of a visit to the toy store. There wasn't much for a preschooler to do. He looked up at her sitting on the couch engrossed in a magazine. “Mom, can I get something from the toy store?” he asked. She looked back at him sympathetically “Starting to get a little bored without any toys honey?” “Yeah, I guess we should have gone before. I was just sort of embarrassed.” “I understand” she said setting down her magazine and putting out her arms “You want to come over here and just talk?” Tom waked over to her and allowed himself to be taken up in her lap. “Can't we go now?” She shook her head “Sorry sweety, I don't think we have time. But if you're good for the sitter I'll let you pick out two things OK?” She said cheerfully. Tom groaned “Do I really need a babysitter?” “We already talked about why you need one” she said patting his bottom. “But she's a teenager. She's only like three grades higher than I'm supposed to be” Tom pleaded. “That doesn't matter” she said in a pleasant but firm tone “Besides everybody says the she's best in the neighborhood. And she always brings toys, so maybe you two will have something to do.” “But...” She grabbed him gently by the chin and looked him in the eye “Just promise me you'll be good so I don't have to worry.” Tom sighed “OK.” She smiled and gave him a big kiss on the cheek “That's my good boy.” “I guess it might not be too bad” Tom mused for a moment before being distracted by the opening notes of the Cartoonimals theme. He quickly turned his attention to the television. “Is this the show Mrs. Hansley says you like so much?” Tom nodded excitedly “Yeah, it's really good.” Karen put her arms around her son and let him settle further into her lap. “Would you like to watch it with me?” Tom couldn't help the smile creeping across his face. “Sure.” He settled his head on her shoulder. “That's Gavin Giraffe” he said pointing out the character “He's my favorite.” “I thought he might be” She said smiling. The doorbell rang. “That must be Kirsten.” She sat Tom down on his feet and went to the door. Tom hesitated for a moment. How could he possibly greet this girl who should at least be something close to a peer. He stepped cautiously into the entryway and peered around his mother to girl with energetic eyes who stood in their doorway. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. You're a real life saver” His mother said. “No problem Mrs. Welton” Kirsten said with buoyant confidence. She caught sight of the boy peeking warily from around his mother “And this must be Tommy.” Karen stepped aside and urged Tom over “Tommy this is Kirsten your new babysitter.” “Hi” Tom offered tentatively. Kirsten knelt far enough to be face to face “Hi Tommy. I'm sure we're going to get along great.” “He's already promised to be a good boy” Karen said getting her purse “Didn't you?” Tom nodded slowly “Yeah.” Karen turned to Kirsten “Diapers and things are in the basket next to the couch” she said pointing in the direction of the living room “And there's some more in his room. And don't forget to get him in his nighttime diapers when you put him to bed, he tends to get really wet at night. And my phone number...” Kirsten whipped her phone out of her purse “Already got it. Along with your work, and the neighbors across the street.” Karen smiled and shook her head “It's good to have someone so responsible to rely on. Dinner is in the fridge, I guess I won't need to tell you how to get it ready.” “I have it all taken care of Mrs. Welton. No need to worry about a thing.” “Thank you Kirsten” She gave Tom a hug and a kiss on his forehead “Bye-bye sweety. I'll get home after your bedtime so I'll see you in the morning.” “Bye mom” Tom said politely still blushing from her instructions. He watched her as she waved and stepped out the door, closing it behind her. Kirsten clapped her hands together “So should we get started playing a game or getting out some toys. I have some right here” She said indicating the colorful canvass bag slung over her shoulder” “I think I just want to watch TV right now” Tom said turning toward the living room. “Alright” she said following him “But you can't be shy all night.” She sat herself on the couch as her new charge stretched out in front of the TV “Oh, Cartoonimals! Cool!” She enthused. “Go ahead and watch your show, I'm just going to call a friend. Maybe you'll want to play when it's over?” “Sure” Tom said flatly. “Hey Amanda this is Kirsten” She said to the person at other end of the line “Yeah, I'm just babysitting tonight.” Tom tried to ignore the intrusion. “No” Kirsten said correcting her friend on something “New client tonight,. A little boy so I'm on diaper duty tonight.” Tom tried harder to shut the the conversation out. “I finished all my homework last night, so no problem there.” She continued “There's supposed a test in Mr. Peterson's class tomorrow but it's just on Calabi-Yau manifolds so I'm not too worried.” The conversation drifted into gossip about people and events that may as well have taken place on the dark side of a distant planet as far as Tom was concerned. His world was one of cartoons and storytimes and all these things that he'd once expected to be part of now seemed distant and remote. Soon after Tom's show came to an end Kirsten hung up the call slapped her hand to her knees “Are you ready to play something yet?” “Sure” Tom relented. He could see this was going to be a boring evening otherwise. Kirsten smiled “Good, I could see you were really interested in your show. You must really like the Cartoonimals.” “Yeah I guess” Tom said “Sometimes I think...” He paused wondering if the thought he'd been turning over in his mind was too crazy to say aloud. “Think what?” Kirsten asked. “Sometimes I think it might be hypnotizing me or something.” Tom said in hopes of some outside confirmation “Like maybe that's why I need diapers and stuff.” Kirsten tried to stifle a laugh as she sat down on the floor next to him “You're just a little boy Tommy. I watch the Cartoonimals all the time when I'm babysitting and I'm not hypnotized.” Tom looked at the teenager sitting beside him so poised, collected, and mature. He could only conclude that she was right. Maybe there really was a difference between them. She reached over and gave his hair a playful tussle “Don't worry kiddo, I'm sure your mommy will get you all nice and potty trained once you're ready.” With that Tom became aware of a cold dampness between his legs. He looked down to avoid her eyes. But she tell something was wrong. “Do you need a change now?” she asked. “Maybe” Tom reluctantly admitted. Without another word she pulled back the waistband of his pants and quickly checked his diaper. “Yep, you're soaked.” She quickly found the basket of diapering supplies and began laying out the changing mat. She patted the mat with one hand looking directly at him “Just lie down and I'll get you all ready, then you can pick out what game you want to play.” Tom balked. Being changed by his mother was one thing, his teachers were something else. But being so dependent on this high school student made a certain point. Kirsten put her hands to her hips “Remember how you promised your mommy you'd be good tonight?” But it was a point that couldn't be denied. He looked at her eyes filled with patient authority and laid down in front of her. “That's better” she cooed as she took a fresh diaper from the basket. Effortlessly she undid his button and slid his pants to his knees. She was a bit more generous with the baby powder than his other caretakers and the smell lingered strongly even as she taped his new diaper into place. “There we go” she said fastening his pants “That wasn't so bad was it?” Tom just shook his head. It was always a relief to be out of a cold sodden diaper. It was a comfort he had to rely on others for. And he knew this was someone he could trust as much as any young child would. “I thought so” she said while she reached for a large bag “Now do you want to pick out a game or do you want to play my favorite?” “You can choose I guess” Tom shrugged. She began setting out a board with a path running through a cartoonish forest. Along the way where various sites like a blue trimmed house labeled “Grandma's Cottage” with smoke curling from a chimney or a beaver's dam bearing the name “Bucky's Den.” “First you spin the spinner” she explained “Then you roll the dice and take a card. Each card has an equation written on it and you try to plug the numbers you got from the spinner and the dice into it so you can move the greatest number of spaces.” Tom scratched his head as he turned over one of the cards and looked over it's elaborate series of numbers, letters, and parentheses. “This looks kind of hard.” Kirsten looked in her bag “The other preschool games I have are Calliope's Chemistry Lab and Geometry Land.” “This will be OK I guess” Tom said casting the card back into the pile. Kirsten handed him a teddy bear shaped calculator with big bright buttons. “You can use this and I might you give you some hints if you really get stuck.” Tom took the first turn and furrowed his brow as he looked between the numbers he'd gotten and the strange equation written on the card. He'd knew he'd seen this stuff, but he'd not yet mastered it. He pecked at the calculator for a while and moved his piece a few spaces before turning the dice over to Kirsten. She breezily worked out the problem and moved well ahead of Tom's piece, giving him a quick explanation of how she'd figured out the best way to solve the problem. The rest of the game continued a similar fashion. Tom made a few mistakes which she quickly corrected and gave him some advice. Soon he was winning and while he suspected she was letting him win he found himself enjoying the special attention that was being paid to him. As he landed in the final square she gave him an enthusiastic round of applause. “Good job” She said as she began to gather up the game. “Thanks for helping me with some of the hard stuff. I think I kind of learned some stuff too” Tom said. Kirsten smiled with a bit of pride “Well I do want to go into early childhood education” to she she quickly amended “That means teaching little kids like you stuff like basic algebra.” She glanced at her watch “Are you ready for dinner?” “Sure” “Alright, I'll go get it ready. You can look in my bag and see if there's any toys you want to play with.” Tom reached into the bag as she walked off into the kitchen and pulled out a toy robot. He turned it over a few times and examined the panel of buttons across its chest. He pressed one and the robot sprang to life its mechanical arms and legs swinging through the air. He sat it down and watched as it walked a short distance before coming to a halt. He tried some more buttons and discovered that he could make it turn, walk backwards, or even reach for things. Finally he found a switch that allowed multiple buttons to be pushed before letting the robot go to perform them in sequence. He watched in wide eyed delight as it ran a simple rectangle he'd planned out. He began trying to work out how to get to pick up one of his crayons when Kirsten called from the kitchen. “Tommy! Dinner's ready.” she called. Tom reluctantly left his robot and walked into the kitchen. He found his place set with one of the sippy cups his mother had offered him the day before. He may have protested but he knew there was no chance of convincing her he was too big for such a thing, and in truth he'd come to crave the beverage inside. They both sat down and started their meal. “Is Mrs. Peterson one of your teachers?” She asked between bites. “Yeah, she's nice. I like the way she reads stories.” Kirsten nodded “She was a teacher there when I was in preschool. She's been teaching there forever so she's really really good at it. Mrs. Hansley must still be there too right?” “Yeah. And Ms. Kelly too. She's really nice and she helped me learn how to use an art pen.” Kirsten looked over the the refrigerator “I saw that drawing of you and your mommy over there, that's very sweet and you did a good job.” Tom blushed a bit at the attention but he was genuinely proud of what he'd managed to do “Thanks” After dinner Tom spent the rest of the evening happily engrossed with the toy robot while Kirsten sat and read one of her text books on the couch. Through trial and error he was able to create more and more complex routines. He'd just managed to run it in a circuit around the coffee table and behind the couch to pick up a crayon when Kirsten checked her watch. “Five more minutes till bedtime big guy.” She said. Tom groaned in disappointment. “Don't be like that. You have bedtime story to look forward to, I always read to kids who've been good.” Tom perked up slightly “You're going to say I was good?” “As long as you don't give me any trouble about putting you to bed, sure.” She said before going back to her book. Tom returned to the robot and began dreaming of his upcoming visit to the toy store. A few minutes later Kirsten stood up from the couch. “OK sweety, it's time for bed.” she extended her hand and Tom took it without a second thought. She led him to his room and instructed him to lie down on his bed. She quickly found a neatly folded set of PJs topped with thick diaper and handwritten note reading “Tommy's nighttime things” on his dresser. She quickly removed his shirt and pants before untaping his diaper and disposing of it in the pail. She added a fresh layer of baby powder and slid the extra thick nighttime diaper beneath him “These have the cutest designs” she cooed as she taped it in place. Her voice had become soft and soothing like she was trying to coax him to sleep. After he'd stepped into his PJ bottoms she pulled back the covers and tucked him in. She sat down at the side of the bed with a book. “Now this one of my favorites” she said “It's called Danny's Adventure's in Dreamland.” As she began to read Tom realized that for once this had nothing to do with algebra or physics. It was just a kid's book, but he was transfixed. Fanciful illustrations spilled across every page as he heard the story of boy named Danny and his amazing adventures. As Kirsten closed the book and stood up he felt relaxed and cozy and ready for sleep. “Now don't worry about anything, your mommy will be home soon. Good night.” “Good night” Tom responded drowsily as she turned off the light and closed the door behind her. Sometime during the night he came half awake. He smelled his mother's perfume and felt a kiss on his forehead. He drifted happily back to sleep. Chapter 16 “Good morning honey.” Tom looked up at his mother smiling at him “Good morning mom.” He yawned and without even thinking rolled over on his back while she lifted his covers and began pulling down his PJ bottoms. “Kirsten said you were a pleasure to babysit” she said while she undid his sodden nighttime diaper “So we can go the toy store on our way from from school if you want.” Tom smiled and rubbed his eyes. His teddy bear was still nestled under one arm even as he was changed “I guess I thought she was a pretty good babysitter too.” He said. She lifted his PJ top over his head “That's good to hear. Now go get in the shower and don't forget to try that soap.” In the shower he looked over the strange bottle once more. He'd been shown more than once how it was meant to be operated but he just couldn't get it right. His morning shower was his last true refuge of maturity and afterward he'd walk right back into his mother's arms to be diapered and dressed for the day. He sighed and sat the bottle back down, he did the best he could with the bar of soap and finished up. As he lied down on his bed his mother took a diaper from the bag and looked him over. “Still having a little trouble with that soap huh?” “Do I really have to use it? I just can't figure it out.” She slid the diaper underneath him and reached for the powder “Don't worry about it I'll just give you a little help tonight before bedtime” she said as she shook out some powder and taped his diaper in place. “Can't I just take an extra shower or something?” “It's just a little bath, it's no big deal” she paused and poked a finger to his chest taking a slightly sterner tone “Now don't give me any trouble or might have to rethink the toy store.” Tom quieted himself and stood up to be helped into his clothes. “That's better” she said adjusting the straps of his shortalls “I bet going to bed feeling all nice and clean will make you forget all about it. Now let's go get some breakfast and get you to school.” At preschool the sun shone brightly through the large windows, brightening the room's already cheerful hues. It was the first bit of sun in days and as Tom sat with his morning snack and watched cartoons his teachers were busy preparing the class for a trip to the playground. Ms. Kelly came by to give his diaper a quick check before declaring him ready to go out and moving on to the next student. Once all the students in need of a change had been tended to everybody was ushered outside to a playground sat in the corner of the yard surrounding the entire daycare complex. Tom hung back for a moment while his classmates mobbed the swings and slides. Tom found an empty swing and sat down. He let himself dangle while he watched the others, unable to bring himself to participate. Soon he felt a pair of hands at his back. He turned around to see a red headed boy smiling back at him. “I'll give you push” he said excitedly. Tom nearly laughed. He wasn't quite a giant here, but he was certain that such a small child wouldn't be able to budge him at all. A moment later he was arcing through the air. Another sturdy shove as he neared the ground sent him to even higher. His shock at the strength of his classmate soon gave way to the simple joy of being on a swing. He'd forgotten what it was like to feel the wind in his hair and the the short weightless drift as he hit the top of his swing. Finally he noticed something off on the other end of the playground and skidded to a stop. In his excitement he took off running. The merry-go-round had been a favorite of his and he wanted a chance to try this one out. He leaped onto it as slowed. He expected that one of the teachers might give it another shove but instead another boy hopped off and gave it a heave. Tom held tight as the merry-go-round lurched suddenly. One by one boys and girls hopped off to give the ride a forceful spin. Tom wondered if this was something else where he was barely keeping up with his new peers. With a ring of a bell Mrs. Peterson called the class into a disorderly line in front of the door to the classroom. As they marched inside a quick diaper check sent each child either to the changing tables or directly to the nap room. Mrs. Hansley pulled Tom over to tables. “Did you have fun outside” she asked as she sat him down. “Yeah” Tom admitted as he lay back“The swings were pretty fun.” “Looks like you got a little boo-boo” she said. Tom looked the small scrape on his elbow “I guess I got that on the merry-go-round. I didn't even notice.” “Don't worry” she said untaping his heavy diaper “the LumiGro will help that while you're taking your nap.” “LumiGro?” Tom said in bafflement. She fasten a fresh diaper to his hips “It doesn't just help you get big and strong, it helps your boo-boos too.” She smiled and handed him over to Ms. Kelly who led him to the nap room and helped him into his crib. Tom gazed at the soft blue light emanating from the corners of his crib. Now he knew what it was. Now he knew why he'd been the runt of his elementary school classes and why even his classmates here were so surprisingly strong. It dawned on him that he might belong here more than he'd realized. The lights went down as the teachers left the room and the familiar lullaby began to play. He snuggled the stuffed bunny that had taken up home in his crib and fell softly asleep. He awoke to the sound of his crib being unlatched and lowered. Mrs. Peterson hooked a finger into his diaper. “Wet again? We might have to start charging your mommy for extra diapers” she teased. He was ushered back to the changing table and sent to play with the other children. He sat and contented himself with some toys while he eagerly awaited going with his mother to get his own. When he saw her come through the door he could barely contain himself from bounding over to greet her. “Hi mom” he said cheerfully “Hey baby” she chuckled “Looks like somebody's excited about going to the toy store.” “Can go right away?” he asked “I don't know” she teased “were you a good boy today?” Mrs. Hansley laughed as she handed Karen the sign-out sheet “Tommy is a joy to have around. You should have seen him today in his crib with his stuffed bunny. Just adorable.” Tom blushed bright red “It's just really comfortable in there” His mother finished with the sign-out sheet and gave his hair a ruffle “Come on cuddle-bun, let's go get you some toys.” “Moooom” Tom groaned “Cuddle-bun?” “I'm sorry there tough guy” she said lightly tapping his chin with a playful fist “You still want to come with me for some toys?” He nodded excitedly and without waiting for it to be offered or even giving it a thought reached for her hand and walked with her to the car. As they walked into the toy store a bell attached to the door merrily announced their arrival. A kindly faced older man with a pair of bifocals perched on his nose looked up from the counter and smiled warmly at them. “Welcome to Children's Kingdom. Can you help you find something?” “My son is here to pick out some toys” Tom looked around him there was more to this place than toys. A large section to his left trailed off into a selection of more practical needs; furniture, clothes, and other sundry items. “Preschool toys are right over here” the man said motioning towards a circle of colorful shelves. Tom walked over and found himself surrounded by a colorful array of boxes and displays. Some toys he recognized from school, some were new. He looked over a few that had been taken out of their boxes and put on display while the adults talked behind him. He picked out the same robot he'd played with the night before and a toy race car kit like the one a school. On his way back to his mother he passed a crib just like the one he took his naps in at school. He paused stared at it. For a moment he considered asking for it. It was always so comfy and he wanted to be able to keep up with the other kids. He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder. “Find something else you want?” She asked. “No, just looking” Tom said pausing just a little too long to be believable. “It's OK if you'd rather sleep in a crib. I was thinking of getting you one but I wasn't sure you'd like it.” “Don't they have any regular beds with those light things” Tom asked the shopkeeper. He shook his head “Sorry son. The effect stops working after a while, so none of the big kid beds have them.” Tom looked back at is mother “OK, I like the one at school I guess.” She smiled “I think that's a good idea honey.” She turned to the shopkeeper “When can you have one delivered?” He quickly looked over a sheet of paper “Looks like we can fit you in tomorrow.” “Great. Sign us up, and he'll take these two toys too.” As they climbed back in the car Tom sat his new toys in his lap “Thanks mom.” “You're welcome honey. We can make this a weekly treat for being a good boy if you want.” Tom nodded excitedly “I'd like that. There's some other stuff I wanted too.” “Good, I'd like to get some extra sheets for your crib, just in case your night diaper doesn't hold out.” Tom blushed slightly “ Do you really think the crib is a good idea?” Karen nodded emphatically “Yes I do. You're going to have to sleep in one for a while if you want to be a big kid.” “I guess it will be alright for a while” Tom mused. As his mother pulled the car into traffic he wondered how long a while would be. At home he waited patiently through a diaper change before finally getting to open his new toys. He pulled a bag of robot parts from one box and unfolded a large sheet of directions. After a few attempts he managed to get the most basic first stages done on his own but he found the rest of the instructions trailed off into far more difficult territory. “Ask a grown-up or other big person for help” the instructions cheerfully suggested. “Mom?” Tom called hesitantly from his spot on the floor “Can you help me with this? Please.” She looked up from some papers she was working on and smiled “I guess I can take a break.” She sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder while she studied the directions. “This part goes with that part” she said pointing to some pieces laying on the carpet. She guided him through the rest of the process pausing several times to handle more complicated steps. Finally he snapped the final piece in place. “Alright, good job” his mother said giving him a gentle pat on the back. Tom happily turned his new robot over in his hands “You helped with most of the hard stuff” he thought for a moment and gave her a hug and a little kiss on the cheek “Thanks mom.” “Awwww” she cooed as she hugged him tightly and returned his kiss “You're welcome sweet boy.” She embraced him for a moment longer before giving him a pat on the bottom “I need to make dinner. Why don't you play with your new toys?” Tom picked his robot back up and spent the rest of his evening keenly absorbed in is new toys. He paused for dinner chatting happily with his mother about his day before breezing out again to living room for more playtime. After a while his mother tapped her watch. “It's getting close to your bedtime” she said with calm authority “Let's get you into the tub.” Tom looked up at her with pleading eyes “Can't I just keep doing that myself. Please.” “Once you learn to do it yourself you can, but I'm going to help you until then.” “But...” Tom started. “Don't you want to be a good boy like we talked about before?” Tom quietly took her hand and she led him upstairs to the bathroom. She started the tap before turning to get him undressed. “There we go” she said as she unfastened his diaper “just sit down in the tub and I'll get you all nice clean. You'll feel a lot better, you'll see.” Tom stepped into the tub and sat down. He watched as his mother took the bottle of soap that had given him so much trouble and deftly worked its mechanism to soap up the water. She squirted out some more on a washcloth and began washing him head to toe. Tom wasn't sure if it was the nice warm water, the pleasant calming smell of the soap, or just his mother's loving care but he was slowly able to just relax. She gave him a little tickle under his arm “I told you” she said and began to lather up his hair. Tom just closed his eyes and felt the soap and water wash over him. “There we go all nice and clean. Now just step out and I'll get you ready for bed” As Tom got out of the tub she wrapped him in a big fluffy towel. He peeked out at his mother from it's generous folds as she dried him thoroughly “Thanks mom. That feels a lot better. Sorry I tried to argue with you.” “You're welcome honey” she said as she finished up “And I know you're just trying to be big. You're still a very good boy. Now how about some PJs and a nice bedtime story?” “Bedtime story?” Tom asked. “Sure” his mother responded while she hung up his towel “Kirsten said you seemed to enjoy it. So unless you're just in a hurry to get to sleep...” “OK” Tom said with a amused smile “I guess it was pretty nice.” In his room Tom lay back on his bed while his mother gathered a fresh nighttime diaper and baby powder. As she began applying the powder he asked “What story are you going to read.” She smiled “Something special I think your going to like.” She slid the extra thick diaper beneath him and taped it snugly in place before helping him into his PJs. She tucked him in as he settled down in his bed with his teddy bear in his arms. “I just saw something today while I was getting lunch and it made me think of you” she said taking a large thin book wit h sturdy pages titled The Story of Gavin Giraffe. Tom blushed slightly “That book made you think of me?” She sat on the side of his bed “You said he was your favorite and I thought we might give it a try.” She open the book and began reading the story of how Gavin came to join the other characters and how, at first, he thought he was bigger than everybody else. Tom held his bear closer and found himself laughing at the voices his mother had chosen for the characters. In the end Gavin understood that he had a lot to learn from the others and they all became friends. She closed the book and stood up giving her son a kiss on the forehead “Good night sweety” she said softly. Tom sat up enough to give her a kiss on the cheek “Good night mom.” She turned off the light on the way out and closed the door quietly behind her. Tom closed his eyes and thought about his mother finding that book and thinking about him. He knew he had play his part to make this strange situation work out as well as possible for both of them. And it seemed more and more every day that it might be an easy part to fit into. He hugged his teddy bear to his chest and drifted off to sleep. Chapter 17 Tom fished out his last spoonful of cereal while his mother talked on the phone. “Thank you” she said “If I'd known this was a school holiday I'd have planned ahead.” She listened for a moment and laughed “I hope he's not much of a problem, he's usually very well behaved. I'll just need to get his diaper bag all packed and I'll drop him off.” Tom tried to look interested in the remains of his orange juice while these arrangements were made. Karen ended the call and sat at the table smiling. “That was Mrs. Burke, I think you know her son Johnny from when you were in Mrs. Taylor's class. She says she'll be able to watch you today.” Tom looked back at her. “Yeah I remember him.” He recalled a time, not long ago, that he would have protested such an arrangement. Now it would seem ridiculous. He obviously needed some kind of supervision. “I think that will be alright.” She smiled a smoothed his bangs “I think so too.” They arrived at the Burke's doorstep, Tom's freshly packed diaper back slung over his mother's shoulder. Tom let his arm hang loosely from her grip on his hand and looked at the large welcome mat while she rang the doorbell. Johnny's mother answered the door with an enthusiastic “Hey guys!” “Hi Marie, nice to meet you” Karen said as she shifted the diaper bag to her hand “This is Tommy.” “Hi Tommy” she said bending down to meet his face “Johnny is so excited to have you over today.” “Hi” Tom replied sheepishly as his mother handed his diaper bag over to Mrs. Burke. “This should be everything he needs, he only goes through a few diapers a day” She said “Thank you so much for taking him on such short notice.” “It's no trouble at all” She said offering a hand to to Tommy “It'll be fun to have a little guy around the house again.” At that Karen looked at Tom dressed in his preschool shortalls and smiled. She knelt down and gave him a hug “Be good for Mrs. Burke.” Tom hugged back “I will.” She let him go with a kiss on his forehead “Good bye sweety. I'll be back as soon as I can.” “Bye mom” Tom said as he took Mrs Burke's hand. Karen stepped towards the car as Mrs. Burke led him inside and closed the door “Wanna go see what Johnny's doing?” She led him to Johnny's room and rapped lightly on the already open door. “Johnny I have a little visitor for you.” Johnny looked up from a set of models he was working on “Hi Tommy!” He said enthusiastically “We're gonna have a lot of fun today I just know it.” Tom smiled warily. It was good see his friend again, but the circumstances were so different now. “You two have fun” She said cheerily “And let me know if you think you need anything” Tom noticed her nod in his direction and pointed look at Johnny. “I will Mom” Johnny said she walked away. Tom walked across the room to Johnny's desk. He glanced around at the various intricate looking models and shelves of inscrutable toys. “What are you doing?” he said in the most casual manner he could manage. “I'm just making a model of the Battle of Hastings” Johnny said with a small measure of pride “Of course no one really knows how the English side was set up but I put the front line all the way to the river just 'cause it looks cooler.” He looked at Tom who only nodded slowly but eyed the soldiers with excitement. “This guy over here is William II of Normandy” Johnny said gearing down his explanation “And this is Harold II.” “That looks really cool. But I don't know who those guys are.” Tom admitted. “That's OK” Johnny said setting down one of the models “Let's find something we can both do.” Johnny opened up his closet and began reaching into the back. “I haven't played with this for a while but it's lots of fun' He said as he as retrieved a box depicting several Kindergarten-aged kids playing with some sort of large crane. He sat the box down in the middle of the floor and opened it revealing a well-organized set of metal pieces and engine parts. “What do you want to make?” Tom looked everything over “I don't know. It looks kind of complicated.” Johnny smiled “It's OK I know what to do with the hard parts. How about a crane like the one on the box?” “Sure” Tom shrugged as he sat down beside his friend. Tom worked on the base while Johnny put together several motors as he tried to explain a few things about torque and armature. Tom just nodded and focused on linking his pieces together. Before long they came to the point where one of the motors was to be attached. Johnny handed him an unfinished motor and stepped him through adding some of the basic components. As his sketchy understanding grew he watched their creation become a working crane. He took the controls and, with a sense of accomplishment, began picking up and moving some toy cars Johnny had spread out. “Neat huh?” Johnny said “Yeah, this is cool” Tom replied. “Hey guys, I've got some snacks for you!” Mrs. Burke shouted from downstairs. Tom rushed down with Johnny and found two places set up in front of the TV. “I'm sorry Tommy” Mrs. Burke explained “I couldn't find any sippy cups but I found and old bottle. I know you're a little big for that but I hope it's OK.” Tom looked for a moment at the small plate of fresh cookies and the pale blue baby bottle beside it. “Oh” Tom said trying to register as little embarrassment with her well intentioned hospitality as possible “That's OK.” He sat cross legged on the floor while she turned the TV to some cartoon he hadn't seen before. Tentatively he tilted the bottle back and brought it to his lips. The liquid inside was delicious, like what he drank from his sippy cup at preschool but better. He began drinking in earnest until he felt his diaper being checked. “You're good for now” Mrs. Burke said patting his head “But not for long if you keep drinking like that.” Johnny came back from a quick trip to the bathroom and settled in beside Tom. “Oh I used to watch this show all the time” He said.. “What is it?” “The Triangle Trio” Johnny said taking his glass of milk “its about basic trigonometry.” Tom as cross legged and drank slowly from his bottle as he watched with growing interest. When he found himself laughing alone he looked over and saw Johnny wasn't paying attention. “We could try watching something you like” Tom offered to his friend. “This is OK” Johnny said batting away the suggestion “There's really just preschool stuff on right now anyway.” The closing theme of the show prompted Mrs. Burke's return to the room. She placed her hand on her knees and looked down happily at Tom “Now that we've had a snack I think it might be time for a nap” she knelt down next to him and checked his diaper “And some new pants too. Come on, we'll just let Johnny have some big kid time.” She took him by the hand and led him upstairs to a small guest room where a large comfy looking bed had been outfitted with a fold-out railing and a collection of stuffed animals. Tom's diaper bag had been been set on the dresser and she quickly retrieved his changing mat and fresh diaper from it. She laid the changing mat across the foot of the bed and turned to get more supplies. Tom knew exactly what was expected of him and he laid back on the mat without protest or complaint. “OK sweetheart just lie down and..” she said before she turned around and saw him lying there. “Such a good boy” she smiled. She quickly undid his shortalls and began removing his sodden diaper “Getting all this stuff out of storage made me think about how much I miss having a little guy to take care of around here” she said wistfully “Johnny's gotten so big he hardly needs me any more.” She got him cleaned, powder and into a dry diaper before pulling back the covers and allowing him to climb in. “Now just try to take a little nap” she said tucking him in “and we can go to the park after you get up.” She left him with another bottle, pressed a button on a small blue cube on the night stand, and quietly closed the door behind her. Tom held his bottle and looked curiously at the cube as a soft lullabye began to drift faintly from somewhere inside. He could still hear the sounds of Johnny downstairs watching some program for big kids and as the gentle music filled the room and sleep overcame him he wondered when he'd be big again. Mrs. Burke roused him by shaking his shoulder and he found his bottle pressed to his lips and half empty. In his other hand a plain brown stuffed bear was clutched loosely to his chest. “Looks like you made yourself nice and comfy” his babysitter observed. With scarcely another word he was changed out of his nap time diaper and brought down stairs where Johnny was already ready for a trip to the neighborhood park. Mrs. Burke, diaper bag slung over one shoulder, held Tom's hand all through the several blocks to the park while Johnny walked briskly ahead excitedly detailing all the things they could do at there. When they arrived she knelt down and place a hand on Tom's shoulder. “Just let me know if any of these big kid rides get too scary” she said indicating another smaller play ground at the bottom of the hill “There's another playground for preschool kids over there if you'd like.” Tom looked up at the odd playground equipment towering over his head. A set of swings seemed to have some sort of elaborate mechanical contraption at it's top. While down at the bottom of the hill was small arrangement of cheery looking plastic rides much like the ones he'd seen anywhere else. He watched as Johnny dashed off for the big kid equipment and considered his options. “I think this will be fine” he said. “OK hon, I”ll just be right over there on the bench.” She gave him a pat on the bottom. He joined Johnny at the swing set. “Sit down Tommy” Johnny said “This is one of my favorites.” Tom sat himself in one of the swings and watched as Johnny flipped two switches and rushed over to the neighboring swing. “Don't forget to hold on” Johnny cautioned as he sat down. From above Tom heard whirring sound and his swing began to sway back and forth. “Oh neat” Tom said “It's all automatic” a hard metal clink sounded and the swing thrust them both higher. Tom tightened his grip but smiled “I like this one” he said happily. “It gets a lot better than this” Johnny replied with a grin. Another clank and the swings flew still higher. Now Tom was being lifted out of of seat. He held tighter and watched the ground fly away from beneath him. He took a breath and told himself to hold it together. A whirring sound came from above and Tom wrapped his hands desperately around the chain as the swing began to spin. It spun faster and faster as he heard Johnny laughing with delight beside him. Finally he let out a small yelp. Somewhere in the whirl spinning around him he saw Mrs. Burke reach out for the switch. Slowly everything wound down until he could take a dizzy step off the swing. Mrs. Burke knelt down and placed steadying hands gently on his shoulders “Are you OK sweety?” “Yeah I'm fine” Tom said with evident embarrassment as he leaned against his caretaker for support. “Sorry Tommy” Johnny said “I thought you'd have fun.” “That's OK” Tom replied. As the world started to settle around him he became aware his diaper being checked. “Oh dear, you are absolutely soaked” Mrs. Burke rose to her feet and took his hand “Let's go get you changed and then maybe we can try out the other playground. Johnny might want some more big kid time.” As Tom was led down toward the diaper changing room he looked back at Johnny happily jumping back on the swing. Once inside he was hoisted onto the the nearest changing table. “I'm sorry about all that” she said as she retrieved supplies from the diaper bag and began undoing Tom's shortalls “The other playground looks like a lot more fun don't you think?” Tom nodded “It looks more like the one at my school. That one doesn't have spinning swings or anything like that.” Mrs. Burke slid a fresh diaper under his bottom and taped it into place “I think so too. Let's go give it a try.” She set him on his feet, took his hand, and led him out to the playground. She paused for a moment to assess its offerings. “Would you like to start with the sandbox?” “Sure” Tom said unenthusiastically, disinterested in the sandbox itself but eager to avoid being hurtled around by another automatic swing set. He sat at the edge of the sandbox and absentmindedly ran the sand through his fingers. He paused and looked at the sand curiously, something about it felt different. He took a small handful and squeezed it his hand. Surprised to find that it held its shape he knelt down in the sand to see what else it could do. He quickly learned that could easily mold it into almost any shape he wanted or break it apart again by rubbing it between his fingers. Without any thought to appearances he lost himself in constructing a grand sand castle with grand archways and towering parapets. His inexperience showed in the rough uneven walls and sometimes his structures collapsed but he carried on playing taking earnest pride in his childish looking structure. He was putting on some finishing touches when he heard footsteps behind him. He looked up to see his mother smiling at him. “Hey sweety, that's a great castle.” Tom stood up as she knelt down to hug him “Thanks” he said returning the hug “The sandboxes here are really fun.” “I can see you were enjoying yourself” she teased as she brushed sand from the seat of his shortalls. “You're covered in it. You'll definitely need a bath tonight.” She looked over to Mrs. Burke “Hi Marie, I hope he wasn't to much trouble.” Mrs. Burke gave Tom's cheek a pinch “He was a joy to watch.” she handed over his diaper bag “I'd be happy to look after him again if you need it.” Johnny bounded down the hill “Bye Tommy. I hope your mom let's you come over to play again soon. Maybe you'll even be ready for the big kid swings.” Tom glanced at the menacing swings at the top of the hill “Yeah maybe” “I think Tommy might prefer the sandbox for a little while” Mrs. Burke said. “Well thanks again.” Tom's mother said as she took his hand “Hope we'll see each other again soon. Bye guys” Tom looked contemplatively at the sandbox wondering how much longer he'd be playing in playgrounds like this one. He felt his mother give his hand a squeeze and looked to see her nod in the direction of Mrs. Burke and Johnny. “Oh yeah.” he quickly remembered himself “Bye Mrs. Burke. Bye Tommy.” Karen turned and began walking her son back home. “Just so you know, I stopped by the house earlier so they could deliver your new crib.” “Can't I sleep in my bed one more night?” Tom asked fearing he already knew the answer. His mother shook her head “Sorry sweety, they took it down to make room. You'll like it once you get used to it.” “I guess I can try.” Tom said sounding somewhat deflated. “That's my good boy” she replied mussing his hair slightly “Now let's go home and get some dinner.” Chapter 18 Tom stood in the his room looking over his new furniture. In the middle of the room was a large cherry-wood sleigh style crib neatly fitted with baby blue sheets patterned with nursery rhyme characters. His teddy bear was dutifully stationed in one corner. Beside the crib was a large rocking chair. To replace the convenient changing area his bed had offered, a changing table now stood against the far wall. “What do think?” his mother asked as she stocked it with diapers. “Do I really need to sleep in it with the rails up and everything?” “You do at school don't you?” “Yeah. But that's just for a little while. I mean those light things still work even when the rail is down right?” Tom pointed out hopefully. “Yes they do.” She replied as she stood up and approached her son “But your much safer with them up. It's a really big drop if you fall out.” “But I won't” he looked pleadingly into his mother's skeptical eyes. She began to shake her head and he took a new tact “What if I need you for something?” She knelt down and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder “Aww sweety, would you like it if I checked on you during the night.” He looked down. As much as he wanted to tell himself this was all just a gambit it was just as much of an admission. “I just what to be able to go to your room if something bad happens.” She lifted his chin and looked him in the eye. “You really are worried aren't you?” She relented “Well I suppose it's better than having you try to climb out.” She smiled “But I'm still going to start checking on you.” She pressed a finger playfully to his nose “And if I find you've rolled out you're getting locked up nice and tight.” She punctuated her teasing with a quick hug and light swat on his bottom. “Now how about some play time before dinner?” That night Tom sat in a tub filled with warm soapy water while his mother gave him his bedtime bath. She hummed softly as she scrubbed him. “Close your eyes so you don't get any soap in them honey.” He shut his eyes and listened closely to the tune as she lathered his hair, somehow it seemed familiar though he couldn't place it. “That sand just got everywhere” she observed as rinsed the soap from his head. “Sorry, I guess I didn't notice.” Tom said opening his eyes again. “Don't apologize” she said holding up a large fluffy towel “That's what I'm here for.” She wrapped him in the towel as he stepped out of the tub, dried him thoroughly, and led him back to his room. She let the towel fall to the ground as she lifted him onto his new changing table. She softly hummed the tune again as she powdered and prepared him for his nightime diaper. Tom searched his mind for anywhere he could have heard it. His extra thick diaper was fastened snuggly around him before he could find the memory. “There's something extra that came with your crib” his mother said retrieving something from the changing table. Tom watched as she held up a footed sleeper printed with little cartoon race cars. “They had a few to choose from” she smiled “and since you like playing with your toy car I picked this one. Would you like to try it on?” She looked at him hopefully. Tom blushed slightly at being the object of his mother's maternal thoughtfulness again. But deep inside it felt right. He smiled and nodded “Good choice mom.” She set him on the ground and helped him into his new PJs. “What do you think?” she said as she zipped up the back. Tom took a moment to feel the padding beneath his feet and soft warm fabric swaddling his body. “It's really comfortable.” “I knew you'd like it” she took a book from the dresser and sat in the rocking chair “How about a bedtime story?” holding her arms out invitingly. Tom smiled and climbed into her lap. It took him a moment to fit himself in comfortably but he found a cozy spot with his head resting on her shoulder and a view the pictures depicting Mortimer Mouse's Moon Mystery. “Mortimer Mouse was getting ready for his trip to the moon” she began as she gently rocked. “Somebody was stealing cheese from the cheese mines and only the world famous detective could find out who.” As she turned each page she held up the pictures for him and Tom listened closely to every word. As they reached the conclusion Mortimer was questioning a strange mouse the space patrol had found sneaking around the moon base. “'I'm a professional moon explorer” she read in a squeaky voice “and I've come here to climb the tallest mountain on the moon: Mons Hadley.'” “'This explorer a fraud and I can prove it.'” She read, giving Mortimer a slightly more distinguished voice “How did Mortimer know?” “I know that one.” Tom smiled “The tallest mountain on the moon is Mons Huygens.” “Let's see” she said as she turned to the last page and read “Mortimer knew that any moon explorer would know that Mons Huygens is tallest mountain on the moon.” She closed the book and smiled at him “Did you learn that at school?” Tom looked down bashfully “Yeah, they're got a Speak-n-Say that has a lot of stuff about astronomy on it.” “That's what you should be doing sweety” she said as she hugged him close and continued rocking “Just play and learn and don't forget that I'll always be here.” Tom just closed his eyes and let her rock him “I know mom.” “Still want the side of your crib down?” She asked. Tom nodded. “Alright, I'll be in to check on you in a bit.” She said as she stood up and set him down. “Thanks mom” Tom yawned. She turned back the sheets and helped him into his crib. “Good night sweety” she said with a kiss on his forehead. “Good night” Tom replied closing his eyes. Soon after she had clicked off the light and closed the door behind her Tom was fast asleep. Sometime during the night he was dimly aware being gently pushed from the edge of the crib being tucked back in. The next morning Tom was sitting on the floor at preschool building a railroad with some of his classmates. He vaguely remembered some of what he'd learned from building the crane with Johnny while he pieced the engine together. Finally he set it down on the completed track and watched with pride as his train chugged steadily around curves and up hills. He was absorbed he barely noticed when Ms. Kelly came by to check his diaper and round him up for story time. He found his place in front of Mrs. Peterson who sat patiently with a book in her lap while the children gathered around here. “Good morning everyone” she said sweetly once they were all assembled. “Good morning Mrs. Peterson” Tom replied in unison with the rest of the class. “Now before we start the story does anybody know what important day is coming up?” She asked. “Founder's day” answered most of the class. “That's right. And who knows what that means?” “It's the day when they started the town.” answered one boy. “That's right Josh” Mrs Peterson replied “And for Founder's Day all your mommies and daddies will come to class. So we're going to learn a new song we can all sing for them.” As his classmates clamored excitedly around him a sense of dread sunk into the pit of Tom's stomach. He'd grown to except so many things in this new life but singing a preschool song in front of an audience was yet another step back. He sat and contemplated a way out while Mrs. Peterson read the morning's story. After story time we was whisked away for a quick change into put down in his crib for naptime. He looked at the bars around him and thought of the one slim outpost of maturity he'd managed to maintain at home. He feared losing more it but as he took hold of his stuffed bunny and closed his eyes he thought about how the comforts of being a preschooler seemed so right. Later that afternoon he exchanged hugs with his mother as she picked up him up from class. “Your teacher says you guys are going to put on a show for us.” She said excitedly “I can't wait to see what you guys are planning.” Tom looked at her smile and abandoned any notion of getting out of it. He just couldn't disappoint her that way. “It's just going to be song.” He said. “Well I'm sure you'll do a great job.” She said taking him by the hand and leading him to the car. Later, before bed being put to bed, he was given his nightly bath and was a story as he cuddled in his mother's lap. During the night he woke up to his mother rolling him back from the edge of the crib. “Just go back to sleep” she whispered as she kissed him on the forehead and smoothed the sheets over him. In the morning Tom ate breakfast while he watched her get ready for the day. “It's a good thing I've been checking on you” she said “You can try sleeping with the side down a little while longer but I may have to find another arrangement OK?” Tom began to object but stopped short. He could see she was serious, and he knew she was right. “OK mom.” He answered. “Good boy” she said “Now let's get you to school.” As Tom sat in the car watching out the window he wondered what the other arrangement could possibly be. And the first of the new chapters Chapter 19 By late morning at preschool Tom had thoroughly engrossed himself in his favorite toys and he felt a twinge of disappointment as his teachers began herding the children together to begin practicing their Founder's Day song. He reluctantly trudged toward the piano where a smiling Mrs. Peterson greeted her students. “OK children” she said clapping her hands together “Today we're going to learn a new song for all our mommies and daddies. Is everybody ready?” Tom looked down at his feet and wished he was somewhere else while his classmates all voiced their enthusiastic ascent. Mrs. Peterson plucked out a few notes on they keyboard and began leading the class through the song. The other preschoolers followed along repeating the lines after her while Tom tried to stay unobtrusively in back, moving his lips but barely paying attention at all. He felt a tug on the strap of his shortalls as Mrs. Hansley pulled him aside to check his diaper. “You don't need a change, why are you so cranky today?” She asked him quietly. “I just don't want to do this song. Can't I do something else?” “Don't be shy.” She said placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder “Think of how proud your mommy will be when she sees you singing.” She turned him back around and knelt beside him. “Just sing along with me.” Tom, knowing he could no longer get away with faking it, finally paid attention to the words. “Concordia parvae res crescunt.” Mrs. Peterson sang. Tom gave Mrs. Hansley a puzzled look. “It's Latin” she explained. “Some of the words are kind of big, just follow along and do your best.” The phrase repeated several time and Tom tried his best to remember and pronounce the words. “Crescat scientia vita excolatur” continued Mrs. Peterson. Tom took a moment to wonder what the kids in higher grades were doing and be thankful this was all he had to face. He struggled on through the rest of the song taking some small comfort in the fact that his classmates had some difficulty as well. The class moved on to snack time and Tom pondered how he'd ever learn this song as he ate his milk and cookies. By the time his mother was taking him home he had a plan, he'd fake sick the day of the performance. He wouldn't embarrass himself stumbling over some preschool song in front of an audience. “So how did the rehearsal go?” She asked as she pulled out of the parking space. “OK I guess he said” he looked over at his mother, the woman who bathed him and changed his diapers, and abandoned his guardedness “Some of the words are really hard. I don't know if I can even remember them.” “You'll do great I'm sure, I'm just so proud of you.” Tom watched out the window for a few moments before turning back to her “Are you really proud of me?” She looked genuinely shocked at his question “Of course I do sweety. You're learning so much and adjusting to all this new stuff so well. I can't wait wait to see you show everybody else too.” “Thanks mom” Tom thought for a moment “I'll do my best for you.” She smiled at him at him and gave his hair a ruffle “I know you will.” His thoughts of faking sick began to melt away. He could almost see himself singing his heart out alongside his fellow preschoolers and making his mother proud. After dinner he sprawled himself out in front of some cartoons and played with his small but burgeoning collection of toys while his mother relaxed with a book. Even if she wasn't actively watching him, knowing she was close gave him a certain peace of mind. She noticed him looking back at her. “Do you need a change?” she asked raising an eyebrow. Tom shook his head “No, I don't think so.” She smirked skeptically and sat down to give him a check. “What do you know? All dry and clean. What were you glancing around for?” Tom laughed at his mother's teasing and shrugged his shoulders “Nothing.” She took one of the straps of his shortalls and rolled him onto his back. Grinning she placed a finger to his side.”Are you sure you don't want to tell me” “Mooom” Tom half-groaned half-laughed. She slid a hand under his shirt and reached under his arm giving him a light tickle. “I'm not really even ticklish anymore” Tom said even as he began to squirm a bit. “Oh really?” She said as she tickled faster. “Then this won't do anything at all” She laughed as she twitched her finger across his skin. Tom resisted momentarily before breaking into giggles and trying to roll away. “You seem pretty ticklish to me.” She said grinning as she withdrew her attack. “Maybe a little bit.” Tom said as he caught his breath. She checked his diaper again “More than just a little” she laughed “It's probably time to get you ready for bed anyway.” She got him out of his newly soaked diaper and into a nice warm tub. “I got something for your room” she said as she started scrubbing his back. “Really, what is it?” “You know how you were worried about putting the sides of your crib up?” “Yeah? “Well I got something that will let me know if you need me for anything.” “You mean a baby monitor?” “Well we can call it a kid monitor if you prefer, but yes. Now lift your arm for me honey” Tom complied and she gently soaped up his side “You don't mind do you?” “I guess not” Tom said resignedly. “Good boy” she said as she squirted a dollop of shampoo into he hand “I know you're probably disappointed about needing these things, but I just want to make sure you're safe. And it can't be that bad knowing I can keep an eye you can it?” Tom looked down, wondering for a moment if she could read his thoughts. She saw the bashful smile creeping across his face “I didn't think so. Now close your eyes.” She lathered his hair. “I need to get you in for a hair cut soon” she commented as she worked. Tom stepped out of the tub and into the warm thick towel his mother was holding. She dried him off and ushered him into his room. She gave him another pass over with the towel before lifting him onto the changing table. Tom was momentarily surprised by the increasing ease with which she was able to help him up. But his attention was soon diverted to the new device sitting on a table next to his crib. “It's got a camera too” She said as she retrieved a thick night-time diaper from the diaper stacker. She slid it under his freshly scrubbed bottom, taped it in place, and dressed him in his Pjs. “Now how about a bedtime story?” She sat in the rocking chair and motioned for him to sit in her lap. He settled in while she took a book from the table “There's one more thing” she said getting one of the bottles he'd had at Mrs. Burke's house from the table as well. “I heard you like these.” “Thank you” Tom said slightly embarrassed but thankful for the treat. She began to rock gently as she held the nursing boy in her arms and read from the colorful pages. Tom barely followed the story. He was tired and the rocking was already lulling him to sleep. She paused “Are you ready for bed sweety? We can finish this book later.” Tom just nodded and rubbed his eyes. Karen smiled “OK, up you go.” She rose from the rocking chair, helped him into his crib. Through the encroaching fuzziness of sleep Tom again noticed how easily she did this, his own effort was scarcely required. She pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and after making sure his teddy was within reach she handed him his still half-full bottle. “Now if you need me you can just call alright?” “OK mom.” Tom replied. “Good night.” She kissed him the forehead and raised the rails into place. “Good night mom” Tom said nestling himself into place. She turned off the lights on the way out the door and Tom was left gazing through half-closed eyes at the dimly glowing light from his baby monitor. He could remember a time it would have been an unbearable intrusion. Now he seemed adrift in and endless sea of babyhood and the idea of there even being a shore faded further away every day. Some part of him still wanted to be a big kid to the outside world, but here at home this felt right. He drank from his bottle while he contemplated these things and was disappointed when the sweet warm formula ran out. He let the empty bottle roll from his hand as he fell asleep. Some time in the middle of the night he came half awake and found a full bottle in its place. He smiled as he took it to his lips.

Hey there, readers! This is... kinda awkward, but it happened again. A new idea for a cute story popped into my head and, well... here's the beginning of a new story! I hope that you enjoy it! Back to Basics (Part 1) by Panther Cub "Alright, Ma'am, I'm gunna need you to pull over into the inspection lane." The tuxedo cat looked down at the jackrabbit lady, the sunlight reflecting off his aviator sunglasses, his mouth a hard frown as he pointed at the lane he had just instructed her to drive towards. She looked up at him from inside her small brown car, a look of confusion on her face. "Please don't start with me this early in the morning," the tuxedo cat mumbled under his breath as she opened her mouth to speak. "Is this some kind of a joke?" The jackrabbit lady didn't even try to keep the giggle from her voice. Tristan hated the fact that he could feel his black and white cheeks starting to blush. From where he sat perched on his special work stool, Tristan bit back a growl and simply frowned deeper, making sure to speak authoritatively. He could feel the snow white feathers on his wings starting to fluff up a bit. "Ma'am, you need to pull over into the inspection lane right now. I won't ask a third time." His paw was already settled onto his radio. "Are you playing inspection officer, cutiepie?" She cooed up at him. The cat felt his blush deepen and his tail began to swish faster in his aggravation. The fact that he could hear a faint crinkling as it did so didn't help. "Charlie 54 Delta, code 11." The jackrabbit looked away from the kitten sitting in what was very clearly a highchair painted black to match his cute little uniform, to see several officers dressed similarly approaching. A large brown and white spotted female owl took up position in the booth right next to Tristan and looked the driver dead in the eyes with a hardness to her own steely gray ones. "Driver! Pull into the designated inspection lane now. This is your final warning!" Lieutenant Haelga was not one to mess around, and the jackrabbit lady immediately knew it. "Wait... am I in trouble?" "He, like every other inspection officer here, radios in a Code 11 when a driver is not complying and driving into the inspection lane after being instructed to do so. Failure to comply can lead to detainment in addition to the inspection of your vehicle as well as count as resisting arrest if you continue to fail to comply." "Now wait just one second... you mean that that... baby is actually working here?! That can't be legal!" Tristan rolled his eyes at that, feeling some satisfaction as the lady was then asked to step out of the vehicle by Officer Skyson. While a bit on the portly side, the vulture was still very intimidating when he wanted to be, like when the jackrabbit lady started to object to her being detained, until he gave her his patented glare. Another officer climbed into the car and drove it away from the booth and into the inspection lane. "Y'know, Tristan," Haelga said with a smirk as she looked down at the kitten, "it really impresses me how much you're able to not lose your cool when these drivers pull this crap." Tristan smiled, feeling his blush fade a bit as he sat up a little straighter in his work stool that was totally not a high chair at some point. "Thanks, boss!" "And remember to call in if you need a quick change." His ears splayed flat at that while his blush returned in full force. "Understood, Lieutenant..." "Oh! And one more thing!" Haelga turned just as she was about to shimmy out of the booth, smiling down at her protege. "Yeah?" "I'm putting you in charge of helping to train the new gal when she starts next week." Tristan had sat in on the interview and gotten to ask a few questions. The new hire's name was Mia, and she was also a tuxedo cat, though she didn't have wings like he did. Also, she wasn't trapped in the body of a two-year-old. Well, to be fair it was more like the body of a one and three-quarter-year-old, but Tristan preferred to round up. He liked how she had been professional and not immediately fawned over him the moment she saw him, like so many applicants had already. That or just ignored him and his questions. He suspected that that was partly why he was selected to help with the interview process, to help weed out some of the less-professional ones. Overall, Mia's qualifications were just fine and she answered all of their questions professionally and succinctly. If he recalled correctly, she was twenty-eight, nine years younger than himself. "I won't let you down, Boss!" He said, resuming his duties as another car pulled in next to his booth. "Good morning sir." "... Is this some kind of a joke?" Tristan sighed and looked at the alpaca in the business suit just staring right at him with a slack-jawed expression. "Sir... I'm gunna need you to pull into the inspection lane up on the right here." * * * Tristan sighed as he watched the forested landscape pass by. Seeing the ever burbling creek going under the little bridge the car quickly passed over always made the kitten smile. But today he just wasn't feeling it. It wasn't a long drive home from work, but when you have to carpool because legally you can't drive anymore... and you have to sit in the back in a car seat, it can make the trip feel like it takes a bit longer than it should. "You line up a ride for next week?" Frank asked from the driver's seat. The gruff old bull looked at the winged kitten in the rearview mirror. "Yeah. I'll be carpooling with the new hire. She already agreed to it, and said that since she lives close by to where I live, it won't be an inconvenience to her." "Good..." Despite sharing a ride to and from work with one another for the last six months, Tristan still found talking with his older coworker to be very awkward. "Yeah... so this is really it then?" Tristan asked as they passed by into the town outskirts, a few houses dotting the now grassy and hilly landscape the forest gave way to. "Yup. Been looking forward to retirement for awhile now." Frank cracked a smile as he came to an intersection and took a left, driving past the bar and grill. The local grocery store flew past next, followed by the elementary school shortly after. Seeing the old school brought back some fond memories to the kitten. A few more turns later, and Frank was pulled up right in front of Tristan's house. It was a simple ranch-style layout. He winced as he took note, yet again, of how badly the old white house was in desperate need of a new paint job. The black and white kitten had to wait for the bull to get out and come around to the backseat door Tristan was looking out of. Opening said door and using his hoof fingers, Frank pressed the big red button in the center of the five point safety harness that was keeping Tristan safe and sound in his carseat. The diminutive feline hopped down and grabbed the bright blue and red child's backpack he used to carry around his lunch and other stuff for work inside, watching as the bull grunted and snorted in frustration, trying to get the carseat all disconnected from how it had been installed. Finally, it came free, and Frank carried it over to the front door, setting it down. He walked back to the car and shut the backseat door, ruffling Tristan's headfur as he did so. "It's been fun, kiddo. Good night." Tristan frowned and batted away at the hoof, giving Frank a sour look. "I'm not a kid... but thank you Frank for the help. Good night, and... goodbye, I guess." Frank smiled and got back inside his bright white car, driving off. The late afternoon light reflecting in the rearview mirror. Tristan walked towards the house, looking left and right, hoping none of his nosy neighbors would bug him today. He knew that they meant well, like old Mrs. Dorrington. "Last thing I need is for someone to call CPS over here again," he muttered under his breath as he fished out his keys from his pocket. He had to reach up a little to get the deadbolt, but after that and the doorknob, and a bit of a shove, he was inside. "Home sweet home." Tristan sighed as he grabbed his carseat and dragged it through the door, which he then shut and locked. Glad that it was the weekend, he undid his tie and unbuttoned his uniform shirt. They were casually tossed aside, along with his pants. Walking by the full-length hallway mirror, he saw a little black and white kitten with stark white wings, wearing a swollen white diaper with green trim. It was after he saw his reflection that Tristan realized he was waddling more. He let out another sigh as his waddling continued on into the bathroom. He looked at the pack of Snuggies and saw he was already halfway through it. He made a mental note to walk on down to the grocery store in the next couple of days to restock. Looking at the other changing supplies and the changing mat laid out on the tile, he briefly reflected on how, thanks to his new height, he had to move everything to a reachable surface, or even just put things on the ground. The exception to this would be his stool in the kitchen. Stripping off his used diaper and balling it up to toss into the awaiting trash pail, Tristan opened his shower door and stepped inside. Dinner that night was a can of Pasta-O's, heated up in the microwave, with a box of juice on the side. As Tristan parked his padded bottom, that may or may not have required some additional adjusting of the tapes in the mirror in the hallway after he had powdered and diapered himself once he had dried himself off; in the old armchair, having to climb up onto it, he carefully pulled the nearby tv tray closer. He tucked a paper towel into his shirt, and scooped out a spoonful. Grimacing at the bland tomato soupy flavor and the chewy and mushy pasta, he reflected on how good a steak, done at medium rare, or some burger patties cooked on his grill tasted. He then frowned and huffed, that having been the first reason a neighbor called CPS after his transformation. Sighing, he started flipping through channels, stopping on some kind of documentary about the new wave popularity of that old boy band Small to Big, rebranded after they got a similar change to Tristan. He let out a growl and quickly changed the channel. "Stupid Regressus Inc. and they're stupid rejuvenation formula... and stupid me for taking that crap." His ears splayed flat on his head as he remembered how excited he'd been when he'd found out that there was an actual legit drug out there that could reverse the aging process. Doing some research, he learned that people could pick their ideal ages and then age regularly again. Tristan had spent almost all of his twenties, his physical prime, taking care of his sick parents. He spotted a picture from back when he was around this age the first time, coincidentally wearing the exact same shirt he was now, being held by his Mom and Dad. She had been a tuxedo cat like himself. His father, being a bald eagle, was where he'd gotten his wings from. Though he suspected it was Mom's fur coloration that caused them to be white. He smiled at the happy family in the photo, trying not to think about how first his father had been the one to get the Big C... and then his mother. They had both insisted that he finish school and get his degree, which he thankfully did. But after graduation, the roles had reversed, and he had started taking care of them. The few friends he had made in college all lived out of town, and he slowly lost touch with them... including Caroline. The sweet tigress had gotten her degree in marine biology and couldn't wait to get out on the ocean. They'd... no, he wasn't going to think about that, and he certainly wasn't going to cry about it. They had made their choices, and even though it had taken a decade when all was said and done, and left him practically penniless, at least before he managed to get a job at the checkpoint. But still, could he really be blamed for wanting to just reclaim that section of his life back? To get to actually be in his twenties? Looking down at the Snuggies with the happy diapered chibi baby lion smiling up at him, he felt that apparently some aspect of fate felt so. As it turned out, there was a small percentage of the population, about 7% overall, who were allergic to the Rejuvenation formula. Rather than get tested, Tristan figured the odds were in his favor. And for a month, it had seemed like they were. Minutes after taking the formula, which turned out to be a spray you inhaled, he had felt a tingling sensation spread out from his face to all over his body. After a few minutes, his clothes felt a little looser, and looking in the mirror, he saw a face he hadn't seen in too long. He'd tried going out to some clubs in the city, which had been... ok, at least in his book. He'd gone down to the coast to try wind-surfing, which had been pretty fun, but wasn't really his thing. He'd tried taking up a bunch of different hobbies, ranging from woodworking to beekeeping, but, aside from a slight pain in his back now being gone, he more or less felt the same. Still, though, he was younger and now had more time to think about what he wanted to do with his life. Then came the morning he'd woken up after having a terrible dream. It was something about being in a neverending daycare, but it was all dusty and covered in cobwebs and empty. The more he'd walked through it, the more he felt a tingling in his whole body, just like when he took the formula. When he awoke, he learned two things. The first, was that he'd shrunk to the size of a toddler, which was right around when he tried getting out of bed and fell on the floor. He bumped his head in doing so, and couldn't stop crying for a good few minutes. The second thing he had learned shortly after was that he seemed to have lost his potty training. That made him bawl outright. It had taken some time, some doctor visits, some proving he knew who he was, knew what year it was, and that he was still mentally an adult, and some thinking on his superiors' superiors part before he'd been allowed to continue working. It was after the first couple of months after his change, when he noticed something odd when he would measure himself with an old yardstick he had found. Not only was he not gaining any new height, he seemed to be shrinking still. Terrified that this meant he'd be transformed into a newborn or something, he had gone to his doctor. After another round of tests, it was determined that while Tristan was shrinking, that was simply because the formula was only finally almost finished. Physically, he'd been hoping to be around the age of three. Instead, his doctor placed him as being just under two. Tristan finished off his Pasta-O's and drank his juice, grape, his favorite, and continued watching TV until he started getting sleepy. He huffed when he saw that it was only 7:37, but knew that his much smaller body would just be getting more tired. He switched off the tv, grabbed his bowl and juice box, and hopped down to the floor. Walking into his kitchen, he used the stool to put the dishes in the sink and run a little water in them. He put his juice box and paper towel into the trash, huffing in frustration when he saw that there were some red splotches on it. Feeling around his mouth and chin confirmed that he'd dribble... again, and so wet another paper towl to clean around his mouth and chin. He then brushed his teeth, checked to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, checked his diaper to find it only a little damp, and then made his way into his bedroom. There, his mattress lay right on the floor, sheets and blankets strewn about on it. Falling out and bumping his head had become a bit of a problem, and this had been his solution. Climbing in, he curled up under the blankets, remembering how his Dad had loved to read him stories when he was this little for bedtime, and how Mom always tucked him in. He let out a little whimper as he listened to his silent and empty house, and started to drift off to sleep. The next day... "Let's see... I'm feeling like... OH! Your Mom's orange chicken recipe!" Mia purred while pushing the cart through the aisles while talking on her phone. The panthress would stop and grab something off the bright yellow list her wife had written. She rounded the corner, and stopped. She spotted a cute little kitten with dark black fur like her own, with a splash of white on his muzzle and chin that matched the color of his wings. He was wearing a pair of denim shortalls over a red shirt. She wondered where his parents were, looking around to spot who might be accompanying the little boy. Then she saw him start climbing the shelves, clearly going for the Cocoa Bombs at the top. "Woah there!" She said, walking up and plucking him off the shelves, turning him around to face her. "That was too dangerous, little guy! You could have fallen and gotten hurt." She said this in a gentle yet firm voice, seeing his ears droop and a blush form on his cheeks. "Mia?" He squeaked out in embarrassment. It was right then that the panthress realized where she recognized this specific kitten from and set him right down. "M-Mr. Granna?" Now it was Mia's turn to blush, practically matching his own, despite her dark fur. "I am so sorry! I didn't know that it was you!" Tristan held up a paw. "It's alright, it was an honest mistake. And please, call me Tristan." Internally he cringed at how her light scolding had made him feel ashamed for what he'd been caught doing. "And... maybe it was a bit... ill advised of me to try and scale the shelves there. I guess I could have gotten an employee to help me get down the Cocoa Bombs." Mia had to choke back a coo at how adorable Tristan was when she first met him in the interview. She had heard of some people having an allergic reaction to the Rejuvenation formula, and thankfully his condition had been explained right before she had entered the room the interview was conducted in, but still. He was a little kitten with wings. She just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him nonstop right then and there! And now, here he was, looking guilty and chastened and just served to enhance his natural adorableness. "Well, since I'm already right here," Mia said, easily grabbing the box of cereal with the chocolate bat advertising the chocolate balls filled with marshmallow goodness. She handed it to him and her heart practically melted at the look of excitement on his face as he took it from her, practically hugging the box before he set it in a nearby shopping basket. Looking inside, she could see several cans of Pasta-O's, some packages of juice boxes,a jar of extra chunky peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. Thanking her for her help, Tristan started to push the basket down the aisle, leading Mia to suspect that he couldn't carry it. "Wait, Tristan!" She walked over to him, smiling as he looked up at her with those big blue eyes of his. She reigned herself back in, remembering that he had the mind of an adult, just in a toddler's body. "Yeah?" "That... looks like a lot for you to try and carry, and pushing it around seems like it'll take forever." "Okay? It's not like I've got much choice. I can't push a cart around." Tristan began to suspect what Mia was getting at. "How about I help? We can put your things on the left side of the cart, and I can grab anything else off the high shelves for you?" Mia was worried that maybe she'd overstepped. Tristan mulled it over for a bit. "Well... okay, I guess that could work... but I am NOT riding around in the baby seat!" He crossed his arms at that, trying to look stern. Mia again almost cooed at the kitten before her. "Deal!" She then bent down and grabbed his basket, gently putting his items on the left inside her own cart, and scooting a few things over to the right. Walking side by side, they continued shopping, with Mia getting looks at the items on Tristan's list. She couldn't help but notice that a lot of his food seemed to be meals already made or in cans. "Oh my goodness," an elderly female coyote said with a happy smile. "Your little one is just so sweet and well-behaved! You must be so proud!" Tristan had to fight the urge to correct this lady and inform her that he is indeed an adult, just one that was regressed, and most certainly not Mia's child. "Uh... thank you so much!" Mia was polite and blushed a little, looking down at Tristan and shooting him a pleading look. He just sighed and waved his paw dismissively. When the old lady was out of earshot did they resume speaking. "Sorry about that, Tristan." "It's okay... better than someone picking me up and carrying me to the manager to report a lost child... again..." "Do things like that happen often?" Tristan blushed. "Yeah... I mean, I know that they mean well, but it really stinks regardless." They rounded a corner, and Tristan's blush deepened. It was the baby care aisle. At first, Mia didn't get why he looked so embarrassed, until; it clicked for her just where in the store they were. "O-oh! We can just go around another aisle..." "Can't... I... kinda need to get some things here." Tristan kept his voice even as he walked past a row of bibs and a row of pacifiers. Mia followed behind, watching the kitten slow down in the diaper section. He looked through all the different packages before grabbing a big red Snuggies pack. His cheeks now almost crimson, he avoided looking at the larger feline, and set it on the little shelf under the cart. This was followed by a tub of wipes and a canister of baby powder. "Okay, I'm done here," he said, starting to walk off. Mia followed behind. just wanting to pick him up and hug him and let the downtrodden kitten know that everything was going to be okay. As they walked to the register area, Mia felt a need to cut through the sudden tension. "Y'know, I love cooking. Maybe Sally and I can have you over some time for a nice home cooked meal." "Uh... that sounds nice," Tristan said, trying to sound polite. They reach the checkout in silence, apart from another nice older lady, this one a mouse, again complimenting Mia for how well-behaved Tristan was. Mia started setting Tristan's items onto the belt first, followed by her own. Despite knowing better, Mia felt guilty about letting Tristan pay for his groceries. She smiled as the teenaged border collie smiled and handed him the bags, until he started to struggle, and then took the heavier things and set them back in Mia's cart. Tristan wanted to object, but elected not to, blushing in silence instead. With Mia's items paid for and bagged, the two exited the store. "Did you get a ride over here?" Mia asked, looking at Tristan expectantly. "Oh... uh... no. Fuber doesn't have many drivers out here, and only one of them has a carseat." Tristan began to rub the back of his head, something Mia was beginning to guess was a tell for when he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Wait... you walked all the way here?" Mia asked, suddenly terrified at the thought of the little kitten all by himself, where anything could happen. "How are you gunna carry all your groceries home?" "I brought something to help." Tristan pointed over to one of the decorative trees in front of the store. There, secured with a bike chain, was a little red wagon with a handle. "Tristan, please can I just drive you and your groceries home? It'll be much faster." Mia offered, hoping he would say yes. "That's real nice, Mia... but the law says that I have to ride in a car seat, and we haven't installed mine yet..." The panthress perked up at that. "Oh! But I have one installed already! Me and Sally watch our niece all the time!" The panthress' smile was so bright that Tristan couldn't bring himself to say something that might make it fade. "Uh... w-well, I guess if it isn't an inconvenience..." "Great!" Mia waited for Tristan to unlock and grab his wagon before the two walked in the direction of a powder blue minivan. Unlocking it, Mia slid the door open to reveal a bright pink car seat that Tristan rolled his eyes at. "She loves that unicorn princess cartoon!" Mia chuckled. She smiled as she picked Tristan up under his arms and gently set him in the soft cushiony seat. She hummed while securing the five point harness and gave a test tug, making sure that Tristan was nice and secure. This was followed by Mia going to the trunk and loading up the groceries and Tristan's little wagon before putting the cart in the cart corral, and then getting into the driver's seat. "Okay, Tristan, ready to give me directions?" Mia's voice took on a slightly cutesy tone that Tristan chose to ignore. "Yup." With the engine fired up and Mia pulling out, Tristan started directing her to his home. Mia looked at the ranch-style house and frowned a little. She saw that the paint was peeling and cracked, and the front yard's lawn looked very shaggy. Helping Tristan out and grabbing his groceries and wagon, she followed the kitten up to the front door, which he had to shove after unlocking it. The first thing she noticed after being invited inside was how the light socket in the ceiling just inside the door was missing a bulb. She spotted his uniform clothes strewn on the floor, and could see some dust had started to build up on some surfaces. "Uhm... I know that the place is a little bit of a mess..." "Your house is lovely," Mia said with a cheerful smile. She grabbed some bags and walked down the hall, looking into the first open door on her right. She looked inside the bathroom and instantly spotted the changing mat and supplies on the floor. Her heart started to hurt at the realization that Tristan was truly living alone. "Do you... have any family?" "No..." Tristan didn't mean for it to sound curt, but he walked past Mia with some grocery bags in his paws. He headed towards the kitchen, and Mia spotted the open door to his bedroom, seeing the mattress on the floor. Mia helped Tristan to put away the groceries, letting him take his diapers into the bathroom himself. Sighing, Mia smiled at him when he came right back out. "You know, I'm planning on making some homemade orange chicken for me and Sally tonight..." She noticed how Tristan's ears perked up at that, but he frowned and shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got dinner planned for tonight..." "Maybe I could bring some over later?" Mia offered, looking down at him hopefully. Tristan felt conflicted, but the idea of orange chicken sounded so good. It had been so long. "Well... okay... if you really don't mind." "It'll be my pleasure!" Mia felt her heart warm knowing that the kitten she was looking at wasn't going to be eating only Pasta-O's tonight. With a goodbye, and double-checking that he was okay by himself, Mia left, closing the door behind her. On her way to the car she immediately dialed up her wife. "Sally, hun? I just ran into my new coworker, the one who's gunna train me." "That nice older badger?" Sally's voice asked. "No, the little cutie!" "OH! The little kitten with the mind of an adult?" "Yes! The poor little guy lives all alone!" "Wait... no one's helping him take care of himself?!" Mia heard Sally let out an involuntary squawk. "Yeah! And he seems to mostly eat canned food! I promised him that I'd bring over some of our orange chicken tonight!" "Oh the poor little guy!" "I think he might need a little help..." And there it is folks, the first part of a new story! Let's see where it goes!

Well, I know I have some other works that I need to really get done, but this little idea popped into my head last night, and it wouldn't go away until I wrote a chapter for it. So, here's The Infant's Guide to Reaching Purgatory~ Some things to note before we get started: Firstly, the content warnings are very real. Pay attention to the tags before you jump in and read. If it's not for you, you are absolutely not obligated to read, and that's perfectly okay. Secondly, this is not meant as a religion-bashing story, and I will not make it one. I am not religious in the slightest myself (and some of the things that the characters say do not reflect my beliefs), but I respect all creeds. It's just that this story is set in hell, for the very most part. No, it's not a Hellaverse fic: just a babyfur story that happens to be set in a different sort of hell. Finally, it is a very short prologue, and I apologize for not being able to get back into the swing of things in my other stories. I just needed to write something down and post it. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Now, without further delay, let's get into this story: - Prologue - “What do you MEAN, ‘I’m going to Hell’?!” The female red wolf had all but screamed those words, lashing her tail to-and-fro, nude as the day she was born (to her utmost dismay as she continued to cover herself with her paws and tail as best as she could; the angels said that earthly clothes couldn’t be taken to the afterlife), standing on the clouds that made up the surface of whatever judgment chambers there were in Heaven. Fuck, even the walls and ceiling were covered in clouds. She was utterly incensed. How dare these fucking self-righteous hypocrites say she was damned?! What did they know about her life?! What did they know about her?! The swan-winged figure looked at her coldly. Gender and species were impossible to identify with the angel’s robes, the heavenly halo shining upon its masked face. “Violet Valencia Bailey,” the voice intoned, neither male nor female. “Please don’t make this as drawn out as it could be. You’ve been judged by your actions and sins, and-” “I WANNA KNOW WHY!” Violet snarled furiously. “Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. You know why. Your last actions literally spelled it out.” “Unless you think suicide is a sin all of a sudden?” the red wolf huffed, wishing she had something, anything, really, to cover her body. Even a towel would be nice… “I’d say brutally murdering your husband in cold blood gets-” “YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID TO ME, IF YOU’RE SO FUCKING ALL POWERFUL-” “Please do not interrupt me, and please do not curse. His actions were detestable. Yours are inexcusable, and you don’t even have the good grace to admit it.” “Bullshit! I did what any sane woman would’ve done to a fucking bastard like him!” “Please stop curs-” “Make me!” “Don’t - interrupt me - again.” “Make me! You’re not my parents!” “And thank the Lord Almighty I’m not. You’re acting like a petulant child.” “Fuck off, chickenwing! If you’re going to send me down to Hell anyway, when I don’t deserve it, you’re goddamned right I’m gonna chew your ass out!” The masked figure sighed and pulled out an odd circular object that Violet assumed was a phone of some kind (and it sucked that she couldn’t bring her phone with her to the afterlife. Seriously, the afterlife could go screw itself, at this point.). “We have a Code Sunshine, repeat, Code Sunshine,” the figure said in a bored tone. The red wolf was suddenly confused. “Sunshine?” she asked. “It means you’re getting what you’ve rightfully earned,” the angelic figure said, and Violet could practically hear the smug smile on their face that she knew they were hiding behind their mask. “It’s been a while since this code was used. You might want to give us some entertainment.” “Entertainment? The fuck are you talking about?! You sick fucks like to watch animals get tortured, don’t you?!” “You’ll see what happens. I bet you last a week before you’re begging for Lucifer’s deepest, darkest pits. Or three days before she has you right where she wants you.” “Huh?” Violet felt herself sinking through the clouds, and she howled in distress - she hated heights, hated them, hated them, hated them - before her entire body slipped through, and she began to freefall through the air, her spirit plummeting to earth as she continued screaming in terror, flailing for any purchase where there was none, her soul dropping like a stone. She saw the ground fly up to meet her, and she held her paws out to protect her face, awaiting the crash. Only she didn’t crash; the second Violet’s spirit hit the ground, she began to sink through the inky black, like she was going into water in the night. Her arms and legs were forced up to her chin, tail curled around her waist, as if she was a fetus again, her body compacting from the pressure. “OH?” a masculine voice rang out, sounding very amused. “So, you managed to anger an Archangel enough for them to request a Code Sunshine. Can I have your name?” “Who the fuck are you?” Violet snapped, her voice sounding oddly tiny for a fully-grown she-wolf. “Are you some demon who’s gonna try to torture me, asshole?” “Well, I can certainly see why they requested it.” The voice was still amused. “Let me see…what is your crime…oh, right here, they texted it to me. Heaven can be so kind in those cases…” “Who the fuck are you?!” the red wolf repeated furiously. “Ahem, Violet Valencia Bailey the red wolf, you brutally murdered your husband, Dirk Arnold Stauss the Tapanuli orangutan, with a shotgun…multiple shots before he was finally killed-” “Shut up!” Violet snarled, baring her fangs, wishing for the millionth time that she wasn’t naked. The demon continued as if she had never spoken, “-then committed suicide after the murder-” “SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Violet screamed into the inky blackness, her voice as loud and forceful as a puppy’s. "-aborted his potential children without his knowledge in the past, refusing them a life when you had other options-" "GOD DAMN YOU, GO SUCK YOUR FUCKING DICK!" “And you had arguments with him as well,” the voice finished with a thunderous ending in his tone, far more powerful than hers. “Do you deny any of this?” The red wolf was shaking, her fur bristling with rage. “Does anyone realize why I did this?! Do you even fucking CARE, you unfair piece of shit?!" “Fairness in Hell? Do not make me scoff. He is damned as well; there is your 'fairness'. The difference between this man and you is that he did not act childishly when confronted with his wrongdoings. He freely admitted his sins, boasted that he was proud of them, despite knowing very well they were wrong; he is facing his eternal punishment as we speak. Deep down, I think you do know you were not in the right either. What is the saying, ‘two wrongs do not make a right?’” “Shut up! You don’t know shit about me!” The voice sighed. “I cannot continue this conversation with someone so immature. I will leave you to the Grand Duchess, Astaroth. May this be the last time we meet.” “What?” Violet felt a burning charge go through her soul, trillions upon trillions of times both hotter and colder than she had ever felt in her twenty-five years of life on earth, unable to even scream out her pain in response - and after the charge lanced through every part of her that remained, her conscious thoughts slipped into darkness. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Hope you enjoy this story I created back in 2023. At that time in my life I was going through a breakup and finding Mommies online. Lately I’ve been getting back into reading diaper stories and I wanted to share my own. Rereading it has been baffling with some mistakes I’ve found, but my battles with dyslexia is real since with my regular job has me staring at Excel spreadsheets all day. This 6 part story has been on Fet for a while I never really got any feedback I was hoping for besides couple of hearts. I’ve been contemplating picking the pen back up. Enjoy 😁 —————————————- Four contracts in one day. I was pooped. As I finish off my work week on Friday afternoon I begin to pack up my things to head home. The Wi-Fi in my apartment died the night before so I was forced to go into the office. Usually, we only are required to come into the office on Tuesdays and Wednesdays so the office was a ghost town on Friday. Since I knew that the office would be barren I thought now would be a good time to have some fun and go to the office in my favorite Tykable diaper. Before I left in the morning I even through a booster pad during my change since I knew I would use it to its max. Before I shutdown my laptop I wished Vanna (the girl from Marketing two floors above me) goodbye via our chat on Teams(internal company messaging). Before she could reply I closed my laptop and stuffed my notepads in my backpack. As I stand up the unmistakable sound of a badge scanning the door beeped and the door popped open. My eyes raced over to see who was there since nobody had scanned in all day. In came Vanna from Marketing and my heart jumped to my throat. Vanna was a self-made woman who took no shit from anyone. If you worked with her you would not find a more loyal and determined colleague, but if you were on the opposite side of that coin then she would either eviscerate you or roll right over you. She was 31 and never mentioned anything about relationships or social life. She was a mystery besides her loving cat that she had framed all around her office. Her passion has always been her work. Like everything in life there are two sides to every story, little did I know her determination at work was only a fraction of what truly made Vanna her wonderful self. Vanna was an absolute bombshell of a woman who looked like she inspired Victoria to start having secrets. She had an hour glass body frame that she never used to her advantage in her ruthless climb of the corporate ladder. I was easily head over heels for this woman but I couldn't find a way to express this to her. Now this Goddess was looking right at me and all I could think was, "How do I get out of this?" My heart raised as I shift in my chair resulting in crinkles for all to hear in the ghost town office space. As she walked through the door reality hit me hard and fast. There was nobody on my floor besides me and I'd been sitting in a soaking wet diaper that I could even smell while I was working. The combination of being alone and smelling like a wet toddler made my heart race as she came closer and closer. "Hey Frankie" Vanna sang out as she walked over to my cube. Luckily I had my do not disturb drawer pulled out that blocked others from entering my cube. This was done strategically earlier so no one could see me humping my chair making cummies in my diaper like a dirty baby. She noticed the block and made hand gesture like she was going to leave and catch up with me later. I sprung out of my chair like someone threw hot coals down my back to greet her and tell her to come by. She turned around and approached my cube while I came to terms with what I just did. "How are things on the smelly 2nd floor?" She said waving her hand back and forth as if she had smelt a soaked baby boy. "Ha, no change from the usual. Hey, I thought you worked from home on Fridays." She rolled her eyes," Ya I'm closing this giant deal and all my colleagues are too scared to make moves without me so they keep pestering me. I come in when it is quiet and I can get work done." Vanna looks me up and down, "Oh, is that a new shirt?" Confusion hit me like a ton of bricks because I rarely buy new clothing. What is she getting at? She was staring directly at my waste line so I began scanning my waistline wondering what she could be referring to. Then...I saw it. One of the wing tips from my diaper was poking out from my Hawaiian shirt that I was wearing specifically so this WOULD NOT happen. In an instant I felt all of my blood rush to my feet. I was frozen with embarrassment as I tried to muster a response. "AHHUH, ya it's new and I haven't taken the tag off," I said as I tried to shift around in my seat to make this "new tag" shift under my clothes. "Well it looks like the purchase has been finalized, lets get that tag off." Before I could react Vanna slithered past my useless pullout drawer that was supposed to keep others out and grabbed the wing of my diaper with pinpoint accuracy. She moved so fast that I had no time to react. When she pulled it and the "tag" didn't come off but instead got bigger, she let out an audible gasp. My face was now on fire as she began to put together what she just discovered. Here I am staring at the most sought-after woman in the company and she just realizing that I am in a diaper. "Is...Is that a DIAPER?!" She asked. My jaw literally hit the floor as I contemplated jumping up to running out the door. As I tried to form words all I could do was breathe heavier and heavier until it sounded like I was running half marathon. "And is that stale smell I'm sensing coming from...YOU?!" The sound of my heart pounding was all I could hear and it felt like I was on a wooden rollercoaster with my adrenaline going through the roof. "Are you wet? Are you peeing right now??" I braced my chair, "NO! I...we are so close to the bathroom." She cut me off, "You bring up a good point. You are close to the bathroom and yet here you are in a diaper." As she said "diaper" I could feel the blood start to pump in a very focused direction. My squishy wet diaper began to have solid formation that was poking towards the voluptuous figure in front of me. How could I be aroused in a time like this? As I shifted around to hide the tent currently being pitched in my pants the sounds of a crinkly diaper emerged. Vanna giggles, "OMG you crinkle!!" She said as her face lit up. She covered her face and pointed at me as she started to laugh. The excitement I felt from her pointing out my diaper suddenly went away in one heartbeat. It dawned on me that my chances with this incredible woman of my dreams were now shattered. "Why would any woman want to be with a 33-year-old stuck in diapers?" was the thought that was shooting across my mind. Vanna continued laughing as she turned her head to soak in what she was witnessing. A feeling of hopelessness came over me as she turned away to compose herself. My vision started to become blurry as tears began to overrun my eyes. As she turned back around my head started to sink into my chest as a low sob began to slip from my lips. "Ohhhh noo...Frankie!" she expelled as she started to move closer to me. I felt her hand gently rube across my arm and another caress my cheek. "I'm so sorry you poor little thing." The tone of her voice hit my ears which unlocked a feeling of comfort that is rarely felt outside of a loving mother/son relationship. This juxtaposition of feelings was so extreme that it caused me to lose focus for a second. Her hand continued down my cheek to the back of my neck which sent shivers down my spine. In a moment of euphoria I felt this genuine sense of vulnerability as I looked into Vanna's mystical eyes. It triggered a warm sense of love and security that I hadn't felt before in years. I never wanted this feeling to go away as I lost myself in this paradise. It was so intense that I could feel the warmth building inside until I noticed another warm spot but it coincided with giant wet spot on my pants. "OH MY GOODNESS FRANKIE!" I open my eyes and Vanna is right in front of me hands over her mouth as she looks at the very visible stain on my jeans. My vision became blurry again as the levey broke in my eye ducts. Vanna grabbed my chin and made me look into her eyes. "Do you want me to find a way to make things better for you?" My head began to bounce up and down as my noise began to bubble up in conjunction with my eyes cascading tears. Vanna took my hand and said, "Ok baby, you are going to follow me ok?" She grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my chair where she threw a jacket around my waist. "Everything is going to be ok you just need to follow me and do as I say ok?" I nod my head again and try to prepare for the unexpected.

Long long long time reader, first time posting my stuff. I have very short stories of little scenes here and there. Here is my newest one. The formatting won’t be the best. ———————— Captives Two woman and a man sat restrained to their chairs. Each with a gag in their mouth, muffled screams can be heard echoing in the tiny room in which they were captive. White walls all around, it was a boring room. 2 doors on either side of the captives adorned the walls. The one they were dragged into, and a mysterious door. Soft bells could be heard if you listened closely. Twisting and turning, each captive struggled to get free, muffled cries crafted a cacophony of struggle. Suddenly, the door that was not used before opened. The sounds stopped as the click clack of heels pierced the silence. A giantess of a woman stepped through the door and the captives froze. Never before had they seen such an entrancing figure. A tight black dress hugged her curvy body, her breasts voluptuous and firm, she walked in a way that let you know: she was in charge. The silence was broken by a maternal, yet teasing voice: “Hellooooooo little ones!” She smiles a devious smile. The captives were not ammused by the sing songy voice of their captor. “Looks like you have explored the wrong facility. We caught you on camera about a mile before you got to our gates” The blood rushed out of their faces. They didn‘t expect anything here. Rumors spoke of an old abandoned building in the forest that played soft lullaby music. They say those that go in never come out…. but they all assumed it was a childrens tale… until now. Each chair was on wheels, so one by one they were wheeled into the next room. The struggling stopped, replaced by fear of what would happen next. The next room looked like a preschool classroom. Rectangular with waist high shelves of coloring books, toys and stuffed animals. Along the back right half of the wall, there was a rectangular window with a door to the right of it. Above the door was a sign: INITIATION In the window was a table with a screen above it As if she felt the mood change to confusion, the Mistress explained: “This will be out first stop. Initiation. You see, this is a special facility. Meant to take you back to a simpler time.” She chuckles as she scans the three captives Blonde had heard enough. She didn’t want to be part of any sort of cult. She struggled harder against her restraints. “But i won’t bore you with the details. You..” she turns her full attention to Blonde as the struggle gets more intense. The other two started to struggle a little more. “Look like you are VERY excited to get started. Why don’t we start with you” Blonde shook her head in fear. She pushed against her restraints to no avail as she was wheeled into the initiation room. The door slammed shut, leaving the other two waiting. The room blonde found herself in looked much like a medical examining room, complete with the table. Before she could examine anything else her restraints let loose. She immediately tried to book it for the door, but was swiftly picked up by the armpits. “Ah ah ahhhh.. you can’t go that way little one! I know you miss your friends but you’ll see them soon enough.” The Mistress carried blonde over to the table and effortlessly retrained her to the table. Her clothes were fully removed. Naked and gagged, she was helpless to do anything. The Mistress then did something Blonde didn’t expect: She removed the gag. “YOU BITCH LET ME GO” she screamed The Mistress just ignored her and started to press some buttons on a panel. The screen lit up. “Please watch the entirety of the video while I prepare you” “Prepare me for what?!” The blonde screamed. The screen started to change colors, grabbing the attention of Blonde. The mistress said something but she couldn’t quite hear her. The colors changed from blue to green and to pink. Blonde couldn’t take her eyes away. Suddenly she felt her butt being lifted up. Something soft cushioned it as it came back down. It felt nice. Blondes thoughts were hazy. She tried to remember how she got here, but it was all dark and gray. Suddenly, her head started to hurt. She screamed in agony as her mind became a bright white light. She felt wetness coming from her crotch…:was she peeing herself? The wetness seemed to be contained around her crotch. Warmth. Her screamed echo’d as the colors changed faster, her eyes wide open. Pain, agony, fear. “AHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEAASSSSEEEE STOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHAAA……” The screaming stopped as something entered her mouth. “There there little one” the Mistress coo’d. “Go ahead and suck on your pacifier” The feeling was almost instant. Her brain went from white to shiny colors. Her screams died down into wails. That of a baby. [[pretty…. Colors…. Playtime!!]] Blonde started to giggle as her mind emptied. Everything started to empty. She squirmed and giggled as her diaper filled with the excrements of her old life. “Such a good girl!” The mistress adored. She patted the front of blondes diaper and removed the restraints. Blonde stayed there, giggling and babbling “AH! AH AH AH AH!” She babbled on, as the mistress gathered changing supplies. ———- The door to the initiation room slammed shut and the window suddenly became a mirror. Screams could be heard from the room shortly after but the two remaining captives couldn’t tell what they were about. A soft lullaby played over the speakers. The remaining two sat there, pacified by the music, unable to move or think. The door opens. The Mistress walks out, holding blonde against her bussoms. Walking toward the other side of the room, the mistress places Blonde on the ground with a soft thump and a crinkle. The two captives see Blonde, drooling with a paci, and fear runs down their spine. A muffled cry “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER” and slamming of feet. Blonde, naked except a diaper and a pacifier, rolled back onto her back and started playing with her feet. Tears streamed down Browns face. Her best friend. Her sister… transformed into a dumb drooling baby. “YOUR TURN!” The mistress exclaims from behind her. Her chair is jolted forward towards the room. She screams behind her gag, shaking her head. “No no no noooooooooo!!!!” On the table, easily restrained like the other, Brown finds herself ungagged. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?? I’m NOT A BABY!!” Mistress chuckles to herself as she presses a few buttons. The screen jumps to life and Browns attention is immediately drawn. “Please….” She whispers, drowsily… “I DON’T …” She screams in pain. Her brain goes white. The diaper is slipped under her with ease as a stream of urine spurts out. Browns struggles ease as the diaper is pulled between her legs and taped. “Noooooo…..” Brown started to whine. “Nooo die-peeeeeee” she started to wail as she kicked her legs. The mistress pulls out another pacifier and shoves it in browns mouth. [[huh?]] Was her last adult thought. Her brain starts to see the flashing colors in front of the screen. She started to calm down. “Gah gah gaaaahahhhhhhhhhh hehehehehe” Brown was lost. Her bowels and bladder emptied into her diaper, as well as her adulthood. “Such a good girl” the mistress said, grabbing the changing supplies —————- The door to the initiation room opened to giggles as Brown was carried out! “SEE! “ the mistress exclaimed with a chuckle,” that wasn’t so bad was it?” She plops Brown next to Blonde, who moved over to the dolls and was now brushing one. Brown crawls over and grabs her own doll. Silver was in shock. His two best friends sat before him, naked and in diapers, acting like nothing in the world was wrong. He had to escape…. He saw the mistress catch his eye and he growled. “Uh ohhhh” the mistress chuckled taking her gaze a little lower. Looks like someone had an accident. Confused, Silver looked down. His pants were soaked. [[wait… what… when did i?]] “Looks like SOMEONE really enjoyed his lullaby.” He blushed and started to whimper. Who was this lady? She walks over to him and kneels down to his level. “I have something special for you little one” she said, not breaking eye contact.” She undid his restraints. [[RUN]] his brain thought Only his body didn’t cooperate. The gag was then removed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to bite… but he couldn’t. No matter how hard he told his body to do something, it wouldn’t. “Good boy.” She said as she grabbed his hand. “What are you doing to meee” Silver asked, childishly. “You see, that lullaby you heard has some special properties” she started to explain as she placed a mat on the ground. She the knelt down and started undoing his belt. Silver whines but couldn’t do much else” “Noo stoooop” “Now now young man. You had an accident! We have to get you in proper attire if you are gonna be doing THAT!” She yanked down his pants and underwear in one fell swoop, emphasizing the word at the end of her sentence. His arms wanted to cover his crotch, but he found his hand instinctively move toward his face. His thumb found it’s way into his mouth. “I’m nottah bah bae” he mumbled behind his thumb. The mistress had him step out of his pants. A cold wipe was applied around his crotch and buttocks. “If you aren’t a baby…” the mistress lectured as she cleaned the man off “ then why didn’t you use the big boy potty when you were supposed to?” He knew the answer [[because you had me tied up you bitch]] he thought But his mouth just said “i dunnoooo” “That’s what i thought” the mistress said, pushing on his chest. Silver fell onto his back with a thud. His legs immediately sprawling out. He tried to get up, he fought with ever ounce of his being. But nothing happened. “So we are just gonna have to put you back in diapers!” Mistress exlaimed, causing the two regressed women to giggle. They crawled and mad their way to Silver, plopping down next to him. His face was flush with red heat as his entire legs were hoisted into the air, a thick baby blue diaper was slid under silver. His legs came down and kicked only slightly. “The mistress grabbed a white container and started to sprinkle powder on Silvers crotch.” It was around this point he started to hear the lullaby again, but he wasn’t sure id it was in his head or the speakers. Rubbing his crotch, silver let out a slight giggle. “Hehe that tickles, mommy!” He heard himself say, involuntarily. [[MOMMY? No… i gotta fight…]] The diaper was brought up between his legs and taped tightly into place. Silver was back in diapers. “Now, i have a special treat for you little one” she leaned silver up. He swayed groggily on his padded butt, his thumb falling from his mouth. Drool started to form at the corners. [[AHH COME ON MOVE GOD DAMIT]] he thought “Now, i know you appear to be all cute and obedient on the outside.” She said as she tugged on the front if her dress, pulling out one of her massive boobs. “But i know on the inside….”she taps his forehead “..:You need some adjusting” His mouth hicced a little as he saw her boob come out. [[Come on come on…. Get up GET UP]] He felt the drool fall down his chin, his eyes affixed on her breast. It was getting closer, although he wasn’t sure if he was being guided or moving on his own. He found himself cradled in her lap. “Now go ahead and take some of mommies milk” she said as she thrust her nipple into the drooly mouth. [[Nooooo… please no… not this…. ]] he thought as the pieces fell in place. She was gonna breastfeed him. involuntarily, silver latched. Milk immediately filled his mouth. His first thought was [[oh?]] It was tasty. He swallowed and it was like something in him grew. [[ oh man it’s so much… what’s happening to me?]] His thoughts started to fade. His memories were going grey. His stomach was filling with milk. [[…. No… i have to… ]]] he immediately thought about punching the woman in the face. For the first time in a while his arm moved on hismown accord, but stopped short when his hand grabbed the boob. [[ what was i doing?]] *Suck* *suck* *swallow* [[ i wanna go home.]] *suck* *suck* *swallow* [[oh god… i have to… NO!!!!!]] . The sound of his diaper being filled erupted in the room. He greedily started sucking more [[MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY KOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY]] Silver started to coo. His mind lost. All three adults now sat in the playroom, slowly filled up with the Mistresses milk, sending them into eternal regression. Never to be seen again.