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  1. This story is one of the sequels of the Happy Family. It is Johnny’s story after closing the Happy Family. Part 1: Johnny was sitting in his stroller and his adoptive mother Alice was driving the stroller. They were approaching their house. There was a letter in the post box and Alice read the sender: ‘The district court‘, She was a bit surprised; Alice didn’t pay too much attention to the local news and she enjoyed taking care of Johnny. He was a very good baby due to the fact he often was in his adult mode. Anyway at that moment he was not. Alice entered her house, put the letter onto the table and focused on the small boy. He was smiling at her as usually. Alice checked his diaper and put him onto the changing table. His diaper was soaked and Alice still was a little confused about the changes in his behavior. Nobody told her about the adult mode and Johnny himself couldn’t speak yet. When he was in adult mode he always notified Alice of his urge and she could put him onto the potty in time. He sometimes wished he could be without diapers in these periods. However the adult periods were not regular and Alice didn’t understand why he sometimes notified her and sometimes not: “Johnny, you are all wet,” she pretended being strict, but the small boy laughed at her. Of course, she wasn’t angry, cleaned him and carried him into his room. She put a lot of effort to building a home for her desired child and his nursery was beautiful with a comfortable crib, a small cabinet and many toys. The walls were painted in pastel colors and there were pictures hanging on them. Alice put Johnny on the floor and went back to the kitchen to open the letter. She opened it and a cold chill ran down her spine. Her idyll was over suddenly. The investigators had found her and her husband and they had to give Johnny back to his biological parents. Alice had to read the letter several times until she broke into tears and called Henry, her husband. He was still at work, but he promised her to come home immediately. Johnny didn’t understand what had happened, but he felt that it was something bad. He started crying as well and Alice ran to him and lifted him onto her arms: “My little boy, your mom has to give you away. It shouldn’t have happened.” Henry came half an hour later, read the letter and fear appeared in his eyes: “Oh my God! Hopefully we won’t be charged of kidnapping.” Alice startled; she didn’t think of this possibility. Later in the evening when Johnny was asleep already, Henry hugged his wife: “My dear Alice, what have we done? I don’t regret the money, but imagine the poor mother. We have to try to make up for our deed.” Alice nodded: “I hope his mother will understand us. Henry, I love Johnny and I don’t know what I do if he is away.” --- Johnny was scared when his mom was crying and he didn’t understand why. He was sad and couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. His sleep was restless as well. The next morning he awakened and realized he was in the adult mode. He tried to remember what had happened yesterday. However Alice didn’t read the letter aloud and he didn’t know about it exactly. Johnny could read, but the letter was far from his reach on the kitchen table. His bladder was quite full, but he didn’t want to disturb his mom after yesterday. There was no watch in his room, but it was early in the morning and she was probably asleep. Johnny reached down to his crotch and checked his diaper. It was thick and not very wet. He probably wet only once in the night. Although he often was in adult mode, he wet his diaper every time he was asleep and didn’t like it. Now he was wet and had to pee. The adult in baby body had to decide what to do. He checked his footed sleeper and found out he would be able to unbutton it, but the diaper was taped shut and it was a problem for his tiny fingers. Moreover he couldn’t get out of the crib without risk of an accident. Johnny had to choose between calling his mom and wetting the diaper for the second time.He stood up to call when the pressure in his bladder grew too much and a hot stream of pee soaked into the diaper. Johnny sighed and lied down. Alice woke up about half an hour later and came to check on Johnny. Tears were running down her cheeks when she was lifting him from the crib: “My little Johnny, your true mom has found you and we have to give you back.” This time Johnny realized what had happened yesterday; he smiled at Alice and stroked her cheek. He wished he could tell her some soothing words. Alice stared at him in an utter surprise: “Johnny, do you understand me?” He nodded and Alice almost dropped him. While she was cleaning him on the changing table, Alice asked Johnny: “You sometimes notified me of your urge to pee or poop. Will you do it now?” He nodded again and Alice didn’t put a diaper on him. However she was curious about how long his state lasted: “Johnny, how long can you notify me?” Johnny closed his eyes and pretended a sleep. Alice nodded. At the breakfast Johnny took a small spoon and fed himself easily; his bib was almost clean. He notified his mom of his urge to poop and Alice put him onto the potty in time. The small boy surprised her again when he took a children book and started reading. Suddenly the bell rang and a police officer along with a couple was standing on the porch: “Good morning. Mrs. Dotson; you probably know why we are here,” the officer started the talk: “Let me introduce Sean’s parents Mr. and Mrs. Swanson. Their son has been captured by the Happy Family and you bought him. His true name is Sean Swanson.” Alice almost collapsed and tears were running down her cheeks. Johnny/Sean crawled to her and hugged her legs. Mrs. Swanson caught Alice and turned to the officer: “Would you be so kind and wait outside until we get our Sean. I think your assistance isn’t necessary just now.” He nodded and went back to his car. Mrs. Swanson turned to Alice: “Can we go in and do everything in a friendly way?” Alice nodded and invited them to the living room. Sean was following them. Mrs. Swanson lifted him on her arms: “Sean, do you remember me? I’m your mom Helen and you have a sister Susan.” At that moment Sean recalled everything. The names of his mom and sister were enough to give him his memories back. He nodded and hugged his mom. All of sudden he realized he considered Alice his mom seconds before. Alice was a good and loving mom during the few days. He tried to speak: “M-m”, he pointed at Helen: “M-m” he pointed at Alice. Helen smiled at him: “Sean, can you have two moms?” and he nodded. His adult mind wanted to find an optimal solution. If his mom did an agreement with Alice, they wouldn’t hurt Alice that much. “Sean, do you really want we both be your moms?” The small boy nodded and smiled happily. Alice cried: “I … I … love him truly. I’m barren and we considered the Happy Family a legal institution. They promised us to perform everything necessary and provided us all documents. Sorry for being that naïve. I really didn’t want to steal a child from his parents. I’ll do everything and I give you all you need for the small Jo … Sean. Can I see him once a month at least?” They sat down at the table and Helen turned to her husband: “Adam, what do you think?” He nodded: “Helen, this lady seems to be sincere and Sean probably loves her too,” Sean smiled and nodded immediately. Helen realized Alice was really a desperate woman who couldn’t have her own children and did a mistake instead of a regular adoption. She loved Sean and Sean loved her: “Mrs. Dotson, I don’t mind if you come to see Sean whenever you want to. However I don’t know if I can ask you for a favor. Do you know anybody who can babysit Sean while we are at work?” Alice’s heart jumped: “Mrs. Swanson, I’m willing to do it personally and for free; it would be a pleasure for me to be with him every day. I gave up my job when we adopted Jo … Sean and my husband is a manager in a big company; so he is able to earn our living without problems.” Helen smiled: “It is a good idea for you as well. Let’s take Sean home now. Would you be so kind and give him some clothing?” “Of course, you can have everything,” Alice stood up and left for packing Sean’s clothing and toys. Sean poked Helen: “E -e,” he pointed at his crotch. Helen realized he wasn’t wearing any diaper and turned to Alice: “Is Sean potty-trained already?” “Not exactly. He seems to have periods when he understands me and he is just in this state.” Helen remembered the news articles about Happy Family experiment and the adult mode. Alice showed her the bathroom and Helen sat Sean on a potty. Half an hour later they were ready to leave and Alice gave them the car seat for Sean. Before leaving Helen turned to Sean: “Sweetheart, we have a longer way ahead. I should put a diaper on you.” Sean sighed, but he nodded; his bladder was small and he wasn’t able to hold his pee long; he also could fall asleep and get back to the toddler mode. Helen lifted him onto a couch and put a diaper on him again. Alice was standing in the doorframe and waving at Sean while Helen put him into the car seat and Adam sent the police officer away. He didn’t want to do any accusation against the poor woman.
  2. Hi everyone, it's me again, coming at you with a new Academy Works story. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should maybe start by reading Academy I (Part 1) or Academy B (Part 2). These stories aren't really linear, so you can skip those, but it might help you understand what's going on a little bit better. Anyway, this is Academy T. It kind of steps outside the precedents set by the first two stories, so I hope people realize that Academy Works is a lot more than just a series about a regression facility. ? Same as last time, if you want to support me there's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks for reading and leaving comments and stuff!! ~Mia~ --------------------- Academy TBy Mia Moore "The tower built for the sun and the tower built for the moon are in pursuit of different heavens." -The Source Chapter One Talita Campbell sat on her bed, staring blankly at the rails surrounding her. She was hungry. Her diaper was wet. She wanted to get out! But no matter how long she stared at the contraptions, she couldn't figure out how they worked. Every time Mommy lowered the bars, it seemed like magic. So Talita did the only thing she could to get her Mommy's attention: she cried. The LED on her bedside baby monitor glowed softly in the morning light; Mommy was listening. "And who’s a fussy baby this morning? The sun is barely awake and already you’re so eager to get up and go play, huh baby girl?" Play. With the others. That was how Talita spent a good deal of her mornings and afternoons. Playing in the playpen with neighborhood kids, or playing outside in the grass, or being taken to the park. Her Mommy had told her that it was good for her to play with the other kids, and that did make sense, although Talita knew she wasn’t a kid and neither were the others. Her thoughts were derailed - as they so easily were nowadays - by Mommy reaching down and slipping her finger between her onesie and her skin to check what she already knew was going to be a wet diaper. Talita always woke up wet. "Mommy…" Talita muttered as her Mommy took down the rails. She pressed a button, or kicked a lever, or something! But to Talita, it was magic all the same. She wiped her wet eyes and tried to close her legs, squishing the diaper between her thighs. She couldn't even remember the last time her knees touched. "Hm?" Talita's Mommy helped her off the bed. She waddled across the room to the changing table. "Can I please wear undies, just this once...? I promise I won't have any accidents, I promise..." Every day for almost a month, Talita had asked that question. It almost felt routine, as was her Mommy’s quick dismissal. But today was different. Instead of an outright no, Mommy paused to think about it. Talita's heart raced and she jumped in with renewed confidence. "One time! One time, and I swear! If I have any accidents, I pinky promise I'll never ask again!" "Oh, you pinky promise, do you? And you know what happens to little girls who break pinky promises, don’t you darling?" "...uh huh." Talita swallowed glumly. "And you want to make a pinky promise that if you have even a single accident today, you’ll never ask again?" "Maybe…um… maybe not a single accident..." "And maybe you can show Mommy how dry you can keep this diaper today, and then we’ll talk?" "Mo-mmeeee, I want to wear undies! Pretty pleeeeeaaaase?" The truth was, Talita wasn't sure she could keep up her end of the bargain. For well over a month, she had woken up in a wet diaper. Every day, it felt like a struggle to keep what little of her toilet training she had left. But if she truly was so helpless as to have an accident without even thinking, then maybe she didn't have the right to ask for underwear anyway. However, Talita had always been a risk taker. Sometimes things ended up bad and sometimes they didn’t, but Talita never regretted it. Life was more fun when she took her chances. Or, it was until she woke up in this place. "I can do it. Not any accidents." Though Talita's voice was full of confidence, her stomach was flipping with anxiety. Mommy helped her onto the changing table and looked her square in the eye. They were the same height when standing, down to the millimeter, but there was something diminutizing about sitting on the changing table that made Talita feel smaller. "Okay," Mommy said. "But if you fail, and you break your promise, then you'll be a Bad Girl for a month." Talita's eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. A month? But even if Talita had an accident, the least she could do was keep her promise. She could do that, for sure. "Otay..." The ‘undies’ in question were far from being the kind of panties an adult might wear. These were thick, cotton, stuffed with a lining of padding with prints of strawberries and unicorns on them - training pants by any assessment. To Talita, they were the most mature thing in the whole world, so much so that it distracted her from her dread as she watched her Mommy pull them out of the drawer. One day. Just one day. No accidents. She could do it. There was no way Talita was going to end up as a Bad Girl again! Mommy changed her diaper and wiped her clean. Talita wouldn't be wearing a diaper for the first time in months, but her Mommy powdered her all the same. Then, without ceremony, she slid the strawberry training pants up her legs and around her hips. Talita looked down at her knees and touched them together, a shiver of delight rushing up her spine. She was a big girl now! Everyone at school was going to be jealous! "Now it’s important you remember, Talita my darling girl, that you’re making a deal with Mommy." The woman held her finger up with all the earnest seriousness of... something serious. Talita couldn’t follow her own metaphor. So she linked pinkies with her Mommy, and just like that sealed the deal. "I’m so essited, I’m gonna be... gonna be so... so flippin’ cool, Mommy, you don’t even know!" "Well, let's get you dressed then. Daddy is making breakfast." Talita was all sunshine as her Mommy dressed her. She wore a short dress with frills underneath, flashing the seat of her training pants when she so much as bent over. Frilly ankle socks adorned her feet, along with a set of white ballet flats. Her long hair was tied in loose pigtails with plastic bauble elastics. Finally, a pacifier was clipped to her dress and pressed firmly between her lips. She was a picturesque toddler in the body of an adult, but Talita didn't even seem to notice, let alone mind. Talita walked with one foot in front of the other - something she couldn't do when waddling in a diaper - all the way to the kitchen, where Daddy was plating eggs and toast. Though she and her Mommy were the same height, Daddy was a bit taller with mussed hair and a clean beard. The couple couldn't have been more than ten years older than Talita, but they were her parents nonetheless. "Eggies!" Talita clapped her hands happily, then tried to reel in her enthusiasm. She wanted her Daddy to see just how cool and mature she was today. "That’s right, cupcake: eggs with toast." He flashed her a warm smile. "It’s not got seeds innit right, Daddy?" Talita screwed up her nose. "I dun’ like the toast with seeds innit." "Not a single seed as far as the eye can see, cupcake." Talita pursed her lips and looked skeptically, then nodded her head. "You took them all out, Daddy?" Explaining that white bread didn’t have seeds in it was going to be an exercise in futility, as it often was with Talita. She was beautiful, immature, darling, and very very dumb; so her Daddy just smiled and nodded. Breakfast in the Campbell household was all too ordinary. Talita ate bites of toast, spilling crumbs down her bib and into the little pocket at the bottom. Mommy told Daddy about Talita's promise and how she didn't need diapers anymore. Daddy got up early from the table to ready Talita's stroller for the trip to her school. Yes, breakfast in the Campbell house was all too ordinary, if Talita really had been a toddler and not a 29 year old woman. "Can I walk instead?" Talita asked as Daddy buckled her into the stroller. "I'm a big girl today, so it makes sense." "How about," Daddy said, snapping the last belt in place with a metallic click, "if you can get out of the stroller before we get there, you can walk the rest of the way." Talita's eyes lit up at the challenge and nodded her head, immediately getting to work on the buckles wrapped over her shoulders and around her waist. Ordinarily, perhaps a long time ago, Talita may have considered the best way to win this challenge. Like, for example, to wait until the last possible moment before getting out of the stroller so that she could have victory and get to show up to school walking on her own and not be so tired from the walk that she needed a nap as soon as she got there. Cool kids didn’t need a nap until at least lunchtime. Talita, though, was a very special variety of bimbaby. The kind of girl to whom such advanced machinations would never occur. In fact, they were only a few minutes from the house when she was so sure she’d managed to wriggle free already. "Daddy I did-" Her words were cut short by a frown and a gasp as the straps over her thighs and lap held fast. In all her excitement to work on the shoulder straps - which she could squirm out of and cheat her way to freedom - she’d completely forgotten to account for the others that held her firmly in place. "Did what, cupcake?" Her Daddy asked, slightly amused, as he pushed the stroller. "Nothing Daddy..." Efforts must be doubled!
  3. This is a sequel to "Fair is Fair" Marion Thompson didn’t believe in Maturosis. She didn’t think that Littles had some rare genetic defect that made it so that one day out of the blue they started acting like babies. That was just some fad pseudoscience meant to dress up a fact of life. Littles NEEDED to be diapered and disciplined and treated like the babies they were both for their own good and for the good of society as a whole. No one questioned why it was best to keep cats indoors with a litter box: If you didn’t they’d end up shitting everywhere, having kittens with no regard for the ecosystem, and murdering birds. It’s just what cats did. The same was true for Littles...except for maybe the bird murder part. The point is, it’s just what was done and needed to be done to keep everyone coexisting happily and healthily. If a cat resisted it’s treatment and cried and begged to be treated like something it wasn’t, vets didn’t invent a new term and talk about how their “Caturosis” hadn’t kicked in yet. Granted, it was more complex where Littles were concerned. There were enough genetic similarities between Amazons and them that they could breed with each other; a thoroughly disturbing idea but Tweeners had to originate from somewhere. The point being, Marion knew, was that some people just needed to be treated as their True Age instead of their Chronological Age and those people were overwhelmingly Littles. Marion had gotten her start in a daycare for Littles when she’d been a teenager. There she’d earned a living changing the diapers of and bottle feeding people who were a quarter her size and twice her age. The new ones were always so rebellious; so fussy; but that only proved that they needed to be treated like toddlers or less. Eventually, usually within a month or two of enrollment, she’d break them into happy Little babies, calling her Mrs. Thompson or Nanny. The right kind of rewards. The right kind of punishments. A few special cartoons just in case, and they’d be good Little boys and girls, babbling, filling their pants and generally being cute. But they never thanked her; usually because most of their True Ages were pre-talking. Mrs. Thompson wasn’t one to cosset, but there was still a decided emotional drain that came with having to deal with the same squalling brats who were completely ungrateful for the gifts they were being given. Even if you were good at taming feral cats, you could only get scratched by them so many times before you started resenting it; even if scratching and hissing is just what feral cats did. It’s why after decades of working in Little care, she’d left New Beginnings and moved out of Oakshire to start her own business. Setting up and running her own small business wasn’t that different than running a daycare. Like a daycare, so much of the hard work was in preparation, maintenance, and maintaining essential supplies. A few years ago, she’d been the heir apparent in terms of chain of command, and had taken all of those skills with her. What was better about running a coffeehouse is that she had the ability to kick troublesome customers out on their ass at the first sign of trouble. Not that she’d had many of those in the last few years. Coffee was just as commonplace as daycares, if not more so, and as long as it was a pleasant and positive experience for her customers and her prices reasonable, they kept coming back: Every morning before work, ordering minor bakery items through their lunch break or working on their never-to-be-published novels, and getting that last caffeine rush to go before an all nighter study session. If anything, her experience at managing tots that would never grow up helped her keep her employees in line: No shiftless layabouts playing on their phones every spare second. No old failures just waiting out the clock until retirement. The people who worked for her cared about their jobs and took pride in it. Motivating employees was just as easy as the tools she used to manage her former charges. Carrots, sticks, vague promises that needn’t come to fruition, rewards and competition; all the same stuff in principle. It was just a matter of making unpleasant employees work unpleasant hours until they straightened up and dangling minor raises and promotions instead of leaving them in messy diapers or promising addictive sweets. Different actions, same principle, identical effects. No. Marion Thompson didn’t cosset. She didn’t miss working in the daycare industry either. Her own small business was enough. And then Gwenny had pooped herself… The Amazon girl laid half in Marion’s lap on the floor, sucking on Marion’s tits. Marion felt the milk coming out of her and into the girl’s mouth. The pills she’d taken had done their job, and Gwenny was such an enthusiastic feeder, that Marion’s breasts produced more than enough milk to keep up with the demand. She probably didn’t need to take them anymore. Probably. Gwenny squirmed in quiet agony. She was completely naked save for the sopping wet diaper she’d worn since last night, and her hair was a brown and tangled bedhead mess. Mrs. Thompson had been completely clothed and her blonde hair perfectly coiffed before she’d entered Gwenny’s room. She looked around the makeshift nursery approvingly, as she unclasped the other cup of her nursing bra and switched Gwenny over to her other breast. Gwenny continued to moan, her hands itching at playing with herself. She’d needed welted knuckles and duct taped oven mitts to finally break the habit. No cumming with Mommy’s permission. It wasn’t quite a proper nursery, Marion knew. The crib was a modified hospital cot for the infirm and senile. The changing table was a second hand massage table. The diapers were FAR too big for a baby, and not nearly cute enough. But the bunny themed wall border was appropriate. The toy box and its contents were real. The air smelled wonderfully of baby powder with just a hint of ammonia and the sheets on the crib and changing table were tastefully pink. A couple packs of stickers from the dollar store would do the job of decorating her diapers, besides. Come to think of it, there might be some cute stencils that with a fabric marker might “Little up” the sheets. Gwenny would do it all of course. One of her chores. “For Mommy.” The poor, wonderful girl would do anything “for Mommy”. She’d debase herself. Humiliate herself. Be teased relentlessly by people who should be her immature inferiors. All Littles were babies. But not all babies were Littles. What was Gwenny? Gwenny was special. Speaking of special; time for Gwenny’s special treat. Leaning back a bit, Mrs. Thompson reached under Gwenny’s crib. “Does baby girl want her zoom zoom?” She dangled the massage wand over her charge’s head. Another carrot. Gwenny’s eyes leered up from her Mommy’s breasts, hungry for release. “Mmmhmm!” She knew better than to take the tit out of her mouth. Good girl. Very good girl. She adjusted Gwenny so the girl was more on her back. More comfortable. Gwenny deserved a little bit of comfort from this. But not too comfortable. “If you’re all done drinking milk before you finish,” Marion said. “I’m taking it away and you’ll have to wait till we get back home to try again.” The younger Amazon took the wand, switched it on and started grinding against the buzzing stick with all her might through the soggy padding. She didn’t close her eyes. She looked up lovingly, at her Mommy. Her Mommy looked back with equal adoration. Thirty seconds later, Gwenny stopped moaning and was gasping for breath, panting in ecstasy. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Mommy. Thank you so much…” That. That made this all the more special. Regular babies Gwenny’s age could do everything she’d just done. But they’d never thank her. Marion gave her girl a soft smile and guided her up into a sitting position. She patted her back just long enough to get a single burp out of her and then looked at the hoot owl clock on the nursery wall. Time to get moving. “Up we go, little girl.” She guided Gwenny to her feet. The diaper, now worn for about ten hours, wet, and mashed all to heck, hung from the Amazon girl’s hips like a garbage back. She led her over to the repurposed massage table. “Time to get you changed.” Gwenny boosted herself onto the padded mat and held her breath, waiting for the inevitable relief. Marion obliged her and quickly undid all four tapes. She’d have preferred to take her time, but they were in danger of being late. She’d have to start earlier tomorrow. Marion didn’t have a bathtub in her home, and she valued her own privacy from time to time, so she let the girl bathe herself, provided she submitted for inspection immediately after toweling off. The only time Gwenny wasn’t wearing a diaper was between changes and while bathing (as it should be). “Someone’s a very wet girl,” she cooed down at Gwenny. “Such a soggy bottom! But Mommy will take care of that.” Gwenny blushed, her light and likely embarrassed giggles muted slightly by her thumb. “Up we go,” she said. This was a game as well as a command. Her big baby obeyed and lifted her legs and hips. “Hmmm...no poopies,” Mrs. Thompson said, giving the girl’s backside a wipe. A second pass, and then the old diaper was balled up and gone; tossed into the lidded trash can beside the changing table. The new diaper quickly followed, and Gwenny tried to put her legs down. “Ah-ah-ah!” “Phorry Mommy,” Gwenny said. “That’s okay, baby,” her Mommy replied. She grabbed the tub of rash cream next to the stack of diapers and started spreading it thick and quick on Gwenny’s cheeks. Better a lot of cream than even a little rash. Some extra baby powder masked the scent well enough. “Okay, baby.” Gwenny lowered her hips and sighed as Marion She’d give Gwenny some of her own “special syrup” for lunch if she hadn’t gone number two by then. The liquid training chocolate, even in small doses, could potentially cause bowel incontinence in Littles. She’d used it plenty of time to trick stubborn Littles into liking their diapers and gave them the stuff even after their paper mache adulthood crumbled off their faces. It could very well have the same long term effects on Gwenny too, but the big baby girl probably wasn’t potty trained anymore anyways. A constipated baby was a fussy baby. Couldn’t have that. Like she’d been trained, Gwenny sat up after the diaper change and gave her Mommy a hug. “Thank you, Mommy.” “You’re welcome, Gwenny.” She gave her girl a kiss on the forehead. “Can I dress myself for wor...I mean chores?” Marion looked at the clock. Despite the intimacy, it’d be for the best in terms of efficiency. “You may, dear.” Gwenny waddled off to her closet and began dressing herself for the day. It was a shame, Marion mused, that they didn’t make true baby clothes in Amazon sizes. Gwenny’s padded tush would look absolutely gorgeous. So far she’d made do with tiny t-shirts and frilly nighties at home. Marion was still in the process of finding a tailor to hem some Lolita style dresses she’d found that covered too much of the diaper. Gwenny’s diaper was never completely uncovered, even at work. Gwenny came back out wearing a bra and t-shirt, and a denim skirt that made it so that the younger Amazon would have to be very careful about bending over...or not. “Is this okay, Mommy?” “That will do,” Marion replied. She quickly grabbed a thick brush and dragged it across Gwenny’s head. “Let me help with your hair.” Just like her mother had taught her, Marion quickly and efficiently got the tangles out in rapid and small strokes, patch by patch. “Get some diapers for your bag.” “Already packed my diaper bag, Mommy.” Gwenny was beaming. “Did it before you tucked me into my crib. A bit of genuine pride filled Mrs. Thompson’s breast. “Such a good girl. Now let’s hurry. We can’t keep Samantha waiting.” “Yes, Mommy.” ************************************************************************************* The lights to the shop were already on when Marion unlocked the door and stepped inside. Samantha’s head just barely cleared the countertop, but she waved nonetheless. “Good morning, Mrs. Thompson!” then she added slyly, “Hiii Gwenny.” “Good morning, Samantha.” Mrs. Thompsons replied, warmly enough. She shot a look at Gwenny. “Monin’ Samantha…” Gwenny blushed and looked away from the Tweener. A few months ago, Gwenny would have been attempting to intimidate her co-worker, combined with veiled threats of diapering or tiny jabs at how immature Samantha was. The changing tables had turned, however. “How are you, baby Gwenny?” Samantha asked. “Ready to work today?” “Mmhmmm…” Gwenny mumbled, still not quite used to taking orders from the shorter woman. “Speak up,” Gwenny said. “You know our customers don’t like it when you mumble. Use your words.” Approvingly, Mrs. Thompson watched a bit of extra blush creeped into Gwenny’s cheeks. “Yes, Samantha.” If it weren’t for her height, the girl might’ve made a spectacular Amazon. She was a far better adult than Gwenny, anyways. It stood to reason, though. If ALL Littles were babies and MOST Amazons were adults, then at least SOME Tweeners should have the maturity to make it in the world without a bigger wiser person needing to hold their hand every step of the way. In that regard Samantha was sort of special, too, Marion supposed. “Oh, Gwenny,” Samantha gushed. “You sure do look pretty today, young lady.” “Thank y-” Gwenny was interrupted with an audible sniff? “But are you soggy, already? Poopy?” The big baby started to pale, in part because she might not have completely known. The faintest hint of a smile, just the barest hint of a threat came across the owner’s countenance. “Why do you ask, Samantha? Would you like to check?” Samantha didn’t miss a beat. “Only if you’d like me to, ma’am.” It came so quickly, so automatically. Good. Certain boundaries still had to be respected. Gwenny was a big baby, but she was Mrs. Marion Thompson’s baby. Samantha was clever, especially for a Tweener, but she wasn’t just a Tweener. “I’ll think she’ll hold up till her lunch break,” Marion said. She looked to Gwenny. “What do you think, Gwenny?” Fun fact, not really a question. “Yes, Mommy.” “Good girl.” Marion started walking back to the little room that served as her office. “Ready your station, sweetie. Samantha?” “Yes, Ma’am?” “With me, please.” The Tweener fell quickly into line behind her. “I’ve been going over the books.” “Yes, ma’am?” “We’ve had a steady growth in business the last few months.” This was fact. “Yes, ma’am.” “Even after all the extra highchairs we ordered.“ Another fact. The uptick in their business, not coincidentally she knew, came primarily from parents of Littles, though there was another new form of clientele as well. The parents needed more seats to place permanently padded bottoms. Assuming the shop’s recent momentum stayed constant, the new furniture would be a worthwhile investment. “Correct.” Hmmm...not a ‘Yes, ma’am’. Interesting. Marion walked into the little room that served as her office and took a seat behind her desk. Smartly, Samantha stayed standing with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting to be invited to sit. Marion wasn’t going to invite her to sit; not out of discourtesy but the practical fact that this meeting wasn’t going to be taking long. She opened her ledger where she had left it the night before and looked at her notes. “I see you’ve put in more requests for cream and milk.” It wasn’t a question. “We’re running through a lot more than we used to.” Marion gave her subordinate a look that made it clear that more than ‘Yes, ma’am’ would be required this time. “We’ve been selling milk and cream.” Samantha swallowed, clearly choosing her words carefully. “So that the Littles have something to drink too. In their bottles. Makes their Mommy’s and Daddy’s more comfortable sitting and sipping with them.” Marion kept her face straight. “And Gwenny’s special ingredient? The chocolate training syrup?” She could have sworn she saw the slightest flinch in the Tweener’s mask. Samantha regained her composure so quickly that Marion doubted herself. “I never charge extra for it. And only give it to good Little boys and girls who are behaving.” Ah. So that’s what that mother had meant the other day thanking her in passing for the ‘Special Treat’. “Does the rest of the staff know about this?” “Yes ma’am.” “Even on your days off?” “It helps our tips.” Not what Marion had asked, but good to know. An answer without an affirmative. Marion closed her ledger and stared down the Tweener still standing across from her. “Whose idea was it?” The first real pause. Then Samantha finally said. “Mine.” Accountability. Good. She might learn from this yet. “Put it on the menu.” “Ma’am?” “Put the milk for Littles on the menu. Complimentary still, but let our customers know about it.” She took a moment to let her employee take a relieved breath. “Keep the special add-in strictly under the table.” “Yes, ma’am.” Samantha nodded. She seemed intrigued by the idea, as if she hadn’t thought of the benefits of good advertising before. “You can have Gwenny put it up on the board high where she can reach.” A slight grin pulled at the right corner of her mouth. She pictured Gwenny having to get on a stool to put it on the menu board above the barista counter. No way to hide what she was wearing like that. The same thought must have crossed Samantha’s mind. Why else would she be grinning? “Yes, Ma’am.” She waited until Marion waved her off and then turned around to leave. “Oh, and Samantha?” The Tweener froze. “Make sure that any and all of the syrup we give away goes into Little tummies, and Little tummies only. Is that understood?” A single bead of sweat. “Yes Ma’am.” And with that she was gone up front. Samantha had likely been hoping that her boss didn’t suspect her. There was no suspect. Security cameras had confirmed enough. Gwenny had tried to outwit a Little that was going through an adult phase, and the Little and Samantha had turned the tables on her. Marion didn’t have a problem with this. Served Gwenny right, back then. Try and argue or match wits with a child and it shows how childish you really are when they beat you. It just wouldn’t do for Samantha, any of her employees, to get too ambitious. *********************************************************************************** “Mrs. Thompson?” Samantha’s voice rang in. She sounded slightly rushed and not in the usual way. “We kind of need you out here.” Marion looked up from her desk. It was unusual for anyone to barge in without knocking. She looked at her desk and thought she had her explanation. They were in the middle of the lunch rush. Yuppy interns and twenty somethings were streaming in to get their caffeine rush and some pre-packaged croissants since they were too overworked, time crunched, and cash strapped to get anything more filling. Marion got up and took her own personal apron off a coat rack by the door. “Did Ramon not come in on time? Is Marissa trying to take another break?” “It’s not that,” Samantha shook her head. “It’s Gwenny. She needs you. Badly. Leak. Blow out.” Marion inhaled but didn’t let herself seem bothered, even as every instinct in her told her to rush out. Though often in haste, she must never seem hurried. She finished tying the apron- she’d need it anyways- and grabbed Gwenny’s diaper bag from off the adjoining hook. “Get a mop.” “Marissa is already on it,” Samantha reported. “ Ramon’s holding Gwenny’s hand to stop her from fussing too much.” Then she added. “I came to get you because I had the easiest time maneuvering through the crowd.” So there was a crowd. No matter. Better than no matter; good even. While changing a diaper was never pleasant- an adult sized one that had been ruined beyond capacity acting as a multiplier on said unpleasantness-.the crowd would bring with it certain benefits. Combined with a certain feeling- maybe it was practicality; maybe it was the last vestiges of a proper maternal instinct - and Marion genuinely wanted to change Gwenny. She would have preferred to wait till after the lunch rush to do it, but if such accidents could be predicted, diapers would be largely unnecessary. The crowd hushed as Marion’s heels clicked on the hard floor, signalling her approach. Only the whimpering of one or two fussy Littles not in daycare registered when she came into sight. The dining room was packed. Not quite standing room only, but no one was sitting down. Everyone wanted a view of what was about to happen. Like courtiers in the presence of a queen, they parted for her. By everything holy she loved this part. If she had known that “adopting” a young Amazon woman would get her this level of satisfaction, she’d have done it much sooner. Ramon, who was either a very tall Tweener or an Amazon that could do with a few inches stood holding Gwenny’s hand, patting the back of it in an act of condescending comfort. Marissa was busy behind the counter scrubbing Gwenny’s “spill”. It very likely wasn’t THAT bad, but the optics of seeing someone scrubbing the site were just as important as the actual cleaning itself. People wanted to see certain things; to know that proper action was being taken for them. People wanted justice. And Marion wasn’t just thinking about cleaning up messes. The smell of Gwenny’s backside hit Marions nose over the coffee beans just as she stepped into the girl’s bubble. Marion didn’t flinch. She’d smelled worse. As a responsible adult, she’d started heavily regulating her girl’s diet to lessen constipation as well as odor. Besides, she was used to it. “Gwenny?” The Amazon girl didn’t look up. “Gwenny did you have an accident?” Gwenny nodded, sullenly, but didn’t say anything. “Gwenny I need an answer.” “Yes, Mommy.” The girl’s voice sounded choked, her throat tight. Marion tilted her chin up with her forefinger. “Do big girls have accidents in their panties?” She saw Gwenny blanch and drew a slight thrill from the fact that she could still make the girl wince after all this time. “No, Mommy.” “But you’re not wearing panties, are you?” Gwenny knew how the script went from here. “No, Mommy.” “Why not?” “Because I can’t be trusted.” “To…?” “Because I can’t be trusted to wear big girl panties…” “Because…?” A pause. “Because I’m just a big baby.” There was no applause this time, but she knew the audience behind her were almost universally nodding in agreement with her. She heard a few Mommy’s whispering to their Littles how Gwenny was just like them. “Do you want me to change your diaper?” “No.” A gasp from the crowd. Marion felt a brief jolt but contained her temper. There was no hint of defiance from Gwenny. Neither her tone, nor posture indicated rebellion. No glint of insincerity either; as so many Littles failed to conceal after they learned that direct defiance got them a spanking. “I don’t WANT you to change my diaper, Mommy. I just wanna keep working and making coffee. But I NEED you to change my diaper. And as a baby, I NEED you to take care of me, because I don’t know how to take care of myself. So if you say I need a diaper change, then I need a diaper change.” A chorus of “Awwww” punctuated Gwenny’s statement. The assembled crowd. Were she not the pillar of strength that she was, Marion might have melted right then and there. In her own, bizarre way, Gwenny was showing a kind of maturity that she’d lacked in a previous life. If only Littles were capable of this kind of introspection. She gently took the young woman’s hand from Ramon and started leading her towards the ladies’ room. “Here let me help you, Mrs. Thompson,” a customer said, holding the door open for them. “Thank you.” Marion said. She pointed to a wooden wedge right by the inside door. “Would you mind?” “Not at all.” The pine triangle was jammed underneath the door, letting everyone who wanted a peek inside simply need to crane their neck. Certain edicts from the Health Department discouraged if not outright prevented Marion from laying Gwenny down and changing her diaper right then and there in front of everyone, but that was okay. She didn’t want anyone thinking it was okay to change their babies on her nice clean floor or her otherwise pristine tables, either. Lead by example, and all that. But she didn’t want to change Gwenny in private always, either. Babies had no right to modesty. More importantly, Amazons being permanently diapered was a rare enough occurrence that the business woman in Marion worried that Gwenny might be seen as an actor. Actors slipped fake things into prop diapers and then and “got changed” in private dressing rooms. The local food service industry was cutthroat enough that competitors might say or do anything to discredit each other. What she could do, however, was set up other adult sized changing table in the bathrooms in clear view of the doorway, and leave the door open so that if anyone happened to glance in, they’d see the act of maternal care easily. None of the stalls or safeguards ensuring adult privacy had been compromised, and no one objected otherwise, so there was nothing any government official had to say on the matter. Gwenny walked into the restroom as she had close to a hundred times by now, and hopped up on the makeshift changing table. This one was a particularly strong and sturdy table, padded with multiple repurposed nap mats; the kind marketed for Kindergarteners and Littles trustworthy enough to not need cribs at daycare. The poor thing’s eye twitched a bit as she felt her own mess squish out beneath her. A few of the onlookers pressed certain societal advantages. “Oh, somebody else needs a change,” one of the Mommies said to their Little. “Might as well get in line.” Clever. Anyone else wanting to use the restroom would be expected to find a stall and excuse themselves. A few did, anyways. During one of Gwenny’s changes last week, a woman decided to “go potty” right then and constantly be talking about how great it felt to be an adult. A bit tacky, if you asked Marion, but it wasn’t hurting anyone, least of all Gwenny. The men folk were just out of luck. “Let’s get those shoes off.” Marion instructed. She slipped the sneakers off easily and then honed in on Gwenny’s skirt. She quickly yanked it down off of Gwenny’s legs and inspected it. “Awww, poor baby,” she said. “You leaked on your skirt.” The skirt’s edges were darkened with wet patches and brown stain near the hem. Such stains might have been caused by her laying down on the changing table just now. “We might have to invest in some plastic panties for you.” Hmmm..thinking of the plastic pants, if she could find some adult sized that were colored, she might not need stickers to decorate her baby’s diapers. The main reason diapers had cartoons on them is because adults had to look at them too. Marion gingerly folded up the skirt and shoved it into a large ziplock bag she kept in a spare compartment for just such emergencies. ‘Unfortunately’ for Gwenny, she hadn’t thought to pack her diaper bag with any extra skirts. In the meantime, Gwenny soothed herself by sucking on her thumb. Were there even pacifiers big enough for an Amazon? Marion supposed that the silencing soothers- the kind with the inflatable bulbs so Littles couldn’t spit them out - could work. Would a pacifier clip be too gauche? Something to consider for later. The diaper change went very much like any other. “Someone’s tummy finally caught up to her.” Marion teased. “It’s a good thing Mommy put that cream on your bum-bum this morning or you might have a rash.” Gwenny just sucked her thumb and averted her eyes. “She’s all done growing up too,” the Mommy behind Marion said. “But she still needs her Mommy to take care of her.” There are no whispers in a room tiled with linoleum. Marion paid it no mind, instead focusing on every nook and cranny of Gwenny’s lower body to wipe down and sanitize. This really was quite a load and she didn’t want to risk infection. “You made Mommy a big present, didn’t you baby?” This was true in more than just the obvious. Gwenny had put the coffee shop on the map. With the invention of Maturosis, fewer and fewer people without Little DNA in their blood were being thought to be immature despite all other conflicting data. Tweeners were getting off lighter. Amazons were bulletproof not because they deserved it but because people were starting to think it impossible that their behavior might warrant the proper treatment. It was a slippery slope from there. Babies like Gwenny were proof and a reminder: Proof that Amazon society cared and corrected for individuals in need of care and correction, regardless of size. That Amazons weren’t the crazy tyrants hidden in shades of pleasant pastel that Littles and their allies painted them to be. Gwenny and her societal demotion, besides being the best thing for her, was a reminder to society that Amazons as a whole were nothing if not equal opportunity. Amazon love was tough, but fair. That reminder had been the catalyst for increasing business and profit margins. The store had been doing more and more business as word had spread around the neighborhood and throughout the city that there was a diapered Amazon who worked full time at a coffee shop. A diapered Amazon that was cooed at and teased by a Tweener with near impunity. An Amazon who sucked her thumb and was changed in near-public by her employer/Mommy, and whose face lit up when random strangers thanked her for their coffee by calling her a good girl and leaving notes about it in the tip jar. Mommies with rambunctious Littles would come to prove a point to themselves and their forever children about the world and their own actions. Others came to remind themselves that some people still practiced what they preached. Some people? Some people might have just liked watching. If they gave her money, she didn’t care what their motivations were. “Much more cream this time,” Marion said after she’d wiped away the mess. She said it loud enough that those in the back would be able to hear. “Just in case.” Slightly overstimulated, Gwenny hid her face behind her hands, as Marion caked on the next layer of rash cream. There wasn’t enough powder in a bottle to completely cover up the smell this time. Out of courtesy, she still gave Gwenny a thorough dusting before wiping her hands and taping on the fresh nappy. The diaper went on and like a good girl, Gwenny reached up so that Marion could pull her up to a sitting position. The sneakers went back on. “Ready to go back to work? Gwenny looked down at her diaper and gave it a poke. It was only now just occurring to her that no replacement bottom would be coming “Can I still have an apron on?” “Of course you can.” It wouldn’t stop anyone from seeing the truth when she turned around. At all. “I love you, Mommy.” “I love you too, baby girl.” The two hugged and Gwenny started waddling to the bathroom entrance. Marion didn’t move. “Samantha!” The Tweener’s frame was in the doorway before her name had finished echoing. She already had a full Amazon apron folded like a towel in her hands. Dang, that girl was good. Definitely management material. “Yes, Mrs. Thompson?” “Give Gwenny some chocolate milk for being so good during her diaper change.” The fact that the milk would more than ensure the next change needn’t be spoken. Samantha frowned. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I thought…” Marion beat her subordinate to the punch. “Gwenny’s special, Samantha. It’s okay.” It didn’t matter if exposure to the stuff risked incontinence. Gwenny wasn’t ever going to need those big girl panties again; not if Marion had a say in it. “Yes, ma’am.” Samantha said. Then she smartly added. “Better safe than sorry is all.” “Of course.” Marion saw Samantha hand the apron to Gwenny. Gwenny draped it over her shoulders, and Samantha busied herself tying it in the back for her. “Gwenny, aren’t you gonna thank your Mommy for the yummy milk she said you could have?” Gwenny went stiff in the legs. “Yes. I’m sorry.” She turned and looked back to Marion. “Thank you Mommy. For the...treat.” More awwws from the lookie-loos. That. That was when Samantha earned the managerial position. The Tweener had a killer instinct about her. Her worker bees left the restroom and continued to ring up orders. Marion stayed. She pivoted toward the mother and her Little. A blonde bald boy in shortalls that bulged from the inside from all the swelling in his diaper. “Would you like me to change him?” “Oh...um...well sure, if you don’t mind.” The mother replied. The Little looked to his mother as if he’d been betrayed, but didn’t say anything. The soother between his lips prevented him from doing so. “It’s okay,” Marion said. “I used to help manage a daycare. I know how to help babies of all sizes.” The words ‘all sizes’ echoed to emphasize her point. The kid was soaked, but not leaking. Marion was fast and professional, not nearly as sensual or slow as she was with Gwenny. Though she did constantly reinforce what a cute baby he was and how he was nowhere near potty training and how much he needed his Mommy based on the state of his diaper. Just like Gwenny, the Little hid his face behind his hands. So cute, no matter the size. Due to speed and scale, the change was much faster paced, but Marion knew her job wasn’t done yet. While she buttoned snaps on the shortalls up over the fresh Wuvs, Marion’s ears picked up the sounds of quarters rattling down a vending machine coin slot. Another customer. “Here you go. Good as new.” She handed the Little back to his mother. “If you think he’s earned it, make sure to ask my Tweener employee for a milk. On the house. You can make it chocolate if he needs a special treat.” Marion didn’t need to emphasize anything or nudge or wink. “Thank you,” the woman said. “Come on Philly, let’s go get some chocky milk.” The Little gurgled with happiness behind the pacifier. At least it sounded like happiness to Marion. “Excuse me.” A new voice said. Marion turned and looked down but didn’t have to look far. The sound was coming from another Amazon, an inch or so taller than Gwenny by Marion’s estimation. She was dressed very professionally, with wire rim glasses and her hair back in a bun. She looked very smart in her blazer and knee length skirt. All the same, she was still young, twenty-one at most. An intern. A woman-child dressed to look older, more grown-up than she really was on the inside. “What can I do for you, sweetie?” Through her glasses, Marion made out red, cried out eyes and fresh humiliation. Her lips were dry. The mary jane shoes and frilly socks were another hint at what might be going on. The difference between pantyhose that a professional woman might wear and a little girl in tights were subtle, but obvious to anyone who knew to look. The young lady shifted subtly from one foot to another, and clutched an adult diaper in her hands. The protective undergarment in her grasp wasn’t the source of the crinkle everytime she nervously swayed her hips. Even used to it and almost smellblind to the scent of old ammonia, methane and baby powder, Marion guessed that the faint odor she was breathing in wasn’t coming from the lidded garbage can. “My name is Rebeccah, and I was very bad at my work.” She admitted. “I took longer breaks than were mandated by company policy, and blamed it on being in the bathroom.” This had a rote quality to it. A naughty child reciting their lessons. “My supervisor is correcting this problem and has brought me here on my lunch break.” She held out the diaper like it was a shield, or perhaps a steak for a hungry lion. “Would you please change me?” This was the other reason business had ticked up. When young Amazons stepped out of line, her shop was becoming a proper place to give them a much needed dose of humility. Marion looked past the girl and saw a woman about her age standing back with her arms crossed; the corporate mother hen making sure her bratty child did right by her punishment and responsibilities. The two older women locked eyes and nodded. “And why do you need changing?” The intern sniffed and gulped, her eyes begging for not having to be said out loud.. If she was looking for Mercy, Mrs. Thompson was not the person to ask for it. “I...I...I pooped myself.” “YOU WENT POOPIE IN YOUR DIAPER!” Just in case anyone in the back missed it. The young Amazon bowed her head and whispered. “Yes ma’am…” That was enough. Better to bend than snap them immediately. “Of course, sweetie,” Marion beamed. Hop on up, and I’ll be happy to get you all nice and clean, just like Gwenny.” The shudder from the younger lady was subtle, but she might as well have been openly weeping for Marion. She helped the newcomer lift her skirt and shimmy down her tights. “Oh these white tights are so cute on your legs. I bet you wish you could wear something just as adorable every day.” “No, ma’am.” She hopped up, cringing as the mess in her pants squished against her. This clearly wasn’t something she was used to. Marion untapped the diaper. “Oh wow, you really do need a change. You must’ve really needed to go potty.” “Yes, ma’am.” She quickly wiped the twenty-something down. “Good thing you were wearing a diaper. I bet you could be so much more efficient at your job without those icky potty breaks.” The girl didn’t blink, but her cheeks turned a peculiar shade of crimson. “I think I could manage my time just as effectively, ma’am.” She hastily included. “After I’ve earned it, I mean.” Marion decided not to include powder or cream for this one and just slid the new diaper from the vending machine under the girl once she lifted her hips. “That’s very mature.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Rebecca held up her skirt, properly chastised. “Will you please help me get my tights up.” “Of course, dear.” She shimmied it up the young lady’s hips, and considered checking ballet websites to find tights for Gwenny. Other baby girls got to take ballet in their cute tights and tutus. Why not hers? “Thank you, ma’am.” The intern hastened out of the bathroom. While the girl did her level best to disappear into the cafe’s assembled crowd, her supervisor met Marion halfway out. “Thank you very much,” the Amazon closer to Marion’s age said. “You have no idea how effective this is.” Marion searched her memory and thought of a handful of other Amazons she’d changed in the last few weeks. She thought she’d seen the supervisor before, too. “I think I might have an idea.” “If this continues on, it might become company policy.” The other woman winked at her. “Sending them here, I mean.” That made Marion smile. Good. More business. No complaints. “I’m very happy to help guide today’s youth.” She looked out the bathroom. “Of all ages and sizes.” Youth was subjective after all. “May she have some milk?” The woman asked politely. “If you think she’s earned it.” “I think she’s earned two whole bottles of chocolate milk.” “I said milk. Not chocolate milk.” The other woman cocked an eyebrow. “Why not chocolate milk?” Marion pointed out into the crowd to the still blushing woman. “Do you plan to keep...Rebeccah in diapers forever and make her your baby Becky?” The supervisor opened her mouth to scoff and then stopped. Her face took on a less smug and more contemplative look. “That remains to be seen for the moment.” “Then whether or not she gets chocolate milk remains to be seen as well.” “Ah.” The point had been made and taken. ******************************************************************************* A day or two later... “Mommy?” It was getting late. Closing time. The shop was closed and all the java junkies were being quietly persuaded to leave and go out to the places that they would be from. They didn’t have to go home, but they couldn’t stay here, and that was good enough for Marion. Marion was just finishing up the day’s accounting. “I’ll change you in a second, dear.” She didn’t look up, more than capable of multitasking. “No, it’s not that, I-?” “You don’t need changing?” “No, I mean I do, but I-” This time she looked up, feeling the slightest tinge of exasperation. “Are you leaking again?” If so she’d get changed, but then Marion would have to seriously reevaluate what kind of diapers she was using. “No, Mommy. But-” Marion waved her in. “Come in sweetie. Come sit in Mommy’s lap.” Being a full grown Amazon woman, it might become uncomfortable for Gwenny to be on her lap for more than a few minutes, but such bonding was important. Obediently, Gwenny did. Marion only needed to shift her leg and bob the girl a bit to feel just how thoroughly she’d used the diaper. She did need a change. She’d wait, though. “Mommy, I need ta tell you something.” One arm wrapped to steady her, Marion gave a quick kiss to her baby and looked down at her ledger. If only there was a way to further monetize these public changes. Sell tickets? Seek an official contract from the office building that was sending it’s slackers to her for public shaming? Nah. Too risky. “Yes, Gwenny, what is it now?” “Someone just came in, saying they wanted to talk to you.” “Mmmhmmm…” Marion replied. “Why didn’t Samantha come and get me? She’s the manager.” “The lady said it would be best if I did, an’ you say ‘the customer is always right’.” Gwenny lowered her voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. “That and I think she scares Samantha.” That was something. Samantha didn’t scare easily. She might be short but she easily had more Amazon in her than Little. “Oh really?” Marion remarked. Gwenny might be stretching the truth, however. “And did you ask for this person’s name?” Gwenny seemed uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with what was going on in her pants. “She told me that I should call her...Gramma.” The cafe’s owner looked up from her work in disbelief. “Gramma?” “Hello, Marion.” The form that filled the door was Marion’s equal in size and shape. Both had the same broad shoulders, wide hips, and buxom breasts. Her full head of hair billowing past her shoulders had lost most of its color, but a few rogue strands still had that golden sheen. Strands of treasure in a blanket of snow. If there was a mirror that showed what Marion would look like in twenty-five years, it might show her. “Mother…” Marion did her best to hide her shock, and her distaste. Her mother had been another reason why she’d gotten out of the Daycare business. It was very difficult to be your own person, even in your mid forties, when you were forever ‘Miriam Thompson’s daughter’. “Please, come in.” Her inflection had none of the geniality that her words did. She shifted Gwenny off her lap and gave her a little pat on the butt, a kind of silent code for ‘go play.” Gwenny made herself quiet in the corner of the office. A pink picnic blanket and some tinker toys were left there for when she got bored or would otherwise be in the way. Now was an excellent example of why such an investment was necessary. Mother walked in and sat down in the chair across from Marion’s desk without being invited. The power move did not go unnoticed. Still...family was family. “What can I do for you?” Marion asked. “I just heard some rumors,” Mother said casually. “And I wanted to see if they were true.” “What kind of rumors?” Oh to ask a question, even when one knew what the answer would be. Such was life. “That your coffee shop was booming, and that some of the more traditional family values were being promoted here.” She stole a glance behind her towards Gwenny. “Congratulations. I’m proud of you.” That caught Marion off guard. If she’d gotten more of that, she might still be working in daycare. “Thank you, Mother.” “Does your employee need changing?” Mother asked. “I can smell her from here. Go ahead. I don’t mind waiting.” The owner felt her jaw click into place. There it was. The same passive aggressive bullshit. “Her diaper will hold up just fine until we’re done. Gwenny is happy playing.” If she did change Gwenny in front of her mother, Marion could expect pointers or how she missed a spot or used too much cream or not enough powder, or perhaps the tapes weren’t going on at a correct angle. It was always something with Mother. “Or she could go change herself,” Mother pressed. “There aren’t any customers, so there’d be nothing stopping her from finding an empty stall and seeing to her own needs.” Mother couldn’t see it, but Gwenny’s head popped up as if it had been just suggested that she be abducted and probed by aliens. “That’s not likely,” Marion said. “Gwenny’s not mature enough to change her own diapers. She’s just a baby, after all.” “Aha!” A finger leveld itself at Marion’s face. “I knew it! You have adopted! You went and adopted without telling me!” Behind closed lids, Marion rolled her eyes and massaged her temples. “It’s not a secret, Mother. I’m Gwenny’s Mommy and she’s realized just where she needs to belong to be happy.” “Yes,” Mother said, “but you could have told me before you did it. We could have had a baby shower. Gotten proper furniture, clothes, the works. Thrown a party for her, for both of you.” She stopped and took another good look at Gwenny. “Granted, some items might be harder to procure than others give her size…” “I doubt you would’ve had time to make it,” Marion said. “Doesn’t New Beginnings still keep Littles overnight? I’m surprised you found the time to trek all the way here.” Mother started ticking items off on her fingers. “One, only the ones most in need. Two, the overnight services are completely automated, now. Three, I’m nearing retirement. Four, I’m allowed time off. You’d know all of that if you just read my emails. Now stop trying to change the subject. Why didn’t you tell me?” For fear of losing her temper, Marion looked past her mother and to her baby girl. It let her heart soften just a bit so as not to turn this into a screaming match. “It’s not something that was planned, Mother. It’s something that just...happened...and became its whole thing. It was just the stars aligning and I...I...did what came most naturally.” Mother leaned back in her chair. “That is love, isn’t it?” She had seemed to relax. “What so few Amazons understand is you don’t find the right baby by going out and looking to adopt one, it’s that the right one finds you and then you give them all your love through adoption. “You taught me well.” Marion didn’t exactly mean it, but figured the compliment couldn’t hurt. “That I did,” Mother agreed. “And you’ve been an exceptional student.” Damn, Marion wished such talk didn’t feel good. Whether it was Little, Tweener, or even the might Amazon, everyone had Mommy issues. “So…” Mother asked after her praise had sunk in. “When are you enrolling her?” “Enrolling her?” “At New Beginnings.” Gwenny’s head snapped up so quickly she might have cracked her neck. “WHAT?!” Neither woman reacted. “To finish up her education,” Mother said. “Teach her how to be a proper baby. Get her a few playmates, too, closer to her own maturity. I think it’d do everyone a world of good. No more having to bring her here to do busy work.. There’s a waiting list, but I could get her past the admissions department. We’re family, after all. “ “But I like-” Mother pressed on. “And it’d do the other babies there a world of good too. So many insist that the only reason they’re enrolled is because of their size and not their immaturity.” She laughed lightly to herself. “At first anyways. Then all the talkies go bye-bye. Having your Gwenny as a role model might smooth out the process.” “But…” “That’s very nice of you to suggest, Mother.” Marion said. “But Gwenny is already serving that function, and not just for your troupe of troubled toddlers all the way in Oakshire.” “But I…” “If it’s the drive you’re worried about,” Mother interrupted, “I’d be happy to help you, Marion. I don’t mind making the drive. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for my granddaughter.” “Mommy…” “That’s not the point,” Marion growled. “And you know it.” “Then what is the point, darling?” “BUT I LIKE WORKING HERE!” Gwenny exploded. “Not now, sweetie. Grown-ups are talking.” Both women said the phrase in unison. It came as automatically as a slight kick when one’s knee was hammered in the right place. That didn’t stop Marion from taking exception. “Excuse me,” she said after their voices had rang out in unison. “That’s my baby you’re talking to, Mother.” A sneaky smirk. “And you’re mine, Mary-wary.” Fire ignited behind Marion’s eyes. “That’s not my name, Leery-Miri.” Childish pet names and watercooler snickers came flooding back into both women’s brains. “You’ll always be MY baby girl.” Back in the corner, Gwenny started to whimper, not quite knowing what was going on, but not liking it one bit. The scene was interrupted by the timeline arrival of a certain Tweener Manager. “Um...Mrs. Thompson?” “Yes, Samantha?” “Everything is put away and clean and stocked for tomorrow? See you in the morning?” “Good night, Samantha. Get some rest.” Samantha didn’t need another hint to leave as fast as her legs would carry her. Her retreat was swift and completely silent save for the slight jingling of the door opening and closing. “Mrs.Thompson?” Mother said, darkly. “Since when were you Mrs. Thompson? Did I miss a wedding, too?” “A necessary affectation.” Marion sat up straighter, her spine stiffening. Married, even widowed, women got more respect, or so the reasoning went. “Have you been fibbing?” Mother challenged. “Does Mommy need to teach her little girl a lesson? Do you need to go over my knee?” “You can certainly try, Mirriam.” She didn’t. She got up, turned around, and walked away without looking back. “Mommy?” Gwenny asked after Mother hand showed herself out. “Is that really my Gramma?” “Unfortunately, yes dear.” “Am I going to have to go to daycare? With the Little babies?” “No, baby girl. I prefer that you stay with me.” “Can you change me, now?” “Mommy’s a little flustered right now, Gwenny.” Marion admitted. “We’ll get you sorted out when we get home.” Gwenny grimaced. “Right after we play with your buzz-buzz wand.” she promised. That seemed to make Gwenny perk up. ************************************************************************************************ Almost a week had passed since the most unpleasant meeting between Marion and her mother. That night had been restless. The next day tense, and if Marion Thompson were a more introspective and emotionally honest sort, she’d admit that she’d been more than a little harsh on her employees that particular day. But the day after that was better. And the following one was fine. And now that tense and ridiculous “conversation” was little more than an annoying anecdote filed away in the back of Marion’s mind. When Hurricane Mirriam came blowing in, the only thing to do was to buckle down and ride it out until she blew herself out. She’d run out of strength, and then go back to tormenting people who were smaller and weaker willed than her, until usually around the same time the next year. Sometimes she’d skip a year between landfalls. That’s how Hurricane season worked sometimes. Hurricane season. That was a funny idea. Marion felt particularly clever at having thought it and laughed a bit to herself on the drive home. So proud of her own cleverness was she, that that she didn’t see evidence that the storm had gone back into the ocean and built up strength until it was too late. “Mommy?” Gwenny said from the back seat. “Whose car is that?” Marion cursed under her breath. The navy blue car in her driveway signaled Mother’s approach. “That’s your Gramma’s car,” she said. “We have unexpected company.” She parked the car. “Does that mean I can’t get out of my work clothes yet?” Gwenny asked. Mrs. Thompson thought about that for a second. It’d be quite the flex to make Mother wait while she got her baby girl into my comfortable clothes. Yes. Let’s do that. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, honey.” Her heart started to pick up a tick when she got out of the car and realized that Mother wasn’t in hers. “Come on, Gwenny. Chop chop. Mommy needs to go inside. Now.” “Yes, Mommy.” Mother was sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of red from out of Marion’s wine cabinet. “Hello, dear,” she said. “Surprised to see me?” “Just a second, Mother.” Marion said, barely looking. “I’ve got to get Gwenny sorted out.” She wasn’t going to ask how her mother got in. Never ask questions you didn’t want answers to. She just knew that a call to a locksmith was in her near future. “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Mother asked, her voice dryer than the wine in her hand. Marion did not, in fact, want to know. “I brought presents.” Presents. Gifts. Reinforcers. Mirriam’s back up ammo when scorn and passive aggressive praise failed to land. The sugar that tricked you into swallowing her bitter pills. Marion bit her tongue to stop from growling and gave Gwenny a pat on the bum. “Go pick out something to wear. Mommy will dress you up in just a second.” “Or Gramma!” Mother called out as the big baby toddled off to her room. Gwenny did not look back. Good girl. She knew who was in charge. They both waited until the crinkling had faded to the background. “What do you want, Mother?” Mother put the wine glass down on the coffee table. She was decent enough to use a coaster. “Can’t a grandmother spoil her new baby granddaughter? Buy her a few presents?” Marion thought about her own childhood. “I very much doubt you have anything she could want.” The squeal that rang out from Gwenny’s nursery put lie to that. Marion went running. What now? When she got to Gwenny’s room, Marion wanted to scream, too. She wanted to open her mouth and howl so that the whole neighborhood could hear her. The worst part was it was exactly in the same spirit as Gwenny’s shriek. No ironic juxtaposition at all. A new coat of pink paint had been put on the walls and the carpet freshly cleaned. The makeshift crib and changing tables had been removed, in their place were scaled up and intricately crafted variations of the real deal. Wooden drop rails encased Nora the Discoverer bedsheets and a pile of stuffed animals. Where the massage table had been, was now a real sized multi shelved changing table; exactly like the kinds in New Beginnings but scaled up to fit an Amazon. The retractable safety railing and safety strap were largely unnecessary given Gwenny’s behavior but a nice touch to the aesthetic. The toy box that had been in the corner of the room had been added to with so many infantile trinkets that they spilled out of the open lid. Chances were slim-to-none that the lid could even be closed. A playmat had been laid down with alphabet letters and corresponding animals in the middle of the floor. There no rocking chair, and if there had been one it still wouldn’t seat two grown Amazons comfortably. Yet Marion couldn’t help but notice a rather large pillow that had the shape of a chair back. It’d be very easy for her to prop herself up on the floor with that during Gwenny’s morning and nightly breastfeedings. Very comfortable. Very intimate. Damn it. This was...this was perfect. Her mother had just given her baby girl a true-to-life baby’s room despite her adult size. And Marion hated her for it. “Mommy! Mommy!” Gwenny squealed, grabbing a diaper from beneath the changing table. “Look at my diapers!” No medical wetness indicator or ugly medical name brand anywhere on the diaper. “It took some searching online, but I finally found a supplier of...Amazon sized incontinence products.” Mother said proudly. No cartoons on them, but I think a plain white diaper can be very cute and babyish too. They’re like bigger versions of what you wore.” There was a pause. “Before you grew up.” “I love them!” Gwenny said, because of course she did. “If she really wants them to look cute,” Mother added “we can put stickers on them one afternoon. A few packs from a dollar store will go a long way.” “Uh-huh!” Gwenny nodded excitedly. She was practically bouncing. Marion just silently fumed at how perfect this all was. “Mommy, can you change me into one of these? Pleeeease.” “Go pick out your outfit, first,” Mother said, pointing to the closet. “No sense in getting changed if you’re staying in that silly looking big girl costume you’re wearing.” It’s exactly the sort of thing Marion would have said in Mother’s place. Damn her. A second squeal punctated the air from inside Gwenny’s closet. What now? “Mommy! Look! Look! Loooooook!” Gwenny came running out with two plain T-shirts. It took a solid two seconds before Marion connected the dots and noticed the snaps at the bottom. Those weren’t T-shirts. “Onesies?” Marion wondered. “In Gwenny’s size?” “I had to pull a few strings with some tailor friends of mine,” Mother bragged. “Same with a carpenter or three. But I felt that my granddaughter deserved something more...appropriate to wear. No more big girl costumes for you!” Gwenny charged and gave Miriam a ball fisted hug. “Thank you Gammy! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” “Gammy?” Mother remarked. “I think I like that.” She gave Marion a wink. Marion had the sudden urge to turn her mother into a cyclops. “Come on. Hop up on the changing table and Gammy will help you try on some of your new outfits.” Marion just stood there, slowly shaking her head at her mother’s gall while her baby cooed and squealed while she was being changed. “Oh my, my Gwenny is so wet! I think she let out a little more pee-pee when she saw her brand new clothes. Now she’s gonna look so much prettier! So many nice new diapers, and onesies, and pretty dresses and tights!” Mother tickled Gwenny, and a spurt of urine actually leaked out onto the fresh diaper. “Woopsie! Baby Gwenny definitely isn’t ready for big girl clothes, si she? Let’s try again!” Her mother had a lot of stones, that was for sure. Marion excused herself and walked out. She needed more than a glass of wine, and felt the need to check the rest of the house. There was the very distinct possibility that Mother might have tried to convert one of the other rooms. She might be trying to move in….or take over and make Gwenny and Marion ‘sisters’. That wasn’t likely, but Marion wouldn’t have put it past the older woman. The good news was that the coast was clear. Gwenny’s room had been the only thing that had been changed. The bad news was that Mother was in full on smoke when she and Gwenny came back out to the living room. “So, what do you think?” Mother asked. Gwenny crawled, actually crawled behind her. “It’s very nice, Mother.” Marion quipped. “A babyshower that only had one uninvited guest.” Mother was unphased. “And now she’ll fit in with the other kids.” “Not this, again.” This time Marion didn’t bother to close her eyes before rolling them. “Is Gwenny a big girl or a baby?” Mother pressed. “You don’t want her getting confused working in that coffee shop, do you?” “That coffee shop is where I found Gwenny, Mother.” “Even more the reason to take her out of the environment. You HAVE to remove them from as much of their old adult life as possible. If not they might get it into their heads that they’re just a grown-up in diapers instead of the baby they’re supposed to be.” “I’m well aware of the New Beginnings creed,” Marion spat. “I added a few things to it, if you’ll recall.” “But there’s so much more, these days” Mother added. “We’ve got some very special cartoons that will completely get rid of that naughty sex drive.” Gwenny blushed. “Naughty...?” “Yes dear,” Mother patted the girl condescendingly on the head. “Gammy found your grown up buzz-buzz toy. Real babies don’t need that kind of thing, do they? No they don’t. No they don’t.” It was stupid, but Marion saw her baby girl’s face droop and felt sorry for her. “It’s just a masturbation toy, Mother.” “An ADULT toy. She’s not an adult is she? Or maybe it really is an act…” Marion refused to rise to the bait. “It’s a form of stimulus and positive reinforcement, mother. No different than dangling plastic keys. Or should I take her to the dentist and have all her teeth removed too since they’re not her ‘baby teeth’?” Gwenny gasped. clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m just saying, what’s the point?” “What’s the harm?” “She could get confused.” “She won’t get confused.” Time to throw down the gauntlet. “I’m her Mommy, and I know what’s best for her.” “Then why won’t you do what’s best for your daughter and enroll her?” “What’s best is that she comes and works with me!” Marion didn’t even realize she was standing until a few seconds up on her feet. “Mommy…” Mother crossed her arms. “You just want it both ways. A baby you don’t ACTUALLY have to take care of. One that can see to herself and start being an adult the moment doing so becomes inconvenient.” “Gammy…” No point in refuting it. It wasn’t true. “You just can’t accept that you and your views are outdated, and that not everything can fit neatly into your Little mold. You don’t know the difference between a baby and a coma patient! It’s all the same to you as long as they’re quiet and mess themselves in their sleep!” “Mommy?! Gammy?!” Mother was rolling up her sleeves. “You watch your tone, ‘Mrs.’ Thompson! You’re daughter isn’t too big for diapers, and neither is mine!” Actually rolling up her sleeves. Marion curled up her fists. “In My house? At My age?” she scoffed. “No. Fuck that. At YOUR age? You really think you can try that bullshit on me at YOUR age?” “WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE IN FRONT OF THE BA-!” “GUYS!” All three Amazons- two grown-women and a grown-baby were on their feet. “STOP!” “SWEETIE NOW NOT NOW! GROWN-UPS ARE TAL-” “THEN AAAAAAAAACT LIIIIIIIIKE IIIIIIIIT!” Gwenny stomped her feet and slapped her thighs, her anger threatening to balloon into a full blown tantrum. Tears started flowing down her cheeks, and both ‘Gammy’ and ‘Mommy’ sympathetically clutched at their chests. There was a silence that followed. It didn’t last a minute, but it was uncomfortable for all of them. What to do? Continue the tantrum? Punish the brat for interrupting? Or console the baby because the grown-ups were fighting in front of her. It was Gwenny of all people who acted first. “Mommy,” she said. “Gammy got me some really pretty clothes, and I love them. They make me feel...right. They make me look on the outside like I feel on the inside. And I wanna wear them all the time. No more big girl clothes.” Mother shot the nastiest look at Marion. “Thank you, dear.” “Gammy, I don’t wanna go to any daycare. I don’t like Li….other kids very much.” “That’s nice dear but you’ll make lots of new fri-” “Mommy was nice enough to let me finish,” Gwenny interrupted. “Why can’t you?” Mother looked positively gobsmacked. Marion felt absolute pride in that moment. This. This is why you didn’t try to match wits with children. You deserved what you got when you lost. “I’m a baby,” Gwenny continued. “I was a baby before Mommy found me. I was a baby before I pooped my big girl panties. Working for Mommy just helped me learn it. And I like working for her. But if I’m a baby, then that means anything I do is gonna be babyish. Doing chores for Mommy isn’t gonna or…” she paused and bit her lip. “Playing with a grown-up toy when Mommy gives me permission isn’t gonna make me any more grown-up than I already am.” She stopped and then looked down at the floor before finishing. “I’m really sorry that I yelled.” “Damn it.” Mother hissed. “You’re right.” “Language, Gammy” Marion prodded. “Not in front of the baby. Or do you need to go back in diapers and be given a bar of mouth soap?” “How dare-” “Mommy? Gammy?” Both women froze. “We’re sorry, Gwenny.” “Wisdom from the mouth of babes, eh?” Mother conceded. “She has a point.” “As long as we’re both happy,” Marion said. “It doesn’t matter how I raise her.” “And as long it’s obvious to all that she’s a baby,” Mother added. “But yes. You’re right. Age and size doesn’t matter as much as your love and her needs.” Inspiration and a smile came to Marion simultaneously. “And I think I know how to do that.” ********************************************************************************** “Here’s your coffee, Gammy...I mean, ma’am.” The Amazon girl gave her customer her order. “Thank you, baby girl,” Mrs. Thompson the elder replied, taking a sip of the coffee with satisfaction. Of course Gwenny was called a ‘baby girl’, there was no mistaking her for anything else. The yellow dress she was wearing puffed up at the sleeves and flared out at the waist, and even though there was more than enough padding in the chest for decency’s sake, Gwenny wasn’t wearing a bra, either. Without even a glance, anyone could tell she was wearing a puffy white diaper beneath the crisp white tights. Clicking away in black mary janes, she looked like a giant Little. The pig-tails helped, too. Gwenny no longer wore big girl clothes. She never would again. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help out around her Mommy’s shop. Good thing, too Customers were now coming in at all times of day to have a cup of coffee carefully delivered by the tiny shops one and only ‘waitress’. Everyone wanted to tease and pat and the fallen Amazon on the behind; to gush over her and tell her what a baby she was. She was lower on the social scale than even the punished secretaries and interns that were ushered in, forced to wear medical diapers beneath baggy pants and skirts, blushing and hemming and hawing at having to be changed by Mrs. Thompson. For some Gwenny was a warning to others. That Amazon maternalism could strike and demote anyone who got in their way. For others she was a symbol of fairness. It really was a matter of who you were on the inside that mattered, and if you were a baby that meant you deserved to be treated as one in front of anyone and everyone; whether you liked it or not, (though if you were honest with yourself, you’d like it). For her, her Mommy, and her Gammy who occasionally visited? The nametag that she wore said it all: “Special Helper.” Gwenny liked it. She didn’t have to think so much about her old life before Mommy, and she could leave the tag. In Mommy’s office before they went home and put it on just before work. More time to play with Mommy. Prettier clothes from Gammy to wear, too. (The End).
  4. This is a sequel to "Fair is Fair" and "Special" Samantha hated being a Tweener sometimes. Tweeners: Caught between two worlds. To the Amazons, people like Samantha were children; not quite babies like Littles, but not true adults, either. More like Elementary or Middle Schoolers at best. Trustworthy, but not dependable, and certainly not too big to be cut down to size and put back in diapers. (Though as far as the crazy giants were concerned, anybody could be put back in diapers). To the Littles, the Tweeners were either allies of convenience or stooges to the giants. Sometimes allies. Sometimes adversaries. Never really friends; not in a way that mattered. Yeah, there was that shared bond of being terrified of the giant people, and there were no only children or atheists in foxholes. But if push came to shove, an Amazon would much prefer to baby a Little than to settle for a Tweener. Samantha would know. She had a few Little friends growing up in her neighborhood. When one of them got snatched up by a random Amazon, due to a failed pantie check, Samantha had been given a choice: Reach into the giant woman’s diaper bag like a good and responsible girl or get put back in diapers herself. After all, only babies tried to help other babies be naughty and wear big girl panties. Her Little friends had stopped talking to her after that. Screw them. They’d have done the same thing. Tweeners and Littles couldn’t really protect each other from the Amazons and the Amazons would never accept a Tweener as a “true adult” or whatever rationale they used to justify their behaviors. Too much Little in them to be respected by Amazons and too much Amazon in them to be loved by Littles. That’s what the rationale was anyway. Tweeners: The Third People. Born out of when Littles and Amazons bred with each other. Samantha didn’t completely buy that line, either. She’d never seen a pairing of Amazon and Little where the Little wasn’t cast as a baby. Her own parents and grandparents were Tweeners and all the Tweeners she knew had Tweener parents. She was aware of a few rich and famous pairings between an Amazon and a Tweener, but as far as she could tell, the status of the child was largely determined by the mother; either a tall-ish Tweener that was a head or two taller than their mother, or a short Amazon who was a head or two shorter. Little and Tweeners pairings were even rarer and Samantha had heard of it only in theory. The entire Littles community did its level best to isolate itself socially. An understandable reflex when it seemed that eight out of ten interactions with the taller folk resulted in firing from one’s job and permanent enrollment at a daycare somewhere. A Little and an Amazon though? In love? Boinking?: The physical mechanics of sex, pregnancy, and birth were both hilarious and horrifying. Samantha couldn’t picture that ending well. Pain and possibly death for the woman if Little, and just complete and utter lack of satisfaction if an Amazon with a much smaller lover. But that’s where Tweeners originated from. So said the Amazons, and the Amazons made the rules, including history. And according to the rules, the best and only way to survive as a Tweener was to throw the attention on someone else. Be the world’s middle child. Better to make the short ones envious and be overlooked by the big ones. Speaking of “big ones”... “Oh, I think you’re so much better like this, don’t you?” Two Amazons: Both in their forties at least were in the Ladies’ Restroom. The one currently speaking was in a gray pantsuit, her hair the kind of blonde that only came out of a bottle, and her graying eyebrows all but testified to it. Samantha had a decent eye for detail, and rarely forgot an Amazon’s face; mostly as a survival technique. This particular woman had never been in the shop before, Samantha was certain, but there was something familiar about her nonetheless...a family resemblance of sorts. The second woman, Samantha definitely remembered seeing. Only last time she was the one in the business suit. Now? Not so much. Nothing about her current state of dress could be considered business,or a suit. The light pink shirt looked like something that would be sold at a Mega-Mart; something that would be a casual sleep shirt or part of a lazy weekend wardrobe when you didn’t care what you looked like...the kind that people wore to places like Mega-Mart. Even with the Carpet Mice picture on the front, it wasn’t anything that might be considered scandalous for an Amazon to wear. It was something an Amazon Mom (or more likely Mommy) might wear when playing with their kids. The cartoon about adopted Littles and their bratty Tweener friend had been around long enough to be retro-chic and nostalgi However when taken in context with the rest of her outfit, that big baggy t-shirt was hands down the most grown-up thing the other Amazon was wearing. The white bonnet looked like something out of a costume shop, or maybe a period piece about Easter in the Old West. The pink tights being yanked down to her ankles might have come from a ballet shop. The matching plastic pants that followed were largely unnecessary save to add bulk and a bit of extra infantile aesthetic to the very soaked and very messy adult diaper that was just now showing itself. Amazons had yet to invent a pacifier that could effectively gag one of their own, but this one was doing its job well enough. The woman on the changing table looked like she was sucking on the dummy just to prevent herself from screaming; preserving her dignity and cementing her image as a giant toddler. The usual crowd of gawkers were already gathering in to watch the latest show. Ever since the owner, Mrs. Thompson, had taken a new managerial style, more and more locals were turning on each other. Were untaken Littles that scarce or were Amazons just that crazy? Maybe the big ones getting laid out on the changing table made the ones still standing feel superior or justified in how they treated the little ones? Both? Neither? It didn’t matter as long as Samantha wasn’t the one crinkling. Regardless of the reason, every time an Amazon was laid down, the looky loos would want to peek inside and casually have a look. Go figure. Four out of five times, the Amazon getting changed was Gwenny, Mrs. Thompson’s toy and pet project. Gwenny used to be Samantha’s bossy co-worker and a nightmare to deal with, (like most Amazons). Samantha helped take care of that. And for whatever reason, the stars aligned, and a switch flipped in either Gwenny’s and/or Mrs. Thompson’s brain. Gwenny was proof that Amazons were really no better than Littles...just not in a way that kept a single Little out of a crib. Lately though, more and more were following Mrs. Thompson’s lead. An office park was sending interns over for a more than healthy dose of public shaming and humiliation; a way to turn the pressure up and remind them that even they weren’t as grown-up as the people signing their paychecks. The lady who was about to get changed now didn’t look like a stereotypical intern, however. “Yes,” the more powerful, more adult woman cooed down. “I definitely think you look much better like this, Baby Tricia.” She lifted the other woman’s legs and gave her messy bottom a pat. “Muuuuuch better.” ‘Baby Tricia’ (though she was probably Patty or Patricia before now) just moaned pathetically and sucked on her pacifier, trying not to cry. Oooooh. Samantha knew that face. Last time, this woman had been changing diapers instead of wearing them. Oh, how the tables had turned. Samantha weaved in and out of the Amazon bodies, making sure to quietly say “Excuse me” just in case. The customers were too busy sipping on their lattes and/or watching the free show to take much notice of her. Sometimes it was good to be a Tweener. The woman in control ripped all four tapes off the diaper. “Poor Baby Tricia,” she taunted, “thought you could shape company policy, and you did. But you forgot something: Adults ask for permission. Children ask for forgiveness.” The babied woman lifted her legs so that her tormentor could wipe her bottom with baby wipes. “Yush Ma’am,” she mumbled around the pacifier. The Tweener had wormed her way to the front and walked into the bathroom. The words she was hearing sent a jolt straight to the pleasure centers of her brain. Littles in this situation were either completely overwhelmed, brain dead, or just plain dead inside. All Littles know the day they went to daycare might come. If they hadn’t been mentally broken, this was just what would be another day to them; no different than the children they were forced to pretend to be. Not interesting in the least. Samantha couldn’t bear to look at the odd Tweener that found themselves on a changing table. Just another failure. Someone who’d failed at the balancing act between Little and Amazon and tilted towards Little. A real Don’t Let This Happen To You. But Amazons? Ooooh, that was something special. To see the humiliation in their eyes. The realization that they were no better than any of the smaller folk. The cognitive dissonance and embarrassment when they’d been told that they’d objectively failed at the maturity and adulthood that was supposed to come so naturally to the giants. To see that realization and moment when they finally realized how badly they were screwed. Samantha just HAD to see that. Every time. A rare few, like Gwenny, found that they liked failing. To them, an Amazon’s absurdly high expectations were just.a matter of projection; a literal case of treating others like they wanted to be treated. Those rare few tended to be better people once their needs were met. Gwenny was infinitely more pleasant to have around the shop than ‘Gwendolyn’ had ever been. Most were just humiliated that they’d fallen so far and found themselves stuck in their own personal horror story. Samantha liked that, too. Oh how awful it was for them! At the very least, when (not if) they earned their big girl panties back, they’d be less brazen bullies. That bit of humility force fed to them was damn near intoxicating. And then there were the rare few...but more on that later… “You also forgot to do your research,” the woman doing the diapering mocked. “Like who’s daughter it was that you dragged down here.” Oh that! THAT! That’s where she knew this poor crazy bitch from. The lady on the changing table had brought over an intern to do the ol’ song and dance. There was even mention that this ritual might turn into a matter of disciplinary policy in the office across the way. Poor not-so-Little girl had been brought in and given nearly the full treatment. Becky, her name was. If the contours of the older woman’s face were any indicator, Baby Tricia had pissed off Rebeccah’s flesh and blood mother, and Mother Dearest must have outranked her to boot. Now the forty-something Amazon was getting a big heaping helping of her own medicine. Oh how the mighty had fallen! Samantha was almost drooling. She had to do something! She had to! She couldn’t resist. “Excuse me, Ma’am.” Samantha said, her voice amplified by the near empty bathroom. She stood up, back straight and head up with her arms folded behind her back. Perfectly at ease. Perfectly mature. “Can I offer some assistance?” The Amazon in charge looked at her own eye level first, then plummeted down to Samantha’s mid section, before adjusting to her eye level. A scowl turned to a smile turned to a quizzical look. That’s how it usually went with Amazons and Tweeners. “I’m quite capable of doing this myself, thank you young lady.” There was the slightest edge of ‘go away’ hinted at in there. Samantha should have gone away and scurried off. She had other matters to attend to, being manager and all. And yet… “Oh, I have no doubt about that, Ma’am. I just noticed the baby’s diaper and-” “Oh yes,” the woman interrupted. “Baby Tricia is such a stinky bum! Yes she is! Yes she is!” She leaned over and pinched the woman’s nose. “That’s why we came here. This is the only place that has a changing table that’ll fit her and I wouldn’t think of changing her on the dirty ol’ office floor!” The prone woman’s whole body started to turn pink. “But if we need to, I have no problem buying her a special changing mat!” Samantha caught a flare of surprise and panic in the babied woman’s eyes. Potty probation hadn’t been assured, yet. “Absolutely,” Samantha agreed. “I just noticed that the baby’s diaper seems a little...adult…?” The woman balled up the dirty diaper and tossed it in the trash. She rolled her eyes, good naturedly. “That’s because Tricia is a VERY big baby, and baby diapers don’t come in her size.” The Tweener looked down at the ground. “Not necessarily…” “What...?” Samantha bit her lip. “I might be able to get a diaper or two that would look positively adorable on her.” She was already starting to feel all tingly. “That way she could show off her diaper and no one would be confused about what she was. No need for tights and plastic pants.” Then she tacked on. “If you wanted of course.” A bemused smirk on the towering giant’s face. “And what would this cost me?” Nothing. Samantha wanted to say nothing. She’d do this kind of thing for free. But it wasn’t her diapers she was offering. “Three dollars..” she said. “A diaper, I mean.” The matron stroked her chin in thought. The punished middle manager shook her head ever so slightly, begging for mercy. The one in charge must have seen it. “Deal.” She reached into her purse and took out a ten. “Get me three and I’ll pay you once I’m done putting one on her.” “MmmmNo!” The cry rang out so that everyone could hear. Samantha had to bite down on her tongue to force herself not to shudder. It wasn’t a shudder of revulsion, either... “Hush, Tricia,” the woman replied. She started stripping the tights and plastic pants off the woman. “If you’re as big as you think you are, you’ll only need to wear one of them. Just no more accidents the rest of the day and you can use the big girl potty at work.” Samantha rushed out of the bathroom, the gears in her head being propelled with sparks of delight. “ Excuse me, pardon me, pardon me. Customer service.” She took a breath and looked at some of her Amazon co-workers. “Veronica, don’t forget to restock. Manny, I think you missed a spot on the floor.” In one breath she was scraping and bowing towards the customers who assumed she must not be in charge. In the next she was giving orders to co-workers to prevent them from gawking (or noticing what she was up to). All the while she was planning three steps ahead just so that she could indulge in a bit of scheming. Such was life. As a Tweener anyhow. “Gwenny,” Samantha said as she pulled aside the lowest ranking member of the staff. Gwenny technically didn’t get paid anymore. Gwenny wasn’t technically a grown-up anymore. An adult, yes. But the giant poofy diaper that was not at all covered up by her custom toddler dress and pastel socks that went, broadcast who she really was on the inside. Gwenny was the first. The first time that Samantha got to experience victory and control...even by proxy. Gwenny was proof that Amazons practiced what they preached; and that they weren’t nearly as high and mighty as they thought. “Yes, Samantha?” Gwenny asked. “Did I spill a drink again?” Her hand ran down her backside and between her legs briefly. “Or did I leak? Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” Gwenny also hadn’t used a toilet in a long time. She was almost incontinent these days. “Can you check me?” Under normal circumstances, Samantha would have taken the opportunity. She loved making the giant baby squirm and blush with the slightest pat to her bottom (and a very loud exclamation about the status of her diaper). Under normal circumstances, she didn’t have a bigger payoff waiting in the bathroom next to an impatient matriarch type. “You’re fine, Gwenny. Go get your diaper bag.” “But you said…?” “They’re not for you.” Samantha corrected. “But they’re too big for y..ow!” Samantha had to pinch Gwenny to quiet her down. Damn, she wished she was just a smidge taller. “A lady is changing her baby in the bathroom,” Gwenny said. Then she sprinkled a little white lie. “But she’s a new Mommy and the vending machine is broken.” “Oooooh!” Gwenny said. “That makes sense.” It did, didn’t it? “Okay. I’ll be a good helper!” Gwenny waddled over behind the counter and got out her diaper bag.. Mrs. Thompson did all of the changing where the overlarge baby was concerned, but Gwenny still kept her diaper bag behind the counters where the rest of the ladies kept their purses and such. Gwenny said it was because she liked pretending to be big while she was helping. Samantha suspected it was the owner reminding the rest of the staff that a similar fate might await them if they ever fell too far down the ladder. There were worse things than being fired… “Here you go, boss!” Gwenny said, picking up a folded diaper out of her bag and waving it around for all to see. Samantha walked up and took the diaper. “Two more, please,” she said. “For just in case.” “But…” Samantha rolled her eyes. “I’ll pay you ten whole dollars. You can buy yourself a dessert” Fuck it. This wasn’t about the money, anyways. Two more diapers found themselves stacked in Samantha’s arms. Kids. No matter how big or old, they were always bribable. “This better be worth it,” the head Amazon said. “I’m sure Tricia’s getting...oh!” She took the diapers from Samantha and examined them with the same intensity as an archeologist pouring over a mysterious artifact from the fabled lost city of Atlanta. Gwenny wasn’t just an Amazon on punishment. Mrs. Thompson had gone all out. Instead of an obvious medical diaper, something that might be used for the infirm but otherwise grown-up, Gwenny wore special all white padding. It was almost exactly like what babies and Littles wore. The stickers that Gwenny added on in her free time for decorations more than made up the difference. ‘Tricia’s’ boss/Mommy let out an audible gasp. “This! This! Oh yes!” She wasted no time in unfolding and fluffing the top diaper “Do you approve, Ma’am?” Samantha really needn’t have asked. She could tell. Samantha approved too. The look of humiliation and realization dawning on the other woman’s face. Realizing that she’d have to wear something that babyish. Without tights. Without any sort of covering or obfuscation. She’d just have to tug and tug and tug on the t-shirt, even though it wouldn’t come down nearly far enough. And she’d be constantly thinking about it with every bit of movement, hyper aware that at any moment someone could just come up and check her. She probably avoided that little indignity because of the multiple layers. Not anymore. Not as the new diaper was slid underneath her and she was powdered and oiled back up. Samantha wasn’t wearing a diaper, and she didn’t have to pee, but she was definitely feeling wet. Far too soon, Tricia was all taped up and back on her feet. Samantha wished she could have taken just a little bit longer. “Oh this is much better,” the head woman said. “My compliments to the Manager.” “Thank you very much.” Samantha replied. “I am the manager.” She pointed to the pin that the other woman clearly hadn’t bothered to read. “Oh that’s wonderful. Say thank you, Tricia.” “Fankyoo,” the humiliated giant blushed and mumbled past her pacifier. Oh how to make this moment last? Another bit of inspiration. “Would you like to give your baby a fresh bottle of milk?” Samantha asked. “Complimentary? As a treat?” The woman finished packing Tricia’s two remaining diapers away into her bag. “That sounds lovely.” She fished out a baby bottle that had only been filled with water. Clearly this punishment was straight amateur hour over at the office. Samantha took the bottle. “Wonderful! I’ll meet you and Baby Tricia,” just saying the name out loud gave the Tweener the best kind of chills. Another round “Excuse me’s” and a quick hassling of her fellows to do routine maintenance while filling out orders for the post lunch rush later, Samantha was behind the counter again. She dumped out the baby bottle and gave it a quick wipe with a clean towel. She reached into the tiny fridge and grabbed the milk. When the bottle was halfway full, Samantha’s eyes settled onto Gwenny’s special syrup...another infamous concoction...a little something something that did more than turn the milk chocolatey. A brief scene played back in Samantha’s eyes. “Why not chocolate milk?” Patricia/Baby Tricia had asked Mrs. Thompson when she’d been the one diapering instead of diapered. “Do you plan to keep...Rebeccah in diapers forever and make her your baby Becky?” Mrs. Thompson has asked. “That remains to be seen for the moment.” “Then whether or not she gets chocolate milk remains to be seen as well.” Then the promise that Patricia would get out of diapers as long as she didn’t have any more accidents… “Here’s your baby’s milk!” Samantha chirped. “I even made it chocolate for her!” “Oh chocolate! Babies loooove chocolate! Don’t they?” ‘Baby Tricia’, knew exactly what was in that bottle. “Please…” she whimpered. The pacifier fell directly out of her mouth. “Not that. Not the chocolate milk.” Oh how the tables had turned! It was delicious. Sweeter than chocolate! “That’s not very nice,” her supervisor said. Tears started rolling down Baby Tricia’s face as the nipple was placed between her lips and she began to obediently suckle. Maybe the relatively low dosage wouldn’t affect her compared to a Little. Maybe… Gwenny crinkled past Samantha and grabbed the next few drinks, reading out names and then toddling out the tables, squeaking and squealing when she was given a pat on the butt and a “good baby”. Then again... If this woman was as ‘nice’ as Mrs. Thompson was, maybe Baby Tricia would get a new job passing out mail or whatever someone with the body of a forty something and the authority of a two year old might be allowed to do. Samantha was handed a twenty. “For the diapers and a tip for going the extra mile.” She gave a winning smile and burned the image of the crying baby woman in her mind. With the pairs leaving, and the practical baby blood frenzy dying down with the rest of the customers, Samantha opened the cash register, broke the twenty, and gave Gwenny half. Fair was fair. She turned her half of the tip into ones and slunk off yet again to the ladies’ room. “I’m going on break,” she said to no one in particular. “Won’t be long.” Using the wooden triangle wedge, Samantha blocked the door from opening and checked all the stalls. She’d need privacy for this. First she put the money in the diapered vending machine and pressed the buttons at the top, for the Amazon/Adult diapers. Three of them. She’d decided to replace the ones she’d sold from Gwenny. Just in case Mrs. Thompson checked and realized the bag wasn’t as full as it should be. Chances are she wouldn’t notice, or care. She’d get the diapers later. Next, she unplugged the machine. It was “Out of Order”, officially. That was her backup excuse. Obviously that naughy baby Tricia had managed to unplug it to try and escape getting changed. That was Samantha’s alibi. Alibis could wait... It was a bit of a jump to get on the changing table, but nothing Samantha couldn’t handle. She felt the warmth of Baby Tricia still on the mat. Could still smell the traces of baby powder and oil that hadn’t quite made it into the diaper… This. This is where Amazon pride came to die. This is where they were crushed and made to feel as small and helpless and embarrassed as the rest of the world. Samantha laid back and snuck her hand down the front of her pants. This wouldn’t take long. Not with the memory so fresh in her head. Samantha almost wished she had a pacifier. It might be nice to have something to moan into while she masturbated. Instead, she exercised a modicum (but just am modicum) of self-control as she softly climbed into orgasm. Total elapsed time? Three minutes. Maybe four. Five by the time she washed her hands and snuck the plain medical diapers in with Gwenny’s remaining Amazon Baby ones. Such was life for a Tweener. Life was good. For her anyways. ********************************************************************************************** Just after closing time that night. Samantha sent everyone home and stayed behind to clean up. She just finished mopping the bathrooms. “You wanted to see me, Ma’am?” Samantha asked before she was all the way in Mrs. Thompson’s office. It was a strategy of sorts. Sooner asked. Sooner out. Seem both on the ball and appropriately nervous and subservient. Even with all of the progress she’d made over the last half a year, Samantha was still properly terrified of the shop’s owner. Amazons were predators. Crocodiles and sharks. Littles were their prey. They’d run and hide, but it was always a matter of ‘when’, not ‘if’. Samantha got as far as she had by being one of those tiny animals that formed a symbiotic relationship. The birds and fish that cleaned the bigger meaner animal’s teeth. The food chain’s middle management position. “Samantha,” Mrs. Thompson said without looking up. “Come in.” Samantha’s legs trembled. This time it was because of dread. She went in anyways. A sideways glance towards Gwenny off in the corner. She was playing with some dolls on a heavy blanket with plastic tea-cups. A chalkboard was propped up on the wall. It was just big enough to write the word ‘coffea’ on it. Which Gwenny did. Used her non-dominant hand, from the absolute atrocious handwriting. The big baby worked in a coffee shop for no pay, being constantly talked down to...and pretended to do the same thing while her Mommy finished working with the books. Gwenny either had no imagination or the absolute best imagination. Gwenny was a reminder that predators would kill and eat other predators. They’d also snap up the little birds and fish that cleaned their teeth if they were hungry enough or if the poor animals weren’t fast enough to avoid the jaws of death. Samantha’s sideways glance lingered, perhaps a moment too long. Gwenny’s diaper was flashing each and every way as she crawled around and bent and stood filling imaginary tea cups full with imaginary ‘coffea’. It looked clean enough, but it had the same colored stripe and ugly font that was common with adult diapers. Uh oh. The Tweener took a seat on the chair across from the owner’s desk. “Yes, Mrs. Thompson?” “What happened to Gwenny’s diapers?” Mrs. Thompson did not look up. Already? It hadn’t even been a full day. She’d been careful to replace them and put them near the back of the bag. Had Gwenny needed changing that badly? Samantha took a deep breath. No time to play dumb. That wasn’t the play here. “A customer n-n-needed one from the vending machine,” Samantha choked out. “And the vending machine was out of order.” Mrs. Thompson put down her pen, but still didn’t look directly at Samantha. She was an ambush predator lying in wait. “Go on.” “And they were in the middle of a change and so…” “So you decided to help an inferior Mommy who didn’t have the appropriate supplies for her child?” That was a question more loaded than the back of Gwenny’s pants just before lunch break. Most people would freeze here. Samantha wasn’t most people. “Only in the same way that I help an inferior forager who doesn’t have the appropriate supplies for their own coffee…?” She let the final inflection of a question creep in, just so that her retort wouldn’t be mistaken for defiance. “So you sold the diapers?” Mrs. Thompson looked up for the first time. “You didn’t just give them away?” “No ma’am. It was umm... transactional…?” “That’s right, Mommy.” Gwenny called over from her fake tea party. “I got ten whole dollars!” Samantha wanted to vomit. Instead she powered through. “And I made sure to replace them.” “Replace them, how?” Mrs. Thompsons said. Slowly, deliberately, she stood up. “I thought the vending machine in the restroom was broken?” “I fixed it…” Like a snake coiling around a juicy mouse, Mrs. Thompson circled around her desk. Like a mouse transfixed by the cobra, Samantha sat, frozen. “Fixed it and then unplugged it again? I found it unplugged. Funny, because if it was unplugged or broken as you said, you couldn’t have replaced Gwenny’s diapers.” Shit! She knew! Inside her own head Samantha screamed at herself. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course she knew! She should have either replaced OR unplugged the machine! Not both! She could have blamed incompetence on the customer and say that she didn’t know how to use the vending machine properly, and so Samantha expedited things along. Or she could have not replaced the diapers and pretended she didn’t know that the damn thing was unplugged. She would have gotten flack for it, probably a not-quite empty threat, but such an oversight could be overlooked. She was a Tweener. She had a bit of Little in here. These things could happen. It was almost like...almost like... “Really,” Mrs. Thompson said, “it’s almost like you wanted to get caught…” Giant hands began to reach down for the Tweener. “Men’s room.” The whisper came out of Samantha so fast and so quiet that Samantha barely heard it herself.. “I got those out of the machine in the men’s room. After the customer left. When there was no one else there.” They stopped. “Beg pardon?” The lie came so naturally to Samantha. “Replacement diapers. Men’s room. I paid Gwenny for her diapers. Gave some to the customer, and then replaced them with some from the men’s room machine when no one was in there.” It was amazing what a natural shot of adrenaline could do for the brain. “I didn’t think to see if the ladies’ room was plugged in. I didn’t want to question the customer!” The men’s room saw just about as much foot traffic as the ladies’ room, but not nearly as much as the new changing traffic. Daddies would bring in their Little boys and Little girls, sure enough, but the vending machine was about as unused as ever. Diaper vendors weren’t supposed to see as much use in general. Most parents had a fully stocked bag, with the machine in case of unexpected blowouts and such. But with the uptick Amazon on Amazon punishment, most weren’t prepping far enough ahead to have a fully stocked bag. And for whatever reason, the ones doing the diapering were disproportionately women. The men’s changing vendor could be full to bursting or derelict. Samantha was gambling that not even Mrs. Thompson knew. “Clever girl.” Mrs. Thompson said. “Almost too clever.” She shouldn’t have, she knew, but the Tweener felt herself relax a tiny bit. In a weird way she took the remark as a compliment. “Thank you.” “Are they your diapers?” Samantha jolted. “What?” “Are they your diapers?” the owner repeated. “To give away? To sell? To trade? Did you pay for them? Were they gifted to you?” More fear. More panic. “Gwenny said it’d be-!” “They’re not Gwenny’s to give away! She’s a BABY!” Samantha could feel the intense heat radiating off the older Amazon. “She has no say about her diapers. They are hers only in that she wears them, just like you’re a manager only in that I pay you to be! I pay for them! I say how they are to be used and who they are to be used by. Is that clear?!” Samantha’s reply came out as a most pitiful squeak. “Yes Ma’am. Sorry Ma’am.” “Good. Now get up and bend over.” The everything rushed away from Samantha’s face. Color. Blood. Heat. Everything. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, you bratty little girl.” Mrs. Thompson said. “Stand up and bend over across the chair, or you're fired.” She might as well have been stating the law of gravity, her voice was so definite. “But...but!” “You stole from me. I can forgive it because of the good intentions and the lack of evidence to the contrary...” she paused. “But you still deserve a lesson.” Samantha wanted to swallow her own tongue. This is how it started. This is how it always seemed to start. That or just being snatched up. “But-” “Your choice. Admit you made a mistake and bend over, or admit you’re lying to me and be fired.” “I’m not a…” Alarm bells! Don’t say the B-word around the Amazons. “I’m an adult!” “That’s why you’re getting a choice.” Mrs. Thompson said, her hands on her hips. “Would you like to lose that choice and go over my knee?” She should quit. Samantha knew she should quit. She should just politely say that she was keeping what small morsel of dignity she had left, walked out, cried into her computer at home and started job hunting tomorrow. She’d already hung up her apron for the night. It would be easy enough to find a new job. Amazons liked having a Tweener or two around to boss around. To boss around. She’d be starting back from the bottom. And there were very few jobs around here that let a Tweener advance. None of her friends her size had a management position. And rent was coming due. The uptick in pay she’d received had only resulted in an uptick in spending habits. She had nothing saved yet. Samantha needed this job. The young woman steeled herself. She turned around. Closed her eyes, and bent over the chair, gripping onto the far legs to brace herself. “Pants and underwear down.” Samantha’s eyes shot wide and she suppressed a question or an exclamation. If she spoke up it’d just escalate. Best to just take the licks and pretend this had never happened tomorrow. Mrs. Thompson probably had a paddle somewhere around here, just waiting to be swung. She did as she was told. And looked back down. This was better than most Littles got, she told herself. This would hurt (and it was going to hurt), but at least she could brace herself and stare at a wall. Littles had to look their tormentor’s in the eye when they were being violated. Better bent over than on her back. Fire! A thousand massive flames enveloped her backside. This hurt! More than she could have prepared for! It did more than sting! The blow rocketed all the way through her spine! Again! More pain! Torture! The kind that could drive someone insensate! Ritualistic pain! Exquisite pain. When an animal bit you it was to kill or else get away. This pain served no such purpose. Pain for the sake of pain! A third blow! And a fourth in rapid succession! Still, Samantha did not scream. She did not cry. The breath was all but knocked out of her from the first blow and she had to inhale in gasping little bursts through her nose. She was too afraid to open her mouth. Don’t cry. Don’t be bawl. Don’t wail. Don’t be like the Littles and the disgraced Amazons who ended up on the changing table. Finally, on the fifth blow, Samantha let out a noise. It was entirely involuntary. Less a scream and more of a grunt; her body’s automatic response of needing to exhale rapidly but lacking the capacity to get it all out through her nose, her vocal chords rattled instead. Her mouth stayed closed. It was more a hum of pain than a cry. But it was seemingly enough. “You’re done.” Samantha stood up. Her head was spinning, her brain buzzing. To counter the pain, her body was releasing adrenaline and endorphins (were those even separate things…? She couldn’t think clearly). Her whole body shook even as the tenderness of bruises was starting to form. “Thank you…” she whispered. “What was that?” It had less of the angry matronly tone Mrs. Thompson adopted, and more of a slightly bewildered tone. “Nothing…” The giant’s hand maneuvered underneath Samanth’s chin and made her look up. “No. What did you say?” “I said...thank you.” “For what?” Mrs. Thompson seemed confused. Samantha wasn’t entirely sure what to say either. “For letting me keep my job.” Mrs. Thompson blinked. A tinge of disappointment in her face. “You’re welcome.” The way her upper lip curled up a bit made Samantha think she didn’t quite mean it. Remembering herself, Samantha hunched over and started to pull her pants back up. Two giant fingers hooked themselves in the waistline, halting her. “Hold on.” Mrs. Thompson said. “What’s this?” “What’s wha-?” Samantha stopped and looked down between her legs. A spot. The tiniest bit of discoloration on her otherwise pristine underwear. A bit of off blue, in a field all but absorbed and evaporated by the cotton. Something even she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t already known what to look for. “Did someone have an...accident?” Amazons must have blacklight vision! The owner’s face twisted into an almost euphoric yet sinister grin. A junkie was getting her fix. The cat just realized that the bird cage was open. The Tweener fell all over herself, tumbling to the floor and yanking her underwear back over her, clutching it like a life raft. “Mrs. Thompson!” She squeaked. “It’s not what you think! I didn’t pee myself! I...I…” “Oh I know what you did to yourself, young lady. The real question is ‘when’? Did you spend all day in dirty panties? A bit of big girl fun before bed and you couldn’t even be bothered to change when you got up?” “No!” “So you did this while at work? Very naughty!” She reached down, her hands aiming for Samantha’s pants. “I know just what to do with naughty girls.” “Oooooooooo!” Now Gwenny was adding in her two cents. NO! NO! Not like this! “Mrs. Thompson!” Samantha begged. “Please! Mercy!” The hands froze. Something else clicked in the big woman’s face. She stopped. She stood up straight, her back stiff and her eyes only half open. “Mercy?” she said. “Mercy?” Samantha shifted her hips and shimmied her pants back up herself. Not standing. Not daring to look away. “Yes, please!” A smirk. “Very well. You may go. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” A pause. “If you decide to show up...in clean panties.” The Tweener woman had nothing else she could say. She couldn’t even manage a ‘Yes, Ma’am’ or a ‘Thank you’. Or a scream or a panicked shudder. She just ran out of the office, out the door, and to her car, praying that Mrs. Thompson or her baby weren’t on her heels. ********************************************************************************** “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Thompson?” Samantha did not look at her employer’s face. She just stared at her sneakers, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to flee. She shouldn’t even be here. In a just world, she’d have quit. In a just world, she’d have been fired. Fuck that. In a just world, she wouldn’t have the legitimate fear of being spanked and then babied by her employer. The world wasn’t just. “I have a gift for you.” Mrs. Thompson said. She held out the package expectantly until Samantha looked up and took it. “You’re welcome.” Samantha stared at the package: “Bloomerz” Samantha read the package aloud. “For Tweeners and Amazons potty training late. Now, with fade when wet designs and easy open sides.” She gulped. “Diapers?” It was very difficult to tell the difference between Littles, Tweeners, and Amazons without a decent sense of scale. That definitely wasn’t a child model on the front, grinning in her pink shirt and matching padding. “Disposable training pants,” Mrs. Thompson corrected. “The kind that you can pull up and on all by yourself.” She rotated the package and pointed to a diagram on the back. “With a clothlike cover and decorations, just like big kid underwear. Isn’t that wonderful?” “Um…” Samantha knew she had to couch her response very carefully. “I appreciate the thought. Thank you.” She took a half step back. “I should start prepping…” “Put them on.” It was not a request. “Excuse me?” Samantha had heard the command. Her brain just didn’t dare process it. No wiggle room was being given. “You can put them on like a big girl,” the owner repeated. “Or I can put you in something else.” Samantha felt her jaw go slack. “I’ll not have my manager walking around in dirty panties for hours at a time.” Her glare intensified. “Or doing naughty things in public.” The Tweener’s face sank. She shouldn’t have come in today. She might be able to run out now if she bolted and didn’t slow down. Did she lock her car or leave it open? She wouldn’t be able to outrun an Amazon if she had to waste those precious few seconds unlocking her car. “You still are my store manager, aren’t you? Still my big girl?” Something about that phrasing did something to Samantha. She was being condescended to and given a compliment at the same time; as much as an Amazon tended to compliment one such as her. “Do you need my help?” “Can I do it in private?” Samantha asked. “How would I know you did it then? That I can trust you?” The (for now it seemed) Manager gulped. “I meant, can I do it without Gwenny here?” Gwenny looked up from her dolls, still sucking on a pacifier to keep her quiet. “You don’t have anything Gwenny hasn’t already seen.” Samantha shuddered. To have been spanked in front of the woman she’d surpassed, that had arguably been the worst part. “Am I still being punished?” she asked. “No,” Mrs. Thompson lied. “These are just to help you. Remind you. Just because you’re not being punished doesn’t mean you’ve earned trust.” Samantha looked back towards Gwenny. “Then I’d like some privacy, please.” She said. “No babies.” Her throat was forming a lump, and she couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or anger. “I understand modesty.” Gwenny’s face collapsed around her dummy. Perhaps the girl had a smidgen of pride left in her, despite the number of times she’d been changed in public. The expression doubled over when Mrs. Thompson said. “Gwenny, go set up your serving station.” “But Mommy-!” Gwenny whined. “No buts,” her Mommy interrupted. “Or are you also a bad girl that gets naughty seeing her friends get embarrassed?” Scarlet rose to Samantha’s cheeks. Mrs. Thompson had guessed certain motivations. Was she that easy to read? Or was her boss guessing her motivations so easily because she had them herself. It would explain a lot. With the quietest huff, Gwenny crinkled out of the office, mumbling pseudo-obscenities around her pacifier. “There,” Mrs. Thompson ripped open the package of pull-ups. “No more stalling. Gwenny should only be left alone for so long. Get to it, missy.” It was like being at the doctor’s office. Or the hospital. It was just changing into a hospital gown, metaphorically speaking. Just kick off her shoes, drop her pants and underwear, and slip on the new garment. It was a bit like a maxi pad, this new Pull-Up. A bit thicker, but not too terribly much. Certainly not as bad as a diaper. She went to get her pants, but Mrs. Thompson reached out and snatched them. Oh no...please no! “But-!” “You’ll get to wear them.” Mrs. Thompson said. “I just want your attention first.” Samantha froze. “You’re a big girl, but you’re going to be wearing these just in case…” The Amazon didn’t specify ‘just in case what’. “And because you’ve been naughty in my store, you’re going to need permission to go to the potty.” Images of her co-workers -mostly Amazons and a handful of Tweeners- the people she was supposed to be giving order to holding the permission over her, “Permission from whom?” Gwenny wouldn’t think to. A few of the others might just tell her to hold it for spite. Then she’d end up peeing herself, then she’d end up just like Gwenny. Just. Like. Gwenny. “Mine, of course.” The owner said. “And I’ll be watching you. Making sure you don’t have any accidents.” Samantha grit her teeth. “And what if I have an...accident?” Better to ask now. Amazons had a habit of making up the rules as they went along, but they tended to stick to rules that they’d already made up. Best to know the rules now. “That depends.” Mrs. Thompson said. “Are you a big girl, or a baby?” Samantha didn’t answer. She didn’t like that ‘adult’ wasn’t a given option. “If you’re a big girl you’ll come tell me right away. Accidents can be forgiven. But if you try and hide it from me, I’m going to assume you’re either too immature to be a big girl, or that you generally don’t know what’s going on inside your pants. In which case…” She let the threat just hang there, before handing Samantha her pants back. She kept the panties, though. “Yes, Ma’am…” The Tweener didn’t even ask who would be monitoring. Back when she had been Gwendolyn, Gwenny had had a keen eye for detail, and would watch the Littles she casually poisoned like a hawk. Even in her reduced status, Gwenny still had that skill set. Most of the mush still ended up in her diaper instead of her brain. Samantha pulled her pants back over the training panties. It wasn’t too bad. There was a bit of a lump around her groin where none had existed, but it was the kind of thing that someone only noticed if they were looking for it. It’d be doubly hard to notice as long as she kept her shirt untucked and her apron on. Super easy. “Oh, and one more thing.” Mrs. Thompson said. “I’m going to expand your responsibilities.” Uh oh. “Yes?” “As manager, it’s going to be your specific job to help any and all of our clients with changing their little ones. Make sure they’ve got the appropriate supplies. Offer to hold or hand things to them. Change them yourself if they ask you to. You’ll be an attendant of sorts.” Samantha’s jaw had yet to unclench. “And if they ask me to leave?” “Then leave, of course. But if they don’t, you make sure you’re there. Watch them. Make sure everything is cleaned up properly in the aftermath, and ready for the next one. That kind of thing.” Images of Baby Tricia and Baby Becky and Baby Gwenny. “And the babies that are bigger than me?” The idea still excited her, and that terrified the Tweener. “Especially the babies that are bigger than you.” This was going to be a loooooong shift. ************************************************************************************************** It wasn’t quite two and a half hours in when the first hammer dropped. “Okay, Manny,” Samantha said. “You take orders, and I’ll make them Gwenny, keep passing them out.” There was a bit of a lull, and most of the customers were now idly sitting, sipping their coffee. Manny was coated in a light drizzle of his sweat from the heat of the machines and the pace he’d been forced to work. Morning rush was always a bitch. It was necessary for him to man the crafting and brewing station, while Samantha did the relatively easy job of taking and ringing up orders. Samantha was no Little, but she still needed a footstool to reach the highest shelves and ingredients. Manny was the wiser choice for the rush. A place scaled to Amazon (pretty much every place) worked best with Amazons running it. That and Samantha really was better working the register. Mrs. Thompson had run the numbers a while ago and found that Amazons tended to buy the more expensive stuff when Samantha was manning the register and taking orders. The Tweener was the master of the upsell. The big people tended to take her recommendations as a kind of challenge. Of course they’d get the next size up for only fifty cents, instead. They could afford that much. They could drink that much. Obviously, they’d get a pastry for two dollars extra. Did she, a not-quite-adult think they were too poor or too fat to merit a croissant or blueberry muffin? (Never did Samantha ever suggest that, but Amazons could be oddly insecure around the smaller folk. Big World Problems.) Now that the rush was well and over, Samantha could afford to dawdle a bit and take her turn. Give Manny a break. She traded places with him, and the slight rustling of the pull-up sounded like a dentists’ drill in her brain. The rush had been busy enough that Samantha almost forgot this morning...almost. Just as they were switching and Manny was wiping his brow, Mrs. Thompson came out of her office and to the counter. “Okay, Samantha. It’s time.” So much for the blessing of forgetfulness. “Time?” “Time to go potty, dear. It’s been almost three hours, and I didn’t make you go first thing this morning.” Samantha felt Manny’s eyes. The customers’ too. “But. I don’t have to go!” This was partially true. Samantha’s bladder definitely had something in it, but it was far from bursting. Like hunger, answering nature’s call was something that came in degrees that varied based on space and other distracting stimuli. The constant taking of orders, making change, and swiping credit cards had easily distracted her from the need to urinate along with the thoughts of what she might be forced to urinate into. Much in the same way that someone could eat, the Tweener could pee. But she was nowhere near starving or bursting. Mrs. Thompson walked behind the counter and took Samantha by the wrist. “Just try for me, big girl.” With her other hand she undid the young lady’s apron. That got a muffled, grunting laugh from Manny. The kind of snorting laughter that sounded a bit like radio static. “Heh.” “Something funny, Manny?” Manny’s eyes widened. “No, Mrs. Thompson.” “Good. Handle the counter.” Mrs. Thompson didn’t look back on her way to the bathroom. “Time for your potty break.” Samantha did. Manny was looking at her. So were the customers. Heads were cocked. Eyes were squinted. A few were nodding in tacit approval. It was mostly in her head, she was sure, but for some reason the relatively discreet pull-up felt a lot more like a puffy, bulky, bulging diaper, one that made her pants seem that much smaller by comparison. It was in her head. But they knew. They knew… Mrs. Thompson opened the bathroom door. Samantha held her breath and only released it when the old wooden wedge didn’t prop the door open. The nearest stall was already open. Samantha waddled...no...walked...just walked into it. She’d only just turned around when the Amazon hooked her fingers into the sides of her pants. In one fluid motion, both her pants and her not-quite underwear were down to her ankles. Samantha inhaled for a gasp, and by time she’d exhaled, she was lifted and sat down on the toilet. She had no trouble sitting herself on the toilet, but the act surprised her, bringing back long forgotten memories from when she was two or three. Her real mother had been bigger (relatively speaking), but there was something...just something about being backed and seated onto a toilet as if one didn’t know what to do. The last time this happened, the receptacle hadn’t been connected to plumbing. The owner of the shop didn’t move. She didn’t close the door to the stall, and stood there. Watching. “Go on.” she said, sweetly. “I’m here. Go potty. You’re safe. Go potty.” Samantha looked down at her lap. No choice. Not really. She had to see this hell through. The changing table wasn’t so far away that she couldn’t end up there. The Tweener inhaled, and relaxed her bladder. The tinkling sound as liquid hit liquid was so common as to be white noise in the soundtrack of Samantha’s life. The audience member turned it into a cacophony. “Good girl!” Mrs. Thompson praised. She leaned down and inspected the pull-up “And you’ve still got your flowers! So big!” Ah. That’s why they were called Bloomerz. Besides being a reference to underwear, the designs were flowery. Blooming. That and Amazons tended to consider women such as herself “late bloomers” at best. Not babies though. “Do you need help wiping?” “No.” Samantha took that as permission to clean herself up. Mrs. Thompson still watched her. Watched her like a hawk eyeing a field mouse. “There’s such a thing as wiping too much, you know.” Samantha flushed and then pulled her pants up. When the sound of rushing water subsided, the sounds of tapes being ripped off of plastic backing took its place. Someone was being changed! FUCK! When her pants were finally buttoned back up, Mrs. Thompson finally made way for her. On her best behavior, Samantha was clever enough to walk straight to the sinks. The owner loomed over her and leaned forward. Strong hands grabbed her by the wrists and guided her fingers into soaping up, rubbing and rinsing. “Just in case.” Out of the corner of her eye, another Amazon. “Yes,” the Mommy cooed to the Little boy. The sky blue onesie was already unbuttoned, his diaper open, and his ankles crossed up over his head. “See that? She’s a big girl. She’s used the potty! She’s a big girl. Unlike you Mr. Poopy Pants!” The Little boy giggled and sucked his thumb. Oh thank goodness, it was just a Little. Samantha half pivoted to leave, but caught the expectant gaze of Mrs. Thompson in the reflection. Oh yeah. She was a monitor and attendant now. She leaned into her pivot until she was heading over. Two wrongs might. “Excuse me, Miss,” Samantha said in her best talking-to-a-customer voice. “I see you’re changing your baby. Is there any way I can help? Wipes? Powder? Oil? Cream? Perhaps you’d like a fresh diaper from the vending machine?” “I’ve got things well covered here, young...” She turned just enough to recognize the employee uniform. “Can I talk to your manager, please?” The shadow of her employer fell over her. “Samantha is the manager. I’m the owner, however.” “Oh!” The new Amazon gushed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were her Mommy.” No reply came to that. “Just give me a second finishing up this little guy.” She finished diapering the poor Little man and put him on her hip. “How can I help?” Mrs. Thompson asked. Her hands were on Samantha’s shoulder. “I just wanted to compliment you on how good your um...Manager was doing. The offer for help was unneeded. And she’s being such a good example. Such a big girl! Going potty and everything!” “Thank you,” Mrs. Thompson said. “We try.” Samantha thought quickly. “Could I interest you in a complimentary bottle fill up for your Little one, ma’am?” Anything to get her out of the bathroom. “Yes, that would be very nice.” The woman replied. Samantha caught her mouthing the words “So big” to her employer. Ears burning hot, Samantha scurried out of the bathroom and to the dining area. All the way to the counter, customers looked at her. They smiled at her. The smiles were condescending and infantilizing. Just like. “Good job,” some of them whispered. “Big girl.” She’d been beneath their notice moments ago. Now she was a ‘big girl’. “What are you looking at?” She asked, looking at Manny. Manny smirked. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me.” “Just...get back to work!” She snapped. She bent over to get something from the fridge and tugged her shirt down, just in case. “Manny, go clean the toilets in the men’s room.” Manny kept smirking. But as Samantha kept glaring...he stopped. He didn’t say ‘Yes, Ma’am’. But he went and scrubbed the toilets. Despite needing the prerequisite permissions Samantha never got the chance to ask. She had three more ‘just in case’ potty breaks that day. Each with head pats, smiles, and ‘good girls’. Manny got none. Fuck Manny ************************************************************* Samantha shuffled around in Mrs. Thompson’s office. Her legs were cold. She wasn’t fool enough to come back to work the next day without one of those ridiculous pull-ups on. But the only thing that sufficiently covered up the extra padding were shorts. It wasn’t even a physical cold as a psychological one; it was like how her legs always felt a little cooler right after she shaved them. It bothered her because she was used to having everything below her elbows covered up at work. The shorts were a deliberate choice on her part. Her pants fit well enough, but there was always that feeling that if someone stared close enough, they’d know the truth about her underwear. The regulars in the coffee shop knew the truth, anyway. This locale had become home of a sisterhood of sharks just waiting for the waters to be chummed. In a small way, she supposed she should be grateful to her employer for taking her in and out of the bathroom . A Tweener in training pants was very likely to get written off and diapered. The shop’s apex predator kept the others to the periphery. At least they hadn’t gone about trying to pat her bottom like they did Gwenny’s. “I want to show you something.” Mrs. Thompson began. Samantha made no reply. Other than to walk away, she had no choice other than to go along with this. On the leftmost wall from the entrance, far away from where Gwenny played on her blanket in the corner, a bit of posterboard had been gridded, labeled, and placed at Samantha’s eye level. The left column was simple enough, the days of the week. The rest was just empty grid spaces. All except for the title. “Samantha’s Potty-Chart”. “What’s this for?” Samantha asked. Darn it all. Never ask an Amazon a question that you didn’t want to know the answer to. “I thought ‘potty chart’ was kinder than ‘punishment chart’.” Mrs. Thompson said matter of factly. “Every time you use the potty like a big girl, you’ll get a sticker. If you have an accident, you’ll get a different kind of sticker. When this chart is all full up, we’ll look at it together and have a discussion about where to go from there.” There was the barest hint of relief in Samantha’s brain because of that phrasing. Had the older woman said ‘When this is filled up, you’ll be all-done potty training,’ it might have set Samantha more on guard. Words like ‘all done’ didn’t always mean progression where Amazons were concerned. On the floor was a small book of stickers. The Amazon knelt down, and peeled a few off. “Let’s see,” she said. “Yesterday, you went to the potty four times at work with no accidents.” She put four smiley faces on the chart. “Did you have any accidents at home?” “N…!” Samantha stopped herself from blurting out. That would only make her feel more guilty. “No.” She said in a more subdued tone of voice. Then added, “Ma’am” for good measure. “How many times did you go potty at home?” Fuck! Samantha hadn’t counted. Why would she have? After she’d gotten home she tossed the damn pull-up into the garbage, and stayed in her clothes just long enough for the pizza to arrive. Then she poured herself some wine and masturbated out of stress and boredom. She didn’t go looking on her computer, fearing it would be traced. Someone looking for diapered Amazons might get listed somewhere. Either as a pervert or a seditionist. Besides, no amount of acting could replace the crushed look of desperation in an Amazon’s eyes as they were forced to suck on a bottle. She’d literally beat off to the thought of Amazonian tears. “I believe you. We’ll just give you an extra one.” The Amazon put the sticker on. “No accidents at night? You didn’t wet the bed?” Samantha remained mute and shook her head. She did not get another smiley face for the reply. “Are those the same pull-ups you wore yesterday?” “No, Ma’am.” She’d been forced to take the remaining pack of Bloomerz home with her. It had stayed at the foot of her bed with a towel tossed over it until this morning. Without asking, Mrs. Thompsons pulled down Samantha’s baggy pants, and her eyeballs stared directly between the Tweener’s legs. “Hmm…” she mused. “Daffodils instead of Roses. Okay. That is a different pair than yesterday But how do I know this is only the second you’ve worn? No naughty accidents at home?” The mention of the word ‘naughty’ made Samantha blush. The answer raced out of Samantha. “You could count the number of pull-ups left in the pack,” she suggested. Damn it! Why was she helping? By all laws and common sense, her boss’s dominion over her ended when she stepped out of the shop and went back home. If this was a penalty for the other day, that was fine, but the punishment stopped when she was off the clock. Didn’t it? The Amazon reached into the brown paper bag Samantha had hidden the pull-ups in and counted them. “Very good! But how do I know you didn’t wet your bed?” She leaned in a little closer. “Or do something naughty?” “Mrs. Thompson?” Samantha raised her hand as if she were in class and the giant woman wasn’t already looking her in the eye. Whatever. It distracted her from the fact that her shorts were still around her ankles. “I thought this was because of something I did to your property, or in your store? Not because I was having trouble making it to the potty.” The owner stood up to her full height and frowned down at the Tweener. “You’re right,” she said. There was an unspoken ‘unfortunately’ Samantha felt. “My apologies, Samantha.” Samantha didn’t ask if she could pull up her own shorts, but she did anyway. Still, she didn’t feel safe enough. “If there’s nothing else…” “Oh,” Mrs. Thompson said. “There is, though.” She looked down at Samantha and her entire demeanor changed. “You’re going to need to be on your A-Game today.” she said. “I shipped out a load of coupons around the city. We should be seeing returns soon.” The Tweener stood a little straighter and put her hands behind her back. “I understand. Get them in with a deal, and then keep them with the product.” “Exactly.” The smile was anything but condescending. “I’m going to check and change Gwenny before we get out there.” “Mommy-!” Mrs. Thompson ignored her baby girl. “Then we’ll join you up front at the counter. You’ll take orders and upsell to try and make up the difference from the coupons. I’ll work the station with Veronica, and Gwenny can help bring people their orders. We’re going to need all hands on deck today.” Samantha nodded. All business. Finally. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll get right on it.” The Manager turned around to leave. “Oh, and Samantha?” The Tweener froze. “Yes?” Mrs. Thompson dug into Gwenny’s ginormous diaper bag “You’re not going to have time for a water break today. I”d suggest you drink up…” The sippy cup was purple with a lime green lid on it. Mrs. Thompson sloshed it around to show how full it was. And Samantha knew from experience that Gwenny only drank from bottles. ***************************************************************************************** Dying! Samantha was dying on the inside. Four hours into the shift, and she hadn’t gotten a break. Not a quiet break. Not a coffee break. And certainly not a bathroom break. Her everything ached. It felt as if acid was consuming her from the inside? The customers kept coming in, and not in the usual slow trickle...trickle...why trickle? Instead they were flooding the store. FLOODING…?! Another poor choice of inner monologue! “Would you like to make your espresso a double?” Such pain. Just keep smiling. “How many pumps of spicy chocolate mocha would you like?” Grin through the pain. Her throat was dry from talking so much. But Samantha dared not even a sip of water. She had too much to drink as it was. Something was in that sippy cup besides grape juice! It was the only explanation as to why it felt like her bladder was either half its size or double its capacity. No breaks though. Never a lull. “Mrs. Thompson?” Samantha had asked sometime between hour two and three, “May-I?” Mrs. Thompson didn’t even let her finish. “Sorry dear. No time for potty breaks. The rush hasn’t died down. You’ll have to hold it like a big girl.” Samantha bristled at the words ‘dear’ and ‘big girl’. Meanwhile, Gwenny’s diaper was drooping from everything she was putting in it. It was almost as swollen as Samantha’s bladder, but the girl showed no signs of physical discomfort. All of the patrons gave her headpats and cheek pinches, causing her to blush, but not much else. Presently, Samantha wondered if she might be able to sneak away and use the ladies room using her ‘other’ managerial duties that had been foisted on her. Follow some Mommy or Daddy into the bathroom. Quickly sneak into the toilet, then help whatever insane Amazon had a poor unfortunate on the changing table. There was even a precedent considering yesterday. She might even be bold enough to ask Mrs. Thompson outright, in a ‘as long as I’m there’ way. So it wouldn’t be sneaking around or breaking the rules. Shifting from one sneakered foot to the other on her footstool, Samantha was caring less and less about whether or not the big woman watched her pee. She just didn’t want to pee herself. No one was changing any diapers, however. Not a single person had a baby, Little or otherwise, in tow. And the place was crowded. If any of the usual public shamers wanted to show up, they’d have to elbow through the ocean of java junkies. There was a very good reason for this. The coupon. After she’d tucked the first two dozen in the register, Samantha took a second to read it: “Adult Swim. Present this coupon and have no children, adopted or otherwise, with you to receive fifty percent off your order. Leave the kids at home and just enjoy!” Leave the kids at home… That’s why there was only one person wearing a diaper; two if you counted pull-ups… That meant that when..if Samantha had an accident, all eyes would be on her. “No…” Gwenny whimpered and frowned. She stopped right after handing someone their iced coffee and planted her feet. Her hands went down to her stomach. “Uh oh.” “Uh oh’s right,” one of the customers said. “I know that look.” A chorus of nods and knowing laughter rippled its way from table to table. Gwenny’s breathing picked up and her hands knotted into fists. She’d gotten used to wetting herself like a dumb baby well enough. But pooping... “It’s okay, baby,” Another said. “Make your poopies, then you can get my coffee.” Gwenny obeyed. From the looks of it, her body wasn’t giving her much of a choice. Maybe her Mommy had given her a bit of special syrup again; not enough to catch her by surprise, just enough to make it inevitable. “But...I…” and it was too late. The mess started coming out of her and all she could do was suck her thumb and squat as the crowd looked on while her pants filled up. Samantha’s mouth hung open. If her tongue wasn’t as dry as it was, she might drool. Gwenny, a once proud and powerful young Amazon, dressed up like a baby and forced to pee and poop herself while everyone looked on and teased her. The deliciousness of the situation almost made Samantha forget about her own aching bladder. Almost… Almost was too much… A sharp but silent gasp came out of Samantha’s mouth as the first splash of wetness filled her disposable panties. So shocked was the Tweener that she let the stream continue for a solid two seconds afterwards. Panickedly, she gripped the edge of the counter, and dug her teeth into her tongue to suppress the screaming sob threatening to well up inside her. What to do? What would she do? There was no way she was getting out of this. No damn way. Not when Mrs. Thompson had inspected her pull-ups this morning. Not when she’d counted them. Not when she’d gone so far as to inspect the decoration on the fade when wet design. Even now, the training pants were drooping a bit from the weight. They didn’t swell and bulge like a diaper, but they sure sagged away from her. She hadn’t emptied nearly all of her bladder, but the pull-up wasn’t designed to hold as much as a regular diaper in her size. Briefly, less than the span of a full thought, Samantha entertained the fantasy of escaping. Of somehow slipping out, finding a corner store that sold Bloomerz in her size, buying a pack with tip money and then changing into an identical pair that she hadn’t soiled. Roses? No, daisies! What flowers had she just watered away? Running away wouldn’t do her any good either. She’d wet herself. She was a lone antelope on the savannah surrounded by hungry lions. Even if she quit right now, the Amazons would just pounce on her and adopt her; call her immature or babyish. Then she’d wish she’d stayed in the training pants. It’d be a tight squeeze into the nearest playpen...but she’d fit. Just because she could climb up and down off the changing table by herself didn’t mean she was too big for it in their eyes. Keeping quiet and waiting wouldn’t help her either. Big girls didn’t just squish around in wet panties and not tell anyone. It wouldn’t take long for Mrs. Thompson to justify putting her in something thicker. Something that even baggy shorts wouldn’t conceal. There was no way out of diapers. Except… “Mrs. Thompson,” Samantha heard herself squeak. “WIll you please take me to the restroom?” “I already told you, big girl,” Mrs. Thompson said. “We’re too busy. Veronica, hand me-” “I PEED!” The words squealed out of Samantha. The whole room froze. All eyes were off Gwenny. Now they were all focused squarely on her. No escape. Just charge right through. The Amazon Owner came right up to her. She grabbed Samantha’s wrist and guided her off the stool. “Do you mean to tell me you went pee-pee in your panties? That you had an accident?” Exhale. Deep Breath. Exhale again. “Yes, Ma’am.” Samantha was sure she was going to have to repeat it. Louder for those in the back. Make a real spectacle of herself for the enjoyment of the big folks. Talk about what a little baby she was that couldn't even hold her bladder after a spiked drink and four hours without a bathroom break. That’s not what happened. With one hand still holding Samantha by the wrist, Mrs. Thompson bent over behind the counter and dug into her diaper bag. Samantha had to resist the urge to scream or run away, not that either would do. She cut herself short, when Mrs. Thompson stood back up with both one of Gwenny’s diapers and a fresh pull-up. “Gwenny!” she called. “Time for a diaper change, baby girl!” “Yes Mommy.” The relief was palpable in Gwenny’s voice. She did a little dip and curtsied. Then she fell in behind her Mommy and Samantha who were already en route to the bathroom. “We’ll be back in a moment everyone,” Mrs. Thompson told the waiting audience. “Just have to take care of a bit of family business. To punctuate her point, she closed the ladies’ room door and wedged it shut. Just the three of them. No peeking. Samantha felt herself lifted by the armpits and dangle carried over to the nearest toilet stall. Down came her pants around her ankles. Mrs. Thompson didn’t even wait for them to hit the floor before she started opening the sides. Too much like the sounds of tapes being ripped off a diaper. Samantha found herself seated on the toilet “Okay, Samantha. If you have any more in you, go ahead and get it out.” “Mommeeee,” Gwenny whined. “Can you change me now?” “You can wait, Gwenny.” her Mommy spoke behind her. “You’re a baby. Babies can wait to get changed.” She looked down at Samantha. “Big girls go potty.” That settled the matter. The tinkling as Samantha emptied the rest of her bladder was louder than the last time. Possibly because there was still so much. Possibly because she felt like she was trying to get it out faster. Was it even possible to push with bladder muscles? Samantha didn’t know. “All done?” Samantha looked down at her lap. “Yes, Ma’am…” “Try to go poopy, since you’re sitting there,” her boss said. “Just try. For me.” It was sweet. Like a parent trying to coax good habits out of a toddler. Then, “You might not get another chance…” Eyes slammed shut, Samantha grunted and groaned, and attempted to shut the world out. No one was watching. No one was here; certainly not a woman old enough to be her mother talking to her like she was some kind of- She was rewarded with the sound of a second splash and the feeling of a slightly less empty gut. The Tweener sighed as a single bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. “I knew you could do it. Such a big girl!” To show what a ‘big girl’ she was, Samantha was allowed to flush the toilet herself and then bent over as her front and bottom was wiped for her. At least it wasn’t as messy as if she’d shat herself. At least she didn’t have to look Mrs. Thompson in the eye. “Thank you…” she mumbled when the last wipe. “Left shoe,” the older woman’s voice called back. “Huh?” “Take off your left shoe.” Samantha did. “Now step out of those shorts, but only with your left foot. Her shorts remained in a puddle, but only encircled her right ankle. She felt lopsided standing with only one shoe. Mrs. Thompson popped open the Bloomerz, so close to actual underwear, but so very far away. “Step in. Left foot first, please.” Again, the Tweener obeyed, taken out of her element. The first foot and sock when through. The leg cuffs stretched more than enough to let her sneakered right foot in. The shorts were just a floppy ring around her ankle, easy enough to get through. Then it was just a matter of pulling the training pants up around her hips and putting her left leg back into the shorts. Other than her shoe, no other article of clothing completely left her body. She might as well have had snaps along the inseam. “And that, my dear Manager, is how you change a pull-up.” The older woman patted Samantha on the shoulder and then walked away. “Wash your hands. Gwenny, get on the changing table.” Samantha went and quickly washed her hands, actually relishing the small bit of independence given to her in the simple act. She only forgot herself when she started to walk towards the restroom door. “Where do you think you’re going?” Samantha pivoted. “Oh,” she said. Her so called changing station duties. “I’m sorry. How can I help with your baby?” A small, more pleasant tingle returned. She shouldn’t have called Gwenny a baby. After her humiliation, it felt good to talk down about someone else, even if it was just Gwenny. “Yes,” Mrs. Thompson said. She stepped aside and set a stepping stool down next to the table. “I want you to change Gwenny.” Gwenny sat up. “MOMMY! YOU CAN’T!” There was a grimace in her face from sitting up in her own mess. “SHE’S NOT AN AMA-...! SHE’S NOT A GROWN-UP!” “She’s more grown-up than you.” Gwenny opened her mouth to complain, but a look from her Mommy made her lay back down. She crossed one arm over her chest and popped the opposite thumb in her mouth. Samantha was almost as gobsmacked as Gwenny. “You want me? To…?” She stuttered. “But you never…” About half a dozen dirty thoughts jumbled together with six more terribly dark and paranoid thoughts. This was a trap. This was a treat. This was a test. But for who? “Go on, Samantha.” Mrs. Thompson coaxed. “Change the baby.” The little security camera in Samantha’s mind switched on. Her legs felt numb. Her face felt hot. A moth to a flame. A bug to a flytrap. She couldn’t resist. She dare not. “Okay Gwenny,” she heard her cooing. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She tore the tapes off one at a time. It sounded better to her ear than when she heard someone else doing it; perhaps because when someone else did it there was always the lingering thought that it might be her with her back down and legs up. “I’m not as strong as your Mommy, so I’m going to need you to help me. Can you be a good girl and help me?” Gwenny’s eyes shimmered a bit. She must have been fighting her pride. Samantha was fighting something else. She undid the tapes on the Amazons diaper, pulling it back. “I’m going to wipe you down with these baby wipes. They’re gonna be cold, but they’ll get you niiiice and clean.” Samantha licked her lips. “Good baby. Now lift your legs for me so I can clean off the mess.” The Tweener was breathing through her mouth, and it had nothing to do with the stench coming from Gwenny’s backside. “Good baby. Now just hold it. I’m working as fast as I can. That’s good. Maybe you’ll get a treat for being such a good girl.” Samantha would never admit it, but she’d practiced this kind script just last night. It was the kind of thing she’d whispered to herself just before orgasm, and it was having similar effects right now. There was no bathroom anymore. The periphery outside of this scene ceased to exist. Mrs. Thompson was only in the back of the Tweener’s mind. “I’m gonna ball it up. Up with your hips. Oops! Missed a spot. Got it. Good baby.” Despite not having a drink in a few hours, Samantha’s mouth was getting moist. Despite having just gone to the bathroom, her pull-ups were getting more than a bit wet. Just not from her bladder. “Okay,” Samantha continued to narrate just as much for herself as for Gwenny. “Up one more time. Good girl. Nice new diaper. Oh, this has unicorns on it! So pretty. DId you decorate it yourself or did your Mommy help?” Even the Amazon baby was starting to blush in a way. “Such a clever girl!” Moist Gwenny was starting to giggle, despite herself. She cooed and gurgled around her thumb, starting to accept the experience as Samantha had. Something about that drove the Tweener crazy. She’d have to go back to work, but she’d remember every moment of this for later tonight. “You don’t have a rash, and your skin isn’t too dry. So I just dust on some baby powder so you smell just as pretty as you look. Baby likes her powder, doesn’t she? I bet she does! Yes she does! Okay okay! Stop squirming.” Soaking She drew the diaper up between her sort of co-worker’s legs. “Let’s count the tapes. One...two...three...four! All done!” She gave each tape one last push. It didn’t make the tapes stick any better, but it reminded both of them what Gwenny was wearing. So hot! Her training pants were now a swamp. “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Thompson burst back from the periphery. In reality she’d been watching the whole time. Like a mother hawk. It only just now registered to the Manager. “Gwenny, you can hop off.” Crinkling and waddling, Gwenny did. “Yesh, Mommy.” Her thumb was still in her mouth. “Back to work,” she told Gwenny. “ I’m sure even without us, Veronica has been doing her best. Go hand out orders.” The big baby took her thumb out of her mouth and wiped it on her dress. “Yes, Mommy.” The diaper change all but forgotten, Gwenny skipped out of the bathroom. It must be nice sometimes, Samantha thought, to have that little pride and to so easily forget such things. Meanwhile, she wasn’t crinkling as much. Something had activated just a tiny bit of the absorbent core and pulp. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. Samantha looked up. “You did a very big thing back there,” Mrs. Thompson said. “Good girl.” The Tweener blushed. “Just doing my job. You asked me to change her.” “Not that,” her boss corrected her. “Admitting when you had an accident as soon as it happened. A less mature young lady might try to hide it or run away. You were a very big girl just then.” Samantha only blushed, and continued to do so for the next hours as random patrons told her more or less the same thing. The sticker on her potty chart wasn’t a frowny face indicating the accident…but a star. *********************************************************************** A week later, Samantha stood in Mrs. Thompson’s office, pretending to examine the potty chart. She already knew what was on it. She had a greater sense of object permanence and memory than a child. It wasn’t pride that she felt, but rather relief. The nightmare was almost over. A full week and the chart had almost told its story: Mostly smiley faces. Samantha had gotten quite good at peeing in front of someone else. A few stars where she had an ‘accident’. Samantha was really starting to get a good read on Mrs. Thompson. No more sippy cups filled with goodness-knows-what to send her bladder to bursting. If Samantha allowed herself to pee a bit into the padded underwear every other day, that’d be enough to slake Mrs. Thompson’s hunger for humiliation. It was enough to give the appearance of potty training...but not potty trained. Also, and likely not-coincidentally. Every time Samantha had had an accident, she’d been allowed to change Gwenny. Clearly, her boss was trying to condition her. Obviously, knowing that, should render the temptation ineffective, but that’s the thing about addiction: Every alcoholic knows deep down that they shouldn’t take that drink. But being an alcoholic means they do... “Would you like to have that discussion now, or after work?” Mrs. Thompson asked. Samantha was snapped out of her reverie. “Now would be fine,” Samantha said. She really wanted out of these stupid things. Then she remembered herself. “If you have the time, that is.” “We have some time. I asked Manny to come in early.” Samantha’s expression soured. Was Manny trying to undermine her? He’d been a cheeky bastard all week. Was he setting himself up to take Samantha’s place. Or was she just being paranoid? “Okay,” she swallowed. “Let’s talk.” “How do you feel about this past week?” Mrs. Thompson asked. “Pretty good,” Samantha answered. “So you think it was a good thing that you got put back in pull-ups?” Trap! “I think a form of recompense for my past behavior was just.” “And what about your potty training? This chart has an awful lot of stars...for a grown-up.” Trap! For Amazons, one accident was too many. It’s why Samantha had allowed herself a few more. In for a penny, in for a pound. The fact that she’d never had an accident prior wasn’t a good defense. Plenty of Littles never had an accident before they were put back in diapers and whatever flimsy logic the giants could grab onto was used to keep them in them. There weren’t many ways to get out of this regardless. She made a show of holding her chin. Deep in thought when she’d somewhat rehearsed this already. “I think it’s a matter of pens and pencils.” A curious expression flashed across the giant’s brow. “Pens and pencils?” “People tend to make more mistakes with pencils than with pens. Knowing they have the erasers makes them more careless. Knowing there’s that safety net makes them sloppy and imprecise.” “And you’re saying you’ll be more careful when you get your big girl panties back at work?” “Yes. Provided that I only drink food and water from home.” Accusing the boss of poisoning her...a bold move. She couched it with. “Since I’ve proven that I can monitor and identify my own needs and hold myself accountable. I wouldn’t want to waste your resources.” Mrs. Thompson bit her lip. A tell perhaps, that her next line of loaded questions had been shot down. “How would you say being back in training pants has helped you?” Truth? It hadn’t. Lie? “A greater sense of...scale.” “How so?” “A greater sense of what is being babyish and what is not. Babies can’t control themselves. That’s why they wear what they do. It’s not their job. Pull-ups are...more an opportunity for a second chance.” “Do you think you deserve a second chance?” Time to roll the dice. “I do.” Mrs. Thompson stared at the chart on the wall. Then back down to Samantha. Back and forth her eyes went, like she was watching a tennis match that only she could see. Where would the ball land? “I happen to agree.” Samantha almost squeaked with joy, but contained herself. “Thank you.” “No more pull-ups, big girl. You get another chance.” She extended out her hand. Samantha took it. “I’d like to celebrate and congratulate you, too.” Samantha let go of the handshake. “Oh there’s no need to-” Mrs. Thompson didn’t let go. “Oh, but I insist. Come and have dinner with us tonight. My house. I’ll even let you take half a day off.” The last day working in pull-ups felt longer than the first. **************************************************************************************************** Samantha hiccuped, actually hiccupped, as she finished her cup. It wasn’t from a fancy wine glass like the one Mrs. Thompson was sipping from, but it wasn’t a sippy cup or a baby bottle either. Gwenny had to content herself with sparkling grape juice from her ba-ba. The dinner was oven roasted chicken coated with panko bread crumbs and dipped in ranch, with and steamed vegetables. Considering the portions, Samantha didn’t mind that her bird had already been cut up for her. Just meant more time eating and less time cutting. Gwenny had to settle for dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. Mrs. Thompson took time between bites to spoon feed the young woman in her highchair. To be accurate, it wasn’t exactly a highchair Gwenny was seated in. Samantha’s feet dangled more than Gwenny’s, but the diapered Amazon’s chair had a tray and buckles that locked her in place. Definitely a custom job. Meanwhile, Samantha ate in a normal chair, not even needing a booster seat to see over the table. Between the two of them, Gwenny might have been larger, but Samantha was decidedly bigger. “Thank you very much for the..” she paused and hiccuped again. “meal, Mrs. Thompson.” She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin. “My apologies.” Samantha was feeling it. Amazon wine was strong! She wasn’t slurring her words, but her face felt sort of numb and she had to speak very deliberately and slowly so as not to. “Perfectly fine, dear. Can’t be helped.” She took a bite of her own chicken and then skewered a piece of broccoli to put it in Gwenny’s mouth. The grown woman was keeping pace with Samantha, but she was much bigger than her. The wine wasn’t affecting her. “However, I’ve been thinking…” The last bite of ranch chicken went down hard. “Yes?” “I could use some help around the house. Gwenny is a joy, but she can be..be..” Gwenny beamed. “I’m a handful!” “Yes dear, now finish your broccoli.” Mrs. Thompson looked across the table, expectantly. Samantha wondered where this was going. “I know,” she said. “Sometimes at work, she’ll be yapping and yapping to the customers, and will miss drink orders, and it takes me or Manny or Veronica - usually me - to get her back on track.” Wow, this wine had really loosened her tongue. “Not her fault though, she is just a baby after all.” She delighted in Gwenny’s eyes darting around. That would never get old. Not until Gwenny grew up...and knowing Amazon Mommies, that probably wasn’t going to happen. Mrs. Thompson took a swig of wine. “Exactly. Can’t be helped. It’s not her fault she’s so Little on the inside.” She reached out and gave the girl a cheek pinch. Samantha took her hands out of her lap and rested them on the table to avoid temptation. Those hands had gotten her into pull-ups… “Babies,” Samantha grinned. “What are you gonna do?” “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Mrs. Thompson said. “So initially I was thinking about adopting a little sister for Gwenny. Someone her own maturity to play with and get some of that energy out.” Samantha clenched her cheeks a bit, adrenaline fighting with alcohol to maintain sobriety. She wasn’t talking about adopting Samantha, was she? The girl was just tipsy enough to find it hard to differentiate between little and Little (it was all a matter of context more than pronunciation, honestly). Quietly, Samantha’s hand drifted over to the fork; not clutching it, but readying to stab a certain giant in the thigh if she needed to. “But then I realized that would only create more work for me. And most people with Gwenny’s maturity are Littles. Daycare? No thank you! And two babies is just too much for me. Then I thought about hiring a babysitter, but good help is so hard to find. And not everyone is as good with Gwenny. I can’t trust everyone. I need someone who is big and mature, but capable of of...” “Communicating with her on her level in a way she understands?” Mrs. Thompson was a lightbulb. “Exactly!” Gwenny spit out a bite of broccoli. “MOMMY!” “Gwenny, hush.” From top to bottom, the Tweener tingled. Was this going where she thought it was going?” She imagined herself, bossing around her former tormentor. Infantilizing her. Talking down to her. Changing her. Bottle feeding her. Tucking her into bed. In a word: ‘babying’ her. “Gwenny likes to be naughty at home, and I admit I indulge her from time to time.” Gwenny whimpered as her dirty laundry was aired at the dinner table. The two adults ignored her. “I can see that. I don’t know what goes through her baby brain, but I can tell she has alllll kinds of naughty thoughts.” “Speaking from your own personal experience?” That shut Samantha down. But then she was lifted up/ “In a way I feel like it may have been a kind of fate, this past week. You’ve proven yourself trustworthy, and you’ve always been a good manager.” For once Samantha wanted to blush from something besides horniness or embarrassment. “You can also follow a schedule. You can communicate your needs. Much more mature than a baby. Very big.” Samantha practically felt like she was swooning. “And since you’ve had a few accidents yourself this week, I think that gives you a special kind of empathy that many grown-ups lack.” The fork was out of Samantha’s grip. She didn’t want it anymore. In her mind’s eye she just kept imagining a thousand fun and terrible ways to babysit the giant toddler. Oh this would be so sweet! “I’ll do it!” Her acceptance was punctuated by one last hiccup. It did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” Speaking of things dampening… The Amazon (the grown-up one) clapped her hands together and stood up. “Wonderful!” “Mommy!” Gwenny squealed! “NO!” I don’t want this!” Samantha stood up, too. “It doesn’t matter what babies want. Your Mommy is right. You do need supervision!” Maybe it was the wine talking… Or not. “Wonderful!” Mrs. Thompson said. “Why don’t we start playing right now!” Alcohol was winning out over adrenaline. “Sure thing, Mrs. Thompson.” Her boss unbuckled Gwenny from the seat and let her out. Gwenny whined some more but got a swat on her padded behind for her stubbornness. She jumped a bit, but probably not because she felt any real pain. Her butt practically had a pillow on it. Gwenny’s Mommy looked at the Tweener. “No need to call me that anymore, dear.” “Oh...okay...M-M-M-” She stuttered. “Marion.” Saying her boss’s first name just sounded wrong. The woman’s lip twisted...not quite a sneer. “We’ll work on it, sweetie.” The big baby and the Tweener were escorted to another room. A guest room, Samantha would have guessed. Or at least she would have guessed if she hadn’t seen it with herself. A giant crib. Piles and piles of stuffies. A changing table. A rocking chair. Bins of toys. If not for the sheer scale of the room, Samantha would have guessed that it was a nursery for a Little. A breathy “Wow…” came out of Samantha. The exact measure.of her immaturity laid out to strange eyes, Gwenny just plopped down in a pile of stuffies and tried to bury herself. Cute. Playing peekaboo. “You like?” Mrs. Thompson said. This would be the perfect place to ‘play’ with Gwenny. “You really go all out, don’t you?” The older Amazon smiled, clearly proud. “Nothing but the best for my children.” Samantha blinked. “Wha-?” “Samantha. You be good for Gwenny. Mommy’s going to do a little shopping while you two play.” And before Samantha could say anything more, the door was closed. A slight clicking noise told Samantha what she needed to know. “Gwenny?” she asked. “Why did your Mommy just lock the door?” The big baby just buried her head in her stuffies. “Iff noff fair!” She mumbled. “Noff fair affal!” She couldn’t have any idea how ridiculous she looked wit her padded rump in the air. The Tweener went over. “What’s going on?! Gwenny? Gwenny?” No response. The Tweener did her best to put some bass in her voice. “Gwendolyn!” That did it. Though still on her knees, Gwenny snapped to attention. “What’s going on?” Samantha demanded.” “You just got Adopted.” Gwenny moaned. “She’s been talking about it all afternoon.” Heart. Chest. Explode. “What?!” Samantha yelled. “But I’m not a baby!” “No,” Gwenny sulked. “You’re a big girl. And you’ve got the potty chart to prove it.” She pointed to the wall farthest from the door. “See?” The owner had moved it. But it was the exact same chart. “Samantha’s Potty Chart.” “That’s probably where your toddler bed will go,” Gwenny huffed. Samantha felt dizzy with panic. “But? But? I…” She breathed in. This wasn’t happening! She was out of diapers! “I was supposed to be your babysitter! I’m in charge!” “You are in charge,” Gwenny huffed. “Of me. Mommy told me that big sisters look after the babies and the babies hafta do what they say. It’s no fair. I don’t wanna big sister! I got adopted first! I should be the big sister!” Samantha’s ears were ringing like a hand grenade had just gone off nearby. She was an adult! A grown-up. Not to Amazons though. Not lately. She was just a ‘big girl.’ “Now I gotta share my room…” Gwenny was absolutely oblivious to Samantha’s pain and discomfort. Speaking of which, it wasn’t completely emotional. That wine was going right through her and the seal was about to break. “Gotta share my closet too,” she muttered. “She got you more of those dumb pull-ups and a potty and everything. I don’t get a potty. At least I don’t gotta share my changing table with you.” A beat. “Unless you have a poopy accident.” The Tweener’s hands shot down to her privates. On one level this was so hot! On another level, she really had to go and was prisoner of a crazy giant! And when horny and scared butted heads, scared tended to win. There was no point in talking to Gwenny. No point at all. She might as well be talking to a Little: Gwenny was either legitimately regressed or just so selfishly locked in her own predicament that she had zero empathy for Samantha. She was drunk! She was caught. And she had to pee! She did her best to remedy the first situation. Running into the walk-in closet, Gwenny found the potty chair and pulled her pants down. Samantha closed her eyes, sat down and let go. After a week of having to sit on a toilet and pee and poop in front of an actual Adult, doing it in a closet while Gwenny moped ten feet away. It was a tad small, being designed for an Amazon toddler, but Samantha could fit. The stream came out fast. No more reassuring tinkling sounds, though. Not until the potty chair had filled up enough… Gross! “Uh oh! Looks like somebody found their first present!” Samantha opened her eyes. Mrs. Thompson hadn’t been gone long. “Surpriiiiise!” “Mrs. Thompson!” Samantha started to say “There’s been a mistake!” Samantha’s pants were off her ankles in one fell swoop along with her panties. “I’ll say. For starters, I think someone needs their trainers on, don’t you?” “No, that’s not what I-” But Samantha’s pleas went on unheard. A fresh pair were threaded onto her legs in a second. She looked just like a potty training toddler sitting on the potty...and she had the chart to match! “It’s just in case, dear. I know you’re a big girl...most of the time.” “But I-!” A finger went to her lips. At least it wasn’t a pacifier. “I know, I know,” Mrs. Thompson said. “You feel tricked. But you don’t have to be. Stay here. With me. With Gwenny.” “But...but…” “But what?” the giant woman asked. “But you want to be a grown-up? How has that worked out? Struggling to survive. No authority. No privilege. Not Little enough to be fawned over and not Grown-Up enough to be given anything of lasting value.” “I...I…” Pull-ups around her ankles and her own urine sloshing beneath her, Samantha was losing this fight. She wasn’t even embarrassed about being in this position anymore. That’s how quickly she’d been desensitized to it. “You’re tired. And you’ve had a taste.” She leaned over, seductively. “I know how you think, big girl. I know those naughty thoughts haven’t gone away. You’ve lost more fade when wet decorations, but nothing to do with you going pee-pee.” Samantha shuddered at being called out so brazenly. “But if you’re my daughter...my big girl...well...big girls shouldn’t get naughty in their panties. Ruins the material. But if your pull-ups are gonna be tossed anyways. What’s the harm?” Samantha could feel her heartbeat in her ears. “What’s the harm of going potty...and then changing your baby sister...then coming back to Mommy’s office and finding a nice quiet spot to get those thoughts all out.” “Would I…” Samantha asked, her voice a whisper. “Would I still get to be Manager?” “Better,” the giant woman hissed. “You’d be my big girl. Big enough to take care of yourself juuuust a little bit. Big enough to tell me when Veronica and Manny and any of the other employees are slacking off.” “Would I…” the Tweener gulped. “Would I have to wear a...a diaper?” The older woman thought for a second. “Maybe at night, after I tuck you in. That potty was supposed to be for my office, and I don’t want you getting up in the middle of the night. But that’s it.” “Promise?” “Pinky swear.” Then her tone deepened. “I just printed out the forms. All I have to do is fill out a few more bits. But, when I’m done. Or,” she said. “You could get up. You could pull your trainers up and flee the house. Get in your car and drive away, keep what little dignity you have left, and start looking for a new job. Gain everything by admitting who you are, or keep your pride and lose everything else.” When she put it like that... And so Samantha said the one option that made sense. “Yes.” “Yes?” Samantha sighed. Why fight it? “Yes, Mommy.” (The End) ******************************************************************************************
  5. (This is a sequel to a story of mine entitled "The Virus" “Okay folks,” the meeting leader said. “Let’s start with the affirmation.” “I am an adult. I am not helpless. I am not stupid. I am independent. I did nothing to deserve what was done to me. What happened was not my fault. I am worthy of respect. I am worthy of being equal. I am worthy of autonomy I will build back up, one brick at a time.” It came out as the same tired, droning cadence as lapsed Catholics at Mass. Which was fitting considering they were in a church. Fellowship halls and side buildings of religious institutions had long been common meeting places for meetings such as these. People often needed quiet places together and share their struggles with one another free from judgment- or at least with such a pretense in place. Alcoholics, drug abusers, trauma and the families of all of the above: Everybody needed a space sometimes to make that connection and fight the isolation lest they despair. Rhyse never much wondered why these types of meetings always happened at churches. He never thought he’d need to go to one of these things. He figured he knew why the churches were willing to host them- free advertising for the J-Man and all that- but he never bothered to wrap his brain around why those sites seemed to be the only option available. Close to two years into recovery and Rhyse knew with all the stale bitterness in his heart why: No other place could or would make room for them. Few other spaces could or would let them. Regardless of the trauma or the healing involved. Floorspace was money and money wasn’t a luxury most of these folks had anymore. Almost all were living on some form of dwindling government assistance. Facebook and other online forums were a poor choice of meeting, since so many of their traumas originate from the internet; that and the jackasses and the sickos seemed attracted to those message boards like their ordeals had been a fun ordeal. They’d met at the public library a few times, but then Stu had had a breakdown and was found in the baby storytime nook with a load in his pants and crying for his Mommy. Abuser, Rhyse reminded himself, Stu was calling out for his Abuser. Presently, they all sat in what served as the old Methodist Church’s primary building outside of the primary chapel itself. It was a large multi-purpose dining and meeting area. Wheel the folding tables away from the wall and you’d have the layout for a potluck. Take the steel chairs and put them in rows in front of the stage, and it’s time for the Christmas Pageant. Clear everything out, and you had a decent dance floor for a very uneventful cotillion or sock hop. Take those chairs and put them in a circle right by the stage far away from the front door, and you had a recovery meeting. Rhyse grit his teeth and looked around tonight’s circle of chairs. Lotta these faces had become awfully familiar to him, but he’d be able to recognize them for who and what they were even if he’d just seen him for the first time out on a public sidewalk. All of them wore plain, baggy, form concealing clothing. Chubby, rain thin, curvy, thick; it didn’t make a difference, everyone strived for the same quasi-amorphous blob shape to conceal the adult pull on style briefs they wore. Women who opted for dresses and skirts kept them long and flowing down to their ankles. People who felt particularly bold opted for cargo shorts that still went down well past their knee caps. That was a tactical choice. The color schemes, the plain and boring printless swathes of beige, tan, white, gray, black, and dark green had been a psychological one. Dark reds and blues were bold and confident choices. Sky blues and ballet slipper pinks were all but formally forbidden. Someone in sunshine yellow was playing with fire. Shoes were simple: Sensible loafers and flats, lazy flip flops and ugly ass crocs. Nothing with with laces due to a communal struggle with them. Nothing with velcro for fear of triggering a relapse. No one wore ties or earrings save for clip-on. A successfully buttoned up shirt was considered a flex. All waistbands had a bit of elastic in them and belts were a no go out of necessity. Zippers were but a formality. Anything with a cartoon character on it, childish or otherwise, was right out. That actually was a group rule. If you wanted to recover, you had to show discipline and commitment to yourself. “So who wants to begin? Tell us about your week.” Mike, the group leader said. Mike was something of a role model. He had fully Recovered before Rhyse had found the group, but had stayed on to act as a coach to others trying to regain their adulthood. He looked like the stereotypical principal in an old highschool movie, with his tied on tie, and tweed jacket with patches on the elbows. Rhyse opened his mouth to speak, but then silenced himself when he felt the urge to sit in Mike’s lap and ask for bouncies. “Yes? Sheryll?” Sheryll stood up and smoothed out her dark denim skirt. “I cooked for myself yesterday. All day. I didn’t ask help from nobody…anybody…anyone.” Her nostrils flared. “Take a deep breath,” Mike instructed. “I was independent,’ Sheryll said. “And I cared and cooked for myself all day. No takeout or delivery and I cooked everything for myself and cleaned up afterwards.” Rhyse felt his eyebrows arch. He’d ask Sheryll for tips later. “What was it?” “Microwave pasta.” “For all three meals?” Mike took on a somewhat disapproving tone. “Yes…” “Was it Chef Boyardee…?” “Store brand,” Sheryll said proudly. “It was store brand. And I threw it away. Didn’t leave the can out and forget about it.” Mike softened and nodded. “Cool,” he said. “Cool. I’m very happy for you.” He offered no further praise and Sheryll sat down. Emerging data was showing that praise for ordinary things tended to have the opposite effect on someone’s recovery making celebration at small victories moot. “Who else?” “I’ve woken up and gone to the bathroom instead of wetting the bed the last two.out of three nights,” Todd volunteered. Mike seemed genuinely impressed. “Interesting. What have you been doing? Any tips?” Todd set his jaw. “Right before I went to sleep, I would remember how my Mommy used to tell me how I was too little to get out of my crib and use the toilet like an adult, but then I imagined that I was telling her the affirmation and all the things I wanted to say to her.” Todd took a breath. “And then that would kind of become a dream and I’d wake up from it needing to pee.” “Your…Mommy?” Mike asked. “Was your Abuser your mother?” “Wife,” Todd blushed. “Ex-wife. Actually, we’re separated. The divorce hasn’t finalized yet.” “Got it.” Another awkward silence. “Who else?” Rhyse shot his hand up. “Excuse me…” “Rhyse, you’re an adult you don’t have to raise your hand.” “I gotta go potty,” Rhyse said without thinking. “Excuse me?” Mike sounded almost offended. Rhyse felt the weight of the group’s stare at him, taking him apart. Words were live grenades in this setting. Shouldn’t have said the P-word. At least half of everyone’s Abusers did something to damage or weaken their bladder and rubbed their inability to go…to go P-word in their face. “I mean….may I go to the restroom?” “You don’t need permission,’ Sheryll spat. “Just go.” Rhyse stood up and verbally retreated. “I was just showing that I had control and was considering others feelings.” He started exited the circle. “Didn’t want people to think I’d been triggered.” He glared at Sheryll. “Or think that I was about to have an accident.” Sheryll blushed beet red. She fluffed her skirt and broke off eye contact. From her body language, Rhyse would have expected the woman to cross her legs in discomfort. She probably couldn’t, though. Even if her pull-up…protective undergarment…even if her protective undergarment couldn’t get so big and puffy as to prevent her from doing so, it would likely still squish; might even leak. That was assuming Sheryll had had an accident. That was assuming Sheryll knew one way or the other. She might not be potty trai…incontinent..she still might be incontinent. Hands in his pockets, and still not running, Rhyse rushed into a back hallway towards the restrooms. Mike would give them a stern talking to about that, he was sure. They were all here to keep each other in check and to help one another; not to bicker like preschoolers. Mike was a hypocrite. Thought he was so big and bad because the program had worked for him. He was a toddler that got into big boy undies early and thought that made him smarter than everybody else. This stupid program didn’t work for anyone else that Rhyse knew, either online, or in real life. Most of the crew there were just lonely and pathetic and didn’t have anyone to talk to. People who missed two many meetings were assumed to have graduated or not needed the help anymore, but Rhyse had other thoughts on that… He opened the men’s room door, turned on the light and locked the door behind him. The bathrooms in this building were just single person restrooms. The only difference between the men’s and women’s restroom was that one was tiled blue and the other tiled pink. That and how with how small they were- just a toilet and a sink-there really wasn’t much point in differentiating them by gender. “Might as well try,” Rhyse said to himself. He hadn’t actually felt the need to pee. He just wanted out of that hazing ritual disguised as therapy. He pulled down his baggy slacks and grimaced as he felt the weight of his pull-on style protective brief separate from him. He sat down on the seat and stared at the light yellow stained padding between his legs. He poked the insides with his finger and felt the squish as if for the first time. It wasn’t even warm. He’d been sitting in it and not even noticed… “Damn…” He hadn’t brought any extra protection because the recovery group had decided that that was too much like a carrying around diaper bag. For a while, it had become routine for people to go to the bathroom as soon as they arrived at the meeting, but that resulted in a line for the bathroom and people doing the p-word dance and then everyone was just overgrown three year olds waiting for teacher to tell them when to go. For half a second, Rhyse fantasized about tossing the flimsy granny panties out and just going back commando, but what would happen if he had another accident? It was enough to make him want to cry and call for Daddy…Sky…his Abuser…ex-Roommate…friend…Da-....damnit! Rhyse sucked his thumb and rocked himself gently until the threat of a panic attack subsided. He did his best to remind himself that it was him doing the rocking, not sky. After much too long, Rhyse stood up, pulled his pants up, wet padding and all, and left without flushing. He should have turned right, but his feet took him left. Right would have taken him back to the meeting. Left took him to where he really wanted to go. With amazing stealth, Rhyse opened the door at the very end of the hall and slipped into the empty room. He flipped on the lights and took a second to take the wonderful sight all in. The church’s nursery wasn’t very big. All told, it was probably as big as the common area of his old apartment. Two, maybe three adults could inhabit the space comfortably without getting in each other’s way. It had a couple of rocking chairs, a couple of simple cribs, a low table with tiny chairs to sit around and color in, and shelves of not-so-neatly stacked toys. The metal changing table was flimsy and only stocked with baby wipes and lysol, which made Rhyse a little sad, but it made sense. This wasn’t an all day babysitting place. This is where old grannies sat and watched little ones for just an hour or two while their parents went over to the next building to hear about the sky man. Diapers, bottles, and such would all be dropped off with the babies each week. Even with the bare bones bum bench, Rhyse still liked this place. It was full of gentle feelings, and soft textures and bright happy colors. He could have done without the pictures of Adam and Eve, but he still liked it. Daddy had been in the process of repainting Rhyse’s nursery before…before…not Daddy…Sky….Rhyse didn’t have a nursery…he wasn’t a… Anyway, the nursery made Rhyse feel calmer. The only things sized for him were the rocking chairs and even a big dumb baby like him knew that he’d probably break any of the toys if he tried to play with them. The crib and changing table were right out, and he wouldn’t have taken a leftover diaper even if he found one, but just being in this place helped to center the traumatized young man. The place felt right. Like it was meant for him. Like he was supposed to be here. This was Rhyse’s church. Against his better judgment, Rhyse sat down on the carpet, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply. He was sure he was dreaming it, but he swore he caught a faint trace of leftover baby powder lingering somewhere. “Get up, Rhyse,” Mike’s flat, stern voice broke into Rhyse’s trance. “You shouldn’t be in here.” Rhyse sat up off the floor with a jolt! He’d fallen asleep! The cold damp feeling screaming against his thighs indicated he’d done more than that. Pull-Ups just couldn’t hold as much pee-pee as his old diapers could . “Huh?” Rhyse feigned confusion. “What? How did I get here? Ga-ga?” Mike stood in the doorway and didn’t move. “Stop,” he said. “No institution would have let you out if you were still prone to any kind of fugue state.” “I didn’t mean to...” It sounded so pathetic coming out of Rhyse’s mouth. “Yes. You did.” Mike said. “You made a choice to come in here. You’re an adult. You have that capability again.” Rhyse walked up and hung his head. “I know…” he nervously rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and felt how pruney his thumb had become. “I’ll go back to the group.” “Group’s gone,” Mike said. “Everybody’s left. Go home, Rhyse.” “Okay…” Rhyse sulked. “See you next time?” “Actually…” Rhyse snapped his head up. “Actually? Actually what?!” “Maybe it’s best if you take a break from the recovery group,’ Mike said. “I’m having some concerns about your progress. I think that being around the others is bringing out the worst in you. Them too.” Rhyse wanted to scream. So he did. “What?!” he shrieked. “Have you been listening to yourself, lately?! I still need Pull-Ups because I don’t know when I’m pissing myself, but I can’t bring extras to change into because that would be like a diaper bag, but I can’t wear real diapers that don’t need changing as much because that would be somehow more babyish! I can barely take care of myself, but I’m not supposed to ask for help! I can’t encourage people when they’re doing better than me because that would somehow be condescending to them and reinforce bad feelings! And to top it all off, when you catch me sleeping in a nursery, you send me away! I NEED HELP!” Mike listened to the entire rant and didn’t blink, even as Rhyse increased the volume with every syllable. “They’re called briefs.” “How many people have you actually helped grow back up?” Rhyse accused. “What’s the success rate of this bullshit program? How many of us are back to being adults?“ In full clinical deadpan, Mike replied, “I can’t help you. That’s the point. You’re already an adult. You have to help yourself.” Rhyse screamed like an animal. Mike didn’t flinch. “You asshole! I’m not even fucking allowed to talk about my fucking ex-roommate who did this to me!” “Your ex is a victim too. The virus altered certain people’s brain chemistry so that they engaged in some extremely questionable behaviors.” “He hypnotized me and put me in diapers! Made me think I was going crazy!” “Yes,” Mike lectured. “Many different conditioning techniques were used. Sleep deprivation. Gaslighting. Emotional abuse. Addiction and chemical conditioning. Subliminal messaging and hypnosis. The methods varied but the results were all the same.” “You’re missing the point!” Rhyse howled. “Why am I here in some bootleg AA shit, living on food stamps, and Sky is free to walk about and not in jail…or in a psych ward? Why is he still getting help and I was cut loose as soon as I could walk and talk again? He! Regressed! Me!” “In your case,’ Mike said, “It’s probably because we still don’t know why he regressed you. Doctors need to figure out exactly how the virus affected his brain and what lasting damage there’s been to him so that subsequent variants don’t affect other unsuspecting victims.” “And what about me?” Rhyse cried. “What about my lasting damage? What about my life?” Mike stepped aside and showed Rhyse the door. “You know what they say about hypnotism: It can’t make you do anything you don’t already want.” ************************************************************************ Rhyse sat in Daddy’s lap, bouncing and squishing happily while Daddy made silly noises at him. “Babababababa? Babababababba?! Ba-ba-baaaaaaa! Ba-ba-baaaaaaaaa!” “Bababababababababa!” Rhyse babbled happily back! In truth, Daddy was saying something much more different, but Rhyse was so little that he didn’t understand even the concept of words. Not so deep down all the baby knew was the concepts of sights, smells, sounds, touch, and taste. Daddy looked happy and sounded happy, so that made Rhyse happy. So Rhyse looked and sounded happy right back. Daddy felt nice and warm to him, so Rhyse leaned into him and snuggled into Daddy’s chest and neck face. This made Daddy get alllll huggy, and Daddy gave the best hugs that made the baby boy feel so tiny and safe. He loved it. He also loved the feeling of squishiness in his diaper and how warm his onesie kept him while still letting him look at his own wiggly toes. The smell of Daddy’s deodorant, shampoo, and cologne clung to him like a special flower that made the baby want to smell and smell and smell. Sometimes he knew Daddy was looking over his crib before he even opened up his eyes. As for the other smells, the ones come from Rhyse, the baby didn’t notice them very much, though being the clever boy that he was, did notice that Daddy’s nose wrinkled up whenever he was about to change Rhyse’s diaper. Daddy’s nose wasn’t wrinkling right now, however. Daddy was reaching over to the other side of the couch to grab something. Baby Rhyse’s eyes got big and wide he saw what it was. “Ooooooooooo!” Daddy smiled and gave the yummy bottle of milk to Rhyse. Rhyse started drooling right away, hungry for the num-nums inside. A wave of pleasure washed over him while the wave after wave after wave of Milk splashed into Rhyse’s mouth and down his throat. Rhyse leaned back in Daddy’s lap, almost going limp as every last bit of energy was dedicated to drinking the sweet creamy liquid. Daddy petted his head and made quiet happy sounds for Rhyse to suckle too. Rhyse made his own happy sounds,mewling and grunting with the bottle while his eyelids started feeling heavy. Daddy shifted him over so that he was lying down, on the couch, his head still resting comfortably in Daddy’s lap. The baby’s grunting got a little louder and his lifted his knees up to his tummy, not even realizing that he was pushing because of how focused he was on literally everything else. The only thing that distracted him from his bottle was the warm sticky feeling in the back of his diaper after his knees went back down. Daddy’s nose wrinkled up. This was the last day that Rhyse could remember feeling happy. ************************************************************************ Sky sat in a stiff backed office chair across from a man in a white coat. Diplomas adorned the walls. Combined with the large bookshelf filled with impressive tomes on virology and psychology and the sturdy oak desk made for a stoic, professional, and highly professional looking environment. That was all just for show, Sky knew. He was smarter than this hack doctor. He’d get more use out of this desk with some vinyl padding to lay on and use the drawers to store wipes and spare onesies and rompers. Get those useless books (which he totally had never read) out of the way and stack them with fresh dia- No! Stop it! Not right now! Much like the doctor, Sky was also dressed for show. His clean pressed raincloud gray suit and slicked back hair gave the impression that Sky was at a job interview. This was no interview. All conclusions had already been reached. The only factors that were truthful were the ankle monitor underneath Sky’s left pant leg, and the police officer standing passively in the corner. If the pig wasn’t here, Sky would have been able to regress this quack back down to size. If the quack wasn’t here, he could have hat that pig well on his way to padding. “How have you been, Sky?” “Well. Thank you, Doctor.” “Still holding down a job?” “Yes, Doctor.” “What was it again?” “I’m in accounting,” Sky said. Smartly he barged ahead and added, “Taxes mostly. Closed system. No internet. Minimal interaction with the customers.” “Good!” The doctor nodded. “Very good.” He opened a folder and pretended to peruse Sky’s folder. “Still taking your medication?” It wasn’t working. “Yes.” “And how do you feel?” Like he wanted to slip the most powerful yet subtle laxatives into the man’s coffee, lock him out the bathroom, then spank him when the inevitable accident occurred, pamper him up just in time for some sedative laced milk once his will had been broken and then put him down for a nap and some special lullabies. “Fine.” Oh god why was he like this?! “Just fine?” Nothing was fine. This virus had turned him into some kind of monster. Or maybe it was something that had been inside him the whole time. Sky shrugged all of it off nonchalantly. “I won’t lie, I feel pretty ‘meh’ most of the time, but considering the circumstances I’d say ‘meh’ is pretty fine..” It was a believable fib. The doctor jotted down something. “Making any new friends?”. “No, sir.” Kind of hard to do these days with the ankle bracelet monitoring his travel and no internet access allowed at his apartment. He couldn’t even have a smartphone. “And the um…paraphernalia.” Poor little guy was too scared to say “diapers” and “crib” and such. Ew…! Was Sky that desperate? “Gone.” A word here that means “mostly hidden where possible.” “What about your um…your acquaintance?” The doctor flipped back a few pages. “Friend? Your roommate?” Both the doctor and the police officer scrutinized every aspect of Sky’s posture, body language, and facial expression. Sky just let their stares wash over him like a cool breeze. “My…” His roommate. His friend whom he had betrayed. His precious sweet baby boy that needed him so and had always needed him before either of them even knew it… “I don’t think it’s appropriate to give titles to a relationship that doesn’t exist. Rhyse, yes. What of him?” “Have you been in contact with Rhyse?” Hearing Rhyse’s name made Sky ache all over. “No. Not since police intervention…” destroyed the best, most fulfilling thing that Sky had ever had in his life. “...rescued him.” “Are you curious about how he’s doing?” “Whether I’m curious or not doesn’t matter, Doctor,” Sky said evenly. “I hurt him and have no right and no business being around him. It wouldn’t be healthy. For either of us.” That was the most truthful thing Sky had said so far, even if it hurt him so. The doctor closed the file. “That’s remarkable. Yes. You’re quite right.” He motioned to the officer who relaxed and opened the door. “We’ve got a long way to go, I think. But according to your bloodwork, urine and mucus samples, your viral load has significantly decreased. How about we take some more and then you can go home?” A question that wasn’t really a question. Sky gave one slow blink to contain his rage. Talk to him as if he were a child, would he?! Sky immediately knew more than ever that he was going to find a way to knock this man down a peg, even though he was still working on the ‘how’. “Of course, Doctor. Let’s get to it.” “I’m also prescribing you a mood elevator.” “Wonderful.” ********************************************************************************* “Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop!” Sky cooed down at his baby, narrating each unsnapping of the onesie with a “Pop!” until the full diaper was in plain sight. He lifted Rhyse up by the back of the knees and lifted up the onesie off the back of the diaper and all the way up the belly button, “Upsie-daisy!” Rhyse’s giggles were muffled by his sucking on the baby bottle. Cute little guy couldn’t be stopped for anything. Before Sky had fixed him, his roommate couldn’t be bothered to clean up after himself or do much of anything. Now Rhyse could giggle, drink, cuddle, pee and poop all at once. He still was a terrible mess, but now it was all contained in a neat little package. A vast and much more adorable improvement. Rhyse took the changing pad and slid it under Rhyse. His sweet boy was so special that boosted his hips to help. “We really should use that new changing table of yours, kiddo.” Sky said. He grabbed a fresh diaper off the coffee table and started unfolding and fluffing it up. “But Daddy doesn’t feel like walking allllll the way into your nursery with you to change you so that you can come all the way back out here.” A funny thought beamed into Sky’s nogging. “Now who’s lazy?” he cooed. “Daddy is! Daddy’s a lazy butt!” Little bubbles of gas made their way into Rhyse’s baba as he giggled. He probably didn’t appreciate the irony, but at least he liked the way his Daddy said it. Daddy. Just thinking of himself gave him such a thrill! With the baby wipes just out of Rhyse’s grasp, and the fresh diaper ready, Sky peeled back the tapes and went to work. “Peeee-yew!” Sky crooned. “Such a stinky boy! Yes you are! Yes you are!” Just like the videos had suggested, Sky dragged the front of the diaper all the way down between Rhyse’s but to wipe the maximum amount of solid waste in one go. Then like lightning he went to work on his boy’s front, and worked his way to the back. His boy. His baby boy. This should have disgusted him. Half a year ago, the very idea of this would have sent Sky vomiting to the toilet. There was something special about this. It was like in the gangster movies when the mafia boss had someone who hated them shave them with a straight razor. There was power and intimidation in making yourself so vulnerable and fearlessly pushing the blade up to your throat. But this was better. Sky wasn’t the vulnerable one. His precious Rhyse lay there nursing and powerless, his balls literally in the palm of Sky’s hand at some points. And there was no hate or intimidation or fear. Only love. Power and love. Damn, this had been an inspired plan! Sky had, of course, read the reports suggesting that the mind altering virus that had been spreading- in a certain percentage of the population- caused delusional megalomaniacal beliefs and the strange desire to dominate people by regressing them and treating them like infants. That was all propaganda from the mainstream media though. Sky wasn’t infected with anything other than love and a glorious sense of purpose and power. He gave Rhyse’s hairless groin one last inspection to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots. “Good,” he said. “All clean.” It had become so much easier to keep the baby clean after he got that special cream to remove all of his big boy hair. “Good.” Half a minute later, the old diaper was balled up tighter than Fort Knox, and the new one was tugged up snugly between the little boy’s legs. He used to keep baby powder by the coffee table too, but Rhyse had gotten into it one afternoon and sprinkled it all over the floor. Lesson learned. “Let’s count the tapes,” Sky babbled at his boy. “One bottom….two bottom…one top…two top.” Four was probably a bit advanced for Rhyse these days. Then with a final “Snap-Snap-Snap-Snap!” Rhyse was all sorted out and almost done with his baba. Sky could already see his baby boy starting to drift off, and felt his heart melt. The Daddy just knew that his baby would be passed out asleep on the couch by the time he got back from tossing the dirty diaper. And that was fine. Some days, Sky was perfectly content to watch Rhyse just dozing on the couch, standing over him and marveling at his own good work and good fortune. This was the last day that Sky could remember feeling happy. *************************************************************************************** “We now return to our post virus anniversary coverage. A world heals after traumatic and strange events. Listen to the stories of the afflicted, their strange uncontrollable urges, and the people whose lives were changed forever.” Rhyse took a gulp of beer. “Can you please turn that crap off?” He called out. The bartender grabbed his remote and pointed it at the T.V.. “Sure my man. What do you want?” “Cartoon Network.’ The bartender frowned. “Seriously?” Rhyse hid his blush behind his mug. Damn it was a good afternoon to go day drinking. He didn’t need to make that job interview anyway. “I meant ESPN.” The bartender barked out a laugh. “Ha! Got me, dude. Got me!” He switched the station to footage of two teams Rhyse didn’t care about playing football the night before and men in suits talking about what they could have done better in hindsight. “Thanks.” “Not a problem, Boblem.” No meeting for Rhyse tonight. He wasn’t allowed. He’d bombed out of the last three job interviews. The only reason he’d managed to get to the in person interviews, was because employers weren’t technically allowed to ask if he’d been regressed. Once they met him in person, they knew. They just did. Something would happen, or there’d be some slip of the tongue, or he’d move the wrong way, or they’d ask about his employment history. And he never got a call back. Rhyse couldn’t afford a lawyer, and the only free legal advice he’d gotten was that technically being regressed and struggling to get back up to full adult performance was not a recognized disability or protected class of people. So yeah. Getting drunk good and early seemed like a plan. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to watch that crap,” the bartender intruded on Rhyse’s melancholy. The joint was empty save for the two of them, and Rhyse speaking up had given him some kind of tacit permission to engage with him. Damn. “Yeah,’ Rhyse said noncommittally. “Bunch of nut jobs,” the bartender shook his head. “Kinda says something about the world, huh? About what isolation can do to a guy.” Rhyse finished his beer. “Yup.” The bartender refilled the beer without Rhyse having to ask. He hoped it meant it was free. “You ask me? Those sickos with the diapers and the baby shit? There was something wrong with them to begin with. The virus just brought it out.’ Rhyse thought of Sky. Daddy was a little anal retentive, but he hadn’t been that controlling before. “Mmmhmmm..” “There oughta be some kind of list,” the bartender said. “Fuck it. They should all be locked up. Keep ‘em the hell away from other human beings. Let ‘em do that fucked up shit to each other, not me.” A sad, soft, but genuine smile came to Rhyse’s lips. “Amen, brother.” “That or the little freaks they found.” The regression victim’s blood ran cold, but he didn’t respond. “You ask me, they were asking for it. Somebody tried to put a diaper on me? I’d fuckin’ knock their teeth out. That’s if they were lucky.” “Didn’t they get hypnotized and drugged and shit?” Rhyse said. He was genuinely afraid of confrontation but was trying to pass off defending himself as playing Devil’s Advocate. “And a lot of them at first didn’t even know it was a thing. Nobody did.” If Rhyse had any body hair left, it’d all have been on edge just then. “I mean…maybe,” the bartender said. “Just seems kinda sus to me. Like you’d have to really like shitting your pants to let it get that far, I’d think. Pretty sure most of them wanted it if you ask me. It’s just common sense.” There was nothing ‘Common Sense’ about what had happened to Rhyse. “Maybe…” “And even if it wasn’t, they’re a bunch of whiners,” the bartender went on. “Wah, I had an accident! Wah I had to learn how to walk again! Wah, I want free shit and handouts. Wah, wah wah! Buncha losers.” Rhyse leaned forward on the bar stool. “You victim blaming?” “It ain’t victim if it’s the result of natural consequences. I say cut off all their funding. Make them buy their own diapers and they’ll re-toilet train themselves and buy and cook their real fucking quick. No more of this group home shit.” Rhyse instantly took a great disliking to this man. “Most of ‘em are living in nursing homes,” Rhyse said. He was. “That’s a step up more dignified than fucking daycare,” the bartender said. “Better than what they deserve.” “Yeah,” Rhyse grunted, pretending to agree. “They’d probably be happier in a big fucking daycare or something than an old folks home.” “Yeah, you’re probably right,” the bartender agreed. “Buncha losers.” Rhyse saw the guy’s nose wrinkle. “What’s that smell?” Rhyse sat back down on the bar stool and felt the warm mush spread out beneath his bottom. “What smell?’ “You don’t smell that? It smells like…it smells like…like…” His eyes widened in recognition. This was his last job interview all over again. You!” “I’m sorry!” Rhyse yelped! “I didn’t mean to! I hadda accident” The guy looked like he was ready to deck Rhyse, but he pointed towards the door instead. “Get the fuck outta here!” “Yes Daddy!” That’s how Rhyse got a black eye. ****************************************************************************************** Sky sat home with the television turned off and unplugged. It was another one of those specials on the virus, how it affected people and what the affected actually DID to people. Rhyse didn’t want to watch any more of it. It hurt too much. Not because it reminded him of what he did, but because of what he’d lost. He looked out at Rhyse’s old nursery and felt another terrible pang of loss. It was just an empty room now. An empty tomb to the baby he’d lost. “I’m not crazy,” he muttered to himself. “I’m not. I just…I just…I need to…” He got up off the floor and walked over to the nursery “Close…this-” he didn’t fall, but his feet tripped over themselves because of the baby doll on the floor.. “Fuck!” It wasn’t just one baby doll. Sky had bought a dozen. They lay scattered around, the living room floor, with diapers taped on them bought from the grocery store. They were poor replicas of the real thing and only wet at semi-random intervals. Sky had tried buying these as a kind of nicotine patch. It’d only made things worse. They were nowhere close to the real things. Their skin was too hard. THeir bodies too cold. Their diapers too small. Everything was too small. “It’s just not the same,” Sky heard himself say. Then he whispered, “Damn, there really is something wrong with me.” He stood there looking at the pathetic shambles his apartment was turning into. Then in the quiet he said. “I need a new roommate.” It tasted like a lie. He didn’t need a new roommate. He needed a new baby boy. But that was a lie too. He didn’t want a new one…just the one he’d lost. ********************************************************************************************** “Paints almost dry kiddo,” Sky chirped to his baby boy crawling on the floor. “Pretty soon, you’ll have a pretty blue sky and pretty red birds flying around it! Won’t that be nice? Won’t it?” Rhyse rolled towards the sound of Sky’s voice and looked up at him adoringly. “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!’ “Yes it is!” Sky lowered down to all fours and kissed the baby on the forehead. “It sure is!” That got more delighted babble and Sky kissed Rhyse from the top of his head all the way down to his belly button. Then…. PHBTBTBTBTBTBTB! Daddy’s lips buzzing of tummy made baby Rhyses’s entire body light up with happy feelings. That and made both his face and the front of his diaper feel warm and squishy at the same time! It was so wonderful to just lay back and let Daddy push his buttons and flail helplessly around. Life couldn’t get better than this, and as far as Rhyse had remembered, this was all life had been or could be. And he was ha- THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! “Open up!” A voice called in.. “CDC and Police!” Sky popped up to his feet, adrenaline going on overdrive. Logically he knew this would happen eventually. He’d been too sloppy in the beginning. Eventually someone would trace the orders he’d made and his I.P. address. Eventually someone would rat him out. He just figured he had a couple more months to prepare for it. Eventually always came too soon. “Do you have a warrant?” he was already looking for some kind of escape route. But how to get away with Rhyse? Rhyse couldn’t take care of himself on the best of days. What would he do without Sky? “WAAAAAAAAAAAH!” ’Rhyse cried out, confused and scared. The loud noises and mean voices bothered him worse than a thousand loud barking dogs. “Shhhhh,” Sky shushed his boy. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Daddy’s here…Daddy’s here.” Next came the police breaking down the door. And the shouting. And the panic. And the men in hazmat suits. And the screaming. And the crying as they were forced apart. And many, many months of programming and deprogramming disguised as “Therapy”, and heretofore empty promises that either of the young men would ever be the same again. ***************************************************************************************** THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! Panic and adrenaline shot into Sky’s heart. The dolls! He had to hide the dolls! They weren’t illegal for him per se, but any bastard cop could look at them and see that as probable cause for a wider search. Then they might find his real stash! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! “Uh….just a second,” Sky called. “Coming! I’m coming!” He scooped up the plastic headed infants and tossed them into Rhyse’s empty old nursery. The painted clouds and birds that he couldn’t bother to smear over more proof of his guilt. Please don’t come in please don’t come in. THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! “Just a minute!” More tear gas would come soon. And men in hazmat suits…drag him to a rubber room. His blood work was coming back showing he was dangerous or his psych profile showing what he was really thinking! “Just a minute! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! Sky tossed the dolls and quietly shut the door. Pleasanton’tcomeinpleasedon’tcomein!” He put the mask on that he’d grown so adept at wearing. Maybe it would just be his parole officer. The ankle monitor shouldn’t have seen anything wrong with his grocery store trip where he’d bought the baby diapers in cash. And he’d stolen a co-worker’s phone to get on Amazon and ship the dolls to his apartment. No way anyone was suspecting anything. This was just a routine visit. Just a routine… Steeling himself, Sky threw open the door with a happy face. “Hello…baby?” Pale faced, black eyed, and wearing ill fitting clothing, Rhyse stood in the doorway of their apartment smelling like shit. “Hi Daddy…” “Rhyse?” Sky asked. “What are you doing here?” He noticed the black eye. “And who did that to you?” Someone was going to pay for that….Sky was already reaching in the back of his brain for one of those recipes he’d found guaranteed to destroy bladder control.. “Can I come in?” He shouldn’t…both of them knew that. “Yes. Please, come in.” Sky backed up two steps for every waddling, sagging step that his ex-roommate took. “Thanks.” “What are you doing here?” Sky asked. Rhyse looked down at the ground. “I…hadda accident,” he admitted. The smell followed the man-child into the apartment. “I can tell,” Sky said. He didn’t sound disgusted. In fact, he was doing his best to hide a smile. “I hadda accident…and too much to drink…and an owie…” Rhyse sniffed. “And I didn’t bring any protective briefs to change into…” “Diapers,” Sky said, reflexively. “They’re called diapers.” Rhyse’s lips quivered. “Sky? Daddy? Can you change my diaper?” There was going to be a bartender with wet pants in his future, Sky decided. But that was a future plan. He had to get Rhyse out of here. “No, baby boy,” he said though it broke his heart. “I can’t. I’m not allowed to. Daddy did a bad bad thing to you. And if he does it again, he’ll get in trouble.’ “Oh….” Tears started dripping down Rhyse’s cheeks. “Sorry to bother you, then. I just thought…I hoped…I…I…” A single loud sob exploded out of him. “I missed you!” He didn’t mean to, but Sky ran up and gave his roommate the biggest hug he’d ever given. “I missed you too, baby! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin your life! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I didn’t mean to break you!” The smelly, stinky, overgrown baby in the baggy pants hugged back. “I’m sorry, too, Daddy! I didn’t want you to get in trouble!” Sky broke off the hug. “I know. It wasn’t your fault.” “It wasn’t yours either.’ “Well, kidnapping and regressing people against their will is kind of against the law,” Sky said. Rhyse pouted out his lip. “What if it’s not?” “Not against the law?” “No,” Rhyse shook his head. “What if it’s not against my will?” Like a two year old he wiped his snotty nose all over the forearm of his sleeve. “Can’t…can’t hypnotize someone to do something they don’t really wanna do.” “What are you saying?” Sky asked. He wanted to hear it. Need to. “Daddy,” Rhyse repeated himself. “Will you change my diaper?” Sky pressed his forehead up against his baby boy’s, and started crying tears of joy. “Lay down on the couch,” he instructed. “And pull down your pants if you can. Daddy’s gonna get your wipes and a changing pad.” “And a fresh diaper?” “And a fresh diaper.”
  6. Gosh I feel like it's been months since I finished posting Academy I. I'm sorry for the delay on starting this one. I have a few chapters ready to go, but I hope to do a lot more over winter break. Anyway... If you haven't read Academy I, I recommend you read that one first. I don't think it's strictly necessary though? I'm trying to write these as individual narratives, but it will definitely benefit the reader to have some information from A:I. Oh and again. If you want to support me, there's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks for reading and leaving comments and stuff. ~Mia~ ---------------------------- Academy B By Mia Moore "True judgement does not use balanced scales, for the fool’s pockets have been filled with many of the devil’s stones." -The Source Chapter One Bala Khatri woke up to stark, bright lights. They glared off the shiny walls, ceiling, and floor. The room was big and shadowless, stretching an impossible distance. As Bala's eyes adjusted, she caught sight of something else: a person. But as she approached, she found that she was looking in a mirror. Bala was still dressed in scrubs from her night shift at the hospital. She was on her way back to her car when the van pulled up. She had managed to mace one of the suited men, but the other hit her hard across the face. In the mirror, there was swelling along her jawline. Where was she now? A pit the size of a melon sat in her stomach, sprouting dread, demanding that she shout out at the empty room with the shiny walls. To threaten them. To deny them. To appeal to them. To beg to them. Bala was no stranger to the perils of being a young woman who worked long hours and late nights in the city. She rubbed her fingers up her arms and found herself shivering. Cold? Scared? Bala quickly realized the room wasn't as big as she thought: the mirror was causing a lot of the distortion. She worked her way around the brightly lit room until she found a handle to a door, though the door blended in so much it was hard to notice. Bala tried the handle, but it didn't turn. "Damnit..." She fished through her pockets for her cell phone, but it wasn't there. The ID tag on her waist wasn't there either. "My family has no money," Bala called out, the echo of her voice eerily flat against the walls of the room. "If it’s a ransom you're hoping for, you might as well kill me now. I’m sure my organs are worth more to you." Always the pragmatist. Nobody responded. Maybe they were organ harvesters, though - it would explain why it felt like a refrigerator in there. Bala kicked at the door, but she wasn't the strongest woman in the world. She wasn't the biggest, either. She knew her way around a can of pepper spray, but that wasn't going to help her in here. Why would someone kidnap her? Was it a sex thing? Bala stepped away from the door and paced around the room. She rubbed her bare arms, hugging herself tightly. It felt colder and colder the longer she was awake. "Sit down," a voice said, filling the room with a soft echo. It was neither masculine nor feminine, and didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. Bala looked around for the source of the voice, but there was nobody else in the room with her. No cameras. No speakers. Not that she could find with her eyes, anyway. Had she imagined the command? "I won’t," she replied, in defiance. The voice didn't repeat itself. And for the next ten minutes, Bala was left to her thoughts and her own preponderances. Gosh it was cold. Colder with every passing moment. "Sit down." The voice repeated. "Tell me why you're doing this!" No response. Bala took a deep breath and saw the air in front of her nose. Was it really that cold in here? She was shivering in place. "Please... I have a family. I have a daughter. She's two years old. She needs her mother!" Bala didn't have a family. She didn't have a daughter. She had a mom who visited once a week and a roommate she had known for two years. She had a lot of friends at work, people who would quickly realize she was missing. Bala was never late to work. There was no response. No amount of impassioned pleas, truthful or not, seemed to impact the disembodied voice. She shivered, rubbed her arms, and paced the room. "Sit down." It had to be pre-recorded, didn't it? Bala had been trying to time the intervals between the commands, and they seemed roughly similar. But they were so far apart that she couldn’t compare the inflections or tones. Was it a person? Reluctantly, she shouted at the ceiling. "If I sit down, will you turn up the heat please? I'm going to get hypothermia, you know?" Not yet. It wasn't cold enough yet. But it was cold enough that she kept clenching her swollen jaw. No response. Bala did her best to hold out hope for a crack, an edge, something to grab onto verbally. But if the voice was truly a recording, her shouting would get her nowhere. So when it next repeated: "Sit down." She sat down. Immediately, the space on the floor where she sat began to glow a soft red. Bala nervously examined the room, pressing her palms to the floor. It was giving off heat, like a space heater. She wondered if the rest of the room was warming up, or if it was only the glowing spot. And why did they want her to sit down? Was it just a display of power? "I'm sitting now, what do you want?" There was no reply from the voice. It was American; she had figured that much out. And if she had to guess, it repeated about every ten minutes. Would it give her another command in ten minutes, then? Experimentally, she reached as far as she could, in each direction, and found the floor only to be warm on the tile where she was sitting. The room was still cold, but the warmth travelled well up her body and it left her feeling... comfortable. As comfortable as she could be, sitting on a hard floor in a freezing room, ordered around by a disembodied voice after being kidnapped. "Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." What? Bala thought. Why? "I'm not putting my thumb in my mouth," Bala said to no one in particular. "What is this all about? Are you trying to humiliate me or something? That isn't happening!" No response. No anything. So Bala sat quietly with her arms crossed, soaking in the heat of the tile beneath her. Then, ten minutes later, the tile turned off. The heat vanished, and the voice repeated itself. "Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." "No, I..." Bala was smart enough to have a preschool understanding of cause and effect. She needed to follow the directions, or the room was going to stay cold. On top of that, there was the faintest breeze of frigid, icy air. They were making the room colder? Because she hadn't obeyed? The voice repeated itself three more times. Bala found the corner of the room by the mirror and balled herself together as tight as she could, knees to her chest and arms tucked into her shirt. The air in the room was biting; no matter how she tried, she couldn't stop shaking. It was definitely below freezing, and her head was starting to hurt. “Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." What did it matter? It was one stupid thing. It wasn't even that embarrassing, if she thought about it. People suck their thumbs. It wasn't weird. So with a bit of hesitation, she put her thumb in her mouth and kept it there. The moment that she did, she could feel the spreading warmth beneath her on the floor. It was like slipping under a blanket in the middle of winter. It was like a hug at the end of a twenty-hour double shift at the hospital. Bala shivered, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. She had her thumb in her mouth, sure. But so what? The whole experience was exhausting for Bala. Every time she tried to fight, it got colder. Then she was sitting in the corner of a room and sucking her thumb. Worse yet, she knew the voice would continue to demand things from her. Whatever their goal was, it wouldn't end with thumbsucking. "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." Bala sighed and looked down at the floor as the voice gave her a new command. What was she supposed to do with that? What kind of command was 'go to sleep' when you're a literal kidnapping victim? But she also knew she had little choice in the matter. "I need to use the bathroom." To her surprise, the voice responded right away with a new command. "Do not speak unless spoken to." It responded to her? Then they could hear her. She took her thumb out of her mouth and tried to get to her feet. "Please let me out! I'll do anything you want, just let me out of here!" Maybe it was the standing up. Maybe it was taking her thumb out of her mouth. Maybe it was talking without a prompt. Whatever it was, the heat started to vanish from the spot where she was standing. In a fury, Bala went over to the door and tugged at the handle, kicking the tiled walls. "Let me out! I know you can hear me! Let me out! Whatever you want from me, I don't care, I'll play along, just let me out!" Bala kicked at the door and screamed at the room for nine minutes, until the original command repeated itself. "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." "Fuck you!" The room was getting cold again. Bala could see her breath and her arms were covered in goosebumps. What was she supposed to do? Give up? "I'm not going to do it! I'm not going to listen! I'll freeze my butt off before I listen to you again, unless you get in here and talk to me. Or… or let me out. I don't care!" Bala was short of breath and sucking on icy oxygen that hurt her lungs. She paced the room, trying to keep warm. She tucked her arms back into her shirt and shook her head side to side. Stay moving. Keep active. But by the time the voice repeated the command - "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." - Bala was struggling to breathe. It felt like the air around her was full of glass. Her heart was hurting and she could read the signs of hypothermia. The temperature in the room was clearly below freezing. If she didn't warm up soon, she could have liver or kidney problems. With an angry whimper, she sat back down on the floor - in the center of the room - and put her thumb in her mouth. No warmth. No warmth. What was she doing wrong? The words played back in her head so readily. Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep. Sleep. Lay down. Rest. Sleep. Thumb in mouth. She shivered, sucking on her thumb to keep from biting it off, and laid down on the floor. The tile started to glow and warm air radiated from it. Bala had stars in the edges of her vision. She continued to tremble on the warm tile for many minutes later, but soon the heat filled her up. The warm spot on the floor was so refreshing, so relaxing... a haven amidst the tundra around her. Her body began to relax, allowing her aching muscles a reprieve. She sucked softly on her thumb and let sleep take her away from that awful, awful place.
  7. This is a sequel to A Thanksgiving Special, available wherever the best diaper stories are found (like here) and to A Christmas Special (here). Read those first or dive on in! _______________________ Basic party etiquette is if there’s a line for the guest bathroom, you wait. You do NOT go upstairs to use the host’s bathroom. But what if you can’t wait? These are your thoughts as you stand in the upstairs bathroom, unsure of what to do and with your partner not answering your texts. She probably can’t hear her phone above the music and your friends and acquaintances ringing in the New Year, still four hours away. You jump when there’s a knock on the door. “Um, occupied,” you say back. “I know,” says the host, a slight edge in her voice reminding you that you’ve invaded her private space. “Is everything okay,” she asks because you’ve been in there a while. The upstairs bathroom is right at the top of the stairs. She must’ve seen you go in, and there’s a chance others are noticing this exchange. “Y-yes … Could you …” You hesitate, embarrassed already and reluctant to add to your embarrassment by being a grown adult asking for someone to go get your partner because you need help in the bathroom. But you don’t have a choice and ask. The emotional stress is becoming physical as you hear your host’s high heels tapping against the hardwood as she descends the stairs. It’s a long five-minute wait, or maybe not even one minute, until you hear two sets of heels returning before a knock on the door. Your partner’s voice has never sounded so good to you. “Are you okay,” she asks. She doesn’t need to ask who’s inside; no one else at the party would need her help in the bathroom. “Yes,” you answer with your voice quivering. You’re not the crying type, or at least you weren’t until recently; you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself your newfound tendency to get teary is coinciding with your return to diapers on only by coincidence. Outside the bathroom, your partner is asking your host to go and get her bag from the guest room. You hear her saying she should be able to pick it out among all the others because it will be the biggest, and she asks as casually as she can, but with sharpness communicating it’s a minor emergency, if the two of you can use the master bathroom. You hear heels retreating again, and your partner whispers through the door, “Unlock the door, sweetie.” You do and she opens it just enough to peek her head around the corner. “C’mon, let’s go.” “I can’t,” you say with a mix of plaintiveness and frustration. “We’re just going down the hall to Jen’s bedroom. Quick.” She reaches out her hand for yours, and you let her lead you down the hall. It’s unfortunate the upstairs bath is at the top of the stairs leading up from the kitchen, where people tend to gather as they often do at parties. You do your best not to notice whether anyone below is watching as your partner leads across the landing before the two of you disappear from the party’s sight. “I’m sorry,” you say to your partner. “Hold on,” she says, “Almost there.” When the door closes behind you, you can’t hold it in anymore and start to cry hard while apologizing over and over. “I’m sorry,” you tell her, and you need her to know you’re sorry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “Shhh,” she says while pressing your face to her shoulder, giving you a warm, dark place to let your tears free. “You don’t need to be sorry.” “I’m sorry.” “Shhh,” she says and rubs small circles on your back, “don’t be sorry. Never be sorry for this. It’s not your fault.” You feel her hand surreptitiously slide down past your waist to pat your bottom. “It’s not your fault.” That’s how Jen finds the two of you, your partnering trying to calm you down while you sob into her shirt and tell her, “I tried. I really tried!” “Shhh. I know you did. It’s okay. There, there.” She notices Jen, who quickly closes the door behind her, and continues patting your back. “This is why we talked about it being okay to stop trying. It just makes you so upset, honey.” “Is everything okay,” Jen mouths to your partner. You feel her nod in response, and ow cognizant you’re not alone together, you pick your head up and do your best to dry up your tears, sniffling hard and wiping at your eyes with your palms. “I’m sorry,” your partner says to Jen. “Thanks so much. We’ll be as quick as we can.” Rather than handing her the bag, she approaches and asks, “Need a hand?” You can’t believe your ears, which turn an impossibly deep shade of red as your partner declines, explaining, “Thanks, but you don’t want to do that. It’s a big change, if you know what I mean.” “I don’t mind.” You don’t even want to be there, making it unfathomable to you why Jen would even offer, let alone why she didn’t take the out your partner had politely offered her. Indeed, having implied what kind of accident you had, your partner was more polite to Jen than to your feelings. Not that it upsets you very much, aware as you are of the scent beginning to make itself known, taking away any chance to hide the nature of what you did in your diaper. No use getting upset over a moot point. “We’ll just be in each other’s way in the bathroom.” “It’s a big bathroom.” “But really?” your partner asks. “How long have the three of us been friends? Let me help. Call it being a good host,” she chuckles. “An exceptionally good host,” she adds. Your partner takes a deep breath she lets out in a sigh, and while you stand there anxiously unable to stop it, she accepts. You want to protest, to say no, to say this is private, to thank Jen and show her out of her own bedroom. But you know you don’t get a say. If you’d had a say on Thanksgiving, you’d still be wearing underpants … and you’d be facing a much larger and more embarrassing problem. Everything having to do with your diapers since Thanksgiving has only reinforced that you don’t get a say when it comes to your diapers. The point was driven home the day before when your partner sat you down to tell you she’d informed your friends of your problem and how you were handling it, again explaining it was better this way, not having to hide it or risk being discovered and sure that your friends would all embrace you and be understanding, would probably never even mention it. She’d been right about that with her family and with yours, but the frustration with your condition and the sense of powerless over it now had been building for longer than just the past month, and it came out then as you raised your voice and told her she had no right to do that. She spoke firmly without raising her voice in turn. “I have every right because you wouldn’t be handling it at all if I didn’t take charge,” she said pointedly, all the more embarrassing because you knew it was true. “And you do not raise your voice.” Like she didn’t ask when she put you in diapers or when she told her family, your family, and all your friends, she didn’t ask when she put you in a timeout to calm down. She was already calm; it was you who needed a moment to collect yourself and make peace with what was about to happen. After your spanking and the jig you danced coming off her lap with a red, stinging bottom, she let you cry on her shoulder as she alternated between rubbing and patting your butt. You received a loving lecture about raising your voice and how you must accept that you do need help and will receive it whether you want it or not. “You’re leaking right now,” she said, and you looked down at yourself to see she was right – you were dribbling on her jeans. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m trying to take the embarrassment away. You need help, and I’m going to give it you. Understand?” You do, which is why you don’t fuss when your partner takes your hand again and leads you into the bathroom with Jen in toe. “I’m sorry we need your bathroom for this. Just seems much better than using the hall one where others could see me disappearing behind the door and two of us coming out,” your partner explains. It’s comforting to know she really is concerned with your feelings and wants to spare you embarrassment, or at least all the embarrassment she can, and you remember the New Year’s Resolution the two of you had talked about that morning during your after-breakfast change, that you will try your hardest to trust her to help you with your problem. “I get it,” Jen says with a wink, though who it’s directed to isn’t clear. It’s somehow less embarrassing for you to stay silent and let everything happen to you, so you do while the two of them chat like nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk into her bathroom. “Could you get everything out while I get them undressed? Lift your foot for me.” You do and she takes off your shoe, followed by the other, narrating as she goes. “Learned the hard way it’s best just take pants all the way off for big changes, didn’t we hun?” “True no matter their age,” Jen says as she unfolds the very large changing mat your partner found on Etsy. Too big good for a shopping trip, but ideal for making sure makeshift changings rooms are left as clean as you find them on longer outings when you don’t have to to carry the diaper bag everywhere. You step out of your pants and cringe a little while your partner examines the inside to be sure they’re clean. “Turn around for me, honey.” You do, and she puts her hand on your bottom, patting it once and seeming to lift it for a moment before letting droop again, sizing up the task ahead of her. “Open your legs a little, sweetie,” Jen says from down on the floor. You do, preferring to think on the you’ve become ‘sweetie,’ ‘honey,’ and ‘sweetheart’ to so many in the past five weeks, in addition to ‘sport,’ ‘tiger,’ and ‘kiddo,’ rather than the sight you’re presenting or whom you’re presenting it to. “The onesie got a little,” Jen says, pointing to where your onesie disappears between your thighs. “Are you feeling okay,” your partner asks you. “Something not agree with your tummy?” You shake your head. Your tummy felt fine now. And you didn’t feel sick before. Just an urgent need followed by a minor pain as you tried the knob on the guest bathroom only to find it occupied. You’re not supposed to take your diaper off yourself, but you imagined your partner somehow wouldn’t mind under the circumstances and quick stepped toward the stairs, hoping no one noticed. You must’ve been discreet because your partner keeps such an attentive eye on you, but she didn’t see you duck around Jeremy as you sped through the kitchen and up the stairs. Only Jen noticed where you’d disappeared to, and you were grateful she had, if only because your partner didn’t respond to your text after you’d closed the door and finished what had begun happening in your pants as you awkwardly climbed the steps. “Ready,” Jen says. “Wait – are you sure you’re done?” A humiliating question, but you and your partner had learned that lesson the second week of you being back in diapers. “Trust me,” your partner gently scoffs as she reaches around to pat your bottom again, “definitely done. There’s a wet bag in there.” Jen turns back to the diaper bag while your partner takes her heels off and sets them aside next to Jen’s. She unbuttons your shirt, and Jen takes it from her to hang on the back of the door after making sure your shirttail was spared. You can’t help but note the disparity between two women dressed in their best and you naked except for your socks and a well-used diaper. Your partner kneels down to unsnap your onesie. “And gloves,” she adds as she stops herself, remembering your diaper wasn’t quit enough this time. “O! Here,” Jen says and hands her a pair. Mind if I …” “Help yourself, and actually, in the little pocket on the outside are some hair ties.” Jen gets out a second pair of gloves for herself, but only one hair ties that she hands to your partner. Jen’s happy to help, but she’s not going to put herself in a position, literally, in which she’d need to tie her hair back. Your partner takes the rubber band and puts her hair into a ponytail, and you feel a pang of regret, though not for what you’d done; you are already getting over that, because your partner is right and you can’t help it. No, your regret is for how hard your partner worked on her hair for the party. “Sorry,” you say. “I told you, sweetie, nothing to be sorry for.” “For your hair. You did such a nice job on it. Sorry about … It looked really good … You still look great tonight.” She smiles as though remembering in that instant why she loves you, which is why helping you with a loaded diaper isn’t a yucky chore but something she doesn’t mind and even does lovingly. She kisses you, and you awkwardly stand there as she kneels down again. “Turn for me,” she says and holds out a hand toward Jen for a wipe. You do, looking straight ahead as the less of awkward option than looking down at Jen. Your partner uses the wipe to get the hem of your onesie as clean as she can before turning you back around. She unsnaps it and wipes it a little more before saying, “Arms up.” She carefully rolls your onesie up as she stands, covering the dirty part with the clean part to be sure nothing else gets dirty as she takes it off you. Jen holds out her hand to take the onesie to put in the wet bag. After a moment’s assessment of the state of your diaper, your partner says, “Better if we take your plastic panties off with you laying down.” She kneels down again, and you carefully ease yourself onto the changing mat. “Careful,” Jen says anyway, though not sharply. A reminder, not a scolding. “We’ve come this far without a blowout. Don’t wanna fumble on the 1-yard line,” she chuckles. It’s a funny analogy, and you chuckle too despite everything. “Okay,” your partner says as she scoots closer to you. “Sorry you’re gonna see this, Jen.” “Hush. It’s not my first messy diaper change.” Your partner unsnaps your plastic panties, and you lift your hips to let her slide them out. “Just hold the bag open,” she says to Jen and drops them into the bag. Next comes the worst part, and you put your arms across your face as the tapes are torn and that feeling of humiliation returns. Jen leans down and places a kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay,” she promises you. If your eyes were open, you would see that neither of them changes their expression when your partner opens your diaper. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest, something that surprised your partner the very first few times she helped you clean up a messy accident, and she chalked up her unexpected fortitude to her feelings for you. Among those feelings was never pity, just an understanding sympathy. She’s never put it quite in these words, but to her, you are not a person to be pitied but to be loved, admired for your inner strength and perseverance and bravery because you don’t let your problem control your life, and to be cherished because you make her happier than anyone else ever has, the way she does for you. You hear her hum a tune she sometimes hums and that sounds much like one your mother sang you to sleep with many years ago. And you feel her wipe, and you respond to her hands as she gestures with a tap to open your legs to clean inside your thighs. “Okay,” she says, “Up we go.” You raise your ankles, and she helps you hold them up in her left hand while she cleans with her right. “I got that,” Jen says and takes hold of your ankles. “Thanks.” Bored, Jen keeps holding your ankles with one hand and gets a clean diaper out of the bag with the other. “These are so stinkin’ adorable. I can’t believe they make pampers for adults.” “They don’t. It just looks like an actual pampers. Isn’t it cute?” “I love this little lion. Where did you find these?” “Japan. Had to bend over backwards and ask a coworker there for a huge favor to get them, but I wanted these. We’re doing our best to be lighthearted about this, aren’t we,” she asks you rhetorically. “And you really are so sweet and adorable in them.” You blush from the compliment and know that it’s objectively true. ‘Cute,’ ‘sweet,’ and ‘adorable,’ more words almost never used to describe you until your partner put you back into diapers, and you don’t hate it even if you’ll never admit it. After another minute, your partner sighs, and Jen asks, “Everything okay?” “Yeah … just … this is just gonna take a while.” “Needs a bath?” “Can we,” your partner asks with apologetic eagerness. “I really wouldn’t ask, but …” “No no no, not a problem. Totally okay.” “Thanks. Just let me get a little more. A little higher.” Jen tilts your legs back a little further, raising your lower back off the changing pad, and your partner slides the dirty diaper out from under you, using a few more wipes to clean you up before moving the diaper out of the way. “Okay, down.” You lower your legs while your partner rolls the small pile of dirty wipes inside the diaper, sealing it tightly with its own tapes. She moves to put it into the wet bag, and Jen stops her. “I’ll take that to the trash.” “Really?” “Unless you need my help with the bath.” “No, but we can take it home.” “Don’t be silly. I’ll take it straight to the outside trash.” “Thanks. What do you say?” “Thank you,” you say, and you mean it. You didn’t need to be reminded to say it, but you don’t mind. “Really, thank you.” “Big time,” your partner adds. “You’re a great friend.” “Anytime. See you two back downstairs in a bit.” “Thanks,” you say. “but I don’t really wanna go back downstairs.” “You can come back down,” your partner says. “No one will tease you or even look at you funny. I promise. You don’t have to, but you can.” “And if anyone does give you a funny look, I’ll shove them right out the door,” Jen adds. She really is a good friend. “But that won’t happen. Everyone understands. None of our friends are those kind of people.” And she’s right, or none of you would be friends with them. Still, since your partner told everyone about your problem and the solution, they must have surmised by now why the three of you have disappeared for so long, and you’re embarrassed about it whether anyone says anything to you or not. You’d rather just go home. “I know, and thank you, really, but I think I’ll just get a Lyft.” “Wanna go home,” your partner asks. Jen is still kneeling above you. “Yeah,” you tell her. “Sorry.” “It’s okay. And you don’t need to call a Lyft. We’ll go together.” “I don’t want you to miss the party. It’s only nine o’clock.” “That’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m not gonna let you ring in the New Year alone,” your partner says. “You can stay up here if you want. I don’t mind.” “We can’t impose any more than we have,” your partner says with an apologetic scoff. “O, stop it.” “Well,” your partner asks you, “you wanna stay up here? You can come back down later if you feel up to it, or just hang out up here.” “Yeah, okay,” you agree. That’s a good compromise. You rather would just go home, but you don’t want her to miss the party, nor do you want her to start the New Year alone any more than you do yourself. “Thank you.” “You’ve said that enough. Let’s just assume it,” Jen says sunnily. “Need a change of pants,” she asks, addressing the question to your partner. “We never go anywhere without a spare,” your partner tells her. If your onesie was a little dirty, your pants must be too even if it wasn’t so easy to see. “And some jammies just in case.” Just in case of what, Jen wonders but doesn’t ask. No matter. No answer will make her think differently of you. “I’ll leave the remote on the bed. You can rent anything you want. I’ll bring you a snack and something to drink.” “You don’t have to do that,” your partner responds. “I’m the host,” Jen says and stands up, smoothing out her dress and reaching over to turn the tap on. “Here,” she adds and holds out a hand. Your partner hands her the dirty diaper you made, and Jen is surprised by its weight but doesn’t say anything. You try to put the thought of her carrying that thing through the kitchen where anyone, and probably more than a few someones, can see it out of your head. “See you in a bit,” your partner says. Jen leaves, and your partner helps you sit up and step into tub. She turns off the tap with just a few inches of warm water in the tub. “Lean against the back like at home,” she says even though you know the routine, a seemingly once-a-week affair since going back to diapers as once a week, give or take, you’ve needed a change wipes alone were not enough for. She stands, takes off her gloves and puts them in a ziploc bag. You watch as she takes off her little black dress and hangs it next to your shirt on the back of the door before rolling down her stockings and doing the same with them. In just her satin bra and panty set, she turns her attention back to you. When you’re clean and the water has been changed twice, she fills the tub almost to the top and tells you to lean back and relax while she runs a bar of soap from your neck to the soles of your feet once more. She chuckles. “What,” you ask. “You’re going into your jammies after we get a clean diaper on you. No way are you coming back downstairs, are you?” You frown and look down. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I just know when you look sleepy.” “Sorry I spoiled the evening.” She stops washing you and takes her chin in her hand to turn your face to hers. “Hey, you did not spoil the evening because the evening isn’t spoiled. We’re together, aren’t we?” “Yeah.” “Then I’m having a great time. Believe me?” You do, and you nod hurriedly as your eyes fill with tears again. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say as you let out a sob. “Don’t. Be. Sorry,” she says with her gentle firmness. “Not for crying. Not for your accidents. Not for needing diapers. Not for needing my help. Not because of the party. Don’t be sorry for any of it.” “Okay,” you say as the swell of emotion rises in your throat that do your best to choke back down as you try to let her words and kindness soothe you. She kisses you on your temple, wets a clean washcloth, and dabs at the few tears that escaped your eyes. “I love you,” she says and means it in every way. “I love you so much too.” “I know.” She reaches over and opens the drain. When you’re diapered and in your jammies, she sends you into the bedroom while she gets everything packed away and puts her dress and shoes back on. “Where are your stockings,” you ask when she joins you. “In the bag with your shirt and shoes. Maybe someone will notice and think you seduced me and that we’ve been up her getting’ busy this whole time.” You have a good laugh with her. “Are you okay with me going back downstairs?” “Yeah, really.” “Need anything,” she asks, nodding toward the plate of hors d’oeuvre and desserts Jen left on her nightstand for you next to a glass of water and your favorite cocktail. “No, thank you.” “Blanket,” she asks and starts to unfold the throw Jen keeps at the foot of her bed. “I can do it myself.” She smiles, chagrinned. “I know.” She turns back to you and kisses you on the forehead again. “I’ll be up to check on you.” “You don’t need to.” She makes a tight smile, an expression she often wears when you tell her something isn’t necessary right before she repeats herself in a gentle yes-but-we’re-doing-it-anyway tone. “I’ll be up to check on you. Text me if you need anything.” “‘Kay.” “And I’ll be back before the ball drops. You owe me a New Year’s kiss.” “Wake me up if I’m asleep. I don’t wanna miss it.” “Deal.” She kisses you on your forehead again. You’re asleep every time she, once with Jen, comes up to check on you. True to her word like she always is, she wakes you to share the perfect New Year’s kiss. Happy New Year and don’t forget to check out my 2022 bedwetting calendar for ABDLs, recreational bedwetters, and their caregviers for sale now on Lulu.com!
  8. This is a sequel to "human to baby Pokémon" it takes place after my story please read that before this one! Storm the part eevee and part ralts child of Dakota the gardevoir and dill the eevee. Storm always knew his mom and dad where hiding something from him but when he snuck in to there room to find out he did not plan on the punishment he would get. He just hopes none of his friends come over. And what will happen when he goes back to school? Well find out in this story. Storm looks kinda like a eevee and kinda like a ralts in ways he can stand on his back legs looking mostly like a eevee that can walk in his back legs. It was the first change in Pokémon breading with different species and being part humans. But after all the humans where gone this became the normal thing. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1 Storm is a cute eevee and ralts boy a standing eevee basicly. He about 12 years old he's a guy that's very manly and hates anything childish and girly. Unfortunately though he didn't know about his dad's urges. His mom and dad keep that secret from him. But he was always curious why his dad never evolved. It was stupid to him but he couldn't change his mind. But one day at night while he was soppose to be sleeping he hered his mom taking out the trash. He peeked out his door and seen his mom holing a smelly bag and taking it outside he noticed a thing of baby power sticking out of it. He didn't think much of it And shrugged it off and went back to his bedroom. But he couldn't get the thought of his mom and dad keeping a secret from him. He had to know! "ahh! I can't take it I have to find out what there hidding! But how can I do it without them noticing..." Suddenly a idea hits him. He remembered his parents had a school meeting today to talk about his own school work and stuff. But he couldn't go because it was adults only or something stupid like that. He smirks and covers up just you wait till I find out this secret. Shortly after storm fell asleep. He sleeps only in boxers. After all the humans become pokemon and had kids the adults make all the new kids wear clothing because they have more human like bodys. Kinda. The next morning storm get woke up being shook some. "storm sweetheart it's time to wake up" A gardevoir said in a soft voice. Her name was Dakota. Storms mom. Strom groaned "I'm sleeping leave me alone..." Dakota glares. "brat I said get up..." Dakota picks him up with her psychic powers and walks him to the bathroom. He blushed hating to be picked up like this. "mom!" She smirks. "I don't care young man now take a shower you haven't bathed in like a week you reek..." She sets him down and he grumbles. "I don't reak! I just smell like a big man!" She looks unamused. "mhm.... Or a baby that hasn't been changed" He bushes "alright ill take one! Just leave." Dakota laughes and leaves the bathroom. "and make sure to clean everything young man or ill come do it for you!" His face couldn't go any brighter red. "I hate it when she dose that... Thank God she don't say this stuff when my friends are over..." Storm removes his boxers and gets in the shower making sure to take a good shower then remembering last night. "oh ya! The secret... Heh once I find this out I bet I can use it against them to get anything I want!" He giggles to himself excitedly. Cleaning up quicker and getting out drying off and finding some clothes layed out for him. Must have been his mother choice. They looked casual. He threw on the boxers and a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. "alright they should be leaving after breakfast... Then my chance." He leaves the bathroom and goes to the kitchen to see his dad, dill the eevee sitting on the kitchen chair and smiles at him. "hey kiddo! You going to be OK while me and your mom are gone?" He rolls his eyes. "duh..." He sits in a chair by his dad. And his mom puts pancakes down in front of them both. "ok eat up if anyone needs help I'll feed them." She giggles. And he roll his eyes. He can't belive they would think he can't eat himself he's freaking 12! And she still asks this. Then again she seems to look at dad when she says it. After breakfast mom and dad give me a hug. And mom looks at me. "ok emergency numbers are on the fridge and you know the rules no going in to our room without permission. Got it?" He grones. "yes mother... Shesh...." His Mom kisses his cheek making him blush and they leave. And storm takes a sigh of relief. "about flipping time... Shesh I'll wait a while to make sure they don't come back in." Storm sits down on the couch and watches some TV. Half a hour passes before he remembers. "CRAP I ALMOST FORGOT!" he jumps down from the couch and runs to his mom and dad's room nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except it smelled like baby powder and stuff almost like a nursery. But he shrugged it off to old people smell and laughed. He looked under there bed and found a strange box he pulls it out and sits it on the edge of the bed. It's a box full of stuff like a pasifier a large one and like toddler toys. "where these my old toys...? This was definitely not my old pasifier though... This thing looks like it's for a adult... Maybe it was when mom and dad where kids? They told me there life story mostly..." He shrugged and put the lid back on it and goes to the closet and opens it up and his eyes get huge. There's a large supply of diapers and not for baby's like adult diapers but they also had some kinda baby print on them. And clothing that looks like it would fit dad suddenly it hits him. His dad dresses up like a baby. He starts to laugh. "oh my God! I can't wait to tell eveyone! I'm going to embarrass him so much!" He pulls out one of the large diaperes and unfolds it. "I sometimes forget dad's still a eevee so he's not much bigger then me... Creepy. These could almost fit-" Suddenly he's cut off from the door shutting and his eyes get big and hide the diaper halfway in his pants and half in his shirt and starts to panic seeing he left the box of stuff out he goes to move it when Dakota walks in. "STORM! What are you doing young man!" He froze with fear. Not even sure what to say his mom turns him around as he's holing the box and the diaper falls our from under his shirt and it hanging down from his pants and he blushes. And his mom smirks. "I see you found daddy's stash. And just what where you planning on doing with that?" He felt his hear beating like crazy. "n-nothing..." She smiles. "oh I get it! You wanted to test them out didn't you?" His eyes get big and shake his head. "n-no!!" Dakota laughes. Then glares at him. "i don't care if you did or not your in a lot of trouble and as punishment... you will while you are at home will be treated very special for ohh... 3 months." He gulps. "s-special...?" She just smiles and takes the box from his hand and sits it on the bed. Then grabs his hand. what could she have in store for him? He wondered it kinda scared him he never seen him mom act so... Sweet it was almost scary. He hopes he won't regret this. Chapter 2 Mom picks me up and sits me on. The Edge of there bed I sit there just staring and mom pulls out the diaper from my pants making me blush she smiles. "dill sweety! Can you come in to our bedroom?" Dad runs in and his eyes get big seeing me siting on the bed and a diaper in mom's hand he blushes. "w-what are you doing with that silly thing Dakota?" He looked very nervous I could see why they would hide this from me...i didn't know my dad was so... weird... "he knows dill" He almost wined a bit. "I think it's time we had a talk with him. And explain this to him." My eyes get big. "n-no I'm fine! I don't-" Mom glares at me it was scary. "storm shut up you are in trouble... Only speak when spoken too understand me young man?" I gulp and look down nodding she smiled. "good! Now as for all this stuff your dad is into acting like a child in diapers. That's also why he hasn't evolved." Acting like a child... And wear diapers... OK he's very weird... And he hasn't evolved because he likes to pretend he's a child... And mom tells me to grow up...I can see dad blushing and I look at him strangely. Mom pulls him closer and yanks off dad's pants and my eyes get big as I see this wet looking diaper on him it was sagging. I can't belive it... My dad's a big baby... "d-dakota!" Dad is blushing insanely and mom smirks. "alright! Dill wanted like a month where he didn't have to do anything he could pretend to be a child or baby." Dad covers his face and I look in disgust. "so dill you and storm will be my baby's for 3 months! No more adult thing except when storm has to go to school. Dill you don't work so you will be a baby most people in town know already so no normal clothes for 3 months" My face goes pale. D-did she just say my name too...dad sighs. "yes Dakota...but storm too? Why?" Mom smirks. "I'm not Dakota I'm mommy for the next few months. And storm is in a lot of trouble that's why. He broke his promise and this is what happens to kids who break promises!" I could barely think straight. "Y-you can't be serious mom...? This is a joke right? I-I'm sorry I won't do it again! But if I get caught people will laugh at me for the rest of my life!" Mom just giggles and winks at me. "then I guess you better not be caught. But don't worry you don't start school for a week you will have time to adjust to your new life style at home baby." I blush and glare "I'm not doing this..." Mom smirks. "I kinda hoped you would say that" Suddenly my body feels paralyzed. M-my mom just used paralyze on me! Oh my God I can't move is all I could think before I fall on my back blushing this can't be about to happen! "ok dill you first let's teach storm the rules while I change your dirty diapy." Dad blushes and walks up to my mom she picked him up and pulled out a strange table from the wall. It was a large changing table. She lays dad on it and starts untappeing his diaper and pulls it down I look away at this point. I don't want to see my dad's... thing... "aww looks like the little baby soaked himself that's OK mommy here to change you and make you all clean." I blush just from like second hand embarrassment. And knowing she's going to do this to me. "d-dose dad have... Like bladder problems?" Mom looked at me as she put a clean diaper on dad. "unfortunately he never learned to use the bathroom..." Dad blushes like crazy. "why?" Mom laughes. "your dad has been into diapers and I think he just didn't want to lean and going this long kinda messed up his bladder and doctors say he will never have control." What do they mean by into them? Like he just enjoys them? Weird... I don't see why people enjoy that... Being mocked looked down on... I'm already looked down on and treated like a child. He dose it willingly. Suddenly mom puts dad down and I float in the air going closer to her and my heart races. "m-mom please! We can talk about this I'm sorry please don't do this!" I start shaking and tearing up. I rarely cry but this was so humiliating I couldn't take it. "aww... Storm... It's ok... Don't cry mommy's here." She hugs me and I lean against her unable to move still crying. And Shaking. I don't even notice my mom taking off my shirt and pants. Then when she removes my boxers it hits me what she's done and I cry more. "no mommy don't please!" She just smiles laying me on the changing table and I'm blushing not liking being naked in front of my mom and dad. Mom grabs a diaper from the closet and unfolds it and lifts up my butt putting the diaper under me. All I can do is watch in horror as my mother diapers me a 12 year old! "aww your going to look so cute Storm!" I blush more and watch as she puts baby powder on me and flips the diaper over me. Just wait till she puts me down Im ripping this thing off. She straps it on then touches the front and a lock appears in it and looks like it locks and disappears. "magic my mom used on me heheh no matter how hard you try you won't be able to remove this." She can't be serious right...? This can't be happening my whole life is ruined! All because i had to find out my mom and dad's secret! And it some how it turned in to my own secret and If I tell people I'll give away my own it's not fair! Mom picks me up and I feel the paralyze disappear and she puts me down in nothing but a diaper. I blush and try and hide it. It's so hard to close my legs completely. I haven't had to use one of these since I was 3...now I get to do it for 3 months. And school starts in one week... If anyone catches me they will humiliate me to no end...this is the end of my life as the cool kid... And my new life as the freaking stupid laughing stalk baby...wait... Mom don't expect me to use this right?! Chapter 3 Mom grabbed my hand and then my dad's hand then she walked us both into the front room and sat us both on her lap. It was so weird to see my dad on my mom lap and looking like a baby. Wait what am I saying I also look like a damn baby sitting on my moms lap! God I want to die from embarrassment. "alright kiddos. Dill you probably know most of the rules but I'm going to explain the rules for the next few months." Dad lays his head on mom and sucks his thumb then looks at me blushes and hides his face in mom's chest. Is it possible to disown my own dad... "alright rule number one. You wear diapers for 3 full months no exceptions. There's a few more for storm once school starts it's a punishment not trying to make him the laughing stalk of the school." I kinda take a sigh of relief. "wait...? So d-dose that mean I got to use it... To... You know?" Mom smirks and quiets me. "I was getting to that. No more trips to the bathroom. You can only use the diaper." My eyes get big. "but that's disgusting!" Mom laughs. "you don't have a choice storm. Now rule number 3 you will both refer to me as mommy. No mom no Dakota nothing but mommy" I blush. "W-what about around my friends?" Mom pats my head. "oh especially around your friends" She giggles and I blush looking down at the padding between my legs. Curiosity killed the cat... Honestly I wish I did more like curiosity diapered the cat... I let out a big sigh. And continued to listen to mom. "rule number 4 you both will act like your age 3 years old when at home well Dill has to act like it for the full 3 months no exceptions. Storm only has to do it when he's at home while out or at school you can act your normal age of 12. Rule number 5 if you need a change you call me if at school or wherever I'll teleport there and change you. I'll try and keep people from finding out." I just stare at my diaper. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. My life is over. I'm going to be called a baby for the rest of my life. Mom sighs. And pets on dad who's clearly embarrassed to see me acting like this. "This is how we will punish you from now on Strom. "little" punishment. This is to teach you what's right from wrong. We don't believe in spanking or anything we don't like violent punishment for reasons. But I'm sure the fear of everyone will find out about this if you don't listen to us will make you act good won't it?" Spanking me probably wouldn't have made me listen... But this... This isn't fair! I don't have a choice or i'll be mocked! I'm that cool kid at my school! But I sigh. "yes mom... " She clears her throat. And glares a bit. "I-i mean... Yes M-mommy..." I bush oh my God that's so embarrassing! I haven't called her mommy since I was also like 3! "alright I think that's most of the rules now I think it's almost bedtime for my Little ones." Wait what? Bed time? I look at the clock. "U-uhh.... Mommy it's only like 7pm..." She nods and stands up holding me and dad in her arms my eyes get big and I hold on to her scared I haven't been held like this for a long time. Mom takes dad to his bedroom and lays him down. "goodnight baby" Dad blushes and smiles. "goodnight mommy!" Man just him calling mom mommy is kinda weird... What am I talking about this has been the strangest day of my life.. Mom takes me to my room and tucks me in to bed and kisses me I blush. "M-mom..." She giggles. "you're so cute your going to make a cute baby for a few months. But it's nap time. Oh you don't need changed do you? Because you won't get one till tomorrow morning." My face goes bright red. "n-no! I don't plan on using it..." She laughs. "well you will have to sooner or later. Unless you can hold it in for 3 months. Anyways good night love you." She leaves my room and i grone but I won't lie she did tuck me in to a really comfortable spot. No I can't fall asleep... It's too early... Only babies go to sleep... This.... Early.... But it was too late I passed out asleep. Probably from all the stress of today. DREAM I woke flipping the covers off me and to my surprise I was still in my boxers I smile great big. "yes! It was just a nightmare!" I jump out of bed and opened my door I see mom and dad sitting on the couch completely normal. "thank God it was just a dream..." I walk in to the front room. "hey mom? Dad? I'm hungry can I get something to eat?" They don't even act like I'm there. "... Mom? Dad? Hello?" I walk in front of them and my eyes get big. Mom and dad were suddenly younger mom was a ralts and dad was still an eevee. They were in diapers laughing and playing with each other. "mom! Dad! What happened to you two?!" Suddenly something talks in a deep voice. "I changed them in to baby's just like I'll do to you next." My body freezes and I turn and look and it's a giant diaper floating in the air coming at me I scream. And cry. NEXT MORNING I wake up screaming sitting up really fast and hugging myself shaking I pull the covers back and I see my greatest fear. The diaper. I sniff and wipe my eyes when mom ran in. "storm?! What's wrong?! Are you ok?" I nod wiping my eyes. "J-just a nightmare..." Mom hugs me and I hugged her back she gives me a confused look and suddenly grabs the front of my diaper I scream and blush. "MOM!" She smiles and kisses my cheek. "looks like that nightmare was very scary... How about we get you change?" My eyes get big and I feel the front of my diaper it was warm. N-no this can't be happening! I never wet the bed! No no no! This was just a one time thing! I know it was. I blush like crazy as mom picks me up. I can't believe this is happening. Chapter 4 While this is happening it hits me. I don't have to deal with this why am I accepting this happened?! I starts struggling in my mom's arms. I might be stuck in a dang diaper buts I'm not stuck acting like a damn baby! "put me down!!" Mom holds me well walking me to her room before I swing my arm and accidentally smack her across the face. My face goes pale as she stops and glares back at me with the most pissed off look I ever seen my mom have. "you're in so much trouble... We might not believe in hitting you but I'll show you something much... Much worse." This was terrible... Good job Strom you went and made a terrible situation worse. Mom lays me on the changing table still looking pissed I didn't move as she removes the diaper and wipes me with a cold baby wipe. I blush a lot it's so weird to have my mom clean me up. But something tells me it's going to be a bad day. Mom pulls out a new diaper and my face blushes like crazy. It was pink very girly. And mom walks over with it. "don't you dare start struggling or it will be so bad on you... Did you know I always wanted a little girl?" Mom puts it under my butt. Holy crap this thing feels thick and it's not even on yet?! Then it hits me. Mom's not planning on treating me like a girl right?! She knows I absolutely hate that. "b-but mom..." She laughs as she puts the new tick girly diaper on me it made my legs spread far then I see the locking thing again. Won't be removing this either... "aww my cute girl stormy! Good thing your the same size as your dad. I'm using the same sissy stuff I used on him when he pissed me off." Mom opens her closet and pulls out a pink dress as well and smirks. I start crying again I don't know why I this makes me cry. But I can't help it. "m-mom I don't want to be a girl it's bad enough I have to be a dumb baby!" She smiles and puts the dress on me. "don't worry, it's just today you really pissed me off for hitting me so this is what you get. Any other day you piss me off depending on how much you make me mad the punishment will change. I just hope for your sake you don't piss me off during school heh" She wouldn't make me dress up as a girl and send me to school right? No... This is mother she would so do that. OK no more pissing off mom... But God kill me. This is so embarrassing mom picks me up and kisses all over my face. "who's momma's pretty little girl!" I just look down to embarrassed to even speak. Mom takes me to the kitchen where I see dad in a highchair he's got syrup all over him and he's only in a diaper and I think we both blush and look away from each other. But dad giggles. "looks like mommy made you her girl... Better you then me..." Mom sighs. "dill your a mess come on let's go give you a shower. Stormy you will sit here and eat some pancakes while I give your dad a bath" Mmm pancakes do sound good mom puts me on the ground on my butt and undoes dad. I'm trying to get up but the damn diapers so thick I can't close my legs enough and I just fall back down and cross my arms and pout. Dad's set beside me then I'm picked up and put in a highchair and locked in with the tray in front of me. Eww... It still sticky from dad... What the heck did he do? Mom picks up dad and puts cut up pancakes on my tray. "alright you eat while I bathe your dad." She turns on the TV to some baby TV show. I grown as mom walks off. "this is awful... This highchairs all sticky! I have this TV thinking I'm some dumb baby now I can't even find my fork! Mom! You forgot my fork!" No response. "Does she really expect me to eat without one..." Then I remember how sticky dad was. Wait... Oh my God she dose... Gross... So I grab one of the pieces covered in syrup carefully with 2 fingers and eat it. At least it's good. I sigh and keep this up till there gone. Getting quite a bit of syrup on me. And sit there for what seems like forever. Watching TV out of boredom. "I'm going to have this stupid song stuck in my head all day... Can I just grab a knife and cut out my own ear drums?" I sigh. "you know what no... That would hurt more than the music..." I sat there though another like 3 episodes of the same show. I hate to admit it but I was kinda starting to like it. The music was catchy the plot was bull. But at least the music was good. It was like watching a Disney show. Suddenly mom walks in and sits dad in a play pen I didn't even know we had. Then again this must have been dad's baby stuff or whatever I don't remember a high chair being in here either. "oh no look like we have another dirty baby!" I blush. And dad laughs. "don't worry, you get use to it after a while... Be careful if mommy gives you a bath though she's rough. Heheh..." I hated hearing dad call her mommy... Wait give me a- my eyes get big. No no no! My own mom is not about to give me a bath! "no im not giving her a bath at them moment I'll wipe off her hands and stuff with a baby wipe I just got her in her cute clothes and diaper." Her? Oh.... Right.... I groan. I forgot... I'm this stupid girl for the day... At Least no one can see me... That's when the doorbell rings. Chapter 5 Mom walks over to the door opening it my eyes get big and I look away praying to God it's no one I know and hopefully they just think I'm some dumb girl... Baby girl. I hear mom talking. "hello?" Then I hear a guy's voice. It sounds so familiar. "howdy ma'am. I'm just here to pass these to all families of kids that go to the new school." No I know I know that voice... "aww thanks so much young man... But what is it?" I got curious I turn and look slightly at them. I see mom talking to a male Grovyle my eyes get big. Why is the school bully here?! I must have caught his eye because I see him look at me and I blush and look away. "well... It's..." he shakes his head "it's the list of supplies you need to bring stuff has changed with the new generation of Pokemon I'm just supposed to pass them out...uhh cute... Babies?" Mom giggles. "thanks there both very rotten especially the one in the high chair" The Grovyle laughs some and I blush a lot thinking he found me out. "well she is cute. She looks a bit tall for her age but I guess most new generation Pokemon do." He shrugs. "by the way my names Bryn. But where's your kid? Shouldn't you have like a kid my age?" I started shaking and look over at them scared moms going to tell him. "oh. You mean Strom? S- ahem he's sick today in his room sleeping." He looks at me for awkwardly long time and this stupid smile goes over his face. "oh ok well I'm going to get going. Have fun with the baby boy and baby girl" Mom shuts the door and I blush hearing some laughing from outside. "m-mom! I-i think he knows!" I feel like I'm going to start crying. "oh relax stormy. He seemed like a sweet boy he wouldn't tell anyone." I look down. "sweet my ass... Mom! He was the school bully! He would pick on me all the time specifically! It's not Fair!" I start crying and Mom sighs and takes me out of the high chair and pats my butt making me blush as it makes noises. But I lay my head In her. "... I'm not over looking how you cursed stormy. That's another punishment. But what?" Dad giggles. "how about you break his bladder?... You always had fun doing that to me." Mom smirks and my eyes get big. "W-what....but I need that!" Mom touched my gut and a strange key like thing popped up and suddenly I hurt for a moment then it was gone and I got confused. "for the rest of today you will have no control of bladder for cursing. Tomorrow I'll fix it." I was shaking and stopped crying. "Y-you're joking... R-right?-" My eyes get huge as I felt warmth out of no where start to spread across my diaper. Mom smirks. "oh no looks like mommy's baby girls having her second accident." I blush insanely and hide my face. "just change me..." Mom tilts her head "nah it's just a small wet" Mom sits me in the playpen with dad. "Dill teach your baby sister how to play with toys and stuff." I was as bright as a tomato at this point. And I thought the embarrassment couldn't get worse. Mom walks off to clean up the kitchen and dad smiles at me and holds up a bunch of toys. "want to play?" I shake my head and lay down in the playpen trying to keep from crying. This has to be the worse time in my life... My dad is happy to act like a weirdo baby... My mom is making me be a baby and wear a freaking dress! I would take it off but who knows what the hell mom would have in store for me next... I shiver at the thought. Dad gets by me. "you best get use to this... You need to get in to a little space. Or this will be the longest 3 months of your life..." I sniff and look up at him. "what's a little space?" Dad thinks for a moment. "it's where you act like a toddler or baby and just forget how old You are and just have fun!" I look at him unamused. "no... No way am I doing that... Ever. I'm a guy! And I'm a teen! I'm not some dumb baby like you! You're just a creepy weirdo!" Dad tears up and start to cry. I look down not knowing what to do just poking at my diaper. It's so mushy and warm it's disgusting. Suddenly mom comes in and picks up dad and pats him and hugs him. "what's wrong sweetie?" Great... I'm going to be in even more trouble... "I-i accidentally pinched my finger!" My eyes get big and look up. "aww dose mommy need to kiss his finger" He nods and mom kisses his finger and giggles and dad lays his head in mom "... I'm tired can I go lay down?" Mom smiles and kisses dad's head. "sure let's go lay you down." They walk off to the bedroom and I sigh. Why was dad so nice and not get me in trouble? He could have made this worse... As much of a weirdo my dad is he's a very nice guy... I'm sorry dad...I pick up one of his toys he had. "I haven't played with toys since the bully mocked me for it... There for babies..." I grab another toy and pretend like there talking. "well guess what stupid bullie I am a baby now so I can play with all the toys I want. And my mommy's going to make. You a baby also" I giggle as I pull out a toy that looks kinda like mommy and and pretend like it beats up the bullie and puts him in a diaper. I laugh. "now who's a baby!" Then I hear moms voice who's clearly been there behind me for a while and my face goes bright red and I throw the toys. "having fun sweetie?" I shake my head "aww that's too bad. I think it was so cute. You need to relax storm. I feel like you think you have to grow up so fast... But you don't you can be mommy's baby as long as you want" I start tearing up and wipe my eyes. Mom leans down and kisses my head. I still hate this. But... I love all the attention I get... I feel like I'm really loved... If I wasn't forced to wear a diaper and a stupid dress... Chapter 6 Mom sat on the couch and watched me as I awkwardly moved toys around. I didn't want to play while she was watching me. It's embarrassing. We probably sat there for a few hours it was dark out. Man the days seem to go by faster when I'm like this. I guess I'm so embarrassed I forget what time it is. Mom comes over and leans down by me. "you getting kinda hungry?" Honestly I was kinda hungry. I keep looking down rubbing the toy I had on the floor lightly not wanting to look up at her. She smiles and picks me up. That's when it hit me I haven't peed all day. but I didn't even notice that I had used it so I just figured I didn't, because I'm not a Dumb baby who can't hold it. She can't take it away from me heh. She takes me to the fridge and pulls out a bottle. I groan please tell me she's not about to bottle feed me... I would rather die... She warms it up and tickels my stomach making me giggle and push her hand away. I blush. "heh your going to like your num nums aren't you stormy?" I look away I'm not giving that a response. I'm just looking forward that tomarrow I get to go back to being Strom and not this dumb stormy... Suddenly the microwave goes off and mom holds me on my back. "hey what are you-" But I was cut off by a bottle being pushed in my mouth. I was about to try to push it out of my mouth when my mom glares and I shake pulling my hands away. Mom's glares are scary... And I know if I piss her off more I might get something worse then a damn diaper and dress... "come on now stormy you should eat up or you might have to go to bed without supper" I grone and start sucking. Actually I hate to admit it but this stuffs not half bad. It's sweet. It's not milk like I thought but kinda like a oatmeal but not exactly. I drank on it about half way I closed my eyes relaxing before I knew it i was asleep. DREAM I woke up and I was in someone's arms. But when I went to say something only noises came out. It was strange. Then I hear moms voice she laughes some. "aww look Dill he's trying to talk." Wait mom? And dad's here? But where am I? On Closer inspection I think I'm on a plane? I keep trying to talk but no words suddenly a pasifier it put in my mouth. I wanted to spit it out. But I couldn't it was like my whole body relaxed and I just sucked looking at my mom and dad. Suddenly there's a large boom. We hear the pilot come over the radio. "where going down! Get eveyone out of the plane immediately make sure they all get out safely!" There was panic even I was scared I started crying shaking. Am I going to die? Mom and dad take me to a plane door they open it helping people out but while doing that I felt the wind blow hard and the plane shook really hard as well. And I flew out of my mom's arms. And out the door falling out of the plane. I cried and cried. I don't want to die! I can't die! No please mommy!! END OF DREAM I was still asleep but Dakota come flying in the room to my crying and screaming for mommy. And she shook me and I woke up. Hugging mom tight and crying and telling her what I saw in my dream but even I know I didn't really say words I was just so scared. "shhh... It was just a dream storm... You been having a lot of nightmare lately haven't you?" Mom holds me in her arms that's when it hit me I was naked but my yellowed diaper... Wait yellowed diaper. I blush insanely. N-not again! This makes me. Whimper a bit mom held me till I calmed down. "now you more calmed down." I was more relaxed I nod "mhm" I wipe my eyes and mom smiles. "good now how about we get you changed? That must have been a scary dream to make you wet yourself." I blush covering my face embarrassed. Mom laughes and picks me up taking me to her room where dad was sleeping in only a diaper... Also wet. But it definitely helped seeing him in the same situation kinda... He enjoyed it but it made me feel a bit more comfortable. Mom changes my stupid pink diaper and cleans me up and puts me in to a normal diaper. I look outside and it looks like the sun just coming up. It must be pretty early. I sigh and mom picks me up after my change and takes me to the front room. "how about some TV To relax to." Honestly that sounded nice. Mom sits down and sits be beside her she turns it on to the same kids shows as yesterday. They where doing more missions and singing. It it was relaxing. I watch them for a while then I lay my head on my mom and I can feel myself falling asleep again. Why am I falling asleep so often? And so early? I can't tell if Im just mentally exhausted... Or something else. Oh well...this has definitely made me grow closer to mom... I love her so much... And that nightmare only made me realize I'm scared that I'm going to lose them. Or maybe it was more they where scared to lose me? Wait? Now that I think about it it was super scary for me too but my nightmare tonight was completely different then yesterdays. Like someone was forcing me to have a nightmare... But that's not possible right? You can't just force someone to have a nightmare? I don't know I just want to rest. I hope today is atleast less embarrassing... Chapter 7 I woke up oddly I was super relaxed. I don't know why but I laid there and sucked on something in my mouth a bit longer. Then it hits me I spit out whatever is in my mouth and blush like crazy seeing a pacifier in my mouth. I throw it down. "damn it mom... I bet she was involved in this... Why would my body want something like that. That's so weird..." I lean up and see I'm still in a diaper and it's soaked. Mom's magic must have still been in effect. I stand up and it sags down I can't help but blush and poke it. I'm so surprised it can hold that much. I'm so tired of this already. I'm a teen not this stupid baby... And yesterday a stupid baby girl... This is all the things I hate in life all in one. I try to remove my diaper thinking mom forgot to lock it. Nope... Still locked. I go to my door and peek out making sure no one else is here just in case. "mom...? Hello?" I see mom peek out of the kitchen "oh morning storm. You sleep well? Come on in I'm cooking breakfast we got some stuff to talk about." I blushed and looked down. "B-but.... I-" She rolls her eyes. "storm come on I'll change you after breakfast." This made the embarrassment worse. I leave my bedroom exposed and walk to the kitchen with the sagging diaper. Dad's in a high chair and he giggles. "whoa soggy butt today aren't we" I blush I thought I was going to cry when mom speaks up. "dill you have no room to speak your diaper was so full this morning we couldn't even wait" He blushed looked at the table. this made me laugh some and mom also smiled and picked me up. "there's a thing at your school going on I know you still got a few days till it starts but this is important for you to go to. So let's explain the rules for your... Problem." I sigh. "problem?... More like a curse..." She laughs. "how ever you think of it. So I told the nurse your problem. She said if your at school and have an accident she will change you in privacy" I blush and my eyes get big. "Y-you told the nurse?! And I have to ask her to change me?! Why can't I do it myself?!" This is it my life is over! "because I don't know if you will change back to one. And if I find out you cut even one out. I'm going to take you to school as stormy the new girl in school who has bladder problems." My face goes pale. She wouldn't dare... No she's my... no she would. I gulp "I-I understand... Do I atleast get enough clothes to hide... T-this?" Mom nods. "Oh ya if your good and don't make this any problem I promise no one will find out. And if your lucky never will even have an idea. But if you mess up in any way I'll promise you won't like the outcome. Understand me." I nod and she smiles putting me down in a chair. And puts some more pancakes cut up in front of me. With a fork this time thank God. "now eat up and I'll give you a bath and a fresh diaper." I sigh. And start to eat before it hits me. "w-wait give me a bath?! No! No no no! I can do that." Mom glares. "hmm let me think what kinda dress would you enjoy for school." My eyes are huge and shake my head. "I-I mean I can't wait for mommy to give me a bath!" I blush just eating. Mom smiles. "aww your such a cute little boy aren't you storm." Dad speaks up. "oh me too! I'm super cute and adorable right mommy!" Mom laughs and goes over and hugs him. "yap that's why... I'm going to give you a very good bath tonight~" I look confused. My mom and dad are weirdos... She took dad out of the highchair and picked him up. "alright storm you finish up I'll bath your brother." I grone. He's not my brother... He's my dad... I hate my life. Mom takes dad to the bathroom I eat and hear dad saying some strange stuff. Can't quite understand him but he's saying "mommy" and groaning but in a weird way... Probably just dad being freaking weird again. I sigh finishing my food. I see mom taking my dad only in a towel to her room. They take a while but mom comes out pushing a stroller with dad in it. He's in shorts and a childish shirt and a pacifier in his mouth. I give him that weirdo look. But he was relaxed and already half asleep. "alright storm your turn!" Oh god this isn't happening. Mom picks me up. "wait I wasn't done eating! Ya!" She pats my dipared butt. "too bad bath time baby's don't get a choice heh." I groaned and leaned over her shoulder and she takes me to the bathroom and she pulls off my diaper and sits me in a fresh tub of bath water it's jot too high but not too short. I blush as she started to wet me and scrub soap in my hair. "I haven't given you a bath since you were like 5. Mommy I do take good baths you would say then come to find out you stood in the bathroom for like 10 minutes and left" She laughs and I blush mom smiles. "you where a super cute kid... Then you became more... Like this." Mom washes the soap from my fur. "like this?" I was confused. What did she mean. "well you act like it's awful if you act a bit childish. Or terrible you act a little girly. You don't even talk about the girls you like." She smirks. "wait storm do you like Guys?" I blushed. "MOM!" she laughs. "sorry sorry! Hey whatever you like we won't judge you or hate you we love you storm. And this might not seem like it but I think you will understand later this is all out of love." I wasn't going to admit I understand... Kinda anyways but this is still humiliating. Mom takes me out of the water and dries me off leaving me in the towel and picks me up taking to the changing table to to no surprise puts me in a new diaper. Then she puts some shorts and a shirt on me. My shorts kinda puffed out some. But not too noticeable. "now to your school thing!" If one person found out they will blackmail me for the rest of my life... Chapter 8 Mom puts me down to let me walk then she walks up to dad in the stroller and pushed it to the door. "storm come open the door please." I sigh "yes mom... " I walked to the door a little awkwardly I forgot it's definitely not easy to walk around in these things. I open the door and mom pushes the stroller out the door with dad in it and I blush going out with them. My dad's sucking a pacifier in a stroller and I'm secretly in a diaper going to school. This will be the worst beginning of school ever. We walk all the way to school girls would laugh at dad who was still asleep mind you. They all thought he was a toddler or My brother...better then them thinking it's my dad... I see a bunch of kids with their parents like me. But I can bet none of them are forced to wear a diaper. "alright your suppose to head to class room 101. Me and your d-farher will head to the parents meet up. They will get you figuring out what your going to do Monday when school officially starts." I sigh and look up at them. "alright..." I walk inside and start to look around for the class it was so quiet I could hear my diaper crinkeling. I pray no one can hear that. As I look someone pushes me over and I fell on my butt. "hey-!" My eyes get big as I see a tall grovyle standing there. Oh no it's Bryn... "whoa hey watch where you're going shorty" He laughed and grabs my hand and pulled me up and bent down to my ear. "or should I say stormy" My face goes pale as he laughed and walked in to class. Yap this is it the end of my life. My ill never live this down...I shake as I step in to class all the seats were taken except for one by Bryn. Just kill me now... "oh storm you finally made it! Take a seat by Bryn would you?" I nod and carefully walk up to him and sit down my him. The teacher starts to talk about how everything's going to go Monday. I could barley pay attention I would look over at Bryn who was just smirking at me. I finally worked up the courage and whisper to him. "h-how much do you know...?" He doesn't stop smirking. And Whispers back. "not much but enough. So I assume you don't want this getting out do you?" I shake and nod. "please... You can't tell anyone... I-I'll do anything..." Bryn lets out a small chuckle. "great. I think this year where going to be the best of friends." He laughs more then the teacher stops and looks at him. "and what's so funny Bryn?" He stops and smiles. "oh i'm sorry. It wasn't a laugh of funny it was a laugh of excitement! I can't wait for the school year to begin ma'am!" The teacher smiles. Damn as much as I hate this guy he's definitely a smooth talker... "isn't that nice but please don't interrupt class like that again. I only get you for an hour today. I know you all probably don't want to be here but it's only an hour so let's make it quick!" The teacher goes back to explain more stuff. What could bryn have planned this scared me. And at the same time I had to pee very badly. I shook my leg up and down Just to take my mind off it. Bryn looks at me. "problem? That's annoying the hell out of me..." I shake my head. "N-nope no problem..." He sighs. "liar... Guess it's time to let out out secret." My eyes get big and shake my head. "n-no wait... I-I just gotta pee..." Bryn gets this shit eating grin. "well was the other day just a one off or are you still... Uhh diapered I guess?" My face goes bright red and I nod slowly. He smirks. "then go" My eyes get big. "but-!" Bryn clears his throat. "excuse me teacher?" I quickly start to wet myself in fear he's about to tell people. I felt all the warmth go all between my legs. "o-ok I did it please don't..." Bryn smiles. And the teacher looks at them. "what?" Bryn stands up. "I hate to bother you but could I use the bathroom? Me and my friend here storm really need to go." I could feel everyone stare at me and whisper. Bryns never had a friend in years. So I'm definitely a weirdo in this class now... Not as much if people found out about my Diapers. The teacher sigh. "ya I suppose I'll let two people go at once first you two then I'll send another group go on then." Bryn smiles at me to follow and we leave going to the bathroom bryn walks over to the door and locks it. He smirks at me. "take them off." I looks confused. "w-what?" He glares. "I suppose I need to tell everyone how you're a diaper wetting baby. Or you can take off your pants now." I blush and pull them down revealing my diaper I feel him push me up against the wall and cup his hand around the front of my diaper. "wow it's warm you really did wet yourself." He laughs and I blush so badly I want to die. "alright put your pants back on. Your going to do as I ask. If I tell you to wet or mess you do it. No if or ands or buts got me? Also why are you wearing these in the first place. The other day I saw you in them and a dress." I gulp so embarrassed. "w-well I found my dad's secret stuff... It turns out he's some kinda diaper lover or something... And he acts like a child... I was going to make fun of him but my mom used it against me." He looks curious. "interesting... And the dress?" I take a deep breath as I put my pants on. "well I got mad and accidentally hit her..." He smiles. "and if anything bad like that happened again you would probably be back in them huh" I nod Reluctantly. "great. Today after school I want to come to your house and hang out with my new "friend" " I looked confused. " B-but why?" He glares at me. "I have my reasons now your going to tell your mom you want me to come down and I'm your best friend understand me diaper boy?" I look down and nod "good. Now let's get back to class." We both head back to class and sit through the rest of the day. I headed to find my mom and dad outside and walked up to her. "H-hey mom?" She looked at me. "Ya storm?" I breath heavy being nervous. "c-can I have a friend come over today..." Mom looked excited. "of course! But I'm not hiding any of... The stuff." I sigh. "but!... that's fine..." I wave my hand to bryn who was standing not too far away and he runs over and half hugs me. "hello again ma'am! And this is... Storms little brother right?! He's so cute! I'm storms friend! Best friend" Dad blushes and so do I he knows that's my dad what's he playing at. What could he be planning... And why did he grope me today? Was it just to embarrass me... He could have easily seen it was wet... Today has been an awful day. But what could he have planned? Chapter 9 We make It back to my place Bryn hasn't shut up yet he's been talking my mom up. It's like there both best friends now... Of course the bully would have to make friends with my mother... Thats just weird. No weirder then the situation I'm in. Actually I almost forgot I'm wet. I sigh as we walk in mom shuts the door after bryn comes in. Suddenly mom chucks my pants off my face goes bright red as I try and pull my shirt down to cover the diaper. "m-mom!" She laughs and so does bryn which was even more embarrassing. "oh you knew this was going to happen I told you at home you can't keep pants on I got to know when you need changed." Bryn smirks. "oh look at that storms mom I think he's wet." She smiles. "well so he is! Hey I got a idea bryn. Your close friends with storm right?" I shake my head. Like hell if he is... But he would expose me if I said that. I sigh and bryn nods. "of course! Even if my friends a diaper wearing baby it doesn't bother me" She smiles "aww that's so cute. OK how about I give you permission to change him during school time." I blush and bryn smirks. "no way in hel- heck!" Bryn gives my mom a smile. "I would love to help with this punishment! I'm sure going to the nurse would be too embarrassing I bet him asking his best friend would work great." Mom smiles and picks me up. "ok let me go show you how to change him." Bryn nods "yes ma'am!" She takes me to the changing table and I blush insanely. "I-I don't want him to see me naked... Mom please..." She rolls her eyes. "storm please this is your best friend just let him do it." Mom quickly untaped my diaper and bryn watches so carefully. This creep... Is he just staring at me undressed?! Was thats his goal? To be able to see me naked and change me...What kind of weirdo is he...mom gets a new diaper on me and puts me in front of bryn. "and just like that." I could see bryn was blushing slightly smirking. I glare at him and he laughs and spanks my diaper butt and I jump and blush. "he's so cute when he's like this!" I blush like crazy and cover my face. This creep is in to me isn't he?! Well Im not gay so jokes on him! Mom laughs. "I have to agree. You should see him in a dress" She laughs more. And so done bryn. I just want to die... "so are you two more than friends? Is this why he's never had a girlfriend heheh" Bryn laughs more "NO! MOM I'M NOT GAY! how many times do I have to tell you?!" I don't think anyways... But god I hate that she just assumes stuff. "well maybe we will one day" He winks at me and I shiver. "people don't know it but I am bi." Bryn smiles at me all I can do is shiver more. So he was just doing this to stare at me naked... And mom's probably going to let him change me more... As long as I don't got to go back to wearing girls clothes. "oh storms mom you should make him go to school like a girl. If this is a punishment make sure he has to do it at least once." My eyes get big. "w-what?! No! Never!" Mom glares at me. "I wouldn't say never young man. But I like that idea. It would be cute!" No come on! Can't she see he's trying to embarrass me! I don't know if being bi is True or just another way to embarrass me and make me seem bi?! I don't know but I hate this guy! But... I can't do anything he owns me right now... "would it be too much trouble if I stay the night ma'am?" Mom smiles and I shake my head. "you can stay all you like bryn also my names Dakota. Call me that." he smiles and nods. "ok then. Thanks Dakota! I can't wait to play with my friend who's now a baby" He laughs and I just give up. "I'm going to my room..." Mom sighs. "fine but lunch will be ready later. You both go have fun and bryn if he makes a mess go ahead and change him I made it so only you the nurse and me can remove his diaper. And don't remove the diaper for him. I know your friends but-" Bryn smiles and nods. "ok I won't don't worry!" At this point I have already left and was in my room sitting on my bed in a shirt and diaper and sigh. A while later bryn walks in and sits by me. "man this is too easy. I got full permission to rear you like a little baby." I glare. "shut the fuck up..." He smirks. "oh no I wonder what will happen if I tell your mom you said fuck." My eyes get big. "w-wait! We can talk about this..." He keeps smirking the coky little fuck. "fine then for the night you do what I tell you to do got it?" I sigh. "got it..." He looks at me. "now how about you use your diaper like a good boy." I blush and grind my teeth. "I don't have to..." He thinks then smiles. "not even number 2?" My eyes get big. He can't be serious. Please no I don't want to do that it's bad enough I got to wet them... But... I have definitely got to go. "M-maybe..." He pats my diaper. "then squat and mess right here in front of me." I blush and stand up. "and if I don't..." He smirks. "you might end up being a girl for your first week of school." I gulp and sigh. "ok...just please don't tell mom..." I blush as I squat. This isn't real... Right? I just want to wake up. I don't want to do this anymore. It's not fair... Chapter 10 I squat there for a while just looking at Bryn who just smiled down at me. "well?" I look away blushing. And I mumble "I can't..." He glares down at me. "what?" I gulp. "I-I said I can't... I-I don't feel comfortable doing it... I can't force myself." Bryn sighs. "that's a shame. Your going to be a cute girl again" He laughs and it scares me and I fart a bit and my eyes get big. "W-wait I think it's happening!" He looks at me curiously and I feel myself start to go I feel it packing into the back of my diaper. This is disgusting... Oh God I can smell it... My face goes bright red as it just fills. And like out of a habit I also wet. I was kinda surprised by how easily I did it. But then again I never been pee shy. I just don't like to go number 2 around anyone I can't even do it when I'm in the school bathroom with someone... Surprised I did it now. "damn you stink storm!" He laughs and hugs me I blush. What the hells this creep doing? I feel the back of my diaper get pulled back I tried to pull away but it was too late. "wow you really did it. Didn't think you had it in you. That's gross. Your gross." He laughs more. Then groped me from the front again. This has to be the most uncomfortable ever... Oh God I just thought of him changing me! "wow your a wet one aren't you Storm?" He smirks. And pushes me down my eyes get big as I hit the ground and feel everything squish in to me. I shiver in disgust. "aww oh no the baby fell down good thing he had a full diapy to help with the fall." I drop my head in shame I never felt so stupid. When I was just around mom and dad at least they would mock me... But it didn't feel like they were trying to be mean but Bryns doing this on purpose. I start to tear up and whimper. Just hitting my emotional top. Bryn stopped laughing and looked down at me. "are you crying?" I shake my head and start wiping my eyes starting to cry more knowing he's going to mock me for this now. But he sighs. "I didn't mean to make you cry... Well not like this... I wanted to have some fun with you..." He pats my head. And I sniff tying to stop crying but my voice crack. "W-why are you doing this?" He shrugs. "I don't know at first it was because I seen you in a dress and diaper and I was going to mock you but... Never mind that's it I just wanted to mock you! Best go ask your mommy for a diaper change! But uhh I gotta go... I don't think I can stay today I got to go now!" Bryn runs out of the house. What did he mean by he was going to mock me but? Wonder what he was going to say. I stand up and groan. "this is never coming out of my fur..." Suddenly mom walks in "why did Bryn leave? I thought he was staying?" Suddenly she sniffs around the room and I blush worried she might notice it was me. "I-I don't know... He just-" Suddenly mom grabs me and pulls back the back of my diaper and I scream. Hoping it would make her get back. "mom!!" She smiles. "wow, no wonder he ran looks like this little baby made a stinky!" I was so embarrassed I covered my face I didn't even know what to say. Mom giggled "heheheh let's get you cleaned up and a bath then we will get you ready for bed." I mean I was starting to get sleepy. Damn her and making me go to sleep so early... But I don't want a bath or cleaned but at the same time I do... Mom takes me to the changing table and dad was on the floor with toys. "phew... Wait did storm have his first stinky?!" Mom laughs putting me on the changing table and untapping my diaper I was so ashamed this is the worst I ever felt "B-Bryn made me..." She gave me a stern look. "seriously storm now your going to lie about your friend? I Can't believe you. You had an accident all your own get use to it mister." She gets me all cleaned up and takes off my shirt and picks me up going to the bathroom. "but-" She glares. "no buts!" She gives me a small spank on my butt and both our eyes get big moms never hit me before. It didn't hurt but I was surprised and kinda scared. "oh my God storm! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that I have just been dealing with your dad and I have to spank him because he can get a little crazy among other reasons... Anyways I'm so sorry!" She hugs me and I hug back laying my head on her. Me being naked would normally bother me. But I have gotten so used to it over the past few days. "it's ok... You just never hit me before it was kinda scary..." She hugs me close starting some bath water. "I know... How about I make your favorite food for supper?" I look up at her and smile. "you mean mashed potatoes?" She smiles and nods and I smiles great big. "YES!" She laughs and puts me in the water and dumps a bunch of soap on my head and gets me wet and scrubs it in. There's a bunch of toys floating around. Probably from dad. I get curious though I grab one and push it along and it comes back then I push it under water and squeeze it and it makes a noise. I do this for a while I wasn't really having a bunch of fun if it was amusing while I get cleaned. I even forgot to be embarrassed before I notice mom taps me. "huh" She smiles. "I hate to interrupt your play time but you ready to come out?" I blush. "I-I wasn't playing!" I cross my arms and moms picks me up laughing and drying me off. "oh really not paying that's why you stayed in the bath an extra 15 minutes?" My eyes get big. "wait... You been done bathing me for 15 minutes and I didn't notice?!" She nods. "yap it was so cute. Ive never seen you play with toys since you were like 4 it's a shame really most kids still play with toys but you wanted to grow up way too fast...it killed your dad" She laughs and picks me up taking me to the changing table. "because he wanted to play with me right...?" She nods and smiles. "when you were young you two used to play together a lot you loved it. And so did he it was... Weird I guess but it was father and son bonding. But once you became able to talk he got scared to do it around you... Then it becomes this big secret." Mom lays me down getting me in a clean diaper. It was honestly so much more nicer then the messy one that was awful, I hope I never have to mess in one again. "hey mom? Was dad ashamed of himself because of me?" She sighs and nods. "you always wanted to grow up so quickly... That Dill was scared you would do exactly what you did a few days ago." I look away. I feel awful... Even though dad's weird for liking this... He's still my dad... And I love him no matter what I say... "hey mom? Can me and dad play stuff tomorrow." She picks me up and hugs me and I blush. "your dad would love that... You know storm you became such a good young man. It's a shame this will only last 3 months. I could do this forever." She laughs. I laughed awkward. "Y-ya... But I want to go back to underwear sometimes..." She sighs. "I know and I won't stop you. At Least now you understand your dad more and maybe tomorrow you two can grow closer. You and him haven't really been that close." Shs has a point I feel like I barely know him. Well tomorrow's all for dad! It's going to be embarrassing and probably make me wish I was dead but dad will be happy. And right now I know how he feels after Bryn got ahold of me... I get taken to eat and then after getting back to my room and tucked in. I quickly fell asleep hopefully no nightmares tonight.
  9. This story is a sequel to “First week at my new job.” I highly recommend you check it out first, as it will make reading this story easier! And thank you for all your kind words and encouragement. They really mean a lot to a budding author! ☺️ FIRST MONTH AT MY NEW JOB by LtlGary “The bruising is healing nicely. Go ahead and rotate your ankle for me.” I sat up on the examination table as I rotated my naked foot for Dr. Jessica. The brace rested in the corner of the room, next to my diaper bag. I lifted my foot as she scanned my foot with a digital scanner. The screen showed the bones, tendon and muscle as they moved. I frowned at the slight discomfort. “I’ll recommend a lighter brace. One that you can wear with socks and shoes.” “Thank you so much, Doc.” I had something else on my mind, but had no idea how to bring up the subject. “Something else on your mind?” Dr. Jessica must have noticed my expression. “It’s just that… I’ve been loving my job at River-Bridge. I’ve been testing out their strollers, and… their other products.” “I see.” “But I’m not worried about losing my control.” I added hastily. “I’m…just worried with all the sitting I’m doing in the stroller, and having others take care of me…” “You’re worried that you’re not getting enough exercise. And you’re also worried about your independence.” “Yeah.” I studied her diplomas on the wall. Dr. Jessica Cunningham was more than just a doctor to me. She was my close friend in school. Our parents were close friends, and inevitably she found out about my trouble staying dry at night. I made her promise to never to tell a soul. Ironically, my bedwetting issues were one of the main reasons why she decided to pursue a career in medicine. She glanced over my chart. “You haven’t gained any noticeable weight since your last checkup. I wouldn’t worry about it. Though maybe you could have them switch you out from a stroller to a toddler harness. River-Bridge sells those, right?” “I can’t answer that.” I definitely wasn’t allowed to share that information. However, I was already making plans to use the harness the R & D team gave me. She smiled knowingly. “No matter. Now let’s check to see if you’re wet.” “Excuse me?” “I have to make sure you don’t have a rash. And I wouldn’t mind a trip down memory lane.” I sighed as I laid back. Dr. Jessica expertly unpinned my short-alls and onesie, exposing my diaper. Two fingers made their way between the disposable and my boy bits. I tried really hard not to squirm. “Aww, don’t be so bashful. You’re only a little wet, but enough that you need a fresh diaper.” Mainly because a shot of pee had escaped me when she mentioned that she wanted to change me! She reached over and snatched my diaper bag off the floor. The slightly used diaper was folded up neatly and tossed in the trash. I shivered as I was wiped down. A splash of powder followed, and an extra thick diaper was pulled up around my legs. “Gonna need you to lift up, little man.” I was surprised she remembered my parent’s nickname for me. I dutifully lifted my hips. Dr. Jessica secured the cartoon diaper around my waist and fastened the tapes. Lastly, she buttoned me all up. “There, there. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” She gently patted my diapered bottom as she helped me back into the stroller. She pushed a button on her wrist watch, and a male nurse entered the office. “Gary will need a smaller ankle brace. And another appointment in eight weeks.” *** The nurse was super helpful. I was able to get the smaller brace in the color I wanted, which he fitted to my injured foot. He was kind enough to help me into my van and even made sure that I was securely strapped into my five point harness. I waved good-bye to him just like a little kid would as the automated door closed. “Home.” Two weeks had passed since the car accident, and I still had no desire to drive. I was still keeping up with my workload, despite protests from Hank and Danny. They were insisting that I take it slow and steady. They didn’t want me to get burned out or reinjure myself. I appreciated the concern, but I had to let them know repeatedly that I was not made of glass. I felt a familiar rumble in my bowels. Why did I have Mexican food for lunch? “Call Adina.” I told the van’s AI. “Yes, baby Gary?” She answered immediately. So glad that Nanny Bots were cellular capable! “Can you run the bath? I many arrive home messy.” “Understood. I have also changed the sheets on your crib as you instructed.” “Thank you. See you soon!” Adina hung up. I spent the remainder of the trip home engrossed in trying to solve an oversized Rubik’s Cube. A gift from Danny to keep me occupied as my foot healed. The van pulled up to the abode, parked neatly between two sedans, and the engine shut off automatically. I unbuckled my harness and opened the door. I intended to make it home as soon as possible, as the last thing I wanted was to mess my diaper in public. “Hello, neighbor! Don’t think we’ve met!” A heavily accented voice drew my attention. I turned over and found myself staring at the largest guy I’ve ever seen! The tall black man stood over six feet and easily more than twice my weight. And none of it was fat. “The name’s Nolan.” “Gary.” I responded with more confidence than I felt. “Good to meet you! I take it you work at River-Bridge?” “Yeah. In the Logistics Department.” “I own the 6-10 Mini mart on 7th street. We actually carry your products, since the Senior Center is right next door.” “That’s great.” Sweat was rolling down my back as my stomach gurgled. I had been holding it back for too long, but I didn’t want to let it go in front of Nolan. What would he think of me? The very thought chilled my blood. I closed up the van, locking it with a simple voice command. “Well, I got to get going. I’ve had a busy day.” I started hobbling towards my place with my diaper bag in tow. “Let me give you a hand.” The next thing I know, I’m being swept up into his huge muscular arms. I gave a large fearful yelp as my bowels emptied themselves. The stench was overpowering! A small sob escaped my lips. Nolan gently rubbed my back. “It’s all right.” He kept telling me. I certainly didn’t feel all right! “Are you embarrassed that you used your diaper like a good little boy?” I nodded as I wiped snot onto my arm. “Well you have nothing to worry about.” “I don’t understand.” Nolan booped my nose. “Most people here know that River-Bridge employees don’t wear regular underwear. Hell, I don’t even mind the smell because I helped my older sister run a daycare.” I stared at him in awe. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so nice.” “I get that from a lot of folks. And if you ever need someone to babysit you, let me know.” I thought for a moment. Mom and Dad have always told me to be more sociable. I’d always brush them off, and use my imagination for company instead. Sure, I had my co-workers at work, but I never let them get this close. I never treated them more than acquaintances. What I really needed was a close friend. “I’d be honored. Right now I just want to go home and get this nasty diaper off me.” I paused. “Totally understandable.” Nolan walked me towards my front entrance. I hesitated. “I’m working only half days this week, so maybe we can grab a bite to eat tomorrow?” “Sounds good!” Adina was waiting for both of us. Nolan handed her to me. “See ya tomorrow, Nolan!” I waved. “Can you set me down, Adina? I need to practice walking with my new brace on.” “No problem, baby Gary.” She set me down. I took her hand and together we walked to the bathroom. I was lifted up onto the changing table, and my clothes were peeled off. Adina had to spend a fair amount of time wiping down my backside. I was so glad I didn’t have a blowout! I was deposited in the tub, which was filled with warm water, toys and tons of bubbles. I was too tired to play and let the warmth penetrate my body for half an hour. Adina entered later, holding a large fluffy towel. She reached in and pulled the stopper. Soon I was in her arms, being gently dried down. I struggled to keep my eyes open as a fresh diaper encircled my loins. The last thing I remember is finding myself in my crib next to my blankie and a bottle of formula. *** The next morning was fairly uneventful. I managed to solve my Rubik’s cube on the way to work. I spent the next few hours reading and answering supplier emails. I was in the in the middle of writing a report for Hank when a Nanny Bot plucked me out of my chair. “Lunchtime!” “Can you hand my tablet please?” The Nanny Bot wordlessly grabbed it off my desk and handed it to me. I made sure the draft was saved on my email account. I was carried into the cafeteria after several back rubs and bottom pats. I made sure to hang onto the tablet as I was secured into a high chair. Today’s menu item was pizza, veggies and breadsticks. I quietly worked on my tablet as a tray of food arrived. I managed to type out another two pages as my Nanny Bot busied herself with cutting up the breadsticks and pepperoni pizza into bite sized pieces. She gently patted my head as she set a sippy cup full of juice and put a bib around my neck. “Eat up, sweetheart! You need to be strong and healthy so you can do your best work!” The bot informed me. I reached for the first bite of pizza, blew on it and stuffed it into my mouth. Followed by another. I had been working so hard that I forgot I was hungry! I ignored the grease that was smeared all over my face and hands. “I hope you’re not planning on using that tablet.” I heard Danny chuckle at me. He was busy munching on a breadstick from the next high chair over. I shrugged. “I was smart enough to work before I start eating.” “Speaking of food, this weekend there’s a large potluck planned for the end of summer. We’re planning all kinds of games: tag, sharks and minnows, dodgeball, water balloon fights, the whole nine yards. Are you planning on coming?” “Definitely!” I thought for a moment. “Can I bring a friend?” “Don’t see why not.” “Thanks! Anything else I should know?” “Well, Hank and I are working on forming a small softball team. A few of the other biomedical companies also have teams and we’re thinking of joining in on the fun.” “You mean T-ball league?” I gave him a sly grin. “I’m still working on the details, though the other teams said that would be fine.” “Count me in. I need to get some more exercise.” “Oh?” “My doctor noticed I’ve put on ten pounds. I need less time in the stroller.” I finished my meal, and the Nanny Bot rolled over. My face and hands were wiped down with a damp cloth, and the food splattered bib was removed. My diaper was checked, and I was still dry... for the moment. I held the Bot’s hand as I walked back to my desk. Once I hooked up my tablet to the charging pad, I made my way to the playground. For the next hour I pretended to be on a pirate ship as I turned the big wheel. Next I was a ninja, defending my lord’s home against the invading army. Finally a Viking, as I searched for cities to plunder. I worked up quite a sweat as I ran up and down the slide and monkey bars. I really wanted to continue to play, but I did promise to hang out with Nolan. Reluctantly I made my way towards my van. I was about to open the door when I groaned. I left my cell phone at my desk! I raced back inside, and up the stairs. I managed to snag it, but then my luck ran out. A Nanny Bot cornered me at one of the exits. “Wow, little one! You are quite smelly and sweaty! Someone could use a shower!” “I don’t have time. I’m meeting a new friend and I don’t want to be late.” “But do you want to meet your friend all disheveled? Come on, you’ll feel better!” I found myself in her arms as we walked to the large showers. I wasn’t getting out of this. Ah well, better to be late and presentable! “As long as we make it quick.” “Of course, little one.” The Bot made good on her word. I was stripped, scrubbed, and rinsed in under ten minutes. Powder, deodorant, a thick diaper and fresh clothes followed. It even combed my hair into a nice part. “Thank you.” I said when I was set back down on the ground. “No problem, little one.” It gave me a pat on my bottom, urging me to get going. I made my way back to my van and began the journey back home. I absentmindedly stared out the window, wishing I had brought more toys to play with. As the van parked fifteen moments later, I unbuckled myself and sprang from the van door. I made my way to Nolan’s front porch as fast as I could waddle. I was about to knock when Nolan stepped outside. “Come on in, little one!” He swallowed me up in his arms. I giggled in spite of my nervousness. I hadn’t expected to share my love of acting younger with anyone else. Having my parents, let alone the hospital staff was a lot to take in. But letting my neighbor in on my lifestyle was a whole another level. Nolan’s fingers made their way underneath my short-alls. “You’re soaking wet!” “My diaper bag is in my van.” I handed him the keys. I was a little surprised as I no longer noticed when I needed to wet myself. We walked back out to the parking lot where he grabbed it from the trunk. Once back inside, he laid me down on the floor of his living room. He made short work of my clothes. The diaper was tossed in the trash. His touch only made me giggle more. “Ticklish?” “Not gonna answer that.” Nolan responded by blowing a big raspberry on my stomach. I howled with laughter. He nimbly secured a fresh diaper around my bottom, and rebuttoned my onesie and short-alls. “Can I have my blankie?” I pointed to my diaper bag. “Sure, little one.” I cuddled with my blankie as I was powdered, oiled and diapered. I then found myself on Nolan’s lap. He gently rocked me back and forth. We talked about all kinds of things: favorite movies, food, hobbies, family as the hours ticked by. “Do you have any plans this weekend?” I took a deep breath. “I was just going to take it easy. Did you have something in mind?” “My work is hosting a potluck and…” I hesitated. “I was hoping you’d be my plus one. My parents are too far away, let alone too busy. And you’re the only person that I’ve gotten to know.” A subtle grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’d be honored. Can’t have my little boy be all alone at his party.” “My little boy?” “You don’t mind, do you?” I scrunched my eyebrows in thought. Having Adina was nice and all, but I really enjoyed the company of another person. And being out on my own was so daunting! It was nice to have someone look after me when my parents aren’t able to. “Not at all. Thank you, daddy.” I cuddled up to him. I found myself nodding off due to all the excitement earlier today. Nolan carried me back to my home where Adina was waiting. “May I put him to bed?” Nolan asked the Nanny Bot. She nodded. Once again I was laid in my crib. Nolan secured my blankie under my arm. He also put a pacifier in my mouth, which I immediately started sucking on unconsciously. “He’s so bloody cute.” Nolan whispered to himself as he shut the door to my room. *** The potluck totally consumed my mind for the rest of the week. Adina helped me cook up a storm the day before. The condo smelled heavenly as I made freshly baked bread, a large fruit salad and baked a large batch of cookies. I loved to cook for large groups, as it’s something I don’t do very often. My family was never large and I had leftovers for days whenever I cooked on special occasions. The scheduled day arrived, and early Saturday morning I began loading the van with my baked goods. I put on my best clothes – a sailor suit romper - with Adina’s help. With that large job done, I knocked on Nolan’s front door. “Ready to go?” “Of course, little boy.” He ruffled my hair. He was dressed in a nice golf shirt, shorts and a pair of sandals. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on his clothing. I grabbed the offered hand as we walked to my van. He gently strapped me into my car seat. “I forgot the diaper bag.” I fretted. Nolan went back to my condo where Adina was waiting with a bag in her arms. He thanked her as he took the bag and stowed it in the front seat. Nolan chose to sit next to me for the ride over. We made small talk as my van zipped along the back roads. The conversation kept me calm, as I inwardly worried over the smallest details. Did I follow the recipe correctly? What will my coworkers think of my neighbor? Will I say something awkward and ruin all the goodwill that I’ve painstakingly built up? I saw a concerned look on Nolan’s face, so I took a deep breath. He rubbed my shoulder reassuringly. The van made its way to the employee parking lot and parked in the closest stall. Several of my coworkers greeted me when the door opened. They helped carry all my food, gushing with all kinds of complements on how wonderful it smelled. Nolan managed to grab my diaper bag from the trunk. I took his hand, and we walked towards the playground. Small tables had been set up, full of all kinds of baked dishes, salads. Another small table held numerous baby bottles and sippy cups full of juice, milk or water. Nanny Bots were busy feeding their charges. I spotted Hank and Danny happily playing on the playground, their shrieks of laughter permeating the air. Upon spotting me, both of them slid down the slide and ran over to me. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friends, Gary?” “This is Hank and Danny.” I stared at my shoes, as my cheeks began to turn pink. “And you are?” “Nolan, Gary’s neighbor.” “Good to meet you!” Nolan eyed Danny’s sagging waistline. “You could use a change, young man.” My co-worker glanced down. “Huh. Been too busy having fun.” He sighed. “Would you mind? Most of the Bots are busy at the moment.” “Not a problem, just point me towards the changing area.” Danny raised his arms, and Nolan plucked him off the ground. My neighbor bounced him around as both men walked towards a large blanket full of changing supplies. Hank grabbed my hand. “Come on, you got to try all this great food. Who knew the Customer Service department could cook!” A small smile crept on my face as we filled our paper plates to the brim. We ate with our fingers, with the occasional Bot putting a full fork or spoon into our mouths. I have never tasted food this good! I was lucky enough to sample everything. A few other factory workers struck up a conversation with me, and I managed to shelve my anxiety as we sat at the main table. The Marketing division then got a game of sharks and minnows going. I eagerly joined in on the fun. I was able to even tag several people despite being in an ankle brace. I definitely worked up a sweat as the sun crawled across the cloudless sky. A slight breeze was wafting through the park, but it still wasn’t enough to cool us down. After a few rounds, we switched to kickball. I had a little trouble with my foot but I was still able to get on base a few times. I couldn’t tell if the opposing team was being nice to me or not, but I decided not to worry about it. When the last game had finished, the CEO stood up and announced that the permitting issue had been fixed and now he was able to turn on the fountains. A shout of joy rang from the crowd. I joined in, but only half-heartedly. I didn’t mind getting wet but I didn’t like all the extra sagginess around my waist. Yet I saw all my coworkers taking off their clothes (with the help of others or being assisted by Nanny Bots) and run to the fountains in just their diapers. I really didn’t want to be left out, so I decided to brave a little discomfort. A nearby nanny bot noticed my expression. “Would you like to play in the water with your friends?” “Yeah.” She divested me of my sailor suit romper and left me in just my diaper. Which was a little wet, but the Bot surmised that it would hold up for now. “Arms up.” The Bot gently started spraying sunscreen over my body. I closed my eyes, trying not to let the banana smelling mist near my face. That stuff will sting like no other! The Bot didn’t forget my ears, nose, cheeks and forehead. Liam from the product development team was next. My bottom received another endless pat as she ushered me to play. I giggled as I hobbled over to the fountains where Liam, Danny, Hank and several others were laughing and playing among the granite surface. Water would squirt up from the holes, drenching their bodies. There was even a pole containing three buckets. Spigots would fill them with water, and they would tip every so often. Drenching anyone underneath. Many tried running across, trying not to get wet. I even tried a few times. We didn’t succeed in the slightest. I could hear Nolan’s laughter as he sat watching us from the food tables. The water was ice cold, but felt amazing against our skin. The humidity was low and the day was hot, making for perfect balance. Out of the corner of my eye I find Hank and Danny holding a large plastic laundry basket. Liam and a girl from Marketing are holding another. My suspicions were confirmed when the first water balloons were hurled at unsuspecting targets. War was declared as combatants squared off. Multi colored balloons were soon flying everywhere. Along with giggles and laughs. I quickly joined the melee, reaching for the nearest ammo stockpile. I got in some good hits and took a few mighty blows. I stopped by the food table to grab a cookie for two. My sweet tooth needed to be sated! I happily munched as I found myself being picked up by Nolan. “I found a little boy who desperately needs a dry diaper!” I laughed as he threw me over my shoulder. I found myself on the changing pad, staring up into the crystal clear sky as my saggy diaper was handed to a Nanny Bot for disposal. A dash of power, a dollop of cream and one fresh diaper later, I found myself being gently bounced on Nolan’s knee. I leaned against his large frame as I watched the chaos. I was mostly dry by then, but he had told me he didn’t mind getting wet. My eyes absorbed every feint, every successful hit, and every chase. “You ready to get back into your regular clothes?” Nolan asked me after a while. I nodded tiredly. He carried me back to a changing mat where I was put in fresh diaper. A bottle full of formula kept my attention while Nolan took care of me. My romper was stowed away, and in its place I was wearing a light blue onesie with golden stars all over. I found myself growing more and more tired. I don’t remember Nolan scooping me up into his giant arms, while thanking countless people for the fun we had. Hell, I don’t even remember messing my diaper on the ride home. Nolan apparently did because he said the smell was the foulest thing he’d smelled in a long time. But what surprised me the most was when I found myself in the shower with Nolan. Now I really began to like him as a friend, but not as a lover. I’ve never been gay, but I’ve always wanted a father or an older brother in my life. Nolan filled that void perfectly, and I got the impression that he felt the same way about me. I pondered my feelings as he scrubbed my diaper area. I shyly asked if he needed any help washing himself, but he laughed and said he’d handle it. His shower was much larger than mine, and easily fit both of us. I relished the rain like feeling as it gently poured from the spigot in the ceiling. He toweled me off, put me in a thick nighttime diaper, and carried me back to my crib in my apartment. Adina didn’t mind as he gently laid me down. A pacifier was slipped into my mouth, and my blankie found itself in my sleepy fingers. Soon I was lost in another adventure in dreamland, as Nolan sought his own bed back in his own condo. THE END
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