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Hi folks! I decided when I finished my latest mainstream book that I wanted to do a short story for Christmas before getting back into the grind of daily updates on multiple stories. However, I've not done very well at finishing this one… and it seems unlikely now that it will be finished in time to be "seasonal". So… I'm eager to hear opinions about whether I should finish it anyway, or leave it until it's seasonal again next year. This one started out as a simple idea, but became more complex as I planned it, and the characters seemed to have their own ideas how they want it to go. There may be some serious themes in the first and last chapters; and some of the (adult) characters wanted to get a bit frisky. So if you want content warnings for particular topics on any future chapters, please let me know. I know 24 parts sounds like a lot for a Christmas short. Really, it's 6 chapters. But each chapter is broken up into four parts, one for each character, making 24 parts in total. Hope that's not too many words for anyone. Feedback please! Seeing people's opinions, and predictions, always makes it more fun and easier to keep on writing. Gift Exchange Act 1: Driving Home for Christmas David, broken-hearted businessman Snow-dusted trees whizzed past outside the window as David rehearsed his lines, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel. “We decided to take a break,” he mumbled, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to his own ears. He knew he’d have to answer these questions sooner or later, even if everybody was too polite to ask. He cleared his throat and tried again, injecting more false cheer into his voice: “Me and Sarah just realised we wanted different things out of life. But it's okay, it means I can see you guys for Christmas again. Just like the old days.” The words rang hollow in the cosy confines of his car, and the wind whistling along beside him almost seemed to be laughing. David sighed, raking a hand through his soft brown hair. How could he possibly fool his perceptive family when he couldn't even convince himself? As he turned onto the off-ramp and saw the town spread out below, a dazzling array of twinkling lights caught his eye. Houses transformed into gingerbread fantasies, with icicle lights dripping from eaves and inflatable snowmen waving merrily. The residents of Maple Street always went the extra mile, knowing that they would be the first thing every visitor from beyond the valley saw. The cheery festive scene, now complemented by seasonal music and animated light shows, tugged at something deep in David's memory. “Wow,” he breathed, slowing the car to drink in the magical sight. Unbidden, a long-forgotten image swam to the surface of his mind. Elves swarming to put the lights back on a Christmas tree after some malevolent force had knocked it down. The kids singing and whooping, hoping to chase off evil spirits while Dad cheered them on. “Must be mixing up dreams and reality again,” he mused with a shake of his head. “Does everyone remember such a crazy childhood, or is that a side-effect of having a children’s author as your dad? All those pictures and epic bedtime stories gave me the most amazing dreams. But I wish I could remember more stuff that really happened. Yet as he drove on, more improbable recollections bubbled up. A genie’s lamp wedged against the wall to calm a wobbly table. Statues that winked and waved when they thought no grown-ups were looking. Talking squirrels, and hedge mazes that led all the way into the elf quean’s labyrinth. Enough fantasies to fill a whole shelf of novels, and the images in his mind’s eye were always as clear as the primary-coloured cover illustrations that used to rule the fantasy shelves of the school library. “Come on, Wilkinson,” David chided himself, managing to find a moment’s humour as he caught himself sounding just like his boss. “Next you'll be remembering flying reindeer and–” He broke off and shook his head, trying to dismiss mental images of star-dusted skies flashing past so fast they became a blur. But now he was just being silly, sticking fantastic trappings onto a half-remembered trip on a late-night bullet train or something. “Nope,” he said. “That one’s definitely fiction. If Santa was one of Dad’s characters, he’d be getting a whole lot more royalties. No more daydreaming for now. Time to focus.” He squared his shoulders, and saw determination etched across his features in the rear view mirror. “You can do this,” he told his reflection, who clearly didn’t believe him. “Smile. Laugh. Pretend everything's fine. It's just for a few days.” But as David rehearsed his cheerful facade once more, he couldn’t quite shake the lingering feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, his subconscious mind was trying to tell him something useful through all these disjointed recollections of childhood dreams. But how would he even recognise the one real moment when he saw it? He pushed that thought to one side and gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening as he steeled himself for the performance ahead. “It's simple,” he muttered. “Smile, nod, grin and bear whatever Lily wants to rib me about.” A recent breakup would be sure to put an edge on his sister’s teasing this year, but in a way he was looking forward to the next step in the sibling-rivalry arms race. At least he had fresh ammunition this year. His eyes flickered to the pile of presents on the passenger seat, landing on the neatly wrapped bundle for his sister. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he imagined her reaction. “Oh, workout clothes! How thoughtful,” he mimicked her voice badly, voice heavy with sarcasm. “They'll go great with that treadmill I’ve been using as a clothes rack.” Of course, she’d never say something like that when she could talk about how she was going to finally go running on it later this week, or next month, or maybe in June. But she didn’t need to admit it, because the words were already in the thoughtful note he had included for her. She would have to feign gracious acceptance and find some way to ambush him with a hidden barb in her words later. And he knew that she really enjoyed the struggle for the upper hand as much as he did. The laughter died in his throat as he imagined Sarah again, wondering if she was laughing just as much about the familiar ache she had left in his chest. He tried another chuckle, but the sound was hollow. David couldn’t get his thoughts away from her, or from the life he had expected to be living right now. Their first real Christmas together, actually making joint plans and obsessing over making them perfect, after so many years of winging it. “Face it,” he told himself, “it was too late. No time to change plans. No time to fit someone else into those plans even if I could find someone that quickly. At least I can spend time with my family.” When he said that, it was so easy to picture Dad’s pitying looks, or Mom giving him dating advice. Too easy to get hung up on questions that were too painful to answer. And easy to imagine the subtle ways Lily would find to work his predicament into her little jabs. And he knew that if he showed them how he was really feeling, the cloud of melancholy hanging over his head would spread to envelop the whole house. That was something he didn’t want on his conscience. “No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he waited for a red light to change. “I won’t ruin their Christmas too. They still invited me, and did everything to make it possible at short notice. I’ll smile, I’ll laugh, I’ll be the perfect son and brother for all of them.” The car started moving again and David took a deep breath, plastering on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew the performance ahead of him was going to be particularly challenging, and there was so little time left to figure out what he was going to say to them all. His eyes flickered back to the little stack of gifts in between checking that the road ahead was clear. It was a stark contrast to the presents he had received as a child, when every mysterious shape had been a source of mystery. Most of the presents he was giving this year were perfunctory tributes of sweaters and socks, meant only to affirm that you didn’t really know someone well enough to choose a gift for them. There were a couple for him on the seat too, from other relatives and coworkers, but the shapes told him already that the biggest surprise would be what spirit was in the bottle. Lily’s new outfit was probably his only success at giving something slightly more original. Except for Dad’s gift, of course, sitting in a decidedly un-sock-like irregular parcel at the bottom of the pile. David was sure the old man wouldn’t be expecting it, but less certain whether it violated the enigmatic rules of regifting. A spark of genuine excitement flickered in David’s chest when he wondered how Dad would react to being presented with a purportedly magical treasure after so many years. If nothing else, he could hope it would bring back positive memories. “Surprising Dad has to be worth bonus points,” he told himself. “The man who supposedly knows every possible twist.” He allowed himself a proud smile, imagining his father's face lighting up with childlike wonder. But the pleasant daydream was short-lived, as unbidden reminders of his recently-ended relationship crept in like unwelcome holiday guests. “We were supposed to start our own traditions this year,” he sighed. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel until he forced himself to get a grip and relax a little. “Not look for ways to revisit memories I don’t even remember. Hot cocoa by the fire might have been sweet, or matching pyjamas. Picking out our first tree together. Something that’s special just for us. And now…” He shook his head, trying to dispel the bittersweet memories. “Focus on the good stuff, David. Family. Presents. Mom’s cinnamon rolls.” But even as he listed those comforts, his mind wandered traitorously back to the ghosts of relationships past. The mental echo of her laughter mingled with the cheerful carols on the radio, and David knew it would be a long time before he could consider letting her go. As long as he was alone, those memories could keep tormenting him forever. “It's not fair,” he whispered. “We had it all planned out. What am I supposed to do? Just forget everything that was good?” And that was the real problem. Everything had been good. It had almost been perfect. They had been building a future together, and they had been perfect for each other. They had the same kinds of jobs, and both liked to travel. When they came to plan something, whether it was a trip together or moving into their new apartment ready for the holidays, they had always been on exactly the same wavelength. Sarah had understood him. They had an apartment lined up. They’d planned together how to decorate it. Both the regular decor and the festive additions. They’d chosen a tree, and picked out matching tasteless Christmas sweaters for each other. Everything had pointed towards a long and happy life together. Or so he thought, right up until she said that she’d had enough. They’d been perfect, and now they were nothing. He’d really thought that he’d found the right person for him this time. They had a future together. Romance, happiness, an apartment, and maybe even marriage. He had been so sure it would last. And now, he couldn’t bear to tell his family why he was crawling back to them with his tail between his legs, instead of starting new traditions for the two of them like he had wanted. He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed the turning. He had been cruising along the ridge road, with the rich neighbourhoods that ringed the town showing off their elaborate decorations to his right. But as he crested the hill he took a turn to the left and all those lights were soon gone behind him. Now he was on a narrow country road, with the only illuminated trees being the ones that lurched out of the gloom each time his headlights found a turn ahead. David had to focus on driving now, he didn’t want to get distracted here. Next year they would have come here. After making a home with his girlfriend, he would have wanted to introduce her to his parents. But that wouldn’t be this late at night, with plans changed at the last minute, dreading every question that they might ask. They probably already knew that David and Sarah were single again. He hadn’t told anyone, but his parents surely knew that a man would only come home for Christmas if he was a singleton without any other possibilities for the holidays. And they hadn’t asked why or how. Those questions would come when he was least expecting it, and he had to be ready. Lily might not ask; bringing up something like that would be a low blow, and he thought that she would probably stay cautious until she knew more. But his parents would be legitimately curious, maybe even wanting to help him. And questions asked innocently could hurt all the more. “It’s Christmas,” he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “There’s other stuff to talk about, they won’t be so worried about me.” But saying the words didn’t make them feel real. He was spending the holidays single again, and even if they didn’t pressure him for the details they would know that his planned future had fallen apart. They would be looking down at him like he looked down on himself, and the only thing he could do was put on a show of not caring. That way everybody else could avoid thinking about it too much. But how could he– A horn blared, and David jerked the wheel sharply to one side. His headlights illuminated fence posts and a frost-covered field, dragging his mind right back to the practical realities of a journey back to his childhood home. He must have drifted towards the middle of the road while he was lost in his own thoughts, and there was no better reminder of the immediate realities of his situation. The road, the trees, the darkness; those needed all his attention right now. He didn’t have time to lose himself in endless worries about what might have been, or he wouldn’t get home at all. At least he wasn’t far away now. He glanced out of the side window, where he could see the first traces of red and gold light becoming visible between the trees. Just another couple of hair-raising bends in the darkness, and then he would be back in the village of his childhood. The place of so many adventures, some of which could even have been real memories. On their way back to the road ahead, David’s eyes lingered again on the gifts in the passenger seat. On the present he was returning to Dad. His father had always been an amazing storyteller, and it was only natural that David would have wanted to follow in his footsteps, until he found his own path in life and someone to follow it with. But he should have known that Dad would always be the master of that craft. From the books that everyone clamoured to get from the school library, to the more personal narrative of his bedtime stories, Dad had a story for everyone. “No wonder I remember dragons,” David whispered to himself, and laughed. A masterful storyteller, who integrated elements from their everyday lives into his stories, so that looking back now it was hard for David to draw a line between real memories, his dreams as a child, and the stories Dad had told him. That had been something he wondered about for years, anyway. Whether the stories he had told Dad about his dreams had become inspiration for his published books as well as the bedtime stories they shared; or whether it was the stories that had inspired the dreams. It seemed like it didn’t really matter after so many years, but he would still have been curious whether his fruitful imagination as a child had been original. One more sharp bend passed by without incident, and then the road was illuminated by the simple light displays of the houses beside it. He was back in the village now, passing Mrs Finch’s cottage, and the rectory. Remembering how much trouble he’d gotten into when he was younger for building a treehouse in the orchard there. Seeing the spire of St Michael’s church, visible only where it blotted out the stars on a moonless night; and his mind’s eye furnishing the darkness with memorable landmarks that were so familiar his inability to see them didn’t matter at all. He was home now, and he took a deep breath as he relaxed for the last fifteen minutes of the drive. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he reassured himself. Maybe he would run into old school friends while he was still in town and have enough fun to push more recent events out of his mind; or meet an old flame and get a second chance to say the right things. It was unlikely, sure, but Christmas was supposed to be a time of miracles. And he was sure that there were endless possibilities better than the loneliness he anticipated. So long as he kept a smile on his face, anything could happen. Martina, devoted mother Martina’s hands trembled slightly as she measured flour into a mixing bowl. She frowned at the small dusting of white scattered across her pristine countertop, an occurrence which had become increasingly common this year. It wasn’t a significant problem, as she would have to dust a work surface with flour in order to roll out the dough in any case; and there was no reason why it shouldn’t be here. But her declining worry was one of several small worries coming hand in hand with her age and, hopefully, wisdom. But the familiar motions of holiday baking brought their own comfort. No matter how hard it became, this was one ritual she was determined to maintain. She could have asked Lily to help her with this, of course. Her daughter was right there, carefully guiding an electric whisk around a mixing bowl as she combined the butter and sugar. Emerald eyes remained focused on Martina’s hands, ready to offer help the instant she sensed it was wanted, and yet she somehow held enough awareness to keep her hair out of trouble each time some movement sent those energetic red tresses bouncing from her shoulders towards the bowl. Martina should have been delighted to have Lily here and David on the way. Every year since high school – and even the last year before graduation, when Lily had joined her classmates in delivering gifts to children less fortunate than themselves – Martina had hoped and prayed when waiting to see which of her children would be here this year. And yet when she could finally entertain both of them for the holidays, she could only wish that it hadn’t turned out this way. Just three weeks ago, they had known that David would be spending his first Christmas in a new home with his latest girlfriend, so when he had asked to come home for the holidays there was little doubt about the story he would come to share. And Martina would happily have sacrificed her family reunion if it meant her son could have the life he wanted. “I’m sorry, David,” she whispered, as if her own wishes might have contributed to his misfortune. “The cookies will cheer him up,” Lily said, with a little forced brightness in her voice. “Remember how he used to steal them right off the cooling rack?” “Mmm,” Martina agreed absently, studying Lily's face as she spoke. “And like you did too, though I suspect you ate more of them. David liked to present still warm cookies to that Becky next door, didn’t he?” “Clarissa,” Lily corrected with a smile. “Becky was the one with the puppy, wasn’t she? Or the… No, wait, that wasn’t really…” She stood lost in thought for a moment, the whisk driving all the sweet mixture to the other side of the bowl as it rested for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t remember our childhood as much as I thought. So many friends, and crazy times, it’s hard to keep straight in my mind. Sometimes I wonder if I get my memories mixed up with the stuff we watched on TV, or dad’s old stories.” “It all becomes a blur after enough years,” Martina said. But she was sure she was right now. Lily often talked as if she was so excited she couldn’t keep in all the things she wanted to say. But now, the way her eyes darted down and didn’t quite meet her mother’s, it was more like she was talking to avoid thinking about what was really on her mind. But she would talk when she was ready, Martina was sure of that. And she didn’t want Lily to feel pressured into addressing something she wasn’t ready for yet. She thought it would be better all around if the conversation could just drift back onto a non-controversial topic. “But the things that matter are always there,” she said, feeling a little proud of herself for the segue. “You remember the time your brother snuck into Seamus’s study and perched himself in front of the typewriter? That’s one memory out of so many adventures, but I remember it like it was yesterday.” “He said he was going to be a great writer, just like Dad,” Lily confirmed with a laugh that might have been real. “But we were four then, or five, and he still needed help to spell his own name right. Always the optimist, our David.” “Has he told you any more about why he’s coming?” Martina asked carefully, keeping her tone light as the flour she was sifting. “He never even mentioned it to me,” Lily answered. “Didn’t tell me he was going to be here. I’d already mailed a gift to that new apartment, and now I bet Sarah will keep it for herself. He’s lucky he’s so easy to shop for, so I could nip out to buy something in town.” She had stopped her whisk while she was talking, but now she seemed to notice that Martina’s hands weren’t moving either. “What?” she said. “You think she would have passed it on to him? Trust is trust, but a dollar is a dollar, and even the smallest gift can turn into a credit note if you have the receipt.” Martina was startled, and didn’t quite know how to respond. The words were harsh, but they were also an exact mirror of the things she herself had never been able to say about the woman who had been the love of David’s life at the end of summer. “Better not say that in front of David,” she said eventually, while Lily resumed her baking duties with renewed energy. Each year, Martina was surprised by how much Lily or David took after her or Seamus. There was as much physical similarity between them as you might expect for any group of four strangers, with the biggest commonality being an off-white skin tone; but when it came to the way they thought and felt, or how the readiness with which they banded together against anyone who hurt a family member, there was no doubt that they were a family. The same was especially true of Lily and David. They were fierce rivals, teasing each other as mercilessly as any siblings ever had. But if an outsider ever criticised one in earshot of the other, they would have each other’s back in an instant. There was no way anyone could be closer, not even the twins in fiction who had powers of telepathy or similar fantasies. But almost two months between Lily and David’s birthdays left no space at all where anyone could possibly come between them. Glancing at the clock, Martina quickly called for a little help to swap around the baking trays in the oven. There were four different kinds of treats in the oven now, from Christmas cake to butter cookies, and she carefully took down a pen to make a note on a scrap of paper pinned to the corkboard. She was confident in her ability to remember what needed to come out at what time, but sometimes it was better to be safe than sorry. The kitchen quickly filled with the aroma of sweet spices, giving a hint that the next batch was going to be just as good as they were every year. “That smells lovely!” Lily commented, after taking a deep breath. “Vanilla creams? Oh, did I tell you about the new coffee shop near the market? They have these ice cream floats that actually taste like vanilla. I’ve been going there almost every week, though… I wouldn’t be much of a fitness specialist if I was filling up on treats every time. Most days I just get these peppermint mochas.” “That sounds nice,” Martina answered quickly. “I shall have to try it some time, if I can find the opportunity to visit. I’m sure your father would love being able to see your new habitat, and I don’t think we’ve actually visited you since you had that place in Bay City. You found an amazing little bistro there as well, didn’t you? Seems it’s something you have a knack for.” “You should have known that when all the girls in school were going to Starbucks for those fancy milkshakes and I wanted to try the espressos,” Lily answered with the obligatory chuckle. “Always been a coffee addict. But yeah, I’d love to see you some time. Haven’t got a big spare room, though, and it’s finding a time when I’m not on call that’s a pain these days. Don’t want to disappoint my regular clients. But I’d love to show you around. It’s not too far to travel for you?” “Shush!” Martina laughed. “I’m not that old yet. We could probably get a bus and enjoy the ride. Or make a road trip of it, just like the olden days. I’d take turns driving with Seamus and have a break to stretch our legs whenever we pass some tourist trap. Call it an early mid-life crisis, trying to recapture our misspent youth.” “Not that early now, Mum,” Martina answered, and it seemed the amusement in her voice was more real this time. Something was clearly bothering her, but this subject had drawn her mind away to happier memories. “Heck, I’m probably closer to a mid-life crisis than you are. If you’re still middle-aged we might overtake you in ten years.” “Time marches on,” Martina said with a sigh. “I remember when you only came up to my knee. Now those were some Christmases. Remember when David borrowed your father’s Three Wishes Ring and asked a genie if we could meet Santa?” “He used to get so caught up in our dreams and fantasies,” Lily said, smiling again. “No matter what we imagined, he’d play along with us as if it were real. You both would, and no daydream was too absurd. I read some of my old diaries when I was moving, and there’s everything from wizards to aliens in there. Maybe I should have tried writing books about it too; but I already knew where I wanted my life to go by the time I was old enough to understand how magical that writing was.” “And how’s life going?” Martina asked, not watching Lily’s expression right now because her eyes were fully occupied as she pried some of her special winter gingerbread off its tray and made a neat display on a serving plate. “I hope that your love life has been less chaotic than your brother’s.” “I’ve not met the right guy yet,” Lily answered, as always. And then she stopped where she was standing and looked down at her hands, lost in her own thoughts for the shortest fraction of a second. “I guess that stuff doesn’t really matter for me.” “Oh, honey,” Martina said, and almost reached out to offer a hug, forgetting about the tray and oven mitts for the smallest fraction of a second. She put them down instead, before turning around. “There’s nothing wrong with taking your time. You’re getting your career in order first, so that you know you’ll be able to pay your share when you start dating, and that’s very responsible. There’s nothing wrong with doing your own thing until the right guy crosses your path. Or the right girl, if that’s better for you. And you’re still young, whatever it might seem.” “No, it’s not… Lily answered, and the worries she had been hiding were on display on her face now. She was nervous, not ready to share, and Martina wished that she hadn’t tried to help without thinking first. She didn’t know what the problem was, and it seemed like the moment hadn’t actually been right for motherly advice. “I’m sorry, honey,” Martina tried again. “I spoke without thinking. Maternal instincts can be a little too strong at times. We don’t have to talk about this if you’re not ready. Christmas is a time for fun, yes?” “And cookies,” Lily pointed out. “Dad’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t get these while they’re still warm.” She picked up a batch, and hurried through into the lounge. Watching her go, Martina couldn’t help worrying about her daughter now. There was clearly something worrying her, some setback in her life, but Lily wasn’t ready to share it yet. Martina knew that she would open up when she was ready, but it was hard to keep her thoughts away from the topic, and she knew that she would be worrying about Lily until she knew just what the problem was. It wouldn’t be a romance thing, that wasn’t like her at all, but it was clear that there were clouds on the horizon in some way. Martina picked up another selection of her baking and followed through to the lounge, hoping that the conversation wouldn't be too strained until Lily was ready to share. Seamus was sitting in his usual armchair, silver hair catching the winter light from the window as he checked his phone again. Even after all these years, seeing him there still brought a flutter to her heart – the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was worried, the gentle way he held himself as if ready to spring into action at any moment. Even though leaping into action these days was likely to be a case of picking up his phone and giving advice to children who were still less prepared for some of the complexities of the world. His head was bowed over his phone now, but looked up as Martina and Lily sat down on the couch. “Any word?” Martina asked. “Not yet,” he said. “He should have been here by now. Unless Mockingbird Lane is flooded and he has to go the long way around, but I saw one of those council trucks only last week, trying to clear the leaves out of all the drains. And he would have called, wouldn’t he?” “He’s probably on the way,” Lily said. “He knows his way here, doesn’t he? Maybe he doesn’t realise how late it’s getting, or there’s nowhere to pull off and make a phone call. We should try some of these cookies, and try not to worry about him until we know more.” Seamus nodded, and turned his phone face-down on the arm of his chair. And then he reached out for one of the ginger thins, carefully holding his left hand beneath it to catch any crumbs before they could desecrate his favourite sweater. He took a bite and closed his eyes to savour the taste, and just for one moment Martina was glad to find something that could leave her husband speechless.

This is my first attempt at a story, and my first ever post here but don't think that means I don't expect criticism because I not only do but I welcome it! I know there's a ton of writers out there doing amazing things in the pantheon of stories for this and other sites and while I hope I can at least bring something enjoyable to you good folks, I won't fool myself into thinking this story is going to be spectacular, it's just something I've been meaning to write for a long time but was always too afraid to display my attempt at writing. If you enjoy the story let me know, if you don't enjoy the story let me know and if you think I can do better and should try again let me know. I'm really very agreeable to critique even if it's harsh. This story is 100% fiction and in no way is intended to be based on anyone's real life or experiences therein. There is an underage character in the prologue but it's just to establish a history for his life more than anything. I know there's a rule about underage characters and I feel that I've followed the rules but if there's a problem please remove the story with my sincerest apologies and I'll rework the narrative to avoid it going forward. I think that's everything I wanted to say, but I could be stalling for time because once I submit this it's out there and omg it's so nerve wracking but I'm gonna do it...go! A New Life Story By: Ramble Lamb Prologue I don't remember much of my life from before. I'm sorry, that was a fib, I remember everything about my life from before but it seems like the story of someone else's experiences more than anything I'd ever had. Thinking about who I was and what I had seems almost like reading a eulogy for some stranger in the newspaper, it can give you an idea of who the person was from the point of view of someone that knew them and cared enough to pay per word to share why they thought this person was worthy of space on a page but it doesn't really tell you anything about who the person really was. As an example, if I were to tell you about myself right now I'd use descriptions like 'adorable' or 'girly' but if I were to do the same thing before I'd have to use words like 'husband' and 'adult'. Those are just words though, letters strung together to form a recognizable pattern that your brain associates with an understanding of what that word means which can be very different from what it means to someone else. If you were to look at me right now, my long brown hair in loose pigtails, a purple glittery pacifier bobbing rhythmically between my lips as my baby pink painted nails dance across the keyboard then you might see a young woman with an oral fixation hard at work on her computer. If you looked longer you'd notice budding breasts beneath an almost lavender shirt proudly labeling me "Daddy's Princess" in rainbow glitter. The young woman you'd previously gotten an image of now seems to be more immature than you'd first assumed, perhaps the pacifier isn't solely being used to assuage an oral fixation but rather is part of a personality cultivated in the hopes of holding onto the younger self of this young woman. If I were to stand up from my chair to give you a look at the full picture you'd see that the shirt extended beyond the length of a normal shirt, going down past my waist, stretching over a bulk that one doesn't typically see adorning young women my age, connecting between my legs with snaps to keep the previously mentioned bulk from falling when any additional weight is added to it. Beneath the bulk are my thin legs, smooth as silk with a lovely tan to them and the image ends at my little feet encased in soft shoes colored to match my shirt and secured with lovely ribbons tied into bows at the top of each shoe. Overall, this image would be viewed by many as adorable when attached to a biological infant or toddler, but being that I am very much not either of those things, I'm probably seen with a healthy mix of strange looks and harsh judgment but, in all fairness, I don't dress like this out in the world beyond these walls I call home. The nice thing about clothes and makeup is that they allow someone to be whatever they want to be. Admittedly, I wouldn't have guessed that I wanted to be this, but when I have my hair done and am allowed to have a bit of makeup I feel every part the pretty little girl I've come to identify as. When I'm wearing a pretty dress or even just something in one of my favorite colors of pink or purple I feel cute and lovable. I told you before that my life before was someone else's story but it isn't, not really, it's my story and even though it ends with me being a happy and much loved baby girl it starts with me being selfish and naughty and I know now that those are two very not good things to be. ************************************************************************** I was born Nicholas Henry Marks some thirty odd years ago. I had no siblings and my mother was my sole parent. My father had made me with my mother when she was his secretary and he was having marital discord with his wife so needless to say he didn't jump at the chance to settle down with us in nice little family unit. My mother provided for us quite well and, though she never said it aloud, lavished me with love and attention because I was her only keepsake of her one true love. As I grew up she became increasingly fixated on me, going beyond "helicopter parenting" into the realm of doing everything in her power to keep me in a position of needing her. Obviously I don't remember too much of my young life, but I've seen the photo albums with pictures dated from when I was five years old playing happily in cloth diapers and plastic pants without a care in the world. I've heard the stories from cousins, aunts and uncles about how they thought I'd never get out of diapers or how they were glad my mother had stopped breastfeeding me before I'd hit double digits in age. I remember some things, like sleeping in my mother's bed the night of my first grade class' Christmas performance. After the show we'd been taken back to the classroom to wait for our parents to pick us up and it being nighttime, my mother had declared it necessary for me to have my "night pants" on beneath my normal clothes. I remember needing to use the bathroom for something other than tinkle and had wandered out of the class in search of a quiet place to fill my diaper away from the prying eyes of my classmates. Ironically enough I chose a spot near the restrooms, a dark little corner where I squatted down and started pushing only to have a hand clamp down on my shoulder a few seconds in causing me to scream and empty myself out of fear rather than necessity. I'd turned to find my mother looking down at me with tears in her eyes, worried I'd been kidnapped when she'd gone to my classroom and was unable to find me. Seeing her crying and having a full diaper caused me to begin crying as well as I held up my arms to be picked up and carried away. When we got home that night she'd changed me first thing and then settled into her bed with me and held me on her lap as she undid her nursing bra and presented me with something to both soothe me to sleep and fill my recently emptied stomach. Now, I know that that account can be seen as deeply wrong and probably disgusting, and you're not wrong. Looking back as an adult, I know that her actions greatly impacted my life in ways that made me who I am today. The truth is that even if she was wrong and even if she was possibly abusive in her coddling and infantilization of me at such a young and impressionable age, it set me on the path to become who I was meant to be, and that me is so very happy and wouldn't change a single thing about her life. After I was fully potty trained and weaned from bottle or breast I led a pretty normal life. I was a good kid, probably could have done better in school but I made friends and had fun and didn't end up dead or in jail. I never did very well with girlfriends, but some of that was the disconnect with what I thought was normal in an intimacy setting and what they thought was normal. My first girlfriend didn't think it was at all normal that I spent so much time sucking on her breasts in what was supposed to be foreplay that I ended up finishing in my pants before she'd even started breathing heavy. Second girlfriend was a take charge kind of girl in the bedroom and had given up the ghost when I failed to get aroused as she straddled me and grinded her pelvis against mine. She'd called me a few not very nice names that I won't risk a spanking to write here for you. The important thing is that we've established that I was in no way a hit with the ladies. I knew I was straight and that I wanted to have sex with women but not in the strictest sense, I didn't know anything about sex at the time beyond penis goes into vagina and that's where babies come from. As I got older and the internet was becoming a thing that people had in their homes the world started to make more sense to me and I began to learn things about myself that helped me to not feel so different and freakish. I'd always had a fixation on things like diapers and baby things as far back as I could remember but with puberty in full swing I started to associate the pleasurable feelings that wearing a homemade diaper, that was really just a bath towel duct taped around my waist, gave me with something sexual. My first ever intentional orgasm was achieved on the floor of my room with a pee soaked towel taped to me and a thumb in my mouth sucking greedily as my other hand rubbed frantically at my damp groin. The shame and confusion I felt in those early years was almost palpable but, thanks in part to my deviant internet searches I discovered that other people were just like me and what I was wasn't wrong or disgusting and everything was okay. *************************************************************************** Moving forward to more current events, my wife and I had met online in a chatroom for people that liked to pretend to be children or even sometimes babies looking to meet people that liked to take care of those people. We'd hit it off almost immediately in the general chat area and quickly moved to a private chat to be able to discuss personal matters without someone spamming "Mommy I poppy peez change me diapy" or other offensive to basic human intelligence nonsense. We talked for hours a day for months on end and found that we had so much in common beyond just our kinks and fetishes. The obvious problem of distance was something we only ever discussed to express our sorrow that we weren't able to hug and kiss one another, something that happened most often around bedtime when she'd watch me through the webcam as I put a diaper on and got into my pajamas becoming her little boy in every sense of the term as she began to read me a story to help me get sleepy for bed and then at the end of the story she'd kiss the camera and wish me a goodnight and then the fantasy world where baby and Mommy were together was over and I'd find myself shuffling into a cold bed wishing to be cuddling with her as I fell asleep. As it became clear we were actively working to close the distance between us she began to enforce more dominance in our relationship. It started small with her suggesting I have a regular bedtime to ensure I was well rested and stayed healthy, she'd have me text her pictures of my meals to make sure I was eating right and not glutting myself on sweets and junk. When she first brought up wearing a diaper outside of the safety of my own apartment I stood up for myself and told her that made me uncomfortable and she dropped it, for a while at least. A week or so later she randomly showed up at my front door and I was so overcome with joy that I didn't even question the fact that something of that magnitude should have been discussed and planned as a couple rather than decided solely by her but my Mommy was there for real and I was too happy to know anything else but love and excitement. Within an hour of her arriving she had me naked on the bed waiting for her to return with the required supplies to transform me into her baby boy. My manhood was harder than it had ever been and my heart was beating like a jackhammer in my chest as I heard the bathroom door open and saw her stride confidently into the room. She'd changed out of the clothes she'd worn for her trip and was now wearing a black and white polka dot dress that stopped in the middle of her deliciously toned thighs. Her high heels were bright red to match her lipstick and nail polish and her black hair was done up into a tight bun to give her the look of a no nonsense mother figure made all the more powerful against her porcelain white skin. She smirked at me as she glided to the bed and set her supplies down near my feet as she sat at the edge of the bed and lightly brushed the shaft of my penis with her fingers. I ejaculated as soon as she reached my balls, covering my stomach and pubic area with my shameful display. She clucked her tongue and declared that messes of that nature were why she would ensure I was diapered until she believed I could be trusted to control myself, none of her words made any impact on me as my head swam and I felt myself slip into my little headspace, clutching my stuffed otter and sucking my pacifier as she offered each to me and set about cleaning me up and getting me properly attired. That first time together was where she secured her hold on me and established her dominance for the rest of our relationship. By the time she went back home a week later she'd, through spankings and time outs and even a mouth soaping, made me into the perfect specimen for a good little boy and I bawled uncontrollably as she pulled away from my apartment and headed to the airport and back to her life without me. I made it my mission in life to continue to show her at every opportunity that I was obeying her edicts without her supervision in the hopes that it would spur her to come back or invite me to come to her. I started wearing diapers all the time, making sure to text her pictures every day so she could verify my compliance and I'd drink up her praise every time she told me I was a good baby, but it wasn't enough, I needed to be with her. When I surprised her by showing up at her doorstep one day it didn't go as I'd expected. The whole thing fell apart when the front door opened and a man much larger and imposing than myself answered. He recognized me and welcomed me in which, in my state of shock, I complied with and found myself in the living room of a well kept and quite lovely home, pictures of Mommy and this mahogany god of a man adorning the walls including one of them on their wedding day. To say that my heart sank in that moment would be quite an understatement and, against my wishes and strongest attempts to keep it together, I began to cry because I felt lied to and betrayed by someone that I'd willingly given my entire self to. Her husband had put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me into him for a hug as he gently patted my back and assured me that everything was okay. He showed me to a spare bedroom at the back of the house, one that only had a bed and dresser in it and nothing else. I was told Mommy would be home in a few hours and that I could take a nap if I was tired from my trip. Depression aided my weariness and I fell asleep without much issue, waking up some time later to Mommy stroking my hair and urging me to get up because I'd wet the bed. I remember apologizing profusely and offering to leave between sobs and sniffles but I was shushed and led by the hand to the bathroom where she stripped me down as the large tub filled with water. Husband entered the room as she gently rubbed my back and took my wet clothes, chuckling softly to himself as I gasped and tried to cover my naughty bits. As I sat in the tub and she lovingly washed me she explained that she was sorry for not telling me she was married but that they were planning on separating because they mutually wanted something else. She explained that they still loved each other and would remain friends as they had for the years they'd dated and the ones they were married for, but she wanted to be a Mommy and a strong and virile man such as her husband just wasn't going to be the baby she needed. She lifted my head and looked me square in the eyes and told me that I was her baby and just as soon as was humanly possible she wanted to marry me and have the perfect life she'd been craving for so many years. Looking back on it now, it probably should have been seen as a bad sign that a major life decision was made without me being asked and while I peed into a married couple's bathtub as the wife washed me. Chapter One: Not To Be Trusted "Nicholas Henry Marks, you get in here this instant!" my wife bellowed from the living room. As with being a biological child, all three of your names being used to summon you by an authority figure is just as terrifying when you're a grownup, albeit a grownup currently wearing a wet diaper beneath his Spider-Man pajama pants, but a chronological grownup nonetheless. When the holy trinity of names is used in our house it's very clear that an adult man is not expected to arrive, rather, the use of the three names acts as a switch that shuts off all adult thought and will and leaves only the outer appearance of an adult with the soft and creamy center being nothing more than a terrified child that knows a punishment is coming but has no idea what form it will take. Shuffling nervously down the hall, rustling loudly with each tiny step, I fought the urge to suck my thumb, knowing that any minor comfort it may bring me would pale in comparison to the humiliating barbs that would be rained down upon me for being a pathetic excuse for a man. It sounds harsh, but it's part of what butters my biscuits so everyone ends up happy, usually after a trip across Mommy's lap and a stint in the corner, but the aftercare is wonderful so net happiness after all is said and done. She stood in the living room with her hands on her wide hips, her high heeled toe tapping on the wood floor impatiently as I rounded the corner. "Do you have anything you'd like to tell me, young man?" she asked sharply, her tone indicating that I clearly should have something to tell her but no specific thing was hinted at. My mind struggled to come up with something I'd done or forgotten to do, something I'd done when I wasn't the baby of the house perhaps? There actually had been a stretch of almost a month recently where work schedules and general life stuff had kept me in the "man of the house" role, but some spare time had come up the night before and I'd found myself on the receiving end of some lovely regression time with Mommy that had ended with a sticky mess in the front of my diaper and a story before bed. In case you were wondering, this was not the same diaper I was currently wearing, I'd gone through a few since then thanks to my smaller than average bladder. "No, Mommy." I told her honestly, completely unable to come up with anything that would earn her ire. She nodded and walked toward me, pinching the top of my ear between her thumb and index finger, leading me over to the chair on the other side of the living room and pointing down to a small spot or purple on the cream colored upholstery. "Did you spill juice and not tell Mommy?" she asked. My diaper began to warm as I stared at the spot and nodded without saying anything. "And how did you manage to spill juice?" she asked impatiently. I swallowed hard as tears began to form in my eyes. Without thinking my hand was rising to my face, thumb extended aiming for my mouth to help quell a full blown meltdown but she slapped my hand away before my salvation could reach me. With a heavy sigh she sat on the chair and pulled me across her lap and tugged my pants down around my legs. "I think thirty should be a good start." she mused aloud before she slid my diaper down, exposing my hairless and still powder and lotion coated behind and began to deliver the sharp swats she'd planned out. I was a blubbering mess by five and in hysterics at the end of it when she stood me back up next to her, leaving my pants and diaper down where they were. "I'm sorry, Mommy!" I cried out between sobs and snot bubbles. She looked at me with disgust and shook her head. "Sorry isn't good enough, young man, not this time." she began. "You've been far too free this past month and clearly it's time for you to be reminded of your place in this house." she said as she rose and led me by the hand to the corner of the living room where she stood me, nose to the wall and red bottom on display. "I think three months of baby time will help you to remember how things work around here." she declared. Without thinking I spun around and began to protest "That's too long, Mommy!" I whined. She smiled and knelt down, running her hand through my hair. "You know, I was going to let you be Nicky for three months, but since you think you can argue with me when it comes to your punishments, I think maybe you can be Nicki for three months instead." she said. "Oh, and I think Thanksgiving will be a perfect time to introduce my little girl to the rest of the family." she added as she guided my thumb into my mouth and spun me back around to the corner before leaving me to process the magnitude of just how bad things were going to be for me. *************************************************************************** So, some explanation is required. See, we're kinky as a couple, we have a Mommy and baby relationship and we've experimented with a fair amount of things in the years we've been together. In the quest for deeply humiliating and sexually gratifying things, we happened upon sissification. It started out as the usual calling my manhood into question which usually ends with me in a diaper being babied, but she'd apparently done her homework and found something she wanted to try and so rather than a diaper I was put into a pair of cute little panties, powder blue with little cartoon bears on the front and had to endure her putting makeup on me all while she commented on what a pretty little girl I was. It's really hard to put up resistance when your penis is straining against the inside of a childish pair of panties, in case you were wondering. At any rate, things began to escalate from there as a cute little party dress was added in a future session and from there she began to fondle me through my panties and under my dress until one night she began to finger my bottom, and as I helplessly came in my adorable little panties she knew she'd stumbled onto something that she could use anytime she wanted. She began to use anal stimulation to bring about climax more and more frequently after that, even going so far as to buy what she dubbed "babies first dildo", a translucent purple thing slightly bigger than her middle finger that she explained would be the only way I could self stimulate from now on under penalty of punishment. 'Nicki' was born shortly after that when she walked in on me working my new toy in and out of my bottom while hungrily sucking my thumb to stifle my pathetic moans of pleasure. "Show Mommy how much of a naughty little baby girl you are." she commanded as took a seat on the bed and watched my shameful display. "Cum for Mommy little girl!" she encouraged. When I finished shortly after that she put her hand in front of my spurting member, catching a fair amount on her palm and fingers and looked at the mess with a wicked smile before holding her hand to my face. "Are you going to be Mommy's good baby girl and clean her hand for her?" she asked in her syrupy sweet Mommy voice. I felt my face flush as leaned forward and stuck out my tongue, tears of shame rolling down my cheeks as I licked and sucked her fingers and hand clean. She beamed proudly at me and clapped her hands. "Such a good baby girl you are, Nicki!" she praised. "That's with an 'i' in case your little baby brain couldn't grasp it." she said with a chuckle as she set about to getting me cleaned and diapered for bed. ***************************************************************************** Thanksgiving was only a handful of weeks away and I wasted no time in trying to have my sentence commuted or dropped entirely if at all possible. The problem was that I'd been deemed "too little" to do the things I'd planned like cleaning the house and making dinner for us. "Mommy knows you want to be a big girl and make the house all pretty and clean, but I'm sorry to say that you're just too little to be able to handle such big responsibilities." she explained, suddenly finding something very amusing as she covered her mouth with her hadn to stifle a laugh. "Can you imagine how silly it would be for Mommy to let you make dinner when you can't even be trusted not make little baby messes on her nice furniture?" she asked rhetorically. I blushed hotly as she turned me around and nudged me from the kitchen with a gentle pat on my padded behind. I trudged back to my room, our marital bedroom was mostly off limits when I was being babied since a wet bed in the nursery was to be expected but one in Mommy's bed would be very costly indeed, and took my spot on the cityscape playmat in the middle of the room with a heavy sigh of resignation. I knew that my punishment started first thing the following day and two days from then I'd have to go back to work and while I was confident she wouldn't put me into a position where I'd lose my job, the concern that people I worked with would discover what was going on was very real. ***************************************************************************** The very first time I'd had to wear a diaper to work I was a nervous wreck the whole day. I'd been put on punishment for dribbling tinkle on the toilet seat and not cleaning it off and the small infraction had earned a week of diapers and a month of bathroom cleaning. I worked in an office and had a cubicle that thankfully afforded me some privacy but every slight crinkle was deafening to me and I was sure that before close of business I'd be the laughing stock of the entire office and demoted to the daycare center on the third floor like one of those ridiculous stories you read on the internet when you're into the ABDL scene, wink. In actuality, everything went off without a hitch almost the entire week minus an extremely close call on the third day when Mommy had come to take me to lunch and decided to change me on the backseat of the car in the parking garage. After the overly suspense filled change was complete I was given the balled up used diaper and sent to the nearby trashcan to dispose of it when a group of ladies came out of the elevator and started heading into the parking garage toward me. I dashed in between two cars and made a beeline to the trashcan, slamming the diaper in as fast as I could and hurrying back to the car, breathing a sigh of relief in seeing that the group of women was too busy talking and laughing about a movie they'd seen to even notice me. ***************************************************************************** The morning my punishment began started like any other, Mommy coming into the nursery and letting down the side of my crib and giving me a bottle of juice to drink while she got me out of my pajamas and wet overnight diaper. Rather than merely change me though, she left me naked and absently played with my morning hardened member while she waited for me to finish my bottle and then led me to the bathroom where she'd set up a wide array of shaving and hair removal supplies. While not overly hairy, I did have a small patch of hair above my manhood as well as a little on my chest, legs and under my arms. My face was always kept smooth but she made quick work of removing my body hair, even doing a little work on my little pucker in back. Satisfied with her work she got me into the tub and began washing me with a lovely smelling, if overly feminine soap and shampoo. Standing me up she began to thoroughly clean my most intimate areas, causing me to develop shaky legs as I began to pant softly and bite my lip to keep my moans from coming out. "Do you like it when Mommy touches your clitty and sissy hole, baby girl?" she asked in a sultry voice as her washrag encased finger traced a circle around my back entrance. I couldn't lie, though I wasn't pleased with the her new names for my parts or the moniker of 'baby girl', and nodded sheepishly as my thumb entered my mouth. She smiled and set the washrag aside as she rose to her feet and left the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with her hand behind her back. "Close your eyes, little one." she said in her sweet, motherly tone. I complied and felt her pull my thumb from my mouth gently followed by a familiar rubber texture teasing my lips, my mouth opened without a second thought but what I'd expected to enter it didn't and instead something more cylindrical went in. I opened my eyes and pulled the pacifier out by the ring on the guard revealing a small penis shaped bulb rather than the normal teat. I looked up at her in surprise and shook my head "I don't want this!" I whined. She smirked at my little outburst and guided the thing back into my mouth. "Mommy didn't ask you, sweetie." she said mater of factly as she tied the pink satin ribbon connected to the pacifier ring behind my neck. "Since my little girl likes sucking her thumb so much, Mommy figured it was probably time to introduce her to a little practice penis she can suck on just in case she meets a special boy when we're out on the town." she explained with a derisive laugh at my expense. I spat the little dick from my mouth and scowled at her. "I'm not going to suck anyone's cock!" I screamed, instantly regretting my outburst as she leaned forward and began smacking my still wet behind with her open palm. "For the next three months you're my baby GIRL," she began, overly emphasizing the change in my gender. "that means you're going to be whatever my idea of the perfect baby girl is." she continued as her blows continued to rain down, her free hand stuffing my new pacifier back into my wailing mouth. "So, if I decide you're going to suck some cock then you better prepare to pucker up, angel." she snapped as she stopped spanking me and sat me back down in the water harshly, causing my burning behind to scream in agony the second it touched the hot water and floor of the tub. "Now, if you really want to fight me on this then we can discuss it like adults once your punishment is over, but until such time as you're considered an adult around here, you'll do as you're told. Am I understood?" she asked as she looked down on me with her most domineering gaze. I sniffled and sucked the little penis pacifier...penisfier? sullenly as I looked up at her and nodded weakly. "Yef Mommy." I managed to get out between sucks and sobs. She nodded her head sharply and stood me back up, pulling the plug in the drain and helping me out of the tub before wrapping me in a large and fluffy pink towel. "Good girl, now let's get you dressed and ready, Mommy needs to get her little girl some clothes today." she said as she began drying me off. To Be Continued...