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Well, here goes. I've been a lurker on this site for quite some time, and whilst I've enjoyed reading a great many of the stories people have posted here, I've struggled to pick up a metaphorical pen and write something myself. Whilst I never struggle for ideas, motivating myself to sit down and actually flesh them out into actual stories has always been a problem for me. Now though, I've got something written and edited to where I'm comfortable sharing it. This isn't the first bit of ABDL fiction I've ever written, but it is the first I've published here. So, without letting this awkward ramble go on any longer, here's chapter 1 of Breaking Ground. A fanfic set in the same world as @Little Sherri's Shifting Sands. Written with very kind permission from the author. Any and all feedback, criticism, advice and even suggestions would be greatly welcomed. Breaking Ground Chapter 1 - Stranger in a Strange Land “George? Earth to George, we’re here buddy.” The boy in question pulled his face up from where it had been buried in the backlit screen of his Nintendo 3DS. He’d been too busy losing himself in the game to hear the voice of his godmother. Or even realise that the car had stopped moving. Hastily, he slid the plastic stylus he’d been using to dictate battle commands back into the slot on the back of the console and closed the screen, the colourful, pixelated Pokémon adventure cutting to instant black. “Sorry.” He spoke quietly as he sheepishly slid the metallic blue rectangle into the pocket of his jeans and met her expectant gaze in the driver's mirror. Blue eyes looked at him as he fumbled to undo the seatbelt and shuffle over towards the door of the absurdly large SUV to pull on the handle and let himself out, only to find it wouldn’t budge. It took him another try to realise that just shoving wasn’t going to accomplish anything as he looked around for what was keeping him locked in, as his godmother let herself out without issue and moved over to the back passenger side of the car. With a click, the mystery was answered, as the little lock thingy on the door popped up, and George felt a little embarrassed that he’d not realised the child lock was engaged. Did she really need to use that? He wasn’t some toddler. There was a soft clunk as the door pulled open and George was free to leave, swinging his legs around and half jumping out of the car onto the pavement next to the spot they’d parked in. Or sidewalk, as everyone else here would call it. “Let's go.” His guardian smiled reassuringly at him in the way adults do when they’re trying to get you to think something won’t be a big deal, but never really make you feel any better. She’d slipped a pair of sunglasses on, and George was starting to wish he’d said yes when she’d offered to bring him a pair when they’d left the house. Alice – it was always Alice, she insisted he not call her Mrs Warding – had dressed for the hot summer weather in a pair of bright blue jeans and a light grey tank top. George was dressed in jeans as well, along with a plain green shirt that fitted snugly enough under the jeans that he didn’t need to bother with a belt. Both items of clothing were brand new. He’d ripped the tags off them himself just this morning. He’d been rather surprised to discover them, and an entire wardrobe’s worth of new clothes waiting for him when he’d arrived at Alice’s home two days ago. Between the new clothes, the fancy car, the massive house and idyllic suburb it resided in, one thing had become clear to George in his short time spent in her care – his godmother was absolutely loaded. It wasn’t a total surprise to discover that. He’d never had much of an interest or knowledge of his mother's circle of friends, least of all one whom he’d never really met before and who lived on the other side of the world. But he’d picked up enough to know that she was some successful businessperson of some sort. Now, it was his mother who was now on the other side of the world and felt so distant from him, even after just a few days. He raised up a hand to shield the worst of the sun's gaze as he followed along besides Alice. He stuck close beside her, in a manner perhaps not quite befitting an eleven-year-old boy as they passed by a few buildings towards their destination. George knew that he should probably be more excited to be here, but recent events had dampened his attitude somewhat. When his mum had first floated the idea of him spending the summer holidays in America with his godmother, he had jumped at the idea. Sure, he didn’t really know Alice, but she was someone that his mother trusted. And any further concerns were overshadowed by the amazing prospect of escaping to a whole other country for seven weeks. For George, the chance to swap another dull and dreary summer in Northern England, for somewhere as cool as the States was a no-brainer. Any of his peers or friends would have jumped at the chance to go. What George hadn’t counted on was that Washington State was a ten-hour flight from London, which had meant an additional domestic flight to deal with to get down south. Multiple flights, stopovers, and half the day spent listening to the drone of engines had combined with acute jetlag to make George very tired and somewhat grouchy by the time it was all over. Alice had taken it in stride, but George could tell at the time that even she was strained by the days travel, and he’d been glad to simply be driven to his new home for the summer and stumble into bed, not even bothering to change clothes before falling asleep in the middle of the Cascadian day. What he’d woken up to in the middle of the night, and the night again after that, was the reason they were out shopping now. “Um, Alice.... Alice.” He repeated himself to grab her attention as they got towards the automatic doors to the convenience store. “Everything ok George?” “I just, uh. Well, do we have to?” He asked, smiling and pleading for his sentence to be reconsidered. “I’m really sorry. I swear it's never happened before, like ever. It was probably just all the jetlag, and all the coke I had with dinner, right? I don’t really need to bother with all of this...” He trailed off and started blushing, afraid of speaking any louder with strangers around or getting into specifics. Alice smiled and leaned down slightly to give his shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, it's not a big deal buddy, I promise. And you definitely don’t need to be sorry about it. These things happen, alright?” “But- “Buts are for ashtrays, as my grandmother used to say. You’re not in trouble for anything George, is that what’s bothering you?” She asked, concern in her voice. George knew this wasn’t him being in trouble and getting punished for it. But that wasn’t the point. He didn’t need this. They didn’t need to be here. “No...” He mumbled. He wished he could go back to the Pokémon gym battle that had taken his mind off things for the drive over here. “I know you think this is embarrassing. That’s ok. But you really don’t need to be. You’re far from the only boy in the world dealing with it. Now come on, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish, and we can go get a burger for lunch afterwards. Sound good?” She tried to tempt him. George managed a small smile at the offer. That did sound good. They practically never ate out at home. Mostly because his mom always fussed over his diet being high enough in fat and sodium already. Alice didn’t give him the chance to hesitate further, as she walked through into the store, and George followed, quickly stepping out of the way of a large man pushing a full shopping cart coming the other way. Having narrowly avoided getting his toes crushed, he realised that this probably wasn’t the best place to try and restart an argument about the necessity of this trip. His well-worn white and grey trainers squeaked slightly on the dull red-and-black-chequered tiling on the floor as he caught up to Alice, who had already acquired a red plastic basket from a nearby stack and slung it over her arm. He didn’t say anything further as he walked beside her down the main artery of the store. It was a local convenience place, not one of the big American chains. Or at least not one George had ever heard of. Still, it was a store, and since this trip was meant to be for him, he didn’t pull his game out of his pocket but instead settled for letting his eyes wander over the rows of shelves and occasionally the people who roamed them. Window shopping was perhaps one of the dullest forms of entertainment a boy like Geroge could imagine, but his circumstances at least made this occasion interesting. The many unfamiliar brands and names, stuff he’d only ever heard of like Twinkies, or stuff they never really got a lot of back home, like pop tarts. And stuff he was plenty familiar with, especially as they passed the crisp aisle and a half dozen familiar brands could be seen. At one point they passed what seemed to be an entire row dedicated to peanut butter, and George couldn’t help but wonder who could possibly need so many flavours and versions of the stuff. The food section came to an end as they entered an aisle offering fishing gear, tools, batteries, and other such supplies. It reminded him of the one rather miserable camping experience he’d had in his life – A rain and mud filled weekend spent in a freezing forest with a few other unfortunate members of the local Boy's Brigade chapter. It had been advertised as an adventure, but George mostly remembered the unending rain that soaked them to the skin and the portable stove that never seemed to stay on. Now he was with Alice, he wondered if a camping trip was something she might have planned for them. He knew there were a lot of woods and wilderness around this part of the country. It took so long to get to where they were going that it felt like it was almost deliberate. Rapidly running out of store, he felt almost like a prisoner being led to the gallows as they moved down the main aisle, with Alice as his cheery jailer. It seemed it was now or never to ask for a stay of execution. “I don’t need this.” He said quietly, a slight bitterness to his tone. Alice didn’t seem to hear. “Alice, we don’t need to -” “George, we’re right here, come on.” She reached out her hand that wasn’t cradling the basket and took his unexpectedly, her warm palm pressing into his as she pulled him down a side aisle. He felt her give him a gentle squeeze of reassurance that only served to make him feel even smaller, as he looked up and saw the wooden sign attached to the top of the shelving unit. Medicine & Hygiene Such an innocuous term still left blushes of crimson forming in his cheeks as he consciously took a breath and looked around him. He could see stacks of shampoo and bars of soap, toothpaste and toothbrushes in plastic wrappers. Various packs of pills and painkillers. Something called Tylenol, which it took him a second to remember was what they called Paracetamol over here. Cotton swabs, a few bottles of face lotion. It seemed they had a bit of everything here, and George felt his sense of dread grow as he waited to catch sight of what they had come for, and what he deduced had to be here somewhere. “Oh, here we go!” Alice sounded far too chipper for George's liking, and he looked over to see what she was looking at. Portraits of smiling toddlers and younger kids looked back at him through shiny plastic or cardboard packaging,flanked by white numbers and colourful images and patterns. “Let's see here then, what do they have?” Alice browsed for a few seconds as George developed a sudden fascination with the ingredients list on a bottle of shampoo. “They might be a bit snug, but I think these will probably fit you.” George blinked slowly, and felt his heart start to sink as he saw the pink plastic package Alice was holding out to present to him. His eyes shifted from looking at the packaging to Alice, then back again as he tried to figure out if she was joking. “These are for girls!” He blurted out. Alice tried to hand the package of Girls’ Goodnights to him, but he adamantly refused to take hold of it, letting go of her hand. He felt the heat of anger building within him. This wasn’t fair, it was total crap! He didn’t need any of this! He wasn’t a bedwetter, never had been, his entire life! It was just jet lag, or being somewhere new, or his parents' troubles, or some other bullshit. I. Don’t. Need. It. He took a shaky breath. This wasn’t fair. This was meant to be an amazing summer. A seven-week long holiday of trying cool new stuff in a cool new place. Meeting the godmother that he’d never met before, maybe make some new friends and explore a whole new world that all seemed so interesting. Instead, he’d screwed it all up on the very first night. He still felt humiliated by that episode, and thinking more intently about it was poking at a very raw psychological wound. “Sorry buddy, they don’t have a lot here that would fit you.” Alice told him. “It won’t make a difference whether it's for boys or girls, the protection is all the same.” Protection. George winced as she spoke the word. He didn’t need protection! He didn’t wet the bed! He didn’t! “I’m not wearing that.” He declared, his attempt to sound assertive betrayed by the slight shake in his voice. Alice blinked slowly and George could detect a barely audible sigh from his godmother as she leaned down to get at eye level with him. “George, look at me.” Her voice was soft, but compelling in its demands. He met her look. “I’m on your side here George. I’m trying to help solve a problem with a solution. If you had a headache, and I asked you to take a painkiller for it, would you be so reluctant to take it? Would you rather be going around with something you can fix because you’re scared to take a pill?” “I’m not scared.” He huffed. “Then what’s the issue, big guy?” He looked down at the package she was holding and hoped he wouldn’t be made to spell out the obvious. Alice continued to look at him like she was waiting on him, and with a renewed feeling of dread George realised he was going to have to say it. “They’re nappies! Girls' nappies! I'm not a baby!” He tried to sum it up in as few words as possible. Like every syllable made it more real. “George, I never said you were a baby. And acting like one in the supermarket isn’t helping anyone now, is it?” She spoke like she was talking to someone half his age. “Listen to me George. I’m trying to help you here, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me. I made a promise to your mother that I would look after you this summer, and make sure you had an amazing holiday. Now I can’t keep that promise without your help, understand?” The defiance seemed to deflate out of George as he listened to his godmother, replaced with a pang of guilt at the mention of his mother. He wasn’t privy to everything going on at home, but he wasn’t stupid either. He knew things were worse than usual right now, and part of him was suspicious that it might have something to do with why she’d so readily accepted the idea of him spending the summer in Washington. He felt obliged to nod slightly at Alice's question before she continued. “You’re meant to be having fun this summer George. And how much fun can you be having if you’re waking up to wet sheets every morning, hm? If I’m changing those sheets every morning, that’s less time for me to take you places and more time spent doing work we could avoid, isn’t it?” He felt another pang of guilt. Alice might have said she didn’t blame him for the extra laundry, but it didn’t change the fact that it was extra laundry. She was doing a lot for him, he supposed. There was no way he’d even be here if Alice wasn’t the one paying for everything. “But these are girls ones...” He protested the secondary point weakly, as he looked over at the mostly bare shelf Alice had picked the Goodnites up from. It was slim pickings. Apart from four other packs of Goodnites – all girls ones – there were a dozen or so packs of proper baby nappies in various sizes, and a solitary pack of pull-ups training pants. The cartoon smile of Dora the Explorer seemed to mock him from the soft plastic packaging. “Well, this is all they have.” Alice stated the obvious, as George moved over and began to look through the rest of the packages more closely. Spending any time at all rooting through the nappy aisle was beyond humiliating, and he couldn’t help making repeated paranoid glances down either end of the shelves in case someone was coming their way. His hopes reduced to the idea of finding some form of protection that wouldn’t completely make him die of embarrassment. Just one stupid pack of boys Goodnites. Just one. That he might at least be able to tolerate, and it would satisfy Alice’s requirements. There was nothing of the sort. The absolute best he could find was a pack of Easy-Ups training pants themed after Thomas the Tank Engine. The anthropomorphic train wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d see again after he turned five. Least of all like this. At least it wasn’t Dora. Alice must have seen him looking at the package, because she reached forward and picked that one up as well. A look crossed her face as she seemed to look over the alternative with a critical eye that quickly glanced back at George before returning to the examination. “Hm. I suppose they might work as well. They’ll probably be a bit on the snug side, but if you really don’t want to wear the Goodnites, I suppose we can give them a go.” Now George found himself looking between the Easy-Ups and the Goodnites. His godmother’s concession didn’t feel like one. It left him picking between two humiliating options and he couldn’t decide which one was worse right now. Girly Butterflies or babyish trains. He’d have to pick his poison that night it seemed. Without another word, she picked both packages up and dropped them into the basket, mercifully out of open view. They were still stuck in that part of the store however, and George found himself going right back to glancing around for other shoppers as Alice took her sweet time leisurely looking over one of the shampoo bottles. “Is that all?” George didn’t want to sound rude, but his anxiety was still waxing, his fingernails digging into his palm as he tried to prod his guardian. He didn’t want to be here a second longer than they needed to. “I was hoping we could pick up some snacks while we’re here. I saw you staring earlier, you know.” She smiled at him then motioned for him to take her hand again, which he did reluctantly. Did she think he was going to get lost here or something? As they passed back the way that had come, George caught sight of one of those cardboard signs that hung down from a shelf. It had been right on the dividing line between the nappies section and the other toiletries. The distinctive green banner of the Pampers branding looked back at him, framing a picture of a pair of the training pants hanging around the ankles of a set of disembodied lower legs that hovered slightly off the ground, clearly meant to imply the owner of the legs was sitting on the toilet that was framed behind them. Going from left to right, the picture of the training pants changed halfway through to become a pair of plain blue Y fronts with thick white rims around the waist and leg hole. The slogan, split on either side of the picture, read: “They think it's underwear. You know it's Pampers.” Ironically, the branding on the training pants in the advertisement were for something called “PJ Masks.” Which to George seemed to be a little kids superhero show, but still looked leagues less babyish than the Thomas themed ones he was now stuck with. They think it's underwear. You know it's Pampers. George felt his face burning as he read the line, and quickly forced himself to look elsewhere. It didn’t mean anything; it was just a dumb line from an advert.