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One of my older stories, which seems suitable to share again at this time of year. Daddy Valentine I woke up with a laugh to realise that it was Valentines Day. And there was a toned, athletic guy with an all-over tan lying in the bed next to me. I treated myself to my daily smile, and lay there watching his chest slowly rise and fall for a couple of minutes. It was amazing to think we’d been together almost a year now, and would be moving in soon enough. When I turned around, I saw that there was a card with my name on standing on the nightstand. Of course, he wanted to give me something nice even if I had to hurry to work before he was awake. I slipped out from under the covers, and felt my feet squeak on his hardwood floor. Then I lifted up the card to read the sentimental message inside. He called me his wonderful baby, and said that meeting me had been the best thing that ever happened to him. Soppy and sentimental, but that kind of sentiment would always melt my heart. There was a little gift certificate inside; I could get myself a makeover, or get my hair styled at ET’s. That was a great gift; but in the circumstances, I could only compare it to what had happened last year. Nothing would ever be able to live up to that, and as soon as I started thinking about it, the memories were all coming back to me… Ⅰ - Valentine I ordered another drink and ungraciously threw my cash down on the bar. I didn’t bother counting the change this time; it was too late in the evening for that. It was Valentines Day, or Valentines Night, I guessed. The sun had set before we even got to this place. Against my better judgement, I’d come out for dinner and drinks with a bunch of friends from work. But if I was honest with myself, I would have to admit that there was only one colleague whose presence had tempted me away from another evening alone with blankets and a bucket of ice cream. That chiselled Adonis had joined the accounting team as an auditor eighteen months ago, but I was still too nervous even to say hi to him. I knew his name, but doubted that he’d even noticed me in the crowd. Dinner hadn’t gone well. We’d got some Mexican thing that I couldn’t pronounce the name of, and my guts were already protesting at how spicy it was. It had burned going down, but the gurgling from my insides had told me that I would have even more pain to look forward to when it came out again. A steady succession of beers, enough to ensure that I was no longer stable enough to count them, hadn’t transformed the following morning into anything I could look forward to. I’d danced with a couple of single guys from work, and some of the girls in my office as well. I’d toasted silly things with people I normally saw enough of in work hours, and only started to regret it more as the evening went on. Some of my friends had managed to hook up with someone, but the guys who were willing to talk to me all made it pretty clear why they were alone tonight. “Not enjoying the festivities?” a voice behind my shoulder said, as I surveyed the room. It was the kind of voice that put me in mind of pirates; or at least the weird accept that ham actors would put on when they were trying to conjure up the image of a grizzled swashbuckler. When I turned to look at him, the guy was… Well, I couldn’t judge how old he was. He struck me as a big man, but I couldn’t guess if his bulk was fat or muscle. Or just endless layers in his strange outfit. His face was worn by the elements, but there was still a sparkle in his eyes. I might have said that he looked young, and maybe it was just the scars that made him look older, but there was something in the way he stood and the way he spoke, something that said he’d seen more than any man should endure. His hair was tied back under a bandana, and a triangular leather patch covered one eye. Two of his teeth had been replaced by dentures that looked to be made of coloured crystal; but it was hard to say whether that was because he needed them or just a fashion statement. “No,” I said with a shrug. “All this, it’s just… rubbing your face in it, a reminder that you’ve not got anyone. Why do we have to have a day to focus on that?” “Ahh, but there’s the thing,” he said with a smile, and I had a sense that there was a story there. Some tale he loved to spin. “It didn’t used to be love, did it? Or at least, not this kind of love. People throwing themselves against the nearest warm body. It used to be about bonds, and trust. The love that holds a family together, and brings a village to fight back against the monsters that lurk in the mist.” “Well that’s different,” I laughed, not sure how else I was supposed to respond. I might have heard a story like that once before, but any memories I’d had were lost in a haze of beer. So I raised the bottle to my lips and took a swig. “To Valentines, and what it was meant to be.” “And to them that’s took my name,” the strange man laughed, and chinked his bottle against mine. His was old and coated in dust, and didn’t look like any of the dozens that were arrayed behind the bar. That would have been my first sign that something was weird here, or maybe my sixth, if I’d been sober. “Cheers,” I said. And then after a few seconds of what passed for deep thought in my current state of mind, I asked: “So what’s your name?” “Ye can call me Jack. That’s all that matters.” I laughed at the irony there. I’d come along to the bar hoping I could drink enough courage to talk to Jack. What were the odds that I would end up meeting somebody with the same name. The strange Jack looked at me with some amusement as I ended up laughing at a joke nobody else could hear. And I had enough presence of mind that I felt I should explain. “I know another Jack,” I said. “Well, not really know him. And not really called Jack, either. His name’s Jaques, but all his friends call him Jack. And I’d really like to be one of his friends. I think that’s what I want more than anything else. So there’s two Jacks here. Maybe I’ll need another name to think of you by. Jack Accounts and Jack Valentine.” I laughed aloud at that, only to realise a second later that it really wasn’t as funny as it had felt to me. But the stranger was laughing too, and I could only guess that my joke had a layer too deep for me to even think about. “Well, you’ve brought a sparkle to my night,” he said. “Maybe you should talk to your Jack. And for the cheer you’ve brought, I’ll offer you a gift. I won’t even snatch it away. But first I would ask you a question. Should I give you what ye want, or what ye need?” “Umm… I…” I stammered. All the background noise of the bar seemed to fade away for an instant, as if the whole world was waiting for me to answer. And through my drunken haze, I knew that this was probably the most important question I’d ever been asked. What I said now was bound to change my life forever. I surveyed the room for a second, and wondered what I should say. How could I answer, when I didn’t even know what the question meant? When I looked back, Jack Valentine was gone. But there was a smell of strong cider in the air, which I only now realised had hung in the air around him since the first moment he appeared. And he had placed a box in my hand, without me even realising. It was a box of valentines cards. The box was faded, made of slightly yellowed card, but the cards inside were bright and new. They were relatively plain, compared to most of the ones I’d seen in the shops. Plain white, with a single red heart in outline on the front. As I looked through them, I saw that each one had a message inside. “To my Master,” I read. “To my slave”. “To my childhood crush”. “To my innocent seductress”. Each one was different; and none of them were quite what I would expect from a valentines card. But I’d been given them, and they felt important. The idea arrived at the speed of beer. The second thoughts would probably take until the following morning to get here. I knew just thinking about it that this was a bad idea. But I signalled the barman with my empty bottle, and when he came to give me a full one I also asked if I could borrow a pen. I pulled out a card with the words “To my Daddy” in the middle. It was weird, but I didn’t care anymore. I carefully jotted “To Jaques” at the top, and it only took me three attempts and a couple of crossings-out to spell his name right. That should have told me that I was in no state to give him a card like this, but somehow the hint never made it to my brain. Instead, I tried to compensate for my clumsiness by making the card even more special; writing in “I love you” at the bottom. That done, I handed the pen back in the approximate direction of the barman. And as it bounced on the floor, I was already swaying and staggering my way across the middle of the room, in the direction of my beloved Jaques. Ⅱ - Daddy “I…” I slurred, trying to find my tongue. “I got you a card.” I held it out in front of me, and I could tell right away that half of my friends were laughing at me, and half were mumbling in pity, wondering how I could have gotten myself into such a state. “Well, that’s…” he said, sounding a lot clearer than I did. “Thoughtful?” But he took the card. I jumped back a little, getting a static shock from his fingertips as he took it. But he didn’t seem to notice, and I guess everybody else just assumed that my nearly falling over was due to all the drinks I had bought myself tonight. “To my Daddy,” he read, and smiled. “Well, that’s… Probably a sign that I’ve not been a very good daddy. Letting my little girl stay out so late, and not trying to help when she’s obviously in some distress. Come on, sweetie. I want to make sure you get home safe.” I didn’t even understand what was happening as he took my hands. But in all the confusion filling my mind, I knew one thing for sure: Daddy always wanted what was best for me, and for him to take me home was the thing I had wanted more than anything else tonight. I was too confused to remember exactly what I’d been hoping for, but I knew it was something good. Jaques helped me into the back of his car, and made sure I was buckled in. I thought it was a bit weird; but the way he fussed over me made me really comfortable. And I was just about aware enough to know that I was in no state to drive now. A guy giving me a lift home was probably what I needed more than anything else. But only five minutes after leaving the bar, he pulled over at a little shop just off the main road. Did he need to refuel? I sat in the car and waited for him to return, and it only felt like two minutes. “Sorry,” he said. “Daddy wanted to get you a card as well, but they’re all sold out. I guess all the boys left it to the last minute.” “Ohhh…” I said. “I got a box. Would you like to use one of those?” “That sounds great. You’re so much more organised than me, aren’t you? And I really should give you a card.” I handed him the box, my heart pounding. I thought I was starting to sober up now, though I still felt a bit weird. And I was realising just what a big deal it was to give him a card, and for him to want to give me one in return. He wasn’t just doing it to be polite, was he? How would I know? I’d never been in this kind of situation before, but it had to be better than the train-wreck relationships that had been my experience ever since high school. And then I could laugh, as he turned the box over and over in his hands, trying without success to open it. “I don’t think I can get in,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe you can choose one for me to give you?” I knew he was just humouring me; trying to make me feel more competent when I felt like I’d done everything wrong. But I lifted out a card that seemed to fit with the whole ‘Daddy’ impression I got from him. It said “to my Baby Girl”. I waited eagerly while he wrote my name inside, and then he gave it to me and I tore open the envelope almost as quickly as he had sealed it. “To Claudia,” I read, and my heart soared. He knew my name! He knew who I was without having to ask! “My Baby Girl.” I laughed at the words. It was so weird for a baby girl to be out at night. I was sure it was after my bedtime now, and I hoped Daddy wouldn’t be mad at me for staying out so late. He shouldn’t have to come and get me, but I never thought these things through. I always just let him take care of me. And I was so happy to get a card for him that as I saw the heart on the front flicker and sparkle, the butterflies in my tummy got a whole lot more jittery. I was feeling something now that I didn’t even know the meaning of. And then I looked down at my tummy, and saw a dark patch spreading over the seat. Now I knew I was going to be in trouble; I was doing a wee in the back of Daddy’s lovely expensive car again, and he would have to clean up after me. “Umm…” I mumbled. “Daddy? I kinda… I did a oopsie.” “What do–” he started to ask, and then looked down at me, and I saw the disappointment flicker in his eyes for a moment. “Ohh, sweetie. It’s okay, you’re not that big yet. Let’s get you home and back into a nice clean diaper, okay?” I nodded, a little embarrassed by the thought. I had to try harder to not have little accidents, so that Daddy wouldn’t have to put me back in diapers. I pouted as we drove off again. I whined a little about being wet, but Daddy explained that he didn’t have any dry clothes for me to put on, or even a towel to put on the wet seat. He asked me to be a big girl, and to wait until we got home. I nodded, and tried my best to be good. A minute later I was staring out of the window, trying to count all the buildings that went past. I didn’t know that many numbers, but it was still fun. When I couldn’t count any more, I would just start again and count something different this time. I was counting bridges when we finally stopped again. There were three of them. And then Daddy was lifting me out of the car, and carrying me through some big glass doors that slid open when I came close without even touching them. My shoes had fallen off somewhere, but I still had soggy socks on, and I laughed a little when I noticed that I could make little damp footprints on Daddy’s trousers while he was carrying me. And then he was unlocking a door, bringing me into his house. I’d never been so happy before. Daddy put me down on a towel on his bed, and quickly took off my socks, skirt, and undies. Then he carried me through to the bathroom. He must have turned the water on before, and I hadn’t even noticed, because he had a huge pile of warm soapy bubbles to stand me in. “Good girl,” he said. “Now, can you put your hand on my shoulder? Yes, just like that. Hold on tight so you don’t fall down, and I’ll get you all clean.” I held onto his shoulder, while he knelt down beside the bath and reached out with a poofy pink sponge to wash my legs. The water was warm, and the soap smelled of flowers. And every time the bubbles came high enough, I could scoop up a little bit and put some bubbles in Daddy’s hair. He didn’t even get mad when I was playing around, so I thought I must be allowed to do this more. It was only a couple of minutes before he stood up again, and held onto my arm to help me step out of the bath. And then he was wrapping me up and snuggling me in the thickest, fluffiest towel ever. And then it was back to the bedroom so that he could put me in a clean diaper, and a snuggly pj top. “I love you Daddy!” I said, as I saw him put the card I gave him on the nightstand. “And I love you too, my little angel.” He laughed and cuddled me close, and then gave me a little kiss on my forehead. I thought that I’d never been so happy in my life. I still wasn’t tired, though. So Daddy got me a big glass of juice, and one for him too. And then we sat on the couch, and he put on a movie on the TV. We watched it together, and we laughed at all the jokes. And some time in there I must have dozed off, because I woke up when Daddy was trying to carry me quietly through to the bedroom again. “Is it bedtime, Daddy?” I asked him, and wriggled a little bit. “It is, sweetie. It’s nearly midnight now, and I think that’s well past bedtime for a sweet little baby like you.” “Can you read me a bedtime story?” “I’ll see what we’ve got,” he said. And then he was tucking me in on the bed, and I felt so warm, and so safe. “I love you, Daddy,” I said again. “And I… Wait, what’s going on here?” He was already leaning down to kiss my forehead, and when he froze I couldn’t resist the urge to press my lips against his. I knew it was improper; he hadn’t even asked me to dance. But here I was, in what was presumably his apartment, in his bed. The realisation that I was wearing a wet diaper didn’t even seem to make any difference. I just knew that I loved him, more than I ever thought I could. Ⅲ - Lover “What am I doing here?” I asked, after breaking the kiss. I knew that Jaques didn’t have the answers; but asking the question seemed to comfort me a little. I was making it clear to the world that I expected it to make sense, and that life, fate, or whatever it was couldn’t keep on doing whatever it felt like with us. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I don’t know what happened. You gave me that card, it said ‘to my Daddy’. And I guess I started taking it literally? Like… I thought you were a kid out past your bedtime, and I needed to take you home. I was going to take you back to your place at first, if you were sober enough to remember your address. But then…” “Wait,” I said. “I’m not drunk. How the hell did that happen? I always drink too much on Valentines Night, it’s like all the shallow people save up all their superficiality for one night. I could barely stand in the bar. But now… do I sound drunk to you?” “No. Something happened on the way home, I think. Suddenly I was thinking of you as a baby. And you stopped sounding drunk and depressed then. You were a cheerful little toddler, and you–” “Oh my god!” I cut in, although I didn’t even believe in god. But right now, I might be tempted to believe in the devil, or fairies, or something crazy to explain what had happened. “Did I really pee in your car?” “I think you did,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll call my valet service, get them to clean it up. They probably know how to deal with it, some little kid who can’t hold it. I guess I don’t need to mention that the kid in this case…” He looked completely confused then, as if he couldn’t even think of the words to finish that sentence. “Turned back into your charming coworker on the stroke of midnight?” “Yeah, I guess… that’s what happened, isn’t it? Is this like supposed to teach us the true magic of Valentines Day or something? I don’t even know… I mean, it’s it something Hallmark invented to sell more cards? Is there even a mythological basis for it?” “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “There was a weird guy in the bar. He said his name’s Jack. And he said he’d give me a gift, but I have to choose between… I can’t even remember. But he gave me a pack of cards. I guess they’re magic or something.” “Maybe this guy thought we’re meant to be together?” he guessed. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to say anything too forward. But… well… that’s the most fun I ever had at this time of year. Normally everybody’s just thinking about what they want, like romance is something you can bundle up in a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates, rather than the way you live your life together.” “I never had a date,” I said with a shrug. “Not for Valentines.” “I have. But they’ve always been disappointing. Tonight was fun, though. If incomprehensible.” “I can come round again sometime, if you want. We could sit on the couch and watch cartoons.” “Yeah. And I wouldn’t mind bathing you again. Even if my feelings about it would be quite different, now I know you’re not a baby.” “I mean, if you prefer it, I could pretend to be a baby. I mean, I wouldn’t–” I cut myself off, running through the memories in my head again. One question came to mind, so strange that I couldn’t say anything else until I asked it. “Why have you got diapers and childish pyjamas in my size?” “I… have no idea. They were just there. I wonder if they’ll still be there in the morning. I mean, they could evaporate like fairy gold when you take them off, or something.” I wanted to tell him that he was crazy, but after everything that had happened tonight, it didn’t seem particularly unrealistic. We talked for hours that night. About all kinds of things, including the history, and the baggage that we were both carrying. We kept on going back to the strange events of that night, and what could possibly have caused it. But the only answers we came up with were that we didn’t know; and that it had to be a good thing. Whatever the magic of those cards had been, it had given us a chance. And we both wanted to see where our lives would go if we kept on following that path. We kept the cards, and brought them out to stare at a dozen times over the following year. There was no more magic, but I could play the part of a baby, if Jaques wanted to be Daddy. And whether we were curled up on the couch watching cartoons, or doing more conventional romantic stuff, every minute was heaven. For a whole year, it seemed our relationship could only get stronger. Ⅳ - One Year Later “Amazing, isn’t it?” Jaques said, and I turned my head to see him peering over my shoulder. I had this year’s valentines card in my hands, but he must know that I was thinking about the one from the year before. “A whole year,” I said. “And a happy ending to every argument. Yeah, you’re pretty fantastic.” “It’s a pretty big achievement, for a printed piece of card,” he said. “And if I’m fantastic, you’re fantasticer. And amazinger. Wait, is that the title of an anime?” I couldn’t help laughing then, even if I didn’t quite get the joke. Jaques always knew when not to take anything so seriously. I kept on giggling as I walked over to where my jacket was hanging on the back of the door, and took out a new card. It had taken me a while to find the one I wanted; I’d ended up buying it online in the end, and had it delivered to my office to make sure that he wasn’t around when it arrived. I took the envelope from my pocket, and held it out to him. Somehow, I felt as nervous as I had the year before, proffering a card at arm’s length. “I love you, Daddy,” I said, and the word made me feel just a little more confident. I watched nervously as he opened his card. It looked familiar; just like the one from the year before. But this time, it had been designed by an actual artist; the weight of the lines and the slight variation of colours made it look more like a commercial Valentines card, and less like something produced on someone’s inkjet printer twenty years ago. It had glossy card as well; and the same “Daddy” message on the inside, but in cursive text that looked less like it came from a stencil set. Even the crossings-out on his name had been rendered as an aesthetically pleasing part of the design. “I thought it’s an important memory,” I said, embarrassed as he examined the card in such detail. I hoped he wouldn’t think it was a shallow gesture, or too cliché, or something. “It is,” he said. “And I can’t believe you put so much thought into it. I was just going to give you a gift certificate. But of course… for a reminder of how we got together… Happy anniversary, baby.” I smiled, and blushed hugely as he handed me an envelope. Two cards in one day? That was a twist I’d never even thought of. And when I opened it, I couldn’t help laughing. He’d put last year’s card in a new envelope, to remind me of last year. The same sentiment that had come to my mind, just a different execution. Or maybe it was another one from the same set? I couldn’t be sure; neither of us had managed to open the pack again since last year, so it had been sitting at the back of the drawer ever since. Could he have worked out how to free whatever part was stuck? I sat down on the edge of the bed, enjoying Jaques’s hands massaging my shoulders, and his breath in my ear as I opened it. “My baby girl,” I read with a little squeal. The same card that had meant so much to be a year before; even the same slight wobble where he’d written my name in without a stable surface to lean on. The excitement bubbled up inside me, and I tilted the card to catch the light better, looking at the shimmering of the printed heart. And then I felt something, and looked down past the card. “Oh noooo!” I said, as I saw that I was doing a wee on the bed. “Oooopsies.” “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Daddy asked, and then peered over my shoulder. “Oh, I guess the magic works again when it comes to Valentines day. Well, I’m sure we’ve still got a couple of those Bunnyhop diapers left, so let’s get my little princess padded up. And then maybe we can take you to the park. Wouldn’t that be fun?” “Yeah!” I cheered, jumping up and dancing around the room, full of energy for the day ahead, and already forgetting my embarrassment. Daddy was going to look after me for ever and ever, and today was going to be another best day of my life.

This was a silly story written for Valentine's Day. It originally appeared on my Patreon. There's not much plot or characterization- it was just a fun little scene. If you'd like early access to story updates and new stories, please consider joining my Patreon. https://www.patreon.com/Cute_Kitten I want to thank my generous patreon supporters. Your support really does mean a lot to me! I haven't mentioned names- I didn't ask if anyone was okay with that, even just initials, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. I need to ask before I'd mention names, but I'm very thankful for their support. HEART SHAPED PIZZA by CK Could he really do this? Liam stared at the big wooden high chair just waiting for him. His stomach knotted up with anxiety. He never sat in one before. Hell, he’d never done an age play scene before, especially with another person. The only times he’d ever indulged in his AB side was when he was home alone, doors locked and curtains shut. He’d put on a cute, thick, crinkly diaper, a onesie, and break out his secret stash of toddler toys. Today was a huge step for him. His first play time with another person, his girlfriend Zoe. This was her Valentine’s Day gift to him. One night, while looking at pictures on Fetlife together, he’d expressed the desire to deepen his AB indulgences. “Leave it to me!” She’d said with an excited clap of her hands. It was a whole lot of work on her part and a whole lot of blind trust on his. They’d been dating for 6 months after meeting on Fetlife. Liam was 25, a young architect and Zoe was 23 and a legal assistant at the District Attorney’s office. For both of them, this was their first serious relationship, though Zoe had more dating experience but not much age play experience. This was her first time as mommy doing something aside from checking and changing Liam’s diaper. The high chair loomed at the end of the dining room like a king’s throne. A knot formed in his throat; Liam swallowed noisily and froze in his tracks. This was too much; he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t plop his butt in that chair though deep down inside he wanted to. The people in the Fetlife photos all looked so happy in their own highchairs, so carefree and in touch with their Inner Baby. So what was stopping him? The rational part of his brain that screamed how ridiculous this was, the part of him that was ashamed of his desires to be diapered, to be dressed as a giant baby, to play with toys. “Go on, don’t be shy!” Zoe’s hands shoved on the small of his back. Her voice was chipper with enthusiasm. Liam was a big boy, just over 6 feet tall. Zoe was a shorty at barely 5 feet. Their height difference seemed like a colossal joke by the universe. Judging off appearances, tiny Zoe should’ve been the baby and big Liam the daddy. Zoe was a little pudgy, with frizzy brown curls in a mop cut. Liam was big and broad, muscled from years of working at his dad’s construction business while he put himself through architecture school. Liam stumbled forward, catching himself on the door frame. “M-maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…” He mumbled nervously. “It’s your highchair for our special meal together! Come on!” Zoe shoved harder. Despite their vast size difference, her moxie often made her seem much larger than her small stature. Liam’s fingers slipped off the wooden door frame and he stumbled into the room with a series of crinkles from his thick, plastic backed diaper. He blushed at the noise. He wore a blue t-shirt with a cartoon dragon holding a pink glittery heart on it. His diaper was a thick, crinkly ABU Peekabu with the green dragon. Zoe wore a red t-shirt with a panda bear holding a purple heart and a pink corduroy skirt and a pink bow in her hair. Liam braced his legs, stumbling forward as Zoe pushed him. He leaned his full weight back; she grunted but still pushed. “You’ve just got cold feet like our first date. C’mon. I had to drag you out then and I’ll drag you to that chair now. You’ll thank me later.” She was full of exuberant confidence, sure her boyfriend was just being shy and nervous. “This IS our first date. In a way.” He blushed harder. Their first Mommy and Baby dinner together. A dinner she’d put a lot of thought into. Something special for him. For them. Guilt twisted his heart. He really, really wanted to sit down in that high chair and let himself go, be the happy silly baby Zoe loved to fuss over, but self-disgust held him back. “Yes. So why are you being such a wet blanket?” Zoe pushed him again. He stumbled several steps forward, diaper crinkling with each one. “Because.” Liam didn’t want to say what was in his heart. Zoe was so happy; why couldn’t he just let himself go and enjoy it like she was? “Because why? You’ve been wanting this for so long. You’re just a big chicken.” She pushed him some more, grunting with the effort as he resisted more. He crinkled, feet heavy as he approached his highchair. “This is wrong!” Liam blurted out, face red and struggling to suppress his tears. The arms pushing him suddenly stopped as Zoe stepped away. She came around in front of him, reaching up so she could stroke his cheeks. “Liam? What’s going on in that head of yours?” Her tone was gentle despite her brusque words and her big blue eyes probed him. He shuddered. “I want to. I really, really do. But I’m scared. There’s a voice in my head that tells me this is wrong. That it’s disgusting. I’m disgusting and dirty and perverted for wanting this. You’ve worked so hard planning our Valentine’s and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes; a few tears trickled out. Her thumbs wiped them away. She stood up on her tiptoes, but even then she was still too short to reach his face. She grasped his cheeks, gently but insistently tugging him down so his face was near hers. “Hey. Shh. Are we breaking any laws? Nope. Who are we hurting? No one. Okay, so our little activity is a little odd. So what? That doesn’t make it immoral or perverted.” He bit his lip, closing his eyes and leaning into her soothing touch. “How are you so confident?” “Because I know I’m right. You’re worrying about what the rest of the world supposedly thinks. But who cares what they think? You can’t please everyone. All you’ll do is stress yourself trying. You should please yourself. You should please me, too. Since I’m your girlfriend and your hot mommy.” Her tone was warm and soothing as she teased him. He sniffled and smiled. In such a short time he’d come to trust her so much. Just a few gentle words of confidence from her were enough to waylay his fears and uncertainties. She wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling her face against the cartoon on his babyish t-shirt. He hugged her back. Her hands drifted lower, cupping the thick plastic backed padding and giving it a squeeze, checking him. “So, you wanna be my baby?” He blushed harder and nuzzled his face against her frizzy curls. “Yes Mommy.” “Good baby. Now, lets get baby in his highchair for his special Valentine’s din-din!” Zoe cooed, giving his diapered bottom a playful pat. His diaper rustled loudly and he smiled, both shy and happy. His insides tingled. Seconds later, his bladder released into his diaper. Zoe took his hand and led him over to the highchair. He followed obediently like a good baby. The high chair was huge, even for his big frame. He climbed up in; his thick diaper made a nice cushion on the hard wooden seat. He blushed, adrenaline racing. He felt like such a baby as his diaper crinkled under him. “First we gotta get the baby ready to eat.” Zoe chirped. She tied a pink bib with little red and white hearts around his neck. He blushed some more. She followed this up with a pair of thick, padded blue mittens than rendered his hands helpless. Liam’s eyes widened and he whimpered his helpless distress. “Mommy, how will I feed myself now?” “Don’t worry, baby. That’s Mommy’s job!” Zoe tweaked his nose playfully, kissing his cheek as she slid the big tray onto the highchair. The tray clicked into place and he felt helplessly trapped, at Mommy’s mercy, and utterly babified. With that, Zoe rushed into the kitchen, leaving Liam sitting there in just his diaper, bib, and t-shirt like an overgrown baby. He wiggled; the high chair was heavy and held him steady as he ran his mitten covered hands across the plastic tray. The padding on his hands was so thick he couldn’t feel the hard plastic tray. He smiled at how helpless and little he felt. He wiggled and crinkled his bottom in excitement. All too soon Zoe was back from the kitchen, carrying a pizza box from a local pizza place. “Close your eyes.” “What?” Liam blinked, wondering what his Mommy was up to. Even sitting in his high chair, he was still bigger than her, but her stern gaze made him feel like he’d shrunk several feet. Made him feel helpless and little inside, like she towered over him. He withered under her Mommy stare, and closed his eyes like a good baby. “Good boy.” The honey in her voice melted his bones and he smiled with a faint blush. He heard the pizza box open. “Okay, now open your eyes and see your Valentine surprise!” She giggled at the silly rhyme. Liam opened his eyes. Instead of a normal round pizza, this one was shaped like a heart. Even the pepperonis were hearts. He stared, not expecting that. But it was a brilliant marketing strategy on the side of the pizza parlors. He looked up at Zoe, who beamed at him. The joy in her eyes was infectious and he grinned back then burst into giggles. Her own smile brightened even more. “Tank..thank you, Mommy. I love...wub...you.” Baby babble was one thing he’d never managed to successfully imitate. He tried, but even when he was happily playing with his baby toys and wetting his big baby diapers, he still talked like a big boy. It was as if some part of him deep inside- the same part of him that was ashamed of this whole AB thing- held him back, kept him from fully immersing himself in it. He knew how much Zoe wanted to hear him talk like a wittle baby boy, and he tried hard. But at the last second his tongue always got tied and big boy words came out. Zoe sat the pizza down on the table and put a small slice on a plastic kiddie plate before cutting it up into little pieces so she could feed him with his plastic kiddie fork. He blushed both in anticipation and embarrassment. She sat the plate down in front of him. “I love you too, baby.” “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy.” “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Now, open wide for the choo-choo!” He might not be able to babble away, head lost to little space as his inner baby came fully out, but he could still make his Mommy happy. He closed his eyes and obediently opened his mouth, letting his Mommy feed him and telling the nasty voice in his head to shut up. He was going to enjoy his Valentine’s Day.

Formerly titled "Kokoro No Sokokara Aishiteiru" but upon reflection, I think Aishiteru suits the story better. And it's easier to say. Google tells me Aishiteru is Japanese for "I love you". Alas, I do not speak Japanese, so I can not vouch for Google's veracity or accuracy. Or state of sobriety. 😂 Google has trolled me before.😅 AISHITERU by C.K. Cute Kitten “Valentine’s Day sucks.” Yukihime shifted on the hard wooden seat. His voice was high and girly sweet. The crinkle of his diaper filled his ears. The murmur of quiet conversation around the small coffee shop drowned out the noise; no one looked at what appeared to be a pretty girl and her crinkly, bulky underwear. He tugged on his pink and purple plaid skirt, trying to hide the bulge of his thick diaper. He wore leggings under his skirt to keep him warm in the February cold, but the obnoxiously bright pink of his diaper showed through the white fabric. A sparkly lilac sweater, frilly purple socks, and sneakers covered in pink glitter completed the ensemble. He could kill Chika for dressing up like this. Over his leggings, but under his skirt, a HKAFO-hip knee ankle foot orthosis- brace encased his left leg. The nerves in that leg were damaged; he had only partial control and feeling. The hard plastic and metal of the brace gave him the support he needed to walk. Without his brace, he needed a wheelchair. The metal bar extended past his hip to his waist while the stiff plastic wrapped around his lower abdomen and back. This gave him support and control over the hip that never healed right. The humongous pink diaper came up past his leggings, past his brace, to his sternum. Chika had bought the wrong size again. Sometimes he thought she did it on purpose. “You’re the one with a date and a fiance. What are you complaining about?” Chika flicked glittery heart shaped confetti scattered on the round table at him. Red, white, and pink hearts bounced off the red glass vase filled with fake roses. Yuki stuck his tongue out at her. “The gaijin celebrate this holiday all wrong. Back home, all I have to do is give Ichiro chocolate.” Yuki’s gaze flicked to the heart shaped box of chocolate dipped strawberries covered with heart shaped sprinkles. Not giving Ichiro something on Valentine’s Day felt wrong, even if they were celebrating it the American way. “Then a month later on White Day he gives me white chocolate. It’s easy. Simple. Here, we’re supposed to go out on a date then…..s-sex…” His cheeks pinked. He dropped his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. His diaper crinkled. His pulse sped up and his stomach rolled, queasy with old memories. Old fears and hurts- hands tearing his clothes, squeezing his throat, pinching and twisting his nipples so hard they bled. He, Chika, and Ichiro were Japanese yokai from Ikai Nippon- the Japanese Otherworld. The Spirit World. The World Over Yonder. Humans lived in Sekai Nippon with all its modern amenities and technology. Some of that trickled into the land of Ikai, but time moved slower there. Yokai society was heavily feudalistic with clans, aristocrats, and fighting- especially against certain kinds of yokai that cannibalized other yokai and humans. Internal conflicts were rampant. Yokai, for the most part, preferred their world to the realm of humans; they felt constrained and sometimes insulted by numerous pointless laws- like the law of 1876 that banned samurai from carrying swords. But they loved the inventions humanity came up with. Back home in Ikai, Yuki had been sexually assaulted. His sister had almost died from a disease; her medicine was expensive. To afford it, Yuki had sold his virginity to a brothel. The client got off on hurting people; a mutual sexual encounter had turned violent. Yuki ended up in the ICU with a shattered cheekbone, dislocated jaw, crushed trachea, snapped spine, broken ribs, punctured lung, and both hips torn out of joint. Ichiro was nothing like that rutting bastard. Ichiro was honorable. Patient. Gentle. Yuki trusted Ichiro. Yet the emotional, irrational part of him feared intimacy with his future husband in an arranged marriage. “Sex is the best part. The round eyes have the right idea. Us women don’t have to do anything but look pretty and we get flowers, chocolate, jewelry, and a fancy dinner. I made sure Ichiro got you something nice.” Chika tugged down her low cut sweater dress so more of her cleavage showed. At home in Ikai, she was one of the most well endowed yokai. She always had men panting after her. Here in America, even with a pushup bra she got less attention than she was used to. When Yuki didn’t reply, she quit fussing with her clothes and raised her head. Yuki’s big eyes glimmered with remembered pain and fear. His pink lips trembled. The haunted expression gutted her. “Ah, shit.” She reached across the table, careful not to knock their lattes over, and grasped Yuki’s soft, small hands. Her fingers squeezed his smaller ones. “Ichiro would never hurt you.” “I know. I’m being stupid. Forget about it.” Yuki tugged his hands free then fanned one in front of his face like chasing away a bad smell. A small, cynical part of him thought Chika was obligated to say those words. She was a distant cousin of Ichiro’s. Both belonged to the Nakatomi clan, the most powerful clan in Ikai. Yuki hailed from the Soga clan, in the lowest rung of aristocracy. The Soga were a dwindling, crumbling house; nobility in name only. Long ago, they had been mighty and powerful. Now they were paupers, their ancestors’ legacy a tattered shroud. “He loves you. I’m not just saying that to make him look good. He really does love you from the bottom of his heart.” Factual certainty weighed Chika’s words, like she was telling Yuki the sun rose every morning and water was wet. Chika poked at some sugar packets by the rose vase. Ichiro was the second heir of the Nakatomi clan; a yokai prince. Chika was a distant cousin from a much lower ranking branch within the clan. Her lineage demanded loyalty to her prince. “I don’t doubt you. I just...don’t understand how. He’s Nakatomi no Ichiro. I’m not a real Soga. I’m not even a real girl.” Yuki’s vision blurred. His long, inky lashes fluttered, blinking back tears. He’d been born a male yukionna yokai. The snow maidens practiced male infanticide. No one knew why, though some speculated the reclusive yukionna practiced a perverted, inverted mix of Buddhist and Confucian beliefs. Part of that corruption was killing male offspring. Yukionna were also notorious for killing any males they slept with. As a baby, he’d been left to die, exposed to the elements. Instead, he’d been found by one of the Soga clan and adopted. He couldn’t live as a male yukionna- the yukionna would hunt him down and kill him by any means necessary. His adoptive father had yokai doctors perform a vaginoplasty to turn him female, to protect him. Yuki had been too young to remember. He’d been raised as a girl, even if he never felt like one on the inside. “Hey, don’t cry.” Chika dropped her sugar packets on the table. Heart confetti scattered. She reached across the table; her fingertips brushed under Yuki’s eyes, wiping away stray tears. “I change your diapers. I know you’re just as much of a girl as I am.” Yuki winced, scooting back in his seat with a crinkle. His plaid skirt flipped up. The unmistakable diaper bulge was on display for all to see. The pink diaper with purple hearts shone clearly through the white cotton leggings. He didn’t notice. The padding swaddling him grew warm as he peed, but he paid no attention. His diaper would protect him. He scrubbed his eyes, angrily wiping away the tears. Chika made things sound so simple. Did his vagina really make him a girl? In the eyes of most people, it did. He just saw himself as a surgically modified male who had to live as a girl. He’d never say that out loud. To the rest of the world, he was female. His name- Yukihime, snow princess- was a slap in the face to the yukionna. His adoptive father’s way of showing contempt for the creatures who’d left an infant to die. “You’re right.” Yuki’s voice was as bitter as the green tea in his untouched tea latte. Chika licked his tears off her fingers. “Weird. I always forget yukionna tears aren’t salty at all. Tastes like fresh rainwater.” She picked up her four sugar packets, shaking them. “Besides, love isn’t something planned or rational. It just happens.” She dumped the sugar into her latte and stirred, metal spoon clinking off the ceramic cup. “Ichiro and I were the only yokai on campus until the Nakatomi sent you to be my nanny. Ichiro likes humans. He’s fascinated with gaijin culture. Isn’t that why he came here to finish his medical degree? But we both know he’d never lay with a human. I’m only here because the yukionna sniffed around home too much, in Ikai and in Sekai. Father was concerned for my safety so he sent me here. It’s only natural Ichiro and I sought each other’s company. But for it to turn into a marriage contract between our clans...the Soga are too low for the Nakatomi to even consider…” “Don’t doubt Ichiro’s love for you. He went to war for you. He never defied the clan head and elders before. He threatened to leave the clan, live in exile. He broke a marriage contract. That man moved the heavens to be with you. He loves you. Don’t doubt him.” Chika’s spoon jabbed at Yuki’s nose. The sweetness of caramel and sugar mixed with the bitter bite of espresso filled his nostrils. Coffee dripped from the spoon onto the fabric roses. “I don’t. I doubt myself.” Yuki pushed the spoon away. Wet warmth flooded over his crotch with no warning; the thick padding surrounding him whisked the wetness away. He knew all Ichiro had done for him. For them. He defied his clan, broke tradition. Those things meant nothing to humans, particularly the foreign barbarians. To yokai, they were everything. Their family name, their clan, was part of their identity. Their history. Their connection to their ancestors. Their place in the world. To humans, family name meant little. Humans were lost, adrift in a world with no roots to hold them in place. No idea of who they were. Yuki pitied them. And Ichiro had been willing to give all that up for garbage like him. “But you’re adorable! You’re so cute. Like a baby doll. You’re even prettier than me. Ichiro’s into that sweet, innocent thing. He’s going to love your outfit. Especially those cute Valentine diapers.” “Chika!” Yuki glowered at her, his pale baby doll cheeks turning pink in an embarrassed blush. He looked around the crowded cafe, but the patrons were all absorbed in their own conversations or phone screens. Even if any of the people close enough to hear understood Japanese, they’d have trouble with the old fashioned cadences of the Ikai dialect. He tugged on his skirt, trying to cover up his gigantic diaper. “What? Do you want your binky?” “Chika.” Yuki growled, blushing some more. His baby paraphernalia belonged at home; Chika was teasing. Chika loudly slurped her caramel latte with espresso shots. She grimaced at the taste. “Needs more sugar. And it’s getting cold.” She wrapped her hands around the cup. A static charge filled the air around her as she used her youki, her yokai energy. Seconds later, steam curled up in wisps from the cup. She reached for the sugar packets. Yuki’s spoon smacked her knuckles. “You’ve got enough sugar in there to kill a horse.” “Ouch! Yuki! So mean!” Chika sucked on her abused knuckles, pouting like a kicked puppy. “And you call me childish.” “I’m not the one in diapers.” “I don’t have much choice.” Yuki didn’t sound bitter, just matter of fact. He wasn’t potty trained. Not anymore. Not since he’d started his poison conditioning as a Nakatomi bride. As part of the ruling elite, the Nakatomi-especially the clan leaders- engaged in politics. Ikai politics were dirty and potentially deadly. The elite clans made their members immune to poisons through exposure therapy to build up their bodies’ tolerance. Conditioning started in childhood, with doses increasing little by little until they could survive even a lethal dose. As a lowly Soga, Yuki had not been part of that world. As the bride of the Nakatomi clan’s second heir, he was suddenly thrust into that world. Yuki was behind in poison conditioning. To catch up, he was on a strict regimen overseen by Ichiro and Chika. With his medical background, Ichiro was in charge. Once a month, Yuki was given a concentrated dose of yokai poison. Normally, poison conditioning was slow, increments over years. Time was a luxury Yuki didn’t have. His conditioning was condensed, his doses concentrated. This sped the process up, but at a price. As his body processed the poison, the higher functions of his brain shut off. This left him an overgrown baby for several days. A trip back to babyhood as his body absorbed and processed the poison. Yuki recovered just fine for the most part. Most things stayed in tact- his memories, his skills. It was all there. His fine motor skills were sometimes shaky, but he still retained them. His potty training was gone. His brain still retained the steps involved in using the toilet, but his bladder and bowels didn’t get the message. Those muscles could no longer retain his pee or his poop. He never knew he had to go until he felt it enter his diaper. He knew he should mind much more than he did. His diapers were strangely comforting. The thick padding soothed him, made him feel protected and safe. His pacifier was another source of comfort. Chika and Ichiro made him feel loved. Even when he was in his adult mind, he enjoyed nursing his pacifier. Were those side effects of his conditioning, or had the conditioning led him to finding something he enjoyed? Ichiro enjoyed the big baby paraphernalia. Rather, he enjoyed babying Yuki with it, even when Yuki wasn’t in his baby mind. At the slightest inclination from Yuki, he was ready to go into daddy mode. To Yuki, Ichiro never fully seemed out of daddy mode.