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Michael, don't you know I was born to turn you on? You must, you've told me it enough times. You've whispered it in my ear in public, making me blush and squirm as you laughed. You've growled it at me as you held me down at hit me with all your strength. You've teased me with it as I lay tied to your bed, unable to move. And I loved it each time. I love that I am that object for you, that toy, that serves that one singular purpose. I love that I do it so well, and that we both know I'll do it in anyway you want. I love how far you've taken me, you've pushed in that direction. My question is, can you see beyond that? (And do I care if you do?) ... "No... no I can't!," I say, shaking my head. There were tears in my eyes already, just seeing what they intended. Michael loomed over me, as he always does. I always felt smell next to him. "No? Are you arguing? Should I get the paddle, and we can have a nice long discussion about it?" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me in. My heard jumped. Even the threat made me more excited. I looked over at what the clothes they had laid out for me. I had played so many roles for them. I had been their pet, their slave, their baby, their maid. I had come out with them wearing leather vests and diapers under my clothes. However, there were still lines. "I don't know that I want that. Not yet." I whimpered. Michael walked to me. He put a hand on my shoulders, and the other reached down and cupped me below the belt. I gasped. "Are you sure you don't want it, diaper boy? Your cock seems to disagree." "I... I don't, Daddy." It sounded as fake as it felt. The truth was I longed for what they showed me, and had dreamed of it for months. The outfit itself wasn't that far off from dozens I had worn for them before. It was a onesie, bright pink and with a heart on its chest. It came with leggings and platform shows, and bows for my hair, which had grown longer and would undoubtably be put in pigtails. My leash was beside it, the collar was on my neck, and I already wore a diaper to go with it. With it, I knew they would probably tie me, and give me a gag to keep me quiet. I had worn the same before. What was different was what it meant today. I felt a hand smack the back of my diaper. Sarah came around my other side with an arm on my back. "Is that true diaper girl? I think its perfect for you. I think its perfect for you to wear every day from now on." "Uhhh..." I moaned. "Daddy, is she allowed to do that?" I asked as the other submissive teased me. To tell the truth, hearing someone who was herself being dominated talk down to me only made me crave more. If there was to be an pecking order, a huge part of me I was terrified of craved more then anything to be on the bottom of it. "Yes sweetie. Remember our ranking?" I thought back. We were both subs under him, but what we wore went beyond that. Regular clothes beat anyone cross-dressed, which beat anyone dressed as an animal, which beat, lowest of the low... "She's also in a diaper Daddy," I said. "We're the same." He shook his head. "Not anymore. Not when she's in her black diapers and her leather clothes, and you have your cute little printed diapies and onesie. You are the lowest here, and will still be from now on." My mind swirled. By far the most humiliating game they had played with me was this one. It was the one thing that pushed me right to the limit, the only that still made me begin to think of saying no. Now, they wanted to take me into public, in our club with all our friends, dressed like that. More, they wanted me to live like that, to come into their home and stay like that permanently. My heart jumped, and I wasn't sure if it was from disgust, fear, or joy. Michael turned me to face him directly. He put a hand on my diaper and pulled me in right next to him, and put the other on the back of my head. I looked away for a moment, but he turned me back, and for a second I thought he would kiss me. Instead, he just stared at me with his clear eyes. My breath caught, as it always did when I looked into them. "Are you sure sweetie? If you don't want it, you know your safety word. This can all be over now. Just say it, or let us dress you again." I was still, but was sure I was falling deep into his eyes again. Every time they hit me it was like all the will to argue left me. I felt myself melt and fall deeply into them, like a man possessed, and he did possess me. The image of me going into the club, crawling in his humiliating costume, all the nervousness it brought, fell along with my willpower into his eyes. Those eyes. It was always those goddamn eyes. ... Oh Michael don't you know you were born to turn me on? That is the part I'm not sure you understand. Or, if you understand it, you understand it all to well. It is everywhere and always to me. That feeling. That incredible, awful feeling. That arousal that is on my mind. That distracts me from work. That distracts me from relationships. That distracts me from all of life outside your impossible, clear eyes. The deep, painful knowledge that that you could get me to do anything you wanted no matter how bad I DON'T want it and the more I don't want it the more I want it because I know you want it because I don't want it and that makes me WANT it and I don't understand that. But you do, and that scares me. I am not in love with you. I am ADDICTED to you. I am OBSESSED with you, and with your impossible clear eyes. When I see them I feel like I am possessed, and I know I am possessed by you. I can stare at them for hours and not be sure what happened. I am addicted to your body. The tight, lean muscles. The strong arms, able to carry me, to pull me, to hold me down, even as I struggle (ESPECIALLY as I struggle) The size that has you always looking down on my ever so slightly, ever so noticeably, with your clear, impossible eyes. I am addicted to all you do to me. All our little games, all the strange clothes, all the things I never would have done if I never had met you. And I cant stop them. I can't stop wanting them. I don't know why I want them, I SHOULDN'T want them, but by god I do. By YOU I do. You are my god now. And that is what I am worried you understand all to well. There are lines I cannot cross, but I don't know what they are when I see those clear, impossible eyes. Not ever since I first saw them, those months ago.

This will be short because it’s my first upload and I just want to see how it goes, just the first part of the intro and I am curious what kind of feedback I will get. I have been trying to get better as an author, ideally so I don't have to spend so much time editing. I am new at writing, but a long-time reader and I have been writing since last summer. This story is a companion book to my actual book. Characters overlap, and this was an exercise to practice writing while a figured some characters out. Somethings I thought might be helpful. I am very fascinated by the Big & little dynamic. I find the concept of head space fascinating and that's what began my writing. There are other things I care about: processing trauma, healing from it, something as simple as being held and being told everything is going to be OK, and lastly, finding happiness in a world where bad things sometimes happen. I have mixed some things in to add to the world building that I think some of you might like. There is something about littles that is hard to articulate. In the way their faces light up when they smile, and the joy they bring with them wherever they go. You can see this in the way they play and laugh, in their naive and gullible natures, in their contentment with simple things. Whatever it is that makes littles so unique would be close to their purity of spirit. Adults have lost that purity, that innocence. And children will eventually lose theirs too, becoming adulterated by simply living in a broken world caused by flawed people. And that is what is so terrible about growing up. Your innocence is taken from you the more you experience life and the world. Perhaps that is what makes little so fascinating. Unlike children they won’t shed that purity, unlike adults they haven’t lost that innocence. That purity of the spirit is preserved for ever. There is a fierceness inside of Bigs and it’s seen through many words we use to describe them; here are some. Words like: “caregiver, protector, provider, and parent”. We sum it up in the words Mommy and Daddy. A name that when cried provokes great fierceness. Will it be hands that reach for you when you’re sad? A fist ready to fight for you? Strong arms to hold and comfort you? A gentle understanding voice that lets you know that everything will be, ok? Or eyes that radiate unending compassion to let you know you are loved? There is also a nobility of character inside of them. A fragility that is willing to risk, suffer, and give of themselves for the thing they care about. Hmm, how fitting is it they got to be the ones to watch over that purity of spirit that remains unchanging in a dark world. (working progress) - SanguineReader Sunny By me Being little is a beautiful thing. This was something Sunny knew. She was of course thinking back to a simpler time, before all the heartache and pain. Back when her family was still together, and things were good and simple. Back when she was not afraid to run to her mommy or daddy when she got scared or sad. They were all ways there for her, quick to pick her up and embrace her in strong loving arms. Back then when they paid attention to her, made her feel special, and loved. There was just nothing like being little back then. Having grown tired playing amongst the flowers, arranged to form a small 6ft tall maze, and spotting a large budding oak tree she carefully looked into the little park; looking this way and that, making sure that she could not be seen she made her way to the tree. Finding a comfortable place beneath the large oak tree to lie down, light beaming down through the branches as she looked up and caught the brilliant blue of the sky above peeking through the leaves. Her eyes had grown heavy as a gentle breeze blew and brought with it the comforting smell of newly budding flowers. Being little was beautiful, she thought one last time. As she fell into a gentle sleep whispering the words, “back then.” v Having grown up her entire life in a world of littles and Bigs, Sunny never paid much attention to those strange adults who were treated like children. She never hated them or thought bad of them. She just knew they were different and needed more care. And since she was not a Big or a little, she had little reason to think about them. Until her triggering when the family found out her dad had been cheating on her mom with a colleague from work when she was thirteen. Things got bad fast. “An honest mistake” he had tried to explain to her mom. But she was not having it. It did not help that his girlfriend demanded that he leave his family and marry her when she found out she was pregnant. Divorce is never fun, especially for a child. Not really understanding at the time, she just knew her mom now hated her dad. There was so much screaming back and forth, meanness, things thrown, crying, grief, depression, and rage. She withdrew within herself and made herself scarce as best as she could. She and her older brother Lucas somehow became forgotten in the battle that ensued. Caught in the middle, she and her brother watched on helplessly as the two people they loved the most in the world ripped each other apart. When at home she stayed out of their way, at school she pretended everything was fine, doing her best to not let her friends or teachers see how sad she was inside. But how could she be fine? She felt like a hostage to her parents, knowing by now to never give the appearance of picking a side. Things would never be like they used to be, she knew, knowing that something tore inside her heart. And, not knowing when a certain gene that had laid dormant deep inside had activated beginning to send new signals and chemicals to her brain. She began to feel this desire, not quite a compulsion but to play with toys meant for younger kids. To want to ask for hugs and kisses, to raise her arms with the expectation that she would be picked up. And though the feelings inside of her grew slowly, small signs began to appear by the time she was fifteen. Her growth had long started to slow, her breasts were underdeveloped, she would have accidents at night every now and then. And though she never told anyone, sometimes during the day too. There were other things of course. Rediscovering old toys in the attic and playing with them when she could. She recovered her old companion Bebe and even an old paci. There was a growing kind of focus that started to form inside of her. an attention span that was not quite normal that usually set in when she played or drew. There were developing changes in her mannerism, a diminishing of emotional fortitude. She found herself isolated from her parents, depressed and alone. If it was not for Lucas, she did not know how she could have made it through those tough times. When the shouts and yells would turn to screaming, and horrible words were said, and when his mother would attack her father trying to provoke him to do something she could use against him; she would always run to her room and hide. Sometimes under the covers, other times in her closet or under her bed. If Lucas was home, he would always come and find her. Lucas was two years older than her and such a sweet and caring brother. Fiercely protective of her, always going out of his way to make her feel loved and special. On one particular night, the fighting had gotten really bad. The night her father chose to leave and never come back, choosing the other woman over her mother, Lucas, and herself. That night she ran to her room and hid in the closet. She kept a secret in there. An adorable purple stuffed giraffe her parents had given her when she was born. Huddling under a blanket she held on to Bebe for dear life. That night, her brother came to find her, looking for her in her room, knowing there were only so many places she could be hiding. Not finding her immediately and checking under the bed and still not finding her. He turned and moved and checked the closet. Seeing her with tears falling from her eyes and seeing Bebe again in her arms; he crawled in under the blanket pulling the door shut behind him. It only took a second to pull Sunny into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around her as she laid the side of her head on his shoulder. Lucas was tall enough to feel the weight of several dresses on top of him, as he moved her while in his lap to a more comfortable position; leaning and resting against the back wall of the closet. Through the walls the shouting intensified, and the sound of breaking, shattering, and general mayhem as unknown objects had been moved from their places as they had been thrown. And with each new crashing sound, Sunny would tremble or jump, giving Lucas the extra reminder that something in the house was broken and in pieces. “I don’t know how, but I promise that someday everything will get better. None of this is our fault, it’s not your fault Sunny. Mom and dad can’t seem to see us anymore, and I know that hurts. But we have each other, and I love you. I can’t prove it right now, but someday everything will be OK.” With a raised and gentle whisper into her ear. The Heighten screaming began to raise in tempo and tenor, as the sound of hurried bodies made their way to the front of the house. And, moments later a large bang that caused Sunny to Jump in Lucas arms, another signal that something was broken and scattered. Their family; as their father left for good. Lucas tightened his hold on her when she jumped at the sound of the loud bang. And she cried. And cried while he brushed his fingers through her hair and patting her back. Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, Lucas let his pain flow gently down his cheeks, and then began to sing. In a soft and mournful tone, and with the occasional catch in in his throat; he sang slowly. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray, you'll never know, dear, how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away.” He sang a few rounds, holding her, and feeling the warmth of her body grow in his lap. It pained him that his parents could not see them anymore. And the saddest thing of all was they could not see the changes in Sunny. He knew there was nothing he could do for her, he just wished he knew what to do, and he worried for her. He did not want to imagine his sister deteriorating to the point where he had to call little services. He was not completely sure she was regressing or if was a coping mechanism for the stress of all the fighting. He had noticed things for a while, but it was so slow. Speaking softly then Leaning in as he spoke, he kissed her on the head after a short pause. “If we have to be sad Sunny, at least we are together. I love you sunshine, I always will.” “I love you too Lukey.”