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Hi guys! Here are the first two chapters for Araceli's Descent Into Babyhood. You can find chapter three and four already added to my website: The Padded Playground. There are new stories like Finding Mommy, Bully - A Mother's Forced Regression, and more. Be sure to check them out. Araceli's Descent Into Babyhood Lena looked around the room. It was a nursery, but everything was bigger than normal. A play pen in the middle filled with blankets and toys that could fit multiple adults in it. A crib on one corner, big enough for two adult women, and that crib wasn’t empty. Inside, a woman with olive skin and dark brown messy hair slept peacefully. She was naked but for a diaper, which was clearly wet. Araceli was sucking her thumb, probably dreaming about her past life. A life she had spent in the streets of Lima, begging for money to support herself and her children. Now, here she was, in America. In Lena’s home, sleeping like a baby, for a lack of a better word. Lena turned to see the camera pointed at the crib, recording Araceli’s every movement. And she couldn’t help but thinking about how she had made everything possible. How she turned the beggar mother into an ABDL superstar around the world. If the baby wasn’t sleeping she would’ve laughed diabolically. It was, after all, something only a villain would’ve done. Turn a mother from the streets into her perfect baby angel, submissive to her every command. Lena could’t deny it, she was proud of it. Chapter 1 Lena’s New Idea Lena looked at her phone and the endless notifications from her last post. It was a simple photo shoot of her wetting her diaper and then getting changed by a random fan she chose. It had gotten a lot of interactions; everyone wanted to have been that fan, and that kept her followers wanting more. But, if she was honest with herself, it wasn't the same anymore. She sighed, looking down the car window. The city was unlike anything she had seen before. A beautiful and endless green pier at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and she wasn't even in the nice part of the city yet. Perhaps, in the future, she thought, she could leave it behind. The idea of having to wear diapers and wetting or messing them up to make money for the rest of her life didn't seem as enticing as when she started selling content. She was running out of ideas to keep her followers satisfied. True, it gave her enough money to live a comfortable life. Not something the average ABDL content creator could say, but then again, not everyone had her hourglass figure and piercing blue eyes combined with long blonde hair, making her look like a baby Viking goddess when she was on character. At almost twenty-five, Lena couldn't have asked for better genetics. Her thoughts came back to the present when the car stopped, and she went down. The warmth of Lima radiated against her porcelain skin as she strolled past the elegant facade of the five-star hotel. In the heart of Lima's touristic district, restaurants and malls and beautiful parks were everywhere. And yet, on the streets, beggars. The taxi driver had told her they were Venezuelans, escaping from the horrors of socialism in their own country. Though, he pointed out, it wasn't that much better in Peru. Lena didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and smiled. Politics weren’t her thing. If anything, she just wanted to pay as little taxes as possible and not be bothered by anyone. But, confronted with it now, she felt sad for them. Something she could’ve just shake off once she was inside the hotel and that would’ve been it. And then it happened. She saw her first. Amidst the crowd, a woman in her late thirties with a beautiful tan, olive skin, and the deepest black eyes. She was tall for a Latina but with the natural curves of her people. Big breasts and a soft face, almost too soft for someone living in the streets. At that moment, Lena got an idea that would change her life and the life of that beautiful older woman who was asking for money from any and every tourist. Could it actually be possible that the beggar was the answer to her question? "Welcome to the Lima J.W. Marriott," said the guard, bringing her back into reality and helping Lena with her luggage. Lena didn’t answer. She was deep in thought. She didn’t want to be rude. No. But there was an idea forming in her mind. She felt the diaper around her crotch getting warmer. And the feeling of her urine against her skin confirmed what she wanted. She wanted out, and this was her opportunity. "Miss?" the guard asked again. "Could you get them inside," asked Lena, "I'll be back in a second. Thanks.” She rushed off, almost running, though the thick diaper wouldn’t allow too much movement. She rushed towards the woman she had seen, and stopped only when she was close enough to see her better. Her eyes had not lie. If she were clean and better fed, the mature woman could’ve been a former model. One of those Venezuelan ones that used to win every Miss Universe competition. "Excuse me," Lena began tentatively, not wanting to offend or scare the struggling mature woman, “Excuse me.” "Disculpe?" asked the woman, “Tiene dinero?” Lena smiled, giving her a ten-dollar bill, "English?" The woman nodded, "Little." "What's your name?” "Araceli." Looking at her closely, Lena could spot the dirt and stains in Araceli's clothing. She had probably haven't showered in a while. Her hair was messy and chaotic. She had lines around her eyes and dry lips. And yet, there was potential there that remained undiscovered. Exotic and sexy and, because of the woman’s demeanor, cuteness. With the right makeover and a proper cleanup - yeah, that would work. It would be perfect, and Lena’s own excitement made her already wet diaper soaked with her own juices. She could imagine herself diapering the woman, treating her like a baby for all her followers to see. She would be the mommy, not the baby anymore. Of course, she wouldn’t give up diapers. They were more for comfort and convenience than anything else. But yes, Araceli was the ideal candidate for her little experiment. She smiled, devilishly and charmingly, "Would you like more money?" Araceli nodded vigorously, "Yes, please.” "What would you do for it?" "How much?" "A thousand. Cash, I guess you don't really have a bank account, do you?” Araceli shook her head, "What do I do?" "Do you know what a diaper is?” Araceli nodded, though her eyes were perplexed at the question, "Babies, changes.” "Yeah," said Lena, "I'll give you a thousand dollars if you let me put one on you and then let me take photos and record it. It will be classy. Just one night. In my hotel room. No one else will be there. Just you and me.” Araceli looked lost for a second before she answered, "Porn?" Lena nodded, "A type of. But nothing too sexual unless you want to. Look, it's a lot of money, not just for someone living on the streets, but in general. Think about it. If you choose to do it, come to my hotel room. I'm in the penthouse. Ask for Miss Stone." Without letting the mature woman answer, she turned around, smiling, and walked back to her hotel. She stopped by the front door, right beside the security guard who had greeted her a few minutes before. He still had her luggage and a welcoming smile. "If the woman I was talking with comes asking for me. Show her to my room," she said, hanging him a fifty-dollar bill, "There's more if you're discreet about it." The guard’s smile grew bigger, “Yes, ma’am. Welcome to Lima City." Lena entered the hotel, "I'm going to like it here." Chapter 2 Mother & Daughter Araceli looked at her daughter. She was eagerly eating the street burger she had bought for them. Ten dollars wasn't a big thing for them gringos, but for her, it was life-changing. Her daughter had not known the taste of nice food in a while, and knowing she could change that for good made Araceli consider the proposal of the crazy white lady who gave her the money. Porn? Porn? But with diapers. It just didn't sound good. She said not really porn. Nothing too sexual. Was there not going to be coitus? Was it just the diaper? Those crazy people from first-world countries were really into some weird stuff, weren't they? "Are you okay, mom?" asked Maria. She looked like a clone of her mother but in the body of a nineteen-year-old. Even malnutrition hadn't taken away her beauty, and it was her beauty they were counting on when they escaped Venezuela. But when they arrived, they realized no matter how pretty they were, there were hundreds upon hundreds of them. Most Peruvians hated them, too. There were no opportunities. Chileans hated them. Argentinians hated them. Brazilians hated them. They were banned from El Salvador. It seemed they could only go to America, but getting there was the problem. Easy to go in, difficult to get there. "Mom?" asked Maria again. Araceli looked at her daughter and smiled, "Eat, honey.” Maria did as told. Mothers, especially those from Latin countries, would do anything for their kids. And if she wanted to call herself a real mother, she needed to step up. She couldn't let her daughter starve. And they needed a home. Somewhere to live. A thousand dollars was enough to rent an apartment for three months or more if they were smart about it. Maybe buy some cheap clothes. Eat properly for a while. But the shame of what she needed to do prevented her from committing to that decision. "Mom. That's it. Tell me what's going on," said Maria once more. Her daughter had always been more bossy and dominant than herself. It had gotten her into trouble, especially in a culture that didn't allow that on women. But Maria was also smart, maybe not street smart, but smart nonetheless. Emotionally smart would be the right word. "It's nothing, honey," she said, "I just got...a proposal." "A proposal?” Araceli nodded, "Yeah, a money-type proposal." "A job?” Araceli hesitated to share more with her daughter, but they were close. Best friends. There were no secrets between them, and that alone was the only reason they had survived so far. Together, they were stronger. They complemented each other. And her hesitation faded as she explained what had happened earlier that day. "Diapers? Porn? You aren't thinking about doing this. Are you?" asked Maria. Araceli nodded, "It's a lot of money. We could find a place to live." She looked around. They were sitting in a dark park, hoping no one would force them out until the morning. "But it's no different than having sex for money! No. You won't do it. I forbid it.” "I'm the mother.” "Yes, but I'm the one that takes care of us.” "Enough," said Araceli, putting her foot down for the very first time in her life, "I'm the adult here. You're only nineteen. I decide what we do, and if I decide I'm taking the offer, I will. No discussion." There was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Araceli tried to look away, giving her daughter some sense of space. Though, they dared not to get too far away from each other at night. "If I had a room, I'd rush there and stomp the door," said Maria, and Araceli chuckled, and she did, too, "When do you have to do it?" …………………………………………… In her hotel, Lena had everything ready. She had bought diapers she was sure would fit Araceli. They had different bodies and hers wouldn’t actually cut it for what she intended. She also got more baby powder and baby wipes for diaper changes. Her camera was already set up. And she had the cash ready. She even ordered food and alcohol, perhaps, it would help break the ice. And now she waited. It would be her first time as someone's caregiver. The idea itself was exhilarating, enough to create a sense of warmness between her crotch. Knowing Araceli was vanilla and, like most people in the region, probably conservative, made the entire idea even more exciting. Controlling someone twice her age was something she had never expected, but it was a welcomed change. While she waited, she thought, why not? Her finger found their way to her wet pussy, caressing it slowly and carefully at first, thinking about the mature woman who she would soon put back in diapers. Lena was never meant to be the baby. She had always craved to be in charge. And now she was close to it and as the thought came to her mind, she reached the best climax she had had in ages. Her heart was beating fast and she was sweating slightly, and she was naked on top of the bed. It was going to be an interesting experience, that was for sure. She smiled and kept waiting. …………………………………………… Araceli didn't know what to say or how to act. Everyone in the hotel looked at her as if she had some sort of disease. She kept telling herself it was for her daughter, but she had to admit, that it was mostly for her. She wanted a better life. A different life. Her daughter didn’t mind. She didn’t lost everything when communism destroyed her country. She was born in poverty already, and it’s easier to live knowing you haven’t lost anything than it is to accept what you had is gone. She sighed as she found her way around the hotel hallways and stairs. She dared not take the elevator. Her smell alone would make it unpleasant for everyone, so she took the long route to the penthouse floor where the security guard told her Lena would be waiting. The outside of the hotel was luxurious and elegant, but inside, it was like something out of her imagination. If this was how people lived in countries with decent economies, was it better somewhere else? America, perhaps, was as good as her acquaintances had told her. She walked down the aisles and through, looking for the room where she would earn money enough to change her daughter’s life for good. If only it didn’t mean dishonoring herself. If only she didn’t have to submit to others’ demands to survive. She cursed her luck as the thought of being diapered again by someone much younger than her rushed through her brain. Would it be that bad? She had no time to answer herself as she reached Lena’s room. Hesitant, she knocked, and within a few seconds, the door opened. She took a deep breath and stepped in. The room was dimly lit, but she could make out the figure of a woman, younger than herself, sitting on a couch. She was sipping on a glass of wine, and her eyes seemed to sparkle in the low light. The fragrance of fresh flowers filled the air, and soft, sensuous music played in the background. It was a surreal environment, so far removed from her reality that it left her feeling like she had walked into a dream. "Hola, Araceli," Lena greeted her warmly, setting her glass down on the table, "That's about as much Spanish you'll hear from me, though." There was a long pause as Araceli closed the door behind her. “Are you ready for this?” Asked Lena. Araceli nodded, hesitant about her answer, but knowing there was no other way for her.

Here we go again. As I had just started writing my first story ever (Whispers in the Dark), I already learned a ton. While I still uses crutches (AI), I thought I could already use what I've learned with Whispers in the Dark and apply it to a new, more thought out story. This one is already mostly outlined, has longer chapters and a completely different theme to it. I will still continue Whispers in the Dark of course, but while that one is only roughly planned in my head, this new one is fully planned out on paper. Except for one wetting scene, the build up is rather slow, but it will be worth it. I have a lot planned for this story. You can view the first 3 chapters as some kind of very long prologue. Let me know what you think! Under Pressure Innocence in the Shadow of Power Chapter 1 - Birthday Under the soothing rush of the shower, I felt the weight of today pressing down on me. It was a pivotal moment, the divide between the life I'd grown accustomed to and the uncertain horizon ahead. Each droplet mingling with my tears seemed to underscore the harsh reality: I was saying goodbye to the comfort of my tiny apartment, facing the daunting prospect of nowhere to belong. "Happy birthday, Feli," I murmured to my reflection as I emerged from the steam. Felicity von Sterntal—that's my full name. The "von" part adds a touch of German flair, a nod to nobility, though our family's far from royal. My grandparents, German immigrants who made their way to the USA in the 60s, christened me with the nickname "Feli," though it's pronounced more like "Fehly." I never really knew them, as they passed when I was just a baby. Still, I've grown fond of my name. It's distinct, and it ties me to something, even if it's just the echoes of the past. Drawing upon every bit of strength I could muster, I willed a smile onto my lips, hoping to cloak the uncertainty gnawing at my core. The girl in the mirror, barely reaching five feet tall, her deep blue eyes framed by unruly black hair cascading down to her mid-back, reflected my forced composure. Despite my 18 years, she seemed more like a lost teenager navigating the tumult of adolescence rather than on the brink of adulthood. As I locked eyes with her, the facade faltered, exposing the raw loneliness lurking beneath the surface. She lacked the confidence she sought to project. Stepping into my living room—well, my only room—a wave of sadness engulfed me. Today marked the end of calling this place home. Glancing around, memories flooded back, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. In one corner stood my tiny kitchen, equipped with just the basics: stove, sink, fridge, and microwave. It had witnessed its fair share of culinary experiments and mishaps. Opposite the kitchen, my bed nestled into another corner, its modest size a testament to the limited space. Despite its smallness, it had cradled me through countless nights of rest and contemplation. Across from the bed, my desk stood, once housing my PC which I'd already packed away. It had been my sanctuary for studying and coding, a space of productivity and focus. And lots and lots of gaming. Now, everything else was neatly packed in boxes, except for my trusty backpack holding the essentials: phone, laptop, and a few changes of clothes. As I surveyed the remnants of my life here, a shroud of uncertainty settled over my thoughts. I scooped up the final crumbs of cereal from the box, a stark reminder of dwindling supplies in my modest kitchen. With a sigh, I sank into the worn chair at my desk, spoon in hand, and retrieved the letter once more. Its contents had been etched into my memory since its arrival on the day of my high school graduation, just weeks ago. As I savored the last bites of cereal, I read over the letter one last time. Dear Felicity, We hope this letter finds you well. It is with careful consideration that your mother and I have reached a decision regarding your financial support. As you have successfully completed your high school education and are soon to reach the age of majority, we believe it is appropriate to adjust our financial arrangements accordingly. Regrettably, we must inform you that, effective immediately, we will no longer be providing you with financial assistance, including your allowance. Furthermore, in light of your impending 18th birthday, arrangements have been made for movers to assist you in vacating the apartment that we have provided for you. We view this transition as a gesture of our support and encouragement as you embark on the next chapter of your life. Please be prepared to surrender your keys to the designated representative upon their arrival. With warm regards, Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal It was a cruel slap in the face, a harsh reminder of my parents' indifference, their decision to cut off the last lifeline of financial support right on the brink of my adulthood. As I absorbed the cold, impersonal words of the letter, a surge of anger and resentment boiled within me. This wasn't just about money; it was a final abandonment, a deliberate shove into the abyss of independence. The memory of how I came to live in this apartment at such a young age flooded back, stirring up a blend of bitterness and resignation. My parents, consumed by their careers and absent from my life, had effectively abandoned their parental duties when I was just fifteen. Their presence had never been significant anyway; nannies had filled the void left by their absence, their faces blending into a blur of caretakers who had come and gone over the years. Despite their neglect, the apartment had provided a semblance of stability in a chaotic world. It was my sanctuary, my own space amidst the turmoil. And now, as they callously stripped away even that small comfort, I couldn't help but feel bitterness at the injustice of it all. With a heavy heart, I folded the letter and set it aside, its implications casting a palpable weight in the air. The cereal in my bowl had lost its appeal, each spoonful a bitter reminder of the uncertainty looming ahead. As the minutes stretched on, I pondered the cruel irony of their supposed "birthday gift," a gesture tinged with spite rather than kindness. And as the harsh reality of my situation settled in, I steeled myself for the turbulent road ahead, resolved to carve out my own path despite the hurdles in my way. As the doorbell shattered the quiet of my apartment, I braced myself for the inevitable. With a steadying breath, I crossed the room and swung open the door, greeted by the stern gaze of a man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a somber suit. His presence filled the doorway, a forewarning of the chaos awaiting me. Introducing himself as a representative of the von Sterntal family, a bitter irony settled over me at the shared surname, a reminder of the tangled connections binding me to this tumultuous moment. Behind him, a group of movers stood with downcast expressions, their sympathetic glances betraying their discomfort at being complicit in my forced eviction. It seemed they had been briefed on the situation, their professional demeanor tinged with a touch of empathy. "Miss von Sterntal," the representative began, his voice laced with formality. "I assume you're aware of the purpose of our visit," he continued, his gaze drifting to the neatly packed boxes scattered throughout the apartment, silent witnesses to the impending upheaval. I simply nodded, the lump in my throat stifling any words that threatened to escape. "Very well," he said briskly, his tone businesslike. "If you could just sign here and hand over the keys, we'll take care of the rest." His smile carried a hint of reassurance, emphasizing that the movers' services came without cost to me. With a resigned acceptance, I took the document and signed it, my signature a stark acknowledgment of my departure from the property. Handing over the keys, I watched as the movers sprang into action, loading my belongings into the waiting truck. It was a transaction devoid of choice, a forced relinquishment of my home, as I stood by, a silent witness to the unraveling of my life. As the movers finished loading my belongings, I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the only link to the life I was leaving behind. With a final click, the representative locked the door, marking the end of an era. As we headed towards the waiting truck, he spoke up once more, offering me a semblance of choice amidst the chaos. "The movers will take you wherever you want," he said, his words a small act of kindness in the midst of turmoil. And just before we parted ways, he added, "Oh, and Miss von Sterntal, happy birthday by the way." His well-wishes hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the cruel twist of fate that marked the day. With a handshake and a farewell, he left me standing there, the taste of bitterness lingering. As the truck pulled away, carrying me towards an uncertain future, I couldn't help but resent the hollow birthday wishes, a stark reminder of the emptiness awaiting me. I directed the movers towards a storage unit I had booked online for a week, a temporary sanctuary for the fragments of my past life. It was a pragmatic solution, born from necessity with the scant funds left to me by my parents. As we navigated the bustling streets of the city, I couldn't shake off the irony of my circumstances. Despite being the offspring of the private owners and executives of a multi-billion-dollar tech empire nestled in the heart of NYC, their generosity towards me had always been in short supply. Their reminders of my status as their "accident" reverberated in my thoughts, a persistent reminder of my position on the fringes of their world. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that despite their wealth and influence, I was little more than an inconvenience to them. And as we unloaded the remnants of my former life into the storage unit, I felt the weight of their neglect bearing down on me, a burden I carried with me into an uncertain future. As the movers drove off, leaving me to face the stark reality of my situation, I gazed at the orderly array of boxes in the storage unit. Each one contained memories and possessions, now symbolizing the entirety of my existence. This was it – my entire life condensed into a confined space, a tangible manifestation of the upheaval that had swept through my world in a single day. Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks as emotions flooded over me. Time seemed to blur as I sat amidst my belongings, the weight of my newfound homelessness crashing down on me in relentless waves. In that moment of vulnerability, every suppressed feeling from the day – the abandonment, the betrayal, the uncertainty – converged, drowning me in a torrent of despair. I couldn't tell how long I stayed there, lost in the abyss of my anguish. All I knew was that this was my reality now – adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with nowhere to call home. As I closed the storage unit, a heavy sigh escaped my lips, mingling with the chill of the morning air. My backpack felt like a lifeline, its weight a reminder of the few possessions I still possessed. While my plans for the days ahead seemed meager, tinged with a sense of futility, I trudged along the bustling streets of New York City. Each step carried the weight of uncertainty, a burden I had grown accustomed to bearing alone. As I rounded a corner, my gaze inevitably fell upon the towering silhouette of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper, its imposing presence etched into the city skyline. I knew every facet of that building all too well, a monument to the wealth and success my parents had achieved. Yet, it also symbolized the stark divide between their world of privilege and my own neglected existence. High above, on the top floor, lay the domain of Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal, my parents, seemingly peering down on me from their ivory tower. The shadow cast by their empire seemed to mirror the shadow they had cast over my life, leaving me in the darkness of their neglect. Shaking my head to dispel the troubling thoughts, I stepped into the warmth of a nearby cafe, seeking refuge from the chill of the city streets. Dwelling on the weight of my circumstances was a luxury I couldn't afford at the moment; practical matters demanded my attention. With each passing moment, the reality of my situation loomed larger—I didn't even have a place to rest my head for the night. The uncertainty gnawed at me, fueling a sense of urgency as I scanned the bustling cafe for a temporary respite from my troubles. Choosing a solitary spot by the expansive window, I couldn't help but feel drawn to the lone chair stationed beside the table. It seemed to mirror my own isolation, a silent companion in the midst of a crowded cafe. As I settled into the seat, I signaled the server and placed an order for a simple tea, mindful of my dwindling funds. The price felt steep for such a basic beverage, but I knew the cost was necessary to gain access to the cafe's WiFi—a lifeline in my current predicament. With a sense of resolve, I awaited my order, hoping that the warmth of the tea would offer some solace amidst the uncertainty of my circumstances. Taking a cautious sip of the steaming tea, I set my laptop upon the table and powered it up, the soft glow of the screen casting a comforting light in the dimly lit cafe. With a sense of determination, I delved into the task at hand, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I navigated through job listings and online applications. The simplicity of my plan belied the daunting reality of my situation—I was an 18-year-old with only a high school diploma, adrift in the competitive landscape of New York City's job market. Yet, despite the odds stacked against me, I poured all my energy into the search, knowing that every opportunity seized could mean the difference between survival and succumbing to the shadows of my circumstances. As I sifted through yet another round of discouraging rejection emails flooding my inbox, my focus was abruptly shattered by the boisterous entrance of a man engaged in a heated phone conversation. His voice carried above the ambient chatter of the cafe, drawing the attention of patrons with its intensity. Despite my initial reluctance to eavesdrop, I found myself inadvertently tuning in to his conversation, snippets of disdain toward a VIP client punctuating the air. Intrigued, I observed him as he made his way to the counter, his animated gestures betraying the gravity of his conversation. With a sense of curiosity, I couldn't help but wonder about the complexities of his world, momentarily distracted from the weight of my own struggles by the drama unfolding before me. Feigning engrossment in my laptop screen, I diverted my gaze as the man collected his coffee and turned in my direction. Discomfort prickled at the edges of my consciousness; I loathed the idea of being caught staring, a violation of the unspoken etiquette of public spaces. With practiced nonchalance, I buried myself in the facade of productivity, my fingers tracing absent patterns on the keyboard as I scrolled through meaningless content. As the man fell silent, a fleeting sense of dread coiled within me, only to be shattered by the resumption of his conversation moments later. Relief washed over me as he departed the cafe without so much as a second glance in my direction, leaving me to exhale a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The brief encounter served as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between privacy and observation in the bustling landscape of city life. As the hours slipped away, so too did the fragile tendrils of hope that had buoyed my spirits earlier in the day. Despite my best efforts, the job search yielded little more than a string of rejections, each one serving as a stark reminder of the uphill battle I faced in securing employment. With a heavy heart, I conceded to the reality of the situation—I had made little progress, and time was slipping away. Gathering my belongings and tucking my laptop securely into my backpack, I steeled myself for the next hurdle: finding shelter for the night. The uncertainty loomed large, casting a shadow over my already precarious existence, but I refused to succumb to despair. With determination fueling my steps, I pushed open the door of the cafe and stepped back out into the bustling streets of New York City. With a bag of chips clasped tightly in my hand, I embarked on a solitary journey through the labyrinth of city streets, my footsteps echoing against the pavement as I wandered aimlessly. The neon glow of storefronts illuminated the impending darkness, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the concrete. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a constant reminder of the meager sustenance I had managed to scrounge up for dinner. Yet, as I roamed the unfamiliar terrain, a sense of helplessness washed over me, amplifying the weight of my circumstances. The prospect of renting a room or even a bed felt like an impossible luxury, far beyond the reach of my limited means. Lost in the sea of uncertainty, I struggled to discern a path forward, the cityscape looming around me like an insurmountable obstacle. Sitting down heavily on a bench, I sought solace in the simple act of munching on the salt-flavored chips, their flavor resembling the silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. As I gazed into the distance, my eyes inevitably landed on the looming presence of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper once again, its towering silhouette a constant reminder of my own inadequacy in the shadow of my parents' success. A surge of defiance rose within me, driving me to shake off the suffocating weight of helplessness that threatened to engulf me. With a resolute shake of my head, I refused to surrender to despair. Pushing myself upright, I continued to scour the streets for any glimmer of hope, a beacon amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me whole. Rounding a corner, my weary eyes alighted upon a surprisingly pristine alleyway nestled beside the imposing facade of a law firm. Shielded from the harsh gaze of the bustling street and buffered from the relentless gusts of wind that swept through the city, the alley offered a semblance of respite amidst the chaos of urban life. With darkness descending upon the cityscape and exhaustion weighing heavy upon my shoulders, I knew that this secluded alcove would have to suffice for the night. Despite the pang of discomfort that gnawed at my conscience, I resolved to make the best of the situation, clinging to the fleeting sense of security offered by the sheltered confines of the alleyway. With a weary sigh, I nestled against the unyielding coolness of the concrete wall, my jacket wrapped tightly around me in a feeble attempt to stave off the chill of the night air. Clutching my backpack to my chest like a lifeline, I sought solace in the familiar weight of my belongings, their presence a source of comfort amidst the uncertainty that loomed around me. As exhaustion weighed heavy upon my eyelids, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into the welcoming embrace of sleep, the cacophony of the city fading into the background as I surrendered to the oblivion of slumber. In the solitude of the alleyway, I found a fleeting sense of peace, a respite from the trials and tribulations that had plagued me throughout the day. And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moonlight, I surrendered myself to the darkness, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of dreams. Chapter 2 - John I woke up to the raucous symphony of the waking city, my body stiff and sore from the uncomfortable concrete floor of the alley. The cold seeped into my bones, a reminder of the unforgiving night that had passed. Determination surged within me as I made a mental note to invest in a sleeping bag, albeit a budget-friendly one. Luxury was a distant concept now. Every expense had to be carefully weighed against necessity, but not freezing to death seemed necessary enough. The distant rumble of a garbage truck echoed down the street, prompting me to glance towards the nearby dumpster that had offered me some semblance of privacy throughout the night. Taking it as my cue to depart, I pushed myself up from the cold concrete, aching muscles protesting the movement. With a determined resolve, I reaffirmed my plan for the day, the same as yesterday, unaltered despite the discomforts of the night. With my trusty backpack snug against my back, I traversed the bustling streets, a lone figure amidst the throngs of morning commuters. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from a nearby bakery, tempting me with its promise of sustenance. Yielding to the growling protest of my stomach, I indulged in a modest yet satisfying sandwich, procured with the meager funds at my disposal. Satiated, albeit temporarily, I continued on my journey, guided by a sense of familiarity towards the same cafe that had become my refuge the day before. Entering the cafe, I was greeted by a comforting wave of warmth and the familiar aroma of brewing coffee. It felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of my current circumstances. Glancing over to the corner where I had sat the day before, I breathed a sigh of relief to find it still vacant, my spot waiting for me like an old friend. With a sense of quiet determination, I settled into the familiar surroundings, ordering another one of the overpriced teas that had become a guilty pleasure amidst my frugality. Opening my laptop, I delved once more into the relentless task of scouring job listings, navigating the virtual labyrinth in search of a beacon of hope amidst the sea of rejections. It was a bitter irony that plagued my thoughts as I sifted through the digital landscape of job postings. The online forums, where praise flowed freely for my coding prowess, seemed worlds apart from the harsh reality of my current situation. Despite being self-taught and garnering accolades from virtual strangers, I had faltered in monetizing my skills, relegating them to the realm of mere hobbyism. Coding and gaming had long served as my refuge, a sanctuary from the tumultuous years of high school and the suffocating grip of loneliness. Yet, as I now grappled with the daunting task of securing employment to sustain myself, the weight of my perceived failure pressed down upon me like a suffocating blanket. If only my parents had told me sooner, I would’ve probably had something figured out by now. Lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts, I found myself gazing absently out the window, the passing scenery a blur against the canvas of my mind. It was then that I noticed the familiar figure of the man from the day before, striding purposefully towards the entrance of the cafe. A pang of apprehension gripped me, prompting a swift diversion of my attention back to the glowing screen of my laptop. Tuning in to the ambient sounds of the cafe, I couldn't help but overhear his order, a simple request for a coffee to go, mirroring his routine from the previous day. A subtle sense of curiosity stirred within me, mingling with a tinge of unease as I pondered the significance of his presence once more. As I remained engrossed in my task of scouring job listings and dispatching applications into the digital void, the absence of the man's departure did not escape my notice. Despite his initial intention of ordering a coffee to go, the distinct lack of movement behind me hinted at his lingering presence within the confines of the cafe. Resolutely keeping my focus trained on the flickering glow of my laptop screen, I resisted the temptation to steal a glance over my shoulder, preferring to remain ensconced in my own world. Time drifted by in the steady rhythm of keystrokes and mouse clicks, punctuated only by the murmurs of other patrons and the occasional clink of ceramic against tabletops. It wasn't until a considerable while later that I observed his departure from the corner of my eye, his enigmatic presence departing as quietly as it had arrived. A fleeting curiosity stirred within me, fleeting thoughts of his peculiar aura and expensive attire crossing my mind before swiftly dissipating amidst the urgency of my own endeavors. As the day wore on and my focus waned, I made the decision to call it quits, at least for the time being. With a newfound determination fueled by a semblance of planning, I bid farewell to the comforting confines of the cafe and ventured back out into the bustling streets. Remembering the necessity of securing a sleeping bag for the impending night, I retraced my steps to the store I had spotted that morning. Scanning the shelves for the most budget-friendly option, I finally settled on the cheapest offering. Though it offered no protection against dampness, it was a small comfort knowing that it would stave off the biting cold, leaving me with enough funds to sustain myself with nourishment for a few more days to come. With a sense of resignation gnawing at my insides, I purchased another bag of chips, though acutely aware of their meager nutritional value. As I trudged back towards the alley that had become my makeshift refuge, I couldn't help but cast a glance towards the towering spire that housed my parents' corporate empire. Biting down on a chip, the taste a bitter reminder of my circumstances, I felt a surge of despair welling within me. The sight of their skyscraper loomed over me like a mocking specter, a constant reminder of the chasm that separated us, both physically and emotionally. With clenched teeth and a fervent hope burning within my chest, I prayed that this dismal routine would soon become nothing more than a painful memory of a bygone era. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the biting chill of the night descended upon the city, I nestled into the familiarity of my chosen spot within the alley. With the thin barrier of the sleeping bag offering a modicum of warmth, I settled down, leaning against my backpack for a semblance of comfort. Tears welled in my eyes, tracing silent pathways down my cheeks, as the crushing weight of my predicament enveloped me once more. In the darkness, surrounded by the echoes of solitude, I felt the suffocating embrace of hopelessness tighten its grip around my heart. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of determination burned within me, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the engulfing darkness. Clinging to that glimmer of resilience like a lifeline, I vowed silently to myself that I would not succumb, that I would persevere against the odds, no matter how insurmountable they seemed. For in the depths of my despair, I found a resolve that whispered fiercely in the silence: I could not give up. I would not give up. As I stirred from my fitful slumber, the city had already sprung to life around me, its bustling energy a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the alley. Despite the persistent ache that clung to my body like a lingering shadow, I couldn't help but acknowledge the small comfort afforded by the sleeping bag wrapped around me. Unlike the previous night, the shivers that had plagued me were noticeably absent. The sleeping bag had proven to be a worthwhile investment. With a weary yet grateful sigh, I rose to my feet and carefully packed up my sleeping bag, folding it neatly as I prepared to face another day. Embracing the familiarity of my newfound routine, I steeled myself for the challenges that lay ahead. As I retraced the familiar steps of my routine, grabbing the same sandwich from the same bakery and making my way to the same cafe, I couldn't help but marvel at the swiftness with which humans could fall into patterns. Yet, upon entering the cafe, the comfort of routine shattered in an instant. Seated at my usual spot in front of the window, in the corner, was the enigmatic man who had piqued my curiosity the days before. His gaze was fixed out the window, lost in thought as he sipped on his coffee. A sense of intrigue tinged with apprehension washed over me as I hesitated in the doorway, uncertain of how to proceed in the wake of this unexpected disruption to my routine. With a resentful glance at the man's back, I took a seat behind him, my frustration simmering beneath the surface as I ordered my tea and opened my laptop to resume my job hunt. Sighing heavily, I couldn't help but feel the weight of disappointment as I sifted through the slew of new rejections that had flooded my inbox. Another day stretching out before me, seemingly destined to end in the same vein of fruitless endeavors and dashed hopes. Lost in the rhythm of typing out applications, I was jolted from my focus by the subtle stirrings of the man in front of me. Ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the screen, hoping to avoid any unwanted interactions. Yet, despite my efforts to feign indifference, I could sense his probing gaze boring into me, a silent weight that I could no longer ignore. After what felt like an eternity of silent scrutiny, I relented, lifting my eyes from the screen to meet his gaze. To my surprise, he had moved closer, now sitting directly in front of me, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Hi, I'm John," he said, extending a hand in greeting, but I remained rigid, my gaze locked in a glare, still nursing my resentment for his disruption of my routine. His attempt at cordiality was met with my silent rebuke. "All right, all right," he continued, his tone laced with a hint of apology, "I apologize for taking your spot, but I needed an excuse to talk to you." His words hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of his admission. Despite my lingering irritation, a flicker of curiosity sparked within me, compelling me to lower my guard ever so slightly. "That's a pretty bad excuse," I retorted sharply, my glare unwavering as I remained guarded. "Yeah, probably," he chuckled in response, his admission punctuated by a hint of self-awareness. Yet, before I could respond further, he continued, his demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. "Anyway, I wanted to make you an offer," he stated, his eyes appraising me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "And I think you'd be perfect for this." Despite my lingering apprehension, the mention of an offer piqued my curiosity, stirring a mixture of intrigue and caution within me. His lingering gaze, however, remained a discomforting reminder of the unease that still lingered between us. "What kind of offer?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as he smirked in response, a gesture that already grated on my nerves. "It's something I can't talk about in detail here, but it will be very profitable for you and you seem perfect for this," he replied, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made me uneasy. He jotted down his phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across the table before standing up. "I bet you could really use some money right now," he remarked, his eyes trailing over to my backpack and sleeping bag beside me, sending a chill down my spine. As he made his exit from the cafe, he spoke once more, his parting words hanging in the air like a weight upon my shoulders. "Give me a ring, Miss von Sterntal," he said, the mention of my name sending a jolt of mortification through me. I watched in silence as he left the cafe, his words echoing in my mind, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in their wake. As I sat there, grappling with the unsettling revelation that dawned upon me, I pieced together the puzzle in my mind. He had been watching me, studying my every move. Perhaps he had glanced over my shoulder yesterday, observing the desperation with which I scoured job listings and sifted through rejection letters. My name, Felicity von Sterntal, had undoubtedly been revealed through the numerous applications I had submitted, a detail he could have easily gleaned. And the presence of the sleeping bag, a symbol of my desperation and downtrodden circumstances, likely provided him with the final confirmation he needed. It became painfully clear that I must have appeared to him as the perfect victim for whatever scheme he was plotting. The realization sent a chill down my spine, a wave of vulnerability washing over me as I grappled with the unsettling implications of his calculated observation. With a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach, I resolved to proceed with caution, wary of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of his enticing offer. As I continued to sift through job offers, the memory of John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the reservations gnawing at my conscience, I couldn't shake the allure of his seemingly affluent demeanor and the enigmatic promise he had made. His professional attire and confident demeanor bespoke a level of wealth and influence that was undeniably intriguing, especially for someone who appeared to be in his late twenties. Yet, as I found myself briefly succumbing to the fleeting temptation, a resolute determination surged within me. I shook my head. I refused to entertain the notion of compromising my principles, even in the face of such uncertainty and desperation. The thought of possibly engaging in anything of a sexual nature for monetary gain was quickly dismissed, my self-worth and dignity too precious to be bartered away. Also it’s not like I have any sexual experience anyway. However, despite my resolve, a speck of curiosity about John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind. As I continued to sift through job offers, his presence remained a lingering question mark, tugging at the edges of my consciousness with a persistent allure that I couldn't quite shake. The day dragged on, each passing moment marked by the familiar sting of disappointment as my efforts yielded no success. Despite the mysterious interruption earlier, I quickly regained my focus, returning to the monotonous routine of job hunting. A while later, seated in the same spot, beneath the looming shadow of the skyscraper that towered above me and reminded me of my past, I found myself lost in thought, munching on the same kind of chips that had become a staple of my meager diet. As I chewed on the familiar salty snack, the memories of the past days flooded through me, a relentless tide of reminders of my struggles and setbacks. The relentless cycle of uncertainty weighed heavily on my mind, a constant reminder of the uphill battle I faced in clawing my way out of the depths of despair. Amidst the turmoil of my thoughts, a simple realization emerged: I needed to break free from the confines of this repetitive existence, starting with something as simple as changing my dinner menu for tomorrow. With a heavy sigh, I rose from my seat and began the familiar trek towards my secluded alley. As I passed by the office of the law firm, now a fixture in my daily surroundings, I couldn't help but steal a longing glance through the windows, pondering the lives of those within. Lost in idle daydreams, my attention was abruptly shattered when I found myself locking eyes with a man about to step into an elevator at the back of the lobby. It was John, and to my horror, he had noticed me too. Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, flushing my cheeks with embarrassment as I hastily averted my gaze and bolted around the corner, seeking refuge in the safety of my alley sanctuary. The encounter left me rattled, a knot of apprehension coiling in the pit of my stomach as I grappled with the unsettling implications of our unexpected meeting. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon me as I settled into my makeshift resting place behind the dumpster, seeking solace in the refuge of sleep. Yet, despite my weariness, rest proved elusive as I found myself caught in a hazy limbo between wakefulness and slumber. Memories of the day swirled around in my mind like a tumultuous whirlwind, refusing to grant me the respite I so desperately sought, leaving me in a disorienting haze where they swirled like fragments of a fractured reality. Amidst the fog of my memories, John's face emerged intermittently, a haunting presence that lingered on the fringes of my consciousness. Despite my best efforts to find respite in sleep, his haunting gaze seemed to follow me into the realm of dreams, casting a shadow of unease over the fragile sanctuary of my thoughts. And so, I remained suspended in a daze, trapped in the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, grappling with the unsettling echoes of the day's events that refused to be silenced. As I drifted on the precipice of sleep, I was violently yanked back into consciousness by the sensation of someone shaking me with rough urgency. With a gasp, my eyes flew open to behold two looming figures, their silhouettes cast in stark relief against the feeble glow of the street lantern that pierced the darkness of the alley. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, as fear surged through every fiber of my being, rendering me paralyzed in shock. Tears streamed down my face in torrents, blurring my vision as I trembled uncontrollably, a helpless captive to the terror that gripped me in its merciless embrace. Frozen in place, I could do naught but gaze up at the looming shadows, consumed by a suffocating sense of vulnerability in the face of the unknown. "Hey girl, give us all of your money!" one of the figures demanded, their voice dripping with menace as a sinister smirk danced upon their lips, barely visible in the dim illumination of the street lantern. "I-I-I don't have a-any," I managed to stammer out through trembling lips, my voice barely above a whisper as tears continued to stream down my face, betraying my overwhelming fear. Before I could even comprehend their next move, they lunged forward, seizing my backpack from my grasp with ruthless efficiency. Despite my feeble attempts to resist, I found myself held down by unseen hands, rendered powerless by the shock that still held me captive in its grip. Helplessly, I watched as they emptied the contents of my backpack onto the cold pavement, their greedy hands sifting through my meager belongings with callous disregard. Each item strewn haphazardly before me served as a stark reminder of the fragility of my existence, a harsh testament to the cruelty of fate in a world that showed no mercy to the downtrodden. "HEY!" a voice suddenly pierced the tense air, echoing through the alleyway as the sound of running footsteps grew louder. "What's going on here? Leave her alone!" the voice thundered with authority, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh shit, let's go," one of the figures muttered to the other, their panicked voices barely audible over the pounding of my heart. With swift movements, they fled towards the other end of the alley, their forms disappearing into the darkness as they vanished from sight. The mysterious man, who had come to my rescue, pursued them briefly before coming to a halt, realizing they were already out of reach. With a heavy exhale, he turned his attention back to me, his gaze softening as he took in the sight before him. I remained huddled atop my sleeping bag, my face buried in my knees which I clutched tightly to my chest. Shivers wracked my body as tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the remnants of fear that still lingered in the air. My meager belongings lay strewn around me, a pitiful testament to the vulnerability that had been laid bare in the face of danger. "Miss von Sterntal?" The words escaped the mysterious man's lips in a gasp of recognition, his hand instinctively rising to cover his mouth as he took in the sight before him. My eyes lifted for the first time, meeting his gaze, and the realization washed over me like a tidal wave. "John?" I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Too many thoughts and feelings raced through my mind at once, leaving me reeling in the aftermath of the harrowing ordeal. In that moment, as our eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding, the boundaries between us blurred, and I found myself clinging to the unexpected connection that had emerged between us in the midst of chaos. Chapter 3 - Luxury John crouched in front of me, his concern etched on his face. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" he asked, his voice gentle yet firm. I shook my head weakly, huddling closer to my knees on the sleeping bag. His eyes scanned the alleyway, taking in the scattered contents of my backpack. "Is this where you've been staying?" he inquired, his tone filled with both curiosity and concern. I nodded silently, feeling a rush of shame at the admission. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. "I'll just gather my things and leave." As I started to clumsily gather my belongings and was about to stand up from my spot, I noticed the puddle underneath me and the wet clammy feeling of my pants. I must've wet myself out of fear. My face blushed crimson as another pang of shame overcame me. My pace quickened in an effort to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. "Felicity, wait," John said as he gently grabbed my arm, preventing me from packing any further. "Feli," I corrected softly, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me as I avoided his gaze. "I like Feli more," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, noticing the genuine concern etched into his expression. He released my arm, realizing he had my attention. "Listen, Feli," John began, his eyes holding mine with a mix of gentleness and authority. "I don't know exactly what your deal is, but I can see you're down on your luck. And I'm sure you have nowhere else to go, right?" he continued, his tone soft yet probing. I nodded meekly, feeling a knot form in my stomach as he scratched the stubble on his chin, his gaze sweeping over the scene before us. "I don't like intruding," he admitted, and I couldn't help but chuckle softly at his remark, recalling our awkward encounter in the café. "But I can't leave a young girl like you out on the streets like this." I looked down, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over me, making me feel even more vulnerable. "How about you come to my place for tonight? I've got a guest room where you can clean up and get some rest." His gaze fell on the puddle underneath me, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Does that sound good?" John asked, his voice tinged with concern. I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options. Despite my apprehension, the thought of a shower and a bed was too tempting to resist. I nodded meekly, realizing I had little choice but to trust him for now. With a sense of gratitude mingled with uncertainty, I allowed John to help me pack up my few belongings. Together, we made our way down the alley towards the street where a car was waiting for him, ready to take me to a place that was entirely unfamiliar yet offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness of the night. As we settled into the backseat of the car, the driver spoke up from the front. "Good evening, Mr. Harrington. Am I still bringing you back to your place?" he inquired, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Yes, please bring us home, Chuck," John confirmed, his voice carrying a note of weariness. The level of wealth where you could afford your own personal driver wasn't foreign to me, but it had been quite a few years since I'd experienced it firsthand. I sighed softly as I slumped back into my seat, feeling the uncomfortable wetness of my pants clinging to me, the exhaustion of the encounter finally catching up with me. As we passed through the bustling streets of NYC, my head rested against the cool window, my gaze fixed on the vibrant lights of the nightlife swirling by in a blur of colors and motion. A mix of uncertainty and hope tugged at my mind, a feeling that had become all too familiar to me lately. Amidst the chaos of the city, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for me in this unexpected turn of events. We entered the underground garage, bidding farewell to Chuck as he drove off. The dimly lit space felt strangely quiet after the chaos of the city streets. Following John, we made our way to an elevator, and he pressed the topmost button. The realization dawned on me that John's wealth surpassed what I had initially assumed, a notion that left me both impressed and apprehensive. As we ascended in the elevator, a sense of awkwardness settled between us, the silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the machinery. Finally, the doors opened, revealing a narrow hallway with just one door at the end. A penthouse, I surmised, my heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. John opened the door, inviting me into a world I had thought I would never see again. "Make yourself at home," John said, leading us through a small entryway into a sprawling living space. My eyes widened in awe as I took in the grandeur of the room. A luxurious couch sat in front of a massive TV atop a faux fireplace, exuding an air of opulence. One wall was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. I couldn't help but grimace as I spotted my parents' skyscraper in the distance, a stark reminder of the world I had left behind. An archway led to a spacious kitchen and dining area on one side of the room, while a few steps ascended to a corridor on the other. John guided me down the corridor and opened the first door on his right, revealing the large guest room. A queen-size bed occupied one wall, with a TV mounted opposite and a dresser beneath. In one corner, an en-suite awaited, offering a welcome respite from the chaos of the streets. "There's shower gel, towels, and spare toothbrushes. Do you need anything else?" John asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I shook my head, still stunned by the luxury and overwhelmed with gratitude. "Alright, I'll let you get cleaned up then," he said, turning to leave before pausing. "Oh, and are you hungry?" My stomach growled involuntarily, betraying my hunger. I was about to decline, not wanting to impose, but John's grin softened my resolve. "I'll make some sandwiches. Just join me in the kitchen when you're done," he said, offering a glimmer of warmth in the midst of uncertainty. With that, he left the en-suite, closing the door behind him, leaving me to soak in the surreal reality of my surroundings. As the warm water cascaded over me in the shower, washing away the grime and weariness of the night, a sense of clarity began to seep back into my mind. "I guess now I have to at least hear him out on his offer," I mumbled to myself, the words echoing in the solitude of the bathroom. Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off and donned a shirt and sweatpants from my backpack, feeling a semblance of comfort return with each familiar garment. With hesitant steps, I made my way towards the kitchen, where John sat at the dining table, enjoying a sandwich. An identical one sat on a plate opposite him, awaiting my arrival. I sat down, muttering a quiet "Thank you," before taking a bite of the sandwich, savoring the simple pleasure of a warm meal. As I ate, John began to speak, his voice calm yet determined. "Alright, here's the deal," he started, pausing between bites. "I'll let you stay the night and get some rest, and I'll be gone already when you wake up tomorrow." He continued, outlining my options for the following day. "Either you leave before I'm back from work, and I'll leave you alone from now on," he explained, his gaze searching mine for any hint of reaction. "Or you decide to stay and hear out my offer when I come home from work." I swallowed my bite of sandwich, considering his words carefully. "Why don't you just tell me about the offer right now?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. But John shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I can't," he replied firmly. "Not yet, at least. But I can tell you tomorrow evening. You're still free to decline once you've heard it, however." I nodded in understanding, realizing that there was more to this offer than met the eye. With a sense of anticipation tinged with apprehension, I finished my sandwich, knowing that the following day would bring with it a decision that could change the course of my life. "Go and get some rest," John commanded, his tone firm yet not unkind, as he cleared away our plates and brought them to the kitchen. I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine at his authoritative demeanor, but in the face of his generosity, I complied with his request nonetheless. As I settled into the plush comfort of the bed, the warmth enveloping me like a gentle embrace, I made a silent vow to myself. I wouldn't let fear or uncertainty hold me back any longer. I would hear him out the next day, whatever his offer may be. "I just really, really hope it's nothing sexual," I whispered to myself, the words lingering in the quiet of the room as I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with thoughts of the unknown future that awaited me. I woke up the next day, feeling surprisingly refreshed after a restful night's sleep. As I stretched and shook off the remnants of sleep, a sense of vitality surged through me. It had been a while since I had slept so well. Venturing out of the guest room, I found myself alone in the spacious apartment. John had already left, as he had promised. I made my way to the living room, drawn by the allure of the sprawling cityscape visible through the window. The sight of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper in the distance stirred a mix of emotions within me, a constant reminder of my past. "Make yourself at home," John's words echoed in my mind, and I resolved to do just that. Pushing aside the thoughts of my parents, I strode into the kitchen, where a delicious breakfast awaited me. The aroma of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. To my surprise, there was a small note waiting for me on the table. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back at 6. See you then! -J," it read, a simple yet thoughtful gesture. I couldn't help but wonder if John already knew that I would stay to hear him out. With gratitude in my heart, I sat down and began to savor the hearty breakfast, allowing myself to indulge in the simple pleasures of the moment, grateful for the warmth and hospitality that John had extended to me. As the hours passed by, I found myself unable to shake off the nervous anticipation that gripped me like a vice. Despite my initial intention to relax and enjoy the comforts of John's penthouse, the looming uncertainty of the evening weighed heavily on my mind. I tried to distract myself by flipping through channels on the TV, but my attention kept drifting back to the impending conversation with John. What could his offer possibly be? And more importantly, what would it mean for my future? With each passing minute, my nerves seemed to intensify, the unknown stretching out before me like an endless abyss. Despite my best efforts to quell my anxieties, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach, reminding me of the high stakes of the decision that awaited me. I was sprawled out on the couch, a large glass of juice sitting on the table in front of me when I heard the front door open. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was only 5 pm. Curious, I craned my neck to peer over the back of the couch toward the entryway, where a woman emerged carrying two bags of groceries. Our gazes met, and a moment of surprise passed between us. "Oh, hello, miss..." she began, expecting me to fill in the pause with my name. "Feli," I replied, offering a small smile. "Okay, Miss Feli, my apologies. I didn't know Mr. Harrington had a guest over," she continued, her tone polite yet curious. I chuckled softly at that. "It's just Feli," I clarified, feeling a pang of discomfort at the formalities. "That's short for Felicity." She nodded in understanding, her warm smile never faltering. "Who are you?" I questioned, returning the inquiry. "Call me Marge," she replied with a friendly smile, radiating a sense of maternal warmth. "I'm here to cook dinner for Mr. Harrington... and you, I guess?" she explained, her tone tinged with uncertainty. "I guess so," I replied with a shrug, watching as she excused herself to the kitchen to begin her work. As the minutes ticked by, I found it increasingly difficult to focus on the TV, my nerves getting the better of me. The tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen only served to heighten my anticipation, each passing moment feeling like an eternity. Then, at precisely 6:05 pm, the front door swung open once again. "Feli, I'm home," John called out, his voice carrying a sense of warmth and familiarity. I couldn't help but marvel at how confident he seemed that I would stay, a realization that brought a small smile to my lips as our gazes met. Despite my lingering nerves, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the sight of him. His warm smile was infectious, filling me with a sense of comfort and reassurance. While uncertainty still loomed on the horizon, the curiosity about his offer outweighed any lingering apprehension. I returned his smile, genuinely happy to see him. As he made his way toward me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that had led me here. Whatever lay ahead, I was determined not to miss out on the opportunity that lay before me, embracing the luxury and possibility that surrounded me in John's penthouse. Marge emerged from the kitchen just as John grabbed the TV remote and switched off the TV. "Did she behave?" he asked, his gaze directed at Marge. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as he spoke over my head about me. "Yes, Sir, Miss Feli behaved like an angel," Marge replied with a warm smile, her eyes flickering between John and me. We both chuckled at her formal address using my nickname, but I couldn't help but feel puzzled by their conversation. Why were they discussing my behavior as if I weren't in the room? And why did Marge feel the need to comment on it when we had barely interacted since she arrived? "Good to hear," John replied, grinning down at me with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that I had come to detest. "Dinner is served, Sir," Marge announced politely, breaking the momentary silence. "Thank you, Marge. You're excused," John replied, and Marge quickly gathered her things and left the penthouse. As John and I made our way toward the dining table, I couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had settled over me, a feeling that this dinner would bring with it more than just good food and polite conversation. We ate in silence for a while, savoring the delicious meal that Marge had prepared for us. The flavors danced on my tongue, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget about the weight of the impending conversation. John broke the silence as he took a sip from his glass of wine, his expression warm and genuine. "I'm glad you decided to stay," he said, his smile reaching his eyes. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words. "Well, the least I could do is hear you out after you've been so nice to me," I mumbled back, my voice barely above a whisper. I took another forkful of the heavenly food, grateful for the distraction it provided from the nervous tension that lingered between us. As John returned with two sets of papers and a pen, my heart skipped a beat at the sight. The weight of the moment hit me like a ton of bricks, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Just moments ago, it had all felt like a dream, but now, faced with the official-looking documents in front of me, it was undeniably real. He sat down opposite me, presenting one set of papers while holding onto the other. I could feel the tension in the air as he explained, "This is an NDA, a Non-Disclosure Agreement you need to sign. Once you've signed this, I can sue you if you tell anyone about what you're going to hear today. Marge also had to sign one before working for me." My throat went dry as I glanced over the paper, knowing full well the gravity of what I was about to agree to. I knew I needed to read it thoroughly before putting pen to paper. Skimming through the document, I confirmed that it was indeed just an NDA, outlining the terms of confidentiality regarding the information I was about to receive. Satisfied that I understood its contents, I took a deep breath and put my signature at the bottom of the page. Looking up at John expectantly, I braced myself for whatever revelation awaited me. As John placed the other set of papers in front of me, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me. But before I could even glance at the documents, he kept his hand on them and locked eyes with me, his gaze warm and sincere. "Now that you've signed the NDA, I can tell you about the offer," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of anticipation. My heart hammered in my chest, and I could feel the nervous energy building inside me as I awaited his next words. "Long story short: I want you to become my baby for a month," he stated, the words hanging in the air between us like an electric charge. My mind reeled at the unexpectedness of his proposition, and I struggled to comprehend the full implications of what he was suggesting.

Hi everyone! New S&P story here! We've been working on this story for a long time and it has been posted chapter by chapter on our Patreon. Now that we're done, we want to share it with the rest of the world. In particular, thank you to our wonderful friend Cam (@CamCuddleCareBytes) for commissioning such an amazing piece. We couldn't have done it without him! If you would like to support us in writing more stories, please check out our Patreon! The complete PDF and ePub of Settling In is on there as well, if you're an impatient little tyke. Please Like and Comment! We love hearing from our readers. And as always, thank you! ~Sophie --------------------------------------------------- Disclaimers: bedwetting, manipulation, spanking, regression, hypnosis, diapers, wetting, messing, roman numerals --------------------------------------------------- Settling In By Sophie & Pudding *Commissioned by Cam Chapter I I played with my fingers in my lap and looked down at my nice shoes - shiny, with three inch heels. I had to get this job. I didn't have a choice anymore. Samantha and I couldn't make rent and I couldn't work anywhere else. After my last job - an administrator in a computer repair office - no one would hire me. This city wasn't that big, and word got around quickly. Even McDonalds had turned me down. How I had even gotten an interview here was beyond me. The man walked in and sat down at the desk and I did my best to sit up straight, looking as professional as possible. Our interview had been going on for over an hour already... "So what do you think?" Cora asked her husband. He read through her file. "Natalie Anderson. She seems flexible." "She would have to be at this point. She hasn't had a job in three months. She's desperate." "Desperate works in our favor." "Is that a yes?" "I think it's worth a try." Cora clapped her hands and smiled at the screen, at the video feed of the nervous girl shifting in her chair. Two minutes later, her husband appeared on the screen and sat down in the chair behind the desk, across from her. "Miss Anderson, I'm afraid that there's been some complications with your background check." Not that she'd consented for one, or that one had even been done - but in a town this size, a background check was really nothing more than calling around and asking questions for a few minutes. From Natalie’s point of view, that had to have been where the man had been for the past few minutes. "Now now, don't panic, that doesn't make you inadmissible to our work program here, not automatically. There are some more strings I can pull and palms I can grease, but you're going to have to impress me here." Background check. I knew what that meant. My heart sank and I looked down at my feet. Should I try to explain myself? Did I have a choice? "I know what you've heard," I said quietly, without eye contact. "I... I know my boss at my old job was married, and what I did was awful, and I hate what happened. I would absolutely never let it happen again. I would never disrupt your company like that or put anyone's reputation in jeopardy. I promise to work hard here. I promise to do everything I can so you don't regret hiring me. If... if you hire me, I mean..." My confident attitude had completely fallen apart. "Natalie - may I call you Natalie? What is your understanding of what will be required in this role?" They'd already talked about it before, and at length, but this time it was going to be different - this time, the man was going to outline what her responsibilities would be. Not just the responsibilities of the role itself, but of her if she accepted the role. "Um. I... I would manage the customer service branch. I know that has like eight people, right? So it's a small office! I have plenty of experience in office management, too. So it will be no problem. And I would report directly to you. Tasks would be things like... keeping you informed, keeping the staff on task, making sure everything you need done gets done. And of course, keeping quality customer service." I was proud of my answer. I was a very good worker, and I played into my strengths. "Very good, Natalie. If - and I do stress the if - I were to extend this role do you, quite evidently I'd have to appease both the insecurities of my wife, and the doubts of myself. The only way I could extend this offer to you, therefore, would be for you to take a greatly reduced salary, and provision you room and board at our Vineyard in lieu. This way, our family - and this is a family business - can keep a close eye on you at all times and ensure that you're not falling back into your more... destructive, habits." I blinked and looked up at the man in surprise. He... he wanted me to live in his house? I thought about Samantha, my roommate, and looked down at my feet. "I... I would love to. It seems like a very generous offer. I just... I can't do that. My roommate depends on me to help with rent and I couldn't just leave her like that, not after she's stuck with me for so long." Fuck... "I'm sure we can find a position for her about the house. She depends on you to help with rent, you said? Then perhaps her conditions could improve further. You would work in the consumer division, and Samatha could help around the estate. At any time, either or both of you will be free to leave, but your employment is contingent on this condition." That he'd offered something so compelling, so drastic, so out of the ordinary, without even a second thought... well, there was a lot of confidence there. Sam really didn't like her job. She cleaned houses, actually. Working for an estate would probably be right up her alley. And she would have to pay a lot less in bills. Hmm... "Alright... well, I will talk to her? And if she agrees, I will do anything to put your wife's concerns at ease!" "I hope you remember those words, Natalie. We're taking a big risk on you here, and I do want you to understand that this is not charity, or pity. This an opportunity for atonement, which is something we all believe in here at Grand National. But you'll be expected to listen to directions, both in and out of the workplace, and there'll be very little tolerance for messing up. Understand?" "Yes, sir. I understand completely." I left the office with a phone number on the back of a business card. I sat in my car and sighed, tilting my head back. Would Sam want to do this? What if she didn't? I wasn't making rent... if I couldn't get this job, she'd have to find a new roommate anyway. I put my hands over my face and took a deep breath. Okay. Only thing now was to talk to my best friend. "So hold up. What's the rent going to be? It's kinda far for me to travel to work… wait wait, what was the rent?" Sam thought her friend had said 'free', but that couldn't possibly be the case. That just didn't happen. Not without a catch. "Well, I think he wants to offer you a position at the estate? Probably cleaning or something, which you already do anyway. And room and board are included." I never understood that phrase: room and board. What was the board? Maybe the board wasn't included... "You could save money, and we could still live together. Technically." We would share a very, very big house with many people. I'd googled the house at the Vineyard on my phone. Eighteen rooms. "But it's like, an hour and a half away." "It's a ways away for sure." Sam had thought about that kind of distance before, when they were looking for a new place to live that was cheaper, but the math never worked out. "But If I live where I work, I don't even need a car, Nat. I'd have like no bills except for my cellphone. We should do it." I gave her a careful look and crossed my arms. "Are you sure? I don't want to accept the job and then have you change your mind..." "I'm sure," she said simply. Sam was a simple girl. That's why we were best friends. "Why does he want you to move in, again?" "Because his wife thinks I'm going to fuck him or something," I pouted. "Seriously, you sleep with one boss and no one trusts you..." "They do know that the boss you slept with was like your age right? These people own an estate! Are you gonna seduce grandpappy with a Werther’s original?" Sam thought she was a lot funnier than she was. "Anyway, when we do we move? We probably need a few weeks to pack." But they were moving into someone else’s house - what would they actually be bringing? "I dunno," I said more to myself than to Sam. "I guess I'll go make a phone call and get all this started." One day had so cataclysmically changed my life. But I didn't know the half of it. * * * * * My first day of work was the following Monday. I'd spent the weekend moving my belongings into the estate, but we had to rent a storage locker for most of our furniture. The place was huge. I mean, really, really huge. Not like a mansion you see on TV, but way bigger than anything I'd ever seen in real life. Sam was enamored. I was overwhelmed. We used a service entrance on the side of the house to bring in our boxes, which let out into a kitchen. Some people in nice clothes were helping us unpack the truck, but I hadn't caught anyone's name. "You must be Natalie," a woman said, talking over the heavy footsteps and shuffling of boxes. She had a gorgeous red blouse on and her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She put out her hand to shake mine. "Um. Yes. Nice to meet you, uh..." "Cora. No title necessary, titles are for books and mistresses, and I am neither." Cora laughed the way rich people on television laughed; she was bright and sunny, hiding her mouth behind her hand - a gesture that wouldn't have looked out of place paired with a little paper oriental fan. "It's going to be so nice to have you around the house, Natalie. I can't wait to get all that unpleasantness and rumors behind you. And you must be Sam - oh you're going to look smashing in the house uniform." Cora accentuated this fact by literally turning to one of the maids, putting her hand up the back of her skirt, and pinching her ass. ...well, she was... forward. The maid looked nervously at the two of us, then walked away to fetch more boxes. "Um... yeah... I swear, you have nothing to worry about with me. What happened was strictly a one-time thing. Trust me." "I don't trust you," Cora said simply, with a smile, in a tone I had never heard utter those words. She was bright and happy. I didn't understand her at all. "The help will take care of the boxes - come, I'll show you your rooms." I looked sideways at Sam and shrugged my shoulders.

Baby Luvs is a remake of an incomplete story from 2004 by seventyeyez: "Jackie and Leona". It left a lasting impression on @daddyeric91, who commissioned us to write this new version while offering ideas along the way. It took a lot of time, a lot of work, but we finally finished it! Like and Comment! Also, a full PDF and ePub of Baby Luvs is available on our Patreon. Please consider supporting us! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Baby Luvs By Sophie & Pudding Chapter One: “Alright Baby, now do ‘I Want This!’ crossed with ‘I know I Was Bad’.” Which, to anybody else, was a pretty weird thing to say. When it came to working with Baby Luvs - known by Leona Whittaker on her days off - it was just the norm to hear. Leona pulled the perfect face, tugging up on the hem of her dress, flashing a little of the top hem of her diaper as though it were exotic lingerie. And I guess in a lot of ways, and to a lot of people, it might as well have been. I didn't get it, but my wallet sure did. My manager barked orders and I did as I was told. This job had kept me afloat. There was a new face behind the camera, but I didn't have time to wonder about that. People came and went all the time around here. I sat squarely on my padded butt and bunched the dress up in my arms, so I could show off my pouty lips and the front of the diaper at the same time. “Baby's a natural, a natural I tell you!” I nodded, as though I was paying attention to Abe Scott’s gushing, and snapped a few more photos. He chewed on his cigar butt the way that Leona chewed on her pacifier, the way I chewed on pen lids when developing photos. “Alright that's just about the roll filled, I have one or two more shots before the film's in the dead-zone - anything specific?” “Already? Already, that can't be right, that can't be right at all. Look at Baby Luvs here, she's still adorable, still in top form!” “Look, Mr. Scott,” “Abe, call me Abe, nobody but Captain Kirk says Mr. Scott,” he corrected me, probably trying to be funny. He wasn't. “Alright Abe, I can do a new roll, but it'll be another charge.” “You know you should be excited about the job, Jackie, about the job and the love and the passion. Photographers in it for the money are a diamond dozen.” “Oh, I'm sorry Abe, I didn't take you for such a philanthropist.” I narrowed my eyes, “In God we trust, everybody else pays.” “Fine fine, wind it up, I don't care, MELISSA! Pay the woman, make sure she's paid.” The light in the corner turned off and I climbed up to my feet, brushing off the front of my dress and looking down at the nursery set I'd grown very familiar with. I'd been doing this for almost two years, but I'd amassed a huge following online. My website - or "our website" as Abe liked to say - got thousands of hits every hour. All in all, it wasn't a bad job. And if I didn't have the body for it... “Baby,” Abe hollered from across the room. “My office, five minutes!” ~~~ “Baby Luvs, you're a star, a sensation, you're who every college co-ed wants to be and who every overly paid businessman wants to be responsible for. You're hot, hot in the way that burners are hot on the stove, hot in a you can't touch it, but it's useful all the same, way.” He swung about in his chair, pulled some paperwork out from the desk, and set it down on the rich mahogany surface. “But Baby Luvs, it's not enough, it's an illusion Baby, an illusion, and we're going to change that, Baby Luvs, yes we are, you and me sweetheart.” Abe always called me Baby rather than Leona. I'd gotten used to it. And I knew what this was about. “I'm not pissing myself, Abe. I'm not actually into any of this stuff, you know that.” But I had the aesthetic. I had the body. I had the fans. And damn if it didn't make me good money. “Baby please, you're missing the bigger picture here, you're not seeing the forest through the bees!” Abe Scott was notoriously loose when it came to the rules of language. He pulled the flask from his coat and took a long sip, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “Baby Luvs is a fiction. Like you said you're not into this, you're an actress, a doll, a model of a fantasy, but a fantasy,” Which had always been the understanding. “It's not enough, Baby, we're losing Johns, signups are down, activity is down, there's a hundred thousand girls out there blobbing up a storm on their bumblers and hipstergrams, living the life, and we're missing the gravyboat, Baby, we're missing it as it sails by.” The gist: we could be doing better. Honestly, no one could follow Abe sometimes when he babbled like that. But I'd learned the trick: pay attention to the last thing he says. We're missing the boat. “What are you suggesting?” We'd had this argument a thousand times, but he wasn't the one that had to wet a diaper on camera! “We're going to one-up them, Baby, one-up them like a horny Italian plumber bashing bricks with his little head, that's what we're going to do.” Smugly, he sucked on the tip of his cigar and tossed a file across the table with the words The Real Baby Luvs printed on it. “A documentary, Baby, a week in the life of The Real Baby Luvs, a real life adult baby, in the flesh, that's what we're gonna do.” A film? We'd done shorts for the website, but an entire week-long movie? There's no way I could keep it together for that long. And there was always the bigger problem: I wasn't an actual adult baby. “I told you, Abe. I'm not into it.” “But you sure can act.” I crossed my arms over the little dolly dress, still wearing only a diaper beneath my waist. I'd become so used to them on-set I never bothered to change until I went home. “And I have to wet, is what you're saying?” The answer was already no. “Baby of course you do but that's not important, that's not the bigger picture.” The bigger picture was this: “You name your price. 168 hours of full time Baby Luvs, you'll have a film crew and a minder. Nothing private Baby, nothing private. You name your price. Because I know you have one, everybody does.” I shifted nervously, crinkling as I moved, and looked down at my little cotton booties. Hm... I picked up the pen on his desk and clicked it, then wrote something down on a scrap of paper. I handed it to him with a blush on my cheeks and he smiled up at me bright and wide. “Then we got ourselves a deal.” Well, I thought, at least I'd be experiencing something new. The figure was large but the payoff was larger; a documentary, sold in a seven parts, and then exclusive access to behind the scenes clips, photos taken during the time, little sound clips; the outfits she wore during the time and the residual notion that she wasn't just an actress: the number was large, but Abe knew he'd make back an order of magnitude more. “Wait outside, Baby, I'll be out in a moment.” I went over to the water cooler and poured myself a small paper cup of water. I took one sip and looked down into the tiny cup. The water rippled and bounced where I'd moved it with my lips. I never understood what a luxury it was to use the bathroom - it's one of those things people overlook. But sooner or later - probably sooner - anything I drank would be soaked up by the diaper between my legs. Suddenly, I wasn't so thirsty anymore… “Is he always like that?” I hazarded to ask Leona while I waited for my check, although she seemed lost in thought for a moment - staring into the water like it was a mirror and she was admiring herself. I was admiring her, too - not really the diaper or baby getup, that was just a workplace hazard, but she was very attractive! Not a smidgen over 5'1, her hair was short and blonde and her eyes were the color of emeralds. God that body, though. Damn! “Huh?” Who was she? A new girl? Oh, the one that was taking the pictures earlier; I recognized her off-red hair color. Gosh, she looked taller up close... “You mean Abe? Yeah, he's got a few screws loose, if you want my opinion. But far be it from me to question him. He's got good business sense.” My tone and my words were are all so contrary to my attire, but I barely even noticed. Wow it was weird to hear her talking like an adult! During the shoot, she'd just been coy and playful, barely spoke a word, it honestly caught me off-guard a little bit. “Yeah he pays well - my last gig paid like a tenth of what I get here. He's talked about this other project, too? Something about a documentary, he wants me to take photos freestyle or something.” Honestly it was hard to follow what he said, but I did follow just how much he'd offered to pay me. “You like it here, Leona?” “It's a job.” Did I like dressing up in diapers every day and crawling around the floor, playing with my toes? Not really. And I knew I'd like this diaper-wetting thing even less. But hey, work was work. “That's always how Abe gets newbies. If this job didn't pay well, we'd have a lot of perverts on set.” So far, no one had been caught masturbating behind a curtain or anything while I was performing. “Anyway, welcome to the team. Enjoy the view of my diapered ass as I walk away.” I threw away the paper cup - full of water - and waved goodbye to the new camera girl. Oh, I didn't even catch her name... I wanted to be smooth about it, tell her that her ass was nice, even with the diaper. Even with? Despite? Hmm. By the time I went over it in my head, I’d missed the chance, so instead I just awkwardly tripped on my words and shouted: “I'm Jacqueline, by the way! But nobody calls me anything but Jackie. So I guess we both have two names.” Yeah, alright, that was lame. Why did I care if she liked me or not, why was I trying so hard? She was just inherently charming in a way I couldn't put my finger on. The next day, Abe called and gave me the day off. I plopped down in front of my television and turned on some stupid horror show I had fallen behind on. Days like this, alone in my apartment, I almost missed the thickness of the diapers between my legs. It felt strange wearing such normal clothes... it felt strange being normal. Baby Luvs had taken over so much of my life in these past few years, I was forgetting who Leona Whittaker was. But I had to push the thought from my head: tomorrow, I'd be Baby Luvs for a full week, and I could have my existential crisis afterward. Until then, Leona Whittaker didn't exist. I liked to develop photos in house - I had a dark room, and I did a better job than any of the commercially available places did nowadays; it was like a zen meditation experience for me, usually. Usually. A girl in diapers, with a pacifier, with a bonnet and a bib, an adult girl in the guise of a child, her eighteen different smiles each unique and beautiful, and shining back even in the dark red hue of the lighting. This was why I liked photographing furniture; the chairs never made my stomach sink into the soles of my feet. Get it together, Jackie; it's just a job. Little did I know, that job that would change dramatically, come tomorrow.