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  1. I apologize in advance, you're in for a heck of a read. When I finished part one, I found that I had typed 11 pages! Yes, 11 pages in 12pt font in a text editor! Yikes. Please enjoy, I'm hoping to make two future chapters (assuming I don't hit burnout) Or at very least, some illustrations of the project. Based on the story "Diapered Gals" by Lady Daisy on Literotica. The inspiration to write a story like this is based on my personal DL (diaper lover) lifestyle. For me, diapers aren't a sexual outlet, but a lot of online stories go straight in that direction. I also enjoy seeing stories that don't evolve AB's (adult babies) as that too isn't part of my lifestyle. Enough about that- Enjoy! T oday was the day. I was moving house, from a small apartment on the west end to a house of my own in a quiet unassuming suburb. Michelle, one of my best friends, was at the apartment with me packing up the last of my things into her car, while I made the last checks around the empty building. "Bedroom? Check. Kitchen? Check. Bathroom? Check." "Who are you talking to?" Michelle's soft voice piped from the doorway, as she entered and looked at me walking about in circles. Michelle was a complete sweetheart of a best friend, average height and build with adorable dimples on each of her rosy cheeks. Her short brown hair was tied back into a small ponytail to keep out of her equally brown eyes while we packed, and like myself, was dressed casually in jeans and a black graphic tee. "Well?" She said, as clearly I didn't respond quickly enough to her; lost in my own little world. "If we don't get going soon Andrea, we're never going to get everything unloaded by nightfall!" She was right of course, as it was already one in the afternoon and we had about an hour's drive ahead of us. I gave her a knowing nod before playfully motioning her out the door as I walked after her. "Yeah, lets hit the road before I regret this whole moving idea, and all the work that goes into it." I said, locking the apartment behind me and heading towards my own car, which was equally full, if not a bit smaller than hers. I looked back one last time with a knowing smile that this look at my old apartment would be my last. Michelle climbed into her SUV, the main reason I had asked her to help, as I got into my tiny red sedan. I adjusted the mirror, ensuring that she was ready to follow, before revving up the engine and heading onto the city streets. I was ready to start my new life somewhere a little more comfortable. *** It was about a half hour into our drive, and the roads had opened up considerably. Where we started driving through crowded streets, we now found ourselves traversing an open highway where there was open space for miles around. Few other cars and trucks dotted the landscape, the occasional person passing on this non-divided highway, but nothing to be excited about. They had their destination, and I had mine. That was, until it hit me. Out of the blue, a black sports car drove straight for me, straight across the yellow line into my lane. I looked in horror, as there was nothing I could do before the driver plowed straight into my car. I braced for impact as our two cars spun straight across the other lane, off the highway. When we hit the trees, everything went black. *** A beeping, quiet at first, but nagging and annoying is the next thing I could process. I felt like everything around me was in a haze, like I was looking through a fogged over window. Instinctively I pulled my hand up to my head, feeling as though I was dragging a cord behind it. "She's awake!" A mystery voice proclaimed. It wasn't Michelle's, in fact it wasn't feminine at all. As my vision started to focus, I saw where I was. In front of me stood a young hospital nurse, dressed in blue scrubs with cute black and blue polka-dot pants and matching bandana atop his head. He was a tall black man, a bit on the heavier side, with dark eyes that looked like deep blue pools of water. He smiled at me as my eyes focused on him, and this time he addressed me personally. "Good morning Miss Verblau, it's good to see you awake. I'm Dave. Do you know where you are?" He asked before taking a small flashlight from his pocket and checking on my eyes. I shook my head at him and he spoke up again. "I'm not surprised, you were in quite a wreck yesterday. You were admitted to Sacred Heart Hospital yesterday afternoon, do you remember anything from your past? Your name perhaps?" As soon as he finished his sentence, he looked over his paperwork, and everything I couldn't explain suddenly made sense. I must have blacked out when that car hit me! But what of Michelle? She was driving behind me, was she okay? And my car, loaded full of half my life, where was it? I looked back up at him inquisitively and spoke up. "I...have a lot of questions." I said, plainly and simply. He looked down at me knowingly, like this is a statement he had had often before. "Your friend Michelle, the one who phoned in the accident is in the waiting area. Now that you're awake and out of intensive care, I'll get her back in here and we'll do an evaluation. It's sometimes best to have a friendly face to jog a patient's memory." I nodded at him before he could even finish his sentence, and Dave quickly left the room. While he stepped out, I had a better look at my surroundings. It was a traditional hospital room in most ways. The walls were painted a sky blue, with the usual hospital materials littered about the walls. The bed was also a soft blue color, the warm blankets wrapped over my lower body, and what looked to be an iv drip alongside the bed. I could assume it was antibiotics and saline, as well as few other monitors hooked up for my heart rate and oxygen levels. For now, I was in a room by myself, which considering I was unconscious, was likely not abnormal. No sooner did Dave leave and he was back with Michelle at his side. She looked relieved, and not worse for wear. It appears that if she was involved in the accident, she was out unscathed. She smiled widely at me in relief, as though she expected me to not yet be awake. Dave quickly took his assessment, then took his leave after bringing Michelle in, and I struggled to find the words. "How are you feeling?" Michelle asked first. She saw my struggle to say much of anything, and like always, knew exactly what to do. "I....I'm fine." I stammered, taking a deep breath from the oxygen tubes in my nose. "My car, the other car-" I didn't get far into the next sentence before Michelle took my hand in hers and calmed me. "It's going to be okay." She said with a relaxed smile, before continuing her explanation. "The damage is bad, and your car will be totaled, but right now it's in a junking lot until you're better. All your stuff is safe. As for the other car..." Her voice trailed off as she started the second part of her tale, starting the next sentence more sternly and solemnly. "The other driver is dead. No official word yet, but the officers said he looked like he was potentially on some pretty strong drugs." "Dead..." My voice trailed off a bit. I felt terrible for what happened, even if it wasn't my fault. I was the lucky one; I would be able to go home soon. All things considered, my body felt fine and I didn't feel any indicators of broken bones. Though I did have a few itchy bandages, one on my leg which felt saturated. I put aside my concerns about the other driver and pulled up the blankets briefly to look at the damage, but quickly fluffed them back down and turned a few shades of red. Michelle immediately recognized my discomfort. "Was it something I said?" She asked, though she pointedly looked down at the blankets that I had pulled tighter around myself. I refused to let her see what I had just seen, but perhaps the nurse from before could shed some light on the situation. "Michelle?" I asked, "Would you mind getting the nurse back here?" She didn't wait for a moment before stepping out of the room to find Dave, or one of the other nurses of the floor. While I was alone again, I pulled up the blankets to get a better look at what I thought I saw. I know that when in the hospital, patents are generally removed from their personal clothing, and given hospital gowns and shoes for the duration of their stay. However, usually in a situation like this, patients either have no undergarments or some sort of cath. That was not the case. These undergarments were far too purple for my tastes. Before I could think on it a moment more, Dave's voice returned to my ears, the nurse closing the door behind him, leaving Michelle in the halls while I spoke to him privately. "Andrea, I see you're in a bit of discomfort." He picks up the clipboard on my bed as he continues explaining the situation, reading over the clipboard for any additional details. "In the accident, you were mildly injured. I know you don't feel it, but you've suffered minor whiplash and damage to a few of your vertebra. Now, fortunately we've been able to pin the damaged vertebra back together, but the nerve damage isn't something we can reverse. We're assuming from a medical standpoint that it will recover, but it will take awhile as well. The bleeding has been controlled, and you have a few stitches from the initial incision-" "So what I'm wearing..." I interrupted, Dave responding in kind. "Ah, you're more interested in that. What you're wearing is a medical diaper. Molicare Super Plus if you'd like me to be exact with the branding. The nerve damage means that you have temporarily have spasms all through your lower body, including your bladder, hence the diaper. We discussed different options, but this is the least invasive method due to its temporary nature. When feeling and sensitivity comes back in those areas, you can retrain your body to become continent again, which according to patients that have gone through similar cases, is not as complicated as you may believe." I didn't respond to that. All I could do was look down over myself. I looked fine. I looked normal. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that I was laying in a hospital bed in a hospital gown, it didn't look like anything was wrong with me. Most importantly, I felt perfectly fine, other than the fact that I was in a hospital wearing a gown and a diaper. The reality of what had happened to me had just started to hit home. I didn't cry, nor scream, nor run out of the room, even though everything in my being wanted me to. Instead, all I could do was look back up at Dave and ask one simple question. "Dave? How long until I can go home?" I plainly asked. Somehow, I felt like leaving this hospital would put everything behind me. "Well," Dave responded, as though he seemed like he didn't want to give an exact date or time without a doctor by his side. "I'll have to check with the staff, but you'll be free to leave almost any time. The only thing of importance is that with the grafted bones in your spine, you should avoid staircases for awhile, and we'll only be able to send you home with a few basics, so we'll give you a short list of medical items to purchase before you leave, or on your way out. Is there anything else I can help you with?" I shook my head. There was in fact one more thing on my mind, but Dave was a nice young man, and I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him. I didn't know the first thing about diapers, and quite frankly, didn't want to ask. But as he left, I wish that I had. It was an unfamiliar sensation, a bit of a strange uncontrollable tingle, like the sensation that your foot makes when its asleep. But at the same time, it was kind of numb; likely from the aforementioned nerve damage. I had no control over the sensation, nor the experience that was to follow. I felt my body completely let go and pee at full force. My vagina was entirely soaked in a warm rush of urine, which thanks to gravity, rushed into any space it could find down my buttocks. It was there that I felt the liquid pool inside the diaper between its fibrous insides and my soft skin, before quickly being wicked away into its filling. Soon, all that I was left with was a warm, damp sensation, much like a hot towel, caressing my backside. Much to my relief, the diaper did its job and my hospital gown and bedding were dry. I was relieved, and it wasn't as horrific as I had expected, though maybe part of it was due to the fact that half my sensation was temporarily gone from the area. Moments after Dave left, Michelle returned. "The doctors told me they're going to clear you to leave soon." She said, a smile upon her face at the very thought. "Yeah," I responded. "I'd like to be out of here and recovering in my own bed quite frankly." Michelle looked a bit concerned and pressed her finger against her lip before responding. "Err...Well Andrea...I'm not sure if you remember, I mean it all really did happen fast, we were moving you across the state. There isn't really a bed for you to go home and relax in." I had forgotten! The move! My whole life was packed up in those two cars, and I didn't have anything unpacked in the new place yet. Then again, most of my things were also inside my impounded car. If I was recommended not to use stairs, I'm sure I would also be recommended not to life heavy objects. Clearly my expression spoke for me, as Michelle piped up again, a smile back on her face. "But you know," Michelle began, with a familiar smile. I knew that expression; it meant she already had everything figured out. "I have the office with the spare bed where my sister stays between semesters in college. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you borrowed it until you got back on your feet." "I would really appreciate it." I smiled back, looking up at Michelle and saying the next thought on my mind with renewed energy. "When are we leaving?" "I'll get it figured out with the doctors, but not until tomorrow at least. I didn't empty the car yet, and I'll need to do a quick cleanup on the office before moving you in. I'll see you tomorrow, as soon as I can." She waved at me, and I waved back as she scurried out of the room. If I remember anything about the office from the last time I visited, the office desk and nearby tables were usually littered with coffee cups and empty takeout trays. Best friend or not, Michelle wasn't really the neatest person. It wasn't long after she left that another guest came to my room, closing the door behind them as they entered. Damn, I see why patients in hospitals never sleep! This time it was a woman. A long black-haired woman of what I believed to be some kind of Asian descent. Her eyes were narrow, with decorative black and green makeup, matching her shining green eyes. She too was dressed in traditional scrubs, a plain pink top and argyle pink, black, and white pants. She was of average height, I could tell by her height relation to the sanitizer and latex gloves she put on before approaching me. She approached me and opened a drawer at my bedside before speaking to me. "Hello Andrea, I'm nurse Sabrina. I know Dave was just here, but because you're female, I've been sent to get you cleaned up a bit. Have you been comfortable?" She asked me with a smile similar to a motherly figure. I nodded my head in both understanding and agreement as I looked down to get a glimpse inside the drawer. From where I lay, all I could see was a stack of purple diapers in the drawer, and nothing else. I sighed as I had a feeling where this was going. "I assure you Andrea, I plan to make this as quick and comfortable as possible, and not in the least bit embarrassing, okay? Remember, I'm a medical professional, and my job is to make sure you leave here healthy and infection free, not cause you unneeded embarrassment." I nodded again at her as she pulled closed the curtain around the bed. Even though I was in a private room, it was another level of privacy. She pulled the blankets off to the side and pulled my hospital gown up, leaving my half-naked body exposed, wearing nothing but gray hospital issued socks and a soggy purple diaper. She looked over it for a moment, though at the time, I wasn't sure quite at what. She returned to the drawer for a moment, pulling out a few supplies and setting them aside. The first appeared to be some form of body powder, I didn't recognize the brand. The second was a large jar of Balmex, which I could tell immediately from the smell. I never liked that smell. The third was a large package of adult wipes, and finally she set out a clean Molicare diaper. Like an expert, she popped the four tapes open and carefully rolled me onto my side. She lifted one leg using her shoulder and wiped my buttocks and privates completely clean. The wipes were a bit chill, but the clean sensation felt nice over my half-numb body. She then opened up the jar and applied a healthy layer of Balmex to my skin, followed by a light powdering. She then expertly lay down the diaper and gently rolled my bare body back onto it, snuggly wrapping the diaper along my hips, taping it back shut. All in all, it really was like getting cleaned after a refreshing bath. "There." She said, smiling at me as she was proud of her work. She nimbly rolled up the used items and tossed them in the biohazard bin near the door, putting the diapering supplies back into the drawer before throwing the gloves away. "Thanks." I said, uncertain of what reaction most people gave the men and women who changed diapers for others. The last time I had worn diapers I couldn't have been older than two, and certainly I didn't thank anyone then. She smiled back at me in response. "Of course, it's all to keep you comfortable and from developing any kind of infections. If you have any questions, or you think you need another cleanup before myself or one of my coworkers comes, just call, okay?" I nodded and thanked her again as she took her leave. I looked over at the clock, and though it was early in the afternoon, I had nothing better to do but close my eyes and return to sleep. * * * The day had arrived. Two days after the accident, the hospital had cleared me to go home. I was given my own clothes back, but I wore of Michelle's old college lounge pants. Unfortunately my jeans were far too tight to fit much less hide the shape of the diapers I was now wearing, so I had them stuffed into a bag. At least once I got back to Michelle's, I could just wear pajama pants without question. Dave had me set up in a wheelchair, standard hospital procedure for discharge patients. He had rolled the of us down into the main room, where we waited for Michelle on the other side of a large glass window. The hotel always had a very classy waiting room, spacious and surrounded on two sides with massive glass windows. The floor was a sparkling black tile with white flecks, and the furniture matched that. Black countertops and table tops for the reception area, and navy blue padded couches in the waiting areas. We needn't wait long before I pointed out Michelle's SUV. Like I assumed, the SUV looked just as perfect as when we had left my old apartment. It looked as though Michelle cleared out some of my boxes, which she likely stored in her garage. She stepped out of the car as Dave pushed me out to meet her. The three of us politely said our goodbyes and thank yous, and off we went. Fortunately, Michelle lived near the hospital and, much to my relief, we didn't need to take any major highways. We didn't talk much on the ride; she had nothing to say, and I didn't mind the silent trip for once. It wasn't more than a half hour before her little blue house came into view. Michelle lived in a small middle-class neighborhood in a semi-rural subdivision. Like many of the homes in the area, they're small little one floor homes. We always assumed the entire subdivision was made up of small pre-fabricated homes, but over the past fifty years, some were demolished, others renovated, and others left perfectly as is. Michelle lived in one of the updated ones, where the size of the home was still the same, but everything on the outside and inside was updated into the modern generation. She pulled into the driveway of the little house, parking just outside her garage. The garden full of ornate copper sculptures and well-trimmed bushes, coupled with freshly mowed grass like a traditional well-kept suburban home. She opened up the car door and helped me to my feet, leading me up the short cement walk into the front door. The home was cleaner than I remembered seeing it last. Michelle must have worked night and day to get it back to this level. Like I said before, she's known to be quite a bit of a slob. Her living room was relatively neat, save for the piles of pillows and blankets that covered her favorite easy chair. The mossy green carpet was free of stains and complimented the warm brown walls. I walked past the couch and coffee table as Michelle led me down the hall to the left. She stepped ahead of me before stopping and pushing open the door to one of the rooms. "Well, this is the place! What do you think?" She said excitedly as she stepped back and gave me space to look over the room. The office was nicely renovated from a bedroom into a small spare room and office hybrid. The walls were a nice shade of mint green, complimenting the dark green carpet, and dark brown blackout-shade curtains covering the large single window. To the right of the room sat a black computer desk, complete with desktop and printer, also well cleaned, though the ringed stains of coffee mugs were distinctly burned into the tabletop forever. To the left was the twin sized bed and nightstand, a matching black coloration with another shade of green on its leaf printed comforter. Everything seemed pretty normal until I continued looking around the room and spotted the dresser to my direct left. On top of it sat an open case of diapers, with a variety of creams, powders, and wipes by brands I had never heard of before. Clearly, Michelle had done her homework before I got here. "It's wonderful Michelle, you've more than outdone yourself." I told her, smiling as I turned around and gave her a hug. She smiled back at me, squeezing me tightly for a moment before letting go. "I'll go get the two boxes of clothes I put in the garage, okay?" I nodded in agreement and sat myself down on the bed as she left. I kicked back and relaxed for a moment as she brought the boxes inside. As before, I thanked Michelle for her help as she plopped them down. "Really, it isn't any trouble." She said. "I know if it was the other way around, you'd do the same for me." She was right of course; if she was in an accident, I'd more than happily house her until she could get back on her feet "In that case." I began, "Would you mind handing me some of my clothes? The doctors didn't want me lifting or bending like that with my damaged spine. You know, the whole lack of pain sensitivity thing." "Stay where you are!" She said, nearly interrupting me with her enthusiasm. "I've got you covered, I'll pass em up." She finished as she kneeled on the floor alongside me, opening up the boxes, and handing out shirts, one by one. Around then, it hit me again. I hadn't thought about it much since I completely voided my bladder at the hospital, but suddenly I felt the urge to pee. It came on quickly, and I realized the sensation, but by the time I did it was too late. There was no way in hell I would have been able to make it to a toilet in time, much less stop myself. Every effort I tried to slow or stop the stream did nothing. It rushed out quickly like a faucet, dousing my entire diaper in warm water. The warmth spread from between my legs up the front and back as it pooled inside my diaper. But then the unthinkable happened. I started to feel the warm liquid stream down one of my legs. I looked down in horror and was completely mortified. It wasn't bad enough that I was wetting my pants without realizing it, nor was it bad enough that I was wearing a diaper to keep others from knowing I was wetting my pants, but the diaper leaaked and now my urine was making a dark spot on the crotch of my pants as well as down the leg. I froze in horror and must have turned a dozen shades darker as I looked down at Michelle. She knew. "Stay right there Andrea, I know what to do." Michelle said, surprisingly calm about the situation as she got up and walked out of the room. How did she know what to do? She acted like this wasn't a first for her. Michelle didn't have kids, and I couldn't think of any ageing family memebers she would have taken care of. Michelle came back into the room with a towel over her arm, and some kind of large navy-blue pad in the other. She lay the pad down on the floor and set the towel underneath me. "Now slowly and carefully...lay down here, okay?" Michelle said, motioning towards the pad as she got back to her feet. She took my hands to help me move and position myself, and I followed her words, the embarrassment stuck to my face as I looked over towards her. I am so so sorry..." I said, looking a bit frustrated at her, but all Michelle did was smile. "It's okay." She assured me. "This isn't my first go around if you haven't guessed." She responded. I didn't completely understand what she meant, but I assumed that maybe there was another friend or family member that had a similar situation in the past. "Did the staff teach you how to properly change yourself? I think that's why it leaked." She asked me extremely plainly and a bit bluntly, though considering the situation that just unfolded, it was quite appropriate. "No," I responded. "Not really anyways. I clearly don't think I have a good handle on it." That was putting it simply. By my flushed cheeks and soaked pants, saying I didn't have a handle on it was a serious understatement. But Michelle didn't pry much farther before taking charge a bit. "In that case, she responded, let me show you how it's done." She stood up for a moment, grabbing an armful of products off the dresser. She carefully peeled off my wet pants, balling them up and throwing them to the side. I turned more shades of red, not because I was exposed around Michelle, she had seen me naked before, but instead because I was laying on her floor in a drenched and leaking diaper. She smiled at me before speaking again. "You don't have to watch if it make you uncomfortable, but I want to do it right for you, okay?" I didn't really know how to respond at the time, though I decided I should watch her to learn how it was done. She carefully peeled open the tabs of the diaper and lifted my legs up to pull the diaper out. My spine didn't seem to mind the motion, so I didn't stop her. She didn't stop there, taking a few wipes and cleaning off all my skin, from my buttocks and vaginal areas, to down my thigh and leg where I had initially leaked. She unfolded a brand new Molicare and slipped it in place where she removed the last diaper from, if not a bit higher. She then used a different set of lotions and powders, as these distinctly smelled of soft cocoa butter, nothing like that strong disgusting Destin from the hospital. Confident of her work, she lay my legs back down, split around the diaper and folded the plastic material over my waist, fastening it much tighter and better fitting than I had. "And that Andrea, is how it's done." She said proudly, and without another word, picked up my balled up pants and the dirty diaper and walked away. She left my laying on her floor in nothing but a diaper, a tee shirt, and a pair of striped socks. I sat up trying to comprehend that as well. It didn't feel right, but also didn't feel wrong. At least, it didn't feel wrong until my uncontrollable bladder felt that it wasn't done with its previous actions, and gave me another warm, yet small squirt into the crotch of my new diaper. Great. I sat up at that point and found a new pair of pants to wear, carefully pulling them on. They didn't fit quite right, but at least I could close the button in the front. Unlike the lounge pants that I had ruined, these pants did nothing to hide the massive bulge I felt between my legs and over my backside. I also couldn't pull these pants any higher, the top lip of my diaper peeking over my pants with no way to push it back in. "We might need to get you some new pants for a little while." I looked back towards the door and saw Michelle leaning against the door frame, shaking her head at me. It was time I asked. "Alright, I'll bite. Michelle, how do you know so much about diapers and how to take care of someone wearing them? I wanted to ask before, but it just kind of caught me completely off guard." I asked her, giving her a curious expression as she walked into the room and sat down on the desk chair. "Well," She began, as though she was about to tell a story. Her voice trailed off and instead of continuing, she unbuttoned her high-waisted pants and worked off her belt. She pulled her shirt upwards slightly to reveal just how high her pants sit on her hips and started to slide her pants off, revealing something that I didn't expect. Instead of the undergarments one would expect to see on a person taking off their pants, Michelle sat in front of me with her pants around her knees and a white diaper with blue tapes around her waist. It sagged very slightly on her hips with a yellow stripe that was starting to turn a distinct shade of blue "It never came up." She continued. "I've been incontinent most of my life, but it's sometimes controllable. I wear swim diapers, and sometimes pull up pants that look like briefs if we're going out somewhere awesome, but if I know I'm not going to be able to reach a bathroom in a reasonable time, diapers it is." She didn't seem in the least bit embarrassed by her predicament and smiles at me. "I don't think any less of you, and I hope you don't think any less of me either." Michelle finished off as she stood back up and started to work her pants back on. Admittedly, I was a bit jealous. She knew just what to wear to make me none the wiser to her diaper wearing. "No! Of course not!" I said quickly as I started to feel better. "Michelle, you're my best friend. What you wear under your clothes doesn't make you any less my friend. And...well, it is super helpful that someone knows how to put one of these on." I patted my backside, indicating the diapers on my hip. "You know what that means, right?" Michelle excitedly asked as she stood back up and took both my hands in hers. A wide smile spread across her face as she pulled me back up onto my own feet. "What?" "It's time to go shopping!" Michelle grinned excitedly and pulled the both of us to the door.
  2. Hi guys. I am a 22 year old male Adult Baby. I like wearing and being babied, and I am really into the sex side of the fetish. One day, on total impulse and also because the selection of fetish videos is unsatisfying after awhile. The other day I decided to tell my girlfriend of 9 months about my little secret.. I was very nervous about doing so. My last ex was somewhat accepting. She never wanted to talk about any aspect of it and made me feel really weird about having this fetish.. like it was a flaw she reluctantly put up with.. when I broke up with her threatened to tell everyone in our circle (we live in a small town) about my fetish. Her exact words were "how dare you break up with me, i accepted your weird ass fetish.. no one else ever will. " Harsh and it cut me deep. Never thought I could trust anyone with my secret again. I wondered for years if she spilled about my secret to everyone and lived in fear and shame of my secret. My anxiety skyrocketed and I lost my job, house and spiraled into deep drug addiction thinking the whole town had made me an outcast and thought I was a weirdo or pervert. She kept close ties with my family so I pushed them away as well, thinking she had likely told them about my secret and they thought of me different. Two years passed and the scars began to heal. I met a great woman who had a son that I took in as my own. She pulled me out of a dark dark addiction to IV Meth and helped me heal. Sex was good and happened daily. We always both got off. She treats me so good that I knew something i couldnt control (like a fetish) would neveer make her love me less and my urges were beginning to take a toll on our relationship. I masturbated alot to AB stuff to get my fix. I decided to ease into it. One day during sex I asked her to baby talk to me. she noticed this got me really aroused (more than usual) and took it further.. she called me her "baby boy" and I decided to take the final step. I crawled into bed with a diaper under my shorts. (Goodnite XLs) because money was tight. To my surprise she was into it because i was. and she now lets me wear during sex. Thats as far as its went so far. She was really interested in the fetish and told me she wished i would have been honest sooner. She said she didnt think it was weird. And would allow it because "you cant help thats what you like." She asked me to show her the porn on the matter so she could partake better and i am wondering if you all had any suggestions about what to show her or what the next step should be?.. I figured no wetting or messing stuff and just roleplay videos as I dont want to scare her off. She doesnt make me feel weird about it like my ex did, she constantly asks if shes doing it right and wants to know how to please me. Just know that there are people out there who will love you enough to accept ANYTHING about you. You simply have to have confidence bringing up your fetish/whatever it is you have because thats YOU and if that isnt good enough for someone than **** them!!! I now could give a ***** if my ex told the whole town, because the one person that matters sees that it makes me happy and that is okay with that. We are also a normal looking couple surprisingly. Since we as a community dont get to see eachother in person that much. Here is a jpg of her and I. I would like to make AB friends around my age. Girls and guys! Please hit me up!!! I dont want her feeling uncomfortable or move too fast for her. Need this forums help and figured this would be a good place to discuss your partners' reactions when you told them. And if you havent, I may be able to help as I have gotten 2 Non ABDL partners to let me partake so far:) I would advise to be careful who you tell. Your dirty laundry can quickly become everyone's comedy in the age of social media.
  3. longer in diapers

    Just had a thought today. I have now been in diapers longer as an adult than when i was a child. Its now over three years since i had to start wearing all of the time. How time flies by, wouldn't change back now to being continent it's too restricting.
  4. Hangover

    Chapter one The first thing Amber was aware of as she woke up was that her head was a little fuzzy. She groaned as she realised that she had too much to drink last night. The next thing she became aware of was that she was not in her bed, but on her friend Samantha’s sofa, and Sam was stood over her looking very pissed off. “Look at what you’ve done,” said Sam. Amber followed Sam’s gaze down to her crotch, and realised that she was lying in a wet patch. She reached under the skirt she was still wearing from the night before and felt that the tights underneath were wet, and clinging to her. “I…I don’t understand,” said Amber as she began to realise what had happened. “Let me clear things up for you then,” said Sam, “You had too much to drink, embarrassed yourself at the party by laying across some old perv’s lap so he could ‘spank’ you, then you came back here with me, because you were worried that your mum would be annoyed if you came home that drunk. You woke up all the neighbours on the way in, and my little brother and sister. Then you collapsed on my sofa and to top it all off, you’ve gone and pissed yourself all over it.” “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed,” said Amber. She wasn’t lying. The rest of it was quite bad, but wetting herself was incredibly humiliating. She’d never had an accident, at least not since being old enough to remember. Holly, a girl at school a few years back had, and she had been teased mercilessly for it, and Amber had joined in with the teasing. One particular comment was coming back to haunt her now. Amber had told Holly that if she still wet her knickers like a baby, she should wear nappies. Amber had thought it funny at the time. She didn’t anymore. “You should be embarrassed, and you will be. You’re my friend, and I’ve tried to warn you not to drink so much when we go out. Anything could happen to you. Luckily for you, my parents are away, so I can teach you a little lesson today.” “Teach me a lesson?” asked Amber. She didn’t like where this was heading. “Yes. You won’t like it, but just in case you get any ideas…” Sam showed Amber a picture on her phone. It showed Amber, lying on the sofa in the school uniform costume she had worn to the party last night. Her face was clearly visible. As if the puddle she was lying in wasn’t telling enough, her knees were up and her legs parted, giving a clear view up her skirt. It was very obvious that she had wet herself. “Are you blackmailing me?” asked Amber. “I guess I am,” said Sam. “I don’t want to send this to anybody. If you do as you’re told, you’re going to have a very embarrassing time, but it won’t leave this house. If you refuse to co-operate, then this goes out to all our friends. Your call.” Amber thought about it, but only briefly. That picture could not get out. She had seen what had happened to Holly, had been part of it, when she had wet herself, and they had all been younger then. She didn’t want everybody knowing her dirty secret. “What do you want me to do?” Amber asked.
  5. Stevie’s Story Part 1 Stevie hated to travel. He hated it because ever since he was a baby his father had insisted that whenever they went anywhere, by car, bus, train or plane; he and later his sister always had to be put into protection for the trip. * He’d tried when he was five to rebel against this unjust rule but, when he’d found himself bare arsed over his daddy’s knee and getting a sound spanking and afterwards still being made to wear diapers and plastic pants over his stinging bottom, he saw the error of arguing against an adult. Even now, though resentment coursed through his thirteen year-old body, he knew better than to defy his father. Just one look from his uncompromising face made sure that he did just as daddy said. His six year-old sister Eva never argued, she just did as she was told and put up with the bulky protection that accompanied them on any journey. His mother supervised they were both wearing the prescribed clothing for any trip as it was simply one of her husband’s golden rules. She understood why he was so insistent on this particular ‘rule’, she didn’t see it as anything but a sensible precaution so was more than happy to go along with his few quirks and foibles, after all, he was a wonderful, generous, loving husband and father. Stevie’s daddy Thomas wasn’t a bad daddy. At forty he was at his peak; six foot two, clear complexion (he was often mistaken for a lot younger), a slim but solid figure of which any athlete would be proud, his brown hair cut short and on top of all that his business was doing well. In many ways he was perfect but it seemed that on this one issue, ‘kids travel’, he was a tyrant and unbending in his insistence on them being fully protected for the journey. It had been something he’d been made to adopt when he was a child, well up into his teens after which his parents announced he was old enough to be well aware of his own toilet needs. He himself had rebelled at the idea of wearing diapers on any journey but was often reduced to being seen as a ‘silly little boy’ when he’d arrive at the destination and realise that he was in fact soaked through; the protection doing its job and saving him from an embarrassing puddle. Indeed, the ‘puddle’ predicament had been what started this generational ruling for overly protective padding. * Steve’s granddaddy, Thomas’s father, had made it a rule after his six year-old ‘big boy’ son had fallen asleep and left a huge puddle on the car seat during a long drive. That damp patch was never really forgiven and to reinforce that memory, the young Thomas had to wear a diaper on any such future outings. It was only when he went off to college that the diapering stopped being insisted upon by his father. However, the long bus trip from home to college had consequences. During the journey Thomas had fallen asleep only to wake up to find he was severely wet. The embarrassment of the spreading damp patch and soaked seat meant there was nothing he could do to hide what had happened. However, at that moment he wished above anything else that he’d listened to his father and taken the precaution of a thick diaper “Just to be on the safe side”. He’d mocked his father’s advice, mocked the very idea of these days (or any other) needing any sort of protection at his age, yet now he was feeling the shame of wet pants and the folly of ridiculing his father’s wise suggestion. His fellow newbie’s to the college had noticed the very discernible damp patch and from that moment on Thomas garnered the nickname of “Peepants”, a sobriquet that followed him throughout his college years. It didn’t help that the first and second night in the dorm he also wet the bed but managed to smuggle the evidence out before his roomie was aware. After that he wore protection every night until he was sure that no more accidents would occur. However, he wet often in those first few months and was glad he could hide the fact by being well protected on a night. He was very embarrassed about what had happened but decided that prevention was more instant than trying to find a cure and knew he’d be more self-conscious if he continued to wet and the nickname was to become engraved in stone. At least if they didn’t know what he did (or didn’t do) he could laugh off their jibes and pretend it had been a one-off experience. However, that embarrassment became such an imprint on his mind he didn’t ever want to be in such a shameful situation again. So deep was his anxiety for wetting in any situation it became an obsession so that when his own children came along they were paying for that fear and humiliation even though they didn’t know it. * Of course young Stevie knew nothing of this and simply resented having to wear such thick diapers. He’d only recently become a teenager so thought that like his peers, he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted. So far his cute looks and blond hair (from his mother’s side of the family) for some reason meant at school he could get away with almost anything, although at home his daddy would see through any deception and his big blue eyes were of no help. If he even looked like he was going to complain his father simply made him wear them for longer. Moaning and whining also produced the same penalty - the wearing of diapers and plastic pants throughout their stay - where ever that may be. The only time the dress code was relaxed was if they went to the beach or to a pool and then bathing costumes were allowed. However, as soon as that finished, or if there had been any whingeing, it was back to re-diapering, in public if there was nowhere else to change. This punishment was available but rarely enforced because over the years both their children had learned the consequences of insubordination. Besides, they weren’t spoilt or naughty little brats constantly in need of chastising; they were, for the most part, well behaved children of which any parent would be proud. Normally, as soon as they reached their destination both were then allowed back into their usual underwear. That was until Stevie got in to a quarrel about the fact that his diaper was too bulky and obvious and everyone knew what he was wearing. Not only did he argue with his mother about its size he shouted and swore at her for making him into a ‘sissy little baby’. This reaction had happened because they’d stopped at a services station on their way to their seaside destination. There were only a couple more hours to go but as both Stevie and Eva had said they urgently needed the bathroom Thomas had pulled onto the forecourt and let them out. Stevie was old enough to be able to sort himself out, whereas Eva needed her mother’s help. Meanwhile, father went and bought a few snacks for the rest of the journey and filled the car up with fuel. His mother was shocked at such an outburst. Although she wasn’t to know that it had been brought about by something another boy had taunted whilst Stevie was visiting the restroom. Although the reason for the protection was to contain any ‘accidents’ the children weren’t made to use them. If they could make it to the bathroom all the better, alas on this particular occasion his protection had been seen and ridiculed. The other boy, who was slightly older than Stevie laughed, pointed and couldn’t wait to tell his friends what he’d just seen. Stevie felt the humiliation grow as he struggled, after he’d peed successfully, to rearrange the obvious bulk in his shorts but as the boy sniggered contemptuously, unfortunately for Stevie that shame transformed into tears. The other boy couldn’t believe his luck and took great delight in teasing and calling him a “Sissy little baby who needed to go poo-poo in his little diapee”. * Alas, Stevie wasn’t equipped to deal with this verbal assault and simply wasn’t a match for such a self-confident bully so all he could do was cry and run from the vicious taunting. However, on his return to his mother, the torment had become too much, so had the exasperation of his situation so, with the bully’s words echoing in his head, he let loose a stream of anger towards her. His sister and mother both looked at Stevie in shock. Never had he used such words and never had he been so disrespectful to his mother, worse though was that his father overheard his vitriolic attack and decided to act there and then. Not caring who was around his daddy grabbed him by the arm and without so much as a word of warning, pulled his son’s shorts and protection down and spanked him hard in public. Amongst others, the young bully and his friends witnessed the spectacle and although part of them felt sorry for the poor guy, another part thought it was what a diaper-wearing cry-baby deserved, they were just thankful they were not on the receiving end of the very hard thrashing. Stevie’s little bottom glowed before his father stopped. Once he did he pulled up his sons diaper but wouldn’t let him have his shorts and told him to get in the car. The spectators, who had witnessed both the boy’s outburst and its consequences, were mumbling support and disgust in equal amounts at what had just happened then moved off and left the family to sort out their own domestic situation. Stevie, wearing only his diaper, sat in the car bawling his eyes out, his father, who had calmed down a bit was trying to appease his wife who thought that the punishment had gone too far. However, Thomas would have none of it and explained that if he didn’t nip such bad behaviour in the bud now, who knew where it could all end. He simply was not prepared to have a son who disrespected his parents, or anyone else for that matter, no, that type of behaviour would not be tolerated. * Stevie had made a bad situation worse and through his tear-stained eyes understood he’d done wrong attacking his mother in front of everybody. However, he thought his father’s response had been very cruel. There was a mixture of feelings running through his body, defiance and sorrow, but it was sorrow that was winning because his bottom stung as he sat trying desperately not to wriggle about in the diaper. Strangely enough, as he did, it was offering some sort of comfort but he just couldn’t stop crying at what he thought had been a gross injustice. Unfortunately for Stevie his timing could not have been worse. They had not been far from their destination and his mother was just about to relieve him and his sister of their diapers in preparation to the start of what was expected to be an enjoyable vacation. Alas, Stevie watched as his sister was changed out of her protection and put into her sweet flowery nylon panties, and all he could do was sit there dressed solely in his diaper feeling angry, humiliated, sore and hard done by. Dejected and humiliated his tears started again as they drove off whilst his constant bleating to his parents that it wasn’t fair that his sister was allowed out of her protection while he, her older brother, had to stay in his, made it more or less certain he would be wearing a diaper for the rest of their trip. His father warned him that if there was any further complaining not only would he be wearing diapers for the rest of the holiday, that’s all he’d be wearing. This news set him off on another round of tears but this time he didn’t voice his distress he just blubbed to himself and tried to hide away from the rest of the family. * That’s difficult when you’re sat in the rear seat of a family car. Eva was sitting next to him proudly wearing her grown-up panties under her dress and she kept looking across at her brother as he struggled to feel comfortable in just his diaper. She tried her best to get her brother to join in a game, or read her a story but he sat grumpily, arms folded and seething. Like the rest of the family Eva was pretty and cute. Indeed when out together the entire family looked like they’d just stepped off the cover of some fashion magazine. Even when they dressed casually they looked the part of models ready to go about their posing and little Eva just set the family package off to a T with her curly blond hair, pixie-like looks and sweet demeanour. However, at that moment at least one of the models was not happy: Stevie didn’t even have plastic pants to try and hide the soft mass that was, despite his anger and frustration, keeping him snug and his bottom away from the firm seat adding to his pain. For a second he plotted some kind of revenge. He thought he’d teach his father a lesson and wet himself on purpose… thus soaking the seat. Well, that was the way his mind was thinking. Sadly, that little scheme wouldn’t work even if he’d had the guts to try it as he’d just emptied his bladder at the gas station. So, even if he could force something out, it would hardly have dampened his diaper never mind leave a mess. He was thwarted and sat squirming around, this action comforted and settled him down, which soon saw him dozing quietly for the remainder of the journey. * When they arrived at the hotel Stevie was in for another surprise, he had wet himself. He wasn’t soaked through but he was undoubtedly wet and that inhibited him from getting out of the car. He was worried what his father would say, he was worried that others would see his drooping diaper and he was totally embarrassed that his father had been correct about him wearing a diaper to avert this type of accident. He simply didn’t want to get out of the car but the threat of another public spanking made him swallow any pride he had and follow the rest of the family into the hotel lobby. His mother had promised that she’d change him as soon as they got to their room but until then, he’d simply have to make do. He dare not look at any of the other vacationers who were milling around the huge hotel foyer. To Stevie there seemed to be hundreds of people, kids and adults, all looking at him and his very droopy diaper. He tried to hide behind his case but, as it was on wheels and too heavy to carry, he had to drag behind him. This offered too good an opportunity to some of the kids who noticed and were noisily indicating the fact to others while laughing at the new arrival. It looked quite bizarre as they booked in and got the key to their room that the little girl was dressed normally but her older brother appeared to be the baby of the family. I’m sure many of the children who witnessed this spectacle had made up their own minds but the adults would have known that the boy in diapers was being punished for some reason. It was true that a few of the parents wondered how effective such a punishment might be and wanted to talk to Stevie’s parents to find out; no doubt thinking that they might use it on their own unruly kids. Little did the boys that were hooting with derision at Stevie know that their own day of reckoning was not that far off. * To be continued
  6. Never More Content - Part 1 Rob had been with Doctor Mark Thompson now for around 19 months. It was a relationship that, at the beginning, neither could have foreseen the outcome. However, Rob has never been happier; his days are now filled with fun, adventure and that rarest of gifts… love. For these last few months he had learned that he didn’t have to fight for everything, he didn’t have to worry about anything and, in fact, he didn’t have to think at all, Daddy would see to his every need. Rob was only 14 when he tried to mug the rich-looking man who was getting out of his BMW. His stomach was empty and he was desperate because for the last few weeks he had been living rough on the streets. He’d had to learn how to survive quickly since he ‘left’ home and he wasn’t doing too well. Opportunities to find food, shelter and safety weren’t as easy to come by as he had hoped they would be. In fact, he hadn’t had a decent meal or a place to stay since he’d slammed the door and swore at that drunken bitch… his mother. Recently, his home life had deteriorated badly, he’d been expelled from school because of his mounting violent streak, he fought against any form of authority, he hated the world and everyone in it and he needed to get OUT. However, living rough was even worse. When he wasn’t being offered drugs, he was the victim of those desperate drug addicts who saw him as an easy target. He carried the cuts and bruises to prove it as he was no match against the rougher element he met. His stomach ached with hunger and he urgently needed to get some money and this smart, swanky, well-to-do guy appeared to have loads. In the past he'd begged for money but people either took no notice, as if he didn’t exist or worse, screamed abuse at him for daring to ask for help. The only way he’d found effective was to threaten, then he was listened to and the sharp 8” blade he now carried certainly got most people’s attention. He waved it at the BMW owner and demanded money but his threat was swiftly countered by a speedy kick from the man that sent the knife spinning through the air and a follow up kick to the would-be mugger’s head that knocked him to the ground. It all happened so fast that Rob didn’t know what hit him until he regained consciousness… then things really began to get weird. Forty year-old Mark Thompson is a man who knows what he wants. He left school and university with an armful of top class awards, flourished quickly in his specialised field and found the demanding intensity of his martial arts programme the perfect way to relax, keep fit and stay alert. In the dark he hadn’t realised the age of his assailant, all he saw was a body rushing towards him and a fleeting glimpse of a steely pointed object being jabbed in his direction. His training took over and in a nanosecond the would-be assassin was dropped to the ground unconscious. As he checked the prone body he realised that the youth lying at his feet was in need of some treatment. He reached down and easily picked up the grubby, thin urchin and carried him to his apartment just a few yards away. The boy was filthy. His clothes were torn and tattered whilst the bruises and cuts on his hands and face made Mark wonder what the poor little guy had been through recently (apart from a kick to the head that is). He got the lad into his home and started to inspect the comatose body now he had light to see just what his injuries were. He removed the lad’s thin jacket and t-shirt and saw that there was a very bad, festering cut on his arm that appeared to have gone untreated for some time. He removed the boy’s trainers and jeans and saw that he was just a mass of bruises and, strangely perhaps, he felt sorry for his would-be mugger. The boy was still out for the count so Mark called a friend of his who was a doctor and asked him to come around and check the boy out. He arrived minutes later from an apartment in the same block just as Mark had finished trying to wipe as much grime away as possible and the lad was beginning to regain consciousness. Although not fully compos mentis Rob realised that something was going on and he was being touched… so he lashed out. Although there was hardly any force to the blow he managed to cuff the doctor at the side of his head and was about to throw another punch when Mark grabbed his arms and pinned him down. Despite being naked and having little strength he tried to fight back and break away from his captives. Alas, he was no match for them and a quick injection from the doctor calmed him down and he drifted off into unconsciousness again. Once he’d gotten over the brief commotion Paul, the doctor, carried out his examination and treated the bruises and cuts on the pale thin body as best he could. His diagnosis was more malnutrition than any great injury but recommended that the large cut on the boy’s arm was kept under scrutiny for any infection. He gave the boy various injections that would help him recover and suggested that Paul feed the lad up before letting him go… or call the police… or do whatever he was going to do with his young attacker. “He’ll be out for about 12 hours,” the doctor informed Mark. “So, is there anything else… or can I get back to Little Liam? I left him sitting in front of the TV watching the Cartoon Channel.” He saw Mark’s raised eyebrows, “Yes again,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders, “it’s his favourite.” Before he left Mark asked Paul to check to see if the lad had been sexually abused. Paul checked the boy’s anus and said that it was inflamed and torn and he reckoned that the lad must have been the subject of a vicious attack, and had probably been raped… and perhaps more than once was his diagnosis. Mark sighed “Poor little fellow.” Mark looked down at the lad once more and began to wonder what had driven this sorry looking soul to this point. He was even worried that if he threw him out and back onto the streets, the boy would be an easy victim of some unscrupulous druggies or bullies. He wondered what he could do to help; after all, he was a trained (and rather expensive) behavioural psychologist, perhaps he could help sort the lad out. As he speculated he suddenly became aware of a strong aroma and gathered that the boy had just urinated onto his leather sofa. He quickly grabbed the nearest thing to hand to mop it up, which led to the lad’s thin t-shirt, pants and jeans soon soaked with stinking piss. Rob was unaware of what had happened as Mark took these smelly objects and tossed them into the washing machine. Then he realised he couldn’t leave the lad naked so went off to find something to cover him with. Mindful that he needed to protect his sofa from any further accidents he found a large towel and some safety pins. Returning to the sleeping boy he fitted it like a diaper around the lad’s waist. Whilst pulling the towel up between the lad’s legs and fastening it tightly a sudden shiver ran down Mark’s spine. He caught his breath at this moment of recognition. His mind catapulted him back to the last time he’d done this - it was during his final exams in his last year of senior school. A huge trauma had recently affected Mark and he remembered waking up some mornings to find he’d unconsciously wet the bed. The trauma had been the dramatic death of his father in an explosion at the chemical plant where he worked, which had killed 17 others and had devastating consequences to all concerned. Finding he’d wet the bed at his age was another upset he found difficult to deal with and although he and his mother were very close, he didn’t want to burden her at this time with what he saw as a ‘stupid childish’ problem. Each night he’d diaper himself with a towel just in case he wet again and every morning he’d wake to find it soaked but on the plus side… at least the bed and bedding were reasonably dry. The pressure of exams and the death of his loving father, who had encouraged him to do well and to work hard, had ultimately had a distressing effect. He wanted his dad to be proud of him so worked exceptionally hard to pass his exams. The hours he put in to revision, the empty loss he felt inside, the sadness he could only imagine his mother was going through, all just built and built until it found some kind of release. It was just over a week that he’d been diapering himself when his mom found out. It was early one Monday morning when she entered his bedroom to wake him and found him sat on the edge of his bed in the soaked makeshift diaper. His youthful looks were etched with anguish as he shrugged not even trying to hide his obvious shame. She hugged her bed-wetting son and told him that he shouldn’t have to carry that worry on his own as she was there for him… for anything… and everything. Between them they would meet head on and solve any problem that came up. They had always been close and, like when his dad was alive, there were few secrets in this loving family. He was relieved that he didn’t have to pretend to her anymore and, as she sat beside him, both cried in their mutual sorrow. Once the tears were almost dried up she asked if he needed any help with his diapers. Apart from the soggy one, which at that moment was hanging heavily between his legs, he wasn’t sure what she meant. He gave a side-long look at his sympathetic mother and asked if she was offering to change him. She giggled, relieving what could have been a tense situation, and put her hand to her mouth as if she’d said something really stupid. They both laughed. “If I thought you needed it, of course I would, but you seem to be coping OK.” She looked into his eyes reassuringly. “But,” and she looked down at the sagging diaper, “don’t forget the other things… you don’t want to be getting a diaper rash at your age.” She paused to check he was still OK with what she was saying, “What I meant was, do you need me to get you anything?” He realised she was correct… it had all been a bit haphazard. He hadn’t been taking care of that side of his diaper hygiene, just having a shower then dressing for college… and his crotch and bum were raw and beginning to itch. His mom bought him some more appropriate disposables, plastic pants and assorted lotions and powders, it was like when he was a kid again and she loved the diversion from her own problems. One evening when Mark was getting ready for bed and applying his night time protection his mom came in and asked him if he recalled that he went through a similar period of bed-wetting when he was four. He remembered but, perhaps surprisingly, not in a negative way… it had all been so normal. She told him that he’d been potty-trained for two years when, just before he started school, he started to wet again. “Stress,” she said as if it was the answer, “you were very scared of leaving me and going to school.” His mom went on to tell him about the fun she and his father had with diapering their slightly older, but still little scamp as he played. “Wearing a diaper never stopped you doing anything. You never seemed to worry about it.” Indeed, from the moment it had been suggested that he needed to go back into diapers to save the bedding and loads of washing, he seemed to accept it. His dad was determined that he shouldn’t get distressed by being back in a diaper so had gone out of his way to be positive when his son was wearing them. This was partly due to the fact that he had also wet the bed as a child and his father, Mark’s grandfather, had given his own son such a horrible time about it; ridiculing and chastising him all the time. Mark’s dad was determined that if that type of misfortune should happen to his own son he would never be made to feel guilty about it. In fact, his dad, and mom to a certain degree, had loved having their 4 year-old baby back. They loved him scampering around the house in just a diaper and it never bothered young Mark because he was always being told it was normal as it was no more than just another style of underwear. The truth was that both his parents had loved his sweet little padded butt getting into all the things a 4 year-old got into. His dad had made it into a game for Mark and bought special plastic covers for his son’s diapers. Soon the little imp was running around in brightly coloured pants, that although made the padding thicker, didn’t seem to hinder his ability, or confidence, in getting around. At school there was no difficulty as he wasn’t the only one still in diapers and while at home, he seemed to prefer to wear little else. Even though it started as just a night time precaution, Mark was often up and dressed first thing in a morning before his parents and he’d have fastened himself into a diaper for the day… no matter what he was doing or where he was going. Both his mom and dad thought this was the cutest thing and Mark himself seemed to love each new design that was slipped over his diaper… often choosing the colour and pattern that his dad offered him each day. He wore all that extra padding from 4 years until he was almost eight, when, after a stay-over with his friend Danny, he'd asked his mom to buy him some big boy pants for when he started school again. Although his parents were sad that their little boy had grown up, they didn’t want to keep him dressed that way if he it made him unhappy. As his mum told him this story, parts of that time came flooding back to him and he remembered it as a period when he had never been happier. There was a great deal of loving attention from both his mom and dad and he recalled the constant picking up and hugging by them both. “We just loved patting your thick diapered butt.” His mom had said with a reminiscing smile, “and you… well you’d never seemed more content”. Suddenly those words struck him “never more content” and he knew exactly what he could do with his young, would-be assailant. His mind was suddenly dazzled with the possibility of this new enterprise. As the boy slept on oblivious of the thoughts that were now so appealing to Mark, the psychologist regretted chucking the lad’s clothing into the wash. As the final spin-cycle came to a stop he realised that any clues to his identity would probably have been washed away. The damp bundle of clothes revealed nothing at all. In fact, only the boy’s jeans appeared to have held together, the rest had simply dissolved to mere bits and pieces not even fit for rags. Finding out any information about the boy was now down to what he was prepared to reveal. He wasn’t sure if this would be a problem but looking down on the lad, wrapped in such a thick diaper, he thought it all might be worth the effort. He had this grand plan developing in his head as he slipped upstairs to his doctor friend to tell him about his intentions and to borrow some items that he thought would come in useful. ***tbc***
  7. The recent issue with the stories gave me the opportunity to repost this story after taking the time to fix grammar and spelling mistake that had been in the original. It is however the same story that I originally posted, just with less issues. I will be posting the the Chasing Emily side stories, 'Working on the Underground Railway' and 'Games of Skill, Games of Chance' once I have finished proofing them. I hope you enjoy this story Chasing Emily by InkuHime Emily loved her apartment. She loved the old brickwork, and the wood, polished by age, with a patina that was nearly impossible to reproduce artificially. Then there was the view, which most people would probably find nothing to praise, but Emily liked it. Old factories and squat office buildings, widely spaced, all of it built nearly a hundred years prior, and largely abandoned for the last twenty years. The way the morning and setting sun caught all the old architecture, she could stare at it for hours, or at least until the sun climbed too high or set. She liked the people or the fact that they minded their own business. And she really liked the fact that for whatever reason of reverse gentrification seemed to be at play that giants did not seem to want to live there. A few littles like her, but mostly inbetweeners, oddballs who did not quite fit into society. Artists mostly, a handful of people practising nearly forgotten trades, like the blacksmith who lived down on the first floor, or the man who made handmade paper in the factory across the street. She was a little out of place as she practised a highly technical trade. She was a programmer, a graphic designer, a bit of a hacker (that she kept extra secret), all freelance. Someone rang her doorbell. She got up from her seat, slipping down onto the floor from a chair that would have been a decent size for an inbetweener, and walked towards the door. She had a small flat screen monitor by the door displaying an image of the hallway. Standing in front of her apartment door was a young man, a tall inbetweener, a clerk at the organic market down the street. He carried two bags in his arms. Pressing the intercom button, she said, “Hey Ted, just leave them out there. I’ll get them in a couple of minutes.” “Sure thing Miss Black,” he said, then put the bags down and left. She waited until he had entered the rickety old elevator and the doors had closed before she opened her door and pulled both bags in. It was not that she thought that Ted was one of those that felt all littles needed to be taken care of, but the market he worked at was one of the few places that saw significant visitors from outside of the area. All she needed was him talking about the little who lived by herself. Say that to the right Amazon, well, the wrong one, and it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Bad analogy she knew, as bulls were colour blind. Carefully she picked up each bag and carried each one at a time to her kitchen. The place had been scaled towards the tall inbetweener crowd, sort of a safe size as even an Amazon could live there. As a little, she made use of a lot of step stools and put most things on lower shelves. Food unpacked she went back to her desk, did a little jump to get herself back on the chair. Her feet did not reach the floor. She was on the smaller size for an adult little, only a bit over four feet tall. Apparently, she was also ‘cute as a button’, which was not a phrase she liked. Back in her chair, she looked at the progress bar on her laptop. She was running a program of her own design, one that was converting an old banking program into a new web-based one. It was a specialised area of work that took most programmers weeks to do. Her program did it in a few hours, and then she would take a few hours to look for any problems before sending it back to the client. Not that she would send it back immediately. She would wait several days. No need to let her clients know how fast she really was. They might start making unreasonable demands on her time. She lost herself for a while, looking out her window at the late afternoon scene, the low buildings stretching out in front of her, off into the distance. There was a ribbon of undeveloped land between her neighbourhood and the city proper, where skyscrapers began to thrust up into the air. Some of her clients worked in those towers, paying her ridiculous amounts of money so that she could live her private life, on her own terms. There were times she felt like a prisoner, but she was content. And she reminded herself she would feel more like a prisoner in a crib. Her computer chimed. The program finished. She went to work, losing track of time, the apartment darkening as the sun slipped below the horizon. Emily was actually surprised when she looked up and found she was sitting in a dark apartment. Yawning widely she slipped off her chair and began to turn on lights, stretching out as she did so, wincing at a few tiny pains. Maybe she could get one of those standing desks, she thought, walking into her kitchen. Busying herself with making her dinner, she made herself stop thinking about her work. Eventually, dinner was made (she grilled up a steak, gently steamed some asparagus and broccoli) and then eaten. After cleaning up, she took a bath then, dressed in a terrycloth robe (made by the seamstress who loved two floors down), took a seat out on her balcony, a cup of coffee in her hands. The neighbourhood became a little livelier at night. Two of the factories had been converted to clubs, and people who would not live there came to celebrate. In the cooling night air she watched the expensive cars come in, park, saw the people get out. A lot of giants, seven and eight-foot men and women, a few even taller, dressed for a night out, laughing as they walked beneath her, unaware of the little who looked down at them. She liked it. When Emily finished her coffee, she left the balcony, put her cup in the dishwasher and then returned to her computer. Various emails had come in since she had last looked. Most of it was deleted, a few she read. There was one from Lyle Redmond, asking if she wanted to come and work for him. He made those offers at least once a month, and as always he asked if they could meet, or at least talk on the phone. Emily, of course, did not meet her clients, and she avoided the phone as her voice was high and apparently sweet. And Lyle Redmond--CEO of one of the largest entertainment companies in the country was nearly a ten-foot tall giant who had already ‘adopted’ five little ‘girls’ like they were a fashion accessory--was not someone she wanted to meet. Nor did she want him to hear her high and ‘sweet’ voice and start getting ideas. As always it took a bit of work to craft a polite refusal. Emily had no wish to send anything that would insult Lyle, He gave her a lot of work and paid her a lot of money, and he could have negative consequences on her career if he took it into his mind to do so. That done she shut off her computer and went to her bedroom to watch TV, carefully avoiding any show with bright colours and simple but catchy music. There was not a lot one could do in the neighbourhood. The artisanal shops tended to deal in bulk orders and did not handle walk-in clients well. The clubs opened later in the evening and were full of people Emily did not want to deal with anyway. She liked to walk around the old buildings, down the wide streets, during the early morning or later day, when few people were around. There was, however, one bar, a real hole in the wall, a place called Sharky’s, with windows so dusty anyone who did not live there would not know it was open. Sharky, Emily did not think that was his real name, was an old, blind man, who carded Emily every time she came in. Why she did not know. He could not even read the card. Once that bit of ritual was over he would make her a gin and tonic, she would climb up (literally) onto the barstool, and he would go back to his newspaper. “Why…” “I like the smell of the ink,” he told her. “God, your like some kind of mind reader.” “I can just predict stupid questions,” he told her. Farther down the bar Gus laughed. She turned to him and raised her glass in a salute. He returned the gesture with his beer mug. Gus was the blacksmith who lived and worked on the first floor of her building. He was about six feet tall, and Emily would swear nearly as broad in the shoulders. He worked part-time as a bouncer, able to handle even the giants who made trouble. She supposed if he spent his day forcing steel to his will putting a drunken amazon or giant in their place would not be too hard. “Sharky, give me a beer and a whisky chaser,” Candy said as she took a seat beside Emily. Candy was a mechanic, five and a half feet tall of grease monkey and attitude, with short black hair and oil in her blood. “Hey ya Emily.” “Afternoon Candy. Calling it early?” “Parts have to come in from the coast. Until they come in the car no go.” She nodded to Sharky (not that he could see it) as he put the beer down in front of her. “Client is going to bitch about it.” “They always do,” Emily said. “Amen to that sister.” She lifted her glass. Emily lifted her glass and tapped it against Candy’s mug. A musical chime filled the bar. “Don’t chip my glasses,” Sharky told them as he put Candy’s shot down. Candy smiled at Emily then took a pull of her beer. She put her beer on the bar and reached out, gently touching Emily’ short blonde hair. “You should grow this long.” Emily made a rude noise. “Long hair takes forever to take care of.” Candy ran her hand through her short hair. “That’s waste. Oh, Linda’s got this green fabric, make a great summer dress and go perfectly with those baby blues of yours.” Emily made another rude noise. “Don’t like summer dresses?” “For me, a summer dress is a skirt hike from being a toddler’s dress.” Sharky laughed. “Fair point. Make a nice, long skirt. Wear it with a white blouse. Look better than jeans and t-shirt.” “Maybe. Sometimes it is dangerous to look too mature.” “Not this again.” Candy sighed, then took a deep drink of her beer. “I’ll admit some littles end up being treated like children, but that is only the ones who can’t really take care of themselves.” Emily was about to argue that, but instead, she took a drink of her gin and tonic. She had gone to college and had been friends with three other littles. They had worked hard, putting up with RAs who were more like nannies, night time diapers, pull-ups, an almost complete lack of privacy; all because some littles ‘needed’ that level of care. The four of them had been in the top ten percent of their graduating class; Emily herself had been at the top. And four years later the other three were, last Emily had heard, in nurseries, spending their days in wet and messy diapers. “I’ll ask Linda about the cloth, have something nice made,” she said to Candy. “Good,” Candy said, smiling. In the city proper, the ballroom of the Grand Hotel was the complete opposite of Sharky’s. On the very top of the building, with three-story windows, large chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling, the room was brightly illuminated day or night. Polished marble floors, polished wooden accessory pieces, all clean, modern lines. It spoke of money. The ballroom was full of well-dressed people, moving about in various orbits, meeting and greeting. “Miss Morgan, a pleasure to see you here.” Chase Morgan turned towards the speaker. She was a handsome redhead, with dark brown eyes, and a dancer’s build. He was an inbetweener, perhaps a few inches over six feet. He was almost three feet shorter than her. “Mr Sands,” she said, nodding to him. He smiled up at her, apparently unconcerned by the differences in their heights. “I just wanted to let you know that my board is looking forward to the collaboration between your company and ours.” “I am glad to hear that,” she told him. Mr Sands was one of those inbetweeners who had what she considered the requisite level of maturity. If he had not, she would never have negotiated with him. They spoke a little more, discussing the evening, then he excused himself, moving off towards another group of people. The evening was a charitable event and an award ceremony for philanthropic acts of the local companies. It was all self-congratulatory and provided opportunities to network. Chase looked around. Most of the attendees were seven feet or taller, a smaller percentage six feet or a little higher. The staff members were all inbetweeners, except for the bartender who must have been ten feet tall. And then there was the one little. Lyle Redmond’s ‘daughter’. Not quite five feet tall, delicate, dressed in a silly little party dress, with a skirt puffed up so much her thick diapers were easily seen. She was an adorable thing, but at ten thousand dollars a plate, bringing a little was showing off. Though, Chase thought, if she had a little like that she might want to show her off as well. As if thinking about him summoned him Lyle approached her. “Chase,” he called all smiles. “Lyle,” she replied in kind. “I wanted to let you know I thought your presentation was great. Really, I think it was only that my company has more experience that we were awarded the contract.” “Thank you, Lyle,” she said, though she was thinking, ‘shut up you sanctimonious bastard.’ Some more small talk and then Lyle excused himself. Chase’s business partner, a man her size (though as she was wearing heels, she stood taller than him), young, well dressed, walked to her side, handing her a glass of champagne. “Thank you, Richard.” “What did Mr Redmond have to say?” “He was just rubbing it into my face, the contract we lost. All very polite.” She drank her champagne. “I’d like to get one up on him.” “Probably won’t be competing in the same arena again. Useful learning experience and got us a lot of contacts, but the board didn’t like it.” Chase nodded and then laughed. “Maybe I’ll find a little more pretty than his.” Richard only smiled. Eventually, everyone took their seats, and the food was brought out. There were speeches, awards, a nervous inbetweener man, the beneficiary of the charitable funds from that evening, who stuttered through a speech about how their generosity was going to help a lot of people. Everyone clapped politely. The most entertaining part of the evening, for Chase at least, was when Lyle’s little almost knocked a glass of juice over. Three tables away Chase watched as he pulled the girl over his lap, untaped her diaper, and proceeded to spank her. It brought the proceedings to a halt for a bit, what with the sound of the spanking and the little crying, ‘please stop Daddy’. No one complained, however. It was understood that such things had to be done. Some of the smaller inbetweeners seemed nervous, Chase thought. Later, after the dinner and the speeches were over, Chase had gone into the ladies restroom to freshen her make up. There she found the little being changed by Lyle’s personal assistant. She walked over, looking down at the little, laying on the change table, her puffy skirts pushed under her as the assistant cleaned her off. Her eyes were still puffy, and Chase could see the angry red on her raised bottom. “Poor thing,” Chase said. The assistant nodded as she looked to Chase. “Well, she promised to be good if she was brought along, so she should have been more careful.” She looked back to the little. “You were naughty, weren’t you Min?” “Yes Ma’am,” Min replied in a small squeaky voice that seemed more artifice than actual, which was a pity to Chase’s mind. “Min was naughty.” “Still,” the assistant said, turning her attention back to Chase, lowering her voice, “Mr Redmond was a little upset over getting turned down by Emily Black, again.” Chase did not like employees who gossiped about their employers, but as it was Lyle, she was willing to put that aside. “May I?” she asked, looking down at Min. “Of course.” Chase took over the position at the changing table, reached into the diaper bag for a tube of cream. She squirted some of it on her hands and then began to rub it into the girl’s soft skin. Min blushed and raised her hand to her mouth and began to suck her thumb. “Min’s shy,” the assistant said in a sing-song voice. Chase laughed as she wiped her hands and then sprinkled some baby powder over the girl’s diaper area. She lifted her bottom, pulling her up by her ankles, and slipped a new diaper under her. She skillfully taped it up and then patted the front of the thick diaper. “Little Min is all dry now.” “Say thank you Min.” Min slipped her thumb from her mouth and said, blushing, “Thank you for changing me.” “You’re welcome sweetie.” Letting the assistant take over she went to the sink and washed her hands, left the bathroom before Min and her caretaker. She found Richard and suggested they should go. Later, when they were in the car, she asked him, “Have you ever heard of Emily Black?” “Emily Black?” “Apparently she turned down Lyle, put him in a snit. Was wondering if she was some starlet or model.” Richard looked thoughtful. “I think there is a freelance IT specialist by that name. I could look into it.” Chase shook her head. “Just curious.” Later when Chase had returned to her apartment, she looked out her south-facing windows. They were the best views. To the South was a line of undeveloped and protected land and beyond that an old neighbourhood, with low, charming buildings. Nothing to spoil her view. She poured herself a shot of whisky and went to her computer. She did a search for Emily Black, added a few filter words. In a few minutes, she found a simple site for Emily Black. After looking through the website for a few minutes, she changed her opinion from simple to minimalist elegant. If she could hire this woman, she could rub it in Lyle’s face. But to even discuss that she would need to initiate contact. She clicked on the contact button and wrote an email. Emily woke early, went out for a quick jog along the empty streets, came back to her apartment and did some yoga. After finishing up, she showered and then had her breakfast. When she took a seat behind her computer, the area was waking up. She could hear the banging sound from Candy’s garage and knew that Gus would be working on his forge soon enough. All sounds she was used to. It was late in the morning when she read an email from Chase Morgan, asking for a check on her company’s security. She verified the email to make sure it was valid, then looked up Chase Morgan. A giant, an Amazon, but most of Emily's clientele were, and she tried to not hold it against them. She seemed a decent sort. No kids, real or otherwise. Always a good thing in her opinion. She was the CEO of a public relations/ advertising firm, one of the largest in the region. She was, Emily thought, looking at a picture, a striking woman. She looked at her calendar, decided she could fit in a basic scan later that day and sent an email to confirm the request. In the afternoon she started the work on the security audit, letting various programs she had written do the lion’s share of work. After dinner, she looked at the results, did some checking, and then put them aside to send off the next day. Chase read the report she had been sent, then cut away the preamble and the final suggestions before sending it to her IT manager. He came up to her office after lunch, holding a print out. He was about seven and a half feet tall, bit on the small side, but he was competent. “Where did you get this?” he asked her. “Any good?” He looked at the printout and then at her. “About half of it I knew about, problems we’re waiting on vendor patches for, but the other half, I missed that. No excuse.” “I’m not calling you on the carpet John, I just wanted to know what you thought. So it’s good?” “It’s excellent. Who did it?” “Emily Black. Heard of her?” “Yeah, if it is the same Emily Black. IT freelancer, near perfect.” “That sounds like her. What do you know?” “She’s been working for about three years, started small, built up a good reputation, now anyone in the know tries to hire her.” “Know anything else?” John shook his head. “I am thinking of hiring her, to do a full audit. If you are okay with that.” “That’s fine with me. But it is costly.” “How much?” “I hear she charges four thousand a day.” “That’s ridiculous.” “And yet people pay it. Apparently, she did one for Grantech two years ago. Found them over a hundred thousand in savings in the first year and plugged some holes that could have cost millions.” “I’ll have to think about it. If I go ahead with it, I will let you know.” “Thanks.” When he left Chase sat back in her chair. “Four thousand a day. Ridiculous.” Ten minutes later she was sending an email off requesting the audit. Emily went to see Linda after lunch. Linda was a seamstress who rented a large room on the second floor. She probably could have been working for any fashion house in the world, but the slim, bespectacled woman did not have the personality for such a job. She worked in the brightly lit room, surrounded by dressmaking dummies and shelves full of fabric. She made Emily a cup of tea, and they took a seat at a work table, Emily on a stool that gave her a bit of extra height, and talked about clothing. Someone knocked loudly at the door. “Just give me a minute Emily,” Linda said, getting up to go and answer the door. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Linda said, sounding a little nervous. “Weren’t you supposed to come here tomorrow?” “I know dear,” someone said, feminine, deep, a mixture that worried Emily as it usually meant a large woman. “However I had an opening in my schedule and was hoping you could measure the twins for those outfits we were talking about.” “Well, I suppose it is okay,” Linda told her guest, caving into the pressure, Emily thought, a little uncharitably as she took a drink of her tea. “Excellent.” The woman came into the room, and Emily got a good look at her. Probably eight and a half feet tall, smartly dressed, neatly bobbed blonde hair. She was holding (tightly) the hands of two girls, the ‘twins’ Emily supposed. They were probably related, but Emily did not think they were sisters, and she knew they were not actually children. The woman’s gaze fell on Emily. That look most giants had when they looked at a little, the one that was sizing them up for diapers; or at least that was what Emily thought when she was looked at like that. The woman looked to Linda who was following. “A customer?” she asked. “Just a neighbour ma’am,” Emily said politely. “Stopping off for a cup of tea.” The woman’s gaze did not waver until Linda said, “Perhaps you could get the girls’ clothing off?” The Amazon’s gaze left Emily and shifted to the littles with her. Both were dressed in identical denim rompers, white blouses, bottoms puffed out by diapers. Both were gagged by the pacifiers in their mouths. The Amazon set about stripping them down to vests and diapers. One of them looked towards Emily, her face flushing. Emily supposed she was still trying to fight against what was happening. The other one seemed unaware of Emily, or uncaring as if she had accepted her status. Emily knew that both of the ‘toddlers’ were littles, though the cotton vests and the thick diapers were doing an excellent job of hiding the subtle curves of a little. The woman, once she had each girl out of her clothing, made a big deal of checking their diapers, declaring both of them wet, and, after pulling back the diaper of the blushing one, that one of them had ‘made mommy a present’. A small part of Emily wanted to tell the woman to stop, to stand up for the littles, to tell her that they were not babies, but competent adults, or at least had been until the woman had got her paws on them. Of course, she did not. While she felt like a traitor for not doing so, she was not going to give that Amazon any reason to get angry at her. And she was careful about how much attention she paid to what was going on. If she ignored it, an Amazon might take that as shyness because maybe she had had an accident, and it was best that she check. It did not matter if you had not had an accident, and that you were not wearing diapers, giving an amazon and excuse to flip up your skirt or pull down your pants was a dangerous situation to be in. And she could not pay too much attention, in case that be taken as a desire to wear diapers also. She really wanted to leave but knew movement would attract attention. All right, perhaps she was paranoid but better safe than sorry. Linda measured the girls, putting the tape around their diapered bottoms. “They’ll always be wearing them,” the Amazon had said, “might as well include them.” Finally, Linda was done, and the Amazon was getting her charges dressed. Neither had spoken once, just sucked on their pacifiers as they had been measured. Emily could not help but shiver a little at that. “So, you’ll have the outfits ready in a week, with the extras?” Linda was looking at the paper pad she had taken notes on. She looked up and nodded. “Oh yes, not a problem. You will want the pink cotton?” “Yes, that will look nice.” The woman gave Emily one last look before Linda showed her out. Linda came back and poured Emily a fresh cup of tea. “Sorry about that.” “What did she mean by extras?” “Oh, that, well,” she paused, “she wants several outfits with straps, to restrict the movement of the arms and legs.” Emily’s eyes widened slightly. “So they will have to crawl?” “Yes,” Linda nodded. “That is why.” “That’s terrible,” Emily said before she could stop herself. “Oh Emily, don’t be silly. Sometimes it is just easier to take care of babies when they are crawling.” Emily wanted to say that they were not babies, that they were women, but as always she did not. The message would not get through. And more than once her angry statements had been described as ‘cranky’ or a ‘tantrum’ and those were words she did not want people associating with her. “Candy said you had some green fabric that would look good on me.” “Oh, I do. What are you thinking?” “A slinky, sexy pencil skirt with a tight white blouse.” “That will look wonderful on you.” She grabbed her measuring tape. “Let me get your numbers.” As she was being measured Emily thought she caught a faint diaper smell on the tape as it passed close to her face. Chase looked at the email she had received back. Damn, John had been right. Four thousand dollars a day, maximum charge of forty thousand dollars, and a flat sixteen thousand offer. Emily Black was suggesting Chase go with the daily rate, saying she could probably get it done in two days. “To hell with that,” Chase said as she replied to the email, indicating she would take the sixteen thousand deal. Two days later Chase received a full report back. She swore quietly for a good two minutes, then sent the report to John and set about writing an email. Dear Miss Black, Thank you very much for your hard and prompt work. I was hoping that we might meet, or at least talk on the phone, to discuss a possible position for you with my company. We are both women of the world so I will get right down to the facts. The fact is that I want to teach Lyle Redmond a lesson, and I can’t think of anything better than hiring you. Petty? Perhaps, but in all honesty, I can’t help but think of all the benefits my company would have were you to come and work for me. And I believe you would benefit as well. Please give my request some consideration. Thank you, She looked the email over and then sent it off. Up on her balcony, Emily watched a giant man get out of an SUV. From the rear seat, he brought out a small figure. Girl, boy, child or little, she could not tell. She guessed that he was going to Linda’s apartment. It looked like Linda was gaining some popularity for her ‘children’s’ clothing. Emily was glad for her friend, but at the same time, she would have preferred less of the larger people around. After finishing her tea Emily went back into her apartment, climbing up on her chair, taking a look at her computer. She had a new email, from Chase. She was not surprised to get a job offer, that happened fairly often. She was a little surprised as to the ultimate reason. And she was inordinately pleased to be called a woman of the world by an Amazon. That alone made her consider the offer for a moment, but she immediately discarded the thought. She was pretty confident if they were to meet Chase’s ‘woman of the world’ comment would be forgotten. She wrote her canned reply, thanking her for the offer and regretfully declining. She did add an extra line, agreeing that Lyle was quite dogged in the pursuit of what he wanted and how it made him a challenge to deal with. It was the closest she would come to criticising one client to another. She sent the email and went back to work. “Son of a bitch,” Chase said, louder than she intended when she read Emily Black’s reply. “Something up?” Richard asked from the other side of the desk. “Oh,” she said, cheeks growing a little warm. “I offered Emily Black a job, and she just shot me down. It is a little annoying.” “You trying to show up Lyle?” “Guilty as charged.” “Probably see why he was upset.” She nodded. “I suppose if I was caring for a little right now I might ending up spanking her a little harder than required.” “You ready for the meeting?” he asked. “Yeah.” She grabbed a file folder. “I need to get Lisa to print something out for me. Go ahead.” He stood up. “See you soon.” She nodded and got up from behind her desk. Lisa, her assistant, an eight-foot-tall woman, was working at her desk. “Lisa, I need a colour print out of the GBB file.” “Yes Miss Morgan,” she said with a smile, turning to her computer. “Bring it down to meeting room three when it is done.” “Yes Miss Morgan.” She turned to go, then paused and looked back at her. “Lisa, I have something I would like you to work on, as you have time.” “Yes Miss Morgan?” “Get me a list of the top ten percent of all female graduates from,” she paused, “the top fifty colleges and universities in the country.” Lisa seemed confused by the request, but she nodded. “When do you want it by?” “No rush. Just work on it as you have time.” “Understood.” Over several days both Emily and Chase were busy with work, and both had put the other out of their minds. Chase was dealing with several product launches, while Emily had been hired to help finish the CGI for several scenes in a movie. It was Chase who was the first to turn her attention back to the other when Lisa sent her an email with an attached file. The email’s subject was, ‘The Information you wanted’ and the body referenced the conversation they had had several days before. She wanted to open the file immediately, but Richard was calling her. They had clients to meet. In fact, she was busy the entire day and did not get a chance to open the file at all. Finally, back at home, she printed off the document, took a seat on her balcony, a glass of wine at her side, and read through the report. She found an Elizabeth Black, honours graduate in literature. Next was an Amy Black, graduate in engineering, near the bottom of the ten percent that Chase had indicated the cutoff. Near the middle of the report, in a list of graduates from the Women’s Institute of Applied Technology, she found an Aemilia Black, honours computers. Top of her graduating class, top of the entire school, four years ago. “Bingo,” Chase said happily. Then she told herself to take it easy. She would look through the entire list, just to be sure. There was an Emmiline Black, another graduate in computer studies, but again low in the placings, and from a small school. She’d check them all, but she had a good feeling about Aemilia. Sharky’s was busy. Emily, having finished several projects, had felt like celebrating. She had put the word out and was buying drinks. Most of the residents of the apartment building were there, as well as some of the people who worked in local businesses. Gus laughed as he tossed back a mug of beer. “You are a prince among men,” he told her. “Thank you,” Emily said from her stool and then, “I think.” “What he means,” Candy said, draping an arm across her shoulders, “is that everyone loves the woman buying the booze.” Emily smiled as behind the bar Sharky filled several more mugs with various beers. “They all drink when someone else is paying.” Linda walked over a tall glass of scotch and soda in her hand. “How about I pay for the next round?” “You got the scratch?” Candy asked her. Linda blushed under Candy’s scrutiny. “I’ve got some more business lately, and tips.” Her eyes went wide. “Generous tips.” “All those giants?” Linda nodded. Emily was not happy about Linda’s new clientele, but she wanted to be happy for her friend’s success. “If you are feeling generous I’ll happily drink to your triumph.” The gathering went on well into the night, and Emily and Linda stumbled back to their building, escorted by the surprisingly sober Gus. It was a good night. Chase had ordered online copies of yearbooks and alumni listings. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she sat down and began to look through them. Elizabeth Black, a muddy haired brunette who was working on her doctorate in romantic poetry. She crossed Elizabeth off her list. Amy Black, and inbetweener working for an overseas resource development company. Another name crossed off. Aemilia Black was a little, and Chase triple checked the names and information, sure that no little could have graduated top of her class, but no, there it was. She looked at the adorable blonde, wearing her university smock and uniform (only sensible to put littles in school uniforms). She could not quite accept that Emily Black could be a little. She started to cross the name off, but her pen stopped halfway through Aemilia. She would think about that one. Emmiline Black should have been the one, she was a tall Amazon, but when Chase read the notes on alumni, she gave up on it. Amazon or not, Emmiline was not the brilliant computer specialist that Emily was. She went back to Aemilia and read up on the details about the girl. Top of her class all four years. Got a gold star each year for potty use. Gold star each year for keeping her dorm bed dry. Surprising for a little, Chase thought. Never officially spanked. Top of her class, but she had not been the class valedictorian. Well, of course, a little could never stand up in front of a graduating class and the guests to make a speech. Even assuming the shy thing did not start crying the staff would probably have to stop the speech so she could run off to potty. Chase took a look through the notes about alumni, but it was like Aemilia had dropped off the face of the earth right after she graduated. It was always possible she was in a nursery somewhere, but something about the determined gaze in her yearbook picture made Chase think just maybe that Emily and Aemilia were one in the same. As ridiculous as that notion should be. She called Lisa into her office. “Lisa, find me the name of a good private investigator would you.” “Of course Miss Morgan.” Emily found a pair of Amazons in front of her building, one of them holding a leash attached to a baby harness that a little was wearing, the other pushing with a stroller--the occupant might have been a real child, she was not sure. As soon as she saw them, she was ready to duck away, but the one with the stroller saw her and said, “You girl.” Emily knew that running would only invite chasing, and the long legs of the Amazon gave her a distinct advantage if it came down to a chase. “Yes ma’am,” she said politely. Both women regarded her, as did the little on the end of the leash. The little on the leash looked positively gleeful, and Emily was sure the leashed girl was hoping that someone else was going to join her in enforced toddlerhood. The little fink, Emily thought, though it was an uncharitable thought. “We are looking for a tailor, named Linda Corda.” “She is on the second floor of this building ma’am. Apartment 201.” “This building?” the woman holding the leash asked. It was on her tongue to reply in a snotty manner, ‘yes, this building,’ but she did not. It was not easy to answer politely, “Yes ma’am.” Sure the place looked like it was a dump, but it was structurally sound and was much nicer on the inside. Don’t judge a book by its cover you cow, she thought. They both looked away from Emily and to the building, then the one with the stroller looked back to Emily. “Do you live here?” “No ma’am. Over there,” she said, pointing at the building that Candy worked out of. She did not want them asking her to escort them in. “Well, then you better go. You should not be alone out on the street.” “Yes ma’am,” she said, noting the look of disappointment that flashed across the face of the leashed little, apparently upset that Emily was not about to join her. You really are a fink. She turned and walked quickly to the garage, opening the door and entering, letting out the breath she had been holding. That had felt close. There was a banging sound coming from within, and she followed it to Candy’s work area. She was leaning into the engine compartment of a large muscle car, an old one, pounding away on something. “What are you doing Candy?” Emily called over the noise. The banging stopped. Candy lifted herself out from under the hood, looked back at her. “Hey, Emily. Just trying to get a cylinder to move, hoping it’s not seized up.” “This is a car for a giant, right?” Candy nodded. “You’d have to be at least seven feet tall to reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel. Come and take a look at the engine, it’s huge.” Emily used a stool to climb up and look, getting some grease on her bare knees (she as wearing shorts) and hands. The engine was indeed massive. “Seems a lot more of the larger types around these days,” Emily said. “Really? I didn’t really notice.” “Well, they are mostly coming to get Linda to make them clothing.” “Yeah, I’m glad that Linda is doing well. You get her to make you something?” “Skirt and blouse.” “Wear them to Sharky’s some time so I can see.” “Will do.” And Emily passed the time with Candy until the two Amazon women left and she could get back into her building without being hassled. Emily got busy over the following week, several high paying projects were offered to her. She spent most of the week working or sleeping, and ordered a lot of takeout, having no time to cook. When she finally finished, she ended up crashing, sleeping almost fourteen hours straight. Quite possibly she would have slept even longer had not the incessant buzzing of her doorbell woken her. She rolled out of her bed, hit the floor in a tangle of blankets, which padded her fall, and reached for a fallen pillow which she pulled over her head. Still, the doorbell buzzed. Crawling from the nest of blankets she got to her feet and stumbled sleepily towards her front door. Tired as she was she almost opened it without checking the monitor, but it was an ingrained habit, and she looked down at the screen as her hand reached for the deadbolt. Her hand stopped. Standing outside of her apartment was an Amazon and not just any Amazon, but Chase Morgan. She backed away from the door, eyes locked on the monitor. How long had she been standing out there, ringing the doorbell? Why was she standing out there, ringing her doorbell? Was she there for her? Emily wondered. Impossible, she thought. Her mind bounced around, seeking a reason. She could be there for Linda. And had gotten the wrong floor. And had stood out there on the wrong floor, looking at the number, 403, ringing the doorbell and not realising she was on the wrong floor. She would have to be pretty stupid. That she was stupid seemed unlikely. She stopped ringing the doorbell. Thank god. She started knocking, pounding on the door. Oh god! It was a nightmare. That Amazon as going to break in, and she had been asleep for more than twelve hours, and she had to pee really badly. She was going to be caught by an Amazon while she was pissing herself. It could not be worse. Then her more logical mind put a cap on the panic. Chase was not going to break through that door. And she could go the washroom. So she did. When she was finished, Chase had gone. She went out on the balcony, peeking out. There was a big, black SUV out there. She snuck back in. All she had to do was wait. Eventually, she heard the car start up, peeked out to see it drive away. “I won,” she said softly. Relaxing, she showered and then had her breakfast. She was just reading her email when her doorbell rang. The bagel in her hand nearly went flying. She was back! Checking the monitor she saw that it was not Chase Morgan at her door, but Linda. She opened her door. “Hi, Linda.” “Good morning Emily. I finished your outfit.” She held out a white cardboard box tied with a blue string. On top of it where a pair of black slippers. “Great,” Emily told her, taking the parcel. “Let me try it on for you.” “Thank you,” Linda said as she closed the door behind her. Emily went to her bedroom, stripped off her shorts and top and opened the box. She took out the panties and the bra first. Leave it to Linda to leave nothing unthought of. She put them on, then the silk blouse and the sheer white stockings. Slipping into the pencil skirt she did up the fastener. Not looking into the mirror she went out, to let Linda see the effect first. “You look great,” Linda said. “Sexy.” Now Emily took the time to look at herself. She had little in the way of curves, but Linda’s tailoring made the most of what little there was, drew attention to the very slight flare of her hips, focused on her slim neck, which helped draw attention away from her almost complete lack of breasts. “This is amazing.” Linda was smiling. “You never asked for sexy before.” “I’ll be asking for it more,” Emily told her as she posed in front of the mirror. “Oh, I was asked to give you this.” Emily turned, saw Linda holding a card. She took it. The embossed card spelt out ‘Chase Morgan’ and had a telephone number. “She asked that you call her, about a job.” Emily swallowed. “Thank you,” she said. “She seems nice. I was surprised, you usually don’t have any clients come here.” Keeping calm, not wanting to try to explain things to Linda (who would not understand) she said, “Miss Morgan is a special case.” “She seems nice. I showed her the outfit I made for you. She was quite interested in it.” “That’s nice.” Chase had to know she was a little now. “She asked me to make a few child style outfits, paid in advance, asked for the best materials, just like you.” “Oh?” Emily asked. “Did she have someone with her?” “No, but she said that they were for someone your size. Maybe you can be my model for them.” “What? No.” “I’m just joking,” Linda said with a laugh. “I’ll make something that fits a general size. If required I can let them out or take them in.” “Yes, of course,” Emily said. She looked at her watch. “I have to run. You really look great in that.” “Thanks. Maybe I’ll come by tomorrow to talk about a few other outfits. If you are not too busy?” Which was Emily’s way of making sure there would not be too many giants around. “Tomorrow should be good. See you later.” Once she was gone, Emily went and locked her door. She looked at the card, then ripped it up and dropped the pieces in the garbage. “Just leave me alone,” she told the torn up paper. The next time Emily heard Chase’s name was when she was down at Gus’s office, helping him with an issue with his internet connection. “Just need to reset the modem and the router, and you should be back up,” she told him. Gus laughed. “You know me, if I can’t hit it with a hammer, it is beyond me.” Emily shook her head and then tested his connection. “You are back up.” “You are a lifesaver. I am glad we have a computer expert in the building. That reminds me.” He went into his desk drawer and pulled out a card. “I was asked to give this to you.” With a sinking feeling, she took the card. ‘Chase Morgan’ was written on it. “She asked me to give you that card if I saw you.” “Why was she here?” Emily asked, her tone a little strident, apparently surprising Gus as his eyebrows rose. “I mean,” she let her tone shift back to normal, “why did she come to talk to a blacksmith?” “She as asking about some ironworks for her office lobby,” Gus told her with a smile. “She wants something unique.” “Well, your work is great, so I’m not surprised.” His smile grew wider. “Thanks. Got to admit, thought it was weird. I’ve never seen one of your clients come here before.” “Special case,” Emily said while thinking, ‘head case’. She was not even to be left alone in Candy’s garage. The big engines had interested her, so she made time to come by and watch Candy work. Candy joked about Emily becoming her apprentice. “Get me the torque wrench will you Emily. The metric one.” Emily had been perched up on a step ladder, looking down into the engine that Candy was taking apart. She jumped down and get the wrench. Candy looked at it and nodded. “Good eye my apprentice.” Emily smiled. “So you really want to learn engines?” Emily leaned in. “I need something to fall back on in case this computer thing turns out to be a passing fad.” Candy laughed, gave the bolt she as working on a twist. “That reminds me. I was asked to give you…” “Oh no.” “What?” a surprised Candy asked. “Nothing. Just remembered something.” Candy nodded after a moment, then walked over to one of her workbenches. She came back with an oil-stained business card. Emily took it with a nod. “Thank you.” “She seemed like a nice lady. Said she might have me restore an old war motorcycle she has, one of the big Valkyries the giants rode. Can you imagine the engine that thing will have? The history.” “I can imagine it.” “Going to start having more of your clients come by.” “I don’t think so,” Emily said with a shake of her head. “Miss Morgan is special.” A few days passed with no more cards left from Chase, and Emily was considering that just maybe the Amazon had given up. Early afternoon she had put on the outfit that Linda had made for her. There was only one place she could go dressed in such a manner, so she went to Sharky’s to have a drink. It was empty, so there was no one to show off to. She perched on her customary bar stool, with her gin and tonic, and wondered if she should move. Sharky put his newspaper aside, go to his feet, and a moment later said, “Don’t see many of your type in here.” Later she figured that Sharky had heard the sound of her footsteps, but at that time it was just one more fantastic thing about the man. “I can’t imagine why.” The voice was deep, feminine and sarcastic. It cannot be, Emily thought, slowly turning her head to look behind. It was like being in a horror movie, and a small part of her was yelling at the back of her mind, ‘don’t look, it’s not real if you don’t look.’ Of course, she looked. Chase Morgan stood there, dressed in a smart suit of a green material, almost the exact same shade as Emily’s skirt. She smiled at Emily. Emily almost said, ‘Grandma, what big teeth you have,’ but she bit down on the words, and turned back to her drink, trying to pretend she had no idea who the Amazon was. She wanted to run, but the pencil skirt, while giving an illusion of length to her legs, was not meant for running. Likely she would end up face first on the dirty bar’s floor. Chase leaned up against the bar (it was not like she could sit on the stool) beside Emily and said, “I’ll take what she is having.” Sharky made another gin and tonic and put it down in front of Chase. Then he went back to his chair and picked up his newspaper. “Why…” Chase said. “I like the smell of ink,” Sharky told her. Emily could not help but giggle. Stupid, stupid, she told herself. Don’t bait the bear. Chase picked up the glass that had been put in front of her and took a drink. “Gin?” she said to Emily. Not able to ignore her Emily decided not to say, ‘you think I should be drinking milk’ but instead said, “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” “Oh,” Chase took another drink. “Is that your bedtime?” It was, Emily admitted, a clever rejoinder. Instead of acknowledging that she said, “Happy hour.” “Ah, yes.” Chase drank, and Emily drank, and they did not speak again, and Emily kept hunching her shoulders up, sure something was going to happen. Chase put her empty glass down on the bar with a ‘clack’. Emily jumped a little. Chase put several bills on the bar. “I’ll pay for her drink as well,” she said. And then she left. She just left. Why had she just left? That made no sense to Emily. Maybe it was time to find out just what Chase Morgan wanted because she was acting in a way that did not make sense to Emily. Sharky gathered the money off the bar, sorted it and put it in the old cash register. “Minus my tip, if she is covering your drinks, you could drink all night.” Or maybe she would just put it off and hope Chase never came back. “Well, give me another,” Emily told Sharky. Chase got into her car. She took a deep breath. “No one should be allowed to be that adorable,” she said aloud. “And littles should not look so good dressed like that.” She admired Linda’s work, hoped that the tailor's more childish work would be equally effective. She looked out her car window, at the old bar, with the dusty windows. She wanted to go back in there, pick that little up, and take her away. No one would say anything. She could have Emily in one of the automated daycares, or send her to one of the more personal training schools by tomorrow morning. Soon she would be just another helpless little, her cute tiny tush padded out by a thick diaper. But, strangely enough, Chase did not quite feel like that was what she wanted. Of course, Emily needed to be taken care of. There was no doubt about that. And the best way to take care of a little was just to treat them like small children. That was a known fact. But she was too much a businesswoman to discount the girl’s abilities. “This is going to be tricky,” she said as she started up her car and drove away. Emily had a hangover the next day. It made the morning start slow and rough. When someone pounded on her front door, it went right through her head. She looked at the monitor. Saw it was Gus. She opened the door. “What?” She did a lousy job keeping her tone civil. He was holding a letter. He reached up and removed an envelope taped to her door. “Read.” She looked at the envelope. The name in the upper right corner was ‘West Management.’ Her name was typed in the centre. She tore it open, scanned the contents. “They going to turn this place into condos,” Gus said. Emily shook her head. “They are only saying they are doing an assessment.” “Which means they are going to turn it into condos, or even just make a handful of improvements and raise the rent.” Emily could not deny the possibility. “Look, we’re getting together at Sharky’s later today, to talk this out. Can you see what you can find out about this West Management place?” Emily nodded. “I will.” “Thanks,” Gus said, then left. She closed the door and then went to get some aspirin. Emily sat in Sharky’s, listening to everyone talk. Everyone was upset. Linda, who knew she would never find another place like her apartment again, sounded near tears. Gus, who was going to have a hard time setting up a new forge, even if he could find a place where it was zoned to allow it was angry. Nestor, Grace, James, Fred and Tony, all people who lived in the building and could not afford a rent increase. Candy and others from other buildings in the area were there as well because if it happened to one building, it would happen to all of them, eventually, or so they thought. Emily had told them almost all of what she had found out about West Management. A wealth management company, handling investments for people, for various tax benefits. She had told them it was possible if West Management did an assessment of the building they might do nothing, or perhaps just sell it again. What she did not tell them was that West Management was owned by Chase Morgan and that her arranging to have the building bought was likely a ploy against Emily. She did not tell them that because it would sound crazy. Eventually, the impromptu meeting changed to people drinking to drown their sorrows. Emily, still too fresh off her morning hangover, left. When she reached her apartment, she found another envelope taped to her door. She took it down. In it was a page that read, ‘Call me.’ And there was a phone number. Only one person that it could be from. She went into her apartment, locked the door behind her, and went to make a call on the phone she hardly ever used. “Hello Emily,” Chase said as soon as she answered. “Hello Miss Morgan,” she said, defaulting to polite. “A pleasure to hear your sweet voice, my dear.” Emily took a deep breath. “You seemed determined to speak with me,” Emily said. “You upset a lot of good people, Miss Morgan.” “Perhaps if you had just answered your door or called me it would not have come to this,” Chase told her. “Had you handled this in a slightly more mature manner…” “Why did you have to bring all my friends into this?” “Because they all like you, and I assume you must like them.” Emily realised she was gritting her teeth. She relaxed her jaw and said. “Of course I like them.” “Then you would want to help them, wouldn’t you sweetie?” No other option. “Yes.” “Such a good girl.” An oh so condescending tone. “Seeing as you have not handled this in the most adult of manners, I think I will dictate the terms. Come by my office tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it.” “Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly,” Emily said before she could stop herself. Chase laughed. “I promise not to bite, though wrapping you up in silk is not an impossibility.” “I’ll be there. What time Miss Morgan?” “Ten in the morning. And Linda finished the outfits I commissioned. I would like you to bring them with you.” “I would be happy to.” It seemed a little thing. “And perhaps you might model one for me. Not that you did not look nice in that outfit you wore yesterday, but I think something a little more suited for the tone I want to set for our business. Number three would be the best choice.” “Pardon?” “You’ll understand when you pick them up. I will see you tomorrow.” Emily was careful not to sigh. “Yes, Miss Morgan.” Chase hung up. Emily carefully paced the handset in its cradle, then went into her bedroom, pulled her covers over her head and then screamed into her pillow for several minutes. Finally, she sat up, tossed the covers aside and then flopped backwards among them. “Damn you,” she said quietly. She got up from the bed and went back down to Sharky’s. Linda, usually not a big drinker, seemed happy enough to leave with Emily to get the outfits. There were five boxes, wrapped in paper, tied with strings, each numbered. Seeing the ‘3’ written on one filled in the missing the information.” “Do you really think we’ll be able to stay here?” Linda asked her. Emily looked from the boxes to Linda. She was standing near the wall of windows, looking out. She looked wistful. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I’m not sure what I will do. This much room. This much light. Near people like Nestor who handles the leatherwork.” She shook her head. Emily wanted to assure her that everything would be alright, but she could not. And she knew she would be at Chase’s office the next day. Running away was not an option. Number three was a white, empire waist dress, with short sleeves, a sailor collar and pleats in the short skirt (but not too short, thankfully). There was black and red piping around the hem of the dress and the ends of the sleeves. As was Linda’s signature, she had included a pair of shoes (red maryjanes) and a small patent leather purse. The leather was probably Nestor’s work. Tony had likely made the shoes. They were, she thought, a surprisingly self-sufficient group of people. And undergarments had not been left out. A white cotton vest, thick white cotton tights, some petticoats, and a pair of voluminous panties of thick white cotton, embroidered with little black anchors. She had held the panties out and thought they barely stepped above training panties, but she supposed that step, as minuscule as it was, was significant. Dressing in the morning, Emily quickly noticed the vest and the loose panties with tight (almost uncomfortable) waist and leg bands removed any curves. And the lines of the dress drew attention to what she did not have. As always, Linda’s work was impressive. She stood out on her sidewalk, the boxes beside her, in her red shoes, holding her little patent leather purse. She hoped none of her neighbours saw her. The cab she had called for pulled up to the curb in front of her. The driver, an inbetweener about six feet and some inches looked down at her. “Your mother around kiddo?” Emily wanted to scream. “I called you,” she said. “You?” he looked doubtful. Emily opened her purse, took out a small bundle of bills. “There is a big tip in it for you.” Money talked, she thought. He helped her put the boxes in the trunk (which is to say he took the boxes and put them in the trunk) and then took a booster seat from it, placing it in the back seat. “Wish you had said something when you called, would have preferred a car seat.” Emily did not say anything and did not argue against the booster seat (though she would have preferred to do without it). He helped her into it, not even asking her, and then put the seatbelt on her. Emily accepted it, saving her energy for fights that mattered. The driver took her across the undeveloped land and into the city. Chase Morgan’s company was large enough to have its own building near the centre of the city, a twenty-five story tower sized for giants. She looked up at the silver steel and black glass of the building as the cab driver pulled up in front of it. It looked impressive. It had been years since she had last been in a city with such buildings, and she had gotten used to the less intimidating architecture of her home. The driver helped her out of the car, and while he got the packages from the trunk, she pulled his fee and the promised, generous tip from her purse. They exchanged parcels for money, and then the cab driver drove off. Balancing the boxes, she walked towards the front doors of the Morgan Tower. She was really out of place. There was not a single other little she could see in the area, and not too many inbetweeners either. Having gone so long avoiding such situations her mind was screaming warnings, telling her to run, but she pushed back her shoulders and walked straight to the door. She supposed that Chase had done her a favour, having her dress like this. It made her look like she was being cared for. It was protective colouring, a warning to other giants to back off, ‘this little is mine, and I have the money to see her properly attired’. God, she hated giants. No one accosted her, and the doors opened automatically for her as she approached. The lobby was, in her opinion, pointlessly large, and scaled for people seven feet plus. The two women sitting at the receptionist desk had to be at least seven and a half feet each, probably closer to eight, and Emily would not have been able to see over the desktop if she stood too close. Of course, the women noticed her. The blonde on the right leaned over the desk. “Well, hello sweetheart. Are you lost?” It was, Emily thought, intimidating to be dressed as she was. Careful to keep her voice even she said, “My name is Emily Black. I am here to see Miss Chase Morgan.” “Oh sweetie, Miss Morgan is too busy to buy any cookies from you.” “Cookies?” Oh, the boxes. “I’m delivering these for her,” she said and winced at how stupid she sounded. “Now sweetie..” The other receptionist, a brunette, tapped her companion on the arm, pointed to the computer screen. “Really?” the blonde said. “It’s right here,” the brunette told her. “Sorry sweetie, I didn’t realise you had an appointment.” “Yes.” The blonde clapped her hands together. “Aren’t you just the most adorable thing.” She came around the desk. “Let me show you there.” Emily was glad her hands were full of the boxes as it avoided having to take the blonde’s hand. She was led to the elevators, and she supposed it was a good thing the blonde had come with her or she would be jumping up to try to hit the elevator buttons. “Be good sweetie,” the blonde said, pressing the button for the twenty-third floor and then stepping out. The brunette had probably called up for when the elevator doors opened Chase Morgan stood there, wearing an outfit that looked suspiciously like the one that Emily had been wearing when they had first met at Sharky’s. Of course, Chase needed no artifice to show off her curves. It was done on purpose for it made Emily feel even more childish in her sailor dress. “Here, let me take those,” she said, taking the boxes from Emily. “Just a moment and hold still. Let me look at you.” She looked Emily up and down. “Linda does wonderful work.” Emily felt her face grow warm and tried to force the feelings of embarrassment down. “Come on Emily,” Chase said, turning and walking away, expecting Emily to follow obediently along. That Emily had no choice but to follow obediently along made it so much worse. There was not, thankfully, anyone in the hallway. Emily took a quick look around, it looked like the office suites on this floor were large, which meant less staff. When they entered one of those suites Chase said, “Lisa, this is Emily Black.” “That’s Emily Black?” Lisa (who Emily guessed was a secretary) asked incredulously. Emily bit back a rude reply. “Yes,” Chase told her, tone firm. “I’m sorry,” Lisa said. Emily thought she was apologising to Chase, but she supposed that it might be possible that the apology was meant for Emily herself. Possible but not likely. “Emily, this is Lisa Smith, my personal assistant.” “Miss Smith,” Emily said, one more falling back on politeness. “Lisa, go and find a booster seat for Emily.” “Of course Miss Morgan,” Lisa said and hustled from the office. Emily felt her cheeks warming at the thought of Lisa looking for a booster seat, perhaps saying, ‘it is for a little Miss Morgan has up in her office, maybe I should bring a changing pad as well, just in case’. Why couldn’t Chase have had the stupid booster seat there to begin with? She had known Emily was coming. “This way,” Chase said, entering her office. It was large, even considering its occupant, with a big desk set near a wall of windows. She would need a booster seat to see over that. “While we are waiting,” Chase said, and took the dress boxes over to her desk, placing them down. She used what Emily hoped was a paper cutter to cut the strings and then carefully unwrapped the first box and opened it. “Look at this,” she said to Emily, lifting out and holding up a short sleeved, pink princess dress. “Very nice,” Emily said with no real enthusiasm, for she guessed were she to wear that that the skirt would not cover up whatever undergarment she might be wearing. “Yes, it is,” Chase said, and carefully put it back into the box before opening the next one. “How sweet,” Chase said for the next one, a white and blue romper. Chase made sure to draw Emily’s attention to the snaps in the crotch. The third was a set of several shorts and blouses, all of the shorts with suspender straps and snaps in the crotches as well. Chase was showing off the last, a white dress with ruffles and lace that looked like something a toddler might wear to church when Lisa returned with the booster seat. “Oh, that is just so cute,” she gushed, and then looked towards Emily, “I want to see her in it,” she said, hungrily (or at least that is not how Emily heard it). “I’m not sure this is Emily’s,” Chase said as she put the dress back in the box. “The seat.” Lisa put the booster seat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. She then, without asking, picked up Emily and put her in place. “There you go,” she said. Emily never liked being grabbed by Amazons, but she managed a weak ‘thank you’, telling herself she might have actually needed a little help. Lisa left as Chase took a seat behind her desk. “So here we are,” Chase said. “So here we are,” Emily echoed. “I appreciate you coming.” “I did not feel if I had a choice.” Chase smiled. “You always have a choice.” “You might.” Chase frowned for a moment. “I want you to work for me.” “And what would I do Miss Morgan?” “I have not decided yet. I am sure we can find a position for you.” The position that Emily thought of was back on a change table, legs raised, but she did not say that. “And if I am not interested.” Chase did not answer immediately. Eventually, she said, “While I don’t want to seem like some cheap movie villain, your neighbours might not appreciate it.” Emily wanted to swear at her but kept her temper in check. “That does not seem to leave me much choice.” “Because you are such a nice girl.” If you could read my thoughts you would not think so, she thought, but said, “You are very kind.” “So, you will come and work for me?” “How much will I be paid?” Chase frowned, and Emily wondered if she had even thought of that. “You will be fairly compensated for your skill set,” she finally said. Which, Emily thought, could easily translate into all the diaper changes she needed. “What project are you bringing me on for?” Again Chase frowned, and Emily wondered if she was pushing too far, but what else could she do? “I will have you work in various areas of the business until we have found the best fit for you, and that is all I can say.” There was a sense of finality to that, and Emily knew she should not ask any more questions. “I want to think about it.” “What is there to think about?” “The commute,” Emily said tartly, knowing it was dangerous. It was a gamble, One that apparently paid off for Chase smiled. “Very well, but make your choice fast.” Emily slipped down from the booster chair, she felt her skirt, and the petticoats catch and get pulled up behind her, for a moment leaving her with her the back of her panties uncovered. No one could see it, but she knew it and could feel the cool air of the room on the top of her bare thighs. She quickly smoothed the skirt down over her bottom. Chase came around her desk, looked down at her. “That is my dress you know.” She smiled. “Pardon?” Emily asked. “You don’t seem to have brought a change of clothing.” Emily's eyes widened. Was she about to be stripped and sent away? A naked little, around so many giants? It was like throwing blood in the water with sharks. Chase put her hand on top of Emily’s head, gently ruffled her short hair. “Tell you what, I will give it to you as a gift.” “Thank you,” Emily said, relieved, and embarrassed at how grateful she was at that moment. “Is that a way to thank someone?” She took her hand from Emily’s head. Emily looked up at her, saw a displeased look on her face. “Thank you for the beautiful dress, Miss Morgan.” “In the future, you might want to add how much you love it.” Then she walked to her office door and opened it. “Lisa.” “Yes Miss Morgan,” Lisa said. “Please see Emily down to the street, and make sure she gets into a taxi.” “Pardon?” Lisa asked, surprise in her tone. When she stepped into Emily’s view, Emily could see the surprise mirrored on her face. “See that she gets into a taxi, make sure no one bothers her,” Chase said, tone firm. “Yes, Miss Morgan.” She nodded. “Emily, please come this way.” “I hope to hear from you soon Emily,” Chase said. “Yes Miss Morgan,” Emily said, getting out of the office as quick as she could. Lisa took her down to the lobby, and out onto the street. All the time Emily was sure Lisa was wondering why Chase was sending Emily away. Emily was not entirely certain herself. A black taxi pulled up in front of the building a few seconds before they reached the sidewalk. The driver got out, a tall inbetweener man, maybe almost seven feet tall. He looked at them and said, “Got a call to pick up an Emily Black?” “This is her,” Lisa said. The driver opened the passenger compartment door. A little-sized child’s seat awaited her. I hate you, Chase, Emily thought. Lisa picked her up, plopped her into the seat. The driver, with speed that spoke of skill, had the straps around her shoulders, and one up between her legs, the nylon edge of the belt against her bare thighs. There was a click as the buckles snapped together, and he gave the straps a quick, gentle pull that had her secured. The door closed. She heard Lisa say, “Bye bye sweetie.” Emily tried to undo the straps, but the buckles were somehow locked. When the driver got in, she said, “I am going to…” “I know where you are going,” he said. There was something ominous about that. The driver started the car and drove off. The seat had blocks of padded plastic on either side of her head, and she could not see past them. The straps were too tight for her to lean forward so she might look around them, and the seat was angled so she could not really see where they were going. They could be going anywhere. Chase had called for the taxi, told it where to go, Emily thought. Would she be driven to one of those schools she had heard of? Would the driver keep driving around until she wet herself and only then pull up to their destination? After years of working to avoid just this situation, she had walked into it. She tried to talk to the driver, to at least get an idea of what was going to happen, but he told her that he had to pay attention to the road and refused to be engaged. She lost track of time, almost panicking and when the car came to a stop, she had to bite down on a scream. The driver got out of the car. A few seconds later he had opened the passenger door. Reaching in, he loosened the straps, undid the buckles and smoothly lifted her from the seat and placed her on the ground. She was outside of her apartment building. “Have a nice day miss,” the driver said, leaving her there. He did not ask to be paid. Emily had to take a few deep breaths. Her knees felt weak. As the car pulled away, she walked slowly towards the doors of the building. Back in her apartment, changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Emily was able to relax slightly. She was still feeling a little panicked, and she was not happy, but she could think things through. She looked at the dress she had been wearing, in a pile on the floor. For a moment she thought to throw it out. However, she suspected treating a ‘gift’ poorly might come back and bite her in the ass. Plus she couldn’t bring herself to throw away something that Linda had made. She gathered it up and hung it in the closet, tossed the rest, panties, vest and stockings into her laundry hamper, then went to her computer. Think, she told herself. How did she get out of this? The panic in the taxi had almost sent her running. She had been looking for plane tickets, but she could not leave her friends behind, to be turned out of their homes by an angry Chase. Think, she once again told herself. If Chase did not own the building, then she would have no leverage. And Chase did not really own the building. Her investment management company did. That was the weak point. So she researched it. The trick was, she realised, to make the building seem unprofitable to the managers and, more importantly, their software. And she knew the software, had helped to write it, knew how to exploit it. As long as Chase had not directly instructed her managers to hold onto the building, it was possible. And Chase did not respect her; not as much as she should. She continued her research. She checked her finances. Four weeks. Maybe a day or two less, but four weeks. If it was even possible, she could do it in four weeks. She just had to stay out of diapers for four weeks. She stayed out of them (at least needing them) for four years in college. For twelve years before that in school. Four weeks would be a cakewalk she tried to tell herself. Emily did not really believe it. Chase Morgan was tough. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and asked herself if she could live with herself if she did not even try to help her friends. “God damn you and your noble spirit, Emily,” she said and reached for her phone, dialled in Chase’s number. She answered on the third ring. “Hello Emily dear,” she said. “I’ll work for you.” Chase was silent, and Emily pictured her in her head, smiling triumphantly. “I am so happy to hear that my dear.” “When do you want me to start Miss Morgan?” “Monday. I’ll send a car to pick you up at 8:30am. I’ll see that you get home after work. That way you don’t have to worry about the commute.” “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “I am looking forward to seeing you Emily,” she said, and then hung up. Emily put her phone down. Monday. That gave her an extra fours days. “Okay Miss Morgan, you have all the advantages, and I have to hope that it makes you sloppy.” She turned back to her computer. There was a lot of work to do. The four days that Chase had given to her passed by in a blur. Emily was working on setting the events in motion that would let her buy the building, and she also had a lot of projects that she had to finish. If she had to work for Chase, then she was not going to have much time to devote to her clients. She also, not that she wanted to, had to face the possibility that she could end up not being able to work at all. Of course, she could not tell her clients that she might end up in a nursery and would have a hard time getting work done between feedings and diaper changes. She got depressed just thinking about it. So instead she told them that something personal had come up and she would have less time to work for them. It would explain why she would be turning down jobs. Doing so did not make her happy. She had spent a lot of time building up her reputation as someone people could trust to get jobs done fast. She had sacrificed any real social life for her career. Going dark like she was going to do for the next four weeks would hurt that reputation. She would have to build it up again. Assuming she was able to. The least she could do was to make sure that were no jobs left unfinished. She hardly slept more than a few hours a night. When Monday came she stood on the curb in front of her building, dark circles under her eyes, dressed in a blue skirt, white blouse and grey blazer, a messenger bag over her shoulder. A professional enough looking outfit, and one that could be mistaken for a school uniform, though of no particular school. Her version of protective colouring, giants being less likely to snap you up if they thought you were going to school somewhere. At precisely 8:30 a large, black town car pulled up in front of her. The driver was a man about nine feet tall. “Miss Black, Miss Morgan sent me.” Emily nodded. “Thank you.” He opened the passenger door, revealing a child’s seat in the back. That came as no surprise to her. He picked her up, slipping his large hand under her bottom, and then put her gently in the seat. “Let me get you buckled up,” he told her, pulling the straps around her, and between her legs. It was always the strap that went between her legs that got to her, embarrassed her the most. It pushed the material of her skirt up between her legs, often left her panties exposed. “There we go,” the driver said, clipping the belts into the central lock, and she knew it was a lock. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, climbed in, starting up the car. The seat she was in, unlike the last one, actually let her see a little of where they were going. She watched again as they left the area of her home, passed through the undeveloped land and then into the city. This time the car did not stop in front of the building but pulled into the parking garage under it. The driver stopped the car and came around to release her from the child’s seat and help her out. He placed her on the garage floor, in front of a bank of elevators. “Miss Morgan is waiting for you.” He pressed the call button and then the button for the 23rd floor when the doors opened. “Have a good day, I will drive you home this evening.” “Thank you,” she told him as she stepped into the elevator, taking some solace in that she was supposed to go home that evening. The doors closed and the elevator rose to the 23rd floor. As before when doors opened, she found Chase waiting for her. “Emily, good morning,” she said sweetly. That was probably not how most bosses greeted their employees, she thought. “Good morning Miss Morgan.” “Come along, let’s talk in my office.” She turned and led the way, Emily following. So far it seemed very much like her first visit. She passed through the outer office where Lisa worked. Lisa was there, watching Emily as she walked past. “Good morning Miss Smith,” Emily said. Lisa nodded. “A pleasure to see you back.” They did not have to make any more conversation, for Chase went right into her office, closing the door once Emily was in. “Have a seat,” Chase said as she went to take a seat at her desk. A chair, with two small steps, had been put in the office in front of Chase’s desk. Design wise it was somewhat similar to a high chair, which Emily did not think was accidental. At least there was no food tray which could be used to lock her in, she thought, as she climbed into the seat, setting her bag in her lap. Once she and Chase were seated, Emily feeling a little ridiculous, Chase said, “I’ve given some thought to how to start you off. I am going to have you take part in an intern program we have.” Emily considered that for a moment, wondering if she had heard it right. “An intern? Seriously?” She regretted her incredulous tone as soon as it was out of her mouth. Chase did not really frown, but there was a slight downturn to her lips. “I am aware of your abilities, but have you ever worked in a company, as part of a team?” It was, Emily thought, a fair question. “In College there were team…” “Yes, I am sure there were,” Chase cut her off. “But that was school, this is real life. I will get the best idea of your ability to work for me and the best position for you by having you take part in the program.” There was a sense of finality in that statement that told Emily not to argue. “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “As it happens I had an intern start the program just last week. You will be able to work together, you can show me examples of teamwork.” “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “Well then, let’s handle the introductions before I give you the quick tour.” She stood. “You should feel grateful, seeing as the owner of the company is handling your familiarisation.” Emily, who was climbing down from her chair, looked over her shoulder and saw an expectant look on Chase’s face. She recalled what Chase had said about accepting a gift. As she reached the floor, she turned and said, “Thank you, Miss Morgan, I am very grateful for your kindness.” Chase smiled. Emily wanted to scream. Chase took her back to the elevator and then pressed the button for basement level 3. “When I introduce you to people I won’t use your last name,” Chase told her. “What? Why?” Emily did not like the idea of being denied her last name. “I don’t want it to get out Emily Black is working for me, not until I think of the best way to rub it in Lyle’s face.” Emily took some heart in that, hoping it meant that ultimately Chase wanted her in the office, not in a nursery. “This is pretty far down,” Emily said, her early hope fading a little. The doors opened on a mostly featureless, grey corridor. “Before I bought the building a security company used the basement and some of the lower floors. All very secure. I use it as temporary office space now.” “So you have to earn windows?” Chase smiled and looked down at her. “I suppose that is so.” Emily did not know what to think of that. She was not sure if it was ominous or not. “This way,” Chase said, turning right and walking down the corridor. Several doors along she stopped and opened the door. Then stood aside and indicated that Emily should enter first. Emily did, expecting something bad. What she got was a rather mundane office, lit by fluorescent lights, two desks pushed together. Behind one of the desk sat an older teenager, as she was seated Emily did not know how tall she was, but it was apparent she was an Amazon. And she was stacked. “What are you doing here?” the teen asked. Chase entered. “This is the other intern starting here today,” Chase said, stepping in behind Emily. The girl stood up. “Miss Morgan.” She was probably eight feet tall, perhaps a little taller, standing there with her enormous breasts. That is completely unfair, Emily thought. “Jessica, this is Emily. Emily, this is Jessica King.” “Hello Jessica,” Emily said. “Emily,” Jessica replied. Emily guessed she was confused. “Both of you will be working together during the duration of this program,” Chase told them. “Emily, Jessica is taking a two-month break from high school. She is a straight-A student and the president of her school’s Entrepreneur Club.” “Impressive,” Emily said. “Jessica, Emily has gotten gold stars in potty training and keeping her bed dry.” “Impressive,” Jessica said in the same tone that Emily had used. I hate them both equally, Emily thought. “Take a bit of a break Jessica. I am going to show Emily around and then bring her back here.” “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “This way Emily,” Chase said. The tour was pretty basic. Emergency exits, the cafeteria, the building’s day care centre on the first floor (a sunlit, bright space) and finally a bathroom two floors above basement level 3. “I’ve had a stool put in the cleaning closet for you, and the toilet at the last stall is sized for inbetweeners.” “Thank you,” Emily said, keeping her tone even. “And that concludes the tour. You know where my office is if you need to see me.” Emily frowned. “Don’t I need to sign some things, for payroll or something?” “Not to worry. I’ll be paying you out of my own pocket, just to keep things simple.” “That sounds like an allowance.” Chase smiled. “It does, doesn’t it.” Emily took a deep breath. “That’s fine.” “I am glad you approve.” Emily bit back a reply. “Let’s take you back to your office.” They returned the elevator and Chase explained the nature of the job. “You and Jessica have a weeks worth of work each. You’ll be analysing some collected data, seeing if you can find trends related to advertising my company has done.” The elevator door opened and Chase ushered Emily in. “You’ll be trying to find out what gets the best penetration.” “I understand,” Emily said, who thought it sounded pretty simple. “Good.” She pressed the button to take them down. In the office she found Jessica waiting, as well as a new chair behind her desk. “Here’s your username and password,” Chase said, handing Emily a folded piece of paper. “An email has been sent to you with the location of your work as well as instructions. If you have any questions just ask Jessica. This is the key to this office.” She handed over the small, brass coloured key. “I’ll be happy to help Emily,” Jessica said, her tone all treacle. “Thank you Jessica,” Chase said, and then left. Emily noticed that there was a keyhole on both sides of the door, guessed it had something to do with the security company that had once used it. She did not give it too much thought for she was alone with the teenage amazon, which was not good. Jessica reached down behind her monitor and brought forth two large cups of coffee, marked with the logo of a local chain. “I bought you a coffee since we’ll be working together.” She smiled brightly as she came around the desk. How stupid does she think I am, Emily wondered as she said, “Thank you very much.” Jessica held the cup in her left hand close towards Emily. Emily reached for the right which Jessica pulled back slightly and then almost thrust the other cup at her. Pretending not to have noticed she took the offered cup. “I didn’t know how you took it,” Jessica said, “so I brought cream and sugar. I know you littles like that. I take mine black.” Her tone took on a superior quality. “Black is fine,” Emily said as if she was trying to prove herself to the teen. Jessica smiled condescendingly. What a piece of work, Emily thought. Emily took her seat, using the built-in step, hung her bag off the back of the chair. Jessica sat beside her, their desks were close together. She put her cup on the desktop. Emily put her cup down, as close to Jessica’s as she could manage, then looked at the paper Chase had given her. Her username was ‘emily’ and the password was ‘IMBaby’. Emily sighed, then logged on and changed her password. “Jessica,” Emily said. Jessica looked over at her. “What?” “I am not sure I understand this. Can you show me?” Jessica smirked. “Of course Emily, I know this is hard for you.” “Thank you,” Emily said, colouring her tone with false relief. Jessica moved over to work on Emily’s computer, showing her where the files were and what they had to do. While she was condescending, Emily switched their coffee cups. “Thank you Jessica,” Emily said in her sweetest tones. “You’re so kind.” The smile Jessica gave her was so obvious in its contempt she might as well have called Emily ‘useless’. “You’re welcome Emily.” Emily took her seat and went to work, downloading some programs she had written a few years back to do similar jobs. She tweaked them and set them to processing the data Chase had given her. Emily pretended to drink her coffee, but really dumped it, bit by bit, into her garbage can when Jessica’s attention was focused on her work. For all she knew Jessica could have doctored both cups and trusted her greater size to protect her. When the larger woman looked over at her Emily could see her eyeing the decreasing liquid in the cup, her smile growing. Jessica was drinking the coffee that Emily had switched with her, seemingly unaware of the change. Emily hoped. After about an hour and a half of work, Emily had all the tweaks made to the program and had run the first days work through it. Now she was going to see what Jessica was trying. Emily got out of her chair, grabbed her bag, started towards the door. “Where are you going?” Jessica asked, her tone making it sound like ‘where do you think you are going’. Emily looked at her, her nervousness not entirely feigned. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, voice small. Jessica shook her head. “Oh Emily, you can’t just leave your work undone. As an adult, you need to have self-discipline.” “Self-discipline?” Emily asked, knowing exactly where it was going. “Exactly. As good employees we should stick with our work until it is finished. We can’t just go off to the,” she paused, “potty whenever we have a little twinge from our bladders.” I hate her, Emily thought. “You mean stay here until the work is done. No matter what?” “Exactly. In fact, I think we should lock that door and not leave unless our work is done. I can hold your key for you, if you want, just in case you think you might need a little incentive.” “So we’re locked in until the work is done?” Jessica nodded with a smile. “Exactly. That is the mature, adult thing to do.” “Oh. Well, I finished all of the work I was supposed to do today.” Jessica blinked. “What?” Emily nodded as she returned to her desk. “Look,” she said, bringing up the files. Jessica came over to look. “That’s not possible,” she said once she had seen the completed work. “It’s not?” Emily asked her. “Well, I guess it is, but, how?” “I'm good at this, I suppose. So, I can go to the bathroom.” Jessica scowled. Emily was a little worried that she might have pushed too hard. “Fine,” Jessica said. Emily nodded, picked up her bag, started towards the door. She stopped and looked back at Jessica. “Do you want me to lock you in?” “What?” Jessica asked, her tone snappish. Emily cowered, not entirely faked. “You said to lock the door and not leave until the work is done.” Jessica frowned. She reached into her pocket and took out a key. “Fine,” she growled, almost throwing the key at Emily. “Lock the door.” Emily almost dropped the key as she fumbled to catch it, using the action to hide a smile. God, Jessica was stupid. Or maybe she just had so little respect for Emily she never considered she was being played. “What’s your phone number?” Jessica asked. Emily told her, Jessica wrote it down. “I’ll call you if there is an emergency.” Emily nodded. “Well?” Jessica said, looking down her nose at her. “Don’t you have to go to the potty?” Emily nodded, scurried from the room, closed and locked the door behind her. “Dumb ass,” Emily said, heading down the corridor until she found a quiet nook she could hide out in. She sat down and took her laptop out of her bag. She joined the wireless network and continued the work. It was about thirty minutes later when her phone rang. She answered it. “Hello?” “Emily, I need you to let me out.” “Okay, I just have to tell Miss Morgan,” Emily said, trying to sound eager. “You’re talking to Miss Morgan?” There was uncertainty in Jessica’s tone. “Uh huh. I’ll just let her know…” “No, forget it.” Jessica hung up. Emily put the phone aside and went back to work. It was about twenty minutes later when it rang again. “Emily,” Jessica said as soon as Emily had answered. “I think I smell smoke. Get down here.” “I’ll pull the fire alarm and tell Miss Morgan,” she said. “What? No! I mean, I was joking. Stupid.” She hung up again. Twenty minutes later the phone rang again. Emily let it ring for a bit before picking it up. “Hello?” “You better get down here. And don’t say anything to Miss Morgan. I found something wrong with your work, so you better get it fixed right away.” “Oh no!” Emily nearly shouted. “Jessica, you are really nice. Thank you so very much.” “Yeah, yeah,” she said, trying to sound calm, but Emily could hear the desperation in her voice. “Just get down here right away.” Jessica cut the connection. Emily went back to work. Five minutes later the phone rang again. Emily answered it. “Where the hell are you stupid?” Emily had to hold the phone away from her ear as Jessica was yelling. Breathing hard she said, “Couldn’t reach,” deep breaths, “elevator buttons,” deep breath, “couldn’t ask anyone,” deep breath, “to press them.” More deep breaths. “Running down the stairs.” “You idiot. I got to… Get down here.” It almost sounded as if she had slammed her phone against something. Emily worked for another minute, then put her computer back into the bag. She returned to the office. She unlocked the door, and while expecting it, she was almost hit by the door as Jessica pushed through it in her dash towards the elevators. Hand pressed into her crotch, taking small, quick steps, Emily did not think Jessica was going to make. Following at a distance, she caught a scent of flatulence in the air. She saw Jessica standing in front of the elevators, dancing from foot to foot, looking up at the indicators. Emily did not think the elevators were close as Jessica turned, still dancing, now two hands pressed between her legs, and pushed through the door to the stairs. Emily shook her head and went back to the office. “Idiot,” she said with a smile. Chase had had issues with her interns before, but Jessica had presented her with a new one. She pushed open the door to the first aid room and walked in. Jessica was sitting on the rooms cot, a blanket pulled around her shoulders. She had managed to soil all her clothing, except for her bra. It was a little impressive. “Miss Morgan, I can explain…” Jessica began as soon as she had entered. Chase fixed her with a stare. “Explain why you were sitting in your own mess, a few steps from the bathroom, crying?” “I wasn’t crying! I was yelling. I was angry.” “You should be ashamed.” Jessica flinched. “It wasn’t my fault,” she said in a small voice. Chase reached for Jessica’s purse. Jessica looked like she was going to try to grab it, but another glare from Chase made her withdraw. In the purse, Chase found a small bottle. She held it up, shook it. She also produced a credit card receipt that indicated the bottle had been purchased from a nearby pharmacy a few hours prior. “You’re lucky,” Chase said as she looked at the bottle, reading the writing on it. “Due to your size, there is unlikely to be any long-term effects. Someone smaller might not have fared so well.” “That was the idea,” Jessica said petulantly. “I am kicking you out of the intern program,” Chase told her. “What? It was that stupid little. She poisoned my coffee and locked me in the room and…” A single step brought Chase to stand over Jessica. Her hard gaze made the teenager scrunch back against the wall, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “You will not ever say that again, to anyone,” Chase told her. “What? But she…” “Never!” Chase snapped, and Jessica whimpered. “If you bring this up before a family court I guarantee that you will be the one sent off to a reform school. Do you understand me?” There were tears in Jessica’s eyes as she squeaked, “Yes Miss Morgan.” Chase felt bad for a moment. Jessica was barely more than a child, and browbeating her like that was cruel. But she was not about to chance losing Emily. She opened the door, reached out to a shelf and grabbed a pair of pink track pants and a white t-shirt which she tossed to Jessica. “I will tell your school that you were a little too immature for this opportunity, and that is all I will tell them.” Jessica caught the clothing and began to slip on the t-shirt. “If anyone finds out what happened you're are welcome to tell them you were trying to slip something to a little but stupidly mixed it up, which is probably the truth anyway.” Having pulled on the shirt, Jessica looked at her, actually pouting. Chase shook her head. It always bothered her to meet an Amazon who was not ready to be a grown-up. Next, she tossed a tied up plastic bag at Jessica. “Your clothing. You’ll need to wash it. Or throw it out.” Jessica blushed. “Get out of my company,” Chase said in parting as she walked towards the elevators. Now it was time to deal with Emily. She was looking forward to that. She had been too lenient on the girl. By the time she was finished Jessica would not be the only one crying. Her resolve faltered slightly when she entered the office and found Emily over her keyboard, focused on her work. She coughed. Emily looked up. Chase was glad she looked a little uncertain. “I’m afraid that Jessica will not be returning.” “I hope it is nothing serious,” Emily said, face revealing nothing. “She said that you locked her in this room.” “She told me to.” “That seems highly unlikely.” “It does.” Emily brought out a smartphone. “But as it happens I have a recording.” “Of course you do,” Chase said, walking over to the desk. The phone played back a conversation between Emily and Jessica, and, as Emily said, Jessica did make the request. “You are far too clever.” “I don’t know what you mean.” Same damn dead-pan innocent look. “You’ll have to finish her work as well as your own. Perhaps I will keep you locked in here until you get it all done.” Chase leaned forward over the desk. Emily shifted back slightly, but before Chase could do anything else, she said, “It is all finished.” Chase straightened. “What?” “I finished all my work and Jessica’s work. I felt bad for her.” Chase did not contest that statement but came around the desk to look at the monitor. She took the mouse from Emily and clicked through the files. “Too damn clever by far.” She looked at Emily, caught a flash of a smile that disappeared as if it never was. Chase realised she had never seen Emily smile before. It as either the neutral expression, or one of dread, and she knew she often saw anger dancing in her eyes, but never a smile. Chase wanted to see that smile again, as often as possible. “You exhaust me Emily. Take the rest of the day off. I’ll call the car. In fact, take tomorrow and the next day off while I think of what next to do with your internship.” She pulled her phone from her jacket, paused and then said, “Without pay of course.” “Of course,” Emily agreed readily. Chase wanted to say more, but at the moment she would give the victory to Emily. She took her to the elevator and up to the garage. Chase put Emily in the car’s child seat, taking a bit of joy in making sure her skirt was pulled up, displaying her panties, just before she pulled the straps tight and locked them. She smiled at Emily’s blush. “Try to be a good girl,” she told her and patted her on the head before closing the door. “Take her home,” she told the driver. As the car drove off Emily tried to shift about so she could pull her skirt back down. She hated the idea of anyone looking down into the car and seeing her exposed like that. However, Chase had done too good a job and eventually, Emily gave up. One day was done, and two days off. That was not too bad. She was off to a good start. She did feel a little bad for what she had done to Jessica. Just a little bit. Jessica had brought on herself, but still… it had been like shooting fish in a barrel. Better her than me, Emily thought, sitting back in her chair, relaxing as much as she could. If no one asked for it back, she was going to keep Jessica’s key as a trophy. Chase sat at her desk, the work that Emily had done on her monitor. “Am I interrupting anything?” Richard asked. She looked up from her monitor, saw Richard leaning into her office. “Nothing vital, what’s up?” He came into the office, closed the door. “There are some details about the Jones deal I want to confirm, but I am curious about the incident with your intern.” “Which one?” Richard took a seat. “The real one.” Chase smiled. “Jessica was not as mature as I would have hoped.” He nodded. “I suppose that is one way to put it. Listen, I’m kind of wondering what you are doing with Emily Black.” “What I am doing?” “What do you want?” Chase sat back in her seat. “What I want is to wake up every morning, stretch, and hear Emily calling or crying in her nursery cause she needs her diaper changed.” He nodded. “Understandable, so I wonder why she isn’t in a nursery.” “I don’t have a nursery yet.” He laughed. She turned her monitor. “Take a look at this.” “What’s this?” He leaned forward. “My intern test.” He looked at the monitor. “The one that is two weeks of work that you give them a week to do?” “Yes. It is always a good way to gauge how they handle such things.” “You just like being cruel.” Chase laughed. “So what am I supposed to be looking at?” “Emily finished all her work, and Jessica’s. Four weeks of work, in less than half a day.” He looked away from the monitor and up at her. “Is it any good?” “Spot checking it, everything looks good so far.” “That is…” “Impressive?” “I was going to say creepy. Are you sure she is not a robot sent back from the future?” “I can’t discount it, but I think it unlikely.” “How?” “She probably wrote a program in the past for this type of work, then downloaded it and ran all the files through it.” “Okay, creepy but impressive.” “So, yes, I want her safely in a nursery, but I also want Emily Black doing things like this.” She waved her hand at the monitor. “You know what they say about having your cake and eating it too,” Richard said. “I prefer the Asian saying, that the person who tries to catch two rabbits will catch neither.” Richard seem to think about that. “Why?” he asked after several seconds. “Because while I can’t figure out how to have my cake and eat it too, I think if I am clever enough I can chase and catch two rabbits.” “I think you are wasting your time, but it is your time to waste. So good luck.” “Thank you.” “Now, about the Jones deal…” Emily had appreciated the time off. She was not able to do anything to speed up her plan to buy the building, but she did manage to take a few small jobs as Emily Black, jobs she could quickly turn over. Both good for her bank account (which was going to suffer due to her plan) and for her reputation. She received a message from Lyle telling her he was sorry to hear that she had personal issues and offering any help he might. He even invited her to a party he was having for his ‘girls’, sure she would enjoy it, At first, she was worried he might have heard something from Chase but discounted that. He probably just thought that any Amazon would enjoy seeing littles in such a situation. Jokes on you, she had thought as she had sent off a polite message thanking him and declining his kind offer. On Thursday morning she was outside of her building so she could be picked up and taken into the city. The driver pressed the elevator buttons for her, but when the door opened she was not presented with Chase’s familiar form. No one was awaiting her. She wondered if the change in the procedure meant anything. Then she told herself that this was only her third time there, and she could not make any generalisations. Walking the hallways, she made it to Chase's office and looked in. Chase and Lisa were leaning over Lisa’s desk, talking. Chase noticed Emily first. “Come in Emily,” she said. “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “I was very impressed with your work the other day.” “Thank you.” “So impressed that I want you on my health insurance program.” “Normally you have to be working here three months before you are eligible for insurance coverage,” Lisa told her, a small sniff suggesting what she thought of Emily’s ‘jumping the cue’. “I already have health insurance,” Emily said. Chase smiled. “I want you to have insurance I know can take care of you.” Emily was about to say that she had never had a problem with coverage but realised the pointlessness of it. Chase wanted this for reasons Emily knew she was not going to care for them. “You’ll need a medical exam, Lisa has kindly offered to take you to the clinic.” Chase had put a subtle emphasis on the word ‘kindly’ so Emily thanked her. Then she asked, “Clinic?” “Just a facility that is familiar with the medical requirements of littles,” Chased told her with a smile. That Emily did not like. Perhaps it showed on her face, for she said, “It is just an exam, nothing else.” Oddly enough Emily suspected that part of that was directed at Lisa. She either had to run or see this examination through. If she was not on the 23rd floor, she might have run. “Take care of Emily,” Chase told Lisa. “Yes, Miss Morgan. Come with me Emily,” Lisa said as she picked up her purse from her desk. “Yes, Miss Smith.” “I will see you when you get back,” Chase told Emily. Lisa took her hand when they were in the elevator, holding it tightly when the doors opened on the lobby. She walked Emily across the floor towards the doors, pausing to talk to the receptionists. They were the same ones that Emily had met when she had come there the first time. “Well hello again sweetie,” the blonde said, and then asked Lisa, “Is she yours?” “No. Miss Morgan is looking out for her.” “Ohhh, I’m so jealous,” the brunette said. “Do you wish Miss Morgan was looking out for you too?” the Blonde asked her. She laughed. “Well, depending on the type of ‘looking out’,” she told her companion with a wink. Emily wondered if they thought this was going over her head. She supposed that Chase was an attractive woman. “I’ll let you two gossip, Emily has an appointment I need to get her too.” “Hope to see you soon Sweetie,” the blonde said. “Have a good day,” the brunette told her. Lisa took her out the doors, to the front of the building where a taxi was waiting for them. Of course, there was a child seat in the back seat. Lisa got her settled and strapped in and then circled around to get in the other door. She gave the driver an address, and in a few seconds they had merged with traffic and were on their way. Lisa took a tablet from her purse and started working on something. Emily did not necessarily want to talk to her, but it was a little boring to sit there in silence. About thirty minutes later, in a less urban area of the city, the cab pulled up in front of a single story building, next to a small park. When Emily was taken out of the car seat, she could see the sign in front of it. ‘Westburne Paediatric Clinic’ and just below it in slightly smaller letters, ‘Specialists in Little Medicine’. Again, Emily was seized with a desire to bolt, but Lisa had a tight hold on her hand. As she was led up the brick path to the front doors all, she could think of how embarrassing it was. Taken to a paediatrician; Chase was a jerk. There was a waiting room, about three-quarters of the chairs, occupied. There was about a half and half split between actual children (all of them giants) and littles. She felt her cheeks grow warm with a flush, for the littles were all diapered, all in embarrassingly childish and infantile clothing. With her red, knee length skirt and white blouse, she looked positively adult by comparison. “Chase Morgan made an appointment for Emily,” Lisa said to the receptionist. Emily was a little annoyed that her last name seemed to be unimportant (though Chase had already told her that she did not want ‘Black’ being used, but that was at the company) and she fanned that annoyance into anger. A carefully controlled anger, but anger nonetheless. She had no time to be embarrassed. She had to be aware, and careful. The state of the other littles should be a warning to her. The receptionist had looked up the appointment information for she said, “Yes, here it is. Please have a seat, a nurse will call for you soon.” Lisa, still holding Emily’s hand, walked to one of the chairs. She then pulled Emily up into her lap. Emily did not argue there were other chairs available, for the moment willing to put up with it. From her place on Lisa’s lap, she regarded the other patients, careful not to stare. She suspected about half of the littles there had accepted their new status, and the others, judging by the discomfort they were showing, the embarrassment, had not. Emily had done her best and was doing all she could, to not end up in that situation, but she wondered which would be better. As hard as it would be to live with the shame, at least she would be able to try to fight back (metaphorically of course) and escape that fate. But sometimes it seemed that the littles who had accepted their status were happy. Maybe some littles really did seek such a state, as the giants seemed to tell themselves. Well, not her. She noticed that Lisa had been bouncing her softly on her knee, probably for a minute or two. It was not as is she was a fussy child needing to be soothed. How very annoying. “I am ready for Emily,” a nurse said, coming out of the back. Lisa put Emily back on the ground, took her hand, and led her to the nurse. The nurse was a shade taller than Lisa, a pretty woman, probably in her late twenties, dressed in a white tunic and pants. “This is Emily,” Lisa said. The nurse bent down and gently ruffled her hair. “Hello Sweetie, I’m Nurse Brenda. Now don't you worry Emily, you have nothing to be scared of.” Her tone was patronising. Emily could have said some things, most of them bordering on rude, but she just said, “Yes Nurse Brenda.” Brenda straightened. “Bring her this way,” she said to Lisa. They passed through the door into the back of the clinic. There was a corridor that led to the left and right, and one that extended in front of them. There were lots of doors, opened and closed, and she could see children, no, littles, being led between those rooms, mostly waddling in thick diapers, wearing silly little gowns covered in cartoonish prints. She passed a few rooms, one or two open doors. She made it a point to take quick looks, to get a better idea of what the place was like. Brenda opened a door, let Lisa usher Emily in, then closed the door behind herself as she entered. It was an examination room, much like many others Emily had been in, though the low shelf by the examination table, filled with diapers, was not something she was used to. “Get her undressed please,” Brenda said to Lisa. Emily started to unbutton her own blouse, but Lisa knelt down and brushed her hands away. “We have to do what the nurse says,” she told Emily with a smile. This was another fight that Emily could not win, so she let Lisa undress her. When her skirt was slid down to puddle at her feet, Brenda said, “She’s not wearing a diaper.” Lisa nodded as she skimmed the panties down to Emily’s ankle. “She’s potty trained.” Emily felt her cheeks grow hot. Potty trained. Not, ‘doesn’t need diapers’. Wasn’t it enough that Lisa had her there naked? She knew the answer to that. “Well, we’ll have to put her in a diaper. Clinic policy.” “Of course,” Lisa said, gleefully. You bitch, Emily thought. Brenda grabbed Emily up under the arms, lifted her with dizzying speed, and without so much as a ‘by your leave’, lay Emily on her back on the padded top of the exam table. “Can I have a pink diaper?” Emily asked, giving Brenda a wide-eyed ‘puppy dog’ gaze. “Why of course sweetie. I know little girls like you like pink.” She grabbed one of the pink diapers from the shelf, shook it open with a soft rustle of plastic, and then took Emily’s ankles in her large hand and lifted her bottom off the exam table she could slide the diaper under her. “Even when you potty train them they still want their cute diapers,” Brenda said to Lisa, almost as if Emily was not there. “Yes,” Lisa said, sounding doubtful. As Brenda lowered Emily onto the diaper padding, Emily looked over at Lisa, saw her looking back with a puzzled look, as if she was trying to figure out what Emily was doing. Brenda lightly dusted her with powder, then pulled the diaper up between Emily’s legs, adjusted it a little, then tapped it tightly up. “There we go sweetie,” she said, patting the front of it. “Thank you, Nurse Brenda,” Emily said sweetly. “Oh, you are welcome sweetie. Such a polite little girl.” Brenda picked her up and put her on the floor, then got one of the gowns and had Emily raise her hands so she could slide it over her, before tying it off. While the gown had hardly covered the diapers of any of the other littles that Emily had seen, she was actually small enough so that the bottom of the gown dropped low enough to almost obscure her diaper. Almost. Lisa pulled Emily back onto her lap, bouncing her again on her knee, eliciting an almost inaudible crinkle from the diaper. Brenda picked up a tablet and began asking questions about Emily’s medical history. Lisa, of course, did not know, so Emily had to answer first, and Lisa repeated it. Brenda did not enter anything until Lisa had said it, almost as if Emily were not speaking. Of course, that was the point. The clear message was that anything she said did not matter. Emily wondered how long it would take before that sort of treatment began to make her feel as if she really had no voice. She really hated the place. Once the questions were asked, Brenda weighed her, measured her and then said that Emily’s vision would be tested next. They left the room, walking through the halls, the littles on display Emily thought, to another examination room. The ‘parents’ of the littles likely were paying extra for such treatment. Brenda left them the with the eye doctor, whose name Emily did not learn. He gave her a full eye exam, made notes, and then spoke to Lisa. “Her eyes are fine, she might need glasses in a few years, if she needs to read,” he said, the last with a soft laugh. “But as long as the letters are on play blocks she will see them fine.” He smiled down at Emily and ruffled her hair. She hated him. Next was the room for the hearing test. They paused outside of the room, while another patient finished up. In another exam room, close by, a little was sobbing softly, laying on her stomach on an exam table, and enema tube in her bottom. Emily tried not to stare, but she saw the red of the little’s bottom, suggesting a recent spanking. She shifted her gaze away, heard the nurse giving the enema saying something about crybabies needing to be punished. Another little passed, a man, probably in his mid-twenties, waddling by, his diaper crinkling loudly. He was blushing from his head to his toes. Lisa knelt down and patted Emily' passed bottom. She said softly, “This diaper is pretty thin. No waddle and hardly a crinkle.” “It’s pink,” Emily said innocently. Lisa frowned, lips pursed, then sighed and straightened. She might have said ‘too clever’, but it was too soft for Emily to hear. She had her hearing test, and then a dentist took a look at her teeth. “Remember to take good care of your teeth,” she told Emily. “Or maybe you’ll lose them.” Emily felt a little sick, wondered if some littles sitting in the very chair she was in had had their teeth taken out, for a more infantile smile for their giant ‘parents’. She hoped not. On their way to the next examination, Emily peeked into a small room that looked more like an office, saw who she assumed was a doctor talking to a man and his ‘child’. She could not take a good look, but she took in as much as she could without anyone noticing. In the next exam room, Emily had to endure a gynaecological exam, feet up in stirrups, opened diaper beneath her bottom. She might have taken pride in what was an adult exam, but it was too damn uncomfortable. Then the nurse, a big, heavy-set woman, lowered the stirrups and flipped her over on her stomach, sliding her and the diaper farther up the table, so she was still lying upon it. “We’ll take your temperature now,” she said, no-nonsense tone. Emily did not appreciate what that meant until she saw the woman take a thermometer, it’s size almost obscene, from a jar of Vaseline. She had a moment to try to relax, knowing it was going to happen even if she protested (and protesting would not stop it, likely make it worse). There was a tiny bit of comfort in that there were several other even thicker thermometers in the vaseline and Emily was getting the smallest. “Here we go,” the nurse said. She spread Emily’s buttocks and placed the end of the thermometer against her hole for several moments, long, long moments, then slid it in. Emily was not happy. The nurse took her time, gently patting her bottom, pressing the thermometer farther and farther in, almost as if she expected Emily to enjoy it. Was she supposed to enjoy it? What the hell was wrong with the woman? Did she really think that she was going to get off on being violated by a too large rectal thermometer? Later Emily would consider that some littles, with their genitalia sealed up in plastic and padding, with hands often imprisoned in mitts, might indeed find the embarrassing treatment pleasurable, having few other options. That thought would leave her depressed for hours when she had it. However, at that moment, lying on her belly, positioned on an open diaper that she had recently been wearing, a glass rod up her bottom, all she could feel was embarrassment bordering on complete humiliation. Eventually, the nurse seemed to think that the thermometer had been in her long enough, and she pulled it out, slowly. “A healthy temperature,” the nurse declared, before wiping the thermometer off with a tissue, the tissue going in the garbage the thermometer into a beaker of alcohol. “Now we just need a little blood. Let’s sit you up.” She did not give Emily a chance to sit up on her own, but lifted her, slid the diaper around, and then sat Emily atop of it. Emily was careful to keep the deadpan expression on her face, though it was hard, angry as she felt about her treatment, and about the superior smile she saw on Lisa’s face. Fortunately, the anger did not blind her to what the nurse was doing. She saw the woman look at two boxes of needles. She watched the nurse take a pair of glasses from her smock, put them on, then carefully check both boxes. Emily did not trust it. The nurse selected a needle, prepared a holder, then put a tourniquet around Emily’s arm. “Don’t worry sweetie,” she said, rubbing a spot on the inside of Emily’s arm with an alcohol swab. “It will just be a little prick.” Emily had had blood taken before, and she was not a fan of it, but she knew it would not hurt that much. But she still held herself ready, and when the needle slid in, feeling as if the nurse was trying to jam a blunt piece of metal into her arm, she did not cry out. She did not say, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ She did not treat the nurse to a blast of salty language that would put a sailor to shame. She sat there, careful not to grit her teeth against the pain, trying to look as if nothing was wrong. The nurse actually frowned. You god damned bitch, Emily thought. Still frowning, the nurse turned the needle ever so slightly — it hurt like hell — and slid the blood tube into the opposite end of the holder, drawing a vial full of blood. She put the tube aside and then pulled the needle free. Emily wanted to scream. Looking down at her arm Emily expected to see a bloody, jagged hole, but all there was was a small drop of blood on her arm, and that was quickly covered with a piece of gauze and a bandage. The nurse looked back at the boxes of needles, then at the needle itself a moment before she disposed of it in a sharps container. “Well, you were very good in not crying,” the nurse said, and then, like an actress who had flubbed her lines and was trying to get back on track, “but if you had been a crybaby, you would have been punished.” Emily recalled the little getting the enema. “Yes nurse,” she said politely. “Let’s get you back in a diaper and then you can see the doctor,” she said, reaching towards the diaper filled shelf, her hand going to another of the pink diapers. Emily had one more card to play, and she said, tone almost petulant, “I don’t want a thick diaper.” The nurse paused. “Well little missy,” her hand shifted to the side, grabbing a thick white diaper, “what you want does not matter.” She pushed Emily onto her back, lifted her by her ankles, swept the old diaper away, and proceeded to diaper Emily in the extra thick padding and loudly crinkling plastic of the new one. Emily knew it was not the same as having a pillow wrapped between her legs, but damn if it did not feel that way. The nurse lifted her off the table and placed her on the floor. Emily could see that Lisa was looking down at her, confusion on her face. She had apparently stumped Lisa again. Emily pulled futilely at the gown for a moment, but there was no way it was going to cover the diaper. “The doctor will want to speak with you,” the nurse told Lisa. “Please come with me.” Lisa took Emily’s hand, leading her after the nurse. Emily found she could not bring her thighs together and was forced to waddle. It would probably be easier to crawl, which she supposed was the idea. Lisa's hold on her hand helped her keep up, but more than once it was only that hold that kept her from falling. And Lisa knew it. The nurse showed them to a small office, and it was as Emily had supposed, the same room in which she had earlier seen the doctor talking to a man. “The doctor will be with you soon,” the nurse said, giving Lisa a smile. Then Emily and Lisa were alone. Lisa took a seat and pulled Emily up onto her lap. Emily did not appreciate it, but the clinic was a little cool, and the gown thin and Lisa was warm. Lisa began to bounce her on her knee again, but the diaper was crinkling loudly, and when she stopped Emily assumed it was because the noise was annoying her. Instead, she began to hum, gently playing with Emily’s hair. She had what Emily had dubbed ‘little fever’, and she felt bad for the next ‘unattended’ little that Lisa might meet. The doctor came in a few minutes later. She was an older woman, probably taller than Lisa, but she had a slight stoop, and it was hard to be sure. She introduced herself to Lisa as Doctor Green. “Well,” Doctor Green said, swiping her fingers across a tablet, “Emily is as healthy as a little horse.” She smiled down at Emily and reached out to gently squeeze her nose. “Just a little healthy horsie.” Emily did her best to look amused. However, it was a wasted effort, for Doctor Green had already turned her attention back to Lisa. “We should get the blood work back tomorrow. I don’t expect to see any problems, but I’ll let Miss Morgan know, one way or another.” “Thank you,” Lisa answered. “The only issue I have is with the amount of alcohol she drinks. Not that it is a lot mind you,” she said, fixing Lisa with her stare, “but as a rule, my patients don’t drink any, and I think that would be for the best.” “I’ll let Miss Morgan know,” Lisa said. Go to hell you busybody, Emily thought. The doctor folded the cover over the tablet. “That is it. You can get her dressed. I would like to see her again in six months.” She stood. “You can make an appointment now, or we can call Miss Morgan. Just let the receptionist know what you want.” Then Doctor Green was gone. Lisa slid Emily off her lap, and then reached for her clothing, which she had been carrying all along. It turned out getting Emily dressed proved a challenge to Lisa. She could not button up the lower buttons of Emily’s blouse, as the diaper was too thick, and no matter how hard she tried the skirt was a lost cause. With a sigh Lisa looked about the office, perhaps hoping to spot a thinner diaper, but as Emily had noticed earlier, the office had none. She looked Emily, frowned, and then tore the tapes open and tossed the diaper into the trash. “Get dressed,” she said, pushing Emily’s clothing at her. Emily was careful not to show any relief. It had been a risk, for it had been possible that Lisa would have just led Emily out in the too thick diaper wearing only a partially buttoned blouse. However, Emily had suspected that she would not. She was beginning to think she understood Chase’s plan. They left the clinic, Lisa telling the receptionist to call Miss Morgan when it came time for Emily’s next appointment. They waited for the taxi that Lisa called, all the while Lisa watching her with what Emily thought was a judgemental gaze. Another ride in a car seat, back to the office. Lisa paused in the lobby to talk to the receptionists. She learned the blonde was named Claire, the Brunette Kristen. They asked about Emily’s checkup when Lisa mentioned it, and Claire asked if she had gotten a needle and if she had been brave. “Yes Miss Claire,” Emily had said as she hoped one day Claire got blood taken with one of those needles. They arrived back in Chase’s office suite a little afternoon. Chase came from her office, smiled. “Someone is very healthy,” she said. “You’ll have full health coverage without a problem.” “Thank you,” Emily said. “Will it require going to that clinic?” Chase smiled. “It does specialise in little care.” Emily did not say what she thought that was worth. She also knew she would not be giving up her own health care anytime soon. “The doctor said she drinks too much.” Lisa’s tone was just as disapproving as the doctor’s had been. What a snitch, Emily thought. “Well, I am sure that Emily will think about that.” “I’ll try,” Emily said, and then to Lisa. “Thank you very much for taking me to the clinic. I know you are busy with your own work.” Lisa looked a little surprised, and Chase frowned. Emily supposed she had taken the wind from her sails, thanking Lisa before she was told to. Lisa got over her surprise and said, “You’re welcome Emily.” She looked over at Chase. She thought about Chase’s game. Chase wanted Emily Black to work for her, so she was not going to make the first move to step Emily back into a second babyhood, but if it happened…. Well, Chase would likely be happy to offer comfort and take charge. However, Chase did not seem to be really upset that Emily had returned, undiapered. She wondered if just maybe Chase had not known what kind of things happened at that clinic. “Emily, I want you to help Lisa out for the rest of the day, tomorrow as well. It will give you a good feel for the company.” “Yes Miss Morgan,” Emily said. Case sent Emily home a little early so she could talk to Lisa. “So, tell me how Emily did?” she asked, leaning on Lisa’s desk. “She got all the work done, she takes direction well, does not ask many questions, I have nothing bad to say about the job she did.” Chase thought that Lisa might not have liked admitting that. Nodding Chase said, “Yes, yes, but tell me about the clinic.” Lisa almost giggled. “She was wearing this one diaper that was so thick I thought she was going to fall over and have to crawl.” Chase realised clapping her hands together happily was not going to look so professional. She simply nodded. “She needed to wear a diaper?” “Well, didn’t need it, just a clinic rule.” “I would have liked to see that.” “Well,” Lisa said, “I did try to keep her in it… but I couldn’t get her clothes on over it, and you said not to let anything too overt happen.” “That’s fine,” Chase said, waving a hand to dismiss the concern. “She’s too clever you know.” “I suspect I know, but tell me.” Lisa explained Emily’s ‘trick’ with the diapers. Chase had to laugh. “She is smart.” “A little like that does not need to be smart when she is so cute.” Lisa was almost pouting. Chase nodded. “There is something to say about smart and cute.” Emily had not looked forward to a weekend so much since she had left high school. It was not so much that the Friday at work had been all that terrible. She had just worked with Lisa and Chase on various projects. The most challenging thing about Friday was the bathroom up on the twenty-third floor. None of the toilets had really been suitable for anyone under seven feet. Using them had required a little climbing and precarious perching with the real danger of falling, either off or in. Still, better than the alternative of asking for help. She was pretty sure that help would mean having Chase or Lisa sitting her on the toilet and remaining in the stall with her, and would eventually lead to a child’s potty. It was possible she was paranoid, but she did not think so. Plus she had also been going ‘commando’ on Friday, as it was as far from the diapers of the day before she could get. The evening after the clinic she had been bothered, no longer needing to be focused. Even a pair of panties had reminded her a little too much of a diaper. But now she had a weekend to herself. She spent the morning catching up on chores, in the past done in fits and starts over the whole week. She also had a few quick jobs and bug fixes for clients. It was early in the afternoon when she went down to Linda’s apartment (after looking about for any cars that might belong to bigs). Linda welcomed Emily in and one of the first things Emily noticed was the nine-foot-tall dress form in the corner of the room. “Some of your larger clients asking you to make clothing for them?” Emily asked. Linda put a cup of tea down in front of Emily. “Yes, not a lot yet, but enough that I needed to invest in that dress form. Actually, what I’ve started getting request for are matching outfits for the children clothing I am making.” “Matching outfits?” Emily suddenly pictured Chase wearing the sailor dress from the other day. She almost shot tea from her nostrils, which would have been unpleasant. Linda, perhaps seeing where Emily’s thoughts were going, said, “Not matching styles, but themes. Like,” and again it seemed Linda had some inkling about Emily’s thoughts, “those outfits I sent to Chase, did you see the sailor dress I made.” “I think I saw it,” Emily said into her tea to hide her blush. “Well, I might, say, make a white sundress with black anchor embroidery along the hem of the skirt. So it would be obvious the outfits went together. That reminds me, you are working for Chase now, do you think you could ask her something?” Emily had not been able to keep people from noticing that she was picked up and dropped off every day by a big, black car, so there had been no use in trying to hide she was working for Chase; though she had told her neighbours that it was possibly only temporary. “Maybe, what?” “Ask her if she would like some matching outfits for those I sent her. I think Chase is a bit of a mover and shaker. I think if she were to take an interest it would help things take off.” Emily really wanted to tell Linda that she did not think Chase would be interested, she almost lied and said Chase had bought the outfits for a friend and would not need any kind of matching outfit. She did not, mostly because she wanted Linda to do well, and partly because she figured a lie like that might come back at her. “I’ll let her know. She might be interested.” She actually probably would be, Emily could almost envision that telling smile on her face. “Thanks. You know, I was thinking about making you a sundress.” “I…” “Candy told me you don’t care for them,” Linda said, not giving Emily a chance to respond, “but I thought if I add a nice jacket to it, with a conservative cut, you could wear it to work. We are getting into the hot summer now. It will look good.” Emily thought about it, picturing it in her head. She supposed it would look nice. “Alright, I’ll give it a chance.” “Let me get my measuring tape.” Linda was smiling. Once she finished up at Linda’s Emily went out of the building, across the street, to Candy’s. She found the mechanic working on a motorcycle of giant proportions. Even though she knew who it had to belong to she asked, “Is that the…” “An old war Valkyrie, the thing has to be more than seventy years old, but all the construction is bulletproof, not literally of course. Had to be terrifying to ride on one of these when people were shooting at you.” Emily stepped up onto the stand the bike was mounted to. The seat was almost as tall as she. “How will you ride this?” Candy shook her head. “I won’t. You’d have to top seven feet, and even then your toes would be reaching. I got a friend who can ride it for me, I’ll ride along on the back when it comes time to test it out. Not the best way to do it, but I’ll be able to hear the engine and get a feel for the vibrations. Help me strip this engine down?” “Sure,” Emily said. Candy handed parts to Emily, who cleaned them and then laid them out carefully on a work table. Along the way she learned what each piece was called and what it did, as well as what it might cost to replace if it was damaged. “I can make some of the parts myself, if I have to, the original is better,” Candy told her. “Can you get originals?” Emily asked, cleaning the years of gunk from a piston ring. “If I can it won’t be cheap.” They worked for a few hours, had the engine completely stripped down and laid out on the table. “That’s a good days work,” Candy said, wiping her hands on a rag, leaving oily streaks on it. Emily nodded, looking at all the parts. “Gonna come to Sharky’s tonight?” Candy asked as she tossed the rag aside. Emily recalled the doctor from the clinic. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” “Good.” Candy smiled. “You better wash your hands, I got some soap at the sink that will cut that grease.” Emily looked down at her hands, saw how black they were. “Right. Thanks.” Not a bad day, Emily thought as she washed her hands. Chase was also busy on that weekend. She had called her realtor to talk about buying a new home. They met in Chase’s apartment, Maggie laying out various pages on the kitchen table. “So why are you looking for a new house? I thought you loved this place.” “I do, but, I think I might need a little more space.” She could not help but smile. “I think I might want a nursery.” “What?” Maggie looked up. “Are you expecting?” “No, but maybe adopting.” “Maybe?”
 “It’s complicated.” “Complicated? If you say so. I contacted the building’s management firm, in case you wanted to stay. You should have bought the penthouse when you had the chance, I don’t think the current owner is ever going to sell.” “I didn’t need the penthouse when I moved in. Anything else in the building?” “Not that is really much larger than what you currently have.” Chase sat back. “So I’ll have to leave.” Maggie nodded. “Anything close?” “The big red brick high-rise, about a block down from here, know it?” “I’ve seen it. Looks nice.” “It is. One of the biggest two-floor suites is open. You could put a nursery in there, small room for a nursemaid or nanny, a couple of guest rooms if you want to entertain.” “How long has it been on the market?” “About three weeks. Priced a little high, but it might sell. If the owner drops the price, it will probably be snapped up.” Chase chewed gently on her lower lip for a moment. “Can you arrange a showing?” “Not a problem.” “What else?” “Nothing in this immediate area. There are a couple of pocket mansions about a thirty-minute drive from your workplace.” She shuffled from printouts across the table. “This one is on the Two Pines golf course. Six-bed rooms, seven and a half baths, dining room, den, big deck, on about three acres of land.” Chase nodded. “Can you show me around these properties?” “Of course. Tomorrow good for you?” “Yeah.” “I’ll arrange things. Help if you can give me a time frame.” “No idea I’m afraid.” “Care to explain Chase?” Chase shook her head. “It’s both complicated and confidential, for the moment.” Maggie sighed. “Lyle is a lot easier to deal with.” “Lyle? Lyle Redmond?” She nodded. “He called me up, a few hours later we put in an offer on a mansion about two hours north of here. He wants to move his menagerie of little girls into the country, probably show off the new helicopter he bought.” Chase was careful not to frown. “Lyle and I have a different way of handling things.” “So I’ve heard. He’s having a big party there in two weeks. Afternoon for showing off his girls, evening for a regular party, housewarming kind of bash.” “Are you invited?” “Fraid not, though I’m hoping. You could probably get an invitation, or just crash.” Chase nodded after a moment. “I’ll think about it.” Monday, the second week of Emily’s ‘internship’ at Chase’s company. When she walked into the office suite, Lisa looked up from her phone, pointed at Chase’s door, mouthed, ‘go in’. Emily nodded and walked into Chase’s office. “Emily, have a seat,” Chase said, indicating the almost high chair. Emily climbed up into the seat, looked across at the sitting Chase. “Linda asked me to pass a message on,” Emily told her. “Oh?” “She wanted to know if you might want some complimenting outfits, for yourself, for those ones she made for you.” “Really? That’s kind of her. And I, of course, appreciate you telling me.” She smiled. “I suppose having something that would match well would be nice. Tell me Emily, which of those outfits do you think I should choose to have matched?” Emily swallowed, thinking about all of those outfits, and the possibility that she was going to end up in one if only to see if the clothes Linda made really was complimentary. “The sailor dress,” she said, thinking that out of all the others it was the most harmless. “I knew you liked that dress,” Chase said, teasing tone with a hint of eagerness within. Emily opened her mouth to deny it, then pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders in a noncommittal way. “Speaking of your neighbours, I think Gus told me that you’ve helped him with his network issues?” Emily wondered what Chase was getting at. “Yes.” “So you are good with networking stuff, routers and things?” “I know my way around a LAN,” Emily told her. “LAN?” “Local Area Network.” “Good. I need you to go down the to daycare and work on the network and computer issues they have been having.” Emily almost said ‘you’re sending me to daycare?’ but she knew Chase probably wanted that. “What issues?” she asked instead, trying to treat it as if it were nothing. “When I bought the building my IT people were busy getting the network for the business set up. I contracted out the work on the daycare,” she sighed, “which was a mistake. Nothing has worked right, and I think the children and teachers deserve better.” “I understand,” Emily said. “If you need any equipment talk to John, the IT manager. Tell him to bill any of it back to my department.” “Alright,” Emily said as she climbed down from the chair. She did her best not to be embarrassed, not wanting to blush. “Can I get someone to press the elevator button for me?” It was, Emily thought, a pleasant, bright daycare, insomuch as her (thankfully) limited experience told her. There were about five teachers, and maybe twenty children. The majority of them actual children, but Emily saw two male littles, one dressed like a toddler, another dressed as if he was only a few months old. She did not get close them, not wanting anyone to think she was interested. She also did not get too close to the actual children. For an adult little there was no worse bully than a giant child. The daycare was run by a friendly man, Emily guessed he was in his mid-thirties. He was all smiles when she came in, playing with a few of his charges. “You must be Emily,” he said, dropping down to one knee, offering his hand. “I’m Simon Pett.” That was a better greeting that she had hoped for and she took his hand, which enveloped hers, shaking it. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Pett. I understand you have some network issues.” “Do I ever,” he told her, standing. “Half the time we don’t have an internet connection, and I am pretty certain about half the computers need to be overhauled or whatever you do to them. I really appreciate the help.” “Why don’t you show me around?” Emily said, looking up at him. “This way then.” He showed her the computers, the wiring closet, which was a mess of cabling and routers, as well as a few other areas where network equipment had been set up. It was all done terribly, Emily thought. He also pointed out the playroom, the toy boxes, the bathrooms (with potty seats) and introduced her to the rest of this staff; a young man Kent, and three women, Tammy, Mary and Aby, all of them taller than seven feet. Kent almost picked her up when Simon had introduced her. “I’ll get her into some play clothes,” he had said with a smile, before Simon had intervened, saying “No, no, she’s here to fix the computer problems.” “Her?” Kent has asked, obviously disbelieving. Annoying, Emily thought. Tour and introductions out of the way Emily had gone to work. She plugged her laptop into the system and set about tracking down all the issues. It took her about an hour to find the faults, and another hour to get the IT manager to send down the replacements she needed. After that she was busy for most of the day, fixing hardware issues and running updates on all the computers, cleaning up a few viruses she found. Kent seemed to be following her, watching her, as if he thought she was about to wet her panties and start crying. At one point she was goosed by a five-year-old who was taller than she, and then the girl demanded of the nearby Mary, “Why isn’t she wearing a diaper.” Mary swooped in, quickly taking the girl’s hands. “Sorry,” she said to Emily, and then to the girl, “Becky, not all littles have to wear diapers.” With an incredulous look, Becky said, “That’s not what my mommy says.” Mary led Becky away before Emily had to hear more about what the girl’s mommy thought about littles. Emily knew she should not wish ill on children, but she often found it very hard. She went back to work. It was about an hour away from the end of the workday, and Emily had crawled into a cabinet to pull out a superfluous switch (probably put in to pad out the bill) when she felt someone slap her across her skirted bottom. Her head shot up and smacked into the shelf above her. “Son of a bitch,” she cried, for a moment she saw stars. Nearby she heard a childish voice say, “That’s a naughty word!” Emily pushed herself out of the cabinet, expecting to find one of the children. Instead, she saw Chase, kneeling down next to her. She was smiling. “Sorry,” she said, her tone making it obvious that she was not, “but your bottom, wiggling around like that, just needed to be spanked.” Nearby Simon laughed. “I know Miss Morgan. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself.” Emily looked towards her supposed ally, feeling betrayed. “Of course,” Simon continued, “you should only do it when a little is naughty. Otherwise, it is just cruel.” That was a little better, Emily thought, not much, but she was willing to forgive him. “Well then, we’ll just say it was proactive for your salty language.” Emily did not bother to argue that there would have been no salty language had Chase not struck her. “I’m almost finished here,” she said to Chase. “Excellent. How is it going, Simon.” “Wonderful. We’re finally able to stream shows for the children without them cutting out every ten minutes, and all our computers are working much better. Emily is a little miracle worker.” “You’ll need to run a bit of maintenance about once a month to keep everything working well,” Emily told him. “Well, you are welcome back anytime you want,” he said. “Do you hear that Emily? You can come to daycare any time you want,” Chase told her as if Emily had just not heard it. “Appreciated, but I’m sure I can handle most of it remotely.” “I’m sure you would enjoy visiting in person. Actually, I think you often look a little piqued in the afternoons. Wouldn’t you like to come down for an afternoon nap?” “Feel free,” Simon told her. “And don’t worry if you wet in your sleep, we can deal with that.” And just like that, he was her unknowing enemy again. Chase laughed. “Don’t worry about that. Emily got gold stars for keeping her bed dry.” “Impressive,” Simon said, and it seemed he really thought that it was. Emily nodded, did not say anything, wondered when Chase was going to stop mentioning that. Probably, she thought, when it was no longer true. Damn. “How long until you are finished up here?” Chase asked her. “Oh?” Emily said, reached up to rub the sore spot in her head. “Maybe half an hour.” “I’ll be back in about half an hour then. Keep up the good work.” “Okay… Wait? You’ll be back?” “I’ll give you a ride home tonight. I have to see Linda, so it is on my way.” “Great,” Emily, managing not to sound sarcastic. Chase winked at her and then left. Emily watched her go. She felt someone touching her head. Looking up she found Simon smiling down at her. “Just making sure you did not hurt yourself when you bumped your head. If you are feeling a little dizzy, we can lay you down.” “No, thank you, I’m fine,” Emily said as she got back down to crawl into the cabinet. Likely he would have her lying down in a crib if she took him up on his offer, though even one of the mats the children napped on would be bad enough. Strapping Emily into the child seat in the back of her SUV was an enjoyable feeling for Chase. She did not leave Emily’s panties exposed as she drew the restraint belt between her legs, as Emily had been well behaved. She did give the strap a bit of an extra pull, so the stiff material would gently rub against the girl. Chase was a firm believer in positive reinforcement. “There we go,” she said, patting the restrained Emily on the head. “Thank you, Miss Morgan,” Emily said, polite as always. Chase almost thought she meant it. She was hoping the gratitude would be genuine one day. She drove a little slower than usual, drawing it out, enjoying looking in her rear view mirror to watch Emily. Near the end of the drive, she thought that maybe Emily was a little fussy. She wondered if it was the strap, or perhaps if Emily had to go potty. For a moment she considered taking a long detour, but she decided against it. Had she not promised Linda that she would be there around 5:30 she would have made the detour, just to see what happened. Outside of the apartment building, Chase took a slightly flushed Emily out of the seat, confident that Emily had enjoyed the ride, for the strap that had been between her legs was warm with a touch of moistness. She almost lifted Emily’s skirt to get a look but chose not to. She did, however, ask, “Did you enjoy the ride in your baby seat?” “Yes Miss Morgan, thank you,” Emily said, apparently a little distracted. Chase leaned over and patted Emily on her bottom. “Run off to your apartment, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Damned if she did not actually run. Chase got a bag out of her car and then went up to see Linda. “Sorry if I’m a little late,” Chase said, ducking her head slightly as she entered Linda’s apartment. “Oh, that’s okay. I appreciate your interest.” She looked around, noting the tall dress dummy among the smaller ones. “Emily says you have an idea for making complimentary outfits.” “Yes,” Linda said, slightly nervous bob of her head. “Would you like some tea?” “Thank you, that would be wonderful.” Linda went to make the tea, and Chase took a seat, looking around. There were more outfits in progress than when she had last visited. Her gaze shifted towards Linda who was moving about her kitchen, preparing the tea. She wondered what the inbetweener might look like in some of her own outfits. Extremely fetching, Chase thought, but she shook that idea out of her head. Linda set the two cups of tea on the table and then took a seat. “What do you think you would like?” “Perhaps a skirt and blouse, a casual look you could go for a stroll in a park in.” Linda opened her notebook and began taking note. “Something lightweight, with a bit of flow. Silk would be good, but expensive.” She looked up at Chase. “Silk sounds very nice.” Linda nodded and began sketching in her book. Chase looked at what she was doing and said, “And a blazer perhaps, that I could wear for a business casual look.” Linda nodded once more. “That’s a good idea. In fact, I am making something similar for Emily.” “Oh,” Chase said with a smile, “you’re making Emily something?” “Yes.” Linda flipped back a few pages, then turned the book so Chase could see. Chase looked at it, then said, “Perhaps the skirt could be a little shorter, made of something a bit lighter, a little flappy.” “It’s meant for work,” Linda said. “But when she wears the jacket the weight of that will keep the skirt under control. When she takes off the jacket, well, then it is time to relax and have fun. And what girl does not like a playful skirt.” Linda nodded after a moment. “I suppose that is right.” She took the book back towards her and made a few notes. They returned to talking about Chase’s outfit. Once Linda had all her notes she told Chase it would take about two weeks to finish. “And if you can come in for a fitting next week that would be good.” “Do you think you could have it ready for the Friday after next? There is a party I might be going to.” “I should,” Linda said after a moment. “I’ll pay extra of course.” Linda nodded. “Thank you.” “There is one more favour I would like to ask.” “Oh?” Linda asked. Chase opened the bag she had brought. “I bought this off the rack, I think the fit is close, but I was wondering if you could make a few quick alterations. It’s for Emily.” Linda looked at what Chase had brought and then nodded. “I think I can.” Chase smiled. "And keep it a secret, I want it to be a surprise." On Tuesday Chase informed Emily that she would be working down at the reception desk for a few days. “With Claire and Kristen?” “Yes. They are both looking forward to having you with them.” I’ll bet, Emily thought. “And,” Chase said, “I got you a uniform just like theirs.” She opened a box that looked suspiciously like something Linda might have put together. “Here we go,” she said laying out the pieces of the outfit on the couch. “The fit should be perfect.” Emily walked over and stood up on her toes to look at the clothing. At least there was no diaper. “Let’s get you dressed.” “What?” Emily asked. “Well, if you want you can go down to the change room on the first floor, though you might need a little help reaching the locker, or you could go and change in the daycare, which is closer to your size, or you can change here. The door is closed.” “I guess I will change here,” Emily said, thinking it was the best out of a bad mix, and the outfit had not come with panties or bra or vest, so at least she would not be stripping completely. Emily managed to undress quickly on her own, but the receptionist outfit had a few extra pieces, and she could not pull them on fast enough to keep Chase from helping. Dark grey, knee length skirt, with a vest and jacket of the same material. The blouse was purple, with a frilly scarf that Chase tied around her neck. The pantyhose were nude, and the shoes closed toe slippers with a low heel. As Emily set the small, pillbox hat on her head, Chase pinned a brass coloured name tag over the left breast of the jacket. The outfit was almost an exact match of the one she had seen Claire and Kristen in, which of course was the problem. Wearing an obviously adult style outfit would likely make her look like she was playing dress up, especially with bigs wearing the same thing. More than a little embarrassing. “Come along,” Chase said. Emily took a moment to fold up the clothing she had worn and put it to the side before running off to follow after Chase. They took the elevator down to the lobby, a few other people getting on as they descended. Emily got a few, “Don’t you look professional,” from the other elevator passengers and one, “A little early for Halloween isn’t it sweetie?” Chase explained to them all that Emily was working down at reception. “Most of the interns spend some time there, to learn the company.” That statement got variations of, ‘isn’t that adorable.’ Down in the lobby, she found Claire and Kristen were expecting her, though not her clothing for Kristen said, “Oh my god, she’s wearing our uniform. That’s precious.” “Ladies,” Chase said, “Emily will be working with you, I expect you to take care of her and make sure she learns the nature of your job.” She shifted her attention to Emily. “Emily, there is a lot you can learn here. Don’t waste the opportunity.” All three, Kristen, Claire and Emily answered in the affirmative. Chase nodded. “Get to work.” She smiled. “This way Emily,” Claire said, indicating the receptionist desk. A stool with steps had been placed there for her. She climbed up it, the top of the counter coming to the middle of her chest. Claire took up position on Emily’s right, Claire on her left. “It is a fairly straightforward job,” Claire began, smiling at Emily. “But don’t think that means it is easy,” Kristen warned. “We are the first face of the company. It is a lot of responsibility.” They went on to explain the scheduling software, the phone system and the various procedures. Emily expected to be bored to death, but she soon realised that there was, in fact, a lot to learn about the company at reception. She began to see who was coming to the company and who they were seeing. Most seemed pleasantly surprised to find Emily there. Only one older man who had a meeting with a manager up on the fifteenth floor seemed to take offence at Emily’s presence. “Keep littles out of the way,” he had said. Emily actually apologised to him, though inside she was seething, and she made a point to memorise his name in case there was ever a bad-turn she could do him. Her apology seemed to defuse his anger, and he left muttering something about littles needing to be in daycare. “You handled that very well,” Kristen said, her tone not too condescending, though the head pat that followed was. The first day was not so bad. She felt like she was an animal in a zoo at times, both visitors and employees seeming to want to watch her. And when she went to the washroom at her break Kristen went with her, in case she needed any help. The Amazon wondered aloud wondered if the potty chairs in the daycare might be better. The restrooms on the first floor had toilets sized for inbetweeners, so Emily suggested that it should not be a problem. “Make sure to wash your hands,” Kristen had said as if she had not been about to do so. Being told to wash her hands gave her a sense of deja-vu, but she was too busy to pursue the thought. She learned that Kirsten and Claire seemed to have worked out a rotating schedule, one of them always going with her when she left the desk. It was of course annoying. Claire was a little worse, as she wanted to help Emily as much as she could. Kristen was a little better, but she wanted to talk about Chase. The next day, a Wednesday, Chase had her again at reception. Emily had known it was coming and had worn her uniform to work to avoid having to change in Chase’s office. She found the scheduling software lacking, so she made a copy of it on her laptop and began to fix it. Something to pass the time when things were quiet. “You know,” Claire said as she took Emily’s hat off to play with her hair, “you are the best intern we’ve ever worked with.” Emily looked up from her computer. “Have you worked with many?” “All of them,” she told her. “All of Chase’s interns do at least a few days of reception.” “Even the boys,” Kristen said. “Though they don’t get to wear the uniform.” Claire put Emily’s hat back on her head. “At least one wished that he could.” Kristen smiled and winked. “I was looking forward to working with Jessica,” Claire said with a sigh. “She was stacked.” Kristen nodded. “But you’re better,” Claire told Emily and wrapped her in a quick hug, lifting her off the stool for a moment. Emily took a moment to regain her balance when she was placed back on her stool. “Have you both worked for Miss Morgan long?” “I’ve been here since Miss Morgan bought the building three years ago,” Kristen said proudly. “About six months less. I was probably Miss Morgan’s first intern.” Claire reached out and gave Emily’s jacket a gentle tug as if to straighten it. “You like working for her.” “Of course we do,” Kristen said. “Great boss. Good benefits. Good work environment.” Claire listed the reasons. She smiled at Emily. “All the cute girls we can hug. That’s a new benefit.” “Can it, we got visitors,” Kristen told them. Emily shifted the computer to the side and smiled with the other two at the group of people approaching them. The following day passed similar to the others, though Claire was getting a little more difficult to deal with. She had not yet demanded the Emily use the potty chairs at the daycare, but it was getting close. The end of the day could not come soon enough. “Want to come out for dinner with us?” Kristen asked Emily as the security guards locked the front doors. “Pardon?” Emily asked. She had been looking towards the elevators, expecting her driver. “Claire and I are going out for dinner, maybe some drinks. Want to come with us?” “The place has a child’s menu,” Claire offered as if that was a selling point. “I’d like to,” Emily said, lying, “but I don’t have anything to change into, and housework has been piling up.” “Aww,” Claire said. “Well, I know what it is like to have to deal with housework. Must be extra hard for you, being so short.” It was hard to say if Kristen was offering heartfelt empathy or just making fun of her, so Emily took it as empathy and smiled and nodded. Not long afterwards her driver showed up, and Emily was able to leave. Chase was waiting down in the parking garage. “Give Emily and me a moment,” she told the man. “Yes ma’am,” he said and went to make himself busy. “Why didn’t you go out for dinner with Kristen and Claire?” “You’re watching me?” Emily said, a little shocked. “Of course I am watching you.” Emily frowned. “Now, why didn’t you go with them?” “Housework. A lot of it.” “Well, maybe you need someone to help you with that housework. A maid,” she paused, “or a nanny.” “I don’t need a maid,” Emily said, keeping her tone even. “And the nanny?” “No. Not a nanny either.” Chase looked down at her for several seconds. Emily had no idea what she might be thinking. She wondered if today was the day that Chase snapped. “You’ll be working in my office tomorrow. Showing me what has kept your head buried in your computer these past few days. Please take Emily home now,” she called to the driver. “Yes ma’am.” Emily watched her turn back to the elevators. Today was not the day, she thought, but what about tomorrow? She would be so glad when she could leave it all. If she could leave it all. The driver got her strapped into the seat while she was thinking such things. Chase returned to her office, considering Emily. She had been watching the little, how she dealt with her coworkers and visitors. Emily was smart, a little like a wild animal, always watching, always careful. Chase how gotten a little tired just watching her. Emily had, she noticed, never drank a cup of coffee offered. Usually, she had been able to come up with an excuse not to take it, and if she had to accept it, and Chase had watched, she never drank. And there were more things like that. It made a Chase sad, to think Emily was cutting herself off from things. So she would do what she could to help. The next morning Emily spent about thirty minutes showing Chase the alterations she had made to the scheduling software and then about three hours working with Chase’s IT manager as they planned a possible roll out. She liked John. He was so into tech that he often forgot she was a little and spoke to her like any other colleague. “We’ll need to write some documentation for this,” John told her as he set up an installer. “I can do that. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.” “Better you than me. I hate that stuff.” He did not look up from the computer. “Am I interrupting something?” Both John and Emily looked to the door of John’s office. Chase stood there, smiling. “Nope. What’s up?” John asked. “Well,” she looked at her watch, “It’s lunch, and I’m taking Emily out.” “Sure. I forgot it was so late. I don’t want Emily to miss her lunch.” Often forgot, Emily thought but eventually remembered. “I was thinking of working through lunch,” Emily said. “I have a few energy bars in my bag.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Chase’s smile never faltered. “I’d be a terrible boss if I let you just live on energy bars, and this is the end of your second week. We can talk about how well you are doing.” “Take a lunch with the boss,” John said. “I got other work to take care of. We can pick this up after the weekend.” “See Emily dear, perfectly okay to take a break.” Emily considered the options, decided other than a flat refusal she had no choice. And she was thinking a flat refusal might make Chase stop playing her game and act. “Thank you for the invitation,” Emily said to Chase. “You’re welcome. Finish up here and then meet me in the lobby.” “Yes, Miss Morgan.” Chase left, and Emily completed a few things, then saved her work. “Have a good lunch,” John told her, not looking up from her computer. “Thanks,” Emily said, trying to make her tone sound normal. Then she paused, sighed and asked, “Can you press the button for the lobby for me?” He looked up, smiled paternally, “Of course Emily.” She suspected he was going to take a little longer to forget she was a little next time they worked together. In the lobby, she found Chase in conversation with Claire and Kristen. “You’re going to lunch with Miss Morgan,” Kristen said to her. “I’m so jealous.” Her tone was meant to be light, but Emily thought there was a hint of bitterness in it. Emily hoped she had not alienated Kristen. Having an Amazon who was actively gunning for her would be difficult. “Come along Emily,” Chase told her. Not, ‘let’s go’, but ‘come along’. Chase’s big SUV was parked in front of the building. Chase put Emily in the back seat, in the child seat, though she did not pull the strap so tight up between her legs as she had the last time. As it did not take them long to reach their destination, five minutes at most, a tight strap between the legs would be less effective. Chase took her from the seat, then took her hand tightly and led her along the sidewalk lined with smaller, upscale looking buildings. “I don’t want you to get knocked over.” Emily might have discounted that, but there were a lot of bigs around, and they did not look as if they expected littles to be moving around among their legs. They entered the door of a restaurant called ‘The Modern Well’. As soon as they stepped inside Emily was presented with dark wood panelling, the smell of leather and old, sweet tobacco, soft conversation and faint smells of delicious food. A moment after they entered the host, a rail-thin man, easily ten feet tall, in a tuxedo, greeted them. Well, he greeted Chase. “Miss Morgan, a pleasure to see you.” His gaze shifted down to Emily. “You are aware we do not have highchairs?” Emily kept quiet, though there were so many things she wanted to say. “We won’t need one. Perhaps a booster seat,” Chase told him. “Of course,” he said, paused, and then, “We don’t have a child’s menu.” “I am sure Emily will be happy with that,” Chase said, tone suggested she did not want to hear what else the restaurant did not have that might dissuade anyone from bringing children or littles. “Of course,” he said, and led the way into the restaurant. There were people around, but the table and booth setup seemed to give diner’s privacy from each other. She heard them but saw few. The table they were shown to was near the back, in a quiet corner. There we four chairs, but Chase took a seat in the chair next to Emily. “It’s cosy,” she said. The table edge was at the level of Emily’s chin when she sat. The booster seat that was brought to the table about a minute later was needed. They ordered. Emily asked for the prime rib and salad, with a small glass of red wine. She noticed Chase’s ghost of a frown when Emily asked for wine, but she did not say anything. They both ate their salads, made a little small talk, discussed some of the things Emily had learned, all fairly standard. It was only when the waiter brought their entrees that Chase started playing. She took Emily’s plate from her. “Hey,” Emily said, careful not to be loud. Chase smiled, cut some of the meat, and then held it out towards her. “Open up from the steak train.” Emily frowned. “Really?” Chase, still smiling, said, “If you don’t like it we can go to one of those family restaurants. Get you some of the pureed cardboard they call children’s food.” She was good, Emily thought grudgingly. The food smelled delicious, and her stomach suddenly grumbled, loudly enough that Chase heard it. “Someone’s tummy wants some steak.” Emily opened her mouth. Chase put the steak in her mouth. Emily’s eyes widened slightly as she began to chew. It was the best prime rib she had ever eaten. It was nearly the best food she had eaten. Chase had cut another piece and held it out. “I can feed myself,” she said, more sullenly than she would have liked. “I’m worried you are not eating enough. Just want to make sure you get a good meal.” Chase’s tone and expression were innocent. Emily opened her mouth for the next amazing delicious morsel. Chase cut about five more pieces off, feeding each one to her. The sixth piece she darted to the side, leaving a smear of the au-jus on her cheek. “Someone is messy,” she said, wiping the sauce from Emily’s face before she could react. Emily blushed. Chase put the plate back in front of her. “Careful you don’t make a mess, or I’ll have to get you a bib.” As Emily took over feeding herself she wanted to be angry, but the food was so good she could not stay mad. And the wine had the double benefit of being extremely good and upsetting Chase. She felt quite full when she finished. Chase had finished her meal, a fillet of trout, and had spent some time just watching Emily eat. It was a little creepy, but Emily was not going to let it ruin her meal. “Shall we have coffees and deserts?” Chase asked her as Emily put down her cutlery. “I want to,” Emily said, “but that meal was so filling,” she said, for a second treating Chase as if she was just someone she was enjoying lunch with. “Maybe next time we’ll ask the chef for a smaller cut; we’ll tell the waiter that Emily’s eyes are bigger than her tiny tummy.” It was amazing how fast Chase could ruin the moment, Emily thought. Chase paid, and they left. The meat sat heavily in Emily’s stomach and made her feel tired for the first part of the afternoon. Once Chase asked if she wanted to go down to the daycare for a nap. She, of course, refused, politely. When the day was finally over, she was happy to go home. Two weeks down, she thought. Two weeks to go. Chase was ending the day by giving Lisa various instructions on the work they needed to get done in the next week. Her assistant was more brief than usual. Chase thought she must be angry, but did not know what might have upset her. So she asked. “What’s bothering you, Lisa?” She reached for her mug of coffee. Lisa did not answer immediately. She finally said. “It’s Emily.” “What about her?” “Do you know how many of your employees would love to go to lunch with you?” Looking over the rim of her coffee cup Chase asked, “Does that include you?” “No,” Lisa said, and then, “I mean, yes, of course, but I’m not upset about that. I just find it infuriating that she shows so little gratitude to you.” “Well, I suppose Emily does not think she should be grateful, but I can’t say I entirely blame her.” “She doesn’t realise how happy she should be that you have taken an interest in her.” “Well, that’s…” Chase thought about it. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps she does not realise that she should be happy.” “You see,” Lisa said. Chase nodded. “Are you willing to stay a little late tonight?” “Of course.” “Good, because there is something I would like to look into.” After a busy weekend (Emily had worked on several jobs, as well as getting things set for the eventual purchase attempt on the building) Emily came into work on Monday morning. She spent a pleasant enough day working with John, finishing off the work they had started on the previous Friday. She only saw Chase once in the morning. The next day she and John were looking at various software, discussing how some of it might be altered. At about ten in the morning, Lisa called, asking Emily to come up to the office. John was understanding enough to press the elevator buttons without Emily having to ask. However, as he did it, his expression was once again a little paternalistic. As the car took her up to the twenty-third floor, she sighed. Even John, who was a tech nerd, more interested in processors than pacifiers, still easily saw her as a helpless dwarf. When she came into the office, Lisa was shuffling papers on her desk. “Emily, good.” She took a thick file folder off her desk, carried it over to her. “Take this down to the meeting room on the seventeenth floor.” She pressed the folder into her hands. “Why?” “Because Miss Morgan wants it,” she said, then hustled Emily out of the office towards the elevator. “I don’t have time to answer every question you take it in your head to ask.” Her tone was exasperated as if Emily had been asking dozens of questions instead of just the one. Then Emily was in the elevator, descending towards the seventeenth floor, wondering what Chase was up to this time. She did not have time to examine the contents of the folder, though it looked too thick to be the sort of paperwork that might be needed to send her off to some training centre. Emily walked through the busier halls of the seventeenth floor, darting around the legs of the bigs who were moving about, all busy with something or another. She reached the closed door to the meeting room Lisa had described. She knocked. “Come in,” she heard Chase call. She fumbled with the folder and reached up to turn the doorknob. A push of her shoulder swung the door open, and Emily stepped in. The meeting room was large, and more relaxed than a regular conference room, with leather couches and low coffee tables. It was more like a coffee shop than a corporate space. Chase was there, and she stood when Emily entered. “Emily, good, you brought the folder.” Her tone had a hint of the same kind of praise one would use on a small child. Emily nodded, but her attention was drawn to the other woman there. She was probably as tall as Chase, though it was hard to be certain as she was seated on the couch. She was smartly dressed, and her features were sharp, her light blue eyes, locked on Emily, were a little like chips of ice. She wore her light, nearly white, blonde hair long. It contrasted sharply with her black suit. Chase took the folder. “Emily, this is Miss Caroline Oliver, she is the CFO of Three T Technology.” “Pleased to meet you, Miss Oliver,” Emily said politely. She had not heard the name Three T Technology since… “And her daughter Pipa.” Emily took her gaze from Caroline, dropping them. There was a young girl by Caroline’s feet, seated on a play mat. She had missed the girl, her attention so focused on the Amazon. She started slightly, realising the child was actually a little, dressed in a pink set of rompers and a white blouse. She was diapered. Emily started again as the other little looked up from the toys she was playing with. “Catherine?” Emily said, not quite believing what she was seeing. “Aemilia?” the other little asked, a tiny lisp blurring the ‘l’. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks might have reddened slightly. “Shit,” Emily said softly. Caroline looked down at the little at her feet, and then up at Emily. “How do you know each other? How do you know Pipa’s old name.” Old name? The woman had changed Catherine’s name Emily realised. “I believe,” Chase said, “that they might have gone to school together.” “Surely not the daycare,” Caroline said. She reached down and lifted Catherine/Pipa into her hands. “I would recall her.” She was looking at Chase. “Did she attend the Etiquette school?” “I believe they met in college,” Chase said. “Oh that,” Caroline said dismissively. “What a waste of time.” She bounced Catherine/Pipa on her knee. Emily found it unbelievable that Catherine actually giggled. “My little Pipa did not need to fill her head with such nonsense.” Emily had heard of people seeing red, but she had not experienced it before. She felt so angry. Every small indignity she had even ignored, pushed down and responded to with politeness, threatened to spill out of her, choke her unless she spewed forth a stream of invective at this stupid woman in her perfect clothing. Then she felt Chase put her hand on her head. Not hard, but firm, with just enough force that it brought Emily backed to herself. “Emily, why don’t you go back to work.” Emily swallowed, looked towards Catherine/Pipa. She was smiling as Caroline continued to bounce her. She caught Emily’s gaze, offered a shy smile, a tiny lift of her shoulders, almost as if saying, ‘what can you do’. Emily turned and nearly fled the room. “What do you mean work?” Caroline asked Chase. “Emily is in my intern program.” “What? How ridiculous. If it were I….” The door closed before Emily had to listen to what Caroline would do. She did not bother try to get someone to push the elevator button for her but pushed open a door into a stairwell. She sniffed, realised there were tears in her eyes. Wiping at them Emily ran up the stairs, each one nearly too high for her. Exiting on the 23rd floor she ran to the bathroom there, knowing it would be private enough. The last stall, once the door was closed, would give her a place to think without being bothered. She climbed up on the lid of the toilet, pulled her legs up, hugged them to her slim chest. She sniffed again, lifted her arm to wipe her tears away. Why was Catherine there? Had Chase known? Of course, she had, Emily told herself. Somehow Chase had arranged for her best friend from college to be brought there that day. Why Emily had no idea. She found herself thinking back to when she had first met Catherine. The four young women were starting their first year at the Woman’s Institute of Technology. Like most every other freshman there they had attended an assembly where they had been welcomed by the dean of students. Then those four, as well as several others, had been made to attend another, smaller meeting. All the littles had been informed that the school would do everything it could to help them with any special needs they might have. They were given a long list of services the school offered, all of which sounded like things a student just starting nursery school might need, rather than a young woman starting her first year in college. They were given their uniforms, black pleated skirts, white blouses, with blue smocks, and little hats. To identify them as students, the dean of students had said, and then laughed and said, “We would not want you to be mistaken for children.” For most of the littles there, it was not much of a danger, most of them possessing an adult figure, short as they were. For Aemilia Black, it might be a credible danger, but she knew the real reason they were being made to wear uniforms, and it had nothing to do with helping them. “Hurry up girls,” she said, “get changed.” So, in full view of the dean of students and some student volunteers, the littles stripped down to their underwear and changed into the uniforms. Aemilia was not impressed, nor was she surprised. Like the rest of the student body, they were taken on a tour, but Aemilia supposed the inbetweeners and giants were not forced to hold onto a long rope as they were led about. Finally, they were taken to the dorm rooms they would be occupying for their time at college. Littles were not allowed to live off campus at the Woman’s Institute of Technology. Aemilia had wished otherwise, but she had no choice, not if she wanted to study there. There were four beds in the room, each with bed rails around it, turning them into an ersatz crib. The mattresses were high enough up that Aemilia was going to need the small ladder attached to the bed to get into it. There was also a changing table, stocked with diapers, in pride of place, where in any other dorm room a TV might be. Three other girls would be sharing the room with her. There was Catherine, a pretty young woman, tall enough and developed enough that with heels she might pass as an inbetweener. Melody and Tammy were both taller than Aemilia, both of them a little over five feet, Melody somewhat chubby and Tammy more or less average. They had introduced themselves to each other and were just beginning to share details about where they had come from, their high schools, their plans for college when the door to the room was opened, and a young woman entered. Probably eight and a half feet tall, bright ginger, curly hair, pale skin, a spray of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Aemilia thought she looked like some sort of clown from a horror movie. She almost laughed but was not ready answer the questions as to what she was laughing about. “Hello girls,” the young woman said, looking down at them. “I’m your RA, Nelly Constaine. You can call me Miss Constaine, alright girls?” They all nodded, Aemilia said, “Yes Miss Constaine.” “Very good,” she pulled a piece of paper from her jeans pockets, took a quick look at it, then said, “Aemilia. Now, girls, you can call me Miss Constaine.” “Yes Miss Constaine,” they all said together. “Good,” she said with a smile, and the looked at each of them and named them. “Now that we are all friends, I can tell you that I will be taking care of you all for this year. If you need anything, I can help you with it. Won’t that be fun?” Four girls answered, “Yes Miss Constaine.” Nelly nodded. “Good. Now, clothes off.” Even Aemilia, who was used to going along with the Amazons, expressed some concern over that statement. Nelly held up her hand, silencing them. “Now girls, I am responsible for you. And I want to make sure that none of you have any nasty rashes of perhaps a boo-boo that needs to be looked at. So clothes off.” The last was said harder, each word bitten off. The littles stripped and soon four young women stood there, naked, as Nelly gave them all a look over. She had them turn around so she could get a look at their bottoms. She finally declared them all well. “Okay, it has been a busy day for littles. I want you all in bed.” “It’s only 6:30,” Melody said. Nelly smiled. “That’s right because the big hand and the little hand are on the 6.” Aemilia did not sigh. Melody seemed to realise there was no point in arguing. Nelly nodded. “Good girls. Now, let’s get you all diapered up.” Aemilia could not help but say, “I… We don’t wet our beds.” Nelly smiled. “Well, I’m sure that is true,” her tone saying it was not, “but some littles get a little too excited about one or two dry nights, so the school thinks it is better if you are diapered. Now not to worry. If you girls stay dry for five nights, you get to graduate to bedwetting pants. And if you are dry for a whole month after that, though I know how hard that will be, you get to sleep in your pretty panties.” Aemilia suspected that Nelly thought such a thing unlikely. “Okay girls, who wants to be first to ride the diaper train?” None of the littles volunteered. Nelly frowned. “Come along girls. If one of you does not step forward, I think four naughty girls will be taking a ride on the spanking train.” All four of the littles looked at each other. Then Catherine stepped forward. “Excellent,” Nelly said, and stepped forward, picked the naked Catherine up, and laid her on the changing table. “Let’s get a little baby oil massaged into your pretty skin.” Aemilia watched as Nelly filled her cupped hand with oil and then began to work that oil into Catherine’s skin. She took much more time than Aemilia thought was necessary, her hands too long between Catherine’s legs. When Catherine let out a little moan, her face flushing. Aemilia knew that Nelly was one of those bigs, the ones who used positive reinforcement when they treated littles like babies. Catherine was diapered and lifted from the changing table, placed down on the floor. “Now get into your bed kitten.” She looked at the others. “Who is next?” Aemilia knew that there was nothing she could do to avoid it, so she stepped forward. Better to get it over with. Nelly smiled and picked her up, laid her on her back on the table, gently moved her thighs apart. Then, after filling her hand with oil began to feel her up. Aemilia could not quite believe what was happening. She knew this sort of thing happened. She had even seen a nurse in her high school do it to another little, but she had not thought it would happen to her. She turned her head aside, making sure she was not looking at anyone else, she felt her cheeks warm. Nelly’s fingers gently traced across her vagina, slick with oil, never quite penetrating, and then between her buttocks, leaving traces of the slippery oil behind. Aemilia could not help let out a small moan, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment and arousal. “There we go,” Nelly said softly, then grasped her around her ankles to lift her bottom off the changing table. A moment later Aemilia felt herself lowered down onto the padding of the diaper. The soft material compressing as her bottom came down on it, a faint rustling of the plastic backing. She closed her eyes tight, not wanting to see anything that might happen. She felt Nelly push her thighs a little farther apart, felt her run her fingers between her legs one last time before the diaper was pulled up and taped into place. “There we go,” she said as she picked Aemilia off the changing table and put her down on the floor. “Get to bed now while I get your friends all diapered up.” She patted Aemilia on the bottom, hard enough to make the diaper crinkle loudly. Aemilia started forward, paused, unfamiliar with the material between her legs. It had been in nursery school that she had last worn a diaper, and at the time she had hoped it would never happen again. She was certain that she was waddling as she walked, and she desperately wanted to tear the diaper off. She almost did, but she knew that it would only make things worse. She reached her bed and started climbing the small ladder. Being naked but for her diaper, she was certain that her bottom was on prominent display. Almost jumping into bed, Aemilia pulled the sheets over her, hiding her diapers. Though she knew they were still there. Looking up she saw Catherine looking back at her, through the bed railings. Aemilia could see that Catherine was feeling the same way as she. Catherine smiled shyly, Aemilia took it as saying, ‘we’re in this together’ and she smiled back. Nelly finished up with Melody and Tammy, getting a small moan out of each of them before diapering them and sending them to bed. Finished she walked to the door, turned off the light and opened the door. “Make sure you get to sleep girls. I’ll be listening to the baby monitor, and if I hear any shenanigans, I’ll be back here to hand out some spankings.” Then she closed the door. It was dark, but a little of the late day sunlight managed to get through the curtains, leaving everything a little grey. She could hear the sound of other students, not being sent to bed, out enjoying the first night of college. She reached down between her legs and pressed on the front of the diaper, feeling the thickness of it, the slickness of the plastic cover. It was so wrong. She should not be in a diaper. She was not going to wet it. It made her feel so infantile. She pressed a little harder, felt the material pressed up against tender flesh, still tingling from Nelly’s fingers. She sucked a tiny bit of air in. “Are you horny,” Catherine asked softly. Aemilia blushed, took her had away from the diaper. Her back was to Catherine who lay in the other bed. “We should be quiet,” Aemilia whispered. “Do you really think Nelly is listening to the monitor? She’s out having fun like we should be.” Aemilia thought about that, then turned in her bed, looking towards Catherine. “I guess that’s right,” she said, voice low. “Are you feeling it, what Nelly did? I am.” Aemilia’s cheeks were warm when she answered, “Yes.” Catherine sighed. “I’m worried, scared. Is this going to happen every night?” “It will be okay. Stay dry for a week, then a month.” “Do you really believe that?” Aemilia nodded and said, yes. “How do you know?” “They charge us more, for tuition, dorm fees, all of that. You know?” “Yes.” “And the government grants they get are higher for littles, because we have so many special needs.” A sneer had pulled back Aemilia’s lip, and it showed in her tone of voice. “So?” “Most littles who drop out do it in their last semester.” “So?” “So the school makes more money off of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nelly were paying extra to be our RA. They want us to stay around to make more money off of us. We’re safe, at least until our last semester.” “Are you sure?” “I am,” Aemilia said. She had given it a lot of thought before choosing to attend this college. “But what about our last semester?” “I guess,” she paused, “we look out for each other.” After a moment Catherine said, “Agreed.” She paused. “I’m still horny.” Emily sighed, pulling her knees in tighter to her chest. She and Catherine had looked out for each other over the years in college and had kept out of trouble with all the bigs. They had both graduated. And somewhere along the line, Catherine had ended up in the situation the two of them had tried to avoid. She remembered the last time they had spoken. Aemilia, who had started going by Emily, took the bedwetting chart from the wall of her dorm room, carefully folded it up, and put it into her suitcase. “Why are you keeping that?” Catherine asked. She had earlier ripped up her chart and tossed it into the garbage. “I don’t want to give them any ideas, give them an excuse to say I obviously do not care about keeping my bed dry.” “Emily, you are going completely paranoid.” Emily turned to Catherine. “We spent the last two years keeping ourselves out of the clutches of some Amazon. Look at Melody and Tammy.” “Melody and Tammy were obviously too immature. Some littles are like that. We’re not.” Catherine shook her head. “You were the top student this year Emily. Do you think any of those bigs really think you need to be back in diapers?” “Of course they do,” Emily said, her voice raising. It was not the first time she and Catherine had had this conversation over the last month. Catherine signed and tossed her head. “No one wants to put you back in diapers Emily. People want to hire you. You’re brilliant. And you want to go off and do freelance work? That’s stupid.” “It’s not stupid. It’s safe. Come with me Catherine. I got an apartment where we will be left alone, and a client list we can build on.” “Emily, I am going to be working for a big company. TTT Technology. I got a 6 figure salary, benefits, and in a year or two, I’ll probably running their IT department. I am not going to give it up. You should come with me. They’ll hire you. I know they’ll hire you.” Emily shook her head. “No. I am going to work freelance.” She saw there was no point in arguing with Catherine. Somehow Catherine had convinced herself one could prove themselves to the bigs. Emily was not going to be able to make her think otherwise. “If the shine comes off corporate life, you have my email,” Emily told her. Catherine smiled. “Tell you what, in two years when I am running the department I’ll send you some big contracts.” “Yeah, that would be nice.”
 Catherine grabbed her suitcase. “Let’s make a point of getting together. Every year, no, every six months. Maybe we’ll go to a fancy hotel or something.” “That would be nice,” Emily said, thinking she might never see Catherine again. With a wave and a laugh, Catherine left the dorm room, dragging her suitcase behind her. Emily slipped down from the toilet, wiped one last time at her eyes, and left the stall. She wondered how long it had been before Caroline Oliver, CFO of 3T, had decided the little working in the IT department needed to be taken care of? Had Caroline perhaps suggested some sort of maturity test? Or maybe there was another clinic like the Westburne Paediatric Clinic that Catherine had been sent to. Or maybe Catherine had made a mistake a work, and someone decided a spanking was in order. Whatever had happened, Catherine had ended up back in diapers, the baby daughter of some amazon with too much money. Someone who was a lot like Chase. “Oh Catherine, why didn’t you come with me?” she asked softly as she took the stairs back down to John’s office. Not that she was doing so well at the moment, but she still had a chance. It was near the end of the day, she and John had gotten a lot of work done when he got a call. He picked up the receiver, listened for a moment and then handed it to her. Emily took it. “Hello?” “Emily,” Chase said, “please come up to my office.” “Yes Miss Morgan.” Chase hung up. Emily handed the phone back to John. “I’ll see you tomorrow if Miss Morgan wants me to continue working on this.” “Understood,” John said, giving her a wave. She managed to get into an elevator with a secretary. The woman seemed to guess where Emily was going and pressed the button for the 23rd floor without Emily having to ask. “Go right in,” Lisa said as soon as Emily had entered the office suite. When Emily entered Chase’s office, Chase had said, ‘close the door’. Emily was glad that nothing seemed out of place in the office. She had been worried that Catherine’s presence had been the signal of something. “Take a seat, Emily.” Emily climbed up into the high chair. Once Emily was seated Chase surprised her by saying, “I’m sorry about what Caroline said.” After a moment Emily said, “Pardon?” “Caroline should not have trivialised the time that Pipa spent in college.” “Catherine.” “It’s Pipa now, you have to respect that.” Emily did not think she did, but she kept quiet on that. “I does not matter that Pipa does not need what she learned in college, it is part of her life, what made her the person that Caroline loves, and it is where she became friends with you. Caroline should have respected that.” Emily did not know what to say. There was so much wrong in what Chase had just said. She doubted that Caroline Oliver actually loved Pi.. (don’t do that, she told her herself) Catherine. And everything Catherine had learned in college was valuable, and would still be valuable, if some Amazon had not decided she needed to be re-raised, stepped back to a baby. But that was not the way that Chase saw it. She suspected that Chase was incapable of seeing things that way. Still, she had apologised, and at least made an attempt. There was something in that. Something Emily respected, a little. “Thank you,” Emily said. She felt exhausted. “You know, Pipa was happy.” “What?” “Pipa was happy. She is well cared for, she smiled and laughed, played with her toys. She is a content little girl.” Emily almost called Chase a liar, but she modified her statement and said, “I don’t believe it. Catherine would never enjoy it.” Even as Emily said it she was thinking back to earlier that day. The small blush that might not have even been a blush, the lift of her shoulders, the giggle. There had not been a desperate cry for help in Catherine’s gaze, more a slight discomfort, as if meeting Emily again was somewhat disquieting. “Your college had quite a strict set of rules for littles, did it not?” Emily shrugged her shoulders. “Mandatory diapering for the first week, diapers during exams, which is understandable, exams are very stressful, required panty checks, set potty times… Other colleges were not so strict.” Emily had no idea what Chase was getting at. “It was one of the best institutions for what I wanted.” “So you went there in spite of those rules?” Emily nodded. “Perhaps Pipa went there because of them.” Emily opened her mouth, to deny that statement, but then she recalled Catherine volunteering to be the first diapered. She did not want to believe what Chase was suggesting. “Some littles really are not ready to grow up,” Chase told her. Emily shook her head, but it was a weaker gesture than she would have liked. Had Catherine really wanted that? “Would you like to take tomorrow off and go to a spa?” The non-sequitur took her by surprise, and it took a few seconds for those words to make sense to Emily, and even then she asked, “What?” “I usually do something with the interns, most often lunch, and usually after they have been here for a month, but we have already had lunch, and you are on somewhat of an accelerated pace. I think a day at a spa would be nice.” “This is not some sort of weird baby spa?” Emily asked before she could think better of it. Chase smiled. “No, but if you would like that I might be able to find one.” “No, a regular spa is fine,” she said quickly. “Good. It will give you the chance to relax. Now, why don’t you leave early today? Make sure you get a good night’s sleep.” “Yes Miss Morgan.” Emily would spend most of the night unable to get any rest as she wondered if her friend Catherine had really wanted to be a baby again. The next day, about thirty minutes after she arrived at work, Chase was putting her in the child seat in the back of the SUV, and they were driving to the spa. It was about an hour away, and Emily was glad to see when they arrived that it was just a spa. Chase had already booked their appointments, had told them that Emily was a little, for the locker room had a step stool, and they had given her a lower locker to put her things in. Wearing a terry cloth robe that dropped below her knees (Chase’s robe hit the tall woman about mid-thigh) they were led by a beautician to some baths full of mud. ‘Good for pulling toxins from the body.’ After the mudbath, there was a shower, a soak in hot, herbal water, a skin scrub, then a 90-minute massage that left Emily feeling boneless. “Enjoying it?” Chase asked as they sat in a steam room after the massage. “Yes, very much, thank you.” It was true enough. “Light lunch next and then waxing.” “Waxing?” Emily could not help but make a face. “Not a fan?” “No.” “Can’t say I am either.” Emily almost told Chase that in college all littles had been required to get waxed, once a month, for hygiene reasons. It was either that or permanent hair removal. She remembered that after the first session Catherine had chosen permanent removal. Had that been a sign? She was still thinking about Catherine through the lunch (a garden salad with chicken) and when they were brought into the waxing salon. A nearly eight-foot-tall woman named Avril was taking care of Emily. As she helped Emily up onto the padded table, she asked, “Would you like me to mix a few things into the wax, so the removal permanent sweetie?” “What? No.” “Are you sure, you won’t have to go through this again if we make it permanent. You don’t have a lot of body hair anyway.” Big smile, tone a little condescending. “No thank you.” “Really?” She was not looking at Emily, but at Chase. “Her choice,” Chase said as she laid down on another of the tables. Avril shook her head, confused. Emily watched her carefully to make sure she did not take the initiative and mix up the special wax after all. The waxing was unpleasant as Emily remembered, but she was not very hirsute, and it did not take long before the procedure was done. Chase, being larger, and having more body hair, was still undergoing her waxing. Avril helped her down from the table. As Emily was doing up her robe, Avril said, “Why don’t you wait in the lounge outside until she is done.” Emily nodded and left, hearing the sound of wax being pulled off. She could not help but smile. She hoped that Chase found it as uncomfortable as she did. The nearby lounge had some reclining chairs, one or two at the inbetweener size that Emily could climb onto. She leaned back, did not bother to put up the footrest, and closed her eyes. The pain from the waxing was fading to a tingle, and Emily was able to relax. Her mind went back to the question about Catherine. As the night before she was able to recall many examples that could perhaps be taken as Catherine wanting to return to being a baby. There was the time Catherine chose diapers instead of restricting her liquid intake after several other littles had wet their beds, saying she wanted to drink when she was thirsty. Emily had accepted the answer then, even thought it made some sense (though she never wore diapers if she had a choice) but now, it made her wonder. Was this how the bigs see us? Emily wondered. No matter what the action it could be seen through a lens of a little needing to, wanting to be returned to babyhood. Mind going about as it was, and more tired than she realised, Emily fell asleep. She dreamed of Catherine, playing in a nursery. Come play with me Emily, she said in the dream. We can be babies together. Emily ran in the dream, trying to get away, but every door she opened led into another nursery, where another little she knew asked her to play with them. There was Tammy and Melody from the dorm room. Several other littles she had known in college. Littles from high school. Boys and girls, all diapered, all smiling, all asking her to play with her. Emily turned away from the latest nursery, in which a boy named George, who she had had a crush on when she had been in the first year of high school, was riding on a rocking horse, asking to her play. As she turned away, she was presented with the vast, ominous figure, leaning over her. ‘Let’s get these clothes off you’ the figure boomed in a voice that shook the hall. Emily woke, uncertain. Her dream seemed to have followed her, for she felt someone opening her robe. “See, I told you she was not wearing a diaper,” a woman said. Emily blinked, pushed away at the hands on her. “Get off me you crazy bitch,” she mumbled, still lost between dream and anger over what had happened to Catherine. “Do you hear what she said?” a second woman asked. Emily, now awake, found that two bigs were standing over her. Both were dressed in the same robes she and Chase wore, making it clear they were also guests of the spa. The one that had opened up Emily’s robe was a plain looking woman, who looked to be in her early twenties. She had short brown hair and an unfortunately too small nose. Her companion, the one that had just spoken, was a little prettier than her friend, looked about the same age. She had light brown hair, short and curly. “What did you say to me little girl?” the Amazon with the too small nose asked. “I was asleep, I was dreaming,” Emily said, not at all liking the situation she was in. “That’s no excuse,” the other said. “And she hit you.” The first Amazon looked confused for a moment, then looked down at the hand that Emily had pushed away. Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “You’re right. What a naughty little thing you are. No hitting,” she said sternly. “Big girls use their words,” the second Amazon said smugly. “And they don’t have potty mouths.” “Yes, that’s true. I guess I have no choice but to give this naughty little girl a spanking.” “What?” Emily said, suddenly in a nightmare turned real, “no, you can’t.” It was not the right thing to say because Emily knew fully well that the woman could. “Can’t? Little babies don’t tell adults what they can’t do.” This was the sort of situation that Emily had always tried hard to avoid. She could be smart and clever, but once a big got an idea in their head, Emily was in no position to do anything about it. As if to prove that the first Amazon lifted her effortlessly from the chair and stripped the robe from her. Struggle as she might, Emily did not delay the action in the slightest. “Now you naughty little thing,” the woman said as she sat down, pulling Emily over her lap, “you are going to get the punishment you obviously deserve. I’m going to spank the naughty right out of you.” “No, please, don’t. I’ll be good. I didn’t mean to,” Emily begged and babbled. She was afraid of pain, but more so pain she could not control, pain administered by someone else. She was scared of all the things that could happen. She would beg and babble all she could to avoid the pain, but she knew nothing that she could say would stop this woman from administering a spanking. Emily knew she would begin to cry, would sob uncontrollably. Already she could feel tears in her eyes from the fear and approaching dread. Would she lose control of her bladder? She had heard that happened sometimes. She sniffed loudly, almost crying aloud even though not a single slap had fallen on her bottom. She felt the woman shift, pictured that considerable hand lifting into the air above her naked ass. Squeezing her eyes shut she wondered if she could be brave enough to hold out for at least a few slaps. But the hand never fell, and she heard Chase, her voice so cool it went right through Emily. “What do you think you are doing?” “Who are you?” the woman upon whose lap Emily was on asked. “I asked you what you think you are doing.” The voice made Emily shiver, and the woman could not answer. Then Emily felt herself picked up from the woman’s lap and placed on the floor. She was beside Chase. Looking up at the faces of the two woman she could see what she could only assume was fear in their eyes. She did not look up at Chase’s face, afraid of what she might see. “That little girl swore at us,” the second woman said, pointing at Emily. Emily stepped in behind Chase’s legs, hiding behind them. It was humiliating to do so, but she did not want to risk either of those women getting a hold of her again. “Emily?” Chase asked, voice softening a little, but still cold. “I was dreaming, they woke me, I was surprised.” She still hid behind Chase. “I see,” Chase said, voice even softer. The second woman, perhaps not liking the way things were going, said, “She slapped my friend.” The other one nodded. “She did. Such a little brute.” Emily cringed, sure that the spanking she had hoped to avoid was coming, and probably from Chase. Chase surprised her. “Show me the slap mark,” she demanded. The Amazon with the too small nose hid her hands behind her back, looking for a moment like a naughty child. If Emily was not so scared and frazzled, she might have enjoyed that. “It’s faded.” “Hardly,” Chase said. Her voice grew cold again. “Would you like to see what a slap mark looks like?” Both women backed up a step from Chase, and shook their heads, looking, well, Emily had to think, terrified. Chase grabbed Emily’s robe and then delivered one, sharp smack to Emily’s bottom, causing Emily to let out a surprised squeak. Chase then put the robe back on Emily and said as she tired it closed, “Emily, apologise for your rude language to these two ladies.” She put so much scorn into ‘ladies’ Emily was surprised the women didn’t protest. “I’m sorry,” Emily said softly. “Well, I guess…” the first one started. Chase cut her off. “Apologize to Emily for disturbing her sleep.” “What? That’s crazy,” the second woman said, “I won’t…” “Apologize.” That same, cold tone. Emily hoped it was never turned on her. “We’re sorry,” the first woman said. The second one took a step back. “Sorry.” “Good. We’re done.” The two women nearly fled. Chase knelt down, and for the first time Emily looked up at her face. There was no trace of anger on it, thankfully. Chase gently ran her fingers through Emily’s hair. “I think in the future in places like this you should stick close to me.” Emily nodded. Chase stood up. “Let’s go. A manicure and a pedicure will make you feel better.” Emily followed after her, and as embarrassing as it was, stuck close to her. She hated it, but at the moment Chase made her feel safe. Emily had calmed herself down by the time they left the spa. She did not stick so closely to Chase as if afraid someone was going to jump out and grab her. She hoped she did not have nightmares that night. “Other than a little hiccough I think this was an enjoyable day out,” Chase said as she pulled out her key fob and clicked the doors unlocked. “Yes,” Emily agreed. Her skin had a healthy glow, her fingernails and toenails shaped and polished. Her short blonde hair had been neatly trimmed, and she was wearing a bit of subtle makeup. She looked nice, but Chase looked absolutely beautiful. Beautiful and powerful, Emily thought. If only she could see me as an adult, I would love to work with her. Chase picked her up, put her in the child seat, strapped her in, then closed the door and went to get in the driver’s seat. As she started the car up Chase asked, “You know Lyle Redmond of course.” Emily was a little surprised, and it was a moment before she answered, “I do, but not personally.” Chase drove away from the spa. “He’s having a party this coming Saturday. Would you like to go?” “What? I… I thought you did not want him or anyone to know I was working for you.” “Well, I would not introduce you as Emily Black.” Emily frowned. She felt she owed Chase for saving her, but only to a certain point. “Who would you introduce me as?” “EmEm,” she said after a moment. “And no one will ask your last name.” Emily made a little noise of displeasure at that. “I don’t want to go.” Chase said nothing for a short time as she navigated through some traffic. “I could have let her spank you, you know.” Emily stiffened in her child seat. Chase continued. “I could have simply let her spank you until you were sobbing and inconsolable and then come and saved you.” Emily did not answer immediately as she thought about that, what it would have been like. “You could have,” Emily agreed. “Thank you for not doing that.” “And,” Chase continued, “sobbing as you were, near panic, I would have taken you to my home, just to make sure you were okay. And you would not have argued.” “That’s probably true,” Emily admitted. “And once you were in my home, still sobbing and scared, clinging to me as you would be, do you think I would ever let you go back to that apartment?” Emily sighed. “I’ll go with you.” “Oh, will you? How nice.” “No diapers,” Emily said, thought she suspected she would not have a choice in that if Chase decided otherwise. “Of course,” Chase said. “You’ll wear that sailor dress you love. And I’ll send you home before the evening celebrations. Not that I think Lyle would not have a roll in crib ready if one were needed.” “I appreciate that.” “We’ll have fun,” Chase said. Emily knew Chase was smiling. Damn. Emily wished that the Thursday and Friday would drag by, anything to put off the stupid party. Chase, on the other hand, could hardly wait. However, Friday afternoon, a few hours before she would take Emily back to her Apartment (so she could pick up her new dress from Linda), she was presented with a somewhat annoying problem. Though she could not really call it a problem. She was seated at her desk, looking over several printouts. Someone rapped at her door, and she called, "come in." “Afternoon,” Richard said as he came in, carrying a file. “We just got confirmation from 3T. You made a good impression on their CFO it seems.” He was smiling. “We share common interests,” Chase said, with no real animation. “Something bothering you.” Chase handed him the printout. Richard looked at it for a moment, flipping through the pages. “A software vendor is offering us money?” “A lot of money.” “Why?” “John showed Emily, the customer relationship software we purchased last year.” “The software we spent a lot of money on and has never worked right?” “That’s the stuff. Emily wrote a patch and fixed it.” “Creepy,” John said, drawing out the ‘ee’ sound. Chase laughed, smiling. “A little. Anyway, John let the vendor know they could cancel the trouble tickets we had opened as the software was working.” “What did they think of that?” “Once he had shown them it was working they asked for the patches.” “And he said?” “They would have talk to me.” “And you said?” “I told them to piss up a rope.” Richard laughed. “Then they offered money. And, to forestall your question, I told them they had been maltreating us for the last year, and they were getting nothing from us.” “And now the licensing offer?” She nodded. “John suspects they have a lot of angry clients who are having the same issues as us.” Richard looked at the document again. “That is a lot of zeros.” “A lot,” she agreed. “You know, as hard as it is to say this, maybe you had better give up your idea of putting Emily in a nursery. I mean,” he gave the paper a shake, “she’s turning out to be the goose that lays the golden eggs.” “I know. And now you know what is bothering me.” “Most of the world would kill to have your problems.” Chase nodded. “What can I say. I’m a selfish woman.” “You going to Lyle’s party tomorrow?” he asked her. “I am. You?” “I got an invitation. I’m going to do some networking.” “Good.” “So are you taking Emily?” “She is my plus one.” “And you get to show her off.” Chase nodded. “I do indeed.” Saturday morning. Emily woke early. She was nervous. Felt a little ill. She wondered if she could claim the flu or something and beg off the party? No. That would not work. Chase would just have her at that stupid clinic, and that would be worse than the party. She assumed. Sitting at her kitchen table, drinking some coffee she had just made, Emily wished she could just go back to sleep. She had not gotten as much rest lately, with all her work, and she was having bad dreams since seeing Catherine and more so since the almost spanking. One more week, she thought, taking a gulp of the hot coffee. Just one more week and everything will be decided. One way or another. For a time Emily did some work, watching the clock. Chase was to arrive at 10, and Emily wanted about half an hour to get ready. At 9:30 Emily showered, afterwards dried her hair with a towel. The stylist at the spa had cut it so that, when dry, it seemed to almost float about her head, looking like a soft halo that begged to be touched. She like her old short hairstyle better, achieved using a pair of scissors and about ten minutes of her time. Next, she put on the sailor dress, which had been left untouched in her closet, except for the undergarments, which had been laundered. It was about five minutes to ten when she put on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and left her apartment, locking it behind her. Quickly down to the front of the building, just to make sure that no one saw her. She peeked out the doors, making sure the area was empty--she did not want to meet up with some random big. She had treated her neighbours at Sharky’s the night before, she assumed most of them were still asleep. Stepping out, she looked up and down the street, looking for Chase’s car. It was not the SUV that she saw a few minutes later, but a large, black limousine. It pulled up in front of the building. The large passenger door swung open, and Chase stepped out. She was wearing a sundress, with a jacket, similar in colour to the sailor dress Emily wore. Obviously Linda’s creation. “Emily dear, you look better and better each time I see you in that outfit.” “You’ve only seen me in it twice,” Emily said, a little petulantly. Chase smiled. “Well, now I want to see you in it more often.” Walked right into that one, Emily thought. The chauffeur had gotten out of the car, went to the trunk, made a big production of getting a child seat out. “Put that facing towards me, I want to talk to my little EmEm.” “Yes ma’am,” he said as he put the seat in place. Once it was in place the Chauffeur went back to the front of the car, and Chase picked Emily up, the sudden rush into the air making Emily cry out softly, and then put her into the seat. “Such a bother,” Chase said, “trying to keep your pretty outfit from getting too wrinkled.” Emily almost suggested they could eschew the child’s seat. As Chase did up the straps, she said, “Next time we’ll let you travel in your underwear and put your outfit on you when we arrive.” Emily blushed at that thought. Once Emily was strapped in Chase got in and closed the door, sitting directly across from Emily. She smiled down at her. “Off we go.” The car started forward. “Now EmEm, make sure you tell me if you need to go potty. Since you are not wearing a diaper, we don’t want you ruining your pretty dress.” Emily’s cheeks grew warm, and she said, “That won’t be a problem.” “I know,” Chase said, still smiling, “because you’ll let me know if you have to go potty.” Emily nodded. “Yes Miss Morgan.” They spoke during the drive, mostly about the business and the work that Emily was doing. It would have been a rather enjoyable drive if she had not been sitting in a child’s seat and Chase had not kept asking if she needed to use the potty every time they were about to pass a rest stop. They reached the mansion of Lyle Redmond a little after noon, the car pulling up into a line of similar vehicles. The chauffeur came out and opened the door for Chase. Chase released the straps on the child’s seat and lifted Emily out, putting her on the sidewalk leading up to the front of the enormous house. Chase reached into the car for both her and Emily’s bags. She handed Emily her bag and said to the driver, “Be back around 4 to pick Emily up.” “Yes ma’am,” the driver said. Chase took Emily’s free hand in her own and led her towards the house. They passed other people, some with children, and some with littles, all of whom were walking in the same direction. Most of the bigs and inbetweeners were dressed in business casual. The children and the littles were outfitted in variations of party clothing, play clothing, or some sort of semi-uniform looking type outfit similar to Emily’s sailor dress. Closer, Emily got a better look at the house. It was a three-story mansion, with tall columns in front of it, and many windows. The front of the house faced the south, a set of steps led up to the double doors. Close by, to the east, was a garage. To the west, farther from the house, were a few buildings; a barn and what Emily guessed was probably stables. No one, Chase and herself included, were going into the house, but circling around it, out into the back. There was a competition-sized pool, playground equipment, a sports field of some sort out back. There were also several large tents, looking to be recently set up, and through the gap of people, Emily thought she saw a small band. Chase, still holding her hand, led her towards where it seemed people were gathering. “Miss Morgan,” someone said. Chase stopped to look towards the speaker. Emily looked around Chase as well. The woman who had called her was dressed more business than casual, carrying a clipboard with her. “You’re Mr Redmond’s assistant,” Chase said. “Yes,” the woman said, looking pleased. “You helped me change Min.” “I remember,” Chase said. “How is little Min?” “Butterflies in her stomach and bees in her diaper,” the woman said with a laugh. “Nervous and spanked,” Chase said with an approving nod. It’s like she wants me to get angry at her, Emily thought. “She was acting up a little, so Mr Remond warmed her bottom a little. I’m Doris Mann by the way.” “Dorris,” Chase said, and then looked down at Emily. “This is EmEm.” Dorris looked down at her. “Oh, she’s so adorable.” Chase was smiling. “Perhaps EmEm could play with Lyle’s little girls?” Chase suggested. No way in hell, Emily thought. “Oh, I’m afraid that the girls are getting ready for… well, it is a surprise.” “And the cause of the butterflies?” Dorris nodded. “Well, perhaps another time,” Chase said. Dorris was looking Emily, and smiled and nodded, then gave herself a little shake. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot what I wanted to talk to you about. Mr Redmond was hoping you two could speak.” “I’d be happy to. Where is he?” “I’m afraid something suddenly came up. Business. He’s not going to be free until this evening. He hopes you will enjoy this afternoon and be able to speak with him later.” Chase did not answer immediately, and Emily noticed the slightly nervous look on Dorris’ face. Then Chase nodded. “That will be fine.” Dorris visibly relaxed. “Thank you.” Emily wondered why she was so nervous. Would Lyle punish her if Chase did not stay? Perhaps, even though a big, a spanking and a diaper was not out of the question? Emily could not help but giggle at the thought. The giggle made both Chase and Dorris look down at her. Dorris bent over to bring her head closer to Emily’s. “EmEm, if you want you can go and play in the playground.” She smiled. Emily looked over at the playground. She could already see the giant children were making life miserable for the littles there and was pretty sure that it would get worse. “No,” she said. Usually, a little flat out stating ‘no’ to a giant was a recipe for trouble, and Emily knew that, but she would not go into that playground willingly. Chase defused any potential problems by laughing and saying “EmEm is such a mommy’s girl. At her wits ends if I am not close. Isn’t that right EmEm?” Chase was looking down at her expectantly, and Emily knew there was only one response that would keep her out of the hell that the playground could become. “Yes Mommy,” she said softly. “Aw, so cute,” Dorris said and reached out to ruffle Emily’s hair. Straightening Dorris said, “Enjoy the party, Miss Morgan.” She left. Chase was smiling down at Emily. Emily felt her cheeks growing warm. “Sure you don’t want to go and play?” Emily shook her head and said, “Yes I’m sure.” Chase lifted an eyebrow. Emily sighed as her cheeks grew warmer, “Yes I am sure Mommy.” I really do hate her. Chase wondered if she could find a way to have Emily continue to call her mommy at work. It would be nice, but as long as Emily was an employee, it would not be professional. Which really meant she had to make Emily stop being an employee. She led Emily into one of the large tents, where tables nearly groaned under the weight of the food the caterers were lying atop them. “Would you like something to eat EmEm?” Chase asked. “No thank you, I’m not hungry,” Emily said, and then after a second added, “mommy.” Like pulling teeth with this girl Chase thought. Surely there had to be an easier way. Spankings and bottle feedings she guessed, but as enjoyable as that could be, she would wait on it. “Stay close EmEm,” Chase told her as she let go of her hand. She trusted the memory of the almost spanking at the spa would keep Emily on her figurative apron strings. Picking up a plate she moved among the tables, putting various delicacies on it, then filled a tall glass with a non-alcoholic punch. Emily was almost on her heels as Chase left the tent. She found a small table with a few chairs set around it, all currently deserted. She put the plate and glass on the table and then picked up Emily and took a seat on the chair, settling Emily firmly in her lap. Emily let out a small squeak in surprise when first picked up, and Chase asked, “Isn’t this nice EmEm?” “No,” Emily said softly. “No what?” “No, it is not nice Miss Morgan.” Chase sighed. “I really should have let that woman spank you.” Emily did not say anything. Chase reached onto the table and took a panini from the plate and tore a small piece off. “A piece for mommy,” she said, and the put it in her mouth. As she chewed and swallowed, she tore another piece off. “And one for EmEm,” she said, holding the food in front of Emily. Emily sighed and opened her mouth. Chase continued, and had gotten through about half the plate when someone said, “What an adorable little girl.” Chase looked towards the speaker, a pretty enough woman, a little chubby perhaps, a tall inbetweener or a short Amazon. She was well dressed, too formally perhaps, but Chase guessed it was an excuse to wear expensive jewellery. “Thank you,” Chase said, and then, “EmEm, what do you say?” “Thank you, ma’am.” “Oh so sweet,” the woman said, stepping closer. “Are you sharing mommy’s food?” “Yes ma’am,” Emily said. Chase could feel Emily tense slightly and knew that she was not enjoying the attention. The woman looked up at Chase. “I’ve heard it is better that they eat food meant specifically for littles. Breast milk is often said to be the best.” Chase felt Emily bristle. She answered with a smile, “I’ve heard that too. Do you have children…” she let the question trail off. “Kim, Kim Julian, and no, I don’t, but I am hoping maybe soon.” “Chase Morgan,” Chase said in introduction and kept Emily in her lap as she held out at hand. Kim took it for a quick, fingertip shake. Not a confident handshake at all, Chase thought. “Chase Morgan?” Kim asked. “Of Morgan and Stone?” Chase nodded. “Yes.” “Oh my,” she said, smiling. “My husband was just talking about you this morning.” “Your husband?” “Paul Julian, of Evertech.” Chase nodded, recognising the name. “Yes, I know of him.” “He was hoping to talk to you.” She looked about excitedly. “Could I impose on you to wait here for a moment? I’ll see if I can find him.” “Of course,” Chase said. “I will be right back,” she said with a dip of her head and then she rushed off. Chase tore a small pastry in half, ate one piece and put the other part in Emily’s open mouth. “What do you know about Evertech little EmEm?” Chase asked after she swallowed. “What would little EmEm know about a company?” Emily asked her tone a mix of innocence and bitterness. “Now EmEm, if you want to be Emily Black I’ll make a point of introducing you to Lyle as that. Let him know how you have been fooling him.” She thought she could feel Emily’s skin grow warm and in a more polite tone she said, “I‘ve done some work for them, I think they are looking to expand rapidly.” “What sort of work?” “Confidentiality agreement,” Emily told her. It was a fair answer, Chase thought. She would not want Emily doing anything illegal, anything that might result in her losing her hold on the little. “Anything else you can tell me that will not break that agreement?” Emily did not answer immediately, and Chase took a moment to pop another bit of food into the little’s mouth. “They are trying to buy resource companies, agricultural. That’s obvious if you look, nothing they told me. New pharmaceuticals if you ask me.” Chase nodded, took a drink of her punch, then held the glass to Emily’s lips so she could drink. For a moment she thought she might shift the glass, cause a spill on Emily’s white dress. She decided not to ruin a dress as lovely as the one Linda made. She had put Emily back on the ground in front of her and was wiping Emily's face with the cloth napkin (not that she needed it) when Kim returned with her husband. Chase stood to meet him. Paul had to be a foot taller than her, and she did not want to be looking up at him from a seated position. “See, I found her,” Kim said. Paul smiled at his wife. “Good girl,” he said, giving her a quick hug. Chase suddenly wondered about the tall big and his chubby inbetweener wife. Seeing them together she could suddenly see Kim in a dress, similar to Emily’s, calling her husband ‘daddy’. She had heard about relationships like that. Perhaps the reason they did not have children was that Kim was the child. Paul approached her, hand extended, and Chase put those thoughts aside. Chase took his extended hand. Confident handshake. “Miss Morgan, Paul Julian. Pleased to meet you.” “The pleasure is mine,” Chase told him. He let go of her hand, indicated the seats around the table. Chase took a seat, put Emily at her feet. Paul pulled back a chair for his wife and then took a seat as well. “We have a common problem, Miss Morgan,” he said, “and you apparently found the solution.” “Oh?” “Customer relationship program has not worked, but apparently you fixed it.” Chase smiled as she reached down and gave Emily’s head a pat. “That does seem to be the case.” “Damned impressive. We’ve been stuck with that overpriced failware for a year and a half.” He looked about and then asked, voice a little lower, “Don’t suppose you could send my people that fix?” Chase shook her head. “I’m afraid that I can’t. I am being offered a very generous fee to not do that.” Paul nodded. “Understandable. I would do the same thing in your place. Were you working with them on this fix?” “No.” “And would you be willing to state that, legally?” “I probably would.” Paul smiled and nodded. “I can probably go after them on that, complete failure to address the issues in good faith. Get some of the costs refunded.” “I wish you luck,” Chase told him. “Thank you. You know, I never really saw Morgan and Stone as a tech company. Is that changing?” Chase smiled. “Who knows?” He laughed. “Playing your cards close to your chest. I like that. I might be able to use your company, as a public relationship, advertising firm. Any tech you might bring after the fact would be a welcome bonus.” “I would certainly be willing to speak about that. Richard Stone is around here somewhere.” “Excellent. You know, you should come and visit Kim and me sometime.” His eyes shifted to Emily. “You are of course welcome to bring your little girl.” “Thank you, but EmEm can be naughty at times and does not always get to go on trips.” “Yes, I know how little girls can be naughty.” Chase noted his gaze shifted momentarily to his wife. If not for her earlier thoughts she might have missed it, but she was confident that she knew who wore the diapers in their house. Had Emily been a child, or even most littles, she might have been bored out of her mind. As it was, seated in Chase’s lap, listening to the business talk, was extremely interesting. She had to be careful not to show too much curiosity, or make suggestions, which she had a lot of. The two hours listening to Chase, Richard and Paul speak was great. If anyone seemed bored and fussy, it was Kim, and about half an hour into the talk Paul suggested she wander around. She left happily. Her chair as soon filled by another influential big, interested in the talk happening. Finally, Chase called the meeting to an end. “I need to take Emily to the potty,” she said, “and I think that Lyle’s entertainment will be beginning soon. I want to see it.” Thomas Aster, an owner of a computer company, a man who had joined them about an hour before, looked at his watch and said, “Have we really been talking this long?” “Good conversation makes things pass fast,” Richard said. Chase stood, placing Emily on the ground, taking her hand. “I am sure we will continue this conversation.” As they walked across the lawn, toward the house, Chased asked, “What does EmEm think?” “There is a lot of opportunity,” Emily told her. “There certainly is.” Just outside of the house a temporary but spotless and well-made set of bathrooms had been set up. Chase took her into one of the small rooms with a toilet, a duck-shaped potty chair, a change table and a sink. Chase picked her up and sat her on the change table. “What…” Emily started, feeling her heartbeat speed up with fear. Chase went to the sink, soaked some paper towels and then returned to wipe Emily’s face and hands. She stood back and looked her over, nodded, and then said, “Can you use the potty or would you like a diaper?” Emily realised that those were the only options she was being given. Suggesting that she might go into a bathroom on her own would not fly. “I’ll use the potty please.” Chase smiled and with a quick motion removed the sailor dress, leaving Emily in just her underwear. “We don’t want you getting your dress messy,” she said. She then put Emily down by the potty chair, pulled her tights and panties down, then put her on the yellow plastic chair. Standing there, looking down at her, Chase smiled and said, “Do your business for mommy.” Emily flushed, but this was not the first time she had been in such a position, and she was not going to let embarrassment let her end up in a diaper. So she did her ‘business’, but she was doing it for herself. Afterwards, Chase praised her, cleaned her and put her back in her dress. All quick and efficient giving her little time to protest or think about it. And she was glad she had no time to think about it because she did not want to, not then. Once more her hands were washed by Chase, and they left the bathrooms. Chase led her back towards the party, circling around the tents, towards the playground. There were a lot of people around, so Emily was not sure what was happening. Then Chase suddenly lifted her up into her arms, putting Emily on her hip, giving the little a much better view. There was a round stage set up off to the side of the playground, and several musicians were setting up around it. Emily supposed this was the entertainment. As she watched the musicians took their seats and began to play. The crowd grew quiet, more attention turned to the stage. Emily spotted Dorris walking towards the stage, and then the five small forms following after her. Lyle Redmond’s 5 adopted daughters, each wearing a leotard and a tutu in different shades of pink, with white tights, pulled up over thick diapers. Emily watched them, each waddling a little, as they were led up on the stage, put on display. Each of them a young woman who had been reduced to a ridiculous toddlerhood at the whim of a man who had money, power and size. Dorris stepped off the stage and the girls sorted themselves out. When the musicians changed the tune, the littles began to dance. The bigs around her seemed enchanted by the display, watching, condescending smiles and soft comments. Part of Emily wanted to look away, but part of her could not help but look on with rapt attention, It was like a disaster in that she knew she should not watch, but could not take her gaze from it. The girls, no, think of them as women, Emily told herself, danced well. Their movements spoke of a great deal of practice. The thick diapers made them a little clumsy, however, which made them seem uncertain, as if they were still not sure of their limbs, like actual toddlers. It was cruel. “They say,” Chase said into her ear, “the ballet is the best activity for littles. Do you know why?” “Because tutus and diapers are a combination bigs like?” Emily asked, tone more waspish than she had intended as her anger got the best of her. Chase did not seem upset. She smiled and said, “Very good, tutus and diapers do look very cute together.” Her tone was the same one adults used for children that had stated something so obvious that it was stupid. It made Emily feel stupid. “However,” Chase continued, “it is an excellent form of exercise, to help littles stay healthy and to keep them from getting fat. A little chubby is fine of course.” “Of course,” Emily said, tone sharp. Chase laughed. “And it is in no way competitive, and not a roughhouse activity. It is a nice, gentle pastime.” “And there is no way, no matter how good they get, they could become professional,” Emily said the last in a tired tone of voice as if she could no longer hold on to her anger. “I suppose there is that,” Chase said, but Emily knew she did not get it. Her thoughts were probably more on why a ‘properly’ cared for little would need to do anything in a professional capacity. After about a minute of watching Chase said, “You know what, I think you…” “I’m not taking ballet,” Emily said. “I think you should,” Chase said. “It will be good exercise.” “I already get enough exercise.” “Do you? Since you started working for me?” Emily opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. She really had not been exercising as much as she once had. “See. Ballet will be good for you.” “I’m not taking ballet,” Emily said again. Chase sighed. “Well then, perhaps you should go to the clinic, once a week, for vitamin shots and a full check-up.” Once more Chase was offering her two options, neither of which was particularly desirable, but one better than the other. “I’m not wearing a tutu. Track pants and a sweatshirt.” Chase frowned. “Tights, and a t-shirt.” “Leggings.” “I pick the t-shirt.” “Fine,” Emily said, knowing she would regret it but supposing she was winning as much as she could. “I’ll see if there is a studio close by, if not I’ll arrange for an instructor to come into the office.” Emily had to admit that Chase was pretty free with her money. It was almost flattering. The dance recital ended and each girl was made to bow around in a circle, flashing their diapered bottoms to everyone in the process. Emily watched, a sick feeling in her stomach as she realised she could be in a similar situation if her plan to win free of Chase did not work. Chase put her down, led Emily towards the stage where people were gathering to congratulate the girls on their performance. Chase put her in front of each of the other littles, so she could be introduced. Min, Tiffy, Kitty, Dot and Isa, were their names and she had to tell them each how pretty they had danced. Dot and Isa looked as embarrassed as Emily felt, while Min, Tiffy and Kitty seemed pleased by the praise and Min said she wanted a dress just like Emily’s. As Chase led her away, Emily wondered if Min had really meant that or if she was just a terrific actor. “They all seemed happy,” Chase said. Emily did not reply. She would be willing to argue that point for Dot and Isa (were those really their names?) but she supposed it might be true for the other three. That was not something she wanted to think on. Chase had led her into the playground and put her on one of the swings and began pushing her. Emily had always liked swings. The simple act of swinging back and forth, the small drop of her stomach at the top ends of the arc. It had been a long time since she had last swung on one. An adult inbetweener or big could swing anytime they wanted, and it was just whimsy, a little on a swing was something different. She stopped trying not to enjoy herself. Just because she liked a swing that did not make her a baby. Screaming, ‘higher, higher’ might have, so she did not. Chase seemed content to push her for a time, probably watching all the other littles and children playing. Chase eventually picked her off the swing and said, “Your ride will be here soon EmEm. Let’s get you something to eat and then we’ll take you to the potty before you leave.” “Yes mommy,” Emily said because there were people around. Chase strapped Emily into the car seat and then said to the chauffeur, “Make sure you stop at least twice so she can go potty.” “Yes ma’am.” “I don’t need potty… bathroom breaks.” Chase smiled and leaned into the car, kissed Emily on the forehead, smiled at the scowl that crossed her face. “I don’t want that dress ruined,” she told her. “If you had been willing to wear a diaper you wouldn’t need the potty stops. Now be a good girl for the driver, and I will see you Monday.” She stepped back and closed to door. “Drive carefully,” she told the chauffeur. “Yes ma’am,” he answered, and handed her a small bag he had taken from the trunk. She watched as the limousine drove off, joining a stream of other cars leaving, children and littles being sent home, a few bigs and inbetweeners departing as well. She walked back to party set up, noticed that a few tents were being taken down, a bar was being put out. Caters were setting out snacks for people, though the proper dinner was still a few hours off. She wanted to find a place where she could freshen up, and change into the clothing she had brought with her. There must be a lounge or something that was being made available. “Chase Morgan,” she heard the familiar voice of Lyle call. “Hello Lyle,” she said as she turned towards him. “Thank you for inviting me.” “You’re welcome, I like to show off after all.” Chase smiled. “Enjoy yourself so far?” “Yes.” “My assistant said you had a pretty little with you.” He looked about. “I’ve sent her home.” “Too bad,” he said with a smile. “It was getting late for her.” “I know. I’m having my girls put to bed right now. Would you like to see?” “Yes. I was quite impressed with their dancing.” “They’ve been practising.” “It shows.” He nodded and led her into the house, pointing out various rooms as they went. “I plan to entertain a lot.” “Like some kind of lord,” Chase said. He looked back at her, perhaps wondering if it was an insult. “A little, I suppose.” Chase decided she would never go for anything so grand. They reached a large nursery where Dorris Mann and two other women were getting the five little girls ready for bed. As soon as Lyle entered the girls waddled about, at least two of the giggling, to line up. All five wore footed sleepers, each a different shade of pink; their bottoms wrapped in thick diapers. One of the girls, Tiffy, stepped forward, looked up at Lyle. “Do we have to go to bed daddy?” Chase thought that, like Min, her high voice was sweet, but did not seem genuine. “Are you arguing Tiffy?” he asked. She shook her head. “No daddy, but we want to stay up for the party,” she said, nearly whining. Chase wondered if she was supposed to be winsome; if so she was failing. She thought that Emily would have done it better. “Is this true?” Lyle asked, looking towards all the girls. Chase was impressed that they did not turn over on Tiffy, though none of them said anything, just nodding. Lyle shook his head. “You had a busy day girls, and the party is for grownups. Now, do any of you think you are grownups?” Tiffy shook her head, but from the line, Dot looked defiant, well, as defiant as a little in footed sleepers could. Lyle stepped forward and scooped up Dot. “Does Dot think she is a big girl?” he asked with a laugh. The other littles relaxed slightly. Dot said, “I don’t want to go to bed so early.” Lyle popped the snaps on the crotch of her rompers and reached a hand into her diaper. “Do you think that someone who's in a wet diaper should be able to stay up as late as they want.” Dot blushed. “Well Dot?” She shook her head, and said, “No daddy.” “Good girl,” he said, and carried her over to a crib and placed her into it. “Give daddy a kiss,” he told her, leaning into the crib. She kissed his cheek. He kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep tight.” He then returned and picked up each of the littles, putting them in a crib, getting and giving a kiss. Chase thought it was sweet. When they left the nursery, the lights going dark behind them Lyle told Dorris, “Make sure Dot and Tiffy don’t get a diaper change tonight.” “Yes Mr Redmond.” He and Chase left the family wing behind, climbed the stairs to the second floor, opened the doors onto a balcony. “They are all adorable,” Chase said, because they were, but not as adorable as Emily. He nodded with a smile. “They are an important part of my life. But, let’s put that aside and talk business. I want to buy your company.” “It’s not for sale,” Chase said. “Does Richard think the same?” “I hold the majority control, but I’ll ask him. If he wants to sell, we’ll talk.” “I’ll leave you in charge if that helps.” “I’d be working for you.” “I’m a good boss.” “You would say that.” Lyle laughed. “Well, admittedly I do think highly of myself, but my employees seem happy enough.” “I’ll keep it in mind.” “You’re getting bigger, which means we might actually start competing. You’d not do well in that situation.” “Why Mr Redmond, that almost seems like a challenge.” “I suppose it does, but seriously Chase, you don’t want to swim with the big fish.” Chase nodded, but she was pretty sure she did want to swim with the big fish. She was even more certain she wanted to be the biggest fish. Lyle looked at her bag. “There is a lounge downstairs, close to where we entered. Washroom where you can change if you want.” “Thank you,” Chase said. She left him behind on the balcony, a lord looking out over his holdings. He was not taking her seriously. Chase planned to show him the error of his ways. It was getting dark when the limousine dropped her off. It had taken longer to get back as the driver had made several stops so she could ‘use the potty’. Now he escorted her up to her room, saw her safely within before leaving. Emily undressed, careful to hang the dress she hoped to never wear again up in the closet. Then, putting on a pair of ratty jeans and a t-shirt she went to work. She checked her plan first, transferred funds from her rapidly diminishing savings and then ran some transactions. Almost there, she thought. That done she turned her attention to new projects. She had spent a few hours sitting among several powerful people, all speaking about fascinating things, none of them, except maybe Chase, considering she was listening to everything that was being said. And most of them said more then they realised. Emily began to put together her notes, researched what she had, and ran some simulations. She had been working for about an hour when she sat back and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Why was she doing this, she wondered. Then she understood. She was doing it for Chase. There were times, not often, and never lasting more than a few seconds, when the Amazon forgot Emily was a little, when Chase treated her like an equal. Emily did not kid herself that that meant anything, that that somehow made her safe, but she had to admit, now that she thought about it, that she liked it. Her mind turned back to earlier that day, when Chase had sat her on the change table. She had been scared, still felt her heart speed up a little, for she had almost been sure that she had lost, that Chase was going to put a diaper on her and make her a baby. She had not, but after the potty, when Chase had cleaned her, touched her between her legs, as innocent as it had been, Emily had felt something. She had not thought about it then. She thought about it now. “I am attracted to Chase Morgan,” she said aloud. It was ridiculous of course. Chase saw her as a someone who needed to be cared for, who could not be trusted to take care of herself. In that relationship, Emily would always be the lesser. No matter in what intimate way Chase might touch her (even if it was like her old RA Nelly who had often played what she had called ‘making cummies in your diaper’) to the Amazon it would be positive reinforcement. Something to make a little like the treatment instead of anything even close to love between equals. But for what was hopefully her last week she was going to try to cultivate those moments, when she could pretend for a few seconds that there could be something between her and Chase. There was no harm in it. It might just be a crush, it probably was. There were a lot of reasons to be attracted to Chase, but an equal number of reasons to have nothing to do with her. It was complicated. She sat back up and returned to her work. A few minutes later someone knocked on her door. She thought for a moment it was Chase, come to see why she was not in bed, but Emily dismissed that. It was, in fact, Gus, standing out in front of her apartment. She opened the door. “What’s up Gus?” “Wanna come down to Sharky’s? We’re having a bit of bash to celebrate no news is good news.” His tone was light, but she could see that he was worried. Emily looked back at her computer. The work could wait until tomorrow. “Sure.” On Monday morning Emily came in, ready for the last week, to stand against any attempt on Chase part to put her back in the nursery. All she needed was a little more time to let her plan come to fruition. So she immediately handed Chase the report she had written over the weekend. “What is this EmEm?” Chase asked with a smile. “Some colouring to put up on my fridge?” Emily took a deep breath. “Keep it up, and I won’t give you the electronic research that completes it.” Chase frowned and opened the report. She flipped through a few pages. “Have a seat, Miss Black, we have a great deal to work on today.” Emily smiled smugly, though was careful Chase did not see it. They spent most of the day going over the report and the research, and it would have been a pleasant enough day, but Chase, of course, had to ruin it. About an hour after lunch (they had ordered in, Chase had eaten some of Emily’s pad thai to prove it was safe) Chase said, “I’ve had Lisa look into ballet studios.” Emily bit down on her reply and instead said, “Oh?” as if it had nothing to do with her. “Unfortunately there are none close enough.” “It is an expensive neighbourhood.” Chase smiled. “However I found a teacher who is willing to come by twice a week over the lunch hour.” “How fortuitous,” Emily said, her tone skirting sarcasm. “Fortuitous?” “It means…” “I know what it means Emily,” Chase told her, tone hard enough that Emily knew she had pushed things a little too far. “I’m surprised you do.” “Really?” Emily asked, exasperated. “You’ve been reading a report that I wrote, and you don’t think I know what fortuitous means?” Chase looked down at the report, a curious look on her face. “It’s different,” she finally said. “How is it different.” “This was written by Miss Black.” “I am Miss Black.” “You are, and you aren’t.” She reached out and ruffled Emily’s hair. “Understand.” Emily wanted to say ‘I understand all you bigs are insane, and I can only assume it is due to breathing so much thin air,’ but instead, she said, “Some things are too hard for me to understand.” Which gave Chase the opening to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you with all the things that make you all confusey woozy.” Emily shook her head and reached for the report. “Here are the details of the latest acquisitions and the patterns we can use to predict their next move,” she said as if the previous exchange had not happened. Chase laughed and then asked, “You have your leggings ready?” Emily sighed, realising she was going to have to play Chase’s game. “Yes.” “Are they pretty pink?” “They are black,” Emily told her. “Black?” “Lots of leggings are black.” “Pink is nicer,” Chase teased. “Black is fine,” Emily said, each word pronounced sharply. “You’re not going through a goth phase are you Emily?” Chase looked up at her ceiling. “I’m not sure where I could find black diapers.” “You don’t need to find black diapers.” “That’s right,” Chase said, looking back at Emily. “Lisa told me you like pink.” Emily put her head in her hands. “Kill me.” “Explain the patterns please,” Chase said all business again. Emily took her head from her hands, nodded and reached for a page. “If you look at the graphs…” Tuesday was the day of the first ballet class. Emily brought a small gym bag with her, within leggings, a change of undergarments and a t-shirt, packed in hopes that Chase would forget their ‘agreement.’ Chase was busy, so she ended up in John’s office, discussing how to package their patch. “You’re sure they won’t be able to decompile this, get their hands on your code?” “Trust me, they are not going to be able to get into it. It’s as perfect a blackbox as I can code.” “I’ll admit that I can’t get at it, but they will likely have some hotshot coders on staff.” “If they had hotshot coders on staff I would not have had to come up with a fix for their problem.” John laughed. “Good point.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” John called. Lisa came into the office. “Hello John.
 “Hey Lisa,” he said. Both of them speaking with a familiarity that spoke of a good working relationship. “What’s up?” “Emily’s ballet lesson is going to start in about ten minutes. I need to make sure she is going to be ready.” That might be the last time John was going to be able to look at her as anything other than a brilliant little, but still a little, Emily thought. “Of course. I’ll see you after your class, Emily.” “Sure,” Emily said. She did not complain about it, hoping she might yet salvage her working relationship with him. “You could change in the change room downstairs,” Lisa said as she let Emily towards the elevators, “but I’ll take you to Miss Morgan’s office. It will be a little quicker, and she left your t-shirt for you.” In Chase’s office, she changed into her stretchy, black, nylon leggings, and the t-shirt. Pink, with white lettering on the front. ‘Keep Calm and Carry Me’. “Real nice Chase,” she said, putting on the t-shirt. “Come along,” Lisa called, “I’ll take you to the class.” Lisa looked at her when she came out of the office. “Do you want me to carry you?” she asked with a smile. “I’ll pass.” “The shirt makes a compelling argument though.” “I can take it off. I have a plain white one. Will that help?” “You are no fun,” Lisa said, turning away from her. Emily left out a small sigh of relief. That could have gone wrong in so many ways. She should know better than to bait bigs. The class was in a large meeting room, almost an auditorium, on the seventh floor. The table and chairs had been pushed back, to give the students room to move. Emily was a little surprised when she came into the room and found out she was not alone. Three young women had come for the ‘exercise’, and there were some of the kids from the daycare, including Becky. Mary was there to watch the children, as well as the little male who had been dressed like a toddler when Emily had last seen him in the daycare. All the children from the daycare were dressed nearly identically, in short-sleeved leotards and tutus, including the little. She wondered if the daycare had had the clothing on hand or if the parents had sent it. She also wondered why there were making the little dress the same as the girls. It seemed pointlessly mean to her. He was already in a diaper. Part of her wanted to get close to him, not that she could help him, just to see if he was one of those littles that had accepted their new life. She did not, however. She did not want to discover he needed help she could not give. She did not want to discover he had given up and accepted it all. She did not want anyone asking if she wanted to wear pretty clothing like that. “Mary, can you keep an eye on Emily?” Lisa asked. “Sure,” Mary said. Emily was careful not to let her emotions show, because she knew it would look like she was pouting. “Thanks,” Lisa said to Mary as she left. A moment later Chase came into the room, escorting an older woman, about half a head shorter than Chase. “Mrs Evans, these are your students,” she said. Mrs Evans, dressed in a black leotard, with tights, a long-sleeved, flannel shirt over it, looked over the students. “Thank you, Miss Morgan,” Mrs Evans said with an accent that Emily was willing to bet was fake. “Mary, if Mrs Evans needs anything, please give her a hand.” “Yes Miss Morgan.” Mary was being given a lot of extra duties, Emily thought. “I will see you later Mrs Evans,” Chase said, pausing before she left to look towards Emily. She winked and then was gone. “Get in a line students, tallest on the right smallest on the left,” Mrs Evans said. The three women laughed as they took a position on the right. Mary moved about, taking the children by their shoulders and putting them into their places. Emily was near the end of the line, between Becky and another actual child who was just a touch shorter than Emily (though Emily knew the girl would be taller soon enough, children grew fast). “Ballet is an art, and one I take seriously,” Mrs Evans said in her faux accent, walking down the line. “But it is also a fine form of exercise, and that is what I will be focusing on. Perhaps some of the younger students might one day…” She stopped in front of Emily, looking down at her. Emily looked back up at her, not liking Mrs Evans at all. “Why is she not in a diaper?” “That’s what I want to know too,” Becky said from Emily’s side. Emily enjoyed a quick fantasy of doing some ultimately harmless but somewhat painful injury to Becky. The three woman laughed among themselves, looking down the line at Emily. A few of the children laughed too. Mary stepped forward. “Ummm, Mrs Evans, Emily is not in the daycare. She’s an employee here.” “What?” Mrs Evans asked. “Who would want her to work for them?” Emily decided she would save time and start loathing Mrs Evans now. Mary seemed a little embarrassed as she said, “Miss Morgan.” Mrs Evans’ eyes widened. She then stepped away from Emily and said, “Very well. Students, make sure you have some space. We’ll do some stretching.” “Aren’t you going to put her in a diaper?” Becky demanded. “Hush Becky,” Mary said as she began to shift the children about. Emily had never thought that ballet was easy, and while she was not interested in dance, she knew the dancers worked hard. She experienced that firsthand that day. Mrs Evans was a real piece of work, finding fault in everything Emily did, expressing nothing but disappointment. She knew that the woman was picking on her. Jeremy, the male little, was clumsy and took time to catch on, but she had lots of praise for him. Emily was pleased when the class was over. Less pleased when Mary said she could shower with the other adults, or come to the daycare and get a quick bath. Emily hated showering with bigs, but she was not going down to the daycare and get bathed. The shower room was in the subbasement, actually close to the office where she had worked, for a very short time, with Jessica. Emily had to ask one of the women to help her with the shower controls. “Here you go Emily,” the woman said with a smile. “Want me to help you wash up?” She said it lightheartedly and was mostly joking. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be fine.” She gave Emily a pat on the head and went to her own shower. “I think you should be with the rest of the children,” Mrs Evans had come in as well, undressed, her thin, bony frame looming over Emily. Emily stepped into the spray of water. “Yes Mrs Evans,” she said. “I’ll speak to Miss Morgan about this,” she warned, turning to another of the shower stalls. The young woman who had helped Emily leaned over and said in a soft voice, “Don’t worry, Miss Morgan’s always gonna be on your side.” Emily nodded and wondered just what having Chase on her side meant. Later that afternoon Chase came into John’s office where Emily was working. She leaned over her and asked, “Did you enjoy your dance lesson?” Emily looked up at her. “No.” Chase smiled. “Mrs Evans says if you are properly diapered you will do better.” Chase patted her on the head. Emily thought about that. “Just how does she think that will help? If anything I think a diaper would make it harder to dance.” “It would make you cuter,” John suggested, “cuter makes you a better dancer. At least with strippers, I’ve found that true.” He looked up from his computer and smiled at Emily. Emily decided that John was more open-minded than she had hoped. Probably because he was a big computer nerd and they had that in common. A bond that knew no height. “That may be true,” Chase said, ignoring John, “but Mrs Evans believes you are spending too much time trying not to wet yourself, so a diaper would remove that worry. She said you were on the verge of wetting yourself the entire class.” “That is a lie,” Emily told her. “I agree with Emily,” John said. “Haven’t had a wet chair in here after all.” Chase looked towards John. Emily wondered if she was mad. If she was, she did not show it. “I do believe that Mrs Evans is” she paused “concerned about her students’ well being, perhaps that is colouring her observation.” Emily almost snorted but kept her peace. “Well, hopefully in the coming classes you two might come to an understanding. I am sure you’ll come to like Mrs Evans Emily. She’ll be here twice a week, so plenty of opportunity.” “Wonderful,” Emily said. One more class, only one more class, she thought. Wednesday passed quickly, she spent most of the day working with John. However, Thursday was the second ballet class. The t-shirt Chase had for her that day read ‘Loading Diaper… Please Wait’ with a progress bar that showed it at 75%. Everyone in the class thought it was adorable. The fussing over Emily must have made Rebecca jealous for she tripped Emily twice, and actually pushed into her a table. At that point Mary picked the child put and put her in a corner. Mrs Evans was at first on Rebecca’s side, until she noticed the displeased stares she was receiving from the adults. Emily thought it that they just did not want to get in trouble with Chase were she to be hurt, but even so, it was nice to have them side with her. Emily was never, ever going to miss those ballet classes. On Friday Chase took her out for lunch again, and again she fed Emily about half her meal before letting Emily finish the rest herself. When she left the building Friday night, she said a silent goodbye to it. If she succeeded, no, when she succeeded, Emily would miss the place a little, and the people, but she knew if she stayed much longer Chase would have her back in diapers and in a nursery. She ran up to her apartment as soon as the driver dropped her off. First, she went through her bug-out bag, made sure her passport and other things were ready, that she had forgotten nothing. Then she sat down behind her computer, turned it on and reached for her phone. “Showtime,” she said. Monday morning Chase came into the office, early as usual. She walked through the front doors, the security guard opening them for her. “Good morning Fred,” she said in greeting. “Morning Miss Morgan,” he told her. “Looks like it is going to rain.” Chase paused, looked back at the sky. “Maybe Fred.” She gave him a smile and walked to the elevators. In her office, she sat down and turned on her computer. There was a lot of work to do, nascent partnerships to hammer out, acquisitions to make, and deals to finalise. She smiled as she thought about the work she and Emily would be undertaking. She would take Emily out for lunch today, she decided. Italian. She could just picture Emily’s messy face. There might even be an opportunity to spill on her clothing which would make a bib necessary in the future. As Chase worked, she heard the sound of other people coming into the office, the soft susurration of far-off conversations. She went and got herself a cup of coffee and was just about to compose an email when her cell phone rang. She took it from her jacket pocket and checked the caller ID. It was the driver she had been sending to pick up and drop off Emily. Answering it, she said, “What is it?” “Miss Morgan, Emily was not waiting for me in front of the building this morning.” “What?” “I also went up to her apartment and knocked on the door, but there was no answer.” “Just a moment,” Chase told him, putting him on hold. She dialled Emily’s number, listened to the phone ring about twelve times before she cut the connection and returned to the driver. “You sure you knocked the right door?” “Apartment 403 Miss Morgan.” He sounded a little insulted. Chase thought about it, about what the driver could do. “Alright, come back to the office then.” “Yes, Miss Morgan.” He hung up. Chase looked at her phone for a few seconds, then put it aside and turned to her computer. Emily had shown herself unwilling to answer phone calls in the past. Chase composed an email. ‘The mature thing to do if you are going to take a day off is to let people know. You owe your driver an apology, Emily. Respond back as soon as possible before I think you are acting willfully naughty.’ She smiled as she wrote the last part and hit send. Focused on her work, she did not really pay any attention to the time until Lisa came in to put some papers on her desk. “Where’s Emily?” she asked. Chase looked up from her work, at the time, and then her email. There was no response from Emily. “She’s taking the day off,” Chase told Lisa. “What? She’s only been here a month. She can be a lazy thing, just like a little.” Chase smiled. “In all fairness, she has been working hard, and she was working the weekend before last.” Chase counted attending the party as work. Lisa seemed somewhat mollified by that. Chase watched Lisa go and then turned back to her work. It was odd that Emily had not responded. Perhaps she was sick? Chase felt a little worried but told herself to calm down. After all, Emily had likely been sick before. She had her neighbours to lend a hand if necessary. Still, this was one of the many reasons Chase thought Emily should be living with her, where Chase could make sure she was always cared for. She suddenly wondered if perhaps Emily was not taking a day off, but not coming back at all. Ridiculous she told herself. Emily was loyal to her friends. She would not leave them to chance as long as Chase owned the building. She paused in her work. Ridiculous, she told herself again, then reached for her phone and dialled the number for her financial management office. She asked to speak to the senior manager, gave her name. A few seconds later she was talking to Izzy Aston. “Miss Morgan,” Izzy said, “what can I do for you?” “I wanted to speak to you about one of my investments. A building I had you purchase about a month ago. I would like to know its status.” “The status?” “Yes. I suppose I want to know if the company still owns it.” She felt stupid saying it. It was not as if it was something that could be misplaced. It was a building. “Just a moment,” he said, sounding somewhat confused. Chase heard the sound of typing. A pause, more typing. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid it has been sold, Miss Morgan.” “What?” Chase demanded. “I am sorry. But there was nothing said about not selling it.” From his defensive tone, Chase guessed she had sounded more than a little adversarial. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice even. “That is true.” She had never thought of it. Why would she? “But a sale like this, usually I would have been consulted.” “Yes, you should have been,” he answered, sounding a little uncertain. “Miss Morgan, can you give me about thirty minutes to look into this, so I can answer your question?”
 “Of course.” She wanted to demand immediate answers. “I’ll call you back in half an hour.” Chase hung up and sat back in her chair. It was impossible that Emily had managed to buy the building. Then who? Lyle. It had to be him, He had learned about Emily, had thrown a vast about of money at the management company to get them to sell him the building immediately. Now he had control over the apartment, and without it, she had no control over Emily. I should have never brought her to that party, Chase chastised herself. She wanted to get up, to go and find Emily, to save her from Lyle. Was she already in his nursery? Was he spanking that bottom that only Chase should be allowed to spank? Was he diapering her at that very moment? She found herself standing up behind her desk. Taking a deep breath, she returned to her chair. Wait, Chase told herself, wait until Izzy gets back to you. Wait until you have all the information. When her phone rang she almost knocked the handset to the floor as she grabbed for it. “Hello,” she said. “Miss Morgan, Izzy, I have the details.” Chase nodded even though he could not see her. “Tell me.” “Well, we use a piece of pattern predicting software to help manage the resources the company owns.” “Pattern predicting?” Chase asked, a sinking sensation in her stomach. “Yes, it is quite brilliant. However, it’s apparently not perfect. Over the last month, there have been several real estate purchases, made all over the country, properties similar to the one you had us buy. Each time they were sold soon after they were bought, and always at a loss.” “I see,” Chase said, beginning to understand. “Yes. The software saw those losses and predicted that there might be a future correction in similar real estate.” “Is there going to be a correction?” “No. I can understand why the software predicted it, but it was just an unlucky set of transactions, a perfect storm as you will.” “Yes, unlucky,” Chase said dully. “About a week ago the property was flagged as a possible loss, and a few days later it was flagged as something we should divest ourselves of as soon as we could.” “And then someone made an offer,” Chase said. “Yes.” “But, even if the software indicated it should be sold, shouldn’t you have checked things out before selling?” “Ah, yes,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “As it happens the employee who took the call was new. He did follow proper procedures but lacked some experience, and perhaps he was a little influenced by the commission bonus. The offer was time-sensitive, immediate sale required. The property sold for a thirty percent profit, which is not insignificant. If we could make thirty percent after a month on all our investments…” “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Mr Aston. Please review policy so we don’t end up again being misled by software, in case there is another perfect storm.” “Yes Miss Morgan.” Chase hung up the phone. “Oh Emily, you played me,” she said softly, confident that if she looked into it, she would find Emily Black had a part in the developing the software. Emily had dropped little financial bombs all over the country, their perfect placement setting ripples in motion that allowed her to influence the software and buy that building. And now Chase had no leverage against her. At least it was not Lyle. Chase leaned back in her chair. A smart little, able to go back to living her life the same way before Chase had ever found her. After a minute Chase got up from her chair, strode from her office. “I’m going out, for the rest of the morning, perhaps the whole day,” she told Lisa. “Yes Miss Morgan. Where are you going?” Chase did not answer, she nearly ran to the elevator, hit the call button hard enough that she almost cracked the plastic. Would Emily even still be there? She might have taken a plane anywhere in the world as soon as she bought the building. I might never see her again, Chase thought. Damn. Chase two rabbits and you catch none. Damn. The doors opened. She almost jumped in and nearly punched the button for the lobby. On the way down people got onto the elevator and talked to her but she hardly heard them. Someone asked her what cute shirt she would have Emily wear at the next ballet class. She turned eyes that must have been angry on the poor woman. The woman backed up, looking as she might flee. Chase mumbled an apology and nearly ran through the lobby. The drive to the undeveloped area seemed to take forever. She kept looking into the review mirror, at the back seat and the empty child seat. Was Emily getting into a cab right now? About to head to the airport? Should she call the police, report her as a runaway? But what if the police took her into custody? What if they sent her to an orphanage or a juvenile facility? Chase did not know what to do, and she hated that feeling. Fat raindrops began to fall, slowly. Chase reduced her speed and ground her teeth. After what seemed like an eternity she pulled up in front of the building. She hit her brakes hard enough to cause the tires to squeal on the wet pavement, splash water up from the road. Almost hit by that water was a big, holding a little in her arms, who gave Chase a hard look as she got out of the SUV. Chase returned it and watched the woman drop her gaze. She walked into the building, the building she had owned only the previous week. Now it was Emily’s building. Chase almost ran up the stairs, thinking she might try to kick in Emily’s door. Would someone call the police were she to do that? Making herself stand still and consider the situation Chase thought about what she could do, how she could find out if Emily were even still there, and if so was how to get her to open her door. That was when she heard the sound of iron on iron. She followed it to the back of the building, and out into Gus’ smithy. She saw the heavily muscled inbetweener working at a huge anvil, bare-chested except for a leather apron. The falling rain hissed as it hit hot metal. He stopped his work, looked at the piece he was working on, then put the thick iron bar he had been hammering into the forge. That was when he saw her. “Miss Morgan,” he said, politely. “Gus,” she answered, calmer than she felt. “I’ve almost finished your order, be about another week.” Chase nodded, then shook her head. “That’s not why I am here. Emily did not come to work today.” It sounded lame to her. Did he know what was happening? Had Emily told him? Did he know it was Chase that had threatened to raise his rent, kick him out? “Well,” he smiled, put a hand on the back of his head, looked a little embarrassed, “we did have something of a blowout last night. Emily was not drinking any heavier than she usually does so she is probably not sick, but well, try not to hold it against her. We’ve been under a bit of stress recently. I bet she just needed some time off.” “Oh?” Chase asked, trying to keep her tone neutral, but her heart was thumping, and she was shouting in her mind, ‘she was still here last night.’ “Emily did not tell you?” Chase shook her head. Gus looked back at the forge, grabbed a set of tongs and repositioned the metal, then leaned against the anvil. “About a month ago we found out someone had bought the building, was threatening to increase our rent or even kick us out to turn the place into condos.” “That would have been unfortunate.” Emily had not told them. She did not recall, however, threatening to turn the place into condos. Why had Emily not told them? Loyalty? Some sort of fondness on Emily's part? A desire to protect Chase's reputation? Gus snorted. “Tell me about it. Not a lot of places that have the space we have here. Where the hell would I find a place to set up another smithy after all?” She nodded. “So like I said, a lit bit of stress here, but late Saturday we found that the owner was not going to do anything like that. Was going offer us the opportunity set up a co-op.” “A co-op?” “We’d all have a share in the building. Not enough so that we share in the profits, but we would have a say in what happens to the building in the future. We can afford to buy into that.” “Fortunate.” “Damn right. So we’ve been celebrating pretty heavily since then.” “I’m glad you no longer have to worry,” Chase told him, feeling a twinge of a guilty conscience. “Thanks.” Chase looked about. “Are you sure that Emily is okay?” “She should be.” “I am a little worried about her. I would feel better if I knew she was okay. She is my employee after all.” Gus stood up straight, grabbed the tongs and once again shifted the metal. “I’m kind of the building super around here,” he told her, “I do have keys to all the apartments.” “Could I ask you to let me in?” She did not know if Gus would agree. She certainly could not force the inbetweener. “I guess it would be okay,” he said after a moment. Chase was careful not to smile but only nodded. “I would appreciate it.” Gus went and got a ring of keys and then took Chase up to the fourth floor. At apartment 403 he knocked on the door. “Emily, you in there?” Chase hoped he would get an answer, hoped that Emily would open the door for Gus. No answer came. Gus put the key the lock, turned it, then opened the door. Chase looked over his head into the room. It was neat and tidy, spotless. She realised it was the first time she had seen the inside of Emily’s apartment. Gus entered, calling, “Emily.” Chase followed, looking around. The apartment had been built primarily for inbetweeners. Chase could see a few step stools around, small modifications that Emily had made so she could live there comfortably. Chase’s head nearly brushed the ceiling. It seemed empty. She saw the envelope with Gus’ name on it about the same time Gus did. If it would not have been rude, and perhaps ill-advised, she might have tried to snatch it from him. As it was, she had to stand there as he opened it up and read it. A flash of concern, then a smile and a laugh. “What?” Chase asked. “She says she had to go, some kind of family issue, then she wrote that if I bothered to look at my email, I would already know it.” “Family issue?” “Doesn’t say what. Will be gone for at least two weeks. Maybe longer.” She could be anywhere, Chase thought. She should have had the clinic put a tracking chip in her, or was that only for pets? She should have not bothered with all the games and just taken Emily with her from the first. She could be safely in her nursery right now instead of god knows where doing who knew what. “Oh. there’s a message for you,” Gus told her. “What?” Her tone was a little too eager. “She said that if you were to come by that, I should tell you she left something of yours in the closet in her bedroom.” Chase looked about. Gus indicated a door. She thanked him and went and opened the door. Emily’s bedroom was amply sized, for a little. The bed looked tiny to Chase, but she supposed it would be a twin for most inbetweeners. It was low to the floor so Emily would be able to get in and out of it without dealing with a drop. Currently, it was stripped of sheets, just a bare mattress. She really should have had a rubber sheet on it, Chase thought, just in case. Opening the door to the closet Chase found it had been modified. The bar set to what was probably eye height for Emily, a few shelves above it, a small ladder attached to the wall. The closet was bare, but for the white sailor dress, hanging there, and on the shelf above it the other pieces of the outfit. A note was taped to the dress. Chase peeled it off. On it was written, ‘Thank you for letting me borrow your dress, Emily.’ “Polite as always,” Chase said softly. Taking the dress from the closet, she lifted it to her face, smelt the faint scent of Emily’s soap. Tears prickled her eyes, but she wiped them away, then grabbed the undergarments, the shoes and the purse, folding them into a bundle. “Get everything?” Gus asked as she came from the room. “Yes, thank you,” she said. He showed her from the apartment, locked the door behind them, then saw her to the building’s lobby. “Like I said, a week.” “What?” “Your order,” he explained, “it will be done in a week.” “Yes, thank you,” Chase told him, and then left. Apartment 317 was one of the smallest apartments in the building. Emily had rented it at the same time she had rented 403. At first in the hope that Catherine would come to her senses and come to work with Emily. And then she had kept it as a place to hide out, in case some big got a little too inquisitive. It was how she would have dealt with Chase if Chase had not bought the building, forcing her to deal with the monster directly instead of hiding from it. She had considered leaving for real, she had everything she needed to do so, but this was her home, and she liked living there, liked her neighbours. She saw no reason to let Chase drive her from it. That would have been at least a partial victory for Chase. She sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes of stuff (taken from 403 to make it look empty and deserted) and watched Chase leave. She was not so foolish as to stand by the window but had placed a webcam there, so she might see the comings and goings below. Emily had seen Chase come, and now was watching her go. It looked like she was carrying the dress, so she supposed Gus had let her into the apartment. She did not blame him. She was glad that no one knew that she was the person who rented 317. Most everyone probably thought it was empty, too small to be rented out. If they even thought of it at all. No one was going to bother her. She would be quiet for the next week, she had food to last that long, and make sure Chase was not coming back, believed that she was gone. When she returned to 403 her neighbours would have to be told a story to keep them from accidentally giving her away to Chase. She could say that the job did not work out, but that Chase really wanted to hire her back. That should keep them quiet about her when the Amazon was around. Assuming she ever came around again. She watched Chase leave. She thought that the Amazon looked sad standing in the rain. It made Emily feel a little guilty, but she quickly dispelled the guilt, reminding herself that Chase had threatened her friends to get Emily to work for her. The woman did not deserve her sympathy. That thought helped assuage the guilt a little. Chase took the rest of Monday off, and when she came in on Tuesday, she got little work done. She sat at her desk and wondered where Emily had gone. There were places were a little might avoid the larger people, though such places were in decline as the larger folk went where they would. When Lisa told her that Mrs Evans had come to teach the class Chase almost told Lisa to send the woman away. Without Emily what was the point? However she had promised the woman employment, and she had staff and the children from the daycare who were enjoying those classes. Chase told Lisa to deal with the woman and went back to her dark thoughts. That night she made going to Linda’s place an excuse to return to the building. Chase’s heart was not into discussing clothing, and she had left, telling the seamstress she needed some time to think. Then she had gone up to apartment 403 and listened outside the door, hoping to hear something from within. Wednesday morning Richard came into her office. “Snap out of it,” he told her, slapping his hand against her desk. “Pardon?” she asked, an edge to her voice. He did not back down. “It’s obvious to me that Emily’s bailed on you, that your chase two rabbits and catch both plan failed. Suck it up.” “Excuse me?” she demanded, suddenly angry. “I got both 3T and Evertech asking me why things have suddenly halted. You’ve got deals that need to be handled, and you have to handle them. I’m sorry Emily’s gone, but she’s gone. Stop sulking and get your ass in gear.” Chase’s anger evaporated, or more to the point she directed it at herself. She had been sulking. She had been moping around because Emily had slipped her leash. It was upsetting, but she had responsibilities, and she had been ignoring them. “You’re right,” she told Richard. “Damn straight. Now get your ass in gear before I kick it.” She smiled at him. “You’re pushing it, Richard.” He returned the smile. “A chance I am willing to take.” By the end of the day, Chase had repaired all the damage her funk had caused. Thursday she had things pushed ahead, well on track. She missed having Emily about, both Miss Black and EmEm, but she had built the company up on her own, she did not need Emily to grow it. She returned home Thursday evening, pleasantly tired. As she sat down at her kitchen table, glass of wine in her hand, she looked at some of the paperwork she had left there the previous week. She picked up the sales notice for a three-floor suite, only a few blocks away from where she currently lived. She would have put an offer on it, had Emily not left. It had a beautiful room on the second level that Chase had planned to turn into Emily’s nursery. No need to buy it now. She smiled as she recalled her plan to get Emily there. A housewarming party. Emily would have had to attend of course. And then Chase would arrange some reason for Emily to have to stay the night. She could just imagine the look on Emily’s face when Chase brought her into the nursery. She had already done some research and had found a perfect crib mattress. She imagined it would be the best night’s sleep Emily had ever had, and chase would get her to admit that. Sighing Chase shook her head. So much for that dream. “Where have you gone Emily?” she asked, but this time it was not a lament of loss, but just a simple question. She got up and walked to her windows, looked at the far-off lights of the buildings of the undeveloped area. “Where would you have gone?” She could understand why Emily had chosen to live there. The place had been built for inbetweeners, and being near the protected greenbelt made it nearly impossible to develop anything there. Likely few big people would ever go there; expect at certain times of the day to meet Linda or in the evenings to visit clubs. Set times like that would be easy for Emily to work around. Where would she find another place like that, one where she had the sort of infrastructure to continue her work? There could not be too many places like that. Perhaps that meant Emily would return. But likely Chase would never know. Chase frowned. Or perhaps it was not a question if she would return, but had she ever left? It would be daring. It would also keep Emily in a familiar place, and Chase thought most littles, deep down, wanted security. Clever. “Too clever,” Chase said with a smile. “Sometimes you can be too clever.” She got her phone, called Izzy Aston. Got an answering service. Got them to put her through to his personal line. “Miss Morgan,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “Mr Aston, do you still have copies of the financial information on that building?” He did not answer immediately and then said, “We should.” “Send everything you have to me as soon as you can.” “As soon…” “Tomorrow is fine.” She hung up. Perhaps she was kidding herself, but she had a good feeling. And it was the only possibility left that meant she could find Emily. She grabbed at it like a drowning person grabbed onto a life preserver. Busy with a deluge of work, it was not until midday that Chase was able to look over the records that Izzy had sent her. It did not take her long to find what she was looking for. Apartment 403 and 317, every month an automatic payment had come from the same bank. She could not be sure of the account, but it had to be the same. Chase would not accept that it could not be. Chase had to restrain herself from just going over and banging on the door to 317. If Emily found out Chase knew, then she would likely leave for real. Chase could not be positive Emily as in 317. Perhaps she had rented the second apartment just for storage. Or maybe it was a trap, a place Emily could watch, just to get a feeling for how much effort was being put into catching her. It seemed the kind of complicated trap Emily might set up. So she had to be sure before she tried anything. After a moment she opened her desk drawer and looked through a stack of business cards she kept. It did not take her long to find the name of the detective she had hired a month ago to look into Emily Black. She was going to have another job for him. Chase returned on Saturday. Emily might have missed it but for the roar of a big engine. She checked the webcam feed and saw Chase, sitting astride her huge motorcycle, revving the engine, talking to Candy. Hard to say from a distance and with the web cam’s quality, but she thought that Chase looked happy. She had only been back once since the Monday, and now that she came again it seemed it was just for her motorcycle. Emily told herself she was not upset, even though she was, somewhat. It had been kind of flattering, in a scary way, the way Chase had spent so much time on her. And less than a week and she was already over it. Well, good for her, Emily thought. And good for me. At least she won’t be bothering me anymore. I can go back to my old apartment sooner than I planned. Below Chase put on a helmet and after a quick conversation with Candy was speeding away, out of the camera’s frame, Emily ran to the window, peering out as Chase shot away down the road. That was one heck of a fast bike, she thought, watching until Chase turned a corner. She ducked away from the window, returned to her computer, worked while waiting to see if Chase would come back. She did. She spoke to Candy, then rolled her bike back into Candy’s garage. Chase really did seem happy. Probably already found a replacement for Emily. She wondered who was getting spoon (fork) fed prime rib and getting pushed on a swing by Chase now? Then she told herself she was not jealous, not even a little. Through the webcam she watched Chase get into her SUV and drive off. It looked as if she had not even come into the building Emily thought with a frown. Some distance from the building Chase slowed down, stopped and then unlocked the doors of her SUV. A man, about six and a half feet tall, got into the passenger seat. “Well?” Chase asked. He held an SLR digital cameral with a long lens towards her, flipping the display screen up. “Watched the window you told me to, got some good pictures. She peeked out just as you were riding off.” Chase looked at the screen, at Emily. She smiled. They were good photos. There was a look of wonder in Emily’s eyes, her mouth hanging open. “I wonder if there is some kind of child safety seat you can put on a motorcycle?” “Wouldn’t know. This what you need?” “Indeed it is.” After a moment Chase asked, “I need to get into that apartment.” “Not my area, not interested.” Chase took a roll of bills from her riding jacket pocket and dropped the cash into his lap. “Maybe you know someone?” He picked up the roll, bounced it in his hand. “Sounds like you want to do something illegal, so I can’t help you. But maybe I know a few names. And maybe on the drive back I’ll write them down on a piece of paper. And maybe that paper will accidentally fall out of my pocket onto the floor.” “And perhaps I’ll never see it because I’ll send the SUV out to be detailed and cleaned afterwards.” He nodded. “Maybe this person is a shade under six feet and cute. That going to be an issue?” Chase started the car up. “Not for me.” Emily woke up Monday morning, feeling a little groggy. She yawned, shifted over in her bed, stretching a little. She looked over at the clock sitting on the bedside table. Still early. “Almost like I still think I need to go to work,” she said to herself. “I guess you enjoyed it then.” Emily turned towards the voice slowly, afraid to look as if it would make it true. Just like that time Chase had come into the bar. Chase was sitting on her bed. “This better be a dream,” she said, hoping it was. Chase looked at her for several seconds, then smiled. “The best kind of dream or a nightmare?” Emily did not answer that, instead asking, “How did you get in here?” “Who knows. Maybe you wished me here.” Emily closed her eyes and sighed. “I was worried about you,” Chase said. “You left without saying goodbye. That was rude.” She opened her eyes. “I’m fine, and I’m sorry, so can you please leave?” “It was brilliant.” “Pardon?” “Your plan, It was brilliant.” She smiled. “I could count on the fingers of one hand the people in my company who could have made that work. I never thought that you would be able to buy the building away from me.” “Thank you,” Emily said after a moment, warily. “And then staying here, right under my nose, as it were. That was just a little too clever.” Emily did not answer. Chase smiled and said, “I do have one question though.” “What is that?” “How did you get the new guy when you made your offer?” Emily could not help but smile a little. “I called five times and kept hanging up until I got him.” Chase stared at her for several seconds, then began to laugh. “So simple.” “Simple is sometimes the best.” After several seconds Chase stopped laughing. She leaned back, the bed creaking under her weight. “You won.” “Pardon?” “You win. You played by my rules, and you beat me. I don’t know about all littles, but I know that you are mature and quite capable of taking care of yourself.” “Thank you,” Emily said once more. Hearing Chase say that made her feel victorious, but, she had to admit, a little sad. Not seeing Chase again, not matching wits with her, she was going to miss that. Not very much of course, but a tiny bit. She had realised that over the past week. Chase nodded. Sat up straight. “Of course it does not matter.” “What?” Emily asked after a moment. “I’ve watched you these past weeks, and I’ve realised something.” “What?” “It must be exhausting to be you.” “Pardon?” Chase looked down at her, grabbed the covers and pulled them off. Emily made an effort to hold onto them, but Chase easily pulled them from her hands. She lay on the bottom sheet in her panties and the oversized t-shirt she slept in. She sat up against the pillows, pulling her knees up against her chest. Chase stared at her for a few seconds and then said, “You’re always ready, always watching, always considering what you say and do. How can you live like that?” Emily did not answer. “And you are going to make a mistake you can’t recover from, sooner or later Emily.” “I won’t.” “Oh Emily, at least don’t lie to yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. And because you don’t have anyone to help you your mistakes are sure to be that much dire. Can you say paying for both the apartments from the same bank was not a mistake?” Emily shook her head again, but it was a weak motion. “You are going to drink too much at that shit hole you call a bar and end up pissing yourself on the way home, and then every one of your neighbours is going to say, ‘She’s just like all the other helpless littles, and she needs to be taken care of.’” Emily shook her head again but wondered if what Chase said was true. “I suppose Linda might make a good mommy, she would certainly be able to have you help her model all those nice outfits. I see Gus as a stronger daddy though, but I shudder to think he would probably make you a wrought iron crib.” Emily thought about how recently Linda had come up with a new outfit for her, instead of discussing it, like they had before. And Candy had told her to wash her hands, not pointed out the soap and left it at that, but actually to wash her hands. Her just spending time around an Amazon like Chase had changed how they viewed her. What Chase was saying was possible. “But maybe they won’t,” Chase said, surprising Emily. “They like you. They know you. They might ignore something like that, say that drunken pissing or whatever it might be is something that could happen to anyone.” Emily nodded. “That’s right.” “Yes, that’s right, but what about all the bigs who are coming around here for Linda’s clothing. Can you keep avoiding them?” “I… maybe… yes.” “And,” Chase continued as if Emily had said nothing, “one of them is certain to ask Linda, ‘That little blonde girl, who is her mother?’” Chase spoke in a nasally, high tone that Emily thought of as suburban posh. In any other circumstance, she might have laughed. “And Linda, bless her, will tell them that you live by yourself.” Chase shook her head. Emily could not deny it could happen. “Or perhaps you’ll run into a Jessica who is not an idiot, or the next time that you are about to be spanked no one will be there to stop it. Then what?” Emily did not have an answer. Chase did. “You’ll end up in some suburban nursery, or just a small room that someone has pushed a crib into, or maybe some intercity apartment with a teenage ‘mother’ who thought she was ready for the responsibility. Or perhaps a state orphanage.” It was a dark set of possibilities that Chase described. “You might end up being an object lesson for a child. Have you ever seen that? Some little being made an object of ridicule, so some child will see that they need to master their potty training.” Emily had heard of that, though she had never seen it. Or she assumed she had never seen it. For all, she knew that was what happened to all the littles in the care of bigs she had seen around the apartment building. “And you’ll certainly not enjoy the fine things in life, sadly few littles ever do. Hand me downs that never fit quite right, low-quality diapers, baby food.” Chase smiled and gave a little shudder. “Though I suppose if you are lucky enough to be taken by one of the Amazons who come here you may still enjoy having Linda make your clothing for you… maybe.” “That won’t happen,” Emily said, but she was surprised at how uncertain her voice sounded. “Really?” Chase asked, arching an eyebrow. Emily said nothing. Chase reached out and grabbed her by the ankle, began to pull her close. Emily made a halfhearted effort to stop her, caught at the sheet below her, but Chase easily overcame the small amount of resistance. She pulled Emily up, sat her on her lap, and wrapped her arms around the small woman. Emily felt Chase place her chin atop her head for a moment. “I would spoil you rotten,” Chase said. Emily supposed she would, and as much as the thought of being spoiled appealed, she did not want it in the way Chase meant. “Your nursery would be large, and well lit, full of beautiful things, and all your clothing would be made for you. And I’d make sure you got prime rib from the Modern Well at least once a week.” “Which you’d cut up and feed me,” Emily said softly. “Of course, I want to make sure all that yummy steak gets in your tummy.” She reached down and rubbed Emily’s belly, then she grasped the bottom of the t-shirt and yanked it cleanly off, tossing it aside, leaving Emily naked but for her panties. The room was cool, but Chase once more hugged her close, and Chase was warm. “I’d want you to be happy. As happy as I could arrange. Seventy-five percent happy, maybe even eighty.” “Not a hundred percent?” Emily asked a touch of sarcasm in her tone. “Oh Emily, so few people get to be one hundred percent happy.” Emily suspected that Chase considered herself to be a person who got to be one hundred percent happy. Still, she could not deny that seventy-five percent would be pretty good. “And most importantly,” Chase continued, “and that no one else will offer, I need Emily Black to work for me, so unlike everyone else who might take care of you, I only want your diapers full of mush, not your head.” Emily stiffened in Chase’s grasp. Of course, there would be diapers. For a second there she had been thinking to be in Chase’s care might not be so bad, especially compared to the alternatives Chase had laid out. But Chase still wanted her in wet and messy diapers, ultimately no better than a baby for all the others things she had said. “I brought the little surprise you left for me back in your other apartment. How about we get you dressed up in that sailor dress and we’ll go down, and you can thank Linda for making you such a pretty outfit and tell her how much you love it.” “No,” Emily said softly. She was picturing the surprise in Linda’s eyes, but she was sure there would be a bit of pleasure there as well, seeing the dress she had made being worn so well. Linda would accept it and from that point on Emily would just be another little whose ‘mommy’ brought her to have clothing made. That would hurt. “No?” Chase said, and she kissed the top of Emily’s head. “You don’t want Linda to be successful? I was thinking of making her my personal seamstress. It would help her, and there is some protection in that, just in case one of the bigs who visits her gets some ideas in their heads about taking care of an inbetweener.” Emily suspected that Chase herself had had such thoughts, and things like that were known to happen to some inbetweeners, And Linda was dealing with an increasing number of bigs. Dammit she thought, feeling more and more boxed in. “Make sure you smile and curtsey, so Linda knows you are happy,” Chase said, hugging Emily almost painfully tight for a moment. “And then we’ll go down and see Gus, and you can thank him for always helping you.” Gus! Gus who was all muscle. Gus who worked as a bouncer in the clubs. Gus who had put plenty of bigs in their place. Gus who would make sure no big gave Linda any problems. Gus would get her clear of Chase, in a second. All she had to do was ask. Chase had screwed up, lost in her thoughts of humiliating Emily in front of all her friends. Then Emily wondered what Chase would do. She might, Emily thought, call the police. She could tell them Gus had kidnapped her little girl. Emily had been working for Chase for a month. Plenty of witnesses would speak to that. It would be no problem for Chase to say she was Emily’s guardian. And if the police believed that then Gus would end up in so much trouble. She could not do that to him. Again, she would have to behave just like Chase said, give Gus no reason to think she did not want to be in Chase’s care. She suddenly pictured a look of betrayal crossing his face, as if all the time they had known each other Emily had been tricking him. And then acceptance, of Emily as just another of those littles who could not handle the adult world. And then dismissal as she was classed within a group of people he had no time for. That was going to hurt a lot. “We’ll be back here of course,” Chase told her, “and you’ll have an opportunity to tell all your other neighbours about how happy you are. Everyone except that bartender. He is strange, and I will not take you to a bar like that.” Emily almost laughed for she may have drunk her last gin and tonic. Unless she did something. “Can you give me a little time to think about it?” she asked, keeping her voice soft, guileless. Chase had given her time before. Emily would just need a few hours to disappear, to muddy her trail. “Oh Emily,” Chase said, sounding sad, “I told you that you were bound to make a mistake that you could not recover from. Do you think, now that I have hugged you so tight that I could ever let you go? Especially since you’ve already spent so much time trying to get away from me?” Emily’s eyes widened. “That’s not fair,” she cried and was amazed at how much a little girl she sounded. Chase laughed and whisked Emily’s panties down her legs. “I know the adult world often seems that way, but it is for the best.” She carelessly tossed Emily’s panties across the room where by chance or design they found their way into a garbage pail. “Now let’s get you dressed,” Chase said as she stood. “I know you don’t have any diapers here, but maybe Linda will have a few, stashed away for a baby who might need a change. Oh, Emily, we are going to be so busy.” Emily, helpless in Chase’s arms could say nothing. The fate she had so long tried to avoid had caught up with her. And she honestly was no longer sure if that was completely a bad thing. The hot days of summer had faded into the cold of fall. While the nights brought with them a chill that hinted at winter, the days could still be warm. It was on one of those warm, sunny days, around noon that Chase Morgan had taken a walk during lunch. She was dressed in a dark red skirt, with a cream blouse, a sweater of green tied around her neck in a jaunty manner. The modest heels of her oxfords clicked sharply on the sidewalk, and the stroller she pushed rolled along on silent wheels. People smiled at her when the passed, and Chase returned those smiles. A number of people who knew her said hello. She had just crossed the street and was beginning back towards her building when she heard someone call, “Chase!” She recognised the voice. Turned to see Lyle Redmond on the other side of the street, holding the hand of a little. Lyle looked both ways, then dashed across the street, pulling the little, Tiffy, along with him. The girl had to take three steps to every one of Lyle’s, but Chase could see that he had a tight hold on her, and was not going to let her fall. She could not fault him for how he took care of his girls. They were both dressed well, Lyle in a navy suit, Tiffy in a cute, dark brown dress. He gave Tiffy a lift as he stepped up over the curb. Her short dress skirt puffed up revealing the little’s diapers. “Chase, it’s been a while,” he told her, smiling. Chase returned his smile, looked down at Tiffy, then back at him. “I’ve been busy, you know how it is.” He nodded, still smiling. “I do indeed. You’ve made a lot of partnerships recently. I really wish you had agreed to sell.” She smiled. “Nothing wrong with a little competition.” He nodded, returned her smile. It seemed a little forced. “True enough. I’ve heard that you have hired Emily Black. Care to tell me how you managed that?” “Oh, Miss Black and I have a lot in common, a bond if you will. We’re women of the world.” From the stroller, it was possible the occupant made a rude sound, though it could have easily been a burp or a sneeze. Lyle looked towards the stroller. “Is this the little girl you brought to the party?” Chase smiled. “Yes, she is.” She smoothly spun the stroller around so the Lyle could see the occupant. “This is EmEm.” Emily was dressed in a short, pink skirt (a much lighter shade of the red that Chase wore), her thick, white disposable diaper in full view, and wore a pale green sweater. Her little black mary janes were similar in colour and material to Chase’s shoes. Chase was positive that she saw Lyle’s eyes move, his gaze darting from Emily in her stroller to Tiffy at his side. “She’s adorable,” he said. Chase smiled. She had gotten Emily’s hair long enough to do up in little girl bunches on either side of her head. She still was not sure if she wanted to grow Emily’s hair longer yet, the short styles were charming on her. Chase leaned down and pulled the pacifier from Emily’s mouth. “Say hello to Mr Redmond EmEm,” she said. “Hello Mr Redmond,” Emily said, in her pure, sweet voice, just the hint of a lisp in it. That lisp was so perfect, hard to get Emily to produce too, but worth the time. This time she was sure she saw him look from Emily to Tiffy. Chase knew that he was comparing their voices and she knew Emily would win that competition. Of course, there was no competition, and it was wrong to compare daughters because they were both lovely little girls. But Emily was the better. Lyle looked away from Emily, back to Chase as Chase put the pacifier back in Emily’s mouth. “She’s lucky to have you taking care of her.” His light tone seemed forced to Chase. “I’m lucky to have the opportunity. Little EmEm almost got lost from me.” “That would have been terrible.” He almost sounded genuine. Chase nodded. “As enjoyable as it is to speak about our little girls, there is some business I would like to ask about. I don’t suppose you could get Emily Black to find some time for some work for me, could you? I have a big project coming up, and she would be invaluable to it.” Chase smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid that Miss Black is far too busy. I am working on making an offer for the big contract that ‘Sugar and Spice’ has got out. Lyle’s smile actually faded. “My company is making an offer on that as well.” “Is it really?” Chase asked, faking the surprise in her tone. “Well, I am sure that it will be like you said that time, that all your experience will be a major factor.” He nodded, the fake smile back. “Yes, of course. Well, competition is good.” He looked between Chase and Emily. Chase was quite pleased with the feeling of victory. She would have to come up with a special reward for Emily. “I have to run,” he told her, seeming to get over his surprise. “You should come over to the house soon, our girls can have a playdate. We can talk business.” “That sounds nice,” Chase said, enjoying that the lord of the manor was making an entreaty to her. She supposed that made her a queen. He nodded. “It was good to see you. Come along Tiffy,” he said as he led the girl away. Chase watched them go, smiled, and spun the stroller back around, pushing it again towards her building. One of the staff held the door open as Chase came in, directing the stroller into the lobby. She thanked the man and walked towards reception. Claire and Kristen no longer worked there; Chase had promoted them, feeling their experience was of better use elsewhere. Two new young women manned the desk now, a recent hire named Amanda and (somewhat to everyone’s surprise) Jessica King. Jessica had gotten in trouble with her school and was in danger of being sent back a few grades. About a month after Chase had fired her the young woman had come back and literally begged to be given another chance. “Good afternoon Miss Morgan,” Amanda said, bright and chipper. She was a proverbial ray of sunshine and could make even the dourest of visitors smile. “Did you and little EmEm have a good stroll?” she asked as she came around the desk and knelt in front of the stroller. “Yes, most pleasant,” Chase said, smiling as she recalled the look on Lyle’s face. “And little EmEm enjoyed some fresh air in her pretty new outfit.” The soft giggle from the stroller told Chase that once more the ever bright Amanda had gotten to her daughter. “Jessica, come here and take a look at little EmEm’s new outfit.” Chase had told Jessica in no uncertain terms that completing her internship would require good reports from her supervisor, Amanda, so Jessica came out from behind the reception desk. Perhaps not as quick as she might have. Chase would mention that to Amanda. The terms of her second chance were not completely obvious, but if you knew to look you could see how the diaper she wore rounded out her bottom under the skirt, and you could hear the soft plastic rustle when she moved. ‘If you pissed your pants once you might again, I can’t have that,’ Chase had told her. She really had no concerns that Jessica would have such an accident, but she thought it would make Emily more accepting of her diapers if she knew Jessica wore them as well. And while it probably did not, the fact seemed to bring a smile to Emily’s face, which alone made it well worth it. “Yes, it’s very pretty,” Jessica said as she came to stand in front of the stroller. “And look at her bright white diaper,” Amanda exclaimed. Chase suspected that Emily was probably blushing a little, she knew for a fact Jessica was. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” Chase said, pushing the stroller towards the elevators. She spoke to a few more people on her way up, smiled as people expressed delight over Emily, and on the twenty-third floor pushed the stroller into her office suite. There Kristen was waiting. Lisa had been promoted, given a position as a liaison between Chase’s company and the other companies they were entering into partnerships with. She had promoted Kristen to her executive assistant and was so far quite pleased with the young woman. “Good afternoon Miss Morgan, did you and EmEm enjoy your walk?” “Quite pleasant, thank you. Any messages?” “Nothing important, though Mr Julian of Evertech called, he wanted to move the meeting thirty minutes ahead. Your schedule was clear, so I told him that it was okay.” “That’s fine.” Kristen knelt in front of the stroller. “Want me to change EmEm?” “No,” Chase said with a smile, “she’ll be fine.” Kristen stood, looking just a little disappointed. Chase was somewhat greedy when it came to taking care of Emily. She pushed the stroller into her office, swung it around and tucked it into a corner where it was out of the way. She knelt down and released the safety straps from that held Emily safe and secure, then slid a finger into Emily’s diaper. The flush of red across Emily’s cheeks was probably not wholly due to embarrassment Chase thought, smiling, her large fingers gently caressing Emily between her legs. “Still dry,” she announced, a little disappointed, but careful not show it as she drew her fingers from the diaper. She took the pacifier from Emily’s mouth and then lifted her from the stroller, swinging her up into the air. “So high!” she said. Emily looked a little alarmed, which was one of her many adorable looks. Chase brought her lower, so they were eye to eye, then she dipped her a little and kissed her on the forehead. “What an adorable little girl I have.” A tiny smile flashed on Emily’s face for a moment. Crossing the room in a few steps, Chase bent over and put Emily in her playpen, among the expensive plush toys scattered within it. The playpen was at the side of the room, the polished oak bars fitting in well with the rest of the room’s furniture. There was a change table in Chase’s personal bathroom. She had not brought a lot of baby furniture into her office. It was still a place of business. Still holding Emily under her arms, she looked down at the little. She suspected that Emily had not fully accepted her new place in the world, which was fine with Chase. It just made it more enjoyable. “Do you know why mommy calls you EmEm?” Emily looked up at her, a guileless look of confusion on her face that made her look so innocent. After a few seconds, she said, “No Mama.” Smiling Chase leaned in and kissed her on her forehead again. “Because EmEm is my two adorable little rabbits.” She began to tickle Emily through her clothing until Emily was giggling happily (and perhaps even wetting her diapers a little, Chase could hope). She then gave Emily a gentle push and lowered her onto her thickly diapered bottom with a soft ‘thump’. “You be good, and mommy will play with you once Mr Julian leaves.” She picked up a cheap, plasticky looking pink laptop, covered in decals of a popular cartoon with ponies. She placed the laptop on Emily’s lap. “Yes Mama,” Emily said. Chase turned away from her and went to her own desk. She took a seat, then looked towards the playpen, where Emily was already bent over the laptop, looking like a little girl playing at being an adult. Of course, Chase and a few others knew that was not the case, but it did not hurt to let everyone else think that Emily was just as she appeared. Emily may not have needed to be taken care of, but Chase was of the opinion that she benefitted from it. Less time worrying about paying rent, doing chores, even keeping her pants dry, more time focused on her work. Feeling content, she turned to her own laptop. She had some notes to review before her meeting with Paul Julian. The first thing Emily did whenever logging onto a computer was to make sure that no one had put a keylogger on the computer, or was watching her with some sort of spyware. Not that it had happened, but as Chase had taught her, she could not afford to make mistakes. The second thing she did was check her accounts. Chase had not tried to take control of Emily’s property, whether as a way to show some respect or that she just had never thought about it. She also had, likely unknowingly, given Emily Black access to Morgan and Stone’s bank accounts. Accessing money from them would be illegal, but Emily was willing to consider it. She could put things in place quickly enough to arrange for her kidnapping… rescue, to arrange for her rescue whenever she wanted. Though the people performing the rescue would likely think it a kidnapping…. That Emily had not was because she knew that Chase would come looking for her, and she was pretty sure that were she to find her (and Emily was giving it about a thirty-five percent chance at the moment) that there would be punishments for running away. That meant if she were going to arrange her rescue she would have to do something about Chase. Violence had never crossed Emily’s mind, but she thought she might be able to pass some evidence of wrongdoing on to the right authorities that could get Chase in trouble. Chase’s recent and rapid growth had led her to cut a few corners, nothing serious or really illegal, but it would require being addressed in court. If Chase was busy in court than Emily could use that time to make sure Chase did not find her. But she really did not want to do that to Chase. At least not yet. Chase had been good to her word. Emily was spoiled rotten. The playpen, with its soft, fluffy silk floor, and polished oak bars, was like all the things Chase had bought for her; beautiful and well made. Her clothing was all custom made (naturally, though visits to Linda were always a little embarrassing), with none of the silly little mobility limiting tricks that some littles had to deal with. (Linda had actually turned her old apartment into a complete studio and workroom and was living in Emily’s old apartment.) And her diapers were the best. So absorbent that Emily was often not even aware when they were wet (which of course was probably the point). She had met enough other littles in similar situations to know that she was pretty lucky. She had seen them in ugly clothing, badly fitting, obviously cheap diapers. Strollers of ugly plastics and plain aluminium. Likely the baby furniture in their lives was equally shoddy. And she had seen what they ate. Having Chase feed her delicious food was infinitely preferable to the other options littles dealt with. She was likely eating better than many gourmands. Of course, the doctor at that stupid clinic was telling Chase a blander diet, more suited to a little, was what Emily should be eating. Fortunately, Chase did not take well to being told how to look after her daughter. And she did not have a toddler or infant-like mind, as happened to many littles. The Etiquette school that Chase had sent her to had made her a bed wetter, but she had left the school after four weeks still able to get to the potty… most of the time. She had been humbled at that school, learned that while she might be a genius when it came to computers and tech, she was as a slow child compared to those bigs who had mastered the art of making littles accept their status as small children. She had known what was going to happen, had been sure she could resist, passively of course, and make Chase realise that her plan was not going to work. And then after barely six days she was not able to stay dry when she was asleep, and the circular logic word traps (as she thought of them) started going around in her head. It was okay for little girls to wet their beds, and she wet her bed, so she was a little girl.... How stupid, but it had stuck in her mind, and if she thought too long about it she ended up getting distracted, usually be her work. When she had left the school, she had figured she had been at the level of a preschooler. She mostly got to the potty on time and had only had one messy accident, and that was only because another girl had been using the potty and Emily had waited a little too long to ask. She had seen other girls become nearly infants in only two weeks, so she suspected her teachers were using kid gloves, as it were, on her. Probably because Chase needed her to be Emily Black as well as EmEm. She suddenly stopped typing on her laptop. “Something wrong EmEm,” Chase asked from her desk. “Do you need the potty?” “No mama,” Emily said, “I just got why I was two rabbits.” Chase laughed. “So smart.” It was condescending, but Emily had heard far worst being directed at other littles from their mommies or daddies, so she was willing to take it as a compliment. She returned to her typing. There had been a few more messy accidents since leaving the school, and she was not making it to the potty when she had to pee as often as she had before. Chase made sure Emily enjoyed when her diapers were wet and the subsequent diaper changes. Emily was only human after all and pleasure was a strong motivator. No, she had not given up the idea she might win free of Chase but wanted to be sure when she made her attempt. Failure was not an option. And for the moment she got to live well and do what she loved. And got to be with the person she loved, who loved her back, though not in the way Emily would have preferred. She had even talked Chase out of the ballet lessons in favour of yoga (though ballet remained a threat if her work was never up to the standards Chase wanted), Chase had promised her about seventy-five percent happiness, maybe eighty. It was close to that. Emily felt a bit of pressure from her bladder, and her bottom, and thought maybe she should ask for the potty, but the work she had started was so interesting. Surely she would be fine if she waited. And she was in diapers after all. As she worked, Emily was not aware that she was smiling. It was the same smile that Chase had wanted to see more of. A similar smile was on Chase’s face at the moment as little and big worked together, equally content. Well, Chase was more content, but if you had asked she would have said that was only fair. She was bigger after all. Author’s Notes When I had first decided to try to write a story about a little in the Diaper Dimension who knew what things were like and was trying to avoid ending up in diapers my little character was a Sherlock Homles style deductive genius. Because she was a little, she had to team up with a sympathetic (also somewhat lazy and greedy and with zero interest in children) big who would act the great detective while the little was really solving the crimes. It was an all right idea, but I am the pants when it comes to writing mysteries. As I played around with the various ideas, I thought about how a little living in secret might be discovered. I thought it might be interesting if she found out that someone was up to something illegal and had to go to court to testify. There were some fun ideas there, like the judge ordering the bailiff to ‘pull down that girl’s pants and make sure she is diapers!’ and then, ‘Training panties may be diapers by the letter of the law, but not the spirit and not in my court. Bailiff, take her and put her in proper court diapers!’ She might even be found in contempt of court for not keeping her pacifier in her mouth. Fun, but it did not quite get where I wanted. When I initially envisioned this story, I figured Emily would end up in diapers. After all, it is the Diaper Dimension, and she is a protagonist little. It’s like a universal law after all. And as I was writing in another person’s world, I wanted to respect that world. And a character who breaks the settings universal laws begins to shift into sueish territories. IMO. But when people started indicating a hope that Emily would ‘win’ I had to give it some thought. However, Ausdpr made a good point, that it is not so much if she will end up in a nursery, but the quality of that nursery. Which became part of Chase’s argument near the end. Plus, come on, 4 foot tall, waifish, cute girl with a messy, self-inflicted bob… I wanted to see her in diapers. I kind of skipped the entire ‘baby training’ part, but as there are lots of excellent stories out there that I did not think that Chasing Emily would suffer from not having such scenes. As a side note in my mind Emily was sent to Miss Fairchild’s School for Maturity and Etiquette. It seems like an excellent place for Chase to get the results she wanted. I hope you enjoyed the story. I appreciate all the feedback I got and found many of the suggestions interesting. Thank you.
  8. A Family Affair!

    It’s A Family Affair! Fiction by Drownedinp Drownedinp, on 07 Jun 2015 - 1:30 PM, said: Arthur Mitchell had known Betsy Allen since grade school. It was almost destined for them to get together as they were not only neighbors but we're the two in school every year that seemed to have the most wetting accidents. Well why not they were the kids that their parents seemed to have to wash wet sheets for every day because they couldn't seem to keep theirs dry. Arthur's and Betsy's mother's were talking and found that both of their kids were nighttime wetters and either or both would almost daily come home from school wet or would be wet before supper. Both were happy to have a sympathetic ear to discuss the raising of bed wetters, and pants wetters. They had tried punishments, no liquids after 1800 hours or 6 pm, getting them up at different hours of the night to go potty, rewards, alarms, medications but nothing seemed to help. Betsy was even called Betsy Wetsy by the other kids and her siblings, that really didn't seem to bother her. Finally both mother's started to diaper their kids day and night which didn't cure them but helped them seem to fit in better at least the other kids quit calling Betsy; Betsy Wetsy other than her siblings who continued to call her that. About the time to start Junior High School both mothers took their child out of day time diapers, but both would either wet on the way home or later during play. But more often than not would be wet at school still so the diapers and plastic pants went back on until high school at least, both mother's thought that they would try it again then. Besides they were still wet at nights and between them both had not had more than a handful of dry nights since they were kids Since their mothers were so close Arthur would go over to Betsy's house with his mother or Betsy would go to Arthur's house with hers. They were left alone most times and the two mother's were oblivious to the budding romance between the two teenagers. Each knew the others secret of what they wore to bed and what they were wearing in the day because when the mothers talked it was as if the kids weren't there so when the discussions for day wetting and bed wetting each child knew the other was in the same leaky boat so to speak. Drownedinp, on 07 Jun 2015 - 1:56 PM, said: This continued through Junior High School and when mom's took them out of diapers in Senior High School, the day wetting had improved but there were still accidents during school. But it was decided to let them stay out of day time diapers, nighttime was a other issue entirely. Neither showed any progress what so ever in that department. In fact, the only change had been the size of the diapers and plastic pants used meaning bigger sizes. Both Arthur and Betsy attended a local College because of their bed wetting decided campus life was not for them. During this time though they were dating and falling deeper and deeper in love with each other. They knew that each other still were bed wetters. Arthur had never called her Betsy Wetsy, telling her it would have made him a hypocrite of he had. Since they were both over 18 they planned on marring each other after college. Arthur got his degree in computer engineering while Betsy graduated with her degree in nursing. Arthur was about 5 foot 10 and was a redhead weighed about 135 he looked skinny but was pretty tough as his brothers used to tell him, I'd rather be dead than to wet my bed and be red in the head. After a few years his brothers never picked on him after he'd inflicted bloody noses, fat lips and a few black eyes. Wetting his bed had made him tougher he was sure of it. Betsy was a brunette and people would say she was cute not beautiful but she had an innocence about her that seemed to make her more beautiful. When they told their parents that they planned on getting married their parents thought it was a joke. Both were still wetting their diapers at night and looked like they would forever. They brought up the point &that since they were still wetting at night how much luck do you think we would have if we were to date other non bed wetters? We would probably never marry and continue to live at home until we're your age! Both sets of parents had never thought of it like that, but the more the kids talked it made sense. Besides the parents could see the love that they had for each other, and decided that the at least deserved a chance. They were married on Valentine’s day the following year. Drownedinp, on 07 Jun 2015 - 2:38 PM, said: About Christmas time Betsy informed Arthur that she was expecting their first child she was about 2 months along. Arthur couldn't have been happier as a matter of fact he was over the moon. When he remembered a statistic that if both parents were bed wetter there was a 70% chance that their kids would be, he wondered what the odds were if both parents were active bed wetters. He brought this fact up to Betsy who said if they do are we going to love them less? Arthur said hell no! Betsy said &we will understand more of what their going through right? Arthur could only agree. Betsy said and If they don't have a problem we will teach them to not make fun of the ones who do, including us! about 7 months later Betsy gave birth to a hefty 9 pound baby boy in mid July that they decided to call Christian after Arthur's grandfather, who went by Chris his whole life. Chris was always big from birth until, well just for ever! Of course he was a bed wetter, but that never stopped him he grew up played football and was a dang good linebacker. Went to college was drafted by the Raiders in the 2nd round had to wear diapers at night because he still wet his bed. No one ever made fun of him because he was so damn big. Some kid on an opposing team while playing football in high school said I want you bed wetter! Big mistake, too bad because Chris about took the kids head off with a forearm to the side of his helmet. No one ever called him that again. About 4 months after Chris was born Betsy informed Arthur that she was pregnant again and one more time Arthur couldn't have been happier and was still over the moon. She was was again about 2 months along and at the last of May gave birth to not one but two, a girl and a boy. They decided to name the girl Darla after Betsy s grandmother. The boy was a bit harder until Betsy noticed a pattern emerging we have an Arthur, a Betsy, Christopher, Darla, so this has to start with E. They named him Ephraim. They got lucky Ephraim wasn't a bed wetter but Darla was not so lucky now they had 4 bed wetters and 1 that didn't. Drownedinp, on 07 Jun 2015 - 6:27 PM, said: Betsy taught Ephraim that since he was the only child that didn't have problems with bed wetting that he shouldn't make fun of those that do. One night she heard Ephraim making fun of his twin sister Darla calling her ‘Pissy Darla’. Betsy took Ephraim and put a diaper on him and told him isn't coming off until morning, get used to it. Ephraim thought that it was a Joke so he wet it so mom would Take it off. “Look at me I'm Pissy Ephraim,” and asked mom to take it off. Mom said &No, I told you it isn't coming off until tomorrow morning!” Ephraim said “But mom I've already wet it to be Pissy Ephraim!” “That's too bad you can sleep in it and find out what it feels like to be real bed wetter like the rest of your family then.” Ephraim figured out that he had gone too far. Trying to sleep was almost impossible; the heat and sweat tended to make him more uncomfortable, so he wet it again and it felt somewhat better, not good. he woke up and went into the bathroom and turned on the light, the light hurt his eyes because he was used to the dark, ouch he said as his eyes started to adjust to the light. He lifted up the toilet lid and began to pee looking around he saw the hamper, and the sink and tub, the shelving over the toilet. Dang this pee felt good, then he remembered that he had a diaper on, wait...... he woke up and the diaper was soaked and had leaked and there was a wet spot in the middle of his bed. That was just a dream, but it seemed so real the light hurt my eyes even. Then he really got worried I have to sleep in my bed and it's wet. Do Mommy and Daddy, And Chris and Darla go through this every night? It's harder to be a bed wetter than I thought, I'll never tease them again. After Darla and Ephraim were born Betsy did not get pregnant again for 2 years then she gave birth to triplets this time 2 girls 1 boy the oldest girl fell in line was named Frances, the boy was Gary, and the girl was named Hermione after the girl in Harry Potter. Frances was the only one not to follow in her parents footsteps and wet her bed the other 2 again weren't so lucky. Drownedinp, on 07 Jun 2015 - 7:45 PM, said: With about 2/3 the family are bed wetters the Mitchell's got back to being a family. When Christian was a rookie for the Raiders he was drafted in the second round because the Raiders picked up a Quarterback from LSU in the first round. For some reason he had it in for Chris. When he found out that Chris was a bed wetter he got plain mean, hung Chris's diapers out the window on media day, for everyone to see. The QB thought that he was hot stuff, because he was a first rounder. He never missed a trick trying to humiliate Chris even as going as far as the old hand in the water, piss trick. Didn't take much for him to pee his diapers as he used his cell phone to tape it! What he didn't know was Chris may take a little ribbing about his bed wetting, but the QB was way out of line. The next day at scrimmage Chris wouldn't let him get a pass off sacked him three times, knocked down 4 passes and stuffed up the line on a QB sneak he couldn't get anywhere. On ESPN they started talking about what a bust the QB was for the Raiders, but how impressive their new inside linebacker, Chris Mitchell was the talk is they should of taken him first and let the QB fall to the third or fourth round and saved themselves a lot of money. Back to you Dan! Looks lIke I got the start of it. Let's me revisit the Mitchells as retell their story!
  9. Hey guys. This is my first attempt at a story. Not sure how exactly it's gonna turn out. But I figured there was only one way to learn how to write stories & that's by writing. Any constructive feedback you can give will be welcome & appreciated. So then, without further ado… Angel Hunter Chapter I 5:37am Ugh! Why am I awake at Five-thirty in the Goddamned morning on my day off? Normally I sleep like a rock on Saturday. Was it something I ate? Well, best not to dwell on it I guess. Maybe I'll make up for it by staying in bed an extra hour or so. “Arise, mortal.” Now if I didn't know any better, I'd think I just heard someone say “Arise, mortal” right next to me. But that's just plain ridiculous! I must still be dreaming. Yeah, that would explain why I'm awake so- “GET UP!” I shot up in my bed and looked towards the source of the command. What I saw defied all logical explanation. Standing there in my doorway was the form of a woman. Her body was pitch-black from head to toe. But what caused my blood to run cold with terror was her glowing red eyes staring me down. There's a demon in my bedroom. “Fear not. I do not wish you harm.” Well that takes a load off of my mind. But it does beg the question: why is there a demon in my bedroom? “I am here because I require your assistance.” So she can read minds too? “Yes I can.” “Stop reading my mind!” I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth. I just yelled at a demon in my bedroom! I was fully expecting her--I mean It--to pounce on me and tear me to pieces for lashing out. But it just stood there staring at me. Her head cocked slightly as if she found my outburst intriguing rather than infuriating. We just stared at each other for another long, terror-filled moment before she spoke again. “Well? If you wish to speak your mind then do so. I do not have all night!” Huh? Oh! Right. I told her to stop reading my mind so she's waiting for me to speak. Are demons normally this accommodating? “uh, what are you doing here?” I asked with more than a little trepidation. “I need you to look after my host.” Well, that answered one question. And raised about a dozen more. “Your host?” She sauntered into the room and only then did I realize how much she reminded me of the Enchantress from that Suicide Squad movie. Not sure if that makes her more or less terrifying. “This body belongs to a woman named Julia. When I release her she will be too weak to move or speak. I could just leave her in an alley somewhere, but I think you would agree that this is a much better solution. Unless, of course, you wish to see harm come to an innocent woman?” “what? No! Of course not! It's just,” it's just that this situation is completely insane! It's just that I'm not in the habit of helping demons! Come on, say something! “Why me?” She stepped up in front of me. I tried not to react but my body had other plans. I instinctively leaned back & shut my eyes tight as she approached. “all in good time, Luc.” she placed her hand under my chin and gently turned my head so I would be forced to look into her eyes if I opened mine. Suddenly her hand clamped around my throat. My eyes went wide with shock & I was forced to look into her fiery gaze. “But know this, Luc,” she said sternly, “If you should find yourself tempted to take advantage of her in her helpless state, I shall be forced to manifest myself again.” She leaned in close. Her face inches from mine. “And you will know the fullness of my wrath!” With that she released her grip on my throat. I gasped for breath as she nonchalantly sauntered back into the center of the room and laid herself down on the carpet. Before my very eyes she began to transform. The first thing I noticed were patches of pink flesh as the blackness of the demons skin (or scales. It was too dark to really tell) started fading away. The second thing I noticed was her jet-black hair returning to its natural blond. In mere seconds the transformation was complete. And where there had once been a terrifying demon now lay a beautiful, normal-looking girl. Eyes closed. Breathing steady as if she were in deep slumber. That's when I noticed a third thing: She was completely naked. I looked away as a reflex. The demon’s final warning now making a lot more sense. Had she been naked the whole time? Given the circumstances I suppose it's possible I could've missed that little detail. My thoughts were interrupted when the girl's eyes suddenly opened and she started gasping and wheezing as if she'd just nearly drowned. I jumped out of bed and rushed to her side. Kneeling down beside her, I started saying anything I could think of to try to calm her down. “It's okay Julia. I'm here. Nobody's going to hurt you. The demon is gone. She won't be coming back. Just breath normally. You're safe here.” Eventually her gasping devolved into sobbing. Tears began flowing down the sides of her face like rivers of pain and sorrow. Well that's hardly an improvement! I knelt there for what must have been several minutes stroking her hair & telling her everything was going to be all right. When she finally started to calm down I decided that it would be best for both of us if she were clothed. So I went over to my dresser & got out a pair of gym shorts & a T-shirt. It'll have to do. I started with the shirt. Have you ever tried to put a shirt on a completely limp body? I do not recommend it. Through some miracle I was finally able to get it on her. Well that's half her modesty preserved. I moved to her lower body and that's when I discovered that the carpet underneath her thighs was soaking wet. How did I discover that in a dark room you ask? Simple: I accidentally stuck my damn hand in it of course! At first I thought I must be mistaken. Surely she wouldn't… All it took was a quick sniff of my hand to confirm my suspicions. She peed all over my floor! I gave her a quizzical look. Which only elicited more sobbing. Not good. I wasn't angry at her or anything. Just a little confused. The demon said she wouldn't be able to move or speak. It didn't say anything about this! Now she's crying again. “shh it's okay. I'm not mad. You've had a rough night. These things happen.” damn. If this is what demon possession does to you I might have to start going to church again! Once I got her mostly calmed down again I went to the bathroom & got a wet rag. The carpet would have to wait. Right now I need to get Julia cleaned and dressed. I moved her away from the wet spot and proceeded to wipe down her legs and crotch. I had imagined many scenarios involving a naked woman in my room. But I had never imagined anything like this! Once I was pretty sure she was clean I grabbed the pair of gym shorts and slid them up over her legs. As I suspected putting pants on her turned out to be much easier than the shirt. Now that she's fully clothed I… I… hmm… What do I do now exactly? The demon had instructed me to “look after” Julia. I guess really the only thing I can do now is try to make her as comfortable as possible. “All right, Julia,” I said to her, “I'm going to put you to bed. I'm sure you could use some sleep after what you've been through.” I was trying to gage her reaction. But she didn't even act like she heard me. Her eyes were vacant; devoid of all feeling. Had I not known better I would've guessed she were stoned out of her mind. Yeah, sleep sounds like the best thing for her right now. I went over to my bed. Briefly wondering if the couch would be a safer option. She did just piss herself after all. No, I'm sure it was a one time thing. Probably happened the moment she woke up. However, just to be on the safe side I went into the bathroom & laid a towel under where her butt would be. An ounce of prevention… I picked her up--no small feat mind you--and laid her on the bed. “alright Julia. I need you to try to get some sleep okay? If you need anything just,” just what, moron? “just, I dunno, let out a cry or something. I'll try to remain within earshot. But even if you can't manage that I'll make sure to check on you fairly often, okay? Now just close those little eyes…” she closed her eyes and after another minute or so her breathing started to settle. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Good girl.” I said before covering her up and going back out to the bathroom to try and find something to clean the carpet. What the literal hell have I gotten myself into?
  10. Teen to baby

    characters for the roleplay Flynn- a 15 year old boy, who dosn't care about anything anymore, is a rebellious Teen and will not listen to his parents for the life of him Jack- Flynns little brother he's 4, he's afraid of everything since his brother keeps scaring him, he's also a huge crybaby and always cries when ever his brother makes fun of him Alfred- the two boys Father, he's a smart dorky dad, who's just a understanding guy Veronica- the boys mother, she's a tiny bit stricter the Alfred, she's athletic and is usely the one giving out the punishments
  11. When I think of disposable diapers for the AB/DL community, only a handful of companies come to mind. Bambino, Rearz, ABU, Carousel Dotty did I miss anyone? There are also medical grade diapers that are within most of our wardrobes; Abri-Form, Attends, Depends, Molicare, Tena, Dry-24/7 to name a few. Out of all of these options what is missing from these options and what do you absolutely love that they provide? Think about the question for a moment before answering, and try to consider what draws you to a particular brand or style. Below are a few features that I have experienced Bulkness of padding Wetness indicators number of tapes (1, 2, or 3) Single tape design or bi-tape design where you only get to lay them down once cloth backing vs plastic backing colored, or printed Tape Landing zone Crinkle Factor (How loud the diaper is when you walk) Leg gathers and elastic waist bands (think pampers design, or Bambinos vs Tena Active Fit) Price! Quantity per pack, per case, per sample How much is too much for a disposable product? Now I have spent a fair number of coin on diapers, but when a diaper is reaching close to $2 dollars per unit I start to compromise on features. Also friends, if you know anyone I can reach out to to get some quotes on developing a adult diaper I'd appreciate the insight.
  12. Confession I suppose this is a sort of confession. I suppose it’s something I feel a little bit guilty about… although I’m not sure why. It’s something I like to do, because it makes me feel good and… I suppose… makes me feel sexy… even though, to most people, that’s the last thing it would do. OK. OK. I’m just going to say it out loud and then … well… it’s out there and you can mock or call me names as much as you like. Hell, over the years and in my confusion I’ve called myself all kinds of things but… it doesn’t stop me doing it. Yes, alright… I’ll stop putting it off and just tell you. But don’t judge me. Well, I suppose you will but… I feel that… well… this is the place I should be able to talk about this… without too much… too many erm… well, problems. I mean, we all have our little secrets don’t we? I’m sure some are worse than mine. I bet some are really weird… yer... weird… but I promise I wont judge you. So, be kind. I really need to get this off my chest even though I don’t know why and after all… isn’t the motto of this group… this forum… “If it feels good, do it”? A bit like the sportswear brand Nike “Just do it”. OK. OK. Sorry, sorry… OK... I’m just waffling now. Here goes. I like to wear… erm… I find it comforting to wear… under my jeans, or suit, or in bed… a pair of… don’t be shocked… erm… a diaper and a pair of plastic pants. *** Perhaps some of you want to know where my love of these items comes from. I’m sure everyone has their own starting point for this type of thing. The moment when they realised… ‘POW’… that precise moment in time when it all started. I remember reading about an older man who could tell you the moment, and the occasion, that he became obsessed with men. As a kid he was watching a Tarzan programme on TV and he realised he was jealous of the boy Tarzan was looking after. Tarzan; all muscles and all but naked body in a loincloth had a young boy with him dressed pretty much the same… he desperately wanted to be that boy. Since that TV programme he’d become obsessed about finding his own Tarzan character; big, strong, in charge but, as he said, it gets more and more difficult as you get older. He’s now middle-aged and, playing a little defenceless little boy in need of protection, is getting more and more difficult. Not that that is how I see myself. No. I don’t see myself as a little lad. Hell NO, what are you thinking? Although I can tell you when this obsession started and it was down to a little boy… my younger brother. *** As kids we shared the same bed. Well, when he was old enough to sleep away from my parents he ended up sharing my bed. He was 3 at the time and I was 7. As a grown-up 7 year-old I didn’t really want to be sharing my bed with anyone, least of all my little brother who I wasn’t convinced was toilet trained. In fact he was very slow in getting to use the potty and mum kept him in training pants during the day, and at night she’d slip a pair of plastic pants over them for added protection. One night, when he was 4 years old, mum had said that he didn’t need the training pants anymore as he’d had dry nights for several months. Like me he slept in just his pajamas and yes, that night, he wet the bed. Now, I was sleeping next to him and to be suddenly awakened by a wet patch took me by surprise and disgust and I literally kicked the little bugger out of the bed. He landed on the floor with a crash and banged his head on the bedside table, which caused a cut and he started crying. I panicked as mum and dad came to my room to see what the commotion was all about. Mum picked up my little brother and stared daggers at me for hurting her little baby, while dad grabbed my arm and pulled me from the damp bed. I tried to explain that he’d wet the bed and I hadn’t meant to hurt him but my dad did something he’d never done before. He put me over his knee and gave me a spanking. Never in all my 8 years had dad said so much as a harsh word to me let alone raised his hand, but over his knee he gave me such a hard hand spanking that my little cotton pajamas offered no protection and my bottom felt every fierce smack. By the end I was weeping more than my little brother, my bottom hurt and stung but my father told me to stand in the corner of the room with my hands on my head… I couldn’t even rub the pain away. As I stood there crying, and in shock, dad flipped the mattress and changed the bedding. He seemed to take ages and all I could do was sob in the corner with a stinging red bum and regretting ever having a pissy little brother. When he’d finished he called me over to him. He was sat on the bed and I feared I was in for another spanking but I wasn’t. He pulled me into his warm manly chest and gave me a cuddle. He kissed my head and held me in a comforting way until my sobbing had quietened down then he spoke to me in his usual, soft and mild tones about… responsibility. He told me about my responsibility to my brother… that when he or my mum were not around, I was in charge and I should be looking out for him; making sure he didn’t hurt himself or get into any trouble. He explained how he and my mum were relying on me to be a good brother, a thoughtful brother, a protecting brother… and all in all… I was made to feel I had let them down, but more importantly, I’d let myself down by this one act of nastiness. Dad hugged me and put me back into bed with a kiss and I slept on my front as my bum still smarted from the spanking. My little brother spent the night with mum and dad and, after thinking about my situation and what dad had said, I eventually managed to get some sleep. The following day David, my little brother, had quite a bruise on his forehead together with a small scratch. I really did feel guilty so apologised to him before I went off to school though didn’t know what to expect when I got home. Sleeping arrangements were the same, I went to bed and David was there only this time he was back in his plastic pants. I cuddled him that night, I wanted him to know that I was his older brother who would protect him and not harm him, and he scooted up to lie against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. That was the moment… the ‘POW’ moment I was telling you about. The moment when I fell for a sensation and my life changed quite a bit. *** My pajamas were very thin and so were David’s and I could feel the thickness of the diaper and plastic pants through the material. As he snuggled up closer the back of his pajamas came down and mine had also ridden up a bit so, some of my hip came into contact with his plastic pants. I liked the feeling. As he slept I pulled down his pajama bottoms and had him sleep tightly up against me and I just loved his hot little body, his thickly padded butt and his shiny plastic pants rubbing up against my naked skin. I’m sure he had no idea what was going on, and in all truth, neither did I, but I do know that we innocently slept that way for many months. I often wondered if he ever wondered why he always woke up with his pajama bottoms around his ankles but nothing was ever said. We tried on several occasions to let David sleep without the protection and he’d go a couple of days dry before he’d have another accident and mum would put him back into the protective padding. This frustrated little David a lot and visits to the doctor and several help-features later, we still couldn’t stop him from his involuntary pissing. He seemed to stay dry when he was in all his protection but as soon as we let him out of it, he peed the bed. He was getting one angry little chap. He hated being like he was and, because he was still in his diaper or training pants, I think he was getting a ribbing from his friends at pre-school. Even at that age kids can be so cruel but he’d refused to wear those trainer or plastic pants to bed and started to wet even more regularly. No one at his school wore them, he argued in his boyish petulance, so why should he? He was determined that he wasn’t going to wear those ‘baby’ pants any more. We sympathised but every morning we’d both wake up to a soaked bed. The rubber sheet we both now slept on helped a bit but he still flowed almost every night. Mum would be very forceful with him and dress him for bed, making sure his night time diaper and plastic pants were in place but as soon as she left the bedroom he’d angrily remove them and chuck them in the corner. When I came to bed a little later I’d see them and, thinking about what dad had said about being responsible and David’s protector, would pick them up and try to put them back on his sleeping little body. However, one night, instead of re-dressing David, I struggled to get into them myself. They were very tight and clung to me like another skin. It was incredible… I loved the feel. I loved the way the bulkiness made me... I suppose… excited… as I’d gently stroke the soft malleable plastic material against my body. I didn’t realise it was sexual - all I knew was that I liked the feeling it gave me. This was even better than rubbing up against my little brother and I had no idea why it had taken me so long to undertake this most obvious of steps. *** The following morning we woke to another wet bed, I had forgotten the fact that I was wearing David’s diaper and plastic pants and so when mum came in, she saw me in them. At first she looked a bit surprised and then just nodded to me. At breakfast I was worried about what mum would say to dad but I was amazed. Mum said that I had hit upon a fantastic idea. She had read that a sibling, which I gathered was me, might set a better example than anyone else if I wore the same as my brother. At the time I didn’t quite get what she meant but I was just so happy that she had not said anything embarrassing to dad and that I was being held up for some praise. That night, when mum took David up to bed, she asked me to go with her. I was watching TV but with a smile and an encouraging nod from dad, I made my way upstairs. David was once again riling against putting on his night time padded protection but mum asked him - what if I wore the same as him, would he then wear them? She told him that he was not a little boy, and that we all knew it wasn’t his fault. I was shocked… somewhere in all this I suddenly realised what I was being asked to do. Even as an 8 year-old I thought, what I did in the privacy of my own bed and liked, was not necessarily what I wanted to be taken as the natural course of things. After all, I was a lot older than David; I was grown up for heaven’s sake. I hadn’t worn a diaper since I was 2. I was just about to voice these concerns when she told David that it was all my idea and that both she and dad were proud that I loved my little brother so much I was prepared to do this for him. She said that I was the best brother in the world and David should know just how much his older brother was trying to help him with his slight problem. She produced a new, slightly larger diaper like David’s and a pair of plastic pants and asked me to put them on. So, caught off guard by this turn of events and knowing I had no way out of it, I stripped off in front of mum and David and let her fasten me into them and the new, slightly larger and more rubbery pair of plastic pants, before pulling my pajamas over it all. I felt huge… if well protected. Seeing me like this David didn’t even try and argue, he let my mum dress him the same and with no more fuss kissed him a more relaxed goodnight. I was on my way back downstairs to watch TV and … well I don’t know what… possibly to try and talk myself out of the situation… when David called me back and asked me to come to bed with him there and then. I was about to argue but mum said what a good idea it was and I knew I was beaten. Even dad came into the room and kissed us both goodnight, he gave me a huge hug and said “Thanks” and at that moment I knew things would never be the same. I went through this nightly ritual for as long as I shared a bed with David, a further two years. Some times he’d go forever without getting wet as long as he had his protection on. When we tried to take him out of them he inevitably wet the bed. However, I had grown used to my nocturnal mode of dress and told mum I didn’t mind sleeping that way if it helped. I was happy and I suppose enjoying my first ‘fetish’, although at the time I had no idea that such a word existed but I suppose, even at that age, I knew it was nothing to shout about as I hadn’t told anyone how much I liked wearing all that stuff. *** Eventually, dad got a new job and we moved. In the new house we had a room each and in many ways I was sad to lose the comfort of my younger brother sleeping next to me, though at the time I think I was really made up about having so much space to myself. The strange thing was… David stopped wetting himself. Now he had his own room he just grew in confidence and his wetting stopped. Not gradually, but overnight… he pulled off his protection on that first night in his new single bed and never put them back on. Things changed for me as well. I had more privacy but mum, had stopped buying plastic pants and stuff to fit me, because she was able to stop buying those things altogether. However, I kept my diapers and plastic pants and occasionally would just pull on those very tight fitting stretched slippery pants and wear them in bed. I’m not clever or academic so I didn’t go to college but found a job locally just a week after my 18th birthday. On my first pay day I went out to the drugstore and quite openly bought a couple of new pairs of plastic pants and adult diapers and have been doing so, on and off, ever since. I’m 20 now and still live at home with mum, dad and my brother and it’s great, I have as much freedom as I need. I’m not sure if mum knows what I do. I don’t leave ‘evidence’ around the house but I did once notice that the draw I kept them in had been opened. I assumed it was mum putting away my ironed clothes but I never asked and she never said if this was the case. So, everything is fine. I wear my diapers and plastic pants for comfort, for memories and, well, because I like to. My job doesn’t pay a fortune so I’m not able to wear them 24/7 but at night, when I’m feeling that way out, there is simply nothing better than getting well-padded; slip on my diaper, some soft plastic pants and drift off to an amazingly comfortable sleep. I think I must have been in denial in the beginning because in truth, I do feel like a little boy in need of protection when I wear them. I have a footed onesie (a Christmas present from my parents would you believe), a bottle and a pacifier (which I bought myself) for when I feel the need and I just love to regress, even for a little while, back to when I shared the bed with my little brother. I dream of those times regularly and I always wake up happy and relaxed, even if I happen to have wet myself in the night, which, unintentionally, I occasionally do. I adore my thick protection. I enjoy the sensation of my plastic pants. I enjoy my bed being dry even when I’m not. Perhaps, in the future, I’ll get a daddy who wants to join me on these adventures, maybe even coming up with a few ideas of his own. Until then, I love my occasional ‘little’ life. **** tbc
  13. panties over plastic

    I really enjoy picking a nice large pair of sheer panties to cover my plastic pants and diaper. The night time touch factor is extra special.
  14. Unconventional Solutions - 17

    The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 1. *The sound of Jawas fills the cab of my car making me smile.*Allen told me they were haggling over scrap on Tatooine, but I had no clue. Don’t get me wrong, I love those movies, but nothing like my husband does. Clearly, he has been messing with my phone again. “Ok Google, Read New Text.” I tell the dead air in my car while rolling my eyes at my nerdy husband’s antics. “You have one new text from Allen at five thirty-two PM. Do you want to hear it?” “Yes.” I tell my phone.The female computerized voice reads back my husband’s text. It is an odd juxtaposition listening to his words and imagining his face to the female’s jilting voice. Google reads, “Shit hone. That ducks. You don’t have a lot of options there.”Autocorrect hates him. It always makes me giggle while I try to interpret what he’s going on about. I get tired of dictating to my phone and pick it up directly. Normally, I’d wait and talk slowly through the menu’s to send a reply, but it wasn’t dangerous just sitting here. I’m not about to text and drive. That shit is dangerous!I text him back.[Me:] Radio says there’s a tractor trailer rig overturned. I’m locked in. I can’t stop bouncing my legs. I gotta pee so freaking bad! At least Molly’s sleeping through it. Thank god for pool day.[Allen:] ITH (our own code – In The House)[Me:] You never beat me home! (Yeah, I’m whining at this point.)[Me:] I don’t know what to do! If I pee my pants, the leather will be fine but the carpet…[Allen:] You can’t do anything about it babe. Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll have the car cleaned.[Me:] You’d use Bill though! We KNOW them![Allen:] You have a leaky 3.5 year old in the car. They won’t know who it was. [Me:] Still, I’d know…[Allen:] Getting in the shower. Text me when you finally break free. [Me:] KI sit there looking around at an utter loss. Molly’s daycare is only fifteen minutes away from the house on the interstate. I had come up on the wreck just after I picked up my daughter. I was still a mile away if the radio report was correct. I was locked in and at a full stop before I knew what had happened. No matter which direction I look, all I can see are cars. Worse, I’m on an inside lane and can’t even off-road through the median! I’m stuck tight, and my bladder isn’t happy about it. In fact, it feels like it’s going to be downright rebellious.The tide is changing and I began to lose the fight with lactic acid and muscle fatigue. I shouldn’t have left the house without peeing first, but I thought I’d be home in thirty minutes! Turns out that was a bad decision, one that was biting me in the ass. The muscles between my legs twinge. I’m long past the pain stages. In fact, everything that I’ve been clinching is numb. I smack at my knees trying to get some feeling back into my legs and to distract myself from the numbness and the impending disaster. I start singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs. That distraction doesn’t work either. Molls, just keep sleeping baby. Mommy can’t handle peeing herself in front of you. I thought dreading the implications that seeing me wet myself would have on my daughter. Allen said I could blame the mess on my little Molls, but that doesn’t feel right either. I need a solution. Spontaneously, a really crazy thought burns brightly in my head. I snap a picture of my hand coming out of my daughters diaper bag and send it to my husband before breaking out into a feverish flurry of activity. I turn up the radio to keep all my wiggling from waking up Molly. I can’t believe I’m about to do this… I can’t believe I’m doing this… I can’t believe I did that…-----I get home at fifteen after six, which is far later than I normally pull up. I’m super not thrilled about it either! Traffic was a bitch even after I FINALLY got past the wreck. I’m not sure how my half day of working from home turned into eight full hours of work, or how easing back into fulltime turned into such a stressful day. The lousy drive home from picking up Molly was the icing on my crap cake. I am very anxious to get my daughter in the house and try to find a way to process this situation. I need a fix of my man! I need to cuddle up to him and watch some TV, and maybe drink a glass of wine. I stand up stretching my back and lean against my car. I take a breath then reach in and grab all our stuff. Lastly, I shoulder our diaper bag popping open Molly’s door. I wake her up with sweet words. Molly takes my hand grabbing my fingers tightly and we make our way to the house. I have an unbalanced load for sure, and it's leaning heavily to my diaper bag side. Waddling around didn’t make it anything graceful let me tell you!Thank God she's walking now. I'd be done in if I had to carry her too. I wouldn’t have had the strength. My little Doodlebug is too big for me to haul her around on my hip anymore. I think sadly.She toddles beside me into the house. She doesn’t quite wake up either. She sways on her feet still groggy shambling like a zombie. I smile entering my house. It is simply thrilling to be home, it smells like safety and relaxation. Today, it seems like a major accomplishment just to get here. It had seemed impossible only thirty minutes ago. My little angel and I had been stuck for more than an hour behind that overturned tractor trailer less than ten miles from our house! I drop everything on the couch leaving Molly just inside our front door. She sways on her feet trying to wake up, but with little success. My attitude went from relief to anger in a heartbeat wanting to get out of my work clothes and Allen nowhere to be found.“Allen.” I bellow stress lining my voice. Seriously, he should be here! He knew I'd be coming in in a hurry.“Hey, Rob. Glad my girls…” He inhaled sharply seeing my face. “I take it you’re both wet?”, he chuckles.The balls on this man!“Funny aren't ya!” I growl. “Just take her will you. I'd like to get cleaned up.” I shoot him my best grouchy face, and let me tell you it can melt the paint off the walls! “Are you still wearing it? I mean did it fit?” My devoted husband stutters with an odd air about him. It’s almost seems like he is excited and it’s overriding his sense of self-preservation. I blushed instantly losing my bluster, “Ya to both. I mean I need to go freshen up, and I'm sure Molly would like a fresh diaper.”“Show me.” He insists not moving an inch after taking Molly’s sleepy little hand.“What! No. It’s bad enough I'm wearing it and its freaking wet! I'm not going to be showing this thing off. I’m supposed to be sexy to you, not some kind of screw-up.” I gasp.“I'm going to be honest here. Those do nothing for me on Molly, but I've been messed up thinking about it since you texted me that picture of her diaper. I wasn’t sure if you’d use it. I can't believe it fit.” Allen confesses.“I couldn't either. I mean it's a stretch, but our Doodlebug isn't very little. In fact, I probably shouldn’t really carry her around anymore. She doesn’t need to see this.” I ramble not so stealthily to divert his attention. I say anything trying to distract him with my moment of nostalgia from earlier.I’m super embarrassed about my situation, but at only twenty-four, I am still very interested in keeping my husband turned on. Getting him excited gets me that way too. Most of the time it would be a win-win situation, but this isn’t one of those times.But, the look on Allen’s face gives me pause. My excuse to be out of this thing was that it wouldn’t be attractive, but is it. Is he turned on?I think about it and decide I am pretty comfortable in one of Molly’s diapers, even though it was a little soggy and was pulling tightly at my hips. He clearly wants to see it. If it turns him on... Wearing it doesn’t cost me anything but some embarrassment.“Show me, babe.” Allen interrupts my thoughts prompting me a second time.“Pick her up first.” I instruct and he complies.Almost on auto-pilot, I kick off my heels and slide out of my slacks. I drop my boy-short style panties which leaves me in my blouse and Molly’s size five Luvs diaper. It’s a startling contrast, half a business outfit and half a toddler's. I try to pull together some sexy thoughts so I can model the diaper for him. I end up laughing instead. Allen laughs too. His laughing caught our little Doodlebug’s attention causing her to wake up from her shoulder nap. She looks around for a moment to see what all the laughter is about. “Mommy, it's ok. That's what diapers are for. You'll make it next time.” She tells me full of love and support. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 2. Molly parrots the phrase she'd heard so many times in the last couple years. My poor little Doodlebug continues to have some setbacks with her potty training. She’s heard that line a lot. My tall three year old daughter takes after her daddy. We are betting Molly will end up over six feet tall. I’m worried I'll wake up any day now and she’ll be taller than me. I’ll go to get her out of bed and she’ll stand up in some cute little girl night gown and I’ll have to look up to look her in the eyes. The doctors tell us that she’ll grow out of the bladder problems eventually. They said her bladder isn’t keeping up with the rest of this growth spurt. Things will even out in a year or so. “Thanks Doodlebug. I can't believe how comfortable this thing is Allen.” I say feeling the outside of the soggy diaper. “Do I need to give you two a minute.” He teases me. He might, I thought. Damn, I can’t believe I thought that. This is super comfy though. A bit tight, but all warm and soft feeling inside and out. Watching me play around with the diaper clearly gets my husband wound up. Suddenly, I find myself excited too. The diaper is still comfortable to me, but I felt... naughty!?! Standing there in a wet diaper, in my living room, in front of my horney husband, and lovely little daughter. I send Allen off to change Molly while I head to change myself and get cleaned up. I slowly make my way to our master bathroom and start the shower. Shutting the bedroom door, I look the diaper over checking the fit for the first time. The length is ok. The diaper comes up over my ass and covers my lady bits, but the sides are struggling to stay latched without my panties holding them together. Still, it fit! I can’t believe it. I rub the wet front panel and clinically study the garment. I've changed countless diapers on my Doodlebug, but this one is different. I focus in on the diaper so completely that my mind stills. That almost never happens! I bet the size up would fit pretty good. Wonder what my options are? Maybe there’s adult or teen diapers out there I could get. It seemed to hold up most of that wetting. I’ll need to start shaving again. Allen will love that. I think I’ll like that feeling too. Smooth skin next to delicate cotton. I shiver and it dawns on me that I haven’t finished peeing. I sit down on the toilet with the diaper still on. I decide to let it have its shot at holding a full wetting. I release into the diaper and smile at the hissing sounds. Well, that’s not subtle at all. I sit there on the toilet grinning like a fool. I have a short internal debate before letting it all go and just going for it. I wet the diaper with the rest of that initial payload that I had been holding back since the wreck. Surprisingly, it holds ok till the very last when I heard the tinkle of my water hitting the toilet water. I sit for a bit to let the diaper catch up with my flood. Then, I stand feeling a little bit of my urine still sloshing around inside waiting to be absorbed. I know from years of changing Molly that there is a big difference in a small wetting and a full one. She’s getting big enough that she can flood her size fives if I didn't keep an eye on her. Those fives should fit her a while longer if I can squeeze my Momma-ass into them! Even the sixes aren’t going to fit me like they fit Molly, but they'd probably fit about like my bikini panties. They would cover my front and rear leaving some coverage over my hips. I stand and poke at the diaper turning little circles in front my full length mirror. I take off my top and bra getting one last look at myself in the mirror before jumping in the shower. It would have leaked more if I'd been sitting on it when I wet it. I’m thankful I only trickled a little in the car. I rub the soaked diaper enjoying the change in texture for a moment. I’m not sure how wearing that diaper changed from necessity to fulfilling some dream of Allen’s, or how it turned from dressing up for him to sort of maybe-kind-of-liking-it for myself, but it did. Allen’s mood must be contiguous. My intentions change from feeling the diaper out of curiosity to pleasure, and I don’t hold back. I shake my head smiling at my reflection in my vanity looking like a guilty child with her hand in her pants. Oddly, even with the diaper wet, it was still comfortable to me. Eventually, I decide I look sort of good in it too. With no small amount of regret, I take off the diaper and toss it into our bathroom trashcan. Still smiling and full of impulsiveness, I get in the shower and wash my hair. My mind is in a million places diner, bills, chores, work, Allen, Molly, and strangely that diaper. My thoughts drift from one train of thought to another, though never fully exploring any to the point of making any decisions. I find myself soaping down my pantie area and reaching for my razor. I shave myself smooth trying to remember why I had stopped, laziness I suppose. I have been tidy recently, but I haven’t been bare since before Molly was born. I know Allen will be thrilled. It feels new and fun and playful to be smooth again. I dry off and grab my favorite fleece nightgown. My mind is still buzzing with dozens of unfinished thoughts clouding my ability to concentrate. My gown is red with little white bears all over it. Allen bought it for me for Christmas a few years back. It reminds me of the Christmas Coke commercials. I tug some boy short style panties, my favorite kind, up my legs and head toward our kitchen. My mind is floating as I move around on auto-pilot. Unfortunately, it’s a common thing for me to be wandering around with my mind adrift. Allen and Molly are still in the guest bathroom giving her potty a whirl. I smile and wave at her behind Allen’s back. She smiles and waves back at me. Who knew her diapers would be that comfortable? I didn’t even feel gross after peeing in it! If she’s having bladder problems and the diapers are that comfortable for her too, it’s little wonder we are having trouble potty training her. I muse. Then, I pad barefoot toward the kitchen, but as I pass Molly’s room I’m struck by a brand new desire. My panties suddenly feel too thin. They aren’t making any noise. There is no sense of air pockets moving around as I move. I thoughtlessly draw closer to my daughter's changing table. I want another diaper. They are naughty and fun and comfortable and… I start justify my actions internally. Wait. I don’t have to have a reason! I’m a damn adult. If I want to wear a diaper around my own home, then I can damn well do it! Before I can second guess anything, I find myself sporting a brand new dry Luvs diaper tucked away safely under my boy short panties. I smile like an idiot on my way to the kitchen. I feel like I’m in some sort of trance, like I’m not totally in control of myself. I can’t reason why, but these diapers are making me happy. I damn near skip the rest of the way toward my next objective. In the kitchen, I finally snap out of my haze and find myself able to focus. I mean really focus on preparing dinner. It’s totally crazy. I simultaneously preheat the oven, start some knock off DiGiorno pizzas, and put out drinks for my little family while setting the table. I know I am enjoying my naughty secret, but I'll bet Allen will enjoy it more. I grow more excited by the minute thinking about teasing him until Doodlebug goes to bed. I can hear them leave the bathroom and head to Molly’s room to change for dinner. You’re not the only one sister! I think. They'll be here any minute and my private time with my growing obsession will end. I am very comfortable standing there in my diaper and nightgown. I sort of feel cheated that it won’t stay on without the panties though. It is fine up and moving around, but as soon as I sit the tabs will pop off. I need my own diapers, ones that fit me better. I decide. I'd no sooner come to that conclusion than my husband and daughter come into the kitchen. They are both smiling at me. I show them a warm loving smile in return. I genuinely love my little family. I guess we are pretending that I didn’t just pee myself in the car earlier. K? I shrug turning back to the work of preparing the meal. Allen helps me set the table, while Molly shuffles back and forth carrying anything we let her carry. We aren’t perfect, but we are happy. Suddenly, I realize that I could hear my Doodlebug toddling back and forth in her crisp new diaper. I hadn't even thought to listen to see if I was crinkling too! As turned on as Allen had been, I am fairly confident I’m not scuttling around as loudly as my daughter is. If I was, he'd have been asking to see it again. I’m almost certain of it. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 3. I try to put the diaper out of my mind and just continue on with my day. I try, but I can’t quite do it. I decide to blame Allen. Him being in the room with me changes how I feel about the diaper. I feel like I could zone out and forget about it if he wasn’t in here. He is though, so I keep focusing on my diaper creating fun random moments where I feel what I am wearing. Those moments cause goofy smiles. These smiles aren’t timed with the conversation at all. They are timed with the bulk between my legs and the tugs at my hips. I probably look crazy puttering around the kitchen smiling at random unexplainable moments. Fortunately, Allen is focused on Molly and I don’t have to explain myself. Allen whistles something peppy and Molly gets up to dance around. She flitters around my kitchen like a little diapered fairy princess. I decide my happiness must be contagious, that or it’s the diapers! It’s all sort of surreal. Two of the three of us are diapered, but only I know this secret. “Daddy da big twuck laid down.” My three year old told her father sitting down. “That's what mommy said.” Allen. “I felt so bad about it honey. We were close enough to see what happened. It looked awful.” Me. “I know babe. I'm sorry you had to see that.” Allen said patting my hand. “I falled asleep daddy.” Molly. “You fell asleep.” Allen corrected. “She didn't make it long. She left me all alone stuck in traffic and bored to tears. If it wasn't for AC and candy crush, I'd have gone crazy.” Me. “And what about the potty situation?” Allen asked with a smile. Bastard, I project at him mentally. “I didn't make it daddy. I went potty in my sleeps.” Molly. “That's what your diaper is for princes. You'll make it next time. And you went potty in your sleep.” Allen told our daughter with comforting confidence. “We all need some help sometimes baby.” I tell Molly patting her shoulder. *ding* “That's me guys. Let me get our pizzas in.” I tell them standing. I get up doing my best to move normally, but it proves harder than I expect. The small bulk of my toddler's diaper between my thighs alters my gait a bit. I probably look just a tiny bit uncomfortable in the ass area while walking, but in my mind I look like a bow-legged cowboy. Gonna have to remember to practice with that a bit. I think forcing myself to walk normally. A few strides and I’m standing at the oven. My waist is hidden from my family. I put the two pizzas directly on the rack. Mhhhm crispy pizza… As I bend down, my diaper pulls tight and my nightgown rides up my thighs. The diaper is peeking out of the waist band of my panties, but my gown doesn’t ride anywhere near that high for it to be seen. If my husband could see me from the table, he’d likely see the diaper behind the tight thin material of my panties poking out from under my gown. I know he’d be looking if he could! Too bad for Allen. I think and wiggle my ass in the air like a happy puppy. Then for the first time I hear myself crinkle. I break out in a huge smile and can’t hold back the happy giggle. “What's going on in there?” Allen calls from our tiny dining area sounding suspicious. “Nothing.” I call back still laughing. “Sounds like we're missing out on some fun in there.” Allen. “Nah, everything is great. I'm just glad to be home with my family.” Me. I go with a partial truth since I don’t want to talk about the diaper in front of my Doodlebug. I don’t want to admit it, but I want to keep it a secret for myself too, at least for a while. I feel like me wearing a diaper on purpose would be confusing for Molly at this critical potty time. I fail to consider that I have already been caught in one, and that to her perception of things probably wouldn’t be any different. I walk back in the dining area swaying my hips trying to look seductive as possible in a fleece mid-thigh nightgown. Allen’s smile is full of promises for adult fun time with excitement dancing in his eyes. That promise of intimacy lights a fire in my already warm diaper. Shaving had been a terrific idea, and it’s adding to the excitement of my situation. I can feel my entire diaper. It’s feels like taking a Band-Aid off a finger after several days and feeling things directly against your skin again, only in reverse. All that cottony goodness feels delicious. I saunter over to Allen bending to get a big girl kiss from my husband. I can hear myself crinkling and it just ups my thrill level. Too bad I can’t just send Molly to her room. We could get naked in the kitchen if she weren't in here with us. Yeah, I’m that freaking horney now. After I confirm for Allen that naked things are coming with my lips, I sit back down. I take a deep breath to ask Allen about his day and try to focus on something besides my rampant teenage-level hormones when Molly tugs on my sleeve pointing at the coloring books on the table. We keep a twenty-four pack of colored pencils and a stack of coloring books on the kitchen table for just such occasions. Molly talks, but she's not much for conversation, and those colored pencils have saved more than one meal in the last few years. “Hey Doodlebug, let's color Daddy a picture.” Me. “May I have da street one Mommy.” Molly. “Good manners princes, it’s THE street one. Sesame Street.” Allen. “I'll take the Spider-Man one.” Me. Molly just sort of ignores her dad’s verbal guidance reaching for the requested book. We color a few pages while waiting on the pizza to cook. I take my time and color my picture thoroughly. It’s a nice job, if I do say so myself! Coloring has always been therapeutic for. I really relax simply sitting there in my diaper coloring Spider-Man pages with my daughter. “Rob, babe, don't chew on your hair.” Allen chastises me. “I, what.” I blew a raspberry spitting my blonde hair from my mouth. “Jeez, I haven't done that in years.” I stutter softly to myself. *ding* Allen puts a hand up to stop me from getting out of my chair. “You just keep coloring babe. I'll cut up the pizza. You look sort of cute sitting there.” Allen smiles at me. “Yay, Mommy cowors wid me!” Molly. “Colors.” Allen. “Colors.” Molly says concentrating. “With.” Allen. “Wiff.” Molly. Allen shrugs indicting that her last shot was close enough. “Alright, since you're both twisting my arm.” I grin happy to stay seated and finish coloring my page. I knock out the page I started while Allen gets the pizzas out of the oven and plates them. Then, I pick out another page from my super hero coloring book. I’ve always loved superheroes, but it is a causal fandom. I decide to see how black and yellow looks on our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Cause… why not? I unconsciously narrow my focus on my coloring. I slip away from all the fuss that usually clouds my head. Full Coverage. Stay between the lines. Even color depth. Light position. Let’s see, I’ll trace the outer edge of the yellows to a darker shade just inside the existing black lines. Yeah, I like that. Really helps the contrast with the black to yellow conversion. Molly and I are coloring so hard that we don’t even notice Allen coming back. He walks up to the table and sits the two cut pizzas down, and grabs our drinks for a refill. When he walks behind me to get to his seat, he reaches down and slides a finger between my cheek and my hair. He pulls gently and I feel my hair tugging from my mouth. Again? Huh, I didn’t even really notice. “Rob, baby, I asked you to keep your hair out of your mouth.” Allen chastises me again with a huge smile on his face. “Sorry, I truthfully didn’t even notice that I had started chewing on it again.” I apologize. “Asked me…” I mumble loud enough to be heard on purpose clearly displaying my displeasure. “Sorry babe. I just don’t want Molly to start that. Apparently, it’s at least a twenty-four year habit.” He tells me tucking my hair behind my ears on both sides of my head. It’s a sweet gesture. I loved him for it for giving me the tender reminder. His hand rests on my shoulder as he looks at Spidey’s new threads. I reach up and put my hand over his trying to push my love through the contact feeling a bit guilty about being pissed. “Cool costume remake. Eat up girls. Friday night is movie night. I’m feeling some like Dory since the second one is out. I haven’t seen it yet.” Allen. “I love Ellen. Such a sweetheart.” Me. “Nemo!” Molly squeals. “Speaking of nemo, when is the last time we did the filter sock? I think the charcoal is due too. Do we have any saltwater mixed up?” I ask Allen. “Yeah, I have like twenty gallons mixed up on your cart.” Allen. “Do you want tank work or dishes?” I ask Allen as I plate some pizza for Molly and me. “Uh… we’ll get the dishes. You fit down there better than I do anyway.” Allen fires away at our long running size joke. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 4. Allen’s nearly six and a half feet tall and a bit over two hundred fifty pounds. I likes my men big! Me, I’m pretty average at five foot three. The pediatrician is positive Molly will race after her Daddy’s height, and that I’ll soon be the shortest inhabitant of the house. Frankly, it won’t be as far away as I’d like. I’ll have a giant of a man and an Amazon of a girl around here in about ten years. “Good thing I’m close to the floor! Someone has to clean up after you you great hairy beast!” I giggle. We joke and eat till about seven thirty. Molly is practically yawning at the table. Her normal bedtime is eight. I’m antsy to have her in bed safe behind her door. I’m horney and my diaper needs my husband’s attention. We Smiths are early to rise, it’s just, Allen and I are late to bed and early to rise. When Molly is asleep is the only time we get to be a couple any more. We guard that time jealously. I wonder if we could keep up the eight o’clock bedtime even after we don’t send her to bed at that time. I could make it room time not bedtime… I mean she wouldn’t have to go to bed, just be in her room. I have no idea how successful that will be, but Damn! It’s worth trying! Weekends are the exception. Molly pretty much gets to stay up till she crashes on Friday and Saturday nights. It’s clear she isn’t going to last long today. I yawn and stretch too as I stand. I feel my nightgown lift, and just for fun I bend forward a bit making sure that I’d flash my diaper at the living room. I flush realizing I’m being more than a little bit naughty. Allen and Molly get up to work on the dishes and I head toward the living room to work on our aquarium. It’s a nice custom one-hundred and ten gallon tank I’d made. Allen is pretty handy with wood work so I “let” him help here and there. We had special glass cut for the front panels, and we siliconed our own aquarium together. I had researched for months and planned the whole tank design. It was a bit of an obsession for a while there. I can get like that, you know stuck on something. We talked it through and built both the tank and stand to make water changes and maintenance as easy as possible. So easy I could do it myself, but in the end it is still my tank. They are my fish and coral, and my responsibility. Allen and Molly love watching them, but they’d both rather leave maintenance to me and just enjoy them. Getting to work, I drop the clogged filter sock into an old butter dish and put a new one in the sump. I scrub some algae loose from the sides of the sump and the display tank. The whole time I relish in the not so private pleasure that my hidden diaper is bringing me. Allen and Molly don’t make it back into the living room until after I finish up with the tank which is a clear loss for Allen. I was flashing padded ass cheeks left and right! I sit down on the loveseat with my aquarium directly to my right. Allen comes in with popcorn and Molly is carrying some cans of pop. “Allen, you’re spoiling me!” I tell him lovingly. “There’s no one I’d rather spoil more, except maybe my princess.” He says sitting the popcorn down and hugging Molly. Soda goes right through me. I wonder if he’s figured out my diapered situation? Molly has a little bean bag chair in the rough shape of a recliner. It’s pink and covered in ponies. She pulls it up beside her father's legs. I tuck my feet up under me sitting side saddle facing the TV with the tank on my right, Allen on my left, and the hidden diaper on my butt. It is heaven for me. I pull my fleece gown up a bit so I didn’t feel like I’m trapped in the shirt. Claustrophobia inside one’s own night gown sounds goofy, but wake me up tangled like a burrito and watch me flip the hell out! I purposefully flash him my pantie clad rear end. I bet if he tries hard, he could make out the outline of the diaper in the tight material. The abstract pattern on this pair probably prevents visible edges. I smirk behind my popcorn. It’s thrilling. Sitting here diapered is so innocently naughty, so inappropriately comfortable. I wiggle around excessively trying to get comfortable. I’m purposely filling the air with crinkles. I feel like a kid again excited about the unknown parts of sex with my partner. It’s fucking amazing. This could be addictive… I ponder. Allen just has no reason to look for that sound coming from my rear end despite me being this close to him. Besides, Molly is having trouble being still and clouding the air with diaper noises. One of my true pleasures in life is people watching. Watching them fight sleep is very entertaining too, especially toddlers. She’s wiggling all over the place even shaking her head trying to stay awake. He has no real reason to believe it’s me. Nothing but the sound even connects the noises with my hidden secret. Allen just laughs while watching Molly watch the movie. We’ve seen it a million times, so we mostly “people-watch” her while she watches her favorite parts. Allen gets out his tablet and starts reading some fantasy novel or another. The man reads all the time! I keep wiggling around and smirking behind my drink and popcorn. Once he draws the connection it’ll be obvious like a blinking neon sign, but apparently not until then. I decide to up my flirty game. I stretch out my legs until they are touching Allen. He looks over at me with an inquisitive look on his face. I just smile and rub his thigh with my foot. We aren’t very adventurous in the bedroom, but neither of us were board either. We were just happy, and happy is ok too. Allen reaches down and rubs my sock covered feet. It feels heavenly and I can’t help the little moans that escape my salty lips. Damn, this feels so nice. His strong hands cause me to writhe in happiness, hidden pleasure, and with a touch of pain. Turns out, my feet are knotted up muscle mess and I really needed a message. “Mommy, u k?” Molly askes. “Yeah Doodlebug, mommies feet hurt and Daddy is fixing it. It kind of hurts, but makes me feel better when he’s done. Daddy is super strong.” I explain. My little goofball just looks at us and then uprights herself. She throws her legs over mine with her head in the seat of her chair. She’s totally upside down at this point. I cringe knowing this is going to wake her up a bit. “Daddy fix my feets too.” She asks/demands. “Mommy, I’ve only got one hand. Can I fix Molly’s feet?” Allen. “Of course Daddy will, Molly will probably feel so good she’ll fall asleep.” I tease my inverted yawning daughter. I love a foot rub, the intimate contact, the message itself. It always feels great just because someone cares enough to spend the time on me. I’ll spend the time on Allen later, and he knows it making him an eager participant. After a few minutes I have Molly sit up, “Ok Doodlebug, right yourself. You're showing your panties to God and everyone.” Molly “eeped” in that little girl way and swirls around having been totally ignorant of her exposure. Allen had rubbed her feet for a few minutes and that had relaxed her enough that she’d nearly fallen asleep upside down! Turning around like that will keep her up a few minutes longer, but it couldn’t be avoided. He resumes his one handed mission to turn my feet in the well kneaded butter, it was melting me too! I take whichever foot that he isn’t working on and keep a steady rub on his thigh. I’m craving a different kind of contact, but this will have to do for now. Molly throws a last yawn around the room before simply leaning over and falling asleep. We wait a few moments after her head goes slack in her bean bag recliner, then Allen turns off the movie. I get up slowly so as not to spook her, and clear a path through the toys in her room. Allen follows me into her bedroom after having given me enough time to clean up a bit. He lays our Doodlebug Princess down for the night. We pray over her and sneak out of her room. Closing the bedroom door is always the trickiest part with the highest risk of waking her, but we manage. I head for the living room and Allen makes for the bathroom to get his shower. I’m tip toeing around my house picking up toys, bowls, and popcorn kernels. I hear my crinkling and it just ups my arousal. A bit of a wicked thought strikes me while I’m sitting in the living room by myself. I realize that diapers are going to be a part of my life from here on out, if for nothing else, randomly injecting some fun into our love life. I’d never given them a second thought beyond protecting stuff from Molly’s leaky rear end, but I have now. I commit myself to teasing Allen with my diaper covered ass. I slip my panties down freeing the diaper. I hope this thing will stay on without my panties. God, this feels like the first time I wore lingerie. How weird is that! ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 5. I sit gingerly down on the couch. My Momma-ass spreads wider than I’d like as I sit. The tape and hook/loop tabs of the child’s diaper dig into my hips as my shape changes. Nothing pops loose, nor do I hear the sound of the hook and loop pulling free. I smile to myself and wiggle my butt a bit against the couch. I'm rewarded with the lovely crinkle that accompanies the cover of my diaper. I also hear a hook or two pop loose as I played, but the tapes don’t come off. I press my hand tightly into my hips reseating the tapes. I end up sitting out there with my panties on the floor in front of the couch wearing only my nightgown and socks. After a few moments, my head clears up and another teasing thought occurs to me. I’ve never been this forward or aggressive with my own desires. My husband is a young virile man. I’ve always been the bottleneck in our love making not the catalyst. Allen is ALWAYS ready. I smile to myself standing up and picking up my panties with my toes. I toss them in my bedroom on the floor in front of the bathroom door. I bait my trap with the best cheese a married mouse has, my vagina! I know I want to wear a better fitting diaper, and I’d be petrified of my sudden crashing desire for them if Allen hadn’t been so turned on by this situation. Instead, I giggle excited like it was my first time walking back to the living room. Something about these diapers appeals to me. Uncharacteristically, I don’t find myself over analyzing things. I realize that my anxious nature seems pacified for the moment, and I try to just relax and enjoy it like Allen is always telling me too. I’m a whole hog kind of girl. Once I decide I’m into something, I do jump in the deep end with gusto. I mean, I seriously have 3D renderings of my aquarium, sump, stand, and cabinetry that we made. Hell, I had to learn Google Sketchup to build and test everything which is a whole different obsession that grew from the simple idea of keeping fish and coral. Holy Crap! If I don’t get a handle on these new impulses I’m going to end up throwing my whole damn pantie drawer away! I’d end up filling my closet drawers with diapers! The thought just causes me to smile and wiggle my ass instead of freaking out and nibbling my finger nails like I normally would have. Running around my living room carefree and diapered is another new liberating experience for me. Allen comes in the living room in his boxers and just stops to stare at me. I’m dancing around to the music in my head and smiling to the world about my unconventional underwear. He sneaks up on me and glues himself to my backside. He’s clearly still excited from seeing me earlier. I feel a flush of heat realizing that I’m standing there in my diaper in front of him, even if he doesn’t know. I can feel the evidence of that excitement even through my padding. Just when I think my level of arousal can’t elevate, he finds a way to do it again. I can’t wait for him to discover my new… packaging. Suddenly, I’m a woman possessed. A wild thing growls out from my throat as I grind backward into my husband. I bend down to the coffee table and start my sexy Pandora station. Allen and my diaper are really pushing all my buttons. I can hear the diaper crinkle with every gyration I make. I swing my hips in time with the beat of the music teasing both of us. I feel like I’m on the edge of every nerve in my body. It’s fantastic. I feel sexy. I feel seductive, and my poor husband doesn’t even know what has overcome my normally docile demeanor. I crack a smile, Diapers are making me more bold. How screwy is that!?! Allen reaches down above my panty line and starts to inch my nightgown up my legs. He continues to wad the fabric up in his hands. I swear the crinkle seem to grow louder every centimeter the gown rises. “Suddenly, I'm all hot Hon. Just take it off me, and let's go to our room.” Me. “Your wish is my command my lady.” Allen carries on playfully. I wiggle out of my less than sexy nightgown as I turn to face him. He pulls the top over my head slowly exposing my breasts, but not the diaper. I’m too close to him for him to see it yet. I pull him into a hungry kiss continuing to distract him. I grind against his leg marveling at his muscular thighs and how they feel beneath the padding on my crotch. “Take me to bed lover.” I purr into his mouth. I think he grunts but I'm not sure. I crawl up him straddling his stomach and locking my legs around his waist. We continue to make out as I cling to him like a baby monkey. We make the night rounds shutting off lights and locking up the house in fits of amorous laughter nor breaking the long kiss. “Get me a water honey.” I growl into his mouth still undetected. Allen redirects us to the kitchen, and I grab a bottle of water as we pass by killing the kitchen lights. Suddenly, one of Allen’s skillet sized hands cups my diapered ass easily encompassing an entire cheek. He presses my pelvis against his fluffy abs, and redoubles his affections on my neck. “Oh my god.” His gravelly voice pours into my ear as he finally comprehends my diapered state. “Same one?” Allen took his turn growling. “Nope. I’m crinkly, dry, and clean.” I manage in return biting at his ear. “You put on a new one for me?” He rumbles. “I think I put it on for both of us.” I admit feeling the blush on my skin from head to toe. Allen’s other hand leaves my back and directly grabs my diaper covered tushie. All the way to the bedroom, Allen runs his hands over my new underwear. He traces every edge he can get to playing with the elastic around my legs and waist. I start to slide down my husband when as enter the bedroom, but I stop when I feel his excitement pressing against my padded kitty. If ever there is a time for a human to purr it is right fucking now! I do my best giving him a human purr against his hairy chest. Allen pulls me back up and kisses my mouth like he had before we got married. If I had any doubts, any at all, that kiss removes them. He’s totally into this! We aren’t a kinky couple, but it seems we’ve have stumbled on something a bit off of center. This whole thing is driving me wild and I’m dripping with excitement. It feels like it’s driving him wild too. We have a thing! I think smiling into Allen’s aggressive kisses. Abruptly, I’m flying through the air. I laugh arching through space grunting on impact. I hit our bed a giggly umph. A fit of laughs assault me as my large husband crawls up the bed between my legs and re-tapes my diaper where it had popped loose. It’s heavenly and I make noises to let him know I approve. Allen rises up on his knees taking in my mostly naked visage. My flushed chest heaves with the rush of excitement. I’m not the teenager I was a few years ago, and seeing that look in his eye is the most flattering thing in the world. I find myself waiting patiently for something. I just don’t know what yet. “Babe, I swear you in this diaper is the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He tells me jumping up from the bed. He grabs his phone from the nightstand where he’d left it while he showered. If Allen has a weird thing, it’s how often the man showers. Meh, we all have something! He smiles at me and nods toward his phone. Allen travels for work occasionally. I have always allowed him to take pictures of me. He keeps them on a password protected website that we both have access too, but I administrate. He’s not supposed to be able to get the pictures off there, but I trust him so I don’t lose sleep over whether he can or not. They aren’t on his phone for his buddies or employees to stumble across, and I can access it and remove the stuff I don’t like or change the password at will which I do frequently. I setup the account so that if he ever leaves me he can’t reset the password. I know he could probably get around the no download settings and save them, but I trusted him enough to marry him so... I tug the sheet across my midsection to cover my tummy. I partially obscure my chest and diaper, but this is my permission to his request to take pictures. He just smiles and starts clicking away. He poses me and snaps pictures until we can’t take it anymore. I guess he’s afraid he’ll never see me this way again and wanted the record the night for his personal time or when he was away. I don’t mind, better me than someone else as his fapping material. It always makes a girl feel powerful to turn her man on. I’d go in and crop my face out of these pictures later anyway, but for right now I get even more excited thinking about him stroking himself looking at these pictures. After what seems like forever, Allen finally touches me. I’ve been in a wanton state for so long that my little diaper is literally damp, but not because of any traffic related accidents this time. I wet this one with anticipation. He puts the phone down and crawls up in the bed to lie beside me. His hands and mouth wander everywhere. I fall in love with the sound and feel of the diaper as he plays with me. The feeling inside my diaper as he runs his fingers along the outside of the leg gathers is amazing! It is the most tantalizing thing I have ever experienced. I feel like a teenager again getting felt up for the very first time. This feeling of renewed sexuality is driving me nuts. “Time to unwrap my pretty princess.” Allen says breathlessly. Then I remember that I have another surprise waiting for him. I’m totally shaven for the first time in like four years. Depending on how he reacts, I intend to stay shaved for a good long while! It feels terrific in my diaper. “Holy Shit! Just when I thought this couldn’t get any better.” Allen looks at me lustfully and amazed. His camera is instantly in his hands again, and he is clicking away at my shaven crotch resting in my opened diaper. My hips involuntarily grind against the open air in excitement. “Take me Allen.” I insist reaching my limit. He leaves the diaper under me and assaults my kitty. After bringing me off a few times orally, Allen takes me with an animal passion. The diaper lies forgotten on the floor by the side of our bed. When we finish and roll over to our backs panting and staring at the ceiling, I decide I rather enjoy the reaction my unconventional underwear sparks in my man. That thought brings a big smile to my face. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 6. “You animal. That was perfect. I don’t think I can move.” I say sighing happily.“Yup. *pant* it was *pant* amazing. Thank you so much for wearing that for me. It must have been weird for you, but I really appreciate it. You looked so freaking sexy!”He still thinks I did that for him. He thinks that I wore the diaper because it made him horney. No wonder he took so many pictures. He thinks I'll never wear one again!“Babe, after my shower I was walking past Molly’s room and I sort of followed a pull, and put that other diaper on. You sort of caught me prancing around in it enjoying the feeling of my shaved kitty against the diaper.” I say blushing but confidently.“You mean you wore that for you and not me huh… Well, I guess I’m thankful either way, but why did you want to wear another one?” Allen.“Awe, I don’t know. They were super comfortable. It turned you on a lot. I sort of liked their feel. I felt naughty. I love turning you on.” I tick off on my fingers.“Oh yes it did.” He interrupts trailing his fingers down my side.“I don’t know. I didn’t think of wearing another one until after I finished using the first one.” I blush… again.“What do you mean baby.” Allen says wiggling his eyebrows, the old pet name implying something new between us.“I sort of wanted to see if it could hold, ya know, everything.” I mumble.“Did it?”“Almost, but those are a little small on me. When I get some that fit me better, I don’t think I’ll have that trouble.” I tell him thinking out loud with no leash on my tongue.“When you get bigger ones? This gets to happen again?” He asks in a hushed tone.“I want it to. It drove you nuts, and I was kind of already there. I can’t believe how turned on I was.” I admit.“Was that a four or five?”“We just moved her into the fives. I saw sixes at Walmart though.” I hint.“We need anything else from the store?”“List on the fridge. Whooo… Al, it’s like nine-thirty. Stay in bed.” I exhale totally exhausted.“I'll be back baby.” He chimes entirely ignoring me.“I’ll be right here then. I can’t really move yet anyway.” I yawn.He leaves the room headed for the bathroom. I, however, have trouble relaxing back into my post sex numbness. I feel restless lying there naked, but still too weak to do anything about it. I just can’t get comfortable. Something just doesn’t feel right. A smile creeps across my face. I know what I want. No, not what I want, I know what I need. I wiggle and scoot to the edge of our California king sized bed. I reach down to recover my discarded diaper, but that’s about as far as I get.I let out a breath and sort of fall asleep with my arm hanging off our bed. I don’t mean to. I had meant to put my diaper back on and curl up in the bed. Instead, I hear Allen’s phone click again. I can’t be bothered to care. He smiles at me and my eyes flitter closed again. I feel Allen put the diaper back on me. It seems like it’s easier for him get it on me than it was for me to put it on the first time. I must have stretched it out. My knees stay butterflied open and he pats my thigh standing up. I hear the door close and roll over falling back to sleep. I float halfway awake and sigh into these new unidentified emotions. I crawl my crinkly butt back up to my pillow and stretch my diminutive body out. I fall back to sleep waiting on Allen to get out back from the store. I “eep” dramatically waking up to Allen rolling my hips over and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I look into his eyes. They are still hungry for me. I grind my hips against my padding and decide that I’m getting aroused all over again. I call him to me and he takes me again. We haven’t had sex twice in one night since Molly was born. This time is amazing too, but it’s slower and more caring. My diaper doesn’t survive this go around. He rips it straight off my hips. Thankfully, it rips at the sides and doesn’t spill the inner crumbly stuff everywhere! We make slow happy easy love until we both pass out naked with Allen still inside me. Sometime around three AM, I weasel around our big bed until I my feet hit the floor and head toward my bathroom, nature is screaming at me. At that point a shower was the fastest way to go potty and clean up. I jelly leg out of the shower at half past three AM. I’m dry, freshly shaven (again), and lotioned up. I head back to the bedroom. “All clean?” Allen asks groggily.“Yup.” I smile wearing nothing but the towel on my head.Allen reaches across the bed and grabs a bag of size six Luvs diapers. There is no need to fake my smile, or try to hide how happy I am. I’m sure he'd be able to tell if I tried anyway. I just can’t figure out why I’m reacting this way.He tosses it to me and I fall even more in love with the diapers and my man. Even the dang package crinkles perfectly in my hands. I flush with happiness and anticipation, and a splash of embarrassment. He chuckles heading for another well-deserved shower.I tear open my very own stash of diapers, and can’t be happier to have them. Doodlebug isn’t going to be the only diapered princess around here anymore. I usually sleep in just my panties, but that didn't feel right with the diaper. I fish around and find one of Allen's wife-beater undershirts. I pull it over me for a top. It fits tightly across my moderate bosom. I look around a bit and notice it leaves some killer side boob!I giggle to myself and easily tug his shirt between my legs. I look a bit like I was wearing one of Molly’s snap crotch onesies. I add that to my list of things I suddenly need.Abandoning my playful thoughts, fatigue catches up with me again. I yawn a great big face splitting yawn and fall into bed. I pass out on top of the covers in wonder that he’d run off in the middle of the night for me like that. Allen turns down the air and tucks me under the covers coming after coming out of the bathroom.And that's how I wake up at about six am dying to pee again. I rub my eyes and look at my phone. No point in holding it till eight (when Molly usually wakes up on the weekends), I just decide to get up and go. I’m pretty sure I'll fall back to sleep pretty fast, I’m still pleasantly exhausted.I roll onto my back so I can scoot off my side of the bed. That movement reminds me of my diaper as I slide across the mattress. I smile and immediately and try to relax. I don’t know how much I have to go so I took about fifteen minutes to slowly fill the diaper. Hehehe yay no leaks! Slows the way to go. OMG! I should wear these just so I don’t have to get up three or four times a night!I yawn, stretch, roll to my side and pass back out. My diaper is warm and squishy as I pass out. I love it and sleep reclaims me swiftly. I wake up disoriented because my alarm hadn’t gone off. I’m flat of my back with my knees in the air. Suddenly, there is a rush of cold air against my very warm crotch. Allen is changing my diaper!He notices me looking at him, “Princess Mommy! I figured you could use some help. My shirt looks awesome on you by the way.”“Uh… That was on purpose.” I say pointing at the used diaper beside me.“Figured. On purpose for now huh?” He says patting my newly re-diapered crotch.“I wasn’t planning on wearing another one today.” I admit.“The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry.” He teases. Allen has to work today, so I roll over happy and dry, maybe feeling a touch confused. He's gone by the time my alarm chirps at me. With Allen at work, I’m in no danger of being discovered by my three year old. I saunter into the kitchen for coffee in just his undershirt and my diaper. Lots of cream and sugar later, I sit on my side of the couch. I tug my legs up and enjoy the first few sips of my coffee. I stare at my fish tank taking my time waking up. This is my “me” time. My hand drifts to my diapered crotch and an evil grin slides across my face.Behind my smile, I ponder my new underwear and my wardrobe. If I wear something tight everyone would know. If I wear something too loose I'll have the sound to contend with.Too bad I don't have any button crotch leotards. I could wear diapers with a skirt or slacks. I could wear jeans, but I hate to do that for work…I can’t believe I’m even thinking about wearing a diaper out of the house!I sit there staring at my fish swimming around and go through my closet in my mind. I have dressed my diapered Doodlebug for the better part of four years, but never paid the slightest bit of attention to hiding her diapers. I suppose there were handicap people everywhere around me wearing them that I haven’t noticed. So, it can be done…Just have to try things till I figure it out. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 7. By the time I finish my coffee, I have a choice of clothes firmly in mind. I’ll have to try on a few things to make sure, but I think I have Monday figured out too. That takes care of diapers with casual and work clothes, well if they work!I rinse my number one Mom cup, fill the coffee pot back up with coffee grounds and water, and absentmindedly scratch at my diaper. Stretching, I reach over and set the timer for tomorrow morning. I want to kiss that coffee pot every morning when she greets me with that rich drink of happy morning goodness!God bless you morning happiness fairy!I take my time heading to my bedroom simply enjoying the sound of my diaper crinkling in the silent house. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I comb out my hair. I follow my normal morning routine only I do it diapered.A bit later in my bathroom, I wash my face and brush my teeth still lounging in Allen's shirt. I eventually resin myself to getting on with my day. I pat my diapered butt and head over to my closet.Let’s do this!I reluctantly slip out of his shirt and into my pants suit. I want to see how my work clothes fit first. I’m not super interested in any well-meaning three year old assistance while re-designing my wardrobe around my new diapers, so I want to get this done while Molly is still drooling on her pillow. A few giggles and a stray thought or two hit me. I might actually want to wear a diaper to work. What the hell? I have an office meeting Monday morning I’d forgotten about. At least I could fight off the drowsiness knowing what was under my suit…I’m constantly in business meetings including several video conferences. They happen every day whether I’m in the office or telecommuting. My whole team knows I’m working from home these days, but I still feel compelled to maintain business appropriate dress, so my infrequent trips into work don’t change my daily routine much other than the drive in and out of town. I twist and turn checking my pantsuit from several angles in my dressing mirror. The small diaper doesn’t disrupt the drape of the material. The pants are much better at hiding my diaper than I’d have thought. My perky boobs leave tremendously flattering cleavage staring back at me in the mirror from the confines of my suit jacket. I’ll need a peach onesie to tie this all together. But I still feel sexy as hell.Happy with the suit, I switch into some jean shorts and a tank top taking time to put on a light coating of makeup. I stretch my arms over my head and see the diaper peeking out over the top of my low cut shorts. I tuck in the tank top to prevent accidentally flashing the world. The peek-a-boo my diaper was doing draws my attention again to onesies and their practicality. It’s finally time to get Molly rolling. I repeat much of my prep time on her, minus the coffee and makeup! I dress her in her onesie and a skirt, because that's what I'd rather be wearing! I make mental notes on how easy that would be to change my own diaper.“Where’s Daddy?” Molly asks me.“He had to work a bit today. He’ll be home around lunch Molls.”“K, Can I has a poptart Mommy?”“Yeah, orange juice or apple?”“Apple.” She asserts.I make some toast and slather some strawberry jam to go with a glass of orange juice. I take Molly a piece of toast and jam with her poptart. Her tummy is legendarily fickle. Molly isn’t fully woken up yet and sort of spaces out while eating her poptart. I want to grab a couple of leotards today. It’d be ungrateful to be mad at Allen, but I wish he’d have gotten the Wal-mart list last night. It seems he only got the one “vital” thing. I giggle. I need to run by PetSmart for some fish food too.I continue to plan a morning of running errands and scheduling the stops where I won’t lose Molly’s attention. She’s a great kid, but if she gets tired and board… Well, she can get pretty whiney. That’s not my favorite version of Molly to run around town with! We finish up breakfast and clean up after ourselves. Molly seems set on a real effort at “big girl” today. She brings me all the dishes and insists on helping me rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. Molly skips and sings lyrics from Frozen while we finish up.Cute little thing! These are the kinds of mornings you remember your whole life. I feel a twinge in my bladder. My coffee is making its way through me already. Coffee and soda have always had a fast track through my bladder, but it’s been worse since Molly was born.“Doodlebug, why don’t we set you up some TV? Mommy’s gotta potty.” I tell her in third person.Why do we do that? I think deciding I need to invest some pronouns on Molly’s education. [Me] Need anything not on the list? Molls and I are hitting the stores. You may beat us home. I text Allen leaving Molly with Frozen playing while I took off for the bathroom. I don’t expect a return text. Allen will be working hard to finish working so he can get home to us. I realize that I’m headed to the bathroom while wearing one. It’s a more than a little ironic and I laugh at myself. I freeze in the middle of my bedroom. I work to relax my bladder giving my body permission to relieve itself. Which, as it turns out, is super hard to do. I go a bit but can’t fully release. Making my way to Molly’s bedroom, I allow dribbles out between my stepw. I pack her diaper a bag and head back toward the living room. The diaper is quiet enough in the jean shorts that I don’t notice my own sounds. I approach the living room and pause. Should I wear one to the store? God, I can’t believe I was about to leave the house in a wet diaper. I put off the decision and yell at Molly that I have her bag packed and am heading to the bathroom. She’s snuggled up to Olaf on the couch watching her movie and yells back an “ok” at me. Standing in front of my mirror, I shuck my jean shorts and stare at myself in my tank top and diaper. I can see the number six proudly telling the world that it’s mine. The diaper is tight, but I can fit in a baby diaper! These don’t seem near as apt to pop loose either, but they don’t offer full butt cheek coverage, so that’s a minus. On an impulse, I stick my thumb in my mouth, but that immediately feels wrong. I yank it out and wipe it off almost violently. I pose sexily in front of the mirror feeling much more natural in my skin with the thumb out of my mouth. Nope, that’s not for me for sure. I adore how this feels, even soggy. But, I don’t want to sit around with my thumb in my mouth like Molls does. I’m a big girl. I don’t think about it anymore. I untape the diaper and throw it in the bathroom trash the mood being slightly spoiled with my thumb experiment. I squirt some air freshener directly into the trashcan and finish my business in the toilet. Back in my bedroom, I slide a yellow pair of boyshort panties up my legs with a winking smiley face settling on my butt.I pull my shorts back up my legs ready to start my day. Dressed like an adult, I approach my daughter in the living room. I shove my cell phone in my back pocket and grab my purse shouldering Molly’s bag. Entering the living room, I have a sudden change of heart and race off to Molls room to change out her bag. She can be a big girl too. It’s time she starts hauling her own crap around. I’m no pack mule! Plus, she needs some more dignity. I stuff a skirt, some wipes, and a couple size fives in the tiny backpack I’d bought her. It looks like a tiny pink canvas hiking backpack, suitability girly and less childlike. In fact, I bought it because it looks a lot like my business laptop bag. “Here you are Doodlebug. Mommy, er… I mean ‘I’ packed your bag so you can carry it like M… er ‘I’ carry my purse!” I tell her excitedly tripping over my new resolution to introduce some pronouns.“K Mommy! Mowwy wubs it!” I can almost hear Allen correcting her. Nope, I’m not going to do it. She’s too cute. She doesn’t ever need to grow up! Lord knows she’ll never have a sibling! I don’t suffer from the labor amnesia like some women do, and the changes in my body are to pronounced to risk it again. Molly trundles over to me and I slip the backpack over her arms cinching up the straps sizing it to her little back. Molly sways a bit as she adjusts to the weight. She looks like she’s headed out for a super cute hike. I smile widely appreciating my daughter. I’m just happy she’s mine and it makes my heart melt. I snatch her up, backpack and all, cradling her little diapered butt on my arm hugging the life out of her. I kiss her all over her face tickling her with my bangs.“Stop Mommy! It tickles!” “Never!” “Mommy!” “Muah, Muah, Muah” “Mommy! I’m gonna pee!” “Muah”“Mom….eee”“One too many tickly kisses huh? Someone’s butt is warm!”“Meeee!”“No worries Doodlebug. That’s what your diapers are for honey.” That’s what He said! I quip internally thinking of Allen.“I know.” “Let’s get you all cleaned up Molls.” I sit her down and take her hand. We head to Molly’s room for a quick dry-butt. Molly is flat of her back and I’m tugging her new diaper up between her legs when my own crotch feels the absence of a diaper. A sudden charge of jealousy rushes through me. So, I finish her change quickly and we finally make our way out of the house.Holy Shit! What the hell was that!“Molly, baby. Today we have several stops to make ok? The last one is the pet store though. You can see the kitties! Well, you can see them if you’re a good girl for Mom… eh, me.” “Kitties! Me want the Kitties!”I get her buckled in the car and we make our way to the mall. It’s the first time I have been back in my car since I wet Molly’s diaper. I certainly feel its absence the jealousy lingering despite my wishes. Molly talks about kitties all the way to the store. I wish Allen wasn’t allergic. Molly would take such good care of cat. She’d be a terrific kitty mommy!I change my mind and we make our way to Walmart first. I grab some supplies for Molly and some things for the house. In the pharmacy area, I grab some new eye liner and get Allen his sport scented spray deodorant. I have crossed everything off the house list that isn’t food except pads. I always wear a pad these days. My tiny bladder just ain’t what she used ta be, not after Molly. I have my hand on one of Playtex’s assorted boxes when I see Poise Maximum Absorbency Incontinence Pads. My hand shakily moves toward the package. I didn’t think of that. I can get away with these can’t I? I giggle to myself.I pick up the package and then reach back down to grab another. I decided that these could do for work and everyday life. Even if I am caught wearing them, I’m expected to be! I’m about to leave when my eye catches something right there next to those pads. I see the Depends Maximum Overnight Protection. My bottom lip tucks between my teeth. I bite down working it nervously. My palms turn clammy and my heart races. I feel drawn to them. “Mommy. Da mobies stopped.” Molly says jolting me from the stupor.I reach out and take my phone reloading YouTube Kids. I literally shake my head trying to free myself of the gravitational pull of that ridiculous green package. It won’t be denied though. My eyes move of their own accord. With Molly distracted, my hands move rotating my shoulders. I grasp the small size and rotate the bag. The waist size seems ok. They feel amazing. The bag itself feels like a diaper within a diaper. It has an amazing rubbery plastic feel and a marvelous sound. I feel drawn to it like a starving survivor to a juicy cooked steak. I re-arrange the cart hiding the diapers around between the boxes of pads. We grab several things and cover the contents of the cart. I haven’t found the courage to walk out with my head high and proud holding a package of diapers. Nope, not yet. We make our way to the check out and then to the car while I try not to die of embarrassment. I load up the trunk swapping out my stash of car pads in the console and my purse with my new ones. We drive to our next stop, the mall! Molly and I make our way to the family bathroom where I change her and she stands in the stall with me facing the door watching YouTube on my phone. I grab on of the incontinence pads and swap it out with the lightly damp thin panty liner that I have on. I poke at the pad and notice that it’s slightly longer than the back of my panties. I adjust the pad forward so that it won’t make any unplanned appearances while we are shopping. I tug up my shorts and freshly lined panties. God, this feels just like my diaper only with better sides. I wonder if I can use these like a diaper?I wiggle my butt and stand and sit a few times.Good, I can’t hear these any more than my Luvs. “Mommy, zat a diaper?” “No Molls. It’s a pad for grown up girls.” “K”Molly thought she had me cornered, but when I denied that the pads are diapers she believed me and lost interest quickly. Staring at the phone, Molly froze for a moment.My baby just peed I’ll bet.I reach down and check her formerly fresh diaper finding it slightly squishy.“Sorry Mommy.” Molly says sniffling. “That’s what they’re for Princess.” I tell her ruffling her hair. We make our way to the sink where we wash our hands. Then I stand her on sink to freshen up my makeup and let her play in the mirror a bit. Feeling fully “put together”, I wet my hands and tame Molly’s fuzzy thin hair. Hand in hand we make our way to Claire’s.“Mommy! Mommy! Can I has dis?”“May I have this?” I correct.“May I has dis.” She tries. “Give it here. Let me see it.” The cute knit hat has some wireframe kitty ears covered in plastic gems. The little hat is amazingly adorable. I cave because it’s cute and we really are here to distract Molly for a bit. I let her wear it around the store with the tag hanging off. Molly just holds things up meowing at me the rest of the time in Claire’s. She has me cracking up by the time we leave. “Next stop is JCPenny Molls. Mommy needs some new shirts like yours.” God! Why am I so excited to about this shit? This pad is bigger than my diaper was. I shimmy my hips playing with the humongous pad between them while walking through the mall holding Molly’s hand. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 8. I change Molly at JCPenny before we start shopping, she had clearly wet several times.Look Molls, I get it. They are comfortable. It’s hard for you. If kids wouldn’t make fun of you, I wouldn’t even ask you to worry about using the potty baby. I’m sorry. I really do believe it’s best for you in the long run. Mommy knows it’s hard to make it when your body doesn’t cooperate. “Listen Molls. Are you listening?” “Yeah Mommy.”“Baby, you have to try and use the potty. It’s an important part of growing up to be a big girl. Do you understand?”“Mommy, you said dats what der for?” She asks me. “I know, baby. It’s… well, that is what they are for. If you have an accident, it’s ok. Maybe just tell Momm… I mean me if you have an accident. Tell me. Accidents are ok. You can’t stop those.”“I jus happens. Poof and potty in my pants.” Her arms gesticulate.“And that’s fine baby, your right. That’s what your diapers are for. Just tell me when it happens so I know, and don’t use your diapers if you can find a potty. Ok?”“OK.” Molly says defeated. “I don’t like da potty.” She mutters under her breath. Why do I feel dirty? I know it’s important for her. Gah! Being the Mom sucks sometimes!I grab a cart and pick Molls up putting her in the child’s seat. She’s engrossed in my phone while I wander the isles. I need some leotards, the snap crotch ones specifically, but the labels call them bodysuits now.Whatever, they’re onesies! I think reading a tag on a top.“Look Mommy, el-la-lants is weally stwong!” She points at the video about elephants she’s watching.“El-ah-phants” I articulate. We aren’t hurting for money, but I grew up frugal and I always will be. I browse for sales eyeballing cute tops while we make our first pass in the store. There are several designs with various necklines and some with lace around the collar. I move back through all the tops. My eyes land on my new favorite top. I fall in love immediately. It is a blue velvet bodysuit by Arizona with several lacey strings crossing over the cleavage creating a beautiful design. I drape one over the cart along with a few others, including a set of five plain white ones from the underwear section. We head off to the dressing rooms so I can try on these new onesies. The closer we get, the more excited I find myself. Raising Molly is full of Awe inspiring moments, but I’ve been through some stuff college, falling in love, getting married, buying a house, working in marketing, being a stay at home mom, and a part time mom/work from home employee. I’m sure I still have a lot of experiences left to discover in life, but everything about my diapers seems to be thrilling me in new and exciting ways. It’s a bit like re-experiencing my own life with a new filter on the movie, like re-watching black and white memories in full technicolor.Even this simple act of trying on adult clothing that functions the same as Molly’s toddler clothes is exciting me. I hurry into a stall closing and locking the door. I check the bench for lingering push pins and sit Molly down starting a game on my phone. I try on the peach onesie I got for work Monday. Ok. Cool. It fits. Let’s button this thing up. Huh, I can feel the snaps. Don’t like that. You will be wearing a diaper there’s no way you will be able to feel them then. Oh yeah!God, the cut on these are different than Molls. Sexier. Thinner in the crotch. Higher in the hips. I hope the velvet one fits better. My diaper will hang out all over in this one.I run my hands over the crotch of the shirt protected from my smooth skin by a layer of yellow smiley faced hipster panties and a thin pad. I can feel the ridges in my finger print bumping over the ribbed material of the top through the panties on my shaved crotch. OMG! That’s so erotic. Even covered in two layers of fabric and a thick pad, I feel naked to the touch. This is fucking amazing. I can’t wait to feel my diaper pressed in tightly with these. Ok, God please let this fit. I thought grabbing my favorite velvet top.I try on the top. The snaps hit a little further forward than the peach one. It’s far more comfortable than the first one I’d tired on. It comes down over my hips following my hipster panty line pretty closely. I spin in the mirror adjusting the straps on the top tying the fanciest bow I could manage leaving the string hanging low over my boobs.I love it when my favorite is the best. My girls look amazing in this. I push them together, pull them apart, and lift them high and low. Who doesn’t love a top that looks this good no matter where my boobs roam off to! This may be my favorite top in my whole closet! My God this velvet feels so good.Wonder how it’d feel without a bra? I file that thought away for later.I decide to wear the top out leaving the tags on it. I’d never reacted badly to new clothes, so I wasn’t concerned about wearing it out of the shop. The cashier smiles at me scanning the tags under my arm along with the rest of my clothes. She can tell I was in love with the top and compliments me on how it looks on me while asking my “kitty” tons of cat questions. Turns out Molly likes the taste of field mice the best… HA!I’m very much excited to get home. I look down at my watch seeing it is now about eleven twenty. We head to the car with our bags of goodies hand in hand. Molly looks so grown up. My tall little Doodlebug looks twice her age with her height and the backpack, like a grade schooler off to conquer the world. How tall will my little amazon be when she’s really eight, thirteen, twenty? “I love you Doodlebug.” I sniff.“Whaz wrong Mommy?”“Nothing Molls. I was just thinking you look like a beautiful big girl instead of my tiny baby girl.” “Yup. Imma big girl”“Gettin there huh?” I chuckle ruffling her hair. “Mommy I’m wet K?” “Did you have an accident? Let me see how bad.” “You’ll make it till we get home.” “It was a hack-sa-dent Mommy. I didn’t know till I was goin.”I need to pee too Doodlebug. Should I? Allen won’t care, even if I make a mess. Can these pads really hold up?We leave the mall and head for AquaWorlds, our local fish store. I promised Molly kitties. I’ll have to take her to PetSmart on the way home. I resign myself to two more stops instead of one. PetSmart doesn’t have the saltwater fish food that I need though. I’m always forgetting that. The aquarium care stuff is cheaper there, but I only need the saltwater shrimp for feeding the tank today.Well, honestly. The second stop at PetSmart would keep me from buying anything at AquaWorlds. Hey! If you don’t keep fish, you can’t understand how hard it is to walk out without a new fish, coral, or piece of equipment!Inside AquaWorlds, I prowl through their coral frags and make my way to the refrigerated shelves. I deny the impulse to add some new coral to my tank and just get the frozen shrimp. I pay for my purchases and we make our way toward the house stopping only for a few minutes for Molly to poke the adoptable kitties through their cages. She gabs on about the kitties all the way home. Pulling up at the house, I see Allen’s truck, he has beaten us home. Getting out, I finally stop to check my phone. I’d missed a couple texts from him. They aren’t anything important though, so I text him we are home and could use his help.Opps. I’ve been known to get pissed at him for that move.Standing up, I begin emptying my bladder into my inco-pad. I certainly don’t mean to. It’s one of the things I contend with now. This is the reason my panties are always lined. Instead of standing there concentrating on flexing all my muscles until I regain control, I boldly take a step forward around Molly’s open car door ignoring my leaking lady bits. Reaching my leg out for the next step releases a big spurt of pee. The small squirt and pinch move I usually pull in these situations isn’t working. Frankly, I didn’t want it to. I hold back enough that I don’t flood the pad, but every step and flex releases some tiny bit of urine. It actually feels really good not to have to worry about standing in my yard in wet shorts because of the pad. This is one of the little gifts Molly’s trip through my body left me, and it’s one of the reasons I don’t have labor amnesia like some women. I have constant biological reminders of the cost of motherhood. I don’t see as well and had to get glasses! On a positive note, I haven’t had the period-migraines since I had Molly, and I’d had them since puberty started a decade ago. That is sort of amazing to be honest.Pregnancy is still a miraculous thing. My doctor told me that pregnancy doesn’t cause these changes like the eye sight and migraine stuff, not medically. Then he went on to tell me dozens of stories about body adjustments that some of his patients had gone through after pregnancy, some temporary and some, like me, permanent. Peeing myself when I don’t feel like I have to go, just because I decide to change my personal elevation, that seems a bit extreme to me. It happens to me nonetheless. I feel the texture of my pad changing from fibrous to jelly between my legs. I decide to let my body evacuate whatever it feels like is necessary, but try to keep a heavy wetting out of the picture. I force myself not to fight the piddles. It’s a word I coined for myself. It’s what I call these little wetting episodes that just really fucking brighten my day. Ever hear of the walking farts? Well, I have the walking piddles. I take Molly’s hand and lead her, wearing her backpack diaper bag, into the house with the frozen food from the local fish store. I finally stop the piddling and plunk her down on the couch with my phone. Allen comes out of our bedroom at about the same time. I shake my head at the small fortune we spend on water for his showers.“Hi girls! Did you have a good time shopping?” Allen asks kissing my neck. “We did, huh Molls?” I ask looking at her over my shoulder.“Yup, Meow” “Did you get a kitten while you were out Mommy?” “I did! Isn’t she great!?!”“She’s not house broken though.” I whisper loudly giving her a hard time.“Moom eeee!” Molly whines like a teenager. “Wow, learn that move early don’t you girls?” Allen asks me.“The Sass is Strong in this one.” I nod sagely.“You dropping Star Wars puns is hot.” Allen says causing me to blush. Allen pats my butt while our kid is fully engrossed in an episode of SpongeBob on my phone. She’s safely distracted so we can run in and out of the house. He kisses my ear. I sigh happy and turn resting on his chest. Then I straighten up and smack his chest. “Is anyone wet today?” “Allen! Seriously!” I shout exasperated. “I un know.” Molly slurs together.“How bout Mommy? Was she a good girl? Did she keep her diaper dry?” “I did no such thing you turd!” I huff walking toward the door embarrassed to my core.“I had a hack-sa-dent Daddy. Mommy used da potty like a big giwl. She buied big giwl diapers.” “I bought Pads Molly. Pads.” I say forgetting the Depends I’d picked up altogether.“Oh relax honey. It’s ok. I love my girls whether they are wet or dry!” Allen teases.“Stay put Molly. Daddy and I will be right back. We’re just going to the car to get our stuff.” I say dragging Allen outside.“Don’t be mad baby.” Allen pleads sensing my mood.Sigh “I’m not mad Allen, well maybe a little. What we do in the bedroom doesn’t have anything to do with Molly’s little reality. Plus, you don’t go embarrassing me anymore.” I fix him with my don’t-push-mom look. “To be perfectly clear, that’s not a request. It’s an expectation. This is for me and you and no one else. I’m a lady regardless of my clothing choices, and I won’t be belittled!” “Robin, baby, I’m really sorry. I was just playing. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. It was stupid and I’m really sorry.”I let him stew in his own remorse just to reinforce the point I’m making. I may not do a lot of off-center stuff in the bedroom, but come on Internet. I know, at least on the surface, what a submissive is. I am not one of those. I may be meek and a bit humble, but I’m no one’s floor matt. No offense to those who get off on that, but that ain’t me boy-o. I think and throw an angry eyebrow at Allen. I grab my shirts filling up my arms and head back into the house. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 9. Dumping my clothes on the bed, I begin sorting out my new tops by color. I drop the white ones in my whites laundry basket, and the colors I decide to wash individually with a couple older towels each on tiny load settings. No sense in lettings these fade over something I already own.I make several mini-laundry piles and lug them into the laundry room. I decide to start the whites with some bleach first. The water begins filling while I add the bleach, but I discover a problem when I bend over to grab the white load. Apparently, I still need to pee quite a bit. I decide to put these pads to the test.No better room than the only one with a floor drain!I take a wide legged stance and relax my bladder, or try to. I fail. It’s not so much a factor of permission, but a matter of forcing muscles that I don’t EVER think about to open. I guess that’s the thing though. Maybe being flexed shut is the relaxed state for those bladder control muscles. If that’s the case, it’s a bit like doing a bladder pushup! I make a mental note to look that up. Interesting theory. I decide It’s really a mind over matter type thing. I envision a Sci-Fi type scene of casting my consciousness down the nerve synapsis to the bundles controlling my bladder. With the piddles always on the horizon, I have perhaps a stronger connection to my troubled bladder muscles than most people do. I envision my bladder as a hand tightly clasped holding something in.I lean forward bracing myself on the washing machine angling my body in a new way while trying to tug those mental fingers loose. I finally feel my control loosen and I begin to wet the incontinence pad. Suddenly, I’m releasing a full wetting onto the pad, but it’s like the pad doesn’t even try keep up.My hipster panties plus this type of pad don’t make a good pairing. The pad itself stays in a circular shape instead of flattening out gathering correctly. Apparently, I need some full on tighty-whitey granny panties. I don’t know if it fails because of being a crappy product, or because I wasn’t wearing correctly either way the pad definitely fails. I feel the pee trailing down my leg and “eep” shocked back into action. I shuck my tennis shoes and strip my socks off tossing them in the washing machine with the whites. I stand over the drain as my body finishes the business I started not having any options.Sadly, I strip out of my new favorite top that’s now soggy in the crotched. I rinse it in the utility sink and drop some water over the floor using a towel to clean up my mess. When Allen finds me a few moments later, I’m still standing there in my yellow smiley assed panties with a totally soggy incontinence pad soaked so badly it looks like it just phoned in the effort, I mean come on! “Hey Babe. Ooo, Boobs!” Allen says taking a good thirty seconds or so to notice anything else.“Shit.” I grumble when he eventually looks down.“Everything ok over there Princess?”“Awesome…” I threw him a you’re-a-dumbass eyebrow. He waves his hands, “Alright I give!” “Do you need any help Rob?”“I rinsed my top and threw my socks ‘n shoes in the whites.” I say pointing at the washer. “So what happened here? An accident?”“No… an experiment. A failed one.” “What didn’t work?”“Well, I got a new heavy wetting pad to see if I could sort of wear a diaper, but not really.”“Ok”“I piddled a lot when I got out of the car, you know… like I do.”“That’s what your pads are for baby. I really don’t care that you dribble.” “I know. I love you for it too.” I say meaning it while straddling the drain in the laundry room.“I thought this was the safest place to test em.” “I’d have went with the shower…”“Well, damn. I had to go and NOT think of that.” I admit a bit defeated.“Meh, no worries looks like you already cleaned it up.” “I was just going to strip and shower really fast. I’ll wash these panties with one of these loads.” “I’ll take care of that. You just flash me those gorgeous butt cheeks and scoot out of here.”“Allen, you don’t have to. I’m not some kid.”“Well, you certainly are playing at it.” He smirks.“Wipe that look off your face or I’ll kick your ass.”“Ma’am, Yes Ma’am.” He salutes.“God you’re impossible.” I say stripping. “Nah, I’m amazing. I clean up after wet girls around here all the time.”“A wet toddler maybe…”“Nope, I washed your wet stuff yesterday too.” “I… Oh… I… I was going to do that. You didn’t have to.” “Well, I don’t get off on handling your pee or anything, but your accidents don’t repulse me either. You certainly never will!”“Fine, you can be out of the dog house.” I tell him turning to him naked as the day I was born.“I’m going to shower. Did you get the rest of the stuff out of the car?” “Yep. On the counter.” “Will you run a kitchen wipe with bleach on the floor between here and the washer?” “Already planned to. I’ll put the rest of the bags on the bed.”“You can return or throw away those bags of pads. Even if I could figure it out, I’ll never trust them now.”“Done. I’ll just toss em. Not worth the gas or my time to take ‘em back. We should stick them all over something and then take a funny picture.” He jokes. “We’ll do no such thing. My totally manageable leaky issue and my new found love of thick underwear is no one’s business but ours mister!” I say getting a little heated again.“Sorry, not what I meant. Just thinking of that kid from AFV covered in pads the other day.”“Nope. Trash or take back. That’s your options. No negotiation.” “Trash it is!” I leave the laundry room running on my tip toes like a spooked deer. I’m genuinely upset that the pads didn’t work and that my new favorite top is in the laundry room in the sink. I totally stomp off to the bathroom pissed the hell off, just not at Allen, this time!I take my time cleaning myself and lotioning up my skin. When I get out of the shower I fix my hair and do a light coating of makeup. I feel the need to look my best for Allen after him seeing me in the laundry, all boobs out and wet panties. That’s not the look I want to foster! I paint my nails and toe nails too. By the time I’m done, I look like I’m ready to go dancing or for a night out doing something young and fun. Perfect, I think looking in my mirror. This is exactly the level of nice that I’m looking for! I look around in my Tee-Shirt drawer for something cute that will go with my nails. I find a purple My Little Pony shirt that I bought to match one Molly just had to have a few months ago.I feel like a cute day! I can be cute and sexy too. I love it. Ooo, I’ll put my hair up too!I tease my hair into a cute dangling updo with floppy bangs. It feels summery, light, and cute. I scratch at my chest and cup my breasts. I let them fall back to their resting position and smile at myself. It was a hard fight back to this shape after Molly, and I’m a bit proud despite a little remaining pudge. Naked below my shirt, I sit on my bed trying to decide what my bottom half should look like for the rest of the day. I know I want to wear a diaper. So there’s that. I guess I need to decide what I can wear with this top that will help me hide my diaper. I pilfer through my closet and the bottom drawer in my dresser. I sit out a few pieces, but struggle making up my mind. I rest my hand on my hip cocking it out to the side while I stare at my bed. My door pops open startling me. “Ahhh!” “Shhh… It’s just me baby.” “Damn honey. Scared the shit out of me.” I say resting a hand over my throbbing heart.“Didn’t mean to.” “I’m ok now.” I smile at him half naked. “You look amazing.” He smiles at me lecherously. I turn fully to him displaying my fuzz free goodies. Allen smiles the sight. I sashay over to him wiggling my hips as I walk. He stands there mesmerized by my movements. “Hey babe. I can’t decide what to wear over my diaper.” I tease.“I’m ok with nothing!” He gets a well-deserved really eye for that, but knowing him he probably thought it was worth it. “Allen…” “Bah fine. You know I wasn’t serious. I just hate to cover you up. I could stare at you all day.” “Well, we decided to have a child so… no day long ass staring for you.”“I like the new packaging anyway. Speaking of. May I?”“Please.” I giggle and move the baggy overalls I set out further up the bed. Allen takes my ankles and tugs me closer to the edge of the bed. I close my eyes to focus on the feelings. This isn’t the first time my husband has diapered me, today even, but this is the first time I am awake enough to focus on it, to enjoy it. He spreads my legs at the knees leaving then laying open like butterfly wings. My shaven kitty stares up at Allen, and I feel the air caressing my delicate places. His hands trace up my ankles gliding up the insides of my legs. They spread outward at my hips reaching under me to cup my ass tracing the back of my legs pulling them together. I moisten enjoying the luxurious feeling of Allen’s rough hands on my skin. He raises me off the bed far enough to slide a diaper under me. Immediately, I feel that this diaper is bigger than I expected. I resist the urge to open my eyes enjoying the sensory deprivation. May have to add a blindfold to the naughty drawer! ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 10. Allen fits up my diaper tugging it around to center it. This one’s incredibly crinkly. I focus my ears listening to every noise it produces. Finally, he tugs on my diaper pulling it down to the right level on my butt. I feel the diaper gathers tugging at the creases between my ass and legs as Allen pulls the diaper up. He lays the front of the diaper over my crotch and I know it’s not one of my Luvs. Struggling to keep my eyes closed, Allen cups my crotch to see where the front waist will lay. His hand shifts to my waist holding the diaper in the center. My man’s a diapering professional… mhmmmm He tucks the left front side in around my hip and tugs the back over the front panel. Allen abandons his hold on the middle of my waist, and tugs the front side for a tighter fit. He repeats the process on the other side completing the fitting. I wiggle my ass in this larger diaper enjoying the feeling of a properly sized one. It tugs and pulls in the directions of the tapes and across my waist. It feels amazingly tight and secure. I pinch my legs together bunching the diaper up between them. It crinkles seductively as I move my legs like a cricket. Allen parts my legs and lies lightly on top of me. He kisses my heart up into my throat. I drape my arms around his neck and peck his cheek. “Babe, Molly.” I say pushing him up smacking at his chest and standing up. “What am I wearing?” I ask looking down at my fully diapered ass. “I don’t know, I didn’t look. They were in the bag with your trash pads.” “Oh, I forgot I bought those. I was too pissed at the pads. I thought you’d bought me something.”“Bawahahaha!” Allen laughs. “What’s so funny?”“You said pissed at your pads that you just peed in.” “Oh pissed, I didn’t mean that as a joke. I get it.” “Oh crap… still funny though.” “Hey before you go… what bottoms?”“Uh…” He stalls looking his options over. “Oh! The overalls for sure. No doubt.” Allen takes off for the living room to check on our little Phone Zombie. I stand up and run to the full length mirror in the closet. I spin, turn, jump, bend, and gaze at myself in the mirror. I feel awesome. I feel sexy and desirable, and I feel fucking silly. I shrug off the silly and just go with happy. I tug the overalls up and clip the bibs in place. I check myself in the mirror again. I haven’t purposefully dressed cute in a good long while. I have to actually work at looking my age. An older looking girl stares back at me in the mirror. She’s a cute girl, maybe in her late. She sure doesn’t look like a mid-twenties mother! I giggle behind my hand and clap. I jump a few times feeling my bouncy bangs dance around my face. I laugh and bend over touching my toes. I can hear the diaper crinkling away loudly. It’s not as prolific as it was before I put on the overalls, but I can hear it more than I’m comfortable with. Oh, I love how this feels. God, my hips are getting a clammy already though. Gonna have to fix that. I head toward the door pondering the clammy heat around my waist and notice the noise the diaper is making is beyond my tolerance. Yeah, nope… not running around crinkling this much. Hmmm… What to do? I think tapping my chin. I go back to the laundry room inspired. I pull one of my new tops off of a pile of laundry. Pulling a baby blue onesie over my head thrills me. The cut of the onesie leaves it poking out around the collar of my shirt with the overalls, in turn, covering up the decal on pony shirt. Ultimately, I decide to peel off the pony shirt throwing in the load I’d pulled the blue onesie from after fastening up my overalls. I make my way back toward my bedroom having spent a totally conspicuous amount of time by myself at this point. I feel like I need to hurry and get out there with my family but walking by Molly’s room, I catch a whiff of baby powder and ammonia. The smell of pee is there, but faint. The biggest smell is the baby powder. I tip-toe in there and grab one of her many containers of baby powder. Back in my room, I slide my overalls down my ankles and unbutton my snap crotch pulling it up under my chin. I poof out some powder into my hand lightly coating powder around my own hips. Oh, now that’s better. Seems to be breathing fine where the padding is heavy… weird! Better run my hand around my belly too. Nice! This is… OMG! I can’t believe how good it feels to wear a diaper that really fits me! Hell, this may even be a bit too big. Better poof my pussy too! I button my blue onesie wishing I hadn’t gotten the whites load going first. I could have worn the pony shirt. I don’t like the blue with my purple nails, but the Pony top worked great with them. I pull up my overalls and button the bib leaving my feet bare. Girl’s gotta show off dem toes! I laugh at myself wiggling them in the carpet. I really stare at myself in my mirror getting ready to leave my room. I see a toned seventeen year old version of myself staring back. The baggy overalls and the updo really bring down my age. My loud purple eyeshadow also shaves off another year or two. I love the dangling brown curls framing my face. My dark eyes look a little moody and mysterious with the darker eyeshadow. I look like an Emo teenager trying to dress like a little girl… I giggle at my image. It’s ironic that in reality, I’m a twenty-four year old mother who looks like a teenage lady trying to dress like a twelve year old girl. Even given the visual Mobius strip I’m creating, I feel as sexy as hell. It is very odd to look in the mirror at the image I cut, and yet feel as sexy as a nearly naked cat girl on Halloween! I trust-fall onto my bed and roll around a little bit. The noise from the Depends is considerably lessoned with my onesie. With the TV on, or any background noise at all, the crinkle will totally fade away. I should probably feel guilty, but everyone will just assume its Molly, even if they hear something. Well, except at work…hahaha! I stood pausing just a moment at the outrageous thought. I have a hard time imagining wearing a diaper of any kind at work, and yet, an equally hard time going that long without one. I can’t tell if I feel out of control, or that I’ve already accepted this as something I want. It’s a pleasant coincidence that Allen seems to be getting off on it. At least we can be strange together! “What do you guys want for lunch?” I ask the living room where Molly is playing ABC Mouse while Allen reads away on his Galaxy tablet. At least THAT has some educational value. I think watching her tap away at her alphabet. Occasionally, I feel guilty about her tech time. All the “Pros” at raising kids tell you exactly what’s appropriate for everyone’s kids and circumstances. I try to make sure she plays her educational games as much as watching Kids YouTube or one of her games. We color, play, read, and talk in a good balance for us! Molly wakes me up from my soapbox daydream. “Pitha!” Molly screams looking quickly back at her tablet. “We had pizza last night. Nope.” “I’m not super hungry Robin.” Allen admits.“Yeah me either, but it’s like one. I’m not cooking till six-ish.”“How about a sandwich?” He asks.“Yeah. That’ll work. Molls, you want PB&J?”“Pleassse.” Molly begs.“You got it kiddo. Allen, I’m gonna do a small turkey and mayo. Can I get you something?”“Really? Thought I’d be fixing my own…” He chuckles.“You’re not in that much trouble. Besides, I’m feeling pretty awesome right now.”“Good. You’re looking pretty awesome too. Just don’t tell your older sister you’re hanging out with us. My wife gets jealous.”“God, Allen.” I bark in laughter. “Your dad-jokes are getting stronger.” I mumble. I turn to start setting out the sandwich stuff and Allen suddenly grabs me in a hug from behind. His hands invade my overalls trailing down over my not-quite-toned stomach. I feel the bump as his hand hits the onesie covered front of my diaper. It makes him shudder. “I bet you look super cute without the overalls on.” He purrs.“You know I do, but the cut of this onesie doesn’t fit the diaper to well. It’s hanging out on the sides. I look like a toddler wearing her mom’s panties, but I freaking love the feeling, all mushed up. Thanks for changing me earlier. Sorry I got snippy.”“Sorry I was an ass.” We laugh at each other’s apology.“I don’t know where this is going Rob, but I fucking love where it is right now. Make sure you let me know what’s not OK as you figure it out. I don’t like pissing you off, or when you’re mad at me.” “I will. I tried sucking my thumb.” I dangle.“And, did Princess Mommy like that?” “No and I don’t think I like that tone in your voice either. I’m not our daughter or some kid here.” I say politely.“Shit sorry.” Allen moves to stand up and withdraw his hand.“No stay. I’m not mad. You told me to tell you. I was just telling you.” I grind my pelvis against his hand.“Will you wet this one?”“Of course. That’s how I got here. I’m dying to know if it’ll hold.” I giggle and moan at the same time.“Let me know when it happens in case I have to go distract Molly. No sense in her seeing that.”“Yeah. That’s the idea behind these onesies too. They are diaper mufflers!” I admit. He stands up kisses the top of my head telling me I look cute before leaving the room. Allen smacks my padded rear end as he goes. I smile enjoying the attention. It’s so normal and yet abnormal with the diapers. Everything, and I mean everything, feels like a new sexy secret. Every move I make, every step I take, he’s watching me. Hahahaah, I crack myself up! “Hey let’s eat in here guys!” I yell to the living room. We pile up at the table not saying much. I log Molly out of her educational tool and put on Pandora putting it on the bar. Molly and I eat and color some more while Allen reads and eats his sandwich. We have a super terrific peaceful family time singing and eating. “Mommy, I wanna bow bubbles.”“Sounds good to me. How bout you Daddy?”“Good idea girls. Molly, I want to BLOW bubbles.” ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 11. We head outside as a family. It’s bubble time! Molly has like a million little bubble blowing toys. She has a hard time settling on one toy at a time. I’m almost certain she’s got A.D.D. watching her hover over all the options. She attacks the large Tupperware with her bubble stuff taking out a bubble hoop. It’s a bit chilly outside today, barely seventy-five degrees, and I’m just a little too cool in the shade of our covered porch. I move sitting on the edge of the porch by Molly. The sun feels amazing. Allen joins us after a bit with some drinks taking his seat at the picnic table in the shade of the porch. Guess what he does… got it in one! He pulls out his tablet and starts reading.“Your wizards and werewolves keeping you company over there?” “I’m reading a Star Wars book…” He says raising an eyebrow. “Fine. Bubbles and girls are way more fun… Are your wookies and porgs keeping you company?” “Good company thanks.” He sasses me back. “and there’s no porgs in this book! God I hope those aren’t another Ewok Species.”“I loved the Ewoks! They are cuddly and deadly!” “Blasphemy! How could a feral teddy bear kill a futuristic soldier in body armor!” He scoffs.“I can’t wait to get a stuffed porg for the bed and a six inch one to put with my Jar Jar! Oh! Molly will need one too.” I giggle losing my serious tone.“What’s funny Mommy?” “Daddy baby. Daddy is funny!” We both laugh at Allen, each for our own reasons. “We need to start screening those with her ya know. I was thinking of taking her in December.” Allen adds hopefully.“Yeah, The Last Force is coming out then right?” I tease.“The Last Jedi.”“Whatever…” God, it’s easy to rile him up.***Insert 5 min very motivated tirade on how awesome Star Wars is here***(Not sure what he said. I was smiling too hard to hear him!)“Ok babe, Ok! It’ll be fun to watch Molly see the porgs. God I hope Chewy doesn’t eat one!”“GRAH!” He pretends to rage.I do everything I can to rile him up about his fiction. I can’t help it! He just takes it so seriously. I have picked up a thing or two over the years, but mostly just what his hot button topics are. I own a Jar Jar Binks six inch toy just to annoy Allen.“Eep!” I squeal seeing him rock forward to get up. I sprint out into the yard running from my fanatic of a husband. The guy’s as big as a wookie! You’d run too if he thundered across the deck after you! Molly gets up chasing after Allen who’s chasing after me. Molls laughs so hard she can barely run. I can feel my diaper warming up around my hips. I’m thankful for the powder I used earlier. Allen is a typical ex-football guy. He has large grass eating strides, but not classically quick or maneuverable. I am. I’m quick and maneuverable as hell!We race around the front yard laughing, giggling, and with Allen thundering behind me pretending to be mad. Our neighbors undoubtedly think we are nuts, funny, but nuts for sure! That fun comes to a jarring halt when I step in a mole-run or something. The grass beneath my foot collapses under me. I twist my ankle in terrible unintended and hit the ground hard. Well, I hit hard, but not as hard as it would have, cause you know… diaper! I hear a tremendous pop and then pain radiates through me. It hurts, but the whole thing is so fucking funny that I can’t quit laughing even though tears streaming down my cheeks. I roll over and lay on the grass putting my injured leg on the knee of the good leg letting it dangle.“God Rob, are you ok baby?”“Nope, hurts.” I sniffle.“Mommy gonna go to da hospital?” “I hope not Princess. Let me have a look baby.” “Just… don’t move it, or touch it, or look at it. Damn!”Just under fifty minutes later, we pull in at the hospital’s emergency room. There’s an ace bandaged wrapped around my barefoot and the bottom of my overall pant leg. Allen parks the car under the awning and picks me up sitting me and Molly down in the waiting room. “Al, prop it up for me honey.” “K, then I’ll move the car.” “I’m so sorry, I love you.” I tell him.“Oh Robin, I love you so much. This isn’t your fault, don’t apologize. Fucking feel like Bill Murry in Caddyshack.” “But our weekend. God my foot is throbbing. I hate moles.” I give up trying to be the adult here. I sit Molly in my lap as she hugs me tightly. I sniffle into her hair amazed at the pain in my leg. Allen shuffles uncertain of what he should do. He needs to move the car… and register me… and comfort me. He’s uncomfortable with the whole situation and having a hard time deciding what to do first. “Baby… I… Shit, I’ll be right back.” He says finally committing to parking the car first.“Ummm… Daaddyy!” Molly tuts.All I could really do is look at him and let the tears trickle down my face. Shooting wicked arcs of pain radiate from my ankle down into my big toe. I can still wiggle my foot so Allen didn’t think my leg was broken, but there is something structurally wrong with my toe. It doesn’t look like it’s laying the way it should anymore. He knows I’m a pretty tough chick. I can handle pain, and my failure to handle this pain is freaking him out.Allen sprints out of the room, the doors slowing him down while he waits on them to open. I lean my head back wiping my eyes while rubbing Molly’s back. I don’t mean to scare her, but it’s impossible to push all this pain aside. “Mommy is ok?” She asks. “No not yet, but that’s why we are here baby. They’ll fix me up.” “You gonna gets crutches?” “Probably, but not right away. They will tell me to stay off my ouchies for a while.” “Girls, I’m back. Molly I have to go tell them Mommy’s here.” Allen rushes over to the ER Nurse’s intake window. He’s up there for a while filling out paperwork and describing my injuries. My phone chirps a Jawa sound after a bit of writing on his part.[Allen] Hey, I need your social and date of birth.[Me] 555-55-5555, *raised eye emoji*[Allen] nvmd on your date of birth… I figured it out.[Me] good![Allen] Almost done baby. We’ll get in pretty fast she says. [Me] *crybaby face emoji*“Allen, unwrap this. It’s too tight. Fold up my pants so I don’t have to take them off.” I make eye contact with him. Allen suddenly remembers my unconventional underwear. “Alright, if it hurts tell me.” “Should I just start screaming and not stop until you’re done?” I ask arching my eyebrow. The nurse comes out calling my name and Allen just picks me up. He holds me like a baby with my arms around his neck and face in his chest. My big toe is already turning some very unflattering colors clashing with my polish, which unreasonably pisses me off on top of the pain. He doesn’t have an arm to hold Molly’s hand with so, he shifts me around in a baby monkey hold my good leg wrapped around his waist. I keep my arms draped around his neck and straddle his stomach with one of his hands under my diapered ass. It is a super embarrassing way to be hauled around! We follow the nurse into a room and he sits me down on a paper covered exam table. We wait about fifteen more minutes with nurses and others coming in and out of the room. The doctor comes in like a paperwork tornado. He pokes and prods at my ankle, leg, foot, and toe. I hold up, but I can’t pull back the tears, that shit freaking hurts.“I’m fairly certain you have a severely fractured big toe. I think it’s dislocated too. I’m sending you for x-rays of your toe and ankle. The bruising is already starting up. That’s pretty quick. It’ll be a nasty sprain if nothing else. I’ll have a nurse clean up your foot before you go in. Your ankle is at least a high sprain and may have some hairline fractures as well, but nothing is massively out of place there. If your toe is dislocated, I’ll have to reduce it before we get you out of here. You’re looking at maybe casts for sure walking boot. The x-rays will tell.” He pats my knee calling for his nurse. The ibu I’d swallowed at home finally starts kicking in. I feel a layer or two the pain peeling back as the nurse cleans my feet. It is super weird and I don’t my like feet anyway, so I’m very uncomfortable. I focus on talking to Allen and Molly instead.“Stop squirming Rob. She’ll be done in a bit.” Allen comforts me. He turns to the nurse, “She doesn’t like feet.”A bit later they wheel me into x-ray leaving Allen and Molly in the waiting room. They painfully articulate my ankle snapping two of the toe and four of the ankle. I thoroughly wet my diaper while trying to hold my ankle in a bad angle that ramps up my pain. Back in the emergency treatment room, “Allen” I whisper. “I’m soaked. I’m super worried I’m going to leak. What the hell do we do?” ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 12. I’m genuinely terrified, but Allen doesn’t appear to have any answers for me. Worse yet, it doesn’t look like I’m getting out of here any time soon. So, we sit and wait on the doctor while I worry anxiously over my wet butt. Molls starts getting impatient fidgeting and starting to whine. Of course, that does nothing positive for my mood! Now I have a soggy ass and a kid that is about to lose her cool. Allen picks her up smiling at me. He sits her beside me in the hospital bed while breaking out his phone.I guess she was quiet longer than I thought she would be. I love you so much Doodlebug! I can’t wait for you to grow out of this awful whining stage though. Lord, it’s annoying. Shit. I’m whining too. I think as I realize I’m pouting. The edges of my mouth twerk up and I smile to myself.We’re still waiting when I feel the need to pee rise. Everything I’d drank at lunch and outside before my “foot thing” calls knocking at my bladders door. I “psst” at Allen catching his attention and motioning toward my diapered crotch with my eyes. I release a little pressure and sigh letting him know that I was wetting right then. I see the comprehension in Allen’s face. He moves Molly to the chair and checks the hospital door. Finding it fully closed, he comes to stand by my head. He leans in and picks me up gingerly. “Why don’t you just finish really fast? Then I’ll take it off of you and clean you up. You can go commando till we get out’a here.” “That’ll work. Hey, just sit me on the toilet… I can finish there.” I whisper out loud improving his plan cause there wasn’t any sense in wetting my overalls.Why the hell didn’t I think of that…? Because you don’t want to be without one! That’s why you twat… I bash myself. Answering your own mental questions is the first sign of insanity? I narrate internally. Then I mentally laugh at myself causing a physical laughing to trickle out into Allen’s shoulder.Allen sits me on the humongous hospital potty. I undo my overall bibs and hold myself up off the toilet while he tugs them down to my ankles. I look up at Allen with a mischievous look on my face and wet the diaper before he can pull it off me. As I’d feared, I over flow my protection hearing my water meet the toilet’s. Good call Princess Mommy! I think to myself.“You done yet?” Allen asks chuckling. “Yeah, hey look there! There’s wipes in here.” I point.“Got ya.” I don’t go commando very often, particularly in jean material! There are some delicate bits that should never suffer the indignity of blue jean friction. I can almost feel the furrows forming in my ass cheeks leaving funny prints in my skin. Redressed and cleaned up, Allen deposits me on the bed. I adjust my overalls moving and tugging the crotch trying to make sure no jean seams line up with my own!The doctor knocks once rapidly and sliding in the room. He puts the X-Ray’s on the wall unit lighting it up. He smiles at us grabbing his rolling doctor’s stool and scooting over to my bed side. Allen drops Molly in his lap and silences the phone preparing to listen to the doctor.“Well, I have good news and bad news!” The doctor breaks the strained silence. I sigh at his response, “Well, let’s start with the bad news!”“K, Good news. Your leg isn’t broken, but your toe sure is!” He says. “I wanted the bad news first!” I huff.“Well, the bad news is your leg isn’t broken!” He dead pans.“I don’t understand.” Allen says. “Well, my diagnosis is a high ankle sprain with a tearing of the ligaments between the tibia and fibula. Frankly, it’s more painful and is a longer recovery than a brake. In fact, most patients with this injury require physical therapy to get back in motion.” He concludes.“Well, that’s not good. Short term?” Allen asks.We talk for about thirty minutes while the doctor reduces my toe. The pain causes me to lurch forward in the bed. I feel the crotch of my overalls dampen. I immediately flush red color swamping my features. The guys simply believe it’s my reaction to the pain, but it’s not. It’s a insane feeling of embarrassment. Son of a BITCH! I yell internally.In the end, I wind up without a cast! They have this wrap-splint thing for my foot that stabilizes my toe and a high ankle walking boot for the sprain. I’m stuck 24/7 in the boot for four weeks and in the toe cast-wrap-splint-thing for the same. The doctor suspects that I’ll be in the boot for another six to eight weeks tapering off after the initial four weeks.The hospital insists that I ride a wheel chair to the emergency room outdoor pickup. I don’t fight them, but I can feel myself piddle when the orderly helps me up and then I sit into the chair. Allen picks up Molly trailing us out of the ER treatment area. I sit with the orderly while Allen grabs the car. We make a bit of small talk, or I try to. It seems like I have too or somehow he’d know that I’d wet myself. This is why I always wear a pad! Fuck! I yell inside fully of anger and shame. God, I just want to be home and cleaned up!Allen pulls up and hops out. Molly waves frantically at me. I wave back at her shyly. The orderly helps me to stand as he comes around our car. I turn around facing the orderly who smiles gently at me.“Sir?” “Yeah?” “Do you have a towel or something? If you don’t, I can get a trash bag or something for your wife.” The orderly murmurs.“I… Uh…” I stutter mortified.“We keep a towel in here for our daughter. I’ll get it.” Allen says walking to the back of the car and popping the trunk. “Oh. My. God. I’m… I can’t…” I flounder for words.“Oh Ma’am. Don’t worry about it. Stuff happens all the time. We have to sanitize these between each patient anyway. There’s no extra work and you don’t have to be embarrassed.” He tells me.“I can’t help it. This is so embarrassing.” “Can I give you a hug?” The fatherly large blonde orderly asks me.“I guess.” He leans in, “Listen, no one comes here because everything is fine.” He releases me.“We’re like IT. No one calls those guys when their computers are working fine just to say ‘Hey, my PC is working great and screaming fast!’ Nope, folks come here messed up. We try to send them home better than they arrived. That’s all we are hoping for. I’ve seen much worse. Please try not to feel to bad.”“Thanks man. She needed that, but she’s still gonna moan for days about this.” “She’s right. the. Fuck. HERE!” Anger is easier than embarrassment. So I go with anger.“Awe, here let me help you up Rob. We’ll get you home and cleaned up!” Allen says lifting me into the car. “Ya’ll take care now!” The orderly says turning his back and waving at us. It is late afternoon by the time we pull up into our driveway. Allen gets Molly to grab my purse and he carries me into the house directly to our bed. I sigh and take another round of Ibu. I’d taken the good stuff the ER doc prescribed immediately after we picked it up at Walgreens on the way home, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. I sag into our soft bed happy to be home, but injured and whiney about it lying on another towel. “On the bright side, you love skirts!” Allen teases. “I do, but I love my jeans more!” I pout. “Are you in a lot of pain right now?” “I think that stuff the doctor gave me is kicking in. I feel sleepy and tingly. Like my fingers are waking up from falling asleep.” I tell him snapping my fingers.“Sounds like it.” Allen chuckles. He diapers me with the same tender care he did the first time. I relax even further lying on the fluffy bead in my fluffy diaper elated to be dry. I put my arms out to the side making a comforter snow angle and giggle at the ceiling. God, I’m high as fuck… hehehehe I realize and find hilarious. “Yeah, I think you are hon.” Allen agrees. “Was that out loud?” I ask with wide eyes.“Yeah.” He laughs at me. “I hate this.” I whimper.“I know. You just can’t stand not being in control can you?” He laughs.“Well, I mean… yeah. Mine! All of it… hahaha.” I laugh.“You staying in here or coming out there?” He asks.“I don’t wanna be all loopy in front of Doodlebug.” “I get it. You just gonna lay there in your bra and diaper? Want some more clothes?”“Uh… yeah rotate the laundry. Remember coldy-cold water for da colors man.” I try for a suffer guy voice. “Oh man, I’m sad I’m gonna miss this. You’ll adjust though. You’ll be fine tomorrow I bet.” He assures me.“Leave me here until the whites dry up. I wanna wear a onesie, but I’ll stay here under the covers until then. Maybe take a nap.” I try to roll on my side. “Let’s get you covered up Princess Mommy.” Allen reassures me patting my butt.“Don’t forget to change me. I’m totally not getting up for peeing in this thing. Hey bring me my phone and put the charger in here… pppppwease.” I let him tuck me in like a kid and quickly drift off to sleep.
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  16. Shocked!

    I was introduced to a friend of mine’s daughter a couple weeks ago. Her father and I are work buddies. Shes quite intrested in me, and I am with her. Taking things slow at the moment and seeing where it goes. The other night her and I started talking about kinks and , SHOCKINGLY!!!!!!, she’s into Dd/Lg. To meet someone who basically openly admitted that she shares the same kinks as me left me speechless. Just wanted to share my great news. Our relationship has just started, so there isn’t much more to report on. I never thought that this would happen, and I couldn’t be any more excited about seeing where it goes.
  17. Hi everyone

    My name is Gina. I am 42 and live with my gf (mommy) who is 2 years older than me. We work for the same firm where I met Kathy (mommy). She is a wonderful mom/woman and we have a wonderful relationship. When I am at work I am her equal, but at home I regress to a little girl between the age of 4 to 8. I am in diapers most of the time, even at work. Mommy picks out my clothes every day and is fully in charge of changing my diaper. I don't misbehave often, but when I do I am spanked, sometimes having my mouth washed out and corner time. I look forward to meeting others with similar lives.
  18. Nightmare Asylum

    First and foremost, thank you @Selpharia - author of the amazing "Of Capes, Cowls, and Cuddles" sci-fi epic - for sponsoring this story. Her interest in our work enabled and inspired Pudding and I to create this wonderful tale. The fact that Pudding's main character in Nightmare Asylum and Selphie's main character in C3 have the same name is purely coincidence! Or is it? *evil laugh* Pudding and I called this story 'Spoopy Nightmare Asylum' for like three months, so it's only fitting that Nightmare Asylum is the official name. I might be a little slow to update this one through because we literally just finished it and it has a ton of editing that needs doing. Anyway, I hope you like it! Disclaimers: diapers, wetting, messing, hypnosis, little, regression ------------------ Nightmare Asylum by: Sophie & Pudding 1.) ”A haunted house?" "No, dummy, a haunted children’s asylum from like old movies. You know, back before kids were drugged up all the time.” On the one hand, it was hard not to be interested, because we were both studying children’s psychology at the university, Ria and me, but on the other hand it was hard not to be disgusted because we were studying children’s psychology at the university. "You're not chicken are you? I mean I guess I can go and ask Cat Stone if she wants to go with me instead? You know that lil' closeted rug muncher's wanted to spend time alone with me for, like, ever..." I didn't like girls. Ria did. I didn't have a crush on her, but boy did she have one on me. And okay, I was a little manipulative. So? "Don't even say her name!" It wasn't that I had anything against Cat, it was just... well, she was prettier than I was. I hadn't quite let go of my high school self-consciousness issues. "Fine. You want to go into the stupid asylum? Then let's do it. I'm not afraid." Though I was notoriously afraid of everything. Bridget, on the other hand, wasn't afraid of anything. It was so annoying sometimes! And so sexy other times... Wahaha. Bridget strikes again! Calhoun Gardens wasn't even that far away, either, so the biggest issue was just waiting for it to be dark enough to be scary. Ria wanted to leave early, so we stopped at a Wendy's on the way to waste some time. Sometimes I felt like our movements with one another were a game of tug-o-war, or the world’s most childish game of chess; always trying to outplay one another. But we'd known each other since Freshman year, and had been untouchably close ever since. We just had... a dynamic. "Are you gonna eat your potato?” I waved a fry at my best friend, eating the way I usually ate: like somebody who'd never been an ounce over 130lbs despite a horrendous diet of fries and Mountain Dew. Genetics, am I right? "No, you can have it." I'd barely ate anything on the ride up. We were parked outside the gates of the building - tall and looming - and the sun had gone down twenty minutes ago. I was so nervous that I could feel it in my fingertips. There was a sign on the gate - readable even from here - that said "Keep Out". "What if we get caught? We'll get arrested. This is breaking and entering. We'll get expelled." "We're not athletes, you dummy, and we go to a state college; our behavior outside of school hours isn't some media spectacle." I rolled my eyes. I wiped my hands on a moist towelette a little too obsessively - because eating food with my fingers was somewhat of a breakthrough that Ria had manage to make with me in the time we'd known each other, but I still didn't like messy hands - and balled up the Wendy's bag to toss in the back of the car. "Okay it seems acceptably dark and spoopy outside now. You got charge on your phone?" I regretted that this wasn't the 1980's where we'd have flashlights and cool stuff like that, because everything we needed was on our phones. "Or, or, or! We could say we went in. And you know. Not go in. I like that plan." "You really are scared, huh?" Bridget sighed. "And here I thought it was sort of sexy, how you were willing to go into the scary dark asylum..." I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling warm inside. Damnit... "Let's go," I mumbled. Hahah! Bridget: 1. Ria's sense of realistic fear: 0. "Alright, let's go." When we got out of the car, Ria fumbled to lock it and I watched her, frowning. "Who's going to break into our car, you ditz? A ghost? Besides we might need easy access to the car if we're being chased by deranged spirits! She frowned. And quick like a bunny, I scampered up over the heavy iron gate that blocked our path. "There's a hole in the fence..." she quipped at me, as I landed, and I stuck my tongue out. "That's less dramatic. Come on!" I opted for the hole in the fence. I was never a very good athlete and that gate was awfully high. Once we made our way quietly across the parking lot, we came up against the side-entrance to the building. The asylum was huge - at least five stories. It took up half the block. "There is no way we are getting in. Everything is boarded up." I turned on my heel and started back toward the car. "Oh well, we tried!" "Yeah, I mean, I guess there's no way in." With a grunt of effort I pulled up the doors to the basement, angled against the side of the building, and waved my hands at the ensuing staircase down into the bowels of the sublevel. "This is so cool, can you imagine what went on here? I'm really curious. I bet it was horrible, though, and that makes for angry ghosts. I hesitated at the entrance. "Stop being a baby. Get down here." So I followed Bridget into the small, dark sublevel of the facility. I didn't even know how old this asylum was. But hysteria must have been a pretty big thing, right? Oh, I should have paid more attention in my psychology class... I fumbled for my flashlight on my phone. "Really? Selfie Light 2017? Don't you have any apps on your phone that aren't for taking your own picture?" I shouldn't tease, honestly, because Ria had the kind of confidence-issues in her appearance that few girls would ever muster, even at our age, and it did nothing to offset how much of a nervous nellie she was in every other area of her life. But hey, taking pictures helped her, right? "Hey the stairs are wet, be careful." That clumsy girl could trip over a strong breeze, so I was amazed we made it down to the bottom in one piece. The only problem was... "Ew..." We were standing in like two inches of stagnant, smelly water. "I am not going any further." "Stop being a baby," Bridget reiterated, but I shook my head. "These are new shoes. I am not going in there. No way, no how." "Then leave your shoes behind." "And step on a rusty syringe and die of poison?" I refused to go down the bottom step, even though the water didn't look that deep. "It's just water, and the sooner we get to the stairs to go up, the sooner we'll be out of it. And look it's not very deep so that means there won’t be any water upstairs, right?" I was pretty good at seeing the positives in things, almost annoyingly so, but she puffed her alabaster cheeks out in defiance anyway. "I'll piggy back you." Which I'm sure would go just fine given the fact she had four inches and twenty-five pounds on me, but hey, I was trying at least. "I don't need you to piggy back me!" I sighed and looked down at the water. Ugh. What else could I do? I'd have to wash my shoes the second I got home. I slowly put my foot down in the mucky water and followed Bridget through the dark corridors. Where were the damn stairs? It was hard to see, even with the flashlights on our phones, and to make it worse the ground beneath the water wasn't exactly smooth either. "Hey, look!" Stairs, at last! But as we got closer there was something just past the stairs... Troubled Patient Wing. We both stared at the doors with the faded paint and brass plaque, and shared glances. "Well we can't not go in there..." "Yes we absolutely can't!!" I went right to the stairs and got my feet out of the mucky water. Already I was regretting this trip. All it needed now was a spider or a ghost or a zombie child. I brushed the cobwebs off my jeans. But when I looked back behind me, Bridget wasn't there. Uh... "Bridget...? Bridget? This isn't funny... where are you?" "You have got to see this." Ria just about jumped out of her skin when I put my hand on her arm, and she shook her head quick as could be. "I promise if you don't want to stay when you see it, you can go, but you have to see it." She frowned. I grinned. I made sure I won. And just like the first time when I'd pushed through the double doors into the Troubled Patient Wing, things changed. There was plush red carpet beneath our soggy feet. Lighting. Soft music. A warm and inviting atmosphere. Like we'd stepped into a totally different place. ----------- The first five chapters are up on our Patreon! Please consider supporting us!!
  19. I managed to find a copy of @Brutal_Ink 's story on another forum so am reposting it here to restore one of the missing stories *.*.*.*.*.I really couldn’t afford to complain…I’ll admit that I hadn’t planned on spending my entire summer babysitting Emmy McKale, but I was getting paid an exorbitant amount of money to do so...And considering that I was currently out of a job, well, beggars can’t be choosers.I finished putting the blankets out on the couch--Emmy wasn’t due to arrive for another ten minutes, but her parents had a late flight to catch. I didn’t want to be the lame babysitter who sent her to bed right away on her first night here.It was summer vacation, after all.I’d just finished laying out the snacks when the doorbell rang. I hurried to get across the living room, and banged my shin on the coffee table.I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing, and hobbled over to answer the door.“Hey guys!” I said, smiling through the pain.“Hello, Mallory. Thanks for watching Emory for us.” William, Emory’s dad, said, handing me an envelope. “There’s money in here for groceries, activities, pretty much anything you might need while we’re gone. Whatever you don’t spend, you can keep.”“Thanks, Mr. McKale.”“Mallory!” that was all the warning I got before Emory crashed into me at full speed, flinging her arms around my middle.I gave her a good squeeze in return before lifting her onto my hip.“Hey, Emmy! It’s good to see you!” Melanie, Emory’s mom, was struggling to carry all of Emmy’s things, so I put Emmy down to go help her.“Thanks, dear.” she said breathlessly, handing me a large box of what I could now see were diapers. They weren’t real diapers, per se, but those bedwetting pants for kids that call themselves something else so they don’t wreck kids’ self-esteem. All things considered, Emory never really put up much of a fuss when it was time to get ready for bed, and I was grateful; any of the other ten-year-olds I babysat would have had a fit if I so much as mentioned any kind of protection.I looked back over at Emory who had bent down to pick up her bag. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing the waistband of her diaper.If she noticed, she didn’t seem to care.Besides, I thought it was kind of cute anyway. It certainly made my job easier, since she was so accepting of having to wear protection.“You can just put your things in the guest room, Emmy. You remember where it is, right?”Emmy grinned and took off up the stairs. “Yep.”I helped Emory’s mom bring in the rest of her things. By the time we’d finished Emory was back.William looked at his watch. “We should go.” he knelt down and opened his arms to Emmy.Emmy didn’t waste any time leaping into them. “Bye daddy. I love you! Have fun!”“I love you too, sweetheart. Be good for Mallory, okay?”Emmy nodded. “I will!” she said, and moved on to repeat the process with her mother.“Emergency numbers are on the fridge, same as always. We’ll be back in a few weeks.” Melanie lowered her voice and pulled me aside. “Just so you know, Emmy’s bedwetting has gotten worse. The boxes have diapers in them now, we were in a hurry when we packed, so I just threw everything together. There might be a few pull-ups left in there, but make sure she wears the diapers to bed.”I nodded. “Okay. Will do, thanks for the heads-up.”“We’ve had a few daytime incidents, too. It’s usually when she’s distracted, so please remind her to go potty.”I nod. I normally get this kind of thing from my younger kids’ parents, but with the money I was making, I wasn’t about to complain. Emmy wasn’t that much bigger than some of my six-year-olds, now that I thought about it...Melanie reached out to hug me. “We love you too, you know.” My face heated up. “Thanks. I love you guys too. Be safe, and happy anniversary.”Melanie smiled and followed her husband toward the door.Emory was too short to see out the window of the storm door, so I lifted her onto my hip so we could wave to her parents as they drove away.I could feel that her diaper was pretty wet, and I wondered why she hadn’t said anything.“Do I have to go to bed soon?” Emmy asked.“You know I’m not that lame. You can stay up for a bit, but first, you need a diaper change.”“But, I’m not even that wet!” Emmy protested. “I don’t know about that...Besides, you didn’t speak up and tell me you were wet, and I’m not having you get diaper rash on my watch, missy.” She was usually really well-behaved, but I knew from experience that she wasn’t above making a break for it if she thought she could get away with it. “Let’s go, munchkin.”Emmy pouted, and her big brown eyes almost made me reconsider. Almost.“Nice try, kiddo. But, that doesn’t work on me.” I headed up the stairs to the guest room and laid Emmy down on the guest bed. Her diaper was even more wet than I’d thought, I discovered, once I started changing her, and I didn’t think it would’ve taken much more before leaking.“‘Not that wet’, huh?” I wondered, tickling her a little so she knew I wasn’t upset.She squirmed and I let up before I ended up having to change the sheets on the bed too. “Sorry. Guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Emmy said, refusing to make eye contact with me.I brushed some long brown hair out of her eyes. I didn’t totally buy it, but it wasn’t worth making a big deal out of it. “It’s alright, I’m not mad. Try to remember to tell me when you need changing, okay? Otherwise I’m gonna have to start checking for myself.”“Okay,” Emmy said, sitting up once I’d finished. She scampered over to her suitcase and took out a footed sleeper. “I got new pajamas!” She said. “Can you help me with them?”I suspected that she didn’t really need help, but I didn’t have the heart to deny her if such a simple thing would make her happy. Internally, I knew that the pajamas would probably just get in the way if she woke up in the middle of the night and had to go to the bathroom, but she was in diapers anyway, so I wasn’t going to dwell on it.I’m such a pushover…She looked absolutely adorable in her pjs, which did nothing at all to hide her diapered state.“Feel like doing anything in particular?” I asked.“I wanna play Overwatch.” Emmy said. “I brought my PS4.”“Okay. Do you need help setting it up?”Emmy shook her head. “Nope. I can do it.”“Okay. Mind if I keep you company?Emmy smiled. “Sure! Can I have a snack?”“I think that can be arranged. How about some chips and pretzels?” I wasn’t in the mood to start fussing around in the kitchen, since it was so late, and I hoped that those would be enough.“That sounds good to me.” Emmy said. “I’m gonna go set my game up. You should play too; it’s fun.”I shrugged. “We’ll see,” I had enough trouble getting to sleep without overstimulating my brain. But, I hadn’t played video games in a while, and the offer was tempting.I went to scrounge for suitable snack food, while Emmy set up her game. She was faster than I expected she would be, and she was already getting started by the time I got to the living room, arms laden with plunder from the kitchen.“Get on the point, guys!” She snapped into her headset--it took me a minute to realize that she was talking to someone.“Relax.” I said, a little more sternly than I meant to. “It’s just a game.”Emmy sighed and folded her arms as the word ‘defeat’ flashed up on the screen in bright red letters. “Tough luck,” I said, and patted her back. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”Emmy angrily crunched into a pretzel and pouted. “Do you want to play? You don’t have to play in Competitive matches if you don’t want to. Those can get pretty intense.”“Why not? Think I’ll stick with the small fish though.” I said, and she passed me the controller.The controls were pretty straightforward, and although the other team wiped the floor with me several times--I don’t think I got a single kill--it was fun. It was easy to see how someone could get addicted to this kind of thing. It wasn’t my cup of tea, but if I had nothing else to do, it was a nice way to kill time.Emmy squirmed next to me. At first, I thought that she was just anxious to get back to the game. Then, when I heard the subtle crinkling of her pull-up, I realized that there was a much more obvious explanation.“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”“Nope, I’m alright.”I raised an eyebrow. “If you say so…” I passed her the controller. I focused most of my attention on the screen, but I was still watching Emmy out of my peripheral vision. I’d been babysitting enough to know that the ‘potty dance’ never really changes; kids just get better at hiding it as they get older. Another thing I learned was to trust my gut.And right now, my gut was telling me that everything about Emmy’s posture screamed: I really have to pee!“Okay,” I said as my latest foray into the gaming world ended with another stomping. “Time for a potty break.”“I don’t even have to go!” Emmy protested. She looked a little embarrassed.“You do so,” I countered. “You’ve been squirming non-stop for the past five minutes. Even if you don’t think you need to go, I want you to try anyway.”Emory huffed. “Fine.” She must have needed to go worse than she thought, because as soon as she stood up, she let out a little gasp and sprinted for the bathroom.I laughed a little to myself.Emmy came back and sat down on the couch.“Did you make it okay?”Emmy nodded.“Let’s check. Just to be sure.”“I don’t need you to check me,” Emmy whined.“Well, if you had told me you were wet earlier, I wouldn’t feel like I needed to. Besides, if you’re dry, I don’t have anything to worry about, right?”“Right,” Emmy didn’t look at me. I knew then what I was going to find, and I was a little annoyed that she lied, but I decided to give her another chance to come clean.“Is there something you wanna tell me?” I asked.Emmy shook her head.“Are you sure?”Emmy nodded.The silence was another giveaway, but even so, I went as slowly as possible as I unzipped her pjs. As I suspected, she was soaked.“Sweetheart,” I began gently. “What happened?”“I tried. I really did…” Emmy croaked, and burst into tears.“It’s okay, little one.” I said, pulling her close. “I’m not mad.”Privately, I was a little irritated. As much as I wanted to give Emmy the benefit of the doubt, all the evidence for this particular accident pointed to laziness rather than any physical problem.Still, Emmy’s mom had warned me that they’d been having some daytime issues, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair of me to hold Emmy completely responsible. But, I didn’t want to let her off the hook scot-free either…“It’s no big deal,” I told her. “Just try to pay more attention next time, okay?”“‘Kay. I’m sorry.” Emmy said quietly.I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay. I think it’s just about bedtime, though. Do you want to take a bath now, or do you normally take care of that in the morning?”Emmy shrugged.I sighed and lifted Emmy onto my hip when I stood up. “Well, since you don’t know, I think we’d be better off doing it now. A nice, warm bath might help you relax.”Emory didn’t say anything back. She just hummed and rested her head on my shoulder.I patted her bottom, more out of instinct than anything else. I hadn’t meant to call attention to the state of her pull-up, at least not more than I had already; but it couldn’t be helped. I ended up doing most of the work in the bathroom.Emmy just sort of zoned out and plonked herself down in the tub.“Emmy, you’re getting a rash.” I said. Maybe it was for the best that I was doing the scrubbing, since I might not have found out about it until it got much worse. “You need to tell me when you need changing.” I reminded her. I figured that it had already started before she came over, but I didn’t want it getting worse.Emmy just nibbled on her thumb.“I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you.” I said, since it was obvious that something was on her mind.“I don’t know...I just feel off.” Emmy said.“Do you think you’re getting sick?” I reached out to feel her forehead. She didn’t seem feverish.Emmy shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”“Hmm.” I was at a loss. I couldn’t do much if Emmy didn’t tell me what was wrong. “I think you’re just tired.” I pulled the plug on the drain and wrapped Emmy in a big, fluffy towel. I thought it was strange that she hadn’t offered even token resistance to me babying her since her accident.In truth, I’d been hoping for some kind of reaction, but at the same time, her being so docile was making my job easier.Emmy didn’t fight me when it was time to put her diaper on, and she was small enough that moving her around wasn’t too much of a chore.“Good night, Emmy.” I told her, once she was tucked in. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything.”“Night, Mallory.” Emmy answered. “Could you leave the door open a little?”“Sure thing, munchkin. Sweet dreams.”It only took me a few seconds to cross the room, but in the thin strip of light that washed over the bed, I could see that Emmy was already asleep. *.2.*To say it was a rude awakening might have been a little harsh. Still, little fingers poking into the space between my ribs was not on my ‘Top Five Ways to Wake Mallory Up’ list.“It’d better be at least eight-thirty.” I grumbled.“I’m hungry.” Emmy complained.“And you woke me up because…” Honestly, I didn’t really trust Emmy to operate the stove without supervision, but a bowl of cereal wasn’t that hard to make…“We don’ have any food. Well, ‘cept Raisin Bran.” Emmy made a face.“Alright, alright, I’m up.” I groaned and sat up. “Do you need a change before we go see if we can rustle up some grub?”Emmy shrugged. “I dunno,”I raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you do know, you just don’t want to tell me.”Emmy scuffed her foot against the carpet.I liked to think of myself as fair, and I didn’t think I was being unreasonable by expecting Emmy to tell me if she was wet.I picked her up and sat her on the bed beside me. “I’m so silly,” I said, in the most sickeningly sweet voice I could muster.I felt bad about being so deliberately patronizing just to get a rise out of her, but I wasn’t about to spend all day changing diapers just because Emmy was too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom.“I thought you were a big girl, but I should have known you were still little.”Emmy’s cheeks colored, but she didn’t say anything in response.I pulled off Emmy’s pajama bottoms. If she wanted the baby treatment, then I was going to give it to her in spades. She was about to get a lot more than she bargained for, especially if she just wanted to play videogames without having to get up to go potty.“And, little ones have to wear diapers, right? Otherwise they’ll just make a mess everywhere.” I paused. “Of course, they also can’t play video games, since staring at a screen for so long isn’t good for little eyes. And, definitely no phone, or computer; who knows what kind of trouble they’d get into?”Emmy frowned. “But…”“No ‘buts’.” I said. “If you can’t handle your responsibilities, then you lose the privileges that go with them. If making it to the potty on time is too much responsibility, then clearly it’d be crazy of me to trust that you can use your phone, or computer, or PS4 since making it to the potty is too hard.”It felt wrong, somehow, to play hardball with a ten-year-old, but if yesterday was anything to go by, I’d go crazy by the end of the first week if I didn’t establish some boundaries.“It was an accident! Honest!” Emmy looked like she was going to cry, and I felt awful.“I’m really not trying to be mean. And I don’t think you’re lying to me.”Emmy sniffled and tears ran down her cheeks.I felt like scum. I lifted her into my lap and wiped away her tears.“I’m not accusing you of anything, sweetie. I’m just saying that maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all if you’d been paying more attention. What do you think?”“Maybe…” Emmy conceded.“So today, we’re gonna try really hard to get to the potty, right? No accidents?”Emmy nodded, and I hugged her, glad to making progress.“Good girl. Now, let’s get you changed, and then we’ll see about breakfast.” I stood up and carried her back to her room.I went to lay some clothes out for her to wear, when I noticed something peculiar.“Emmy, where are all your big-girl panties? Didn’t you bring any?”Emmy shook her head, but didn’t elaborate. I frowned. I could understand forgetting a toothbrush, or a phone charger, but even for a ten-year-old, underwear didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would get lost in the shuffle. It’s a pretty essential piece of clothing.“Well, it looks like we’re going out for breakfast then. We need to go to the store to get you some big-girl underwear. Sound good?”Emmy grinned. “Yeah!”I smiled at her as I held out the fresh pull-up for her to step into. “Remember, these are for just-in-case, okay?”Emmy’s determined facial expression was pretty much the cutest thing ever, but I didn’t want to laugh for fear of hurting her feelings. I helped her dress, since she’d seemed content to just sit around in her pajama top and pull-up. She latched on to me as I stood up after I’d finished.Emmy was getting a little old to be carried around, but as long as she was making progress on the toilet front, I was willing to make a few concessions. She really wasn’t that heavy anyway.“See? I told you we didn’t have anything to eat!” Emmy said after I’d scoured the kitchen, only to come up with Raisin Bran, some stale bread, and some ketchup.“You were right, munchkin.” I told her. I put her down so I could start jotting down our grocery list on the nearby notepad. “It looks like we have a busy day ahead of us. I’m going to go upstairs to shower and get ready to go. I want you to look at this grocery list and see if there’s anything you want to add to it for us to get at the store. Not too, much candy, though, okay?”“Okay,” Emmy said glumly.I fiddled with the oven for a moment while I figured out how to set the timer. I set it for twenty minutes and turned back to Emmy. “When the timer beeps, I want you to go sit on the potty. Brush your teeth while you’re in there, too.”“Aye, aye, cap’n.” Emmy grinned.“Good. I’ll be right back. I’m hungry too, so I shouldn’t be too long.” I planned on being ready in fifteen minutes, that way I could make sure Emmy actually went to the bathroom when she was supposed to. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her, it was just that…Who am I kidding? I really don’t trust her, not right now, at least.I wanted to be able to trust Emmy, heaven knew I wasn’t looking forward to putting a ten-year-old through potty-training boot camp. But, we weren’t off to a great start, and I’d only have myself to blame if I didn’t put the effort in now, and we ran into more problems later.Still, I had more time alone with my thoughts than I really needed while I was in the shower. Even though I had to be quick, the warm water relaxed me enough that I felt like I could deal with the day ahead and not end up with a crippling tension headache.I managed to get dressed, brush my teeth, and make myself generally presentable with three minutes to spare.Emmy was lounging in front of the TV, watching cartoons, and given that the timer on the oven hadn’t gone off, I felt pretty safe in assuming that she hadn’tbeen to the bathroom yet. And, since her pull-up was showing, I couldn’t resist taking a peek for myself to see if she was still dry.“Hey!” Emmy was indignant and she turned around to glare at me.“I was just checking…” I put my hands up.Emmy pouted. “I’m not a baby.” she said.“Good job staying dry,” I said, stuffing down an urge to list all the evidence to the contrary. Then the oven timer beeped. I shooed Emmy toward the bathroom. “Go on, then. Off with you.”Emmy harrumph-ed, but she got up and headed for the bathroom.I switched the TV to the news for the few minutes she was gone, so I could keep up with current events.Emmy looked a little put-out when she got back, but she plopped down next to me on the sofa anyway.“Did you make it?” I asked.“Yes.” Emmy replied testily, folding her arms.“Let me see,” I said.“How come you have to check? Don’t you believe me?”“No.” I told her honestly. “You lied to me about being wet yesterday, so I want to see for myself. I want to be able to trust you, but that’s something you have to earn.”Emmy glared at me and refused to move.I picked her up and laid her over my knees. I’d had permission from her parents to spank her since I’d first babysat her years ago, and I knew that Emmy was aware of that. I didn’t intend on doing it then, but I was starting to get tired of her bratty attitude. Maybe being in this position would help remind her who was in charge.I pulled her pants down and patted her butt firmly. She was definitely dry, since all the designs were still there, and I was glad for that at least.Emmy gasped.“All dry. Good job.” I said, pulling her pants back up before sitting her on my lap facing me. “Told you,” Emmy muttered.“Emory Rose,” I used her middle name so she knew I meant business. “That’s enough of your lip. I know you don’t like me checking on you all the time, and when you’ve earned my trust, I’ll back off. Until then, little girl, you’re just going to have to live with it.”Emmy continued to glare at me, balling her little hands into fists.“For someone who tells me she’s not a baby, you’re not acting very much like a big girl.”“Because you’re treating me like a baby!” Emmy shouted. She tried to clock me with her fist, but I was ready for it.“Emory Rose McKale, you stop that this instant!” I took a breath to calm myself. “It’s okay to be angry, but it is absolutely not okay to hit. I didn’t think I needed to tell you that at this age.” I put her down, glad that she was small enough for my arms’ length to put her out of hitting/kicking range.“Go stand in the corner until I come back. I need to go and pack some spare diapers for you before we go.”Emmy stomped over to the corner.I sighed and went upstairs to get Emmy’s supplies. I was only gone for five minutes or so, but Emmy was a mess when I came back.She’d obviously been crying.“Okay, little one. Timeout is over.” Emmy turned around, eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down her face.My heart nearly cracked in two.“You understand why I had to put you in timeout, right?”“Yeth.” Emmy lisped. “‘Cause I throwed a fit and I hitted you. I’m sorry.“Right.” I said. “But we’re not gonna do that anymore, right?”Emmy shook her head. “Huh-uh.”“Good,” I said. I knelt down and opened my arms to her.Emmy bolted from the corner and into my arms, squeezing me with an impressive amount of strength for someone her size. She pressed her face into my shoulder.“I’m sorry!” Emmy gasped. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad.”I patted her back. “It’s okay. It’s all over now, okay? Fresh start from here on out. I forgive you.”Emmy shuddered and hiccuped. “I think…” she hiccuped again. “I think I wet my pants…”I scooped her up. “That’s okay. Thank you for telling me, Emmy. I know it wasn’t easy to tell me.”Emmy just rested her head on my shoulder. I was pretty sure she was getting snot all over my shirt, but I didn’t have it in me to be bothered by that at the moment. I patted Emmy’s bottom, and realized that she’d either lied to me about going to the bathroom earlier, or she’d been a lot more worked up than I’d realized, because she was leaking.“Uh-oh. I think we’ve sprung a leak.” I bounced Emmy a little, hoping for a giggle, but she was quiet.I sat her down on her bed while I got the changing supplies ready.“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am a baby…” Emmy said quietly.“Come on now,” I said. “That’s not true.”“But it is. I just threw a fit and got so worked up that I peed my pants. That doesn’t sound like something a big girl would do…”“Don’t get yourself down.” I said. “Accidents happen.”“To babies.” Emmy added forlornly. “Maybe I should just wear a diaper instead.” I frowned. I couldn’t tell if she was hinting at something she wanted, or if she was still beating herself up about earlier. Either way, putting her back in diapers would only make things worse. She wouldn’t even try to make it to the bathroom then, I’d have wagered. Not to mention, her self-esteem would end up taking a huge hit.“I don’t think so.” I said. “You’ve been dry up until now. Don’t give up, sweetheart. I know you can stay dry. We’re even going to get you some big-girl panties at the store, remember?”I winced internally. That sounded a lot more demoralizing when I replayed it in my head.“And, maybe we can go to Chuck E. Cheese after all the errands are done. Does that sound like fun?”Emmy cracked a little smile. “I guess…”“You guess?” I tickled her until she squirmed, hoping to lift her spirits a little. Emmy laughed and tried to roll away from me, flailing and wriggling away from my fingers, until she finally froze. “Oops.” she said.I realized she must’ve wet again, and I wondered how such a tiny person could hold so much liquid. “That was my fault.” I said. “Sorry, babe.”I did my best to make quick work out of changing Emmy into a dry pull-up and clean pants, only to realize that I should probably have packed a change of clothes for her too. I threw a new outfit into the Dora the Explorer backpack I was using as Emmy’s diaper bag, double-checking to make sure I’d put the rash cream in there too.“Alright kiddo, let’s hit the road.” I said, holding out my hand for her to take.Emmy made grabby hands at me instead.“You’re lucky you’re cute, you lazy butt. You’re totally capable of walking. I feel so used.”Emmy grinned. “I love you!” she pressed a sticky kiss to my cheek.“I love you too, munchkin.” #####(3.)“I think that’s everything,” I said, giving our shopping cart a once-over. “Emmy, did we miss anything?”Emmy just stared into space, as she sat in the cart, her eyes slowly glazing over.I snapped my fingers in front of her face and she flinched spectacularly. I narrowly avoided being kicked as she flailed around.“Are you okay?” I wondered, though from the look on her face, I had a pretty good idea of what she’d been up to.Emmy nodded. “Yep.” she paused to look at the grocery list. “We still need oatmeal and cereal and…” she frowned. “What’s Desitin?”“Diaper rash cream.” I explained. I turned into the next aisle, which just so happened to contain all the baby supplies. “You’re running low.” I reached out and lifted her out of the seat. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time for a potty break once we’re done here.”“Umm…” Emmy began sheepishly. “I kinda already went.”I forced myself to take a breath and count to ten. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier? The bathrooms are right there.” I could literally see them from where we were standing.“I didn’t need to go then.” Emmy replied, as if that explained everything. “Are you mad?”“Of course I’m mad!” I snapped, a little more harshly than I meant to. “You’re ten years old, I shouldn’t have to constantly remind you to go to the bathroom. This is your third accident today and it’s not even lunchtime yet.”Emory’s bottom lip trembled as she stared at me. “I’m trying.” she replied.“I don’t think you’re trying as hard as you could be. Even if you don’t feel like you need to go, you should try as often as you can if you really want to stay dry.”“You don’t understand,” Emmy spat, and turned away from me. Her dark brown hair fell between us like a curtain.“You’re right,” I continued more calmly, after I’d mentally counted to ten again. “I don’t. What’s wrong, Emmy? Why are you doing this?”“I…” Emmy sniffled. “I can’t.”“You can’t what, sweetheart?” I knelt down to brush some hair out of her face. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”Emmy didn’t say anything, she just cried. They weren’t crocodile tears either, these were deep, gut-wrenching sobs. I was worried she’d make herself sick, and I didn’t want to make things worse by bombarding her with questions.I was totally out of my depth…“It’s alright, little one.” I said softly, scooping her up. “I’ve got you.”Emmy squeezed me hard enough to make it difficult to breathe, her small body shaking with the force of her sobs.I tried rocking her a little as I wheeled the cart over to the restrooms and took her diaper bag out of it.The family restroom wasn’t occupied thankfully, and I took her in there, hoping that the privacy would help calm her down. Her cries echoed off the wall, loud and oppressive in the small spaceI sat down on the toilet seat and reached under her shirt to rub her back. It was a trick I’d learned while babysitting kids much younger than Emmy, it helped to calm them down. I hoped my hands weren’t too cold…“It’s okay,” I said again. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”“Potty,” Emmy said quietly.I tried putting her down, but she just whimpered and held on tighter.“Do you need to go now? Or are you telling me that that’s what you were upset about?” I knew she was more than old enough to be ‘taking care of business’ so to speak, without needing any help from me--in theory at least--but I still felt proud that she’d taken the initiative to tell me before she had an accident. I was proud of her for that, now if we could just work on actually going in the toilet, maybe we could make some real progress.Emmy nodded.It wasn’t exactly a helpful answer, but it was better than nothing.“Okay...I need you to use your words, sweetheart. Think you can be a big girl and tell me what’s bothering you?”Emmy sucked in a shaky breath and went to wipe her nose on her shirt sleeve.Yuck.I grabbed some toilet paper off the roll and held it up to her nose. “Blow.”Emmy did, and we both chuckled at the foghorn-like noise her nose made.I used some more tissue to mop her face up a little. “All better?”“All better.” Emmy sing-songed back to me, and nodded firmly. She blinked and wrung the hem of her shirt before saying anything else. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?” she almost whispered.“Pinky swear,” I said, extending my littlest finger to her.Emmy relaxed a little at that, but she didn’t let go of my hand. “You know how some people have a split personality?”I swallowed hard. Oh, god… “Yeah…”“Well, um...it’s sort of like that. But like, not. I don’t know.”Another non-answer. “Okay…” It was like pulling teeth, getting this kid to talk. I realized that she was probably just embarrassed, but I wished she would just spit it out before I had a stroke from high blood-pressure and anxiety.“I just. I don’t always feel like a big kid.” I blinked. “Huh?”“Nevermind, it’s stupid.”“No, no, no, it’s not.” I said quickly, hoping to stop her from clamming up again.Emmy blushed. “You know how in commercials for Pull-Ups, they always say ‘I’m a Big Kid Now’ at the end?” she stared at her lap.“Sure,” I was pretty sure it had been at least twelve or thirteen years since I’d have watched any TV channels where that would’ve been a frequently-aired ad.“It’s like that.” Emmy said. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her so red. She squrimed.“What do you mean?” I thought about it for a moment, trying to connect all the dots. The whole point of those commercials was to encourage kids to use the toilet and be a…Oh.Oh.“So you don’t feel like a ‘Big Kid’ huh?” Emmy shook her head and nibbled on her thumb. “Sometimes I wish I was younger.” Emmy confessed.I got the feeling that she meant for that to be some kind of big reveal, but I didn’t see what was so strange about it. I was no stranger to curling up with some ice-cream, or Oreos and milk, or some other nostalgia-inducing snack and watching cartoons on Netflix when I was feeling blue.I wished I was younger sometimes too. Holding down a job and paying bills wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time, even if it felt good to be independent.I was sure Emmy felt the same way about school. I’d been out of school for long enough that I felt old whenever someone asked me when I graduated, but I remembered enough of it to realize that for someone with less life experience, it could be pretty overwhelming sometimes.“Me too,” I said thoughtfully, and Emmy’s face lit up.“Really?”“Sure, I mean, who doesn’t wish they had less responsibility sometimes…”Emmy looked at me sideways. “I don’t think you’re getting it.” she said.“I’m trying,” I said. “Am I missing something?”“I mean, I want to be little.” she said, with the same tone that suggested I should be having a lightbulb moment. I could tell she was getting frustrated, but she’d been dodging the question this whole time, like she was ashamed of the answer, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she was trying to tell me.“You kind of are,” I said gently.Emmy palmed her forehead. “No! Not like short, little. I mean ‘Little’ little.” she made air-quotes around ‘little.’Someone’s been spending too much time on the internet… I thought. I could tell by her tone of voice that she thought what she was talking about was a thing, but I didn’t know what niche group she was trying to lead me to. “Little, like a kid.” I said.“Yes!”“Which you are.” I added.Emmy growled in frustration. She looked close to tears again. “No! I knew you wouldn’t understand!” She scrubbed at her eyes, and tears dripped into her lap.Crap.“Emmy, baby, I’m not trying to make fun of you, I promise. It’s just that you’re not giving me a whole lot to work with. I know that you know what you’re trying to say, but I’m having trouble getting to the same page.”Emmy didn’t answer. Not verbally, at least. She just sort of grunted and leaned against me. No way...I was about to ask her what was going on, more to see if she’d cop to it than anything, when I felt it. There was a sudden, mushy warmth against my leg along with a smell that I was intimately familiar with, though I’d never in a million years have expected Emmy to do such a thing.Judging by her relieved sigh, Emmy wasn’t bothered in the least by the mess in her pants. She wiggled on my lap and smiled at me.I on the other hand, just kind of sat there in shock. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, but my brain was having a serious ‘does-not-compute' crisis. At this point, I’d thought I’d lost my capacity to be surprised by Emmy’s accidents, but I’d never have expected this, especially not on purpose. I wanted to scold her--I was not looking forward to cleaning up a ten-year-old’s poopy diaper, one that was undoubtedly going to be a royal pain since pull-ups have never been designed to hold that kind of an accident.However, she’d finally calmed down, and discussing her potty habits had brought on her meltdown in the first place. That wasn’t an experience I was eager to repeat; I hated seeing her so upset…I wasn’t sure that there was anything to be gained by reminding her for the umpteenth time that she was supposed to go to the potty, it hadn’t worked so far, and I was getting tired of repeating myself.Even though I’d never expected to have to go through the process with a ten-year-old, I’d sat for plenty of kids who were ‘in-progress’ with their potty-training, and I knew that sometimes, it was better for all parties involved to take a step back and try again another day.In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t think one day would make all that much of a difference. It’s not really my problem anyway, I thought, and immediately felt guilty. I felt like I was giving up, and I’d never been a quitter. At least not before now.Win some, Lose some.I don’t know what possessed me to check her pants like I would for a toddler, especially since it was obvious what had happened, but I chalked it up to habit.“Well,” I said, finally finding my voice again. “Looks like someone really had to go potty.”Emmy looked entirely too pleased with herself for my liking, but I figured today’s potty-training plans were a lost cause at this point. Maybe we’d have better luck tomorrow.I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to cowboy-up for the task ahead. “This potty-training thing isn’t working out very well, is it?” I muttered.“I poo-poo.” Emmy said proudly.I tickled her under the arms. I knew I was babying her, but she didn’t seem to mind, and I was at my wit’s end. I just wanted to get through the day without any more massive crying fits, and if I had to change diapers to do that, then I would.“I know, you little stinker.” I said over Emmy’s riotous giggling. I set her down on the floor, and went to unfold the changing table from the wall. I’d have bet money that Emmy would fit up there, and even if she didn’t I’d make it work. “And now I have to change your stinky butt.”Emmy laughed grinned like the cat that ate the canary.There was no way I was going to lay her down on the floor of a nasty public restroom.I reached into the diaper bag and took out all the stuff I would need. I’d stashed one of her diapers in there along with the change of clothes. I’d meant for it to be a ‘break glass in case of emergency’ kind of thing, but considering that Emmy had just soiled herself on my lap of all places, and that she didn’t seem all that upset about it, I knew I’d just be kidding myself if I put her in another pull-up.Not to mention, I’d be making a lot more work for myself if she had another “accident” (If you could call them that). I didn’t want to go down that road, but I had to consider all the possibilities.Emmy toddled over to me, and I found myself wishing desperately for some air freshener, or some matches at the very least.“Alright you.” I said. “Hold still, and let’s get this over with.”The smell was bad enough that I fought back a gag once I’d gotten to work, and I was glad that I packed a change of clothes for Emmy, because her pants were beyond saving. Into the garbage they went, along with the pull-up and wipes. Once all the dirty work was done, I put her up on the changing table to finish putting on her diaper.Emmy sighed once I’d finished fastening it and she looked happier than I’d seen her in a long time. She was also sucking her thumb, a habit that I’d nearly gone nuts over trying to break her of it the first it time. But, I was slowly learning to pick and choose my battles with her.I finished putting on Emmy’s pants and lifted her down. “There we go. All fresh and clean. Do you feel better now?”Emmy nodded. “Uh-huh.” She rocked back on her heels before taking her thumb out of her mouth.“See?” she said, like she was explaining something to a particularly dense person. “Little.”I looked her up and down. She looked every bit the toddler now, mostly because I’d packed sweatpants which didn’t exactly hide the fact that she was diapered, something she’d advertise for sure if she bent over. I wasn’t worried about anyone saying anything since she was small enough already to pass for a lot younger than she actually was…And that’s when the lightbulb went on.Oh.My head spun. I had a million questions, and I was more than a little frustrated with Emmy for not saying that this was what she wanted in the first place; I could have done without the clean-up I’d just had.Even with all I wanted to say, as I stood there like an idiot, not speaking or doing anything, the only intelligible thing that came out of my mouth was:“Huh. Well, how about that.”Way to go, brain. (4.)“Okay,” I said breathlessly, after having caught up with Emmy again. “Back into the cart you go.”I felt bad about leaving the poor store employee to clean up the warzone in the cereal aisle all by himself, especially since it was Emmy’s fault, but when she took off running, I knew I had to catch up to her before she made a mess of something else.Emmy was certainly committed to, well, whatever it was she was playing at. She’d been suffering from some strange compulsion to touch everything since we’d left the restroom. From the amount of discretionary funds her parents had left for us to use, I could gather that they were pretty well-off, but I didn’t think they’d appreciate an astronomically high grocery bill because I’d failed to keep Emmy in line.“But, I wanna walk!” Emmy whined, folding her arms and pouting. “We tried that, munchkin.” I said. “And, since you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, I think it’s best that you ride in the cart until we’re finished.”“I don’t want to ride in the cart!” Emmy very nearly shouted.I could feel the heat rising on my cheeks; every eye in a ten-yard radius had to be on us, I just knew it. “That’s enough.” I hissed. “I was going to buy you a candy bar if you behaved, but I think it might be closer to naptime than I thought, and I don’t want to try and put you down for a nap with a sugar buzz.”Emmy looked offended. “I don’t need to take a nap, I’m way too big.” Emmy protested, and she looked rather pleased with herself.It took all the self-control I had not to burst into laughter. “Well, I’m in charge, and I say you’re not. Besides, the poopy diaper I had to change a few minutes ago tells me you’re not nearly as big as you think you are. When you start using the potty, then we’ll discuss skipping naps.”Emmy huffed, but didn’t say anything else.We got into line at the registers, and she looked longingly over at the candy bars and then up at me.“No,” I said. “Please?” Emmy gave me the most ridiculously hopeful expression I’d ever seen.“No.” I said again. “I told you you could have one if you behaved. And you haven’t been doing very well.”“You’re mean.” Emmy decided, and glared at me.I almost laughed again. I realized that she was upset, but I don’t think she recognized how adorable her facial expressions were, even if she was angry.“I’m sorry you feel that way.” I said. Emmy reached into the cart and grabbed the package of bottles we’d picked up, before the Cap’n Crunch Debacle, and tossed them out onto the floor. She stuck her tongue out at me.I felt a burst of anger warm my chest. I loved Emmy to bits, but after having to chase her around the store like a madwoman, I was not in the mood to deal with another tantrum. I bent down to pick the bottles back up.“If you don’t want them, we can go and put them back, but you know better than to throw things.”Emmy put down the pacifiers, which had no doubt been about to go flying, and picked up the bag of frozen broccoli florets instead. She let fly the vegetables, but I was fast enough to catch them before they ended up on the floor too.“Emory Rose, do we need to go to the bathroom and have a little chat?”Emory froze and sucked in a breath, her hands moving to protect as much of her backside as she could manage while sitting. She shook her head.“I hope not,” I said. “No more throwing things, little one. I mean it.”“I be good.” Emmy replied. “Promise.”I frowned. “Why don’t I believe you?” Emmy responded with a positively angelic smile.I caved and kissed her forehead. “Be good.” I reminded her. We managed to get through the rest of the line without further incident, and I was grateful--I didn’t think my frazzled nerves could take much more, and the tension headache I’d been hoping to avoid was already beginning to pulse between my temples.Maybe Emmy wasn’t the only one who needed a nap…***I had just finished putting the groceries away when my phone chimed.Emory’s parents had texted me to let me know that they’d arrived safely and were checking in to their hotel.I responded with a smiley face and told them to have a good time, before I was interrupted by my stomach demanding food.I threw together some spaghetti, since I was too lazy to do any really involved cooking, and sat down to eat it in front of the TV.Despite her protests that she was ‘too big’ to need a nap, Emmy had gone down without too much trouble, so I had some time to myself.My phone rang, and I just barely managed to avoid upending my spaghetti onto the carpet.“Hello?” “Hello, Mallory, it’s Melanie. I was just calling to see how things have been going. Emmy hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has she?”“Nope, she’s been an angel.” I said. It wasn’t strictly true, but I’d dealt with worse. Besides, all things considered, Emmy was doing pretty well.Melanie lowered her voice. “How has she been doing with her accidents? Is she making it to the potty?”“She’s doing okay,” I said as noncommittally as I could.Melanie sighed. “I’ve had half a mind to take her to the doctor, and make sure it’s nothing serious.”It was my turn to sigh then. It didn’t seem fair to let Emmy’s parents worry themselves while they were on their second honeymoon…“I wouldn’t worry about that. I think she’s just going through a phase.” I said. I paused, trying to figure out the best way to put her parents concerns to rest without completely giving Emmy away. “Between you and me, I think she likes the attention that comes with having to wear...protection.”“I see. Well, just in case something comes up, there are some documents in the filing cabinet that authorize you to take Emmy to the doctor, or, god forbid, the hospital if she needs it.”“Good to know. Thank you.” I said.“Well, I’m glad to hear things are going well. I’ve got to run, William’s taking me out to dinner and a show tonight.”“Alright, have a nice time,” I replied and then she hung up. I set my phone aside and vegged out in front of the tube.I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Emmy was lying on top of me, and it was rather difficult to breathe.“Well, hello there.” I said. “Did you have a nice nap?”Emmy nodded. “Uh-huh,” I could understand what she’d said, but her voice was distorted. It was only when she turned to face me that I realized she was sucking on one of her new pacifiers.It was cute sight to behold for sure, but I thought maybe I’d gone a little overboard in indulging her. Personally, I thought her behavior was strange, but harmless. However, I didn’t want her to develop a dependency on her pacifier, or her bottle, or her diapers, because she’d be in for a rude awakening when school started up again.Emmy wriggled closer to me and rested her head on my chest. I felt a little less like I was suffocating since she moved, but her obviously wet diaper was pressed against my thigh.Yuck.I waited a beat to see if she’d say anything about it, though I didn’t know why I was bothering at that point; she seemed perfectly content to sit in a wet diaper.I patted her butt. “You need a diaper change, kiddo.” I said.Emmy just hummed in response.I realized that she wasn’t going to get up on her own, so I sat up and shifted her onto my lap. “Do you still want to go to Chuck E. Cheese?” I asked.Anxiety curdled in my gut as soon as I’d finished asking my question. I wasn’t sure her behavior at the grocery store warranted a trip to Chuck E. Cheese, but I’d promised her we would go, and I didn’t want to let her down.It seemed obvious the more I thought about it, that we were going to need some boundaries or rules for when she was like this. If the grocery store was any indication, I would be in over my head faster than I could blink if I didn’t put my foot down.“Yeah!” Emmy perked up immediately.“Okay. We need to talk first though. I don’t mind you being…’little’ while we’re out, but I think it’s best if we set down some rules first. That way you don’t get into trouble later.”“Alright,” Emmy sounded like I’d just asked her to go spring clean her room.“First, I want you either stay where I can see you, or hold my hand while we’re out. I don’t want you wandering off and getting lost. Second, if you need to use the potty, or you need to get changed, I want you to come and get me before you go. That way, if you need help, I’ll be right there.”“I don’t like the potty. It’s scary.” Emmy said solemnly.I sighed. Emmy was entirely too comfortable in this mindset for my taste, but I knew there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it at the moment. Maybe she just needed to get it out of her system and she’d be back to normal tomorrow.“Well, then you definitely need to come get me. If you’re too little to use the potty by yourself, then there’s no reason for you to be in the bathroom by yourself.” Emmy nodded. “Okay,”“And third, you need to listen to me.” I said, looking her in the eye. I’d perfected my babysitter stare over the years, and I knew Emmy wasn’t immune to it. “It’s my job to keep you safe, and take care of you while your parents are away. I want you to have fun, but when I say it’s time to go, I don’t want any arguments, understand?”Emmy nodded again, and then mumbled something I couldn’t understand.I reached out and gently took the pacifier out of her mouth. “Let’s try that again, cutie.”“What happens if I break a rule?” Emmy wondered.I got the feeling that she wanted to know so she could see what she could get away with, and I knew that tipping my hand would be disastrous.“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.” I told her sternly. “I know you can be a good girl when you want to. I don’t want to have to send you to bed with a sore bottom tonight, but if you test me, I will. I understand that you might forget, and that’s okay, but I do expect you try your best to behave, alright?” Emmy nodded, and my lap warmed.“Did you just…”Emmy giggled.As far as I could tell, she hadn’t leaked, but I’d still have preferred that she hadn’t peed on me. I tickled her ribs. “Okay, little one, let’s go change your diaper, and then we’ll get ready to go, okay?” I carried her to her bedroom and got to work changing her. I was almost done when she spoke up again.“Can I wear a Pull-Up?” Emmy asked. “I don’t want anyone to see my diaper.”I didn’t see the difference between the two, honestly. “No.” I said. I felt bad about be so quick to shut her down, but I refused to put myself at her mercy by letting her flip-flop between ages because she was bored.“But,” Emmy began.I lifted her legs and slid the new diaper under her bottom. “I don’t want to hear it, Emmy. You haven’t even tried to make it to the toilet today, and you pooped your pants at the grocery store. Pull-ups aren’t made to handle messes, and I want you to be protected in case you have an accident, okay?” I hoped I could use this as a teachable moment, to show her that choices have consequences. Besides, the fact that she was willing to mess her pants at all told me I’d be a fool to trust her to come get me when she needed the toilet, especially if she was having fun.“I’m not gonna have that kind of accident.” Emmy sounded offended.It seemed like a tacit admission that her ‘accident’ at the grocery store was no accident at all, but I didn’t bother to call her on it.“I’m not doing this to be mean to you,” I explained. “I just want you to be able to have fun and not worry, okay. If you still want to try using the toilet tomorrow morning, we’ll try again, okay? But, going back and forth isn’t healthy, little one. I don’t mind if you have days where you need to be little, but you have to stick with your decision.”Emmy sighed, but didn’t argue further.I knew she wasn’t happy, but maybe this would motivate her to actually use the toilet. Emmy made no move to pick out her clothes once I’d finished, so I picked out some pink overalls for her to wear. They looked cute, and they’d keep her diaper from showing, so I thought they were a good pick.“Put these on, please.” I said, and turned to put a spare outfit in her diaper bag. Can’t be too careful.Emmy hadn’t bothered to dress herself, I discovered once I’d turned around, but it didn’t seem worth it to hassle her over such a small thing.“There,” I finished putting her hair into pigtails as the finishing touch. “Cute as a button. Are you ready to go?” Emmy lifted her arms in response. “Yep! Can we have a pepperoni pizza?”I smiled. “I think that can be arranged.” (5.)I wouldn’t call it a pleasant surprise, because the place still smelled like an old gym sock, a block of three-day old mozzarella, and some cheap tomato sauce had an orgy, but Chuck E. Cheese wasn’t nearly as crowded as I imagined it would be.“Wow…” Emmy breathed, looking around in unabashed amazement.It occurred to me then that Emmy probably hadn’t been here very often, judging by her reaction.“Pretty cool, huh?” I said, gazing at the menu and token pricing options.Ouch.Even though Emmy’s parents had left us plenty of money to use for stuff like this, and one trip to Chuck E. Cheese would hardly put a dent in our finances Istill thought the prices were outrageous.Emmy’s eyes lit up as she saw the maze of play equipment, but I managed to snag her by the strap of her overalls before she bolted.“Stay here, please.” I said. “You can go play in a minute, but first we need to pay and get a table.”Emmy ignored me and continued to pull against me; I scooped her up before the rivet on her overalls gave way.I gave her a firm swat on the bottom. I knew it wouldn’t hurt because of her diaper, but I wanted her to know I wasn’t kidding around.“Or, maybe you can start off by sitting with me in timeout for five minutes until you can control yourself. Hmm?”Emmy pouted, but she stopped squirming for the most part.Once we’d gotten a table, I put Emmy down, but I didn’t let go of her hand.“Okay, little one.” I said. “Remember, you need to stay where I can see you.” I said. “If you want to go play the games on the other side, come and get me first,” I said.“I will.” Emmy replied seriously. “Can I go play in the tubes?”I nodded and set the timer on my watch for fifteen minutes. “That’s fine. When this beeps, I want you to come back to the table, okay? The pizza will be here soon.”I tried strapping the watch to Emmy’s wrist, but even as tight as it would go, a good jostling would knock it loose. One trip to the ball pit, and I’d never see it again. So, I strapped it to Emmy’s ankle instead.Emmy grinned. “Cool! I always wanted an anklet, but Mommy says I’m too young to worry about jewelry.” she chewed her lip uncertainly.I kissed her forehead. “This will be our little secret, okay? Do you think you can remember how to get back to the table or do you want to try a dry run with me first?”Emmy frowned and reached toward her diaper, but stopped short when she realized what she’d been about to do. Her cheeks colored.I chuckled. “Do you need a change before you go to play, kiddo?”Emmy shook her head. “I’m good.” she told me.I wasn’t convinced. “I think we’d better check to make sure, babe. We don’t want any leaks.”Emmy was cooperative, holding still long enough for me to check her.I couldn’t do much other than feel without undressing her, something I couldn’t do unless we were in the bathroom. I’d gotten pretty good telling by feel how wet a diaper was, and although she was a little wet, I knew she’d be okay until we ate.“Yep. You’ll be okay for a little while. Go on and play, munchkin. I’ll be right here if you need me.”Emmy gave me a quick, tight hug, and was off like a shot for the play equipment.I laughed and shook my head. That kid was something else…My phone buzzed.Mom: [ How are things going? Hope Emmy is behaving for you! <3]Me: [All good here! I’m so sorry for all the times you had to bring me to Chuck E. Cheese as a kid. ^_^;]Mom: [Aw, I bet Emmy’s having lots of fun! Anyway, wanted to check up on you and make sure you were okay. We’re just a phone call away in case there’s an emergency.]Me: [Thanks! Love you!]Mom: [Love you too!]I kept an eye on Emmy as best I could, which wasn’t all that difficult since the only time I couldn’t see her was when she crawled into the tubes to go down the slide.Emmy kept looking back to make sure I hadn’t moved.It was cute, and I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I waved, so she would know that I saw her, and she scampered off to play some more.Or, that is, she tried to.She froze, lifting her foot up to turn off the alarm, I guessed. Unfortunately, her balance wasn’t as good as she thought, and she wobbled for a moment before falling down hard on her butt.I could see Emmy’s bottom lip quivering, and even though I was certain that she was fine, I went over to check on her anyway.She was crying when I got to her, not full-on sobbing, but she was clearly upset. Probably just startled, I figured, there was no way she’d fallen hard enough to get hurt.“You’re okay,” I said, rubbing her back after I picked her up.“No, I’m not.” Emmy said through tears. “My butt is broked.” I chuckled. “I don’t think your butt’s broken,” I said. “It’s probably just bruised. We’ll check it out when we change your diaper after we eat.” I kissed her forehead and rubbed her bottom a little. I was happy to see that she didn’t wince, so it couldn’t be that painful. “Did you have fun?” Emmy nodded. “The slide is really fast! And they have a ball pit, and a little car that makes noise…”I smiled to myself as Emmy continued to ramble about all the things she’d seen in the play area. I wasn’t about to pretend that I understood why she was acting this way, but I had to admit that she was adorable.The pizza was on the table when we got back. I took a moment to cut a slice into bite-sized pieces for Emmy, but she didn’t seem interested in getting off of my lap.“Can you be a big girl and feed yourself? Or do you need help?”Emmy blushed and nibbled on her thumb, staring at her lap. “You,” she said quietly.I’d been expecting that, so I shifted her on my lap so I could see what I was doing. I made sure to blow on the pieces before feeding them to her, I’d have felt awful if she’d burned her tongue. I alternated between taking bites of my own pizza and feeding her; personally, I thought it tasted like cardboard, but Emmy didn’t seem to mind.“I’m full,” Emmy said, turning away from her next bite.“Three more bites, little one.” I said. “You won’t have any energy to play if you don’t eat,”Emmy pouted, but didn’t argue. She’d managed to smear the sauce all around her mouth, so I took a second to wipe her face with a baby wipe before heading to the bathroom to change her diaper.We headed over to the games after taking care of business in the restroom. I was sure that Emmy would do well at some of the simpler ones if she applied herself, but she stayed true to her younger mindset, and she seemed content to just be silly instead of trying to win prizes. We’d just finished our third game of Skee-Ball when a little boy ran past, and I wrinkled my nose at the odor in his wake. At least, I hoped it was him… I knelt down to whisper in Emmy’s ear. “Sweetheart, did you have an accident?”Emmy flushed. “No!” She rubbed her eyes and tried to hide a yawn from me.I checked my watch--it was already nine o’ clock, and I wanted her in bed by ten at the latest. Summer vacation or not, I knew it would be better for both of us if I could start establishing a consistent bedtime.“I think we should check,” I told her. “Just to be sure. You’ve been playing pretty hard, and you’re just little, so you might not know for sure.”Emmy looked like she wanted to protest, but she held her tongue, and even though she was giving me a spectacular pout, I was proud of her for trying to be respectful.I reached down to feel her diaper, and I was relieved to find that she was clean.“All clean,” I said. “Good job,”“I told you: it wasn’t me!” Emmy whined, and stomped her foot. Her voice was somewhere between embarrassed and angry, and while I hadn’t been trying to embarrass her, I couldn’t bring myself to feel all that bad about it.“Watch your tone, little one.” I said. “I heard what you said. You’ve told me a lot of things, and not all of them have been truthful. If you’re going to be little, then it’s my responsibility to make sure you have clean pants. I don’t want you to get a rash.”Emmy had tears rolling down her cheeks, and I realized then that the poor thing was probably exhausted. Little or not, I wasn’t holding out for her to actually speak up and tell me that she was tired.I scooped her up, patting her bottom gently, hoping to soothe her. “You are so sleepy, honey. I think it might be time to think about heading home.”“But, I’s havi’ fun…” Emmy protested, slurring her words a little as she she rested her head on my shoulder.“I know baby, but we can come back another time.” I rocked her a little as I walked back to the table to get our stuff. “Right now, it’s time to go home and go to bed, so you can have even more fun tomorrow. We can come back another day.” ?Emmy cried a little harder. “I don’t wanna go home,”“Shh,” I said, rubbing her back. “I know it’s lots of fun here, baby. But it’s dark outside now, and that means it’s time for a bath, and then bed. We’ll come back another time.”Emmy just pressed her face against my neck.It was a bit of a struggle to put everything back in the car while I was holding Emmy, but I managed. She was halfway to dreamland when I strapped her into her carseat. “Thanks for bringing me, Miss Ma’y. I had lots’a fun.”I kissed her temple. “You’re welcome, babe. Thank you for being so good tonight. I’m proud of you.”Emmy was out cold by the time I started the engine. (6.)It was the sound of crying that woke me up, not the vigorous shaking that made my teeth click together.The pain of that was what brought me to full alertness, and dimly, I hoped I hadn’t chipped a tooth. I felt around for the switch to my bedside lamp.The room was awash in bright yellow light that made both of us wince; once my eyes adjusted, I could see the tears streaming down Emmy’s face.“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, and reached out to pull her onto the bed with me. She settled into my lap without any prompting, and she clung to me with a desperate kind of strength. “What happened?”I could feel that she was wet, but I’d expected that much, and I didn’t think that was what had her so upset.“I...I had a bad dream.” Emmy choked out, and buried her face in my chest, smearing snot and tears onto my shirt.I rubbed her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”“My parents...they died in a plane crash. What if...what if they don’t come home?” Emmy wondered, and then she started crying even harder.“It’s okay, little one,” I said. “They called before we left to go get dinner. They’re fine. They’re safe. It’s actually daytime where they are, so we can try to call them if you want.”Emmy sniffled. “Really?”I nodded. “Sure.” I handed her my phone after dialing the number they’d given me.Emmy held the phone up to her ear, trembling against me. “Mommy?” She said in a quiet, tremulous voice.I could hear Emmy’s mom responding to her, but the volume was too low for me to make out what they were saying. I settled for rocking Emmy a little and patting her bottom, hoping to soothe her.“Yeah...I’m okay. I miss you. I just had a bad dream and was worried.” Emmy said quietly. I reached over to pull her thumb away from her mouth. Emmy relaxed against me. “Good. I’m glad you’re having fun...I love you too. Goodnight.” Emmy handed me my phone.“Thanks.” she said.“No problem.” I kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you dry, and then we’ll try sleeping again.”Emmy’s little fist tightened in the fabric of my shirt. “I…” she took a breath and pressed her face into my chest. “I don’t want to be by myself.”“It’s alright,” I said, more by reflex than anything else. “You can stay here tonight. We just need to change your diaper first, okay?”Emmy just nodded.Poor kid… I knew that calling her mom must have helped at least a little; I could literally feel that she had relaxed some. But, I knew she was still anxious, and I didn’t blame her. Her parents had been on some weekend trips before, but this was the longest she’d been apart from them.Emmy missed her mom.It seemed like such a simple thing, but I knew, to her, it was different. She still needed someone to chase away the nightmares, to hug her when she was sad, and hold her when she was scared.I must’ve seemed like a poor substitute for the real thing in her parents’ absence, but I was going to do my best to make sure that she felt safe with me. I held her a little tighter and shifted her to my hip when I stood up.“Don’t worry little one, I’ve got you.”*.*.*.*.*The bed was empty when I woke up the next morning.I could hear Emmy puttering around in the kitchen downstairs, and I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t noticed her getting up. I forced myself out of my warm, comfortable bed, and headed toward the kitchen. If our trip to the grocery store had taught me anything, it was that there was no telling what kind of mischief Emmy would get up to if left unsupervised.I smelled smoke as I got closer and I started to panic, at least until I saw the black rectangles protruding from the toaster.Poor Wonderbread never had a chance.The next thing that caught my attention was Emmy attempting to operate the stove. The smell of gas hung faintly in the kitchen, but Emmy didn’t seem to understand the danger. My heart leapt into my throat.“Emmy, don’t!” I shouted, but she didn’t seem to hear me.She reached for knob to light it, and lunged for her, pulling her away from the stove as flames shot up from the hob.Emmy screamed and latched onto me.Nothing was on fire, and the stove was functioning normally, so that was a plus.I held Emmy at arm’s length, checking her over for injuries. She was crying, but I didn’t see any marks or blood, so I hoped that she was just scared and not hurt.“Are you okay?” I tried not to sound like I was panicking, but I couldn’t tell if it worked.Emmy nodded, sucking in a breath. “I think so.”“Are you sure?” I asked, trying to calm my own frantically racing heart.”“Uh-huh.”Heat blossomed in my chest. Now that I knew she wasn’t injured, I was furious. She was lucky I’d walked in when I did, otherwise we might be on our way to the hospital. I couldn’t believe her; I didn’t think her parents would’ve let her operate the stove without supervision, something that seemed even clearer given what had just happened…I took a breath and forced myself to chill for a mental ten-count.And then, I rounded on her.“What on Earth were you thinking?” I snapped, harsher than I meant to.Emmy flinched away from me, tears welling in her eyes again.I felt a pang of guilt that I’d scared her, but maybe that was a good thing. “I...I don’t know.”“Do your parents let you use the stove by yourself?” I demanded. I knew I needed to calm down, but I was seeing red, and my frustration with Emmy’s behavior had been steadily mounting since she’d arrived. As guilty as I felt about it, I couldn’t deny the truth: I needed an outlet.“Well, no, but-”“But nothing!” I interrupted. “If it’s against the rules when your mom and dad are home, why in the world would you think it’s okay when they’re not here?”Emmy reddened, her fists clenching by her sides. She took a step forward, her hands coming up like she wanted to shove me. “I was trying to be nice!” She yelled.I was a hairsbreadth away from taking her over my knee, but I knew that spanking her would be irresponsible while I was so upset. I ground my teeth. “Corner. Now.” I said evenly, though I was still seething.“So what? Now I’m getting punished for trying to do something nice?” Emmy stomped her foot. “You’re so unfair!”“I’m sorry you feel that way. Now, are you going to go to the corner by yourself, or do I need to take you?”Emmy folded her arms and stared me down.“Emory, last chance. You’re already getting five swats for using the stove, and if I have to take you, it’ll be with a sore bottom on top of those, I promise you that.”Emmy turned on her heel. “Butthead…” she muttered, and I gave her a hard swat on the backside.“Boy, somebody really wants a spanking.” I said. “I’ll be back in five minutes, and if you can explain yourself like a big girl, instead of calling me names, and throwing a fit, maybe I’ll reconsider your punishment.”Emmy ignored me, and I took the opportunity to go sit on the sofa and cool off.I took a couple deep breaths and rubbed my temples.She’s just a kid. I told myself. I had no clue what had gotten into Emmy lately, normally she was so well-behaved…I understood that she was anxious and stressed out because her parents were away, but that didn’t give her license to act out the way she had. I spent the next few minutes trying to massage away my headache, with no success, and then went to get Emmy from the corner.I could tell she’d been crying, but she looked more angry than remorseful. I put my hands on my hips.“What do you have to say for yourself?” I asked, as calmly as I could.Emmy took a breath. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make you breakfast. You’ve been so nice to me since I got here, I wanted to do something nice for you, too.” Well.I felt like a jerk...I blew out a long sigh, and knelt down. Emmy was more or less eye-level with me now. “Thank you, munchkin. That was very nice of you. I understand what you were trying to do, but it isn’t safe for you to use the stove by yourself yet. Today could have been much worse if I hadn’t walked in when I did.”“I know…” Emmy’s voice broke.“Hey,” I said, gripping her chin so she’d look at me. I felt bad about snapping at her, now that I knew what she’d been up to, but I didn’t necessarily regret doing it. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to yell at you, I was just scared that you’d get hurt. What do you say to making breakfast together this time? I’ll help you with the stove.”“I’m not in trouble?” Emmy wondered.I shook my head. “I think we can let you off with a warning this time. But, if you ever do anything like that again, your little butt is mine, got it?”Emmy nodded vigorously.“Good. Next time, you’re not sure about something, just ask, okay? I won’t bite, I promise.”Emmy threw her arms around my neck and squeezed. I hugged her back, and patted her bottom, realizing only then that she’d been in a wet diaper this whole time.“Okay cutie, let’s go change that diaper, and then we’ll have breakfast.”“But, I wanna help!” Emmy whined.“I know, and you can. It’ll be a lot more fun with dry pants, trust me. Besides, if you’re gonna be touching food and then eating it, you should be clean anyway.”“Alright,” I could tell Emmy wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t argue any further. I scooped her up and headed up to her room.“So,” I began as I laid her down on the bed. “Is today going to be a Big day, or a Little day?”Emory chewed her bottom lip. “I...I don’t know.”“You don’t know?” I wondered. I reached for one of her pull-ups. “Do you think you can be big enough to manage the potty today?”Emmy just shrugged.I knew at that point that it was pretty much a lost cause, but I had to at least try. I didn’t want to make more work for myself by just allowing her not to bother with the toilet if I could help it.“I think you can do it.” I told her. “I’ll even remind you to go. Let’s see if we can make it through today without any accidents, okay?” Honestly, I didn’t think it was going to happen. But, I knew she wouldn’t even bother trying without some encouragement, and if by chance, she made it through the day dry, well, maybe there was hope for her potty training after all.“Okay,” Emmy replies, and smiled at me.“Good girl.” I slid the pull-up on for her and pulled her to a sitting position. “What do you want to wear today?”“This is fine.” Emmy said. She was just in her pajama top and pull-up, but I didn’t have any plans to go out today, so I wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. Besides, it’d be easier to see if--when-- she had an accident this way.“Alright,” I clapped my hands and tried my best to sound enthusiastic. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go get started on breakfast.” (7.)“Okay, babe. Potty break.” I reached over to lift Emmy off the stool where she was mixing the pancake batter.Her pull-up squished under my hand.I sighed. “Did you…” I didn’t bother to finish. “Nevermind. Go sit on the potty while I finish up here.”“But, I don’t needa go...oh.” Emmy blushed.“Yeah. Go and make sure you’re empty, and then bring me a clean pull-up and wipes from your room, okay? We’ve got to be quick so we don’t burn the pancakes.”“Okay!” Emmy flashed me a grin and flounced away; whatever momentary shame she’d felt at realizing that she was wet didn’t seem to be sticking. I sighed. We were barely twenty minutes into the day, and there’d already been an accident.I moved my expectations down a couple notches and went to get some paper from the desk in the study room--the pancakes would be okay for a minute or two. I labeled the paper ‘Emmy’s Potty Chart’ and put it up on the fridge.Maybe if she could see her progress (or lack thereof) Emmy would get motivated.I allowed myself a sardonic chuckle at the thought. Sure, and then pigs will fly…I felt a little bad; really, I should have put more faith in her, but my expectations had been pretty much stomped on at every turn, so I wasn’t going to hold my breath. Part of me thought it would be easier to put her in diapers and pull the plug on this whole potty-training business…At the same time, I was also fairly certain that that was exactly what she was after, and I didn’t want her to think that manipulating people to get her way was okay.“I got it!” Emmy said, startling me out of my thoughts. She dropped the new pull-up and wipes on the floor just outside of the kitchen.“That was quick,” I said, checking on the pancakes to make sure they didn’t need flipped. “Did you wash your hands?”“Uh…”“Go wash your hands.” I turned around, and realized, as I stared after her, that Emmy was naked from the waist down. I hoped she didn’t make a mess on the floor; I was really not in the mood to clean the carpets.Emmy came back, hands still wet, and grinned at me. “All done.” I cleaned her up a little with the wipes, taking note of the redness on her bottom and around her diaper area. “Emmy,” I said, as gently as I could. “I know it’s embarrassing to come get me if you have an accident, but I really need you to do it, okay? You’re starting to get a rash from being wet for such a long time between changes, and it’s not going to be fun for either of us if it gets worse.”Emmy nodded. “Okay.”“I mean it, Emmy. Otherwise, I’m going to have to start checking for myself, alright?”“I understand. I’ll tell you if I’m wet, don’t worry.”I was already worried, but I didn’t have the heart to shoot her down right off the bat. I held out the new pull-up for her to step into.“There, all dry again. Let’s try to keep it that way, okay squirt?”Emmy gave me an entirely unconvincing thumbs-up. Her stomach grumbled loudly at that moment. “Alright, Time to eat, munchkin.”“Yay!”Once I’d plated the pancakes, Emmy wasted no time in drowning hers in syrup and tucking into them with gusto.I didn’t bother trying to get her to eat like a normal person, since I knew she was going to get messy either way.By some miracle I managed to finish first, and I was thus able to grab her before she could run off and get her sticky, syrup-covered mitts all over everything. I wet a cloth at the sink and set to cleaning her face and hands with it.“Mallory, do you really have to--bleh,” Emmy paused when she got a mouthful of cloth. She pulled a face, shook her head, and then continued. “I can do this myself.”“I know you can.” I said. “But if you planned on doing it yourself, I wouldn’t be doing it for you, now would I?” Emmy just pouted in response.I kissed her forehead. “There. You’re all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”“I guess not…”“Go potty one more time, and then you can go play.”“But, I just went.” Emmy complained.“Try anyway. Even if you don’t feel like you need to go.”Emmy sighed. “Fine,”I gave her a swat on the butt as she stomped past me. “And watch your attitude, missy. Keep that up and you’ll be in timeout.”Emmy didn’t respond, but she did stop stomping around, so I counted that as a small victory.With Emmy out of my hair for the moment, I set about cleaning up the kitchen. While I appreciated Emmy’s enthusiasm, her ‘helping’ hadn’t done much other than make a mess. I’d just finished scouring the countertops so they were free of the drying, sticky pancake batter, when I heard Emmy start her videogames in the background.Her little trip to the bathroom couldn’t have been for more than two minutes maximum, so I questioned whether or not she’d actually gone…Against my better judgment, I decided to let her be. It was only so I could finish cleaning; or at least, that’s what I told myself. But, in all honesty, I was exhausted, and I really just needed a break. It took me about fifteen minutes to finish up, and that was exactly fifteen minutes too late.Emmy slammed into me just as I peeked into the living room to check on her.I was fine, but Emmy went sprawling to the floor and burst into tears.I didn’t see any blood, and I hadn’t heard any strange noises, but Emmy’d smacked into me pretty hard, so I knew she must be sore at the very least. I scooped her up off the floor and patted her bottom. She was wet, and so was the carpet, since she’d leaked, but that wasn’t really a surprise, since I assumed that’s why she’d been running in the first place.“Shh.” I said gently. “You’re okay,”“Ow,” Emmy whimpered pathetically. “I’m sorry. I tried…”“I know you did, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you coming, or I would have moved.” I knew that if she hadn’t waited until the last possible second to get up to go to the bathroom, this whole incident probably could have been avoided. However, I also knew that to mention it now would just make the whole situation worse.I sighed. Two accidents in less than forty-five minutes…Maybe it’s time to go see the doctor. I shifted Emmy onto my hip and headed toward the stairs. I knew I was being a huge quitter, but I was at my wit’s end. If Emmy couldn’t even make it an hour without peeing herself, then there was really no point in her wearing pull-ups. The whole point of them was so that the child go to the toilet without needing help to undress. So far, that had only happened maybe three times since I’d been here.“Emmy...I think it might be time to think about going to the doctor.”Emmy stiffened. “What? Why? Do I need to get shots?” she bit her lip.“No, nothing like that. It’s just that, well, you’ve been having a lot of accidents lately, and I think it might be a good idea to get you checked out and make sure you’re not sick.”“I don’t feel sick…” Emmy replied.“That’s good. But, I don’t mean like the flu, or having a cold. Unless you’re telling me you’ve just been too lazy to go potty this whole time, we should go and make sure your bladder is healthy.”Emmy reddened, but didn’t say anything for a bit. “Okay…”I laid her down on the bed and took out a diaper instead of a pull-up.“I thought you said I was supposed to be big today…” Emmy sounded confused.“I know that’s what we talked about this morning, but…” I paused, trying to think of a way to explain the situation to her without hurting her feelings.Because I’m exhausted...Because I’m pretty sure you are just being lazy...Because I don’t have time to constantly remind you to go to the bathroom and keep after all the housework, which technically you should be helping with…“ I think this is the best option for both of us right now.”“But, Mallory,” Emmy almost whispered. “I’m not a baby.”Could have fooled me.I bit my tongue. “I know, kiddo. It’s just until we get things figured out. I’ll try to see if there are any appointments this afternoon, or tomorrow. Until then, this is the way things are gonna go.” I said as I powdered her and fastened the diaper on snugly.“But, I don’t want to wear it.” Emmy said.“I’m sorry Emmy, but it’s not up for discussion. I gave you plenty of chances to show me that you could handle going to the potty on your own, and things didn’t go so well. So now, we’re going to do it my way.”Emmy folded her arms.“Unless there’s something you want to tell me?” I prompted, hoping for a confession.Emmy shook her head. “Okay then. No taking it off, Emmy, I mean it. I think I’ve cleaned up enough messes today. I’ll be checking on you to see if you need a change, but if I’m not around, just come and get me.”“Okay…”“I’ll be taking your phone for the rest of today, and tomorrow. And no video games either. This isn’t a free pass to do whatever you please without having to get up to go potty.”“But, that’s not fair!” Emmy protested. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair that I have to clean up after you all day either. You’re telling me that you’re not sick, and you’re big enough to sit in front of the TV and play videogames for hours, but when it comes to getting to the potty on time, suddenly, that’s too hard? Something’s not adding up here, Emory, and until we get to the bottom of this, you’re just going to have to live with it.”“This is stupid.”“I think so, too. I don’t want to take privileges from you, Emory. I want to be able to have fun with you, but it’s my job to keep you safe and healthy until your parents come home. And, if that means I have to take away fun stuff to keep you that way, then I’m sorry, but that’s how it’s going to be. If you can show me that you can handle getting to the potty on time without me nagging you about it, you can earn your privileges back.”Emmy scowled at me. “How’m I s’posed to do that when I’m wearing a diaper?”“We’re not going to worry about that right now. Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll start fresh from there, alright?”Emmy was crying. I knew she was upset, but I knew I had to put my foot down at some point, or I was going to go nuts. I couldn’t afford to back down now, even though it killed me to see her so upset.“I know you’re upset, babe, but I promise I’m not doing this to be mean to you. I wouldn’t do that. Tell you what: why don’t we go and sit together on the couch for a bit and watch some TV, hmm?” I sat down next to her, and pulled her into my lap.“I don’t want to watch TV.” Emmy replied stonily.“Okay. Why don’t you lay back down for a little? I’m going to tidy up a little, and try to make you a doctor’s appointment for this afternoon. Maybe we can go to the park afterwards, how about that?”“Okay.” Emmy said and crawled under the covers.It was barely past ten in the morning, but I didn’t feel bad about putting her down for a nap. Maybe that would help her attitude…“I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.” I said.Emmy just rolled over and ignored me.
  20. Hi this will be different to most stories here I think and I would like to emphasize that there will be no "daddy" role here I will try to keep it as "realistic" as possible with the hope that people like this do exist out there . Wetting diapers etc will be plenty humiliation and abuse however only in flashbacks hope you will like it ps sorry for the bad English Court house ND Sunday 4:30 pm fall Chris Reynolds sat on a bench looking at the kid questioned by the judge . "My god " - he thought - "how did this ever happen. 2 months ago someone would have told me I have a kid running around I would have laughed . But this is insane. This can't even be happening ." He was mad. At whom he wasn't sure . Himself ? He should have made sure that 1 time before he enlisted with his childhood sweetheart didn't lead to anything . But really what guy keeps track of what happened to a girl he dated when he was 17? His fathers family ? Well all they ever did was lie. So he found out when he turned 18 and his long dead mother showed up at his boot camp. Patricia ? She could have bothered to tell him she was pregnant with his child ! Sure she was only 16 and probably under the influence of his family . The thoughts raced through his mind but something in the sadness of the brown eyes of that child wouldn't let go of him . He can't be a father, he never wanted to be one. He had his carrier succeful actor. Hollywood loved him . This could easily ruin him. His lawyer , also one of his closest friends told him that the minute the paternity test came back positive . But still something in him just couldn't sit there and watch. He knew if he wouldn't do something he will never live with himself . " I m sorry your honor , but maybe I have a better solution " - he stood up looking at the woman in the cape who looked rather annoyed than happy he disrupted her sentencing . "What the hell are you doing ?! Are you crazy sit the hell down " - Theo wishpered angrily , his loyal lawyer who sat quietly by his side tried to pull him back down to the bench but he wouldn't budge . "Yes Mr Reynolds ? What solution is that you claim to have for us " the woman's voice was rather strained but Chris was not the type to break a sweat over a woman's annoyance , no matter her status. " with all the respect he is barely 13 even detention centers require the minimum age of 14 . I m not saying he didn't commit crimes he should be punished for . But he is just a child . And all of this is more the systems fault and mine than his . " "So you are blaming the system for the fact that a 13 year old stole money disrupted someone's home and ..." "no your honor I m not just blaming the system I m also blaming myself but with all due the respect calling the police on a child looking for his mother is hardly disrupting a property " " so you are a lawyer as well now mister Reynolds as you seem so familiar with the laws " " no your honor I m not all I m saying simply is that I don't find the current solution of sending a child to a severe detention center because the system is over loaded . And that sentence is one that I m sure the appeal we will file won't agree with it " "appeal ? What are you talking about ? You can't threaten a judge you are out of your mind !" - Theo jumped to his feet "alright I will allow that however like I said I have no alternative " - the judge sighed though looked as if she rather sentence him too to prison " I think you will find there is. Release him to my custody " silence fell upon the court room . The judge studied the man standing before her . Determined for sure . Theo looked as if he couldn't believe what Chris just said . The kid turned his tear stricken face towards the man he for a few weeks now known is his biological father . "Release him to your custody ?" - the judge repeated as if retarically " my parental rights have never been revoked nor have I ever given them up. The social services did a complete background check I m sure it's in the files" the judge turned some papers infront of her unwillingly and had to agree . There was no reason the man couldn't get at least temporary custody over the child . And she had to agree releasing a child to the custody of a parent would seem much less harsh than back to detention where by law he would only be sent to under special Circumstances under which no empty beds in children's home not exactly fell under. "Your honor , this child is not a simple case " - Katherine the social worker spoke up in clear dislike " he can not just be released into a hands of a man who never had a child before and has absolutely no qualification to deal with a child with these behavioral problems " "I m sorry so my lack of parental experience should be compensated by locking him up in a closed facility where you send teenagers who murdered people ?" "Alright alright that's enough ! " the judge spoke up " I want order in my court room . God what a mess this is ! Alright alright let it be . I will allow a probation period . But if he gets into anymore trouble with the law it is straight detention ! " " I find that very reasonable your honor . Thank you " Chris smiled at the judge as he sat back down next to Theo who buried his head in his hands. " well I don't find this reasonable at all ! - Kathrine spoke up angrily -" he has been moved through 2 homes and 3 foster families and a detention center ! How exactly do you think you could control him ?! "- then with a smirk she added - " have you even changed a diaper in your life mr Reynolds ? Because in case you haven't noticed that is 1 more thing your son can not control " Chris felt his temper rise as he saw his sons face turning from pale to beet red. It wasn't hard to tell he was indeed wearing" protection" . But clearly announcing that out loud made him increadbly uncomfortable . " I will assure you ms Jenkins I have handled a lot worse serving in a war." Chris said in a measured voice "that is enough ! I m releasing Christian Patrick West to your custody . I want social services to reevaluate this arrangengment in a month I m sure you can handle that ms Jenkins with your superiors . Well good luck . Court adjourned ! " "do you have any idea what you have just done ?! "- Theo asked in an angry whisper. "This could ruin your entire carrier !" "Shut up Theo for real " Chris wishpered back as he made his way towards Katherine and his son . There was something about those brown eyes he couldn't quite make out . He seen it before overseas , fear . The child was clearly scared . Katrine looked clearly angry. She didn't seem to like him since the moment he wanted to get visitation rights. "Alright well I m all ears please do tell me how to proceed . " Chris said though politely but his glance which caught hers was rather self assured . Christian or Tee as every1 called him stood next to them rather uncomfortable . Uncomfortable for several reasons . He was going to have to go and stay with a man he didn't really know but his size and strength predicted nothing good from his experience . Secondly he had to stand by and listen to his social worker go into embarrassing details of his problems. 1 of which he was experiencing on his own skin . The cloth diapers he was wearing were soaked by now uncomfortably cold too as they clung to his skin . Chris stood and pretended to patiently listen to the seemingly endless list of behavioral problems out of which bed wetting lying shoplifting were only a few to mention but hard to really believe when looking down at the child infront of him . He hasn't entered the rapid have of puberty yet based on his height . He seemed much more like a child than a teenager. " Alright then Wednesday after school we will be at the family sevices center" Chris sealed the conversation smiling . Katherine shook his hand unwillingly . " let's go then" - Chris turned to Tee laying 1 hand over his shoulder strearing him out of the court house towards the parking lot . As he touched him he felt him quivering . Tee was surprised by the tone. Chris's voice was pleasant as if this would be normal . No one used that tone with him. Not without that strange gleam in the eyes before the belt hit him or something even worse. But when he glanced up quickly Chris's eyes looked though a bit warn out but no sign of malice. Car ride Sunday later Tee was hunched up on the back seat Chris occasionally glanced back and the feeling of a new unknown pain hit him every time he did . What could have that kid been put through to be desperate enough to steal and set out on his own to find his mother . How heartless can a mother be to call the cops on her own child ? Did he really misjudge characters so badly ? For a moment he got worried . He was sure Patricia was his first real love but now it seemed evident she never loved him if she had how could she treat his child like that . But if he was so wrong judging her and his fathers family for so long could he possibly be wrong about Tee? Maybe the reports are correct and he only seems lost hurt and innocent ? - so now what is the plan ? - Theo asked rather cynically starring straight ahead from the passenger seat and though he didn't look at him Chris felt his anger Chris glanced to the backseat and though saw no reaction from Tee but he was sure he was listening to every word . - well getting late so I guess we could pretty much call it a night - Theo snorted in anger but Chris wouldn't let that interrupt him - I guess pizza will do for dinner ? - no one seemed to answer so he went on - alright then pizza it is . But first I think we will have to make a stop as the car stopped the sign medical supply store seemed to twinkle in bright yellow like the starts in the sky . For a minute none of them moved . Chris and Theo exchanged glances . Theos seemed to say well this was your brilliant idea then go figure it out . Chris took a deep breath before slowly turning to the back seat - I don't suppose you know what size you ... Need Tee didn't look up just shook his head in defeat . He knew what was coming next . He lived through the humiliation of "supply" shopping with his previous families . Though it was done by the women he didn't think the next 10 minutes to even over an hour would be any less humiliating than it was then . Especially since now he was a teenager rather than a child . Chris held on the strearing wheel trying to plan his next move . Diapers weren't exactly his thing . Won't be the first time he had to change one, he was a loving uncle willing to babysit occasionally but even with his twin nieces he never dealt with something larger than an infant . But based on Katherine's description changing diapers will be his task . He had to admit he wasn't quite sure of the reason . The age itself would have qualified for self diapering . Or that just wasn't a thing ? He will definetly have some googling to do ... He shot one glance to the backseat - alright I will be back . Tee didn't move. Didn't even unbuckle his seatbelt as if trying to put off the inevitable. He heard the radio channel being changed but no opening of the backseat door . He looked up puzzled . Chris was not in the car or near the car . He must have gone into the shop . The sign was clear he was sure he was even in this particular one before more than once even . Yes the first time was 2 years ago . When his last foster family took him . He clearly remembered the sign it was shining bright yellow even though it was bright daylight . He took a sharp breath as the memories washed over him . Maybe that was the moment he started to realize that family won't love him for real either . He remembered the condicending smirk look of the sales lady Jane or Janine was her name ? He remembered begging Martha his foster mother not to make him go . He promised he would work harder not to wet the bed. But she said his 1 week was up , he lived with them for a full week now and he couldn't keep his bed dry . - get out of the car ! I don't have time for your whining ! I told you 1 week I even gave you an extra night you are making me regret not giving you the belt this morning ! - Martha made no effort to keep her voice down in the parking lot . He got out of the car not daring to anger her more . His foster father Terry's belt marks were still prominent on his body from a couple of mornings ago . He knew he best avoid any extra punishment he still couldn't lean back in the car from the last belting . The sales lady was smirking the moment they entered as if she knew or sensed before she was told , Martha had no intentions of being discrete about the purpose of their visit . - what can I help you with ? - well my foster son - it hurt him even then to hear the emphasis that he wasn't her real son - can't seem to keep his bed dry , they warned me about that at the home but I was too naive to listen . Well too late now. So we will be needing diapers . And cheap ones . I m not spending a penny more than I ought to ! - very well ma'am follow me I can show you what options we have of course each was worse than the other and the deliberation took what seemed to him as forever till Martha settled for clothes ones since those could be reused . - and making him wash them will teach him a good lesson about how much work they are - the sales woman put in - what a brilliant idea - Martha agreed delighted - now you will of course need plastic pants to go with it to keep the bed dry . These are quite reasonable priced . What color would you like ? - she held up a pink ruffled 1 up teasingly but Martha's choice was just as humiliating - how about that yellow one ? Pee color isn't it ? - she added laughing and just when he thought things couldn't get any worse ... - do you know how to use them ? - actually with my children I used disposables but that was years ago . They are properly potty trained - Martha gave him a stern look - I will be more than happy to show you if you like. Does he have any daytime accidents too ? - well so far only twice but who knows - in that case perfect ! Keep him in diapers until he learns to keep them dry ! Here follow me and I will show you how to put them on he felt his cheeks go hot red just remembering a complete stranger stripping him and demonstrating how to put on his new diapers . It felt like it was real at that moment though he knew he was 11 then but he was sure that having Chris change his diapers won't be more pleasant . He got somewhat stronger in the past 2 years but he was no match to Chris . Even if he didn't use his belt . his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the trunk being slammed he realized that Chris has returned to the car . What items he purchased ? He couldn't tell but he was sure it won't take long for him to see first hand . - whats with all the bags ? Did you empty the whole store ? - Theo asked but Chris just rolled his eyes and started up the car
  21. introduce myself

    Hi Im Dlonly, I would like to introduce my self. I'm in my early 30's and have been a DL since I was probably around 8-9 years old although I didn't realise it at the time. I'm from Canada live in a small town by a major city. That's as much as I wll say on that lol. Where most people say they were born this way, I can say I remember exactly how it started for me. Even though I was most likely born with these feelings it all started as I had cousins were bedwetters, i was not. One night on a sleepover my cousin was embassered at the fact he had to wear diapers to bed. my aunt asked me if it would be ok if I did as well so he didnt feel alone. She would never of forced me too. But at the time I didnt think it was a big deal so I agreed. I loved them lol. After that I wore everytime I slept over untill I was a teen then stopped. I embraced the feellings in my 20's but in High school and College i tried to bury them and not think about it but its something that all of us can relate to doesnt go away. I have told one GF, and several friends. I explain the story exactly the same and everytime I have had postive responses. Anyways thats me. Just wanted to say Hi and will try to contriube to the forums
  22. Dan was a average 16 year old teenager but he never did good at school. He stayed out past curfew and he'd been bought home by the police twice already. It was gone 1am and he sneaked in, hoping everyone was asleep. He had a little brother who he didn't really spend time with. He tried to avoid babysitting duties if he could. He knew that was too good to last...
  23. Anna was a single parent. She loved her children and wouldn't change them for anything. She had three children of her own. She'd organised a trip to Disneyland but they had to get to the airport to catch their flight. She'd also invited her two nephews to join them as her sister was going on a business trip. She woke up at 5am and headed down to make coffee
  24. As the tech problem appears to have lost this story completely I have reposted the first four chapters in one go. I shall hopefully be adding more as we go along but I suppose we need to make sure this is all working again. I've missed keeping up with all the fab stories and looking for old ones that are quite brilliant. ############################################ My 18th Birthday “Stoopid, stoopid, stoooooopid,” I was so angry with myself for letting it happen. I was rapping my knuckles on my forehead, shouting and scowling at myself because I just couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. I know I’m not the brightest person in the world but I should have caught on sooner and I wouldn’t be in the mess, literally, that I was now… sitting in. With a thick diaper stuck to my body, I disliked immensely the way the poop engulfed everything and made me feel both dirty and queasy. It didn’t help that I was being chastised for being “A dirty little baby” and made to feel that was all that I would ever achieve. Banging my head wasn’t helping as it hurt. I sat shaking in my pile of poo unable to do much else and began, as I so often did these past few days, to cry. No doubt I looked the picture of abject misery but, this is what the people had wanted and they were getting just that from my current display. * My name is Benjamin or Ben, never Benjy as I’ve always thought that sounded so childish. My parents are both quite high achievers in their respective fields; mom being an art historian and dad being a Biotech company CEO. My older sister, Gwyneth had her first book published when she was sixteen, her second did quite well and her third, Smart Moves, had recently been optioned for a movie. I on the other hand am basically just that, basic. I have no conspicuous talent. I cannot play sports very well (although I’m always game for a … game) and my academic achievements had me constantly in the bottom half-dozen or so. It wasn’t that I didn’t try, Hell; I never stopped trying as I had a great deal to live up to but I just wasn’t clever enough. Simply put, compared to the rest of my family I am DUMB, not gifted in anyway but, on the plus side, I would try anything if I could. Whereas the rest of my family have terrific jobs I’m stacking produce at our local superstore. It’s boring and doesn’t pay well; a group of Mexicans, East Europeans and me all work for minimum pay just so we have a job to our name. It probably is about the only thing I can do without mucking up but I’d like something better. But hey, look around you – do you see loads of bosses desperate to give high paying jobs away to the likes of me? You get what you’re given and like it… or at least don’t complain about it. I’ve heard being described by my parents as ‘over-emotional’ (although it’s always said as a whisper and as if I wasn’t even in the room). Obviously it is a somewhat dismissive term but I’m not sure I know why being ‘over-emotional’ is a bad thing. OK, I admit that I can cry at seeing kittens and puppies playing (in fact any baby creatures immediately win my heart) but it’s out of joy. I know I’ve been known to cry at some awful news story where people have been hurt or killed and I also seem to identify with the images of the starving across the world and yes, I am emotional and get upset about any form of violence. For a guy my age I watch very little TV because I find it too violent and the same with computer games. My friends, those few I have, think I’m weird and a bit of a ‘softie’ (although I’m sure they say much worse). OK. So I’m still living at home with Mom and Dad, when they are here, otherwise I’m shipped off to my clever author sister while they are away on business, vacation or whatever as they don’t trust me not to wreck or set fire the house if I’m left to my own devices. Chance would be a fine thing. * It was approaching my 18th Birthday and I was looking forward to some kind of celebration as all my other (few) friends had huge parties when they had reached this magical age. Alas, both my parents would be away on business for a month and my sister wasn’t interested in giving me a party. I suggested we go out for a meal, or something, but she’d just had some bad news herself and was in no mood for any kind of celebration. Gwyneth had just found out that her boyfriend of three years had recently sired a baby with another girl, whilst my sister had just lost her own. Her house was no place for merriment and I was happy to spend as much time as I could stacking shelves and collecting trolleys just so I wasn’t around her too much. However, one late night I saw her looking through an album of old photographs. She was smiling at a page that had some rather cute pictures of me. The one she was particularly happy about was of me, I must have been barely one year-old, sleeping and cuddling my teddy bear (Teddy), whilst wearing only a particularly thick and well-pinned diaper. My blue pacifier seemed to cover half my face but I looked so happy and contented hugging Teddy tightly. According to Gwyneth, I was always a happy, chirpy little baby, always smiling and rocking in my diaper or crawling around on some expedition that ended with me back where I started. * Eventually, as we settled together on the sofa she asked, with an air of sadness, regret and nostalgia, what it was that I missed most about my childhood. I shrugged and looked at the album, the page still open at me and my teddy bear. “That.” I said emphatically. “I miss having something to cuddle.” When I was five years-old my parents, no doubt thinking it was for my own good (or something they had read somewhere) decided to get rid of all my childish notions by throwing out all my baby toys and mementoes. Teddy went with the rest of the stuff to the goodwill store and I never saw him again. I was devastated and I know for weeks after I’d wake up wet both from crying so much and peeing the bed. The last thing they wanted to do was put me back in diapers (it was against the very concept of my growing up) but mom would only put up with wet sheets for a couple of days before she insisted I wear disposables on a night. Oddly enough, these became my comfort for the next few months until I was gradually weaned off my loss of Teddy and eventually back into pjs. Gwyneth took another look at the photo I was still pointing at. “You do look particularly sweet,” she said nodding at the photo and then half to herself, “perhaps I should get you something special for your birthday after all?” Now I love my sister, in fact, I love everybody. I try not to be nasty to anyone and I go out of my way to be respectful to my seniors (Gwyneth is six years older than me) and try and do what I can to help if they are in difficulties or provide a cheerful word if they look like they might need one. I’m no Good Samaritan but I do help out at charity events and the church if they need any volunteers. At work, on their charity day, I was helping run the crèche, organise the free food and dress up as a clown to entertain the children. I got extra credit for all my efforts and was able to get an extra 5% off anything I bought in the store that week. Alas, I had no money and there was nothing I wanted. * As my 18th birthday approached I noticed that Gwyneth’s mood improved, as if in some way my reaching this age had cheered her up. I was glad to see her a lot happier and we chatted long into the night about silly stuff and our family. She was telling me that at the moment she had a sort of ‘writer’s block’ (which after all she’d been through I could understand) and that she was glad she had her ‘little brother’ to keep her company through this trying time. I felt sorry for her having to go through all that but was pleased that I was there and in some way help. Perhaps my parents hadn’t been quite as selfish as I’d thought in not letting me stay at home on my own. The guys at work had bought me celebratory cake for my birthday, which we wolfed down in our lunch break. I received a card signed by them all and also received a load of pats on the back and ‘well dones’ throughout the day. You’re probably wondering why I wasn’t out with my friends or girlfriend, well, I don’t have that many friends and most girls are only interested in a guy with a car and I didn’t fall into that particular category. When I got home the mailman had been but I got not so much as a card from mom and dad. I suppose they were too busy but you’d think… wouldn’t you? Thankfully, Gwyneth had remembered and not only got me a card but a present. * It was the biggest teddy bear I’d ever seen. It was slightly bigger than me and had this huge blue bow around its neck just like Teddy had. At first I thought ‘what a stupid gift’ but then I remembered our conversation from a few days previously and, ever thoughtful, she had actually bought me something she thought I’d love. As I stroked his soft fleecy bulk (yes I named him Teddy as I’m that imaginative), his glassy eyes and stitched on smile won me over and I couldn’t stop cuddling him… he was so soft and… wonderful. Gwyneth was delighted that I was happy and we sat and had a meal that she had specially prepared. She even offered me a glass of a rather nice chilled white wine, which for once didn’t taste of warm sour apples like I’d had in the past, although I really wasn’t much of a drinker. After two rather large glasses I was quite giggly and Gwyneth was very entertaining. She took a few photographs on her phone of me and Teddy cuddling and kissing (yes I know but I’d had a couple of drinks) and she thought how delightful we both looked. Then she said she had an idea and wondered if I’d be up for a dare. I wasn’t sure where this was going but, with my inhibitions loosened by the wine, nodded and she suggested we recreate that image of me of when I was one year old. * I laughed out loud. She laughed along with me and then said that perhaps, we should ask Teddy? “OK Teddy, you huge cuddlesome beast,” she giggled like she was a seven year-old, “should Benjy…” Now I giggled like a toddler as I looked into Teddy’s eyes half expecting him to actually reply. His huge furry face and soft welcoming body oozed love and friendliness… this was a Teddy who would always be there for you… for me… and would never steer me wrong. “… should Benjy accept the dare?” She nodded then looked at me who was watching her and then looked back at Teddy. Suddenly she leapt up and gave a little shout “There,” she said emphatically, “he just nodded.” I looked back at Teddy and there was no doubt that his smile appeared to have got broader (though this might be down to the influence of alcohol on my brain) and he was nodding (again this might have been down to my sister pushing him with an unseen hand), either way, it was conclusive. Teddy wanted me to re-enact my photo. * I started cuddling him but Gwyneth said that I had to change first. I wasn’t too sure what she meant but she told me to follow her to her room. “OK, let’s do this correctly,” she slurred slightly, “We need you dressed properly.” I wasn’t sure what was about to happen but I was enjoying the silliness of the situation so went along with it. “Take off your clothes,” she waved her hand in the direction of them, “and lay down on my bed.” I was a little bit shocked at the suggestion but it was my sister and she wouldn’t be seeing anything she hadn’t seen thousands of times before, which she reminded me of as I slowly pulled off my shirt and dropped my jeans. “Yesshh, and your boxers,” she went off in search of something in the bathroom. Reluctantly, I slid them to the floor and then playfully kicked them off. They landed on a lampshade, which immediately made me start to giggle even more. “Now I’m an accurate kicker,” I half grumbled to myself. “Why wasn’t I that good when I played soccer and there were other people around?” * I lay out naked on the soft, feather-filled, cream and blue duvet that covered her bed and awaited her return; my bare dick not displaying any of its usual feistiness like it often did when it came to being free of clothing. I stroked it a couple of times but thankfully it wasn’t playing and at that point Gwyneth arrived back in the room carrying a thick towel and I guilty let go of my prized ‘toy’. “I’ll get you something else to play with later,” she mocked as she pretended to slap away my hand. I realised what she was going to do and thought “Why not go all the way?” so let her fold it into shape and slip it under my bum… although before pinning it into place she sprinkled some baby powder all over me. “Now you even smell the part,” she was smiling and that had me responding in the same way as I quite like the smell of talcum powder. Nakedness between us has never been a problem. Nudity was never shameful in our family and it was just ‘normal’ that we wondered from bedroom to bathroom naked as it was wearing something. As we grew up we didn’t hide ourselves from each other so it was really no big deal for her to see my genitals, though perhaps not so close up. Even though she hadn’t lived at home for a couple of years now I wasn’t bothered as she rubbed the powder in and then tightly pulled the towel up between my legs and pinned it into place. She pulled me to my feet and let me look at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at how thick the towel fashioned as a diaper appeared but, and I have to hand this to my sister, it looked exactly like the one I was wearing as a baby all those years ago. She was smiling. “Let’s go show it off to Teddy… see what he thinks off his little friend… his little Benjy.” **** Part 2 Though it’s a name I never really liked, Benjy just seemed appropriate at that moment. She took my hand and guided me back to Teddy who once again seemed more than happy to see me, even dressed as I was. Gwyneth was keen that we should cuddle on the floor (not me and her, me and Teddy) so she could get another photograph. He was so cosy and soft it was like falling into warm butter and, as I squeezed him tightly, his furry arms appeared to embrace me at the same time. There is something very satisfying about a soft, yielding bear that welcomes you into its arms and responds with soft fleecy tickles to your naked body. Everywhere his fur touched produced a wonderful sensation; little ripples of giggly pleasure and velvety reassurance added together with delicate caresses made me feel very safe... and very loved. There was one thing missing and I was surprised when Gwyneth suddenly produced the finishing touch. She slipped a huge blue pacifier between my lips, which I had no idea how she got or where it came from. At that moment I didn’t question anything as Gwyneth started organising and taking her snaps. It was no problem snuggling with Teddy and to tell you the truth I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This was the most intimate contact I’d had with anyone (or anything) since, well, since I was five and had my final cuddle with the original Teddy… and I appreciated this renewed relationship. * The room was warm and I was comfortable wearing only a made-up diaper. It fitted tightly so wasn’t falling down every few seconds and once Gwyneth had finished taking her photos, we settled down to finish our meal, well dessert actually. It was nothing special except a rather colourful ice-cream medley. We decided to have it sitting on the sofa whilst watching a late night movie. Teddy was just too big to sit with us so he sat at my bare feet, tickling them every time I brushed against him, which I did regularly, so I was smiling when my sister brought in the dessert in a bowl. She then did something we’d never done before; she fed me spoonsful of the stuff in between taking the odd mouthful for herself. It was a lovely tender and unexpected moment. At one point we were in fits of laughter because she’d offered some to Teddy only for him to turn it down. I think she sneakily nudged his head so it looked like he was refusing the creamy delight. “Well I suppose someone’s got to think of their figure,” she shrugged and we both sniggered like tots at that. The movie was boring and the wine had made me very tired so I excused myself and brought my 18th birthday celebrations to a close. Gwyneth gave me a ‘goodnight’ peck and I thanked her for a great fun night (I had actually enjoyed what we’d done together it was so unlike anything we’d ever done before) as she patted my diapered bum and jokingly said I wasn’t to wet, but if I was going to, then at least I was dressed accordingly. I laughed as I began to trundle to my room but she called me back and asked if I wasn’t forgetting somebody? Of course, Teddy. I picked him up, for such a huge animal he was incredibly light to carry, and we toddled off to bed. It felt strange having the thickness of the diaper between my legs but with Teddy by my side I wasn’t worried, I dreamily thought he’d protect me from whatever the darkness brought. He was my friend and oddly enough the diaper seemed to make everything feel as it should be. Maybe it was the memory of how comforting diapers had been after I lost Teddy the first time that made me not worry as to the way I was dressed. We climbed on top of the sheets together and it was so nice sinking into bed with someone else, even if that someone was Teddy. He was warm and welcoming and it wasn’t long before, clutched in his paws (and him mine) we were dead to the world. * I woke up from a particularly heavy night’s sleep. I was slightly woozy but I was still clutching hold of Teddy, I smiled and thanked him for keeping me safe. I lay there for a few minutes enjoying the sensation of Teddy against my skin when I became aware of the thickness between my legs. I pulled back the thin piece of sheet partially covering us both and saw the towel hanging loosely around my hips. I was quite impressed that I’d been able to sleep with such an unusual thing wrapped around me but apparently, it had made no difference to how I slept. Then I suddenly wondered if I’d wet myself. I didn’t feel wet but… I slipped my hand across the front and thankfully that all felt dry, then, furtively, I slipped it down the front and checked around my dick. “Dry”, I sighed with relief. I got up, went to the bathroom and had a nice long shower. I could hear Gwyneth pottering around downstairs and was really pleased with the way we’d celebrated my birthday. As the shower grew warmer I was thinking it was a birthday I’d never forget and beamed enthusiastically at the thought of what we’d done. It had been madly childish but I now had a new Teddy and although I was eighteen, I wasn’t going to let my parents or anyone else send him to the goodwill store. * Dressed in shorts and t-shirt I wandered downstairs. I had four days off until I was scheduled to go back into work so I was being comfortable and relaxed. The store uniform was a tight-fitting green polyester ensemble of trousers and a shirt; with my name and ‘CAN I HELP’ written across the left breast, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wear but no one could pretend I wasn’t staff. Anyway, it was something I was always happy to ditch the moment I got home and slip into my favourite casual clothing, which is what I now wore as I wondered into the kitchen. Gwyneth was making coffee, smiling and humming to herself. We exchanged the usual pleasantries but I detected a grin on her face, which meant she was up to something. “What are you smiling about,” I enquired. “Oh, nothing much except I did something last night I’m… er… surprised at the results.” She smiled but looked down as if she had a guilty secret. “Yes, it was pretty strange wasn’t it… oh… and that reminds me… I’ve put the diaper in the bin. It’s not wet. Well it is but I… er… just dried myself on it.” I said quickly defending myself against any thoughts to the contrary she might have. Her face brightened up. “No seriously. I didn’t pee my diaper, honest. I just used what was nearby when I climbed out of the shower.” I stammered. She could see I was getting slightly agitated over nothing but that smile was still there. “I believe you,” she tried to calm me and put her hand over mine. “Anyway, I’m talking about something else.” And she flipped open the laptop that lay in front of her. “See,” she pointed to a Facebook page that had an image of me as a one year-old and me as an eighteen year-old, side by side hugging teddies, with pacis in our mouth and wearing diapers. She’d put the damn image from last night online. I was mortified. Not only that but as a joke she had swapped the caption underneath so it read “Benjy at 18” under the image of me at one year-old and “Benjy at 1” under the other. “Take it down.” She was still smiling. “Please, Gwyneth, take it down before anyone sees it… I… I…” “Too late for that I’m afraid.” The smile never left her face as she pointed to the fact that there were 207 Likes and 44 Comments… all of which Gwyneth assured me were positive. I put my head in my hands and wondered what I should do. I’ve never been any good at getting angry and I don’t think I’ve ever lost my temper with Gwyneth so I was stumped for how I should really respond. All I could think about was the guys at work seeing it and them constantly referring to it. It was a good thing I had so few friends, I wasn’t on Facebook because of that, but she told me she’d set one up just for me. Also, she informed me that I was now ‘trending’, whatever that was, and the next time I looked the Facebook page had gone up to 297 Likes and 61 comments. * I sat quietly sipping my coffee but unable to eat anything at that moment. I had filled-up and I was desperately trying to hold back my emotions. I wondered what had possessed her to do such a thing but as she was sat typing away I thought perhaps it had helped her get past her writers block. She pressed the ‘enter’ key and sat back relieved as if she’d just completed an enormous task. “Have you unblocked yourself,” I asked rather ineptly (and weepily). She looked at me pondering what I meant, “Can you now write… have you got over not having a story or… whatever…?” She smiled and said that she now had an idea but that it would need my help to see where it led. She was trying to cheer me up and dig me out of my ‘emotional’ state with a bit of enthusiasm. She speculated that it might be a terrific change of style for her but needed my involvement and hoped I’d be up for it. I was still nursing my bruised and emotional ego; I didn’t really want 297… no it was now 314… people to think of me as a baby but I suppose it did no real harm. After all, I had so few friends to worry over and in fact, my parents and my sister were the only people I really had anything to do with. I liked the guys at work but… well… it was work; it wasn’t like we socialised much. Even school mates were few and far between, I only saw them when they were back from college or university or where ever. “I’ve just uploaded a few more images of you from last night to the page…” she spun the screen for me to see, “and already people are clicking the ‘Like’ button.” * Although I was frustrated with her attitude my sister had furnished me with something else for my birthday, something I would never even have thought about, my own Facebook page. As I watched the screen I was amazed to see the number of Likes and Comments that kept appearing. She smiled at my stunned expression and suggested that I should read some of them. I had no idea how to go about it but she pointed out how many Likes each image was receiving and clicked on a box that let me see the comments. Most were very positive: “Oooo look at the lickle babe”, “What a sweet innocent picture”, “Lovely idea”, “What a nice boy” and similar things. However, there were one or two more intense messages. Gwyneth tapped the screen. “I think maybe later we should take a look at these suggestions and see where they lead.” I shook my head and told her I didn’t think so but she begged me to reconsider as she thought it would make an interesting part to a new novel she was just beginning to envisage. This, she promised, would get her back on track as she could already feel her creative juices flowing. I still doubted the wisdom of getting involved but she told me that I would be credited at the front of the book for my ‘inspiration’. OK, she got me. How could I refuse my sister and such an opportunity to be recognised as someone who had given a successful author ‘inspiration’? * As I sat at her laptop reading the various messages she told me, as she slipped on her coat, collected her car keys and headed for the door, not to reply to any comment just yet. I just shrugged but I have to admit that my curiosity was aroused by just how many people, now standing at over 400 Likes and 83 Comments, felt the need to acknowledge my photographs. I know I was looking like a happy teenager playing with a huge teddy bear and wearing just a diaper but I couldn’t get over why that should create such attention. “Where you going?” I eventually managed to break away from the screen. “Just to get a few things from the store, I shouldn’t be long.” She smiled. “There’s plenty of juice in the fridge if you’d rather have that than coffee… and there are some English muffin’s if you want something to eat.” “OK, see you soon.” I did prefer juice and poured myself a lovely long cool glass of OJ before putting the muffins in the toaster. I grabbed the butter and strawberry jelly and sat at the laptop waiting for the toaster to do its job, the screen had gone blank and wasn’t sure whether I should touch it to try and get my pages back. I was curious to see how things had developed since I’d last looked. I waited until I’d finished my breakfast before I examined the screen again and hoped that by touching one of the keys I didn’t erase all of Gwyneth’s work. * A list of recently visited sites appeared and I was distracted to see that the latest one was YouTube. This was perhaps one of my favourite sites because of all the cute animal clips that seemed to occupy most of its content. I decided I’d like to see some playful kittens to cheer myself up and pressed on the key. It went straight to a clip of a big baby rolling around the floor with a huge teddy. Oh no, it was me. The clip started on my diaper pins and slowly pulled out to reveal, well, everything. To begin with my face was hidden by the big paci and it could have been anybody but as I played with Teddy and moved around the floor hugging and kissing him I became more and more identifiable. My mouth went dry, it was if I’d never even drunk that OJ, and I stared at the screen mesmerised by my actions. There was absolutely no doubt I was having fun, diaper or not, and from the occasional looks to the camera you could tell I was in my element. As I watched my body went clammy and I could feel those emotions of mine rising to the surface. As I happily played my diapered bottom appeared to be the main focus of attention – just what the hell was Gwyneth thinking? There were three different clips; two of me playing with Teddy and one of me sleeping with Teddy, which I didn’t even know she’d recorded. In fact, I didn’t know she’d recorded anything I thought she was just taking photos with her phone. There I was, happily snuggling Teddy with my arms wrapped around him, paci hanging slightly out of my mouth fast asleep and my white padded bottom looking quite prominent against the dark blue of my sheets. I wondered why so many people had commented and noticed that the clips had, even after just such a short space of time, received more than 3200 hits. There was a link to the Facebook page but now I was dreading reading the comments as I was sure they would be calling me a perv… or worse. I filled up with tears and cried because I didn’t know what I could do, I thought such notoriety would make me a laughing stock in town, perhaps lose my job and I’d never be able to look people in the eye again. * My bottom lip was still trembling when Gwyneth arrived back home. I hadn’t moved from staring at the screen because I was simply mesmerised by the images. She could see I was disturbed and dropped the bundle of packages she was carrying and came over to comfort me. The sobbing became a full blown wail as I buried my head in her bosom and kept on asking her “Why?” I assumed she hadn’t done it to hurt me but I couldn’t figure out why she would do such a thing. After a few minutes I calmed down and I looked at my sister through tear-stained eyes. She hugged me again and asked why I was crying. I was speechless that she could ask such a question so just pointed to the screen. “Yes, it’s you…” she asked with concern, “but why are you crying?” “What… what… what will…” I sniffed, “what will people think?” She just shook her head slightly. “They’ll think that there’s something wrong with me… they’ll think I’m…” I couldn’t finish my thoughts as I was overcome once again with a huge sob that gripped my throat and left me shaking my head in disbelief. “Tell me,” Gwyneth was now all very serious, “aren’t those really tears of happiness?” I looked at her in disbelief. “You’re eighteen. Eighteen,” she emphasised, “and” she pointed at the screen, “that’s the first time I’ve seen you truly happy in many-a-year.” There was no doubt about it those images were of me genuinely happy. When I was playing with Teddy I simply didn’t have another thought in my head apart from having a fun time with him. But I wondered, what might others think of an eighteen year-old running around in a towel… that’s a diaper? Gwyneth hugged me once more. “You, my sweet little Benjy, needed something. I wasn’t sure what to begin with but, and I’m sorry to say this to my little brother but, you needed a kick up the arse for you to start living.” I was stunned at what she was saying. “You are eighteen and just coasting through life. You have a miserable job…” I interrupted her and said that at least I had a job. “Yes you do, and I’m sure it’s fine in many ways but… I’ve never seen you actually happy for so long now. You seem to have few, if any, friends and mom and dad are no real help to encourage you…” The enormity of what she was saying suddenly gripped me and I felt that huge sob I’d been holding back in the pit of my stomach come out with force. I hung onto Gwyneth as I wailed and wailed, not this time because I was worried about what others might think but because she was correct. ***** Part 3 Later, when I’d calmed down, Gwyneth told me her thinking. She said that from the moment I saw the photo of me with Teddy as a baby there was an immediate change of expression on my face; wistful, thoughtful, with a touch of longing. She wasn’t sure but thought Teddy made me happy. I began to think back - certainly that time in my life, when I wasn’t regarded as anything but a toddler, when I didn’t have to prove myself and just enjoy my childhood… I was like everyone else my age… a little kid revelling in what was around him... I was happy. She went into a great deal of detail about how I tried so hard to live up to my parent’s expectations; they were of the opinion that kids should grow up quick and had little time for games and play – ‘read and learn’ was their philosophy. Unfortunately, those were the very things Gwyneth was most happy doing but I just couldn’t get to grips with. Reading and numbers just weren’t for me and I wrestled with school work, which I found very difficult no matter how I tried. My sister went on about how, even so young, I let failure weigh heavy on my shoulder, although it wasn’t always obvious because I tried to be positive and strived to be upbeat. Once our parents realised I wasn’t going to be a boy genius (they were most disappointed in my report cards) they more or less lost interest. They gave themselves over to their work and concentrated on their careers rather than what I did. Of course Gwyneth was way ahead in her development and they saw no problems there. Often I tried to read but once I’d open a book, if I got past the first two pages, well, my concentration level jumped to wanting to watch TV or go and play outside. Sometimes I’d curl up with Gwyneth and she’d read to me whatever it was she was interested in. I may not have understood everything but I think, without her, I’d know very little. When I thought about it, she did the job my parents should have done. It wasn’t that they ignored me, more that they tolerated me. I was their son after all… I zoned back in to what Gwyneth was saying. “You may not have been the cleverest in school but everyone liked you.” She looked at me very concerned and stroked my arm. She went on to tell me that even now I accept limitations but said I shouldn’t. She thought it sad that I didn’t have a girlfriend… or a boyfriend, she nudged me and smiled, but thought I needed to do something to break away from my ‘boring’ rut of a life… and do something to regain my happiness. “The recreation of the photograph last night suddenly brought things into focus for me,” she was on a roll now. “You seemed to become a different person, a happy person, a person who, left to their own devices… and given the right stimulus…” “You mean you thought I enjoyed being a baby?” I asked incredulously. She pointed to the screen. “Yes, just look at yourself. Even when you’re asleep you look happy.” A shiver ran through my body because I knew she was making some kind of sense and I had really loved last night. “But the diaper… what will people think?” “Well,” she pondered. “You may not like it but… I think that helped release something in you - something that has been holding you back. Last night we giggled like kids and there was no one around but us two to say anything or have an opinion about what we did. No parents, no workmates, no one to hold you back, so why should you let others inhibit you? Stop thinking about what others may think… they don’t matter.” Then she ran her hand through my hair and kissed my forehead, “And yes… even for an eighteen year-old, running around in a diaper… you looked pretty damn cute.” “But why put it all online, couldn’t you just have said something?” I complained. “It was just a spur of the moment decision. I wanted to let you see that the majority of people quite like to see someone enjoying themselves. People like all kinds of things to hide what they do and what they are, but you brother, were open and happy when you weren’t worrying about anyone else and I think others respond to that.” She pointed to the screen, “I think you respond to that.” * There were more opinions from my sister and, as she’s a lot brighter than me, eventually convinced me that this was a turning point in my life. She added that the comments online were almost all positive, occasionally cheeky but always interested, supportive and in some ways quite affectionate. Of course there’s going to be one or two people who hate the idea of others finding a way of having fun “Just so they can shit on you” (yep she actually said shit) but, and this is where her recent shopping trip had come in, she wanted to try and let me take that idea of happiness a little further. She’d bought a whole load of adult disposables and wanted me to spend the next few days wearing nothing but them. She persuaded me that I needed to get back to when I was at my happiest. To relive those times hoping to give me a window into what I needed to do to make me content in the future. I baulked at her suggestion but my sister has a way of getting me to go along with her plans so, guess what? She took me upstairs, stripped me out of my shorts and t-shirt and slipped me into a tight-fitting disposable. She took great pains to make the event something special; opening the package, unfurling the diaper, enjoying the crinkling sound as she spread it under my bottom. The wet-wipes and powder she used to clean me up (not that I was dirty or anything it was all part of a process), the silliness as I started to get a stiffy from her ministrations, which she quickly took care of by pulling the disposable tightly up between my legs and taping me snugly in. From her bag she produced a pair of plastic pants and had me climb into them after which led me to Teddy, who, during the proceedings she had found time to dress the same. How she knew I’d go along with her suggestion I do not know but, oddly enough, I was delighted to see Teddy dressed like me and it did make things easier. We spent the rest of the day playing games; me, my sister and Teddy. * Now you may think - well that was easy - getting me into diapers but I’ve spared you the long discussion we had to go through to get to that stage. She showed me loads of comments that had been posted by those who’d watched the clip or seen the images. As I’ve said, most seemed straight forward and nice but others were actually welcoming me to my ‘little’ side. I had no idea what they were referring to but Gwyneth seemed to understand and, more importantly, felt it was something I should get to know. Ever the author, she’d spent some time researching what it all meant and thought it applied to me, even if I wasn’t aware of it. She then showed me clip after clip of other grown-ups wearing diapers and having fun. People from all over the world and all ages, I was astonished there were others at all. A couple of cute boys in Japan appeared to have a site about their daily diapered exploits, one nice young man sang a song at his piano dressed in a thick diaper. There were so many – an old guy eating whilst in a high-chair, others drinking from baby-bottles and sippy cups or charging around whilst wearing nothing but diapers and a cape pretending to be a super hero. Meanwhile, as some played with toys several exhibited what they had just crayoned or painted. It was quite overwhelming and gave the impression that diapered and padded plastic covered bottoms were everywhere. It was a whole new world to me and one I had no idea existed but, as Gwyneth pointed out, they were all enjoying themselves and not worrying what anyone else thought. She convinced me to give it a go and promised that if I wasn’t getting any pleasure from the new ‘situation’ then we’d forget all about it. It was late evening when I was eventually diapered and, thanks to Gwyneth, I didn’t feel guilty whilst running around dressed as I was and cheerfully including Teddy in all my escapades. Suddenly my mind was open to fun - childish fun - fun that I hadn’t experienced, well, since I was a toddler. The truth was I was in my element. Weirdly, the wearing of a diaper and plastic pants (Gwyneth said it was my freedom uniform!) had no restricting effect on the way I behaved. In fact, she was correct, it felt wonderful to wear; snug, comfortable and the constant rustling as I moved around acted like some kind of soothing sound I found reassuring. Though it may have appeared very juvenile to anyone looking on I’d never felt happier, freer, or more content. The diapers, the plastic pants, the pacifier, indeed the entire ensemble gave me a feeling of complete reassurance. Teddy provided someone I could direct it all to, while Gwyneth was my guide and safeguard. * In the morning I woke up with Teddy and off course I’d spent the night wearing just my padded protection (another term Gwyneth used although I wasn’t sure from what it was I was being protected). My sister was standing over me and gently shaking my shoulder to rouse me from my deep and untroubled sleep and then, without asking, she felt down the front of my diaper. “What are you doing?” I queried as I quickly clasped her hand over my bulky protection stopping her searching fingers from reaching any further. “Just checking.” “Just checking what?” “Just seeing if you wet yourself in the night…” “What?” I asked incredulously. “Why would I wet myself?” “You might have… I was just checking so that you don’t have to be embarrassed if you had and…” “Stop, stop.” I waved my finger at her. “I’m old enough to get up and go to the bathroom, why on earth would I wet myself?” She smiled. “You don’t have to get all defensive. All I’m saying is… if you had wet yourself it’s OK I will…” “That’s not OK at all,” I argued. “I’m not going to pee… or poop in a diaper… YUK!” “Fair enough. All I’m saying is, should you do so then you don’t have to feel embarrassed about it. I’ll change and clean you up.” I was getting slightly annoyed. Even though I enjoyed being in my diaper I didn’t actually think about using it as a toilet. However, soon after she left the room for me to get up she returned with a new disposable and some other bits and bobs and told me I needed a change anyway. As I’d sort of agreed to wearing nothing but a diaper for the next couple of days she just shrugged off my half-hearted protests and unfurled the crinkly package. * As I lay there I was wondering - Why is she behaving in this way? We’d agreed that it was something I might like to try but wetting and stuff… in a diaper… I wasn’t keen on that at all, and then it hit me. She’d recently lost her own chance of a baby, perhaps the miscarriage was affecting her and I was now some kind of surrogate, someone she was projecting her unresolved feelings on? In that moment of comprehension my emotions welled up inside me again and I hugged my sister. After all she’d been through, still acting strong and in charge yet perhaps she needed her own way of coping with things. I was choked at the thought that if I could help, then I was there for her no matter what it took. Without making a fuss I let her strip off my night time stuff, clean me up (just as she said she would) but this time, when she had me lay out on the newly unfurled diaper, she added some extra pads before taping me tightly into place. This was a whole new experience and with the plastic pants now firmly holding it securely she led me down to breakfast. At this point I have to admit to being more than a little confused. I wasn’t sure whether I was doing this for her or for me but the bulky, rustling diaper arrangement meant I now had a wild noisy waddle as I negotiated the stairs but even that was funny and we joked about it. She’d cut up my pancakes and, although she’d put juice in a sippy cup, I stopped short at her suggestion of feeding me. However, I had noticed that my meal now came in a plastic bowl with cartoon animals smiling sweetly up at me and a spoon that echoed the same cheerful motif. She appeared to have gone to a lot of trouble to make me feel happy about being ‘little’ and I reluctantly began to appreciate all her efforts. * I was happy to wander around the house dressed as I was but when she suggested we go out for the day and enjoy the sunshine in the park or a walk up in the hills I was a little less sure. She told me to just pull a pair of shorts over my diaper and slip on a shirt and I’d be fine. I wasn’t sure about this at all as I was under no illusion that people would be able to tell what I was really wearing under my shorts. Her opinion was simple “Screw them” no one else mattered but me and, she whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “Don’t you think it would be quite exciting, Little Benjy doing what he wants for a change?” Once again, somehow, what she wanted I agreed to and before too long I’d tried on several pairs of shorts and jeans to try and hide the bulkiness, none of which fitted properly. I was beginning to see the downside to wearing padding and such thick padding at that. I was about to tell Gwyneth that I couldn’t find anything but in the end one pair of baggy shorts (I didn’t much like because they were too slack) managed to do the job and surprise, surprise, they were no longer loose. It was a wonderful hot day and I was more than pleased to be out and about not really paying much attention to what I was wearing. Although I could feel the bulk of it all I thought that the shorts hid what was underneath pretty well. We walked up into the hills and hardly saw anyone, those that did pass by just nodded or said “Hello” and carried on their way. We found a lovely shady spot where Gwyneth decided we’d have our picnic. She’d brought sodas, sandwiches and fruit but I wondered what I’d brought in the little backpack she’d given me to carry. She told me all would be revealed eventually but for the time being we should eat and enjoy the wonderful, peaceful surroundings. * The mass between my legs had made me waddle as we walked. It felt peculiar but I was getting a feeling of pleasure knowing what I was wearing, the problem was the padding and plastic made me sweat and I could feel moisture pooling at my crotch. Once we’d sat down Gwyneth saw me trying to rearrange the diaper and suggested, as it was so hot, I take off my shorts and shirt to let some sun and air get to my diaper… as I looked like “…a sweating pig”. It was true I was soaked and it would be a bit of a relief so I furtively looked around and saw no one anywhere near so I did as she suggested. It felt great being outside in the fresh air in just a diaper. Gwyneth thought I looked particularly cute and encouraged me run around and to chase butterflies as she got the picnic ready. I was aware that she was also taking photos with her phone and to be honest I was acting the big kid just for the camera. However, I didn’t know just how much I was enjoying myself until a little while later I noticed a couple talking with Gwyneth. I froze as I heard these two old people, both with walking sticks, making small talk about the weather and the beautiful countryside. They were looking across at me, waving and I heard them say that they liked to see a boy enjoying himself. So engrossed in my game of ‘chase the bugs’ I hadn’t seen the couple arrive but their sudden appearance startled me and made me do something I never thought I’d do - I felt a nervous spurt of pee escape. It was if my bladder was shocked by this unexpected visitation and reacted accordingly. I stood there stunned as they continued to chat and wave a greeting. Unfortunately, I was too embarrassed to respond even if no one else appeared to be. It was too late to hide so I just stood there, like a statue, about twenty feet away completely immobile and wishing I was somewhere else. Gwyneth called me over as the food was ready and inferred I should come and say ‘Hello’ but I was just too self-conscious. Eventually, the couple stopped talking to Gwyneth and carried on their way. As they passed by they smiled and said what a lovely day it was before disappearing down the hill. However, as they spoke, and without warning, my little spurt turned into a flow and no matter what my brain was saying to try and stop it, pee filled the diaper to complete my humiliation. The couple had obviously seen what I was wearing but there was no mention of diapers or shiny plastic pants, even though they were now an even bulkier part of my outfit having absorbed a great deal of liquid. * I waddled over to Gwyneth who looked at me strangely before I think she realized what I’d done. With a knowing but sympathetic expression she asked. “Do you need a change?” I wasn’t sure whether to admit it but there seemed little point in denying what had happened so I nodded. She lifted her hand examining the front of my diaper and said it wasn’t so bad and that it could wait for a while and we should eat first. Despite my embarrassment I was starving so plonked myself down on the blanket and set about the ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches (covered in mayo) with relish. ***** Part 4 Wearing a wet diaper wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be and after a while, and despite the bulk, I’d forgotten that I’d wet them. After we’d eaten we had a game of ‘ISpy’ and a rather interesting competition of cloud watching; it really is incredible the shapes you can interpret into actual things. We were coming up with some silly and clearly outrageous suggestions and this had us giggling quite a lot. However, after a couple of hours, and several cans of soda, I was desperate for another pee. Gwyneth looked at me when I said I needed to go because I was searching for a private spot to do my duty. She just reminded me that I’d already used my diaper once so it would be silly not to do so again. I thought I couldn’t do it deliberately but Gwyneth pounced, rolled on top of me and began to tickle. Whether I wanted to or not that got the old pee flowing, and it is to the credit of the diaper’s absorption powers that nothing trickled out. * We lay in the sun enjoying the final few rays before we returned home. I wondered if I’d have to squish all the way but my ever prepared sister opened the little backpack I’d carried, emptied it out and there were spare disposables, plastic pants, creams, lotions and of course a supply of wipes and baby powder. I had no idea that was what I was carrying but, as she pulled at the tapes off my swollen diaper I was rather pleased she’d planned ahead. It was a relief when she removed the soggy thing. It had expanded to quite a size and again I was amazed that I’d been wearing that grossly expanded object between my legs and, perhaps more to the point, it hadn’t concerned me in the least. As she wiped me clean but before she applied the creams and powder a light breeze blew against my naked genitals and sent tiny ripples of bliss through my body. My penis reacted and grew under her deft handiwork but she just smiled, pulled the diaper between my well-powdered groin and quickly taped it into place; flattening its stiffness against my body and blocking any further thoughts I might have had regarding that particular bit of my anatomy. This time the plastic pants I stepped into were blue and I was dressed like that for a few minutes as we packed everything else away. Gwyneth took more photographs and kept on reminding me how wonderful and sweet she thought I looked. In fact, at every opportunity she kept complementing the way I looked and patting my padded bottom, which made me chuckle, I liked the attention. The day had been nothing like any other I could remember. I couldn’t remember ever doing this with mom or dad, days out were just something other kids got to experience with their parents. This was great and even in diapers, it had been a fantastic day… in fact I was appreciating even more the incredible efforts my sister had gone to for me to feel special on my eighteenth. * Back home we sat and watched TV for a while (her in her summer dress and me wearing nothing but a diaper and plastic pants), before she recommended I had a bath before bed - to make sure, she jokingly said, that there was no residue pee left secreted in any ‘crevices’. Normally, I have a shower in the morning and that’s it but her reasonable suggestion made me think it probably wasn’t a bad idea so off I went. I shucked off my diaper, which wasn’t wet, and happily climbed into the suds. The water was very hot but I could just about stand it; my sister’s lavender bubble bath I’d ladled in helped me to fully relax as I let myself soak for quite some time. It had been one hell of a day and as I washed my hair and gently scrubbed those all-important places I began to feel ‘playful’ again. Wearing a diaper had a major drawback for a horny eighteen year-old, it restricted (if not completely prevented) any cock and ball play. A toddler may not think that way but, now I was out of those confining things, I intended on having a different kind of fun. However, just as I was enjoying the gentle caress of my own soapy hand, Gwyneth walked in with a towel. I was slightly embarrassed at being caught in mid-stroke but she just smiled and told me that I’d wrinkle up if I didn’t get out of the bath. I was hoping she’d go so I could continue with my efforts but she just stood there, towel outstretched, waiting for me to rise from the foam. Reluctantly I climbed out and Gwyneth proceeded to give me the most thorough drying I think I’ve ever received; every bit of my body was methodically rubbed. Unfortunately, she ignored the very part of me that would have benefitted from such an enthusiastic massage and I was left more than a little frustrated. * She guided me to my room and of course her supplies were all laid out ready for me to be diapered for the night. I really thought that it would be back to my usual boxers and t-shirt to sleep in but obviously Gwyneth had other ideas. I was about to complain, or try and reason with her at least, but she’d gone to such extraordinary lengths so far to make me happy I wondered if this was perhaps another thing I thought I didn’t want but actually did. Anyway, the upshot was that she carefully applied lotions and creams, lashings of powder and an ultra-thick fabric diaper, which was held in place with two huge pink pins. Once again she slipped up a pair of clear plastic pants that snugly held it all together and, just as I thought she’d finished and was about to crawl into bed, she produced something else, a pair of footed pjs. I wasn’t expecting this and wondered how the hell she’d been able to get hold of something my size so quickly. The pjs were blue with cartoon stars and planets all over them and, as she fed my feet into them, I marvelled at how soft the fabric was as it touched and caressed my skin. Soon my arms were encased and she stood me up for the final action. The zip was at the back and stretched from hips to neck, which she closed with a flourish. Then we stood together looking in the mirror and it was an amazing sight. For a brief second I was stunned at the reflection; I thought she looked like mom and I was back to being a toddler, I was even holding her hand and, as a shiver ran through my body, and despite my size, I really did feel like I was back to being a little kid. I was speechless as Gwyneth gently led me to my bed, pulled back the covers, where Teddy was lying still dressed in his own diaper, and urged me in. I was dazed at this strange ‘mirror revelation’, a glimpse of my past that really shook me and, because I was distracted thinking about it, wasn’t even aware that she had slipped a babies bottle full of warm milk between my lips. As she held it to my mouth, and with my mind elsewhere, I naturally began to suck and closed my eyes as I rhythmically downed the entire contents. Later she replaced the bottle with my paci and left me cuddling Teddy as I drifted off to sleep after what, one way and another, had been a pretty eventful day. * My dreams were of Teddy and me and Gwyneth and me, where Gwyneth was actually my mommy and Teddy was my father… weird. At one point mommy (Gwyneth) was telling me what a ‘good boy’ I was because I’d managed to use the potty correctly but daddy (Teddy) was threatening to spank me if I didn’t wear my diaper like he was (yes in my dreams Teddy/daddy was still wearing his diaper). In my dreams I was doing all I could to please them both and each one was telling me what a ‘clever baby’ I was being. I woke up desperate for a pee. I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom but once there found I couldn’t reach the zip on the rear of my footer. I tugged and tugged but for some reason I just couldn’t budge it, in the end I had no option but to fill my diaper. I argued with myself that was what the diaper was for, and Gwyneth had encouraged me to think of it in that way, “Just do it” had been her advice, so that’s what I did. To begin with it was a strange warm sensation, which I didn’t mind much, luckily the diaper and plastic pants held it all in and I was able to fall back to sleep relatively quickly. In the early hours I felt I needed to go again but this time I made no attempt to get to the bathroom so lay there and with little effort further filled my diaper. When I eventually did wake up the diaper was thick between my legs and my plastic pants where a shiny stretched reminder at just how much I’d drunk the night before. However, and this fact was a bit of an eye-opener, it didn’t worry me what I’d done. Just the day before the very thought had made me recoil in horror but here I was wearing a fully soaked diaper and not being bothered about it in the slightest. * I got up and sought out Gwyneth because I needed help getting out of the footer. She was already downstairs making breakfast and smiled as I shuffled into the kitchen. Another few photographs were taken as I asked her to let me out but she just told me to sit down and have the bacon and eggs she’d cooked before they got cold, and which had been cut into bite sized pieces. I waddled to the table (I was waddling everywhere at that time) sat down and it was a squelchy diaper that cushioned my bottom. Once again everything was served in the new little kiddie bowl and I was given only the matching spoon to use. My juice was served in a sippy cup and despite any doubts I may have had I was so famished I happily ate and drank the lot. Once my plate was clean and I’d taken it to be washed Gwyneth led me back upstairs to be changed. She tweaked the zipper and it easily came down but I informed her that I was very, very wet because I couldn’t get to the bathroom to go properly. She just smiled as I stepped out of my pjs making small talk about what the plans were for the day and as if changing an eighteen year-old was the most natural thing to do. I shucked down my plastic pants and the fabric beneath was saturated. She asked if I’d messed as well but I just made an “Uuuurrrghhh” type of noise to indicate no and she patted my swollen bottom and unpinned me. How she could be OK with all this changing business I didn’t know but I suppose, thinking about what I’d assumed earlier, she was substituting me for her lost baby… well maybe. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to spoil whatever fantasy or need she had at that moment because, well, I was still enjoying playing this game myself. * Gwyneth had been correct about there being a ‘little’ me somewhere inside and that the people online and who commented on YouTube had also noticed it so, I was feeling part of a pretty cute group. I liked the term ‘little’ and, as my sister had shown me, dressed in diapers had released me to be the fun person she suspected I was all along. With her encouragement being childish was nothing to be ashamed about and living an enjoyable life as a toddler certainly beat stacking shelves. However, work was on the horizon and I wanted to make the most of my time off before it was back to the grindstone. I’d even begun to think that perhaps I might be able to wear a diaper or something similar under my uniform but I was sure the outline would be obvious as the pants were so tight. I showered and Gwyneth once again got me ready for the day. She put a couple of pads in the disposable and pulled up the clear plastic pants. She pointed to a mark on the front and told me that, if I wet them, then the mark would change colour and she could check without me saying anything if I needed changing. Then she pulled out a new yellow t-shirt with tiny toy rocking horses all over them and slipped it over my head. Although I did a sort of double-take because it looked so childish she then produced a matching pair of shorts which she quickly fed my legs into and pulled up to my waist. Again that feeling of just being a little kid with mommy dressing me coursed through my body and I stood transfixed by my new outfit. Although I was eighteen I wasn’t a large teenager, in fact, Gwyneth was a good two inches taller than me and looked much bigger. However, I didn’t get chance to be pleased or complain because Gwyneth was guiding my crinkling butt down the stairs and out to the car. * I had no idea where we were going but Gwyneth was telling me about some of the online comments she had read. According to her, loads of them had said that it was best to make the ‘little one’ happy and comfortable in clothes that were soft, colourful and reminded them of when they were a toddler. Toys and colouring books were also an important aspect to all this so that’s where we were going now, to a mall that had a huge toy store. For every reason I put up not to go (especially dressed as I was) she had a comment that said the opposite. There was no doubt that the bulky diaper I was sitting on was a constant reminder of what I liked and perhaps surprisingly I found the hugging of my hips and groin very pleasing. However, although I quite liked it I thought my little yellow outfit was maybe going too far to be seen in public. Gwyneth said I shouldn’t worry, everything would be alright and was convinced no one would say a thing. I doubted that and remained silent for the rest of the journey. * In the silence I began to think. How come she had a footer my size? How come she had this outfit ready? How come she had a paci, bowl, diapers and plastic…? Just as my suspicions were growing I suddenly got a pain in my stomach. I groaned and Gwyneth asked me what was wrong. I tried to tell her about the pain but almost instantaneously my guts started to churn. I begged Gwyneth to pull over as I needed to go to the bathroom but she said there wasn’t one nearby. She said that I should just pee in the diaper but I moaned I thought it might be more than that. “OK, just hold on we’re not far away.” She said with concern etched on her face. Unfortunately, the turmoil in my stomach wasn’t open to any constraints from me and I couldn’t hold back. With a loud wet fart the contents of my bowel erupted into my diaper and I was crying in humiliation and disgust as wave after wave of poop exited my bottom. The smell in the car was awful and Gwyneth had to roll down the window to get us both some air. I sat in my own rapidly filling diaper stunned at what was happening. As soon as my guts exploded the pain had instantly gone but I was mortified by the strange and disgusting feeling in my pants… my emotions took over and there were more tears. A couple of minutes later and we arrived at the mall but I thought in my state I just couldn’t leave the car. However, she insisted that I couldn’t just sit in the mess and that I wasn’t to worry she’d have me cleaned up in no time. She grabbed my hand and led me crying and gingerly waddling towards Toys’r’Us, which was the first store in the mall nearest to where we parked. There were a few kids already looking at toys with their parents but Gwyneth led me straight to the baby changing area. It was empty when we went in and although I was crying and embarrassed I let her take charge. My little shorts were pulled off, which thankfully were still clean, she then tentatively shimmied the plastic pants down to reveal my bloated and discoloured disposable. Mercifully, the extra padding had absorbed most of the liquid but I was still a mess. She quickly stripped me out of it all and, with barely any acknowledgement to the smell, set about cleaning me up. I hadn’t noticed the large bag she was carrying but as she lay me out on one of the counters, she opened it up to reveal a host of stuff she’d need to fix me. First she used toilet paper and then going over to the sink soaped up a cloth she’d brought and began to wipe away the debris. I was still sniffling when someone else came in. A woman with a baby took one look at me, looked pityingly at Gwyneth and then set about changing her own child. My clean-up took quite some time and during that period I lay there motionless, self-conscious and desperate not to make eye contact with any of the other patrons using the facilities. * A lady with a boy aged about ten came in, found the empty table next to mine and stripped her son out of his shortalls by simply popping some studs at his crotch, laying him out and then popping the studs on his cute cartoon plastic pants, which instantly gave her easy access to his soaked diaper. Gwyneth watched how easily it all appeared and asked the lady where she had bought her boy’s shortalls. After a brief discussion about their usefulness and hardwearing properties (“Just the thing for an active boy”) she made a note of the name she’d been given, thanked her and resumed my re-diapering. The young boy and I were finished together. Gwyneth pulled up my yellow shorts as his mother finished pressing the last few poppers back together. He bashfully smiled at me as his mum picked him up, patted his freshly padded bottom and they set off to finish their shopping… and quite unexpectedly I cautiously waved back. The young boy’s attitude to being changed in public had stopped me blubbing as he seemed untroubled by the process. That sweet little smile had really got to me and I wished we could play together. I was no longer thinking of our age difference only what we had in common and we both wore diapers and had accidents in them. It was a revelation and suddenly I didn’t feel so self-conscious. * Once Gwyneth had packed all her stuff away, and before we left the bathroom, she asked if I was OK. Now I was clean, dry and wearing my thick ‘protection’ (now I knew what Gwyneth had meant by that term) I was comfortable and quite happy to continue. “Good,” she said as she patted my freshly padded bottom and we entered the main part of the store. The array of toys was spellbinding. Mom and dad had never been keen on my playing with such childish things and because Gwyneth, even as a youngster, preferred to read, I wasn’t encouraged or given many toys to play with. As we toured the aisles I was spoilt for choice, I just didn’t know what to get for the best. Over in the kids play area right next to the store I saw the young boy from earlier running around with some younger kids sliding into the ball pit, running on the rope bridge and playing on the JungleGym. He noticed me and waved again and it was the first time I noticed that his diaper was really quite obvious and thick. However, he seemed unconcerned as he smiled, whooped with pleasure and chased some other kids into another part of the ‘playzone’. * Sitting on the floor in front of a plastic toy garage was another guy, perhaps a few years older than me, seeing how the wind-up lift worked that took the toy cars to the top to let them zigzag down again. He was wearing denim shorts but because he was bent over there was no hiding the top of his diaper from showing above the waistband. As I walked past he looked up and smiled, whilst running one of the four vehicles scattered around him along the ground and making car noises. “That looks fun,” I said and he invited me to join him on the floor. He was a lot older than his clothes would have suggested; he had a huge cartoon character on the front of his sweatshirt and his socks also had the same image festooned all over them. His sneakers had lights in the heel which flashed as he walked and he spoke, well, like a toddler. He was both shy and enthusiastic to have someone to play with but then I saw an older man approach who asked him if he’d made a friend. Gwyneth and the man got talking as we played together and inspected all the secrets that the garage contained. I didn’t hear what they were saying because my new friend grabbed my hand and took me to another aisle to look at the latest huge toy castle that he said his ‘dada’ was going to buy him. His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want anyone to notice him, but he was enthusiastic as he explained all the fantastic things the castle contained and all the dragons, monsters and soldiers you could get to do battle. He seemed so excited but then his ‘dada’ called him and he went rushing off to hold his hand. Even though he was older than me he acted like a little kid; shyly holding his ‘dada’s’ hand and swinging a foot whilst he waited for him to stop chatting with Gwyneth. I have to admit, knowing he was wearing a diaper like me was heart-warming, he looked so sweet and just as at ease as the ten year-old boy had been. I sat where I was inspecting the massive plastic castle with all its turrets and towers and wondered if I should get one. He’d fired my imagination and I liked the idea of dragons and knights and fantastic mythical encounters. A few moments later Gwyneth called me but I hadn’t made up my mind. We spent a good couple of hours looking at everything but I really wished I could play in the kids Playzone with all the other children as it looked fun. However, I realised that it just wasn’t built for someone my size and I’d just have to watch. After the two encounters with other ‘older’ diaper wearers, now I was all clean and tidy myself I never gave what I was wearing much thought and it was only the knowing smile from an adult, or a gawping look from a toddler that occasionally made me hesitate. However, I had work to do and decisions to make and they didn’t come easily. In the end I settled on some cars, a large truck and loads of little figures and colouring books from the latest Pixar movie. ***** Tbc
  25. Selling 2 cases of Xl tranquility SmartCore Diapers asking 50.00 each plus actual shipping or free local pickup in NW WA state