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Going to use this thread to share some flash fictions over time. At about the same rate that I release them over on my patreon. What Dreams May Come A sound, like rushing water awakens you. You’re awake. You’re in a crib. You’re wearing a diaper. It’s soaked and your bladder is empty. This is not surprising. You went to sleep in this crib. It’s no wonder you should wake up in it. Same for the diaper. It wasn’t wet when you fell asleep, (not that wet anyways) but it’s present condition is just the natural consequence of the passage of time. You sit up and yawn away the last of the dream stuff. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if that squish beneath your bottom is poop or not. It’s so hard to tell first thing in the morning when everything between your legs is wet and squishy. It’s shocking just how routine this all has become. There was time when you would have balked at all of this. Now you just accept it. Mommy comes into the room. “Good morning, baby!” she coos at you through your crib bars. “Did you sleep well? Have pleasant dreams?” You smile softly, demurely, as you give a pleasant chirp of ‘Yes Mommy!” “Wonderful!” she says. “Let’s get you changed and ready for the day.” She lowers the crib bars and you climb out only so that you can climb back onto the changing table. “Such a good baby!” You are a good baby. A very good one. It’s something that you’ve worked hard at. So very hard. You haven’t had any other choice. It’s not up to you. Nothing is. You struggled at first, but Mommy made it very clear very quickly that you could fight as much as you wanted, but it wouldn’t stop you from becoming her good baby. “After we get you dressed for the day,” Mommy says pulling the safety strap over your chest. “We’ll get you some breakfast, and then we’ll go to the park to play. Maybe Margaret will be there!” Margaret is your best friend. Your Mommy and hers had decided it. You didn’t much care for her, to be honest, but you didn’t have much choice in the matter. You don’t feed yourself. You don’t dress yourself. You don’t decide where you go, who you spend time with or for how long. The only freedom you have left is in your dreams. In your dreams you can be anything. When you’re awake, the only thing you can be is a dumb baby. Mommy’s working extra hard on unteaching you your FZY’s. Mommy is a very good teacher… Mommy tears open the tapes on your diaper and starts to clean you up. “Oh wow!” she gushes. “Such a wet baby!” She drags the cold wet baby wipe across your front and between your legs. “I bet someone was dreaming about going for a swim!” You open your mouth to tell her what you were actually dreaming about. You can’t remember, though. It was so vivid, too, you’re sure! Cold wipes on your bottom and Mommy’s cooing makes it so hard to concentrate! Just then, Bobby walks in. Bobby is your big brother, but not so big that you don’t have to share a room together. Bobby has a big kid bed that looks like a racecar. Sometimes Mommy asks him what he wants to do instead of telling him. Billy can feed himself and dress himself. Presently, he’s doing just that. You watch enviously from the changing table while Bobby takes his pajamas off, all by himself. You stare while he strips down and takes out a pair of underwear out of the top drawer of his dresser and steps into it, easy as pie. Suddenly you realize the sound that woke you up was the sound of Bobby flushing the toilet, and your blood turns hot. Mommy is busy unfolding a diaper and slipping it underneath your hips. “Mommy,” you ask. “When will I be ready to use the potty?” “Oh,” she says, pausing for just a moment. “Probably never.” She grabs the bottle of baby powder and dusts your privates with it. “But why?” You ask. “Because you’re just a baby.” Mommy says. “Babies don’t use the potty, do they?” Bobby used to be a baby. You know. You got here first. But for some reason, Bobby’s been allowed to grow up when you haven’t. Again. Grow up again. You already grew up once. It’s weird how you have to remind yourself lately. So much of your old life before Mommy feels like a dream; an elaborate fanfiction that you wrote yourself. Everything from before feels less real as Mommy spreads your legs and pulls the fresh, thick, poofy, crinkly diaper that prevents your knees from touching and forces you to walk with a waddle 24/7. It is only the first of the day. It will not be the last. You can’t remember the last time you got to wear underwear; real underwear; the kind that couldn’t be seen from space. It was only an academic memory by this point. You lift your head up to examine the decorations of the diaper Mommy just put you in. It has balloons on the front. The one you woke up in had pictures of sleeping kitty cats. Depending on what Mommy feels like, you might find yourself in a diaper decorated with nursery rhyme characters or one with fishes swimming. You don’t even get to decide your diaper decorations! Meanwhile, Bobby would get to wear those jungle safari themed undies all day long. “Oh!” you gasp. “Mommy! I remember what I was dreaming about?” “Oh?” She chuckles, “What was your dream, baby?” She undoes the strap and helps you sit up. Your thoughts suddenly feel as crisp as the new padding wrapped around your hips. “I was on safari!” you exclaim. “I was hunting big game!” “That sounds nice,” Mommy says, pulling your sleep shirt up over your head. “What game? Checkers?” “No!” You correct her. “Like I was shooting animals and stuff! Lions and tigers and bears!” “Oh my!” Mommy replies. “Are you sure you were on safari? Maybe you were just dreaming about going to the zoo?” “I’m sure,” you say. Bobby has already gotten dressed and walked away. You’re still nude except for the padding. “It was awesome!” Talking about your dreams was one of the few things you could freely do. “Was I there?” Mommy asked. “No,” you proudly exclaim. “Just me.” “But if you were in the jungle hunting animals,” Mommy teases, “who would be there to change your diaper?” That was the best part about the dream! About all your dreams! “I wasn’t…!” Except you were. You immediately remember the dream. You picture yourself wearing a helmet. A pith helmet, you think it’s called. And one of those khaki button up shirts that people always wore in the cartoons and movies. Boots too. But between the shirt and the boots, was your diaper. Just your diaper. No pants. No belt. Nothing. And right beside you, holding your hand, was Mommy. Even in your dreams you couldn’t get out of diapers. Even asleep you were with your Mommy. There was no escape. No freedom, even in your subconscious. A terrible melancholy comes over you. Were you ever actually an adult? Or have you just been fooling yourself with your dreams and they’re now finally telling you the truth about yourself. “So,” Mommy says. “What do you want to wear today?” “I don’t know,” you mumble, trying not to sob. “I’m just a baby. You pick, please.” “Of course, baby,” Mommy smiles. “Of course.”

What started as a silly short story has now become something a little grander. Pick Your Battles is now a series of short-stories about real-life events. That is, these things actually HAPPENED. I live with my girlfriend who has just gotten into little stuff last year when we started dating. (I call her Mommy in the stories for simplicity, but I usually call her Big Sis when we do ageplay stuff). I also live with two other littles, my co-author @Pudding and my close friend @ChloeNova! So yeah, these are the antics we get up to. ALSO @bbykimmy will be contributing to this series with her own real-life stories, centered mostly around her and her partner of fifteen years! (Like me, she's going to be calling her partner Mommy for simplicity.) Make sure to Like/Comment! And enjoy! ~Sophie ------------------------------------------------ Pick Your Battles: Episode 1 (Or: Kimmy is a brat and got me in trouble!) By Sophie “Hey. I’m talking to you.” I blinked, looking up from my phone. I had been distracted the whole car ride home from work and Mommy wasn’t too happy about it. “Sorry. What were you saying?” I put my phone down for exactly one second, then glanced at it again. Another message. I opened it up and started to reply when Mommy plucked the phone out of my hands. “Hey!” “No.” One of her sharp, aggressive ‘No’s. The kind that made my heart race. “You have been talking to this girl all day and you can’t make two minutes for me?” “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “Now, like I was saying,” she went on, but all I could think about was my phone in her hand. “We have to shower if you want to stay up late tonight and play video games. You want that, don't you?” “Fine, okay. Give me-” “After we shower,” she cut me off. I puffed out my cheeks and crossed my arms over my chest. “At least let me say goodbye.” “No,” she said again. That harsh, certain ‘No’. I had to pick my battles, and this wasn’t the right one. Mommy unlocked my phone - her thumb had been set to my fingerprint scanner the day I got it - and typed something out. My heart raced, my eyes wide. “Hey, what are you telling her?!” “That’s not the business of a little girl, is it?” “I… I’m not…” She set my phone down on the bed, but when I reached for it, she took my hand. ‘Pick your battles,’ I reminded myself. Mommy always kept the water too warm in the shower. It took me five minutes to adjust to the temperature and another five to wash and condition my hair. As per our routine, I soaped her up with body wash, paying particular attention to her breasts and between her legs. She was the kind of girl who loved to be clean and I was the kind of girl who was a bit of a pervert. It worked for the both of us. I thought that was the end of it; I’d completely forgotten about my phone. But after rinsing off, she didn’t grab the body wash. She wrapped her fingers in my hair and pushed me down to my knees. They collided with the hard tub and I looked up at her with pain and confusion. “What are-” But I never finished my question. I never had to. She pulled on my hair until my face was against her crotch, lifting her leg onto the edge of the tub basin. “If you can’t lend me an ear when I’m talking,” she said over the sound of the running water, “then I’ll use your tongue instead.” Her fingers tightened in my hair and I let out a quiet yelp. I knew what she expected. I knew not to misbehave. ‘Pick your battles’, right? So I touched my lips to the skin between her legs. She moved me where I needed to be, as if I was too inept to figure it out on my own. It was no more than five minutes later that she stood me up on shaky legs. My eyes were glossy and my cheeks were on fire. She advanced on me until my back hit the tiled shower walls, until she could hover her lips only a centimeter from mine. I leaned in for a kiss, but she held us apart. “No,” she said again. That simple word, with so much power. I thought I would melt into a puddle and swirl down the drain. For the rest of the shower, I didn’t speak. She washed me. I let her put her fingers wherever she wanted. Then, she wrapped me in my big blue towel and pulled me back into our bedroom. I saw my phone on the bed. I looked up at her and then down at my feet. Could I pick it up? Would I be in more trouble? Or was this finally over? But before my quiet contemplation could become action, she spoke. “Come here.” It was that same tone as the ‘No’s. The sort of thing that told me it was very much not over. She sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but her towel, draped around her neck. Mine was still wrapped around my chest, preserving my modesty. I pensively walked toward Mommy, and as soon as I was within reach, she grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me down over her lap. The action was so fast, so unexpected, that I didn’t have time to think. While she fussed with the towel, lifting it up to expose my bottom, I tried to catch my breath. “No, no, no! Wait a second!” She didn’t wait a single second. Her hand came down hard on my ass and I winced as the sound echoed through the room. A second smack on the other cheek. But Mommy was never very intense with spankings - this would pass in no time. I knew how to pick my battles. The third spank came down on warm, pink skin. The fourth did the same on the other cheek. And by the time I had counted ten in my head, my winces had turned into audible whines. I kicked my feet and shook side to side on her lap, burying my face in the blankets. “Please, stop… please, I’m sorry…” Another spanking. Two. Three. Four. She hadn’t spanked like this in a long time. My will was breaking. “I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I’m a good girl!” “A good little girl?” she asked, before the echo of another spanking rang through the room. I was out of breath. “Y-yes… a good little girl… please…” “And good little girls don’t ignore their Mommies when they are talking, right?” Her hand came down on my sore bottom and I whimpered involuntarily. I nodded my head in a panic. Her hand moved off my bottom and I flinched, waiting for the shock and pain. But it hesitated. I thought maybe she was done. Just when the inkling of hope filled me up, it was shattered by another spanking. I was burning out… “You are going to lay on this bed and you will not move until I say otherwise.” Her offer felt like cold water over my red, burning ass. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t argue. If I did, she’d spank me again. This was my chance to escape more punishment. I had to pick my battles, and this wasn’t one I could win. “Y-yes Mommy…” “Say it.” “I’ll be a good girl-” “Good little girl,” she interrupted, with emphasis. Jeeze, this was embarrassing… “…good little girl… and stay on the bed ’til you say so…” She rubbed my bottom once, as a show of good faith, and climbed out from under the towel between us. I was exhausted. I couldn’t move. My butt ached but my pride ached more. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. It was over, I reminded myself. But Mommy was going to make sure, for the rest of the night, I knew my place. I heard the crinkling before I saw the diaper in her hands. White, simple. Easy to check if I was wet, she liked to say. I rolled over - naked without the towel - and scampered the other side of the bed. “I don’t need that!” “You said you were a little girl,” Mommy reminded me. “But that doesn’t mean I wear…” I blushed scarlet. This wasn’t fair! “Do you want to play video games?” I looked up at her with suspicion. What was she getting at? “Well?” “…yes,” I muttered. “And where are you going to do that?” “On the sofa…” I felt like I was walking toward a trap. “You’ll sit on the sofa?” she continued. I nodded. “Then wouldn’t it make more sense to have some padding on your sore bottom?” “But I don’t need-” “I didn’t say you did,” she cut me off. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” …it did make sense. I pouted and crossed my arms over my breasts. Damnit… “Well?” she asked. “…fine,” I muttered, and slid further down the bed. She pulled my ankles so my open legs fell on either side of her as she unfolded the diaper. I looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment, trying to hold onto the thought that I was a big girl. Trying to hold onto the feeling that I was a big girl. But the second that diaper was aligned under my raw behind, the feeling slipped away. She doused me in baby powder, rubbing it into my skin with the palm of her hand. When she was done, she tapped me on the nose with her index finger, leaving the scent of baby powder heavy and inescapable. My eyes glossed over as I settled into the bed. My muscles relaxed. My mind clouded over with thick, white clouds. The feelings of being a big girl were long gone. Mommy taped the diaper up between my legs and stood me up on my feet. She popped a pacifier between my lips and kissed me on the forehead. Maybe I should have stopped her. Maybe I should have thrown a tantrum or taken off the diaper. But if I tried, I’d only get punished again. Worse, this time. No, I should let her win this one. I had to pick my battles. [End] ------------------------- Thank you for reading! Please Like or Comment to show support! I also have a Patreon!