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

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