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Done Adulting, Volume 1 (Now available on Amazon with a preview of Volume 2)


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30 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

I'm just wondering why Amanda and Becky would even take a bottle of breast milk if they didn't want to nurse him. 

Because, as was hinted there, Becky wishes she could nurse him. These Amazons may be more evolved, but per the canon, they still have that powerful mothering instinct.

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12 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

Yes but they should know it can cause problems that Jamie may not like and become addictive.

I just don't see Jamie not liking it, is it addictive to share a bond with someone na it's not a drug. It's a bond of mother and child nothing's more special then that. Once you've have experienced it nothing will compare.

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7 minutes ago, Shawnie said:
18 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

Yes but they should know it can cause problems that Jamie may not like and become addictive.

I just don't see Jamie not liking it, is it addictive to share a bond with someone na it's not a drug. It's a bond of mother and child nothing's more special then that. Once you've have experienced it nothing will compare.

I think he's talking about in most DD stories, Amazon breast milk is like a drug to Littles.

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8 minutes ago, Guilend said:

I think he's talking about in most DD stories, Amazon breast milk is like a drug to Littles.

Yeah, that's a valid issue. Sophie explored this at length in Exchanged.

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4 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

Exactly! Something that will be explored at a later date.

aging is mandatory  but growing up is optional I think someone here has it sigged :)

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Aheam. I have an announcement to make.

 

IT'S FRIDAY!!!!

 

Which excites me even though I haven't worked all week, which I guess is just social conditioning. To everyone who did work or go to school this week, enjoy your much earned Friday evening. Make good choices.

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Chapter 40

 

 

 

Playdate day cam mid-week, and Stacy picked up Ella and Jamie mid-morning. She took most of the day off for it, excited for Ella to have someone she could talk to and play with who was just like her, an unregressed little. Ella hadn’t had any contact other than written with a normal human since her rescue, and Stacy was sure it would be good for her.

 

 

Stacy had an unusual relationship with Ella. As a rescue, Ella had choices. She could have gone home, she could have stayed in Itali as an independent little supported by the state, or she could adopt herself out. For a year months after her rescue, as Ella underwent surgeries and recovered her ability to move on her own, slowly and with pain, she was a ward of the state. Complicating matters was the context of Ella’s presence in the dimension. Given what had happened to her and what choices she had available, the law was ambiguous on whether Ella was able to maybe any choice free of the coercion of her circumstances. Thus surrendering her rights by putting herself up for adoption did not necessarily square with either the spirit or letter of the law. It was a matter of interpretation up to the authorities of whether she was able to consent or not.

 

 

Arguing in favor of staying as a dependent little, as Ella saw her choices, were that she did not want to – indeed, was afraid to – go home; the knowledge that life as an independent little supported by the state would be difficult and alienating, leaving her dependent on an ad hoc network of social workers, medical professional, and what friends she could cobble together into a family; and the support – financial, emotional, physical – she could receive as an adopted little. The part of her brain that would never feel safe again also argued she was safer as someone’s little since guardianship conferred a layer of protection. But Ella was not interested in surrendering herself wholly into the arms of a big once more. She needed a big who was interested in Ella as a person, not just as a little, and who would respect the circumstances of Ella’s life in the dimension and her history before and since arriving in Itali.

 

 

A friend with the Administration for Littles within the Health Ministry initially approached Stacy about the prospect of taking Ella in. Stacy had expressed some interest to her friend in adopting a little, but some trepidation as well. The friend sold the idea to Stacy as being different in fact, if not legally, than a traditional big-little relationship. While she would be Ella’s guardian, their relationship would not neatly align with constructs like big-little or parent-child. But neither were they lovers, siblings, roommates, and they were obviously more than friends.

 

 

Ultimately, an arrangement was made by which Stacy would foster Ella on behalf of the state, and if after some period all three parties agreed to an adoption, Stacy would legally adopt Ella as her little, and whatever that meant in practice was between the two of them. What began as a caregiver relationship turned into a friendship and grew increasingly intimate until, for those who didn’t know better or didn’t see them when they were alone, appeared to be a typical big-little relationship, but in which Stacy granted Ella a good deal more autonomy for Ella to make her own decisions about herself, her body, her time, and the limitations of Stacy’s own authority.

 

 

Jamie only knew Stacy to look at. Stacy knew only what Ella told her about Jamie: he was unregressed, but he was fully and formally adopted.

 

 

“I borrowed a car seat from our neighbor, Jamie. I hope it fits well enough for you,” Stacy said as she buckled him in after she’d helped Ella in.

 

 

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he said. “Thank you.” The ride to Ella’s house was longer than the ride to his own. They passed out of the suburbs and into the exurbs. Their home was on a large piece of land, not large enough for a farm but large enough that they couldn’t see their neighbors from the driveway.

 

 

Jamie felt self-conscious being a guest in someone’s home, something he hadn’t done much of and not in these circumstances in a long time. He reminded himself to be on his best behavior. Ella took Jamie into their living room while Stacy made them lunch. The living room had a little-sized couch that Jamie was glad to sit on. Clambering up everything had lost its novelty.

 

 

“So,” Jamie asked, “What do you want to do after lunch?”

 

 

“It’ll be naptime, and then I don’t know.” Ella sat in a high chair for lunch while Jamie managed from a regular chair with a stack of books on it. Lunch was light and simple: bread, cheese, fruit, and some sliced, fresh meat. Jamie made sure to say thank you several times and tell Stacy how good it all was. When lunch was finished, Stacy sent the two of them to Ella’s room, promising shed be in shortly. The room surprised Jamie; Ella saw it on his face.

 

 

“Not what you expected?”

 

 

“Well, uh, I like it.”

 

 

Ella was sure he was just saying that. “You didn’t expect the nursery motif.”

 

 

“Well, no. I thought Stacy would have chosen …”

 

 

“I chose it. I like it this way.” Jamie noted the pink and the yellow and wallpaper with the cloud border under the crown molding, the strip of baby animal paper in lieu of a chair rail, a white glider chair, a mobile over the crib, and changing table much like his own. Jamie was surprised she’d choose to decorate it this way given she was unregressed and hadn’t chosen to be here.

 

 

At the same time, the room was also more like a studio apartment compared to Jamie’s. Her crib was bigger, she had a TV, and there was an en suite bathroom built to her size. Jamie was especially jealous of the bathroom. Just a sink he could get to without help would be nice.

 

 

“Alright, littles,” Stacy said when she came in, “Let’s see how well this works with two of you.” She was holding two bottles, which made both Ella and Jamie blush. She sat down in the glider, and Ella walked over to her. Stacy very gently lifted Ella and very gently set her back down on her lap. Jamie figured he should approach her as well, and she did the same, though she was gentler with him than she needed to be. She was used to Ella’s special needs. “Say ‘ahh,’” Stacy joked, and in a moment she had two littles drinking from two bottles while sitting on her thighs. Ella laid back right away, but Jamie didn’t feel comfortable doing that just yet. He leaned back a little but mostly supported his own weight. He didn’t want to presume.

 

 

“You okay there, Jamie,” Stacy asked. “You look a little uncomfortable.” He bashfully eased himself back, but not completely. The formula was a different brand than he was used to, but it had the same effect of making him feel fuzzy and sleepy. When each bottle was only half gone, Stacy removed them. “Let’s save a little in case you wake up thirsty during nap time.”

 

 

She set them both on the floor. “I don’t have PJs that will work for you, Jamie. Can you sleep in just a tee shirt?”

 

 

“Um, yes,” he said, not really wanting to be half naked with Ella, but not wanting to disagree with anything in Stacy’s house. She helped him out of his shoes and pants and turned to Ella, as usual wearing a dress. Stacy didn’t seem to think anything of it, and Jamie could sense would happen next, so he got out of the way and turned around.

 

 

Stacy set Ella in the crib and undressed her there, a safer place where Ella didn’t have to try to balance on one foot while Stacy helped her. From there, Stacy moved her to the changing table and put her into a clean diaper followed by pajama shorts and a top. When Jamie turned around, she in the crib with a pacifier in her mouth, much to his surprise. She was blushing again.

 

 

“Your turn,” Stacy said. She lifted him up onto the table, and Jamie once again felt himself blush as so few people, all of whom Jamie was close with now, had done this. With the changing table facing away from the crib, all Ella could see was the top of Jamie’s head, but if she had been able to see more, she wouldn’t have turned away. Modesty wasn’t a trait left in her after everything she had endured.

 

 

“At home Ella wears cloth diapers,” Stacy explained. “Do you want to give those a try?” Jamie didn’t want to refuse anything offered or dispute, and he also didn’t really care. He nodded. In a two minutes, Stacy had him pinned into two diapers with a soaker pad down the middle. She then threaded plastic panties up his legs and tucked the diapers in all around. When she picked him up, he could feel the much greater bulk between his legs and under his butt. It was nice in a way.

 

 

She set him in the crib saying, “I hope you two don’t mind sharing a crib. If you need anything, Jamie, the little monitor is on.” She went into a drawer and came up with a pacifier for Jamie. “You guys all set?”

 

 

“Mhmm,” Ella said.

 

 

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”

 

 

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am,” Stacy said with a laugh. “I’m not old.” She turned off the light and closed the door.

 

 

Jamie looked at Ella, red faced again, and she shrugged and laid down. Jamie would have liked to use the time to talk, though what about he wasn’t sure, but he followed suit and as soon asleep.

 

 

He woke up with his pacifier was in his mouth and his diapers were wet and felt much heavier than his regular diapers. He didn’t remember doing either of those things. More surprising was that Ella was so close to him. They hadn’t exactly been spooning, but if they’d been caught doing that at summer camp someone would have been calling both their parents.

 

 

Jamie looked Ella up and down. He was careful not to wake her up. She’d kicked the blanket off herself. She’d always been good looking, but what Jamie liked wasn’t that he was in bed with a woman but that he was in bed with a human. The almost-touch between them had an electric feeling to it that being in the same bed as Manda or being held by Mom didn’t have. This was a person his size, from the same world, from the same species, and the closest her had gotten to another human since Cheryl held his hand in the departure room.

 

 

He also saw her scares more than he had when she’d shown them to him. They were hard to look at not because they were ugly – they were quite clean and narrow, obviously done by competent surgeons – but because he knew how she came to have them. He saw goosebumps on her upper arm and reached for the blanket, pulling it gently back over her. Despite his efforts he woke her.

 

 

It startled him when she woke up and reached behind her before he realized she was awake. She found the little monitor and took the batteries out.

 

 

“Hey,” he said.

 

 

“Hey,” she responded, turning over to face Jamie and pulling the covers back over herself. “Now we can talk and she won’t think we’re ready to get up.”

 

 

“We’re not ready to get up?” He felt rested.

 

 

“We can, but this is private, right?” He saw her point. “I just thought you might like to not be interrupted. When was the last time you got to just talk with a person without being interrupted?”

 

 

“A long time.”

 

 

“Me too.”

 

 

“So …”

 

 

“So … how do you like the cloth diapers?” She was fishing for a topic.

 

 

“Um, I like them alright. I liked them more when they were dry. I think. But this isn’t bad.”

 

 

“It’s sort of like wearing real underwear, or feels like it at first because it’s cotton, and then not at all.”

 

 

“Yeah, definitely. Also your choice?”

 

 

“No, actually. Stacy wants to be more environmentally friendly. I only wear disposables when we leave the house.”

 

 

“Do you have a preference?”

 

 

“I like the cloth.”

 

 

“Hmm.”

 

 

“’Hmm?’”

 

 

“Yeah, just ‘hmm.’” There was an awkward pause.

 

 

“You’re wondering why she bottle fed and why I used a pacifier.” Jamie actually wasn’t. “Because I find them comforting and like bonding with Stacy that way, okay?”

 

 

“Okay,” Jamie said, “It’s the same reason for me. You don’t need to feel defensive about it.” There was another awkward pause.

 

 

“I drank breastmilk for the first time a couple days ago.”

 

 

“You’re being nursed now?”

 

 

“No, one of my Mom’s friends left me a bottle to try at our house.”

 

 

“I remember that stuff.”

 

 

“You’ve had it before.”

 

 

“Yeah, straight from the boob of a monster. But I do miss that stuff.” She got a funny look in her eye. “Makes me antsy thinking about it.”

 

 

“You don’t ever have it here? Amanda told me you can buy it from people.”

 

 

“I save it for special occasions. I like it a little too much, if you know what I mean.” He didn’t. “You know what little food is like? Think of that like a lighter synthetic version. Whatever is in there can be pretty addictive.”

 

 

“Is it bad for you? I’ve been figuring whatever is in little food has to be bad for you if it’s that good.”

 

 

“No, it’s actually good for you, but you do find yourself getting a little jones going if you don’t get it on a regular schedule. Think of it like sugar: addictive, not acutely dangerous, and when you want a cookie you want a goddam cookie.”

 

 

“I wonder what little cookies are like dipped in it.”

 

 

“That is exactly what I mean. You going to start getting it?”

 

 

“We talked about it, but we didn’t decide.”

 

 

“I’ll just say it’s better to have it on hand, if you know what I mean, then getting it from someone else.”

 

 

“I think I know what you mean,” he giggled.

 

 

“You’re still embarrassed by stuff like that, huh?”

 

 

“Well, yeah. You’re not?”

 

 

“Littles in most other countries aren’t given the courtesy of modesty and aren’t expected to give it, either. I’ve seen and been seen doing and having done to me just about everything except sex. Hard to embarrass me now.”

 

 

He smiled sheepishly at her. “I like this.”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“Just talking with you, being close to you.” He felt her foot touch his under the blanket. When he didn’t pull it away, she ran her foot up his leg a little higher.

 

 

“I get what you mean. It’s different somehow, than with Stacy or Carol.”

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

“I guess because we’re both humans. Like, your dog wants to snuggle with you, but they have an even more exuberant reaction to another dog.”

 

 

The more he looked at her, the more Jamie desperately wanted to touch her. “Do you wanna …” he said, his desire overcoming his fear.

 

 

“Just touch?” She sighed. “I was hoping you’d ask. I was afraid if I did it’d embarrass you or scare you away. He opened his arms and she inched closer to him so that they holding each other. “Wait,” she said. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”

 

 

That did make Jamie blush every shade of red, but he nodded assent. Without getting out from the covers, she managed to take her shirt and shorts off. “You can, too, if you want.” He shakily took off his tee shirt, and the two of them moved back in their loose embrace.

 

 

“Mmmmmm,” she said, “Human skin. I can’t believe how much I missed that.” Jamie acknowledged the same feeling, though he also knew it was a night-and-day comparison, his months to her years. She sighed deeply.

 

 

“Mhmm,” Jamie responded, getting a little lost in the sensation. He didn’t care it was Ella; it could have been any human he had some affection for or even any human he didn’t. It was a human, and that was all that mattered. He started feeling warm and light and comfortable and sleepy again.

 

 

When he woke up, Ella’s legs were intertwined with his own, and they had drawn close to one another, their bodies pressed together and hands around one another. Jamie realized his hand was on her thigh before he remembered to be embarrassed and concerned he unconsciously, literally, crossed a line. He moved it.

 

 

“What’d you do that for,” Ella asked, her voice muffled by the covers.

 

 

“Have you been awake this whole time?”

 

 

“No. Maybe five minutes.”

 

 

“We should get dressed before Stacy finds us this way.”

 

 

“We’re not doing anything wrong.”

 

 

“Yeah, but will she believe that?”

 

 

“Even if we told her we had acrobatic monkey sex she wouldn’t care. For one, we’re adults, and for another, pregnancy is not an issue with me.”

 

 

“Oh, sorry.” He felt very uncomfortable now.

 

 

“Don’t be.”

 

 

“Well, I’m not sure if I want to explain it to Mom, so I’d just as soon be found dressed if that’s okay.”

 

 

They got out from under the covers and found their clothes. Jamie blushed again when he smelled Ella’s diaper. He had never been in a room with her when she needed to be changed like that. In fact, had never been in a room where she was being changed, not in months of daycare. Ella noticed and surmised why.

 

 

“If you feel that weird about it you might as well poo your diaper, too. I know you do every afternoon around this time.” Now Jamie turned a deeper red. He wasn’t in a position to fault the logic. He turned away from her, then thought that was worse, then turned back toward her, realized that was worse, and then turned around again and did his business.

 

 

Ella put the batteries back in the monitor, saying, “It’s kinda like having a butler in a way.” She snapped the second battery in. “Hi Stacy, we’re ready to get up.” In less than a minute, Stacy was in the room. “Jamie wants to go first,” Ella said with a wicked grin on her face.

 

 

Jamie was legs up on the changing table before he knew it. This change was probably the most embarrassing since the first time he’d filled his diaper. A virtual stranger was cleaning him; someone was watching him; and he was excited, and unlike the time he’d been that way with Mel, this time he was fully aware of it. Stacy didn’t seem to notice, or if she did didn’t think anything of it. Ella did notice.

 

 

“Amanda is going to be here in like an hour and a half, so I’m going to put you into one of Ella’s disposables.” Fine by Jamie.

 

 

When they were both clean and Stacy had tended to their diapers in the bathroom, they went out to the living room again. Jamie was dressed, but Ella was still in her pajamas.

 

 

Stacy came out and said, “Yogi needs to go out. I hear you have a fear of dogs, Jamie. Is it okay if I bring him through here?”

 

 

“Uh, sure,” he said uneasily. In a moment, a black and brown eminence walked through the room with Stacy behind and waited patiently for her to open the front door. Jamie wished it was on a leash.

 

 

“You didn’t tell me you had a … dog.”

 

 

“He’s a therapy dog, and my pet. I was afraid you’d not want to come over.”

 

 

“That’s a little deceptive.”

 

 

“People wouldn’t keep them if they weren’t safe around littles and kids, Jamie. Besides, Yogi’s only 600 pounds. It’s not like she’s one of the working breeds. I’ll show when she comes back in.”

 

 

A few minutes later, there was scratching at the door. Jamie could see how a dog door was out of the question when Yogi was let back in. She followed Ella into the living room.

 

 

“Sit.” She sat. “See, Jamie. She follows directions.” Yogi sniffed Ella and rubbed her head on her. “She loves me. C’mon.”

 

 

Jamie reluctantly approached, figuring she was right and he did have to get over this, or at least get to a point where it didn’t bother him so much. “Lay down.” Yogi laid down so she was ‘only’ chest high to Jamie, belly high to the taller Ella.

 

 

Ella sat down in the crescent formed by the curl of Yogi’s body and pulled Jamie down with her. She gave Yogi’s coat a gentle tug. “See? She’s just a big Labrador. We could climb on her, pull on her tail, poke her in the eye – she’d just take it. You’re not saying anything,” Ella realized.

 

 

“It’s just … hard to get used to.”

 

 

“C’mere.” She leaned her back into Yogi, who only moved her eyebrows, and Jamie slowly did the same. Yogi turned to sniff him and then went back to resting her huge head on the carpet.

 

 

“I bet cleaning up after her in the yard is a real treat,” he joked.

 

“Can’t be nearly as bad as changing our diapers,” she retorted. 

 

When Amanda arrived to pick him up, she was surprised to find the two of them talking leaning against what was to her a dog. She and Jamie both thanked Stacy and Ella profusely and went home.

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On 4/19/2019 at 11:47 PM, Author_Alex said:

Which excites me even though I haven't worked all week, which I guess is just social conditioning. To everyone who did work or go to school this week, enjoy your much earned Friday evening. Make good choices.

Another great chapter, I said a while back that Ella was my favoruite character and she has not dissapointed thus far.

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I feel I am being redundant, but this is another lovely chapter. It's good to learn more about Ella, though I'd have liked a little more conversation between them; she's still a bit of a mystery. It's so good that he has a human friend though. 

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12 minutes ago, kerry said:

I feel I am being redundant, but this is another lovely chapter. It's good to learn more about Ella, though I'd have liked a little more conversation between them; she's still a bit of a mystery. It's so good that he has a human friend though. 

Sames

?

 

Also I'd honestly wouldn't mind Ella's life although again I'd prefer being kept closer to primary or secondary age

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17 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

Sames

?

 

Also I'd honestly wouldn't mind Ella's life although again I'd prefer being kept closer to primary or secondary age

When she was with her the people who bout her from the slavers she was after taken by rescuers? or after she

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13 minutes ago, Sarah Penguin said:

When she was with her the people who bout her from the slavers she was after taken by rescuers? or after she

After.....

I must what I've seen about her and Sarah.... ?

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Very short update because I'm not ready for bed yet. Picking up right where this leaves off tomorrow.

____________________________________________

Chapter 41 Part 1

 

 

 

Dear Cheryl,

 

Have you ever felt like you’ve changed in every way but on the inside? Like your identity has been tied to one part of you for so long, that when you stop being that thing, you never stop being that thing? That’s me now. And I can’t tell which I am, the thing I always was or the thing I seem to be now. I don’t trust change. I don’t trust that change that comes so fast can be permanent. I don’t know how time aligns between here and home, or home and there, but we first met a year ago. Can you believe that? That’s what marks adulthood, when a year stops being long.

 

 

 

The leaves are changing here, Cheryl. Just like home. All those dark and bright shades of green giving way to reds and yellow and purples and oranges, those brilliant colors. They harvested the grapes not long ago, and the leaves on the vines are changing to, neat rows of vines, a rank and file of flora freed from the weight of fruit, the nearly invisible yeast on the berries waiting for the skin to break to turn juice into wine. Those brilliant leaves that filter sunlight like a prism will soon turn to greys and browns and fall to the harvested earth, itself bright browns and dull browns and tans not long ago invisible under golden grass pulled from the ground to get the cows and the sheep through winter.

 

 

 

I have something in my life I never had before: touch. I lectured a hundred parents about touch. How it helps a baby grow. How it heals. How it communicates. How it helps us thrive. I never had touch, not in any sustained way. I do now. Gentle touch. I knew so much about what a neglected baby was missing out on. I never thought to wonder what I was missing out on. I do know there’s literature on touch how it helps adults. I just think nobody cares. They do care here, whatever we really are to them, they do care here.

 

 

 

I still don’t know what we are to them. No one seems to be able to explain it without resorting to analogies with pets, children or the cognitively disabled. The latter two work if you’re a regressed little, but so far as I can tell, the best answer to fit me is I’m seen as less than a fully functional adult because I consented to it. The tautology doesn’t make any sense, and I’ve reached the point where, rather than try to arrive at an acceptable answer I’m now trying to decide whether to resent the way I’m viewed or accept it. One thing I learned a long time ago is you can argue over right or wrong for only so long before, if you’re smart enough, you realize the struggle that makes sense is over how to incorporate the fact. I tried hard to do both, and now look where I am.

 

 

 

Someone called me on that the other day. Flat out asked if being here as an unregressed little wasn’t just ridiculous. It’s hard exactly to explain, but if you saw me today you’d understand. I don’t know how to explain those things about me. I felt ashamed when he said it, and then I remembered what mattered was incorporating the fact of what is into my life, not battling with the right or wrong of it. But there’s much I haven’t told you, and in truth, things we didn’t discuss as possibilities that came to pass, and though I made my peace with them, I’ve yet to make peace with explaining them to you.

 

 

 

I still wonder what I’ve done to deserve all this love, but deserve is probably the wrong concept. Deserve never did have much to do with anything. I’ve just been at the home of someone who didn’t have a caseworker in that dimension. No, deserve doesn’t mean much.

 

 

 

So think on fortune instead. My good fortune that you were my caseworker.

 

 

 

Cheryl, these letters are getting more and more difficult to write. The distance of space and time is befuddling. I suppose I’ll end this letter with what I know.

 

 

 

I remembered the last time I held a human hand in tenderness before today, and it was yours.  

 

 

 

Your forever friend,

 

Jamie

 

 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

“Knock knock,” Amanda said as she came into Jamie’s room. “Dinner time.”

 

 

“Hey, Amanda.”

 

 

“What were you up to?”

 

 

“Writing a letter.”

 

 

Amanda didn’t like it when he wrote letters, not because she resented him communicating with his caseworker, whatever the two of them had going on between them, but because Jamie never seemed happier for having done it. She wanted to understand in the hope that she or her mom could help, but she didn’t want to push the subject, and she knew there might be no helping. Still, she wouldn’t be much of a sister or friend if she didn’t try. But for now all she could do was see that Jamie had come home in a good mood and was not in half as good a mood now.

 

 

“I’ll mail it for you when it’s done.”

 

 

“It’s done.”

 

 

“K. I’ll put it in the mailbox before bed.” He set the letter down. He looked at it on the table for a moment and held up his arms. The kitchen was fifty steps away, but he wanted to spend those few seconds close to someone.

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6 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

He set the letter down. He looked at it on the table for a moment and held up his arms. The kitchen was fifty steps away, but he wanted to spend those few seconds close to someone.

 

This is so sad and beautiful.

I'm surprised to discover just how confused Jamie still is. When he writes in his letter that he is "trying to decide whether to resent the way I’m viewed or accept it" and wonders about whether he "deserves" to be treated this way, I shed tears for him. And when Amanda notes that he is always more melancholy after writing to Cheryl, well...I almost want him to stop. It's as if, when he picks up a pen, he almost forgets about the good things in his life like his family. He's overwhelmed with somber reflection; he doesn't really provide news to her as much as he just lets himself wander into the gloom. I didn't realize he still has this much gloom within him. Most of the time, he seems to be enjoying the love and attention, even if it is also rather strange. Maybe, as he suggests in the letter, he's just embarrassed to tell her that? That might explain the tone his letters take: as he felt after the rude neighbor spoke to him, he is wrestling with whether he's "supposed" to enjoy this new life instead of just giving in to it. I'm with Amanda, though: I feel terrible for him whenever he gets this introspective.

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@kerry, it strikes me that Jamie is more fragile and less resilient than when he arrived. What seems to be different is he has a support network that makes up for it, which is good for him, but there are certain things he has to figure out.

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37 minutes ago, Author_Alex said:

@kerry, it strikes me that Jamie is more fragile and less resilient than when he arrived. What seems to be different is he has a support network that makes up for it, which is good for him, but there are certain things he has to figure out.

Yes I see that. And BTW it's a great tribute to your writing that I care so much for him. I rarely get so caught up in these stories, even the ones I like a lot.

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I love how poetic he gets when writing his letters!  I feels good to know that he's still not regressed.  I'll be honest to admit that it makes me nervous when Jamie seems to be regressing naturally,  like Rose.  I mean,  I certainly want him at ease with his situation,  but not like Rose,  though I do love her character! 

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Chapter 41 Part 2

Dinner was pasta and squash soup. Jamie liked the salty, roasted seeds sprinkled over the velvet broth.

“So did you have fun with Ella,” Becky asked.

“Yeah, we just took a nap together and talked.”

“In the same crib?”

“Yes ... is that not okay?”

“No, that’s just cute is all.”

“What’s their house like?”

“It’s on a big lot. Ella has a pretty cool room. She has a dog.”

“Uh oh. Were you okay with that?”

“Yeah, she showed how nice she is. She’s Ella’s therapy dog. Yogi.”

“We can get a dog if you want.” Amanda’s fork flattered to her plate.

“Seriously, Mom? I’ve wanted a dog since I was five years old. He gets to have one? He doesn’t even like them.”

“Well, maybe I’m just mellowing with age, Amanda.”

“Sorry,” Jamie said. He didn’t want one.

“Don’t be sorry, buddy,” Amanda said. It wasn’t his fault she was still dog-less, or that he could make their mom do something she didn’t want to do much more easily than she could.

“I do like,” Jamie had to remember the word from their trip to the zoo, “bruins, though. I never had one growing up.”

“You mean the tiny things you played with at the zoo?”

“They’re not so tiny to me.”

“Well, maybe,” Becky said. “What did you think of the milk Jane left here?” Becky wasn’t very subtle sometimes.

“Uh, I liked it.”

“We can switch to that instead of formula.” Jamie was unsure. He was wary of what Ella had told him.

“What does it do to littles?”

“Well, you’ll just like it a lot.”

“Is that all?”

“It will probably make your diapers a little messier to clean up, but Amanda and I discussed that, and we don’t mind.”

Just when life couldn’t get sillier, here they were having the weirdest conversation of many, many weird conversations.

“It’s a bit of a diuretic. And mild laxative,” Amanda said. “Not uncomfortably so, though. It’s very gentle on little’s tummies.”

“Which wouldn’t be a bad thing for you,” Becky added. “Most littles go a lot more than you do. I’ve been meaning to talk to the doctor about it.”

“I don’t feel sick,” he said, “I always go once a day. That’s normal for humans.” He did note, though, that he was peeing much more frequently than his pre-diaper day’s, but only because he just went whenever he needed to, even if it was just a little nit.

“Well, all the little books here says that’s not enough.” But all the little books here are based on bullshit ideas about how our bodies work, Jamie thought. Still, going more often didn’t seem like it mattered. He was comfortable with that part of his life for the most part because he was able to time it to when he could be changed in relative privacy. It had stopped being a big deal. As for it being addictive, there was no specific reason why something being addictive was also bad.

“Now addictive is it, exactly?”

“Nothing you couldn’t get past in a week if you wanted to stop.” There was silence at the table. Everyone was about done with their dinner. “So do you want to give it a try?”

Jamie thought of how good it felt in the moments before he fell asleep. It didn’t just taste good; it felt good, like a shock of pleasure hormones channeled like a shot of electricity through his body.

“Yes, I’d like to try it. But just try it, not, like forever, unless we all like it.”

“Good,” Becky said. “Do you have a preference between the two of us?”

Jamie’s eye turned to saucers. “Excuse me?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I don’t ...”

“Mom’s saying she can do it or at can do it or both if that’s what you prefer.”

“I thought we were talking about buying it,” Jamie said. He felt his toes blushing.

“That gets a little expensive, and everyone says it’s not as good.”

“Um ...” He’d just naturally assumed they meant buying it, or maybe even Jane supplying some. Jamie wasn’t sure he still wanted to do this, but both Amanda and his mom were smiling like they were so excited, and now Jamie also had to choose which of them would be the one to do it. He was afraid to ask if they were talking about bottling it for him or him nursing. And in choosing he was afraid he’d hurt someone’s feelings.

“I don’t want to decide.”

“Both of us then,” Amanda said right away. Becky laughed. Jamie was confused.

“Why did you offer me a choice then?”

“Because you’re so close to both of us, and we weren’t sure who you’d be most comfortable with,” Amanda said.

The question of co pmfort helped Jamie to understand they weren’t talking about bottles. Jamie wasn’t sure he was comfortable with either, much less his Big sister, but she clearly wanted to, and so did Becky. He didn’t want either of them to feel left out or that he had a favorite.

“Won’t hurt your dating life either,” Becky joked.

Jamie caught her meaning and asked, “What happened to Miles anyway? No particular reason I’m asking.” Becky smiled at him.

“We went out twice and decided we didn’t feel a spark.”

Good, thought Jamie. He didn’t like Miles, not for any of the 90 seconds he’d known him. Maybe he could help find Amanda a boyfriend. Or not.

“I think it’s bath time for little boys,” Becky said.

“I got it, Mom. Leave the dishes, too. I’ll take care of them later.” She wanted to talk to Jamie.

In the bathroom, Amanda stripped Jamie down to his diaper and giggled. “You’re wearing girl diapers,” she said.

“So! I bet they’re prettier than yours were.”

“I just meant they’re cute is all. Are they comfy?”

“They feel like the other ones. She used cloth, too,” he added. She lifted him into the filling tub.

“What were those like?”

“Comfortable. They hug everything real tight, but they’re not as comfortable when here wet.”

“We could try them sometimes.”

“I’d rather not wash my clothes in the same washing machine as those.”

“Fair point.”

“Do you really want a bruin?”

“Meh. Sorta, but don’t feel strongly about it.”

“And you’re really okay with nursing from us?”

“Well ... It’s kinda weird. No, actually really weird.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s ... that was really good. You don’t have to, either. I mean, if you don’t want to I really don’t mind. I know it’s a lot of effort.”

“But we do want to. There’s a lot we get from it, too. Almost every Big with a little does it.”

“Really?”

“Just ... whatever makes us so attached to you guys.”

“There’s only one of me and two of you.”

“We usually only produce as much as you need, but if we do produce more we can always donate it or sell it. I could certainly use the money. Mostly to buy you presents but also for grad school.”

“Hmm.”

“You seemed a lot happier when I picked you up today. What gives?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that’s not true. You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like it if you would, and I think it might make you feel better. It’s about Cheryl, isn’t it?”

Jamie was having a hard enough time articulating to himself exactly what was bothering him. He wasn’t sure if he was blowing the entire thing up in his head to more than it had ever been. What were they? Jamie loved her, and everything around that time had been so intense he wasn’t sure the nature of the love. Was he in love with her? He doubted it, if only because he didn’t think he’d have left if he had. And what was he to her? Was she in love with him? He felt already like he’d betrayed her, and now he was afraid he’d break her heart on top of it.

“I think we grew apart.”

“How so?”

“I think the last time we’re together and the first time we communicated since everything was just so extreme. I’m not sure what we were to each other when I left, and I can’t ask her, and I don’t want to hurt her. It feels like a breakup and I’m not even sure if we were in a relationship.”

Amanda had no ready advice to fix that conundrum, nor was she sure how she felt about his caseworker having gotten so close to him. He knew they were close, but that it bordered on romantic.

“Did she say anything when she last wrote to you along those lines?”

“No. I ... it’s hard to say someone is important to you and that you can’t do without them and you love them so much when they’re not really a part of your life. It takes so long to get a letter through. I dunno. I guess I feel like ... I feel like a world class prick just saying it. I feel like I’ve moved on.”

“Maybe you haven’t moved on so much as grown apart.”

“What if she hasn’t? It always felt like in our letters we were going out of our way to not say something.”

“All I can say is don’t borrow trouble. If neither of you ever said otherwise, maybe you’re right and just how high emotions were running when you left and you’re just very close friends. Try not to worry about how she feels if you don’t even know there’s a reason to worry.”

“Yeah ...”

“Do you still feel like your friends?”

“I’m ... I’m starting to feel like we’re friends. Like we’d be friends again if we were to together but that were too far apart.”

“What do you write about to her?”

He shrugged. “How I’m feeling, what I’m thinking.”

“How about you hold on to the letter you wrote for now, and try writing one about what you’re doing instead. Keep it light and friendly.”

“What will that do?”

“Give both of you some room to see what it’s like when you’re relationship isn’t so much about sharing emotional baggage.”

“I’m not ...”

“I know you, James Patrick. If you’re writing about thoughts and feelings exclusively, your letters are not light and friendly, and that may make it difficult for her to be light and friendly with you.”

“I’m not sure I want to tell her about these things.”

“I’d be surprised if there was anything in your life right now that she didn’t know was a strong possibility when you came here.”

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53 minutes ago, Author_Alex said:

Amanda stripped Jamie down to his diaper and giggled. “You’re wearing girl diapers,” she said.

“So! I bet they’re prettier than yours were.”

“I just meant they’re cute is all. Are they comfy?”

That's funny. I like how she ignores his comment about how the diapers she "used" to wear looked and then in just a sentence or two she changes the subject lol.

Now that Jamie brought it up. I wonder what her diapers looked like. Where they baby cute or just plain? Talking about cute, i wonder if she still used a paci when she was a bed wetter and i wonder if she ever woke up, either in the morning or during the night needing to go poop. If so i wonder if she ever just used her diaper. Or would her mom punish her for doing that? I don't think so, Becky seems to me the kind of patent that would tell her duaghter to just use her diaper since they were made for that too. Lol the things i think about. I honestly don't care if any of those questions get answers, I'm just writting what's going on in my head while i read your story. 

When it comes to DD stories i have a confession. I mostly read them, especially one's with male Littles just to see if an Amazon female wears diapers. There are only a few, including this one, that i start out reading it just for that reason and end up really enjoying it and even getting a connection to the characters. I love this story no matter what happens with Amanda and her "past" bedwetting.

Talking about bedwetting, it usually hiritiary. Was her mother a bedwetter? If so then i can only imagine what her horrible mother did to her to punish her, from spankings to treating her like a "Little" as her mother viewed them. It would explain why Becky couldn't stand up to her until her own Little was threatened. I also bet her mother never knew her granddaughter was a bedwetter. Great, here i go again lol.

I'll shut up now. I love this story. Good job.

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And, boom.

_____________________

Chapter 41 Part 3

 

Jamie was in his PJs ready for bed when Becky came in and found him sitting in his chair reading a book. He hadn’t heard the shower running, and it was too early for her to be going to bed, so only thought for a moment why she was wearing a robe before he figured it out on his own.

 

“Uh, hi, Mom. Nice robe. Can I stay up late and read? I just got a to a really part in this book, and frankly, who can sleep when there’s stuff happening in this book about things? I’ll tell you who can’t? Me. That’s who. Speaking of me …”

 

“It’s okay, honey. Let’s take it very slow.” She gently took the book from Jamie’s hands and set it down, then lifted him under the arms and sat down in the rocking chair. She felt him trembling and said nothing, only wrapping her arms around him as she placed him on her shoulder and rubbed his back, shushing into his ear. “Let’s just be quiet for a while.”

 

Jamie was frightened. Of what, he wasn’t sure. This step, and what it meant for him, weren’t clear to him. Was it just food? He’d taken to the bottle well enough and looked forward to his formula. It didn’t just taste good; it also made him feel good, a sort of liquidy, loose, mellow feeling waring his belly and spreading out everywhere. It made him calm when he was anxious and sleepy when he was ready for bed. This wasn’t a product off a shelf, though. This was taking from someone he knew who was sacrificing for him, even if she did want to do it for reasons Jamie understood only in theory. That in itself was intimate enough. But this? It was too much, but he couldn’t back out, or so he thought, because he didn’t want to disappoint Mom or Manda. A tear ran down his cheek, and he sniffed.

 

“Don’t be afraid, baby boy,” she cooed in his ear. “Everything is going to be good. I promise.” He’d stopped trembling, but only because his body had run out of adrenaline, something it had been running through too fast to keep up for the last half year. Becky shifted him to her lap, carefully sweeping his legs so he was sitting comfortably looking at her.

 

“I’m going to start taking some supplements tomorrow to help change the hormones in my body to produce milk, and you’re going to need to help that along by suckling even before then, okay baby?”

 

Jamie swallowed, dry mouthed, and nodded in a jerking, uncertain way. “How about I open my robe now?” He nodded again. He’d have had difficulty speaking even if he knew what to say. Becky unfolded on side of her robe, exposing a bare breast. She looked from it to Jamie, who looked from it to everywhere else in the room that wasn’t it or Becky’s eyes. “There,” she said. “See? Just a body part.” She sat patiently until Jamie looked at it for more than a split second.

 

“Give me your hand, baby.” She took his hand more than he gave it to her, his fingers trembling again, and he let her guide it to her breast. She placed his hand on her and laid her own hand over his. It was soft and warm. She left her hand on his for what felt like ten minutes but was only one, then slowly slid their hands over to her nipple. Jaime’s breath became shallow. “Don’t be afraid,” Becky said in the voice she used to soothe him. “See? You have them, too.” She poked him gently on the chest. Jamie’s inner monologue began babbling.

 

It’s just a breast. It’s just a breast. Your mom’s breast. That’s all. Your mom’s. Wait – why the fuck does that make it better? Because you’re 30, not 1; that should make it worse. But I’m not a 30-year-old adult. I’m a little. Little do these things. It will be worth it. Don’t think of her as your mom. Think of her as a cow. No, bad idea. Very, very bad idea. She’s your mom. She’s your mom, and moms do these things with their littles. Am I a little, really? You can be if you just shut up and go with the flow for once in your life. Ha – ‘flow.’ Good pun; bad timing. Also, that thing is huge. One swing and she’ll knock me unconscious. You should be focusing on the task at hand. Which is? Feeling up your mom. Stop that! You’re just a little, getting used to this new aspect of littleness. Not a big deal. You’ll like this. When have you not liked something they’ve introduced after you gave it a try? Diapers. But really? You really still think you dislike that? Now’s not the time to discuss that. She’s saying something. You should listen to her. Her hand is on your shoulder. This seems very relevant. Shut up already!

 

“Huh,” Jamie asked?

 

“I said do you want to try now?”

 

“Try …”

 

“Suckling.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“We can wait until later if you’re not ready.”

 

“No, uh, okay.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Uh, yes, uh huh.” She smiled and moved the hand that was on Jamie’s shoulder to around Jamie’s shoulder, and her other one moved under his hip until she was cradling him and bringing him closer and closer to her nipple. So quickly, it was right in front of Jamie’s face. He wasn’t sure who was staring at who.

 

“Ready?” Jamie swallowed in response. She shifted her arms again until one was passively holding him up and the other was guiding his head the remaining inch his lips met her breast.

 

The first thing he noticed was her smell was more intense, but then he had never had his nose buried in the bare skin of her chest before. The second was that it was even softer against his face than in his hand. The last was that he couldn’t see much else. Becky patiently waited, rubbing his back.

 

Just do it, Jamie told himself. He opened his mouth, and her nipple, which seemed to him stiffer by the nanosecond, instance filled it. She tasted, well, like skin, with its hint of salt but not much else. He compared it to his pacifier, and this felt, to his surprise, more natural and more soothing. His pacifier was room temperature. She was warm. His pacifier never felt exactly the right size. She did. His tongue moved forward and probed it. It was firm and soft at the same time.

 

Carefully, mindful of his teeth, he pressed her nipple upward between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, just like he did with is bottle, and tentatively began to rhythmically suck. IT was easier than sucking on this bottle. Behind Becky’s nipple was Becky, not a vacuum, and as he sucked her nipple remained the shape it was. It was easier than his bottle. He became more enthusiastic.

 

On Becky’s side of their union, the sensations were different and knew and very old. The warmth and wetness of his mouth. The gentle pressure of his tongue. The tug-tug-tug of his suckling. She sighed as a warm glow descended over her. She was proud of her Jamie, both because he overcame his trepidation but also because her little was a natural at this. She absentmindedly began to zone out, her empty hand finding its way to his bottom and gently patting his diaper. She felt the chemical rush of oxytocin bathing her brain in contentment, and she liked it very much.

 

Jamie found his mouth seemed to get tired, and after perhaps ten minutes, he pulled away, embarrassed at how much saliva was on his face and her breast. He looked up to see Becky staring down at him with a very big grin.

 

“Does my Jamie-Wamie like that? Huh? Did you like that? Did you like that? Huh? Is you mama’s bestest boy? Yes, you are. You are mommy’s bestest boy.”

 

Jamie’s response to her sudden baby talk and the high, almost pinched tone of her voice was to … laugh. Only after they had both had a moment did they each realize something weird and unexpected had just happened. Their mutual embarrassment gave way to a placid feeling, and Becky helped Jamie sit up before she closed her robe.

 

“How do you feel,” she asked.

 

“Good.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

“Sleepy.”

 

“It’s your bedtime” She picked Jamie up, patted and squeezed his diaper to make sure he was clean and dry, and placed him in his crib. He situated himself the way he wanted, with his bear in his arm and his pacifier, that inferior substitute, in his mouth, and Becky pulled his blankie over him, using the corner to wipe around his mouth.

 

“Thank you, baby.”

 

“Thank you, Mommy.”

 

“I’ll bring you a bottle of water. Sleep tight.” They both did.

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