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


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Love how they both felt protective during the Dr visit and the arrival party. The grandma interaction was awesome and definitely one of my favorite parts so far. Also Becky is doing a great job of being the mother and learning how he works. Good balance there. Looking forward to more!

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4 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

I’m glad it makes you happy. Writing it makes me happy, too.

Happy to hear that, and i hope that Jamie and Becky can finally be the baby and mommy , and he giving up to those boring diapers to use proper pampers herhheheheeh

 

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There are few stories I read that I become emotionally involved. I've read hundred and thousands of stories on this site and others.

Exchanged by BabySofia was one I became emotionally involved and now this is another. It's well written and I've enjoy it since the beginning. Keep it up. I look forward to the next chapter.

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1 hour ago, BigDiaperBaby said:

There are few stories I read that I become emotionally involved. I've read hundred and thousands of stories on this site and others.

Exchanged by BabySofia was one I became emotionally involved and now this is another. It's well written and I've enjoy it since the beginning. Keep it up. I look forward to the next chapter.

What a wonderful compliment. Thank you.

 

And sorry, no update today. Maybe not until Thursday. There’s a lot I want to in this next chapter, and frankly, I’m just tired. Every time I lay down on my couch with my laptop the last few days, I feel an overwhelming urge to close my eyes. I’m gonna follow that feeling.

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1 hour ago, Author_Alex said:

What a wonderful compliment. Thank you.

 

And sorry, no update today. Maybe not until Thursday. There’s a lot I want to in this next chapter, and frankly, I’m just tired. Every time I lay down on my couch with my laptop the last few days, I feel an overwhelming urge to close my eyes. I’m gonna follow that feeling.

Just please dont forget. Normally whenever I read a story Im interested in isnt finished already, doesnt get finished. Or takes forever. Especially if I catch up. 

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I lied. This is hardly the entire chapter, but given where I've stopped, there's no reason not to post it. Enjoy!

____________________________________

Chapter 13, Part 1

 

 

“What are we doing today,” Jamie asked after his breakfast or pureed fruit. It felt good to be back on something other than liquid, though he really liked the formula. Still, he missed chewing, and that was still several weeks away.

 

“I don’t know yet,” Becky replied. “Did you have anything in mind?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“You’re bored, huh?”

 

“Well, pretty much been the house since I got here, other than a couple errands.”

 

“Well, why don’t I call Jane and see if she and Rosie want to do something with us. You can go play meanwhile.”

 

Jamie toddled off to find Amanda, who was in the shower, apparently. Not that he’d have minded just sitting in there while she did that. Jamie didn’t think of her that way, he just enjoyed being by her side, and he didn’t have much else to do. So he went to his room and got his bear, then sat down in his chair with one of the books he got. He was surprised by it. It had, at best, young adult themes, but it was written well enough to be absorbing.

 

“Oh, Jamie,” he heard Becky coming up the stairs. “We’re gonna go to the beach and meet Jane and Rosie. I’m going to pull our things together, and I’ll be back in a bit to get you dressed, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Of all the places to go, the beach would have been Jamie’s last pick. Staying home sounded better. But having asked to do something different, he knew he couldn’t back out now. He liked the beach, loved it even. But here? A beach, the most public of public places. He tried to turn back to his reading, but he kept picturing himself waddling out of the water with half the ocean in his pants.

 

“Hey! I heard you’re going to the beach.” Amanda smelled like flowers he hadn’t smelled before.

 

“Yeah,” he feigned some enthusiasm.”

 

“Can I come?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Mom’s getting a bunch of stuff ready. How about I get you dressed?” Amanda started rooting through the closet.

 

“Ok … what am I gonna wear to the beach?”

 

“Well, I figured this would be a good chance to break out the sailor suit. I mean, we were gonna save it for a religious holidays and christening ships, but now that think on it, that’s just dumb. If you can’t wear a sailor suit to the beach, you might as well just have the hat and not the suit, right?”

 

Jamie knew when he was being put on. It actually made him feel good. Kids don’t get sarcasm; it’s mean to be sarcastic with kids. That Amanda would joke this way with him just showed she respected him.

 

“Unless you’d like to wear something else …?”

 

“Um, how about a bathing suit and a t-shirt?”

 

“That’s what I like about you, Jamie. You’re stylish yet understated. Let’s get you changed.” She lifted him on the changing table, and he held up his arms by instinct. She unzipped his sleeper, and as she put in the hamper he reclined on the pad.

 

The few minutes of time without a diaper he got each day were pleasant for him. Just feeling air where he rarely felt it was nice, and that the time coincided with baths, which he also loved, and with Amanda paying such gentle attention to him was extra special. Wanting a toilet to use above anything else, he been timing his voiding for when Amanda would be around next. It didn’t always work, but two out of every three changes were done by her. It was that Becky wasn’t just as good at it. It was just that, between the two of them, he preferred in pretty much all things, and if he couldn’t choose where to empty himself, he could choose when and thus who changed him.

 

“Um … Amanda, I, uh … I can’t swim in this, can I?”

 

“Not unless you want to carry around about 4 liters of sea water with you. We have some swim diapers for you.”

 

“Oh.” Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

 

She had him in swim trunks and a t-shirt in another minute and put sandals on his feet. He already had a tan from spending so much time out in the backyard. In fact, having been chained to a desk, he hadn’t been this tan in years.

 

“Let’s go wait in the living room for mom.” She helped him down, and the two of them went to the living room. ‘We’ turned out to be Jamie, whom Amanda lifted into the playpen while she went to go get herself ready. Jaime didn’t mind. He’d left his coloring book in there.

 

Jamie sort of liked the play pen. If he sat against the side away from the center of the room, he could still see out through the mesh, but he was a little more hidden. Becky came crashing up the stairs with chairs; then she went back down and came crashing up with a mesh bag full of beach toys; then she went down and came crashing back up with an umbrella. This is quite the production, Jamie thought.

 

Becky had worked up a sweat. She decided to go get herself ready next, as Amanda came down wearing a T-shirt dress and carrying a backpack.

 

“What happened to you?”

 

“I was getting stuff from the basement.”

 

“I’d have helped, Mom.”

 

“It’s alright. How ‘bout you go make us a lunch while I change?”

 

So Amanda went and filled a cooler with water and food for them, and that went to the car, too. It wasn’t a large car. This seemed a bit much to Jamie; they were just taking a day trip to a beach, and he thought they lived near it. He told himself to remember to ask for a map.

 

At last, Becky came back downstairs in a new outfit carrying an overstuffed pool bag in her arm, which she set down, went back down the hall, and came back with Jamie’s diaper bag.

 

“Are we ready?” Jamie didn’t know who she was asking.

 

“Yeah, Mom. So long as we don’t forget Jamie,” Amanda said as she came back into the living room and lifted him from the playpen. I could live with that, Jamie wanted to say.

 

Even from his low vantage point, Jamie could see the back of the car was filled with stuff. He had a lot of beach experience and knew you didn’t need all this. Not unless you were taking kids. Oh, he thought.

 

This presented a dilemma. Jamie didn’t feel compelled to use eight buckets and five shovels and a sifter and a net. But so much work went into bringing it, he felt he had to. As Amanda buckled him in, he asked, “Will you sit in the back with me.”

 

“Sure, buddy!” She went around to the other side and climbed in. Becky had them headed toward the beach.

 

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

 

“Rose.”

 

“Ah. You want to know what she’s like?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I used to babysit her.”

 

“Why don’t you anymore?”

 

“School, and because Jane’s neighbor’s daughter is old enough to now, and she’s cheaper than I am.”

 

“So, what is she like then?”

 

“She’s about your age.”

 

That was confusing. “Which … of my … ages?” Did that even make sense?

 

“Your Little age. I think she’s older than you where you’re from.”

 

“How long has she been here?”

 

“I want to say twelve years.”

 

“So she decided to stay then.”

 

“Yep. She’s always been a happy little Little.”

 

“Does Jane have any kids?”

 

“No, she says she never wanted any. After a while, she decided she wanted a Little though.”

 

“But …. How is that different?”

 

“It …” That was a good question. Having a Little was arguably more work than a kid. Kids grow up and need less care. Only a handful of Littles grow up. Some grow up a bit and then stop, and most stay the way they arrived, or even go backward.

 

“I guess I’m not sure.”

 

“But it is different, though, right? I mean …” He had trouble wrapping his head around it, too.

 

Amanda tried again. “I think, maybe … maybe Jane liked the idea of always having someone who depended on her, and being able to take care of her forever.”

 

“But, doesn’t your mom do that for you?”

 

Such a sweet guy, Amanda thought. “Ya know, you’re right. She does. But I think every parent is torn. A part of them wants to see their child grow up and get to know the person they become, and a part of them wants their child to stay young, even so young that they need their moms and dads for everything.”

 

That made sense to Jamie. “That makes sense. So how far is the beach anyway?”

 

“It’s on the other side of that hill.” She pointed to the ridge on their left.

 

“Maybe when we get home, you could show me a map of where we live.”

 

They pulled into a sandy parking lot filled with cars like Becky’s. From his seat, Jamie could see other people unloading as much junk as they had. Jamie had no idea what time it was, but he was feeling tired and figured it must be near his morning nap time.

 

“Chill here; we’ll get some stuff out first.” Jamie kicked his legs for no reason, his feet dangling low so they didn’t hit the seat. The hatch of the car opened, and it sounded like all but a few things fell out. Becky got the entire car seat out with Jamie still in it and secured into the stroller. She looked at Jamie and at the pile.

 

“Can you walk?”

 

“Of course I can.” Does she think I’m gonna forget how?

 

Jamie found himself next to the stroller, and as much as they could fit ended up in it, under it, or hanging from it. From stroller to luggage. Still, they’d need to make more than one trip. Jaime appraised himself. This was the most normal outfit he’d worn since he got there, even if the shirt had a whale on it. The swimsuit did nothing to disguise what he had underneath, but catching glimpses of other Littles between the cars as they walked past, he counted himself lucky he wasn’t wearing a speedo, or nothing but a diaper. He remembered people taking their babies around like that in public back home, and he always wondered what possessed a parent to do that. It was hardly dignified for the child, and it wasn’t exactly polite to the people around them either: here, it said, this my child and the thing they void their bowels into; we thought you’d enjoy it more if there wasn’t even a layer of cotton to obscure the view.

 

 

“And we’re off.” Amanda held Jamie’s hand as they crossed the parking lot, looking both ways. They headed toward the boardwalk. Jamie looked at the sand: white and fine. There was sand like that at home, but he’d never seen it in person. A dozen trash cans, some overflowing, were near the entrance to the boardwalk; that part he did remember from home.

 

They boardwalk was long. Thankfully Amanda and Becky slowed down so he didn’t have to speed-walk to keep up. When they finally came in sight of the sea, Jamie stopped walking and took in the scene. He smiled; a tear fell from his eye, the good kind.

 

“Honey, is everything okay,” Becky asked.

 

“Yeah. It looks like home.”

 

The two of them waited for his cue before they walked on. At the foot of the boardwalk ramp were two dozen other strollers. It was still early in the day; Jamie could at least tell that from the sun, and it wasn’t as warm yet as it would be. He wondered if things would get busier or if this was it. Jamie was handed his diaper bag and the sack of beach toys, and Becky and Amanda shouldered the chairs and umbrella and beach bag.

 

They turned left from the boardwalk. Their feet slipped a little each time they pushed off the balls of their feet, the rubber soles of their sandals squeaking with each step. It was a little hard on the calves, just like Jamie remembered. The salt in the air; the smell of sea life; those were familiar, too.

 

After a few hundred meters, they saw Jane wave to them. She trotted over and took the toy bag.

 

“More toys! Exactly what we need,” she chuckled. “Good morning, Jaime. Are you excited for your first time at the beach here?”

 

“Good morning, Jane. I am. I missed it more than I thought.”

 

“Rosie can’t wait to meet you.”

 

They reach the spot Jane had picked out, just above where the surf stopped; he could feel the tide had only stopped washing over the area an hour or two ago. The sand wasn’t dry; it was spongy and cool, not hard like the packed sand the waves still lapped over.

 

Rosie didn’t pay them much attention. She was seated with her legs under her, working on something in the sand in front of her. She had an array of buckets and tools to work with.

 

“Rosie,” Jane said as she knelt down and touched her on the shoulder, “I want you to meet Jamie.” Jane’s voice was odd, he thought. Rosie turned around, and Jamie saw what she’d been working on – a wet mound of sand.

 

He looked her up and down. One-piece bathing suit with polka dots and ruffles on her butt, clearly padded underneath. She had black hair and olive skin. He couldn’t tell how old she really was; it was impossible to know because of the cosmetic work the doctors did, the same ones that make him lose his facial and body hair and look and feel so much younger.

 

When she turned all the way around, he saw she was blushing, and when she spoke, she rushed the words out: “Hi, Jamie. I’m Rosie. Wanna help me build a castle?”

 

Jamie hadn’t considered it, and no one had told him. She’s regressed, he realized.

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Guess they left that little tidbit out...lol. I do hope he meets other Littles more like himself as well or one’s who help him through where he is now.  But his interaction with a regressed little is always fun to watch or anticipate as well! Hope your hand heals but i am enjoying your extra writing time!

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Yeah I could not handle being younger than elementary for any duration..... For one thing I'd go batshit without an internet connection.....?

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4 hours ago, DiaperBoy37 said:

Not what I meant. I meant it as while you are taking your break from writing, dont forget about this story. I'd rather your hand heal than benefit from it being injured. 

I know what you meant and I take no offense. I’m just giving you a hard time and trying to set some expectations because I, too, know it can be disappointing to have to wait a long time between updates. I’m glad you like the story enough to feel that way at just the prospect of having to wait. ?

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Literally wanted to take this chapter one way, then took it a different way, then rewrote the ending what it is now, which is where I wanted to go in the first place. Amazing, how so few words can entirely change not just the events but the tenor and meaning and direction of the nearly 56,000 that came before them.

__________________________________________

 

Chapter 13, Part 2

 

 

Jamie knew this would happen eventually; he just hadn’t thought much about what to say, nor was he sure what about a regressed Little made him so uncomfortable.

 

Perhaps it was the notion that a regressed and unregressed Little were essentially on the same playing field in terms of how they were viewed by Bigs, or could be viewed that way if a Big decided to. Already Jamie had seen how Bigs treated Littles they thought were regressed and they had continued to treat him nearly as poorly after he informed them otherwise. And it wasn’t even poor treatment in the context of a regressed Little; then it was normal treatment. It was only poor if, like Jamie, the Little was entirely himself.

 

What Jamie felt, and what he didn’t like, as a sense of superiority over regressed Littles, not that they were in some way inferior, but only that if he wasn’t in some way superior, then the Bigs who had treated him poorly had done nothing wrong. He didn’t want to feel superior to anyone; it wasn’t in his nature to have such an ego. He had always mad humility a policy, a way of working with all manner of people who practiced all manners of living, to be able to help them without judging. But Jamie didn’t judge Rosie, though neither could he see her an equal, so he thought, without diminishing his own status.

 

Jamie responded by assuming the same mannerisms he found so unappealing when directed at him. “Hi, Rosie,” he said in explosive enthusiasm, “I’m so glad to meet you. I would love to play with you. Can you show me how?” All three Bigs ‘awwed’ in unison.

 

So Jamie found himself seated in the sand listening to Rose instruct him on how to make a pile of wet sand. It was, if nothing else, familiar. He’d worked with young children, many of whom wanted to show him something, and he did it with feigned enthusiasm and asked questions he knew the answer to and generally humored them because it made them feel good about themselves and like they had a friend, which they did, though a different sort of friend than perhaps the imagined. He remembered also that when playing with a young child, the game is whatever they want to play. So they made a bigger and bigger pile, and the tools that would have made it something else were left to the side; she was happy having a pile for a castle.

 

Inevitably, Jamie found himself bored and longed to get in the water. He wasn’t sure how to excuse himself, though. As an adult, he could always just decide the game was over and graciously extricate himself. As a Little, could he do that without disappointing the three Bigs, or would that be considered unkind? Luckily for the moment, but perhaps not later, the issue resolved itself.

 

“The sun is moving, kiddo. Let’s get some sunscreen on you.” Becky motioned for him to sit in front on her chair and she applied the lotion to his entire body save what was covered by his bathing suit. Jamie felt he could have made a day of just being massaged with suntan lotion, even though the stuff was so heavy he imagined it was SPF 100. Becky stuck a ballcap on his head to protect it as well.

 

“Do you want to play in the water?” That was better than the massage.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“Alright; let’s get you ready.” Oh yeah, Jaime mumbled.

 

Becky got off her chair and motioned for Jamie to lie down in her place. Looking to the sky was too much, and Jamie lifted the hat and placed it over his eyes to block the sun.

 

“Are you feeling shy,” Becky asked when she saw. “Amanda, do you mind sitting on the other side of Jamie so he’s a little less exposed?” Amanda moved over while Becky rustled around in the pool bag.

 

“Ready,” Becky asked, though it wasn’t a full-fledged question. It was just the outline of a question, because Becky didn’t wait for an answer before pulling his swimsuit off his ankles, leaving him in a diaper for hundreds of people to see.

 

His diaper was removed without anyone taking note of it still being dry, and a swim diapered was threaded up his legs followed by his trunks. The swim diaper was so much tighter, but also thinner, though Jamie knew that wouldn’t last. He pulled the hat from his face and looked around. There was no crowd watching to see the show. He thought he could see someone getting a similar treatment down the beach.

 

Becky held out her hands to help Jamie sit up. He started walking toward the water. As though he were about to walk into traffic, Jane reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Not yet, buddy. You have to go with one of us.” Fair enough, he thought, though he was not amused. I bet I can swim better than any of them, Jaime thought.

 

“And we need these.” Jaime turned back around to see Becky holding an inflatable ring and water wings. He wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed, more angry at them, or more angry at himself for not seeing this coming. He wanted to throw a genuine tantrum; the first time he had looked forward to doing anything, and it was being taken away from him. That’s not swimming, he thought. That’s not even floating; that’s bobbing. He drew on his patience and managed to keep control of himself, and he remembered what Becky and Amanda had both said: trust them and behave yourself.

 

“C’mere so we can get these on you.” Becky sounded so chipper. It was difficult to be mad at someone who was so chipper all the time and clearly meant well. The fact that it was difficult only added to Jamie’s frustration. If he considered it, it wasn’t even Becky per se; it was being over-mothered. He had envisioned someone who mothered him by taking an emotional toll off of him, not someone who mothered him by placing so many, and such strict restrictions on him. From the diapers to the crib to her habit of feeding him unless he specifically asked her stop, the irritation was adding an emotional toll where none had been before. Of all the ways Jamie didn’t feel himself here, some good and some bad, the bad one that concerned him was how often he felt angry.

 

It was a different kind of angry than the kind that drove him here, one emotion among many that drove him here. Being angry on behalf of others felt righteous but draining. This just felt draining. The things he used to be able to do – be patient, reason with people – were ineffective here for the most part. For all the progress she had made, and she had made good progress, this undid a lot of it. No one had asked him if he could swim, though Becky knew he loved water; she had asked, and he had told her so. At worst, Jamie thought she was doing this because, as she had before, she thought it was cute; at best, it was because of her need to feel she was keeping him safe rather than his need to actually be safe. The word ‘trust’ had been thrown at Jamie a lot – from Cheryl, Becky, and Amanda – and what needed was some reciprocation.

 

His arm hanging in a water wing, each breath from Becky just pissed him off more. Fortunately, at least, her giant lungs made it a quick task. He looked at Rosie; Jane was getting her ready in the same way. She looked delighted. That pissed him off as well.

 

The five of them walked toward the water – actually, three walked and two waddled while holding plastic rings around their waists – and stepped into the surf. Jamie tried to concentrate only on what he was feeling.

 

The sand at the surf gives way with each footfall, and the water tamps the san back down until there’s no evidence you were ever there. But once past his ankles, the pressure of the water, just the few inches of it, was greater than his, and the sand was hard; it didn’t give way with each step; it hardly acknowledged Jamie was there. The water wasn’t cool; it was warm from a summer’s worth of sunny days. The foam obscured the sand through the water, and when they got deep enough it cleared so he could see the bottom, just a foot deep now, and he could see the sand was not all white. Some was black, and the waves formed patterns with it, the black grains being lighter than the white or the other way around, reflecting the curl and drift of the surf above. No shells of any notable size, and what small ones to be seen were mostly broken. Schools of fry; no fish or crab.

 

And the smell, that smell of the medium for the creation of life, that remnant smell of the primordial which produced the first living thing, that smell you taste, that green smell of water full of life. A smell you can feel, because the salt sticks to the skin and stays in the hair, that smell you take home with you. That bloody smell when it fills your mouth. That burning smell when it finds you eyes. If you ever find yourself far from home, go anywhere to the sea, and some deep-buried part of you, a part that’s been there since before we were human, will recognize that place as your true home, the place you came from before we were.

 

Jamie tried to take all that in, but his mind couldn’t hold the thought. Instead he felt the seams of the inflatable scraping against his skin and rubbing his armpits raw, and he heard Rosie squealing in a way that’s only barely cute in very young children, and without looking, he saw eyes on him, expecting something. They waded out until the Bigs were just past waist deep, leaving the Littles with their feet dangling a few inches above the bottom. Rosie dog paddled in circles. Jamie bobbed. Even if he had taken for granted that this was what he needed to wear, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

 

Grabbed suddenly and before he could realize it, Jamie was out of the water and quickly back in it with a thud that forced the ring up into his armpits. The Bigs were laughing, and Rosie was squealing, “Do me! Do me!” Jane picked her up and threw her, and she landed laughing. Becky picked her up and threw her back. Jamie was airborne again, thrown by Amanda back to Becky, who immediately threw him back.

 

Startled as he was the first time, the sensation of breaking the water, feeling the cool air suddenly embrace him before his toes broke back through the surface – Jamie couldn’t remember the last time someone has tossed him in the water this way. He thought to himself it was kind of fun, and soon he was laughing, too. And when all three Bigs had tossed him several times, and they were too tired to hoist him so forcefully one more time, Jamie actually felt disappointed. The fun didn’t last all that long; it never does. The stubborn part of Jamie didn’t want to admit he’d enjoyed himself anyway, just in a different way.

 

“Who’s ready for lunch,” Becky asked, a little out of breath. Taking Jamie’s hand, she towed him back to where he could stand, and the five of them walked out of the sea.

 

Once out of the water, Jamie learned even with a swim diaper he felt waterlogged. He recalled the rash he would get from being in a wet bath suit, combined with sand, and wondered how someone could possibly avoid that with one of these things on.

 

There were chairs for Jane, Becky, and Amanda. Littles, Jamie assumed, are expected to sit on the ground. But Amanda sat down next to him anyway and opened a package of pureed fruit, handing it to Jamie along with a spoon.

 

“Did you have fun?”

 

“Yeah. I … Yeah.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

She nudged him with her foot.

 

“C’mon, what?”

 

Jamie didn’t know what to say. At what point does a request cross the line between just a request to do something differently and rejecting what Bigs saw as being in his own interest? The thing he had been told to stop doing so often, in other words. Probably not one request, but Jamie didn’t want to stop at one if he got a no. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much he had asked that, having begun doing differently, Becky or anyone else had acquiesced to do the way Jamie preferred.

 

On this point, Jamie was feeling like he deserved to insist, and maybe even blatantly disobey. No one had told him what the consequences of that might be, but even so.

 

“I want to go swimming.”

 

“Right after lunch we can go again.”

 

“No, I mean, I can actually swim. I want to swim.”

 

“So, go ask her.” Her eyes pointed to Becky.

 

“And if she says no?”

 

“Then you and I will take a walk and do it anyway. But only if you ask her”

 

As a foster kid, Jamie had always been afraid to ask for anything. He didn’t want seem ungrateful or greedy. He rarely asked for anything. “Will you come with me?”

 

“Nope. Gotta do this on your own. But tell her I’ll go with you.”

 

Sighing, Jamie nervously walked over to Becky, who stopped talking with Jane. She saw he looked tentative. “What is it, pumpkin?”

 

“Um … Can I go swimming?”

 

“Sure! We can all go when we’re done with our lunches.”

 

Jamie’s impulse was to feign a smile and say thank you, but he forced himself. “Um, that sounds fun too, but I mean, I want to actually swim, without the water wings. I know how … I’m actually really good at it. Promise?” That sounded more pitiful than he meant it to; he didn’t mean that last part to be a question, or even to say it. Some part 15 years deep in his brain remembered it helped sometimes.

 

Becky’s impulse was to kindly say no. How did she know if he could really swim? He was so small. Some other day, in a pool, maybe he could try.

 

“Amanda will go with me.”

 

Becky looked behind Jamie to see Amanda looking at her with a neutral expression. Amanda looked back hoping Becky would do the right thing without her having to explain it first. Trust me, trust Jamie, is exactly what she didn’t want to have to say; she wanted Becky to figure it out on her own.

 

“Okay. But stay close together.” Becky said it looking into his eyes and then much more deeply into Amanda’s.

 

Amanda smacked her hands together to remove some crumbs and took a long pull on her water bottle. She walked up to Jamie.

 

“C’mon.” She held out her hand, and the two of them walked back to the surf.

 

Jamie was almost waist deep, deep enough to float, when Amanda stopped. Hard as she tried not to be, she was nervous. He said he could swim, but so did people who could barely keep their heads above the water. Still, Amanda told herself, you’re here and a lot bigger than he is; it he really can’t swim, he won’t get far and it will be easy to pluck him out of the water.

 

Becky and Jane watched from their chairs. Becky had both hands on the arms of her chair, ready to jump and run.

 

Amanda let go of Jamie’s hand. In for a penny, in for a pound, Jamie thought. “Um, Amanda? Could you do me a favor?”

 

“Depends on what it is.”

 

Jamie figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Putting his thumbs on the waistbands of his bathing suit and swim diaper, he said, “Hold these,” and in one motion pushed them off, dove forward, and threw himself under. He didn’t hear Amanda laughing or Becky shouting 'stay together!' over the waves, and if he had, he would not have turned back.

 

Pushing off the sand, Jamie came up between the waves and threw his shoulders forward in a butterfly, dropping his head down to crash through the breaker, kicked his feet in the shallow-deep motion of the stroke, let the movement roll from his toes up, his body undulating like a cord snapped by the hand until the momentum and his muscles lifted his shoulders back out of the water and threw his arms forward again.

 

The very motion felt wonderful. Jamie hadn’t done anything strenuous in he didn’t know how long. He didn’t realize how stiff and tight his back and shoulders were until he forcefully opened them with each stroke, taking at first three then two then one stroke for each breath as he became winded, when he went deep and dolphin-kicked so fast and low to the sand he pulled some of it along in his underwater wake. The salt burning his eyes, the exertion grabbing at his lungs, the diffuse light through the water, the complete silence. This felt like home. Anywhere there is saltwater, he thought, is home.

 

Back above, Becky walked to the water and up to Amanda as casually as she could, but she wanted to run, and she wanted to start lecturing. She held it back though.

 

“That’s not staying close, Amanda.”

 

“Look ...” Amanda nodded toward Jamie, his feet breaking the surface and powerfully rolling from hip to knee to ankles in a curving thrust that would propel him back upward again. We couldn’t catch him if we wanted to.”

 

They couldn’t. They were big, and they were strong. Jamie was small, and he was fast. Jamie was the rabbit turned fish. He could swim better and faster and longer than either of them.

 

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I am definitely enjoying your story here. A part of me would like to see Becky out of the equation and see Amanda become his true mommy... she feels more like it to me already! I hope he's not in too much trouble when he gets back to them from swimming. (Hopefully another big doesn't have a fit and 'rescue' him and ruin everything there) Given his recovery swimming probably would be one of the best recovery exercises he could have!

Can't wait for the next part!

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No, I think there needs to be a breakthrough moment for Becky and Jamie though, that brings him closer to her. Maybe he can talk to her about his fear for Rosie, and his confusion around being treated as a toddler.

Please, please, don’t write Jamie as having superhero qualities (like Stacey in Exchanged). He’s not a fish with record breaking speed, or has superhuman strength. 

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Poor Jaime he's going to be stuck having endless play dates with Rose that are awful because no one other than Amanda remembers he's not regressed and is capable of doing things and needs non regressed stuff to do so he doesn't go mad.  Nobody will  needs to spend time doing non-rose level things other than Rebecca and she's leaving soon.  One day Becky is going to get Jamie up and she'll need  a broom for all the bits and pieces of former person pieces that came here to be fixed and just got worse until soon they shatter irretrievably.

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3 hours ago, ozziebee said:

No, I think there needs to be a breakthrough moment for Becky and Jamie though, that brings him closer to her. Maybe he can talk to her about his fear for Rosie, and his confusion around being treated as a toddler.

Please, please, don’t write Jamie as having superhero qualities (like Stacey in Exchanged). He’s not a fish with record breaking speed, or has superhuman strength. 

It’s a metaphor. See the dream sequence in chapter 5.

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10 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

That last segment was beautiful.  Poetic.  I... I'm at a loss here.  Keep going, good sir.

For 15 years my mom has been telling me to write a novel. I said I didn’t know how.

I don’t like all of this writing. It moves the story forward, but only some of the language is of the quality I would expect in any fiction I read, which is not much. I have published and do make a little money on nonfiction, enough to pay for a vacation every year.

What I’ve always lacked for fiction is a premise. I kind of want to take parts of this ajdncovble together something. I think some of it works as an allegory. I spent some very good language here, and I kinda want it back for use elsewhere ?‍♂️ 

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