Baby's First: Shopping Trip (One Shot Short Story)

[RambleLamb]

This is the first in a small series of one shots that will focus on small experiences in the narrator's life that happen to be firsts for them as little's or AB's or what have you. Everything contained within these stories is fiction and should not be viewed as actual events that have transpired.  

Fun fact, I didn't use the word "diaper" in this story because of reasons. Also fun fact, I may have let my own personality bleed into this one...a lot...ish...discuss?

 

 

Baby's First...

 

“Shopping Trip”

 

By: RambleLamb

 

At what point do you decide to commit to something important to you? I've thrown myself into activities of interest before, often with little to no real love for whatever it is, but something that I feel defines me as a person ends up being waited on and pushed aside for various reasons, most of which are shame based. This is why, at two in the morning, I'm dressed and sitting on the couch in my, well, my parents' living room holding my car keys and watching my leg nervously bounce up and down while I try and rationalize my sudden and impetuous decision.

 

Fact: I just got my driver's license and in the great state of California I'm not legally allowed to operate a motor vehicle without an adult in the car after dark.

 

Fact: My parents are out of town and gave me strict orders not to take the car out for anything other than school, work, and errands.

 

I'm standing and reach the front door before I realize that my body has taken control of pushing me into doing what I'd been trying to do for the last hour. The keys in my hand are entering the deadbolt and turning it with that solid clunk sound that makes me feel secure when I'm on the other side of the door in my pajamas on the way upstairs to bed, but now just cements in my brain that I'm breaking all the rules for purely selfish reasons.

 

Our condo complex is usually quiet, but in the wee hours of the morning it's almost eerie how silent it is until a car passes by on the street with music blasting out the open windows shattering the silence and making me jump and feel like running back to the front door to hurry back inside and to bed like the random car was somehow going to alert my parents of what I was planning. 

 

My heart rate slows down as I walk to the car, looking around nervously as I push the zipper of my hoodie up like I'm trying to decapitate myself in the teeth before stuffing my hands into the pockets of the hoodie to clutch my phone and keys as I approach the car and thumb the buttons on the fob forever to ensure I don't accidentally press the alarm button at the top, but double tap the unlock button in the center and put my hand on the door handle to open it and climb into the car.

 

The thumping of my heart is elevated again once I'm in the car. During the daytime the car is known, it's a place I've been in front and back, I've learned its secrets and how it operates through hours upon hours of practice, but this isn't that daytime car, this is the still dark early morning hours car, the foreign being that's enshrouded in darkness with levers and buttons that look out of place with only the florescent light above the parking space casting weak illumination into it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, my anxiety threatening to go into panic attack territory if I don't do something to get it under control. 

 

I realize I'm gripping the steering wheel and pull my hands from it slowly, my fingers aching from squeezing so hard on the leather ring in front of me. Thoughts of giving up and going back inside cross my mind, the logistics of just ordering online playing out to the inevitable worst case outcome, my parents bringing in the package and opening it while I'm not home so I walk into a shit storm of disappointed looks and screaming, probably therapy for being a degenerate freak.

 

My head is shaking the thought from it as I put my foot on the brake and press the ignition button, bringing the car to life and breaking the early morning silence as my mother's oldies music blares from the speakers for a fraction of a second before I smash the button on the dashboard to silence it, looking around through the tinted windows for signs of angry neighbors with torches and pitchforks rallying up around the car to drag me out and detain me until their leader can get a hold of my parents to tell them about my disruptive behavior and late night excursions.

 

I sigh and mentally chastise myself for getting carried away as I put the car in reverse and inch out of the parking space, looking this way and that behind me while looking in each mirror in succession as I clear the side of the building and work the wheel to the right, my eyes bulging out of my skull when the alarm for the parking brake starts chiming in the car, causing me to push my foot down too hard on the brake to release the lever beside me. Another sigh as I finish backing up and switch the car into drive and inch my way to the driveway leading out to the street, stopping again for the seatbelt chime and spending the next five minutes running through a checklist of every possible thing in the car that may or may not ding, buzz, chirp or alarm at me before finally pulling out onto the street.

 

I'd decided early in the planning stages of this quest that I wouldn't chance going to the Walmart closest to where we lived on the off chance that someone I knew from school was working there or a friend or family member of a friend happened to be doing some after midnight shopping of their own and would see me. I briefly entertained the idea that the popular clique of girls would be hanging out at that very store and I'd happen to bump into them, not upon entry of the store of course, but only after I'd gone to where I was going and gotten what I'd come to get so that they'd see me with the package under my arm and I'd try to smoothly spit my cover story of restocking Grandma's supply only for one of them to somehow recall that my Grandma had passed when I was in middle school. The nightmare scenario ended like one of the stories I secretly saved in a folder on my computer cleverly titled "Anime Translations" hidden within a sub folder inside of a sub folder just in case my parents used my computer for something.

 

Two towns over was a twenty four hour bulk grocery store which I chose as my destination because two towns over was exactly just outside my sphere of influence in the world and because bulk meant more for my money, at least that's what my sixteen year old knowledge of economics told me. The drive was quiet and allowed me time to think about what I was doing, which is a terrible thing for someone like me. My carefully crafted plan eroded with each subsequent thought as I navigated my way onto the freeway.

 

"Terrible Scenario #1", as it was quickly dubbed, found me walking up to the registers to find the most attractive cashier imaginable working it which left me nervous and stammering as they asked me if my purchase was for me. My well thought out cover story devolved into my mouth open for the words to come out only to have them clinging to the back of my throat in terror, not wanting to face the harsh florescent truth of the outside world. The cashier would notice all of this and inexplicably produce their phone to begin recording me just as my anxiety forced my apparently full to bursting bladder to empty in front of them, leaving me standing in a puddle, my shameful accident not only on full display but also recorded for posterity. The cashier would hand me my purchase and thank me for shopping and I'd leave, my piss filled shoes squishing with every step all the way back to my car.

 

"Terrible Scenario #2" found me successful at the store with zero issue, my purchase safely and discreetly in the trunk and pulling back in at home with a swell of confidence at a plan perfectly executed. Once the front door was opened though, and my home far too early and sitting in the living room waiting for me parents came into view, I found myself in a similar predicament as the first scenario. My parents faces were masks of disappointment, first at me having gone out after curfew, then at driving alone at night, and then at me holding my purchase by the little plastic carry handle like I was going on a picnic where instead of eating one just pissed and shit themselves hundreds of times requiring such a large supply of protection. Mom would cry, Dad would seethe and I would regret all my life choices up to that point and watch my prize be thrown out while agreeing to see a therapist for my deviancy.

 

"Terrible Scenario #3" involved me at the store but everyone I'd ever met was shopping there at two in the morning because that's when the crowds really die down apparently. Rather than just turning around and going home empty handed, imaginary me doubled down on the plan and confidently strode into the store straight to the aisle I wanted where everyone passed through and critiqued my choices. The teacher I had a crush on in first grade before I could even understand the intricacies of crushes shared that I looked like a leaker and should go for the thicker ones and then seductively traced a finger along my butt as if that was something I wanted from them. My long dead Grandfather shared that he used the thinner ones except for on taco night at the Elk's lodge, that was a double up kind of affair, his words, delivered with a hard slap on my back and that wheezing guffaw he had that turned out to be the cancer.

 

I flipped on my turn signal and turned into the parking lot of the store, finding a space in the center of the lot so I wasn't directly under the bright security lights but also wasn't in mugging approved darkness and put the car in park and killed the engine. My heart was beating hard in my chest again and I planned to stop at the restroom on the way in to empty my suddenly very twitchy bladder and maybe also vomit, I like to be surprised from time to time.

 

The distance to the store seemed to stretch on forever as I put one foot in front of the other and made my way in, abandoned carts not yet retrieved by whatever shlub was unlucky enough to have to shag carts overnight as their job littering the empty parking spaces to the left and right of me like wheeled onlookers silently judging me, knowing precisely what I was here for. The automatic doors parted and allowed me to enter the store, the soft muzak worming its way into my ears as I turned and made my way to the bathroom.

 

Nothing came out of me in fifteen minutes of trying to pee and or vomit, I blame the overpowering scent of lemony cleaner that hung in the air barely masking the lingering scent of shit in the bathroom. I did achieve a moment of clarity though, realizing that my carefully crafted cover story was beyond stupid given that I was here at two in the morning dressed like I was going to burglarize a house on my way home, black hoodie, black jeans, black shoes, my crook look was on point for certain. I suddenly feared that anyone that saw me with my purchase would immediately assume correctly that I was in fact a pervert and that nothing about my purchase was innocent or necessary, save of course my innocent need to pretend to be a baby and the innocent need to be attired as one for the sake of faithful recreation of the simpler time in my life. 

 

The wide, almost industrial sized aisles of the store were daunting to say the least, but the fantasy of everything seeming larger because I was actually little slipped into my mind and stuck there. Images of riding in one of the muted, overly judgmental carts while someone I had created in my imagination pushed me through the store. My driver morphed as we went, male to female, older to younger, nice to mean all while I sat in the seat of the cart and behaved like the baby I fantasized myself to be. I babbled and clapped as I looked around at the rows of brightly colored boxes while they looked down at me lovingly and talked to me in that kind of babytalk that is actually cute and not the toxic acid that seeps into one's brain when they hear or read people like me do it and disables your central nervous system so all you can manage to do is roll your eyes and politely wish they would get puppy bone cancer and die in a fire. 

 

I came out of my fog of imagination when I realized I had no idea where I needed to go in the store. My eyes and head working in tandem to scan the aisles I was passing for signs of my prize, finding only bulk cereal and practically oil drum sized containers of juice and milk. I saw a worker mopping ahead of me and absently wondered if I could ask for directions without using my trigger word. For some reason the actual word for what I was here to buy had almost the same power as the actual item itself, hearing the word used out in the world always caused me to focus my attentions automatically and intently as if the conversation weren't just about a young mother toilet training her child but rather were about her preparing to divulge her prior night's experience of pleasuring herself in her well used garment or whatever the fantasy leaned into on that given day and time.

 

Rounding the corner at the end of the main artery I was careful not to make eye contact with the mopper and put my head down and scurried forward past the dairy cases, looking up just enough to peek down the aisles I was passing in search for something similar to what I was looking for. This went on for long enough that I started to wonder if maybe I'd made a mistake, maybe they didn't carry what I was looking for at all and I'd wasted my time coming here and formulating my perfect clandestine plan, and then I saw them. 

 

These things have a curiosity attached to them, a fascination that is indelible from my very soul like part of my personality. I suppose that's what a fetish is, but that word always makes it sound unseemly to me, like something that one should be ashamed of and hide from the world. When I attach flowery words and descriptors to them it makes it sound more like what it is, a dependency, I suppose codependency would be more accurate given that unless I'm wearing and using them they just stay in a bag, their sole purpose for existing going unmet for no greater reason than shame. They need me just as much as I need them, someone created them and I'm willing to put them to good use, so really, I'm just a consumer, nothing weird or disgusting about that, right?

 

I realize as I'm standing in front of them that they're facing the registers, which I might have noticed when I came in were it not for my phantom needs to urinate and or vomit I'd been experiencing at the time. I glanced at the bank of registers to see a woman sitting behind one doing a puzzle book of some kind, crossword or word search most likely, the former making me feel nervous that she'd see through me and know my purchase was for me because of how smart she was for doing a crossword puzzle book in what appeared to be pen, the latter putting me at ease because word searches are the adult equivalent of covering your eyes to make a baby think you've disappeared, there's no challenge because the subject is barely smarter than a houseplant, and using a pen wouldn't matter to her because if she messed up she'd just casually look around to see if anyone was watching and then flip the page to a different puzzle like a child reading a choose your own adventure book but not letting go of a page until they were certain the choice they made didn't end the story.

 

The lying liar of a woman wasn't paying attention to me when I looked, and I focused my attentions on the packages in front of me, my heart beating faster as I read the packaging and saw the prize within the clear plastic it was printed on, words like "absorbancy" and "protection" dancing through my brain as I imagine myself playing with my odd assortment of blocks and soft toys as I pause briefly to relieve myself without concern because my purchase is taped snugly around my waist. My hand trembles as I grab the carry handle on top and pick it up, feeling a giddy thrill at how heavy it actually is before making my way nonchalantly to the register.

 

The word search queen looks up at me, her eyes glazed with boredom or possibly retardation, I can't be sure, an adult doing a word search is fairly damning evidence for the case of mental deficiency. I watch the package move down on the conveyor belt as she toggles the little switch near her and step to my mark to make my purchase, trying to relax as she scans the barcode on the side of the package and gives me my total. I force a smile and nod my understanding as I reach into my pocket, my hands touching my keys and phone and suddenly a cold chill runs through my body as I realize I forgot my wallet at home. I see it in my mind's eye on the counter in the kitchen right beside the wooden bowl we use for keys and coins. 

 

I apologize to the cashier and explain my lack of money in a way that someone of her mental acuity would be able to comprehend and scurry away in humiliation, the fear of driving back home knowing now that I don't have my license on me making me feel like crying. I sit in my car crying for a few minutes, thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong on the way back home and wipe my eyes with my sleeves, take a deep breath and start the car, resolute in my decision to get home safely and without incident so I can order what I came here for online like a normal pervert.

[kerry]

This is a wonderfully well-written piece! It's been a long time since I was 16, but I could feel it. ?

[RambleLamb]

14 minutes ago, kerry said:

This is a wonderfully well-written piece! It's been a long time since I was 16, but I could feel it. ?

I was shooting for this to be relatable to people like Something Familiar by the incredibly talented @Sophie ♥. I didn't have any illusions that I'd be able to capture the same perfect crystallization of emotions and thoughts that we in this community have about these things, about these experiences that we have when we're growing up by growing down, but I wanted to illustrate that we're kind of this hive mind of shared experiences when it comes to this lifestyle and I'm glad that at least one person felt that.

This story, and the rest in the series, are designed to shine a light on things that people may feel are only something that's happened to them, for better or worse, the reader will hopefully learn that they're not the only one that's had to endure going to a store to buy diapers and feeling like the world is watching and somehow knows who and what they truly are, they'll learn that other entries in this series are part of that shared experience we as a community have and that they're not alone.

Again, I'm not the best person for this job no one asked be done, but I chalk it up to giving back in a way and if one person feels a little better about something because they saw themselves in the story then I'll feel great...as long as they tell me that, I'm not omniscient, guys.

[Wannatripbaby]

That was a great story! And I really think th omission of the "D-word" was very clever. There's probably a word for the particular literary device used when one purposely avoids a particular word but... eh, I'm no English professor. :D

I, too, thought of Something Familiar when I read this. Which just proves that you captured those sorts of emotions well. You really are amazing, Lamby. Don't ever doubt that. ♡♡♡

[RambleLamb]

1 hour ago, Wannatripbaby said:

That was a great story! And I really think th omission of the "D-word" was very clever. There's probably a word for the particular literary device used when one purposely avoids a particular word but... eh, I'm no English professor.

I, too, thought of Something Familiar when I read this. Which just proves that you captured those sorts of emotions well. You really are amazing, Lamby. Don't ever doubt that. ♡♡♡

"For some reason the actual word for what I was here to buy had almost the same power as the actual item itself, hearing the word used out in the world always caused me to focus my attentions automatically and intently" quoted, bolded and underlined for truth. This is very much me, and I'm sure I'm not alone in it since we literally have a forum section about diaper references, but just hearing the word diaper is cause for excitement for me, even if it does turn out to just be someone discussing to a friend on the phone that they had to diaper their ferret or whatever.

If being amazing is doing something similar in tone as a vastly superior and more popular writer but not doing it as well or as engagingly, then yes, I am amazing.  

[Wannatripbaby]

2 hours ago, RambleLamb said:

"For some reason the actual word for what I was here to buy had almost the same power as the actual item itself, hearing the word used out in the world always caused me to focus my attentions automatically and intently" quoted, bolded and underlined for truth. This is very much me, and I'm sure I'm not alone in it since we literally have a forum section about diaper references, but just hearing the word diaper is cause for excitement for me, even if it does turn out to just be someone discussing to a friend on the phone that they had to diaper their ferret or whatever.

Also me. ? You're not alone.

2 hours ago, RambleLamb said:

If being amazing is doing something similar in tone as a vastly superior and more popular writer but not doing it as well or as engagingly, then yes, I am amazing

Now you don't have to be so self-deprecating. I'm just gonna come out and say I think you're Just as talented as Sophie. At least in the areas that really matter like emotional depth. And she's got like 10+ years experience on you! Have you ever read sone of her earlier works? I've only seen snippets that she shared with me and my group and, well, it was pretty bad. And she'd agree! You've barely been here a year and you're already on Sophie's level! That is hella impressive!!! ♡♡♡

[RambleLamb]

17 hours ago, Wannatripbaby said:

Also me. ? You're not alone.

Now you don't have to be so self-deprecating. I'm just gonna come out and say I think you're Just as talented as Sophie. At least in the areas that really matter like emotional depth. And she's got like 10+ years experience on you! Have you ever read sone of her earlier works? I've only seen snippets that she shared with me and my group and, well, it was pretty bad. And she'd agree! You've barely been here a year and you're already on Sophie's level! That is hella impressive!!! ♡♡♡

I'm just being realistic, I'm not upset about it, she's better than me. All I was saying was that her story, and I commented this on it, should be required reading for people new to all of this, it's extremely helpful for making you feel like you're normal and all the things you feel are normal and everyone here has felt them.

[CDfm]

This was awesome! Another truly enjoyable story. I seem to have the same kind of luck at this person. I can see myself going through all that only to discover I couldn’t complete the task because I had forgotten my wallet. I was very pleased I could give this a like. 

[YourFNF]

On 7/26/2019 at 10:53 AM, RambleLamb said:

This is the first in a small series of one shots that will focus on small experiences in the narrator's life that happen to be firsts for them as little's or AB's or what have you. Everything contained within these stories is fiction and should not be viewed as actual events that have transpired.  

Fun fact, I didn't use the word "diaper" in this story because of reasons. Also fun fact, I may have let my own personality bleed into this one...a lot...ish...discuss?

 

 

Baby's First...

 

“Shopping Trip”

 

By: RambleLamb

 

At what point do

I apologize to the cashier and explain my lack of money in a way that someone of her mental acuity would be able to comprehend and scurry away in humiliation, the fear of driving back home knowing now that I don't have my license on me making me feel like crying. I sit in my car crying for a few minutes, thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong on the way back home and wipe my eyes with my sleeves, take a deep breath and start the car, resolute in my decision to get home safely and without incident so I can order what I came here for online like a normal pervert.

Great story you could practically see it. Reminds me of my first time.... I wasn't that much more composed at 22. Wandering arounding the CVS at 3 a.m. with my hoodie up looking I was casing the place before finally grabbing a bag of maxthins.... ?? Or hell my flirtations with gender nonconformity at 18. Driving to the next town over and trying on clothes at a random Kohl's off I-95.... Really puts things in perspective..... ?

[RambleLamb]

9 hours ago, YourFNF said:

Great story you could practically see it. Reminds me of my first time.... I wasn't that much more composed at 22. Wandering arounding the CVS at 3 a.m. with my hoodie up looking I was casing the place before finally grabbing a bag of maxthins.... ?? Or hell my flirtations with gender nonconformity at 18. Driving to the next town over and trying on clothes at a random Kohl's off I-95.... Really puts things in perspective..... ?

The thing I really liked about this story was that it felt like everyone could relate to it. Obviously some people haven't ever had the same experience the story illustrates but I think everyone, at one point or another, has felt the sting of anxiety over having to purchase diapers or AB stuff or literally anything that society or family members or neighbors would look down on them for purchasing.

I, like you, went the "dress like a criminal and go in dead of night to buy diapers like they were an illegal drug" route so I tapped into that for this. Doing something similar for trying on clothes you "aren't supposed to wear" is a very interesting thing to me because I hadn't thought it would be the same way but makes total sense. Thank you for sharing your experience and for reading my story!

[Scarlet]

4 hours ago, RambleLamb said:

The thing I really liked about this story was that it felt like everyone could relate to it. Obviously some people haven't ever had the same experience the story illustrates but I think everyone, at one point or another, has felt the sting of anxiety over having to purchase diapers or AB stuff or literally anything that society or family members or neighbors would look down on them for purchasing.

I, like you, went the "dress like a criminal and go in dead of night to buy diapers like they were an illegal drug" route so I tapped into that for this. Doing something similar for trying on clothes you "aren't supposed to wear" is a very interesting thing to me because I hadn't thought it would be the same way but makes total sense. Thank you for sharing your experience and for reading my story!

Definitely, I think what I loved about this story the most was how you characterized the anxiety and nervousness of the character. It really connected with me and I'm sure most people who read it given the topic at hand. The way you avoided saying "diapers" was impressive.

I've learned from essays and stories in English classes that it's very hard to replace a noun with something where you know what is being talked about without mentioning it. Well at least for extended periods of time like stories, obviously that doesn't apply in conversations much because the subject has usually been mentioned before and is being referenced, ugh I got on a tangent and started to ramble(no pun intended).

I loved the "terrible scenarios" and the commentary on the register lady and her possible personality based on the puzzle book really made me giggle. It really gave the story some comedic contrast to the anxiety, and the missing wallet also hit hard. I remember one time I was going to drive and while making sure I had everything, I couldn't find my wallet and I started panicking until I realized I'd put it in one of those side compartments of the car.??, silly me.

Well, great job. Looking forward to whatever you come up with next. 

Have an awesome day!

[RambleLamb]

8 minutes ago, Scarlet said:

Definitely, I think what I loved about this story the most was how you characterized the anxiety and nervousness of the character. It really connected with me and I'm sure most people who read it given the topic at hand. The way you avoided saying "diapers" was impressive.

I've learned from essays and stories in English classes that it's very hard to replace a noun with something where you know what is being talked about without mentioning it. Well at least for extended periods of time like stories, obviously that doesn't apply in conversations much because the subject has usually been mentioned before and is being referenced, ugh I got on a tangent and started to ramble(no pun intended).

I loved the "terrible scenarios" and the commentary on the register lady and her possible personality based on the puzzle book really made me giggle. It really gave the story some comedic contrast to the anxiety, and the missing wallet also hit hard. I remember one time I was going to drive and while making sure I had everything, I couldn't find my wallet and I started panicking until I realized I'd put it in one of those side compartments of the car.??, silly me.

Well, great job. Looking forward to whatever you come up with next. 

Have an awesome day!

Words hold power and the word "diaper" holds power over me, when I hear it I hone in on the source regardless of context or setting and I felt avoiding using it illustrated what kind power it had because of its absence, like the negative space in a painting.

Glad you liked it!

[Scarlet]

1 hour ago, RambleLamb said:

Words hold power and the word "diaper" holds power over me, when I hear it I hone in on the source regardless of context or setting and I felt avoiding using it illustrated what kind power it had because of its absence, like the negative space in a painting.

Glad you liked it!

Definitely, and i just realized that I accidentally cut a whole sentence from that section I wrote about avoiding the D word. It was that it impacted me because I can't say that word, when I try I get nervous, I start blushing, my voice gets low and the word just cuts off, even if I'm trying to say it alone, which is most, if not every time I've tried to say it.

Like if just uttering will reveal my secret, as if just mentioning it will plop information about abdl and my Little side onto the minds of everyone in the vicinity.

When I hear it being mentioned, my brain just turns on a radar and starts scanning for the source, when I hear it mentioned in non-abdl content/media I stay reading the word over and over or rewind the scene multiple times.

The negative space of a painting is a great analogy for the absence of the D word.

[Sarah Penguin]

You should write a sequel where he orders his diapers online, only to discover the payment system keeps crashing all night because the digital wallet system has blown up.