forced regression Alternative Therapies

[SweetLittleEmily]

On 1/4/2024 at 5:29 AM, Emmi said:

Out of curiosity how much time has passed since she started her therapy? Does she even remember why she started or that she will be allowed to see a doctor after the 3 month mark?

It's hard to keep track of times and days when they hardly play a role in one's daily life anymore. Just let yourself be surprised by what happens, I will address the topic of time in the upcoming chapters ;)

On 1/4/2024 at 3:29 AM, ken2988 said:

I can feel for this character, and it feels a lot like my life growing up when I was around 12.  My sister is 5 years younger than me and she stopped wetting the bed when she was around 3, while I wet the bed until I was almost 12 years of age.

I remember my sister and her friends teasing me about wetting the bed when she was around5 years of age until I stopped wetting the bed when she was 7.

I'm sorry you went through that back then. Kids can be very cruel.

[CDfm]

Great chapter.

 I know that diapers are sexual in nature for some people.  That’s not the case with me.  Having thoughts of a sexual nature with Viola’s mother during an embarrassing diaper change is something that would have been the furthest thing from my mind. I would have liked to have melted into the changing table. 
 

I will be watching for more. 

[SweetLittleEmily]

Chapter 18

In the following days, not only did Viola seem to adjust well in the new environment, but her mother did as well. Although she was initially there just to help Viola settle into kindergarten, she naturally began taking care of the other children too, and in doing so became a real pillar of support for Mrs. Müller. Her presence suddenly made activities possible that previously would have been impossible for Mrs. Müller to carry out alone.

I couldn't stifle a big yawn as I sat down next to Nora at the lunch table, after an unusually extensive long group game. A heaviness settled over my eyelids that I could hardly fight off. Uncertainty washed over me: Was the growing exhaustion perhaps due to the fact that lunch was delayed by three-quarters of an hour because of the prior activity? Had I already become so accustomed to the nap that I now needed it just like the other children? After all, I would normally be in my crib by this time, and the other girls also seemed more tired than usual as we sat down for lunch.

Most likely, I was just unnecessarily worrying about having become so accustomed to life as a toddler that a nap had become indispensable for me. My tiredness was probably more attributable to the fact that I had been feeling unwell all morning. And the abdominal pain I was experiencing led me to suspect that my discomfort was likely due to the unfortunate fact that I would soon get my period.

"Anna, would you be so kind as to quickly put bibs on the children while I fetch lunch from the kitchen?" Mrs. Müller asked Viola's mother before disappearing from the room. A whiff of sweet perfume filled the air as Anna positioned herself behind me. With practiced hands, Viola's mother spread the colorful bib over me and tied it around my neck.

It was crazy, every night after I was put to bed and alone in my sister's room, I literally masturbated myself to sleep thinking about her. After weeks of sexual abstinence - with the beginning of my therapy I had lost all desire - her pure presence had managed to reawaken my lust, even though there were truly nicer things than satisfying oneself in a diaper. Not to mention the constant fear that my mother could hear me over the baby monitor. But all this had not been able to stop my lust, which was ignited by this woman.

And yet, when Anna was in the immediate vicinity at the kindergarten, I couldn't utter a single word, even though what I desired most was to get closer to her. Instead, my eyes secretly followed her at all times. This time was no different; I said nothing, only watched as she gently moved on to the rest of the children to put their bibs on. Each of her movements seemed so graceful, so full of care, that I lost myself in the silent poetry of this simple act. I could have watched her for hours, yet in the next moment all the bibs were in place, and lunch had arrived at the dining table.

It didn't take long for my fatigue to finally take over while eating. My eyes kept closing, and several times the food slipped off my spoon, landing pitifully on my bib. Mrs. Müller, of course, didn't miss this. 'Emily, more food is ending up on your bib than in your mouth. I'll take you to bed, and you can eat more later if you're still hungry,' she finally told me, after I had dozed off yet again, spilling a spoonful of pudding onto myself.

She took off my bib, led me to the changing table, put on my nightgown, and quickly checked my diaper. 'Dry. That's good,' she noted, almost more to herself than to me. She lovingly put me into my crib and placed my little teddy bear next to me. As soon as I cuddled up to him, fatigue completely overcame me, and I slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

I awoke with an unpleasant pressure in my stomach that made me wince, and realized in that same moment that I urgently needed my potty. My hands instinctively grabbed the bars of my crib, attempting to push them aside to escape my little prison, but it was futile. On my own, I couldn't get out of this damn bed.

Mrs. Müller, Mrs. Müller?' I called out softly, my voice barely louder than a gentle whisper. I didn't want to be too loud, fearing I would wake the other girls. But I needed to get out of here. My eyes scanned the room, hoping to find Mrs. Müller so she could help me out of bed and onto my potty, but the only person I saw was Viola's mother. She looked up from her smartphone at the sound of my calls, casting a questioning glance in my direction.

She set her smartphone aside, stood up, and approached me with quiet, deliberate steps. 'Is everything alright, Emily? Mrs. Müller is away for a moment, but perhaps I can help you,' she said with a loving gentleness that further twisted my insides. I would have preferred if it weren't the very woman I admired so much who had to assist me in such an intimate matter. But it seemed I had no other choice unless I wanted to risk an accident. Kneeling in the bed, my hands gripping the bars of the crib, I began to explain my dire situation. 'I really need to—,' I began, but before I could finish the sentence, the unimaginable happened.

Without me being able to do anything about it, my bowels discharged and filled all of their contents into my diaper. A feeling of warmth spread through my crotch as the pulpy mass settled between my legs. The diaper, which had already been wet before, but had nevertheless been firmly attached to my crotch, was suddenly literally pulled down by the additional weight.

I was too shocked to utter a sound. All I could do was look at Anna with horrified eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion after I had suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence. 'What do you urgently need, Emily?' she asked me, puzzled. But then, the unmistakable smell broke through the silence, explaining my situation in a way that words could not have done better. Anna's face shifted from confusion to gentle understanding. 'Ah, I see you have a full diaper, sweetheart,' she said, her voice devoid of any blame or criticism.

Tears began to flow and I was unable to withstand the wave of emotions that washed over me. Until this point, I had considered myself superior to the other children because, unlike them, I had never done my 'big business' in a diaper. Even Nora, who was already quite advanced in potty training, had once filled her diaper. Now, my last sense of superiority was shattered. I was just like all the other children here. I wore diapers, bibs, and emptied my bladder and bowels into a diaper if I wasn't put on a potty quickly enough. Mrs. Weber and my mother had been right: This group was exactly at my level of development. I belonged here.

Anna unlocked and opened the bars of my crib. 'Hey, it's not a big deal. Sometimes these things happen. It's not the end of the world,' she comforted me, taking my head gently into her hands. 'Come on, let me change your diaper quickly, and then the world will look very different.

As she helped me out of the bed and led me to the changing table, I felt the unpleasant fullness of the diaper with every movement. Every step seemed to shift the mushy mass inside my diaper, and the fact that we were moving away from the scene of the event did nothing to change the fact that the unpleasant smell of my excrements followed us at every step. I was literally disgusted by myself, and I felt so incredibly sorry for Anna, who also had to endure this stench.

Tears were still streaming down my face when I lay down on the changing table. Involuntarily, my hands clenched around my still-aching stomach after I had laid down. Anna noticed this as well. "You have a stomachache, don't you?" she asked, concerned. I could only nod. Emotionally, I was not yet able to express myself any other way.

Anna disappeared for a brief moment and then returned to me. Before I could realize what was happening, she put something into my mouth. 'This will surely help with your stomachache,' she said reassuringly as she patted my face. Only then did I realize she had just given me a pacifier—specifically, a medication pacifier.

In my current state, plagued by agonizing stomach pains, I was even willing to accept the silly pacifier. At that moment, I would have taken anything that promised potential relief. Hopeful, I began to suck on the Pacifier, and in the next moment, the sweet taste of the medication released in small doses filled my mouth. I hoped it would work quickly.

Eagerly sucking on my Pacifier, I had to watch as Viola's mother lifted my nightgown, unfastened the adhesive strips of my diaper, and exposed my feces-covered crotch. I don't think anything in my life had ever been more embarrassing. Even wetting the kitchen floor in front of my mother suddenly seemed trivial in comparison. I couldn't even count how many wet wipes Anna ended up needing to clean my crotch of my excrements, but one thing was certain: never had diaper cream and a fresh diaper felt so good afterward.

After Anna had finally changed my diaper, she didn't lead me back to my crib but to the small sofa situated in a cozy corner of the group room. She helped me lie down and covered me with a soft blanket. Then she briefly disappeared and returned with a baby bottle.

“With diarrhea, it's especially important to stay hydrated, Emily," Anna informed me. She sat down next to me on the sofa and asked me to lay my head on her lap. With a gentle motion, she removed the pacifier from my mouth and replaced it with the baby bottle of water. Embarrassed but somehow still grateful, I began to suckle on it, and the cool liquid alleviated some of the discomfort in my still-aching stomach.

My eyelids grew heavier with each sip, and fatigue seemed to be overtaking me once again. But just as I was about to drift back into sleep, the sound of a door opening jolted me awake. Mrs. Müller entered the room and looked around, puzzled. 'Is everything alright? Why isn't Emily in her bed?' she wondered. Anna looked up and replied, 'Emily had a messy diaper. I've just changed her.' Confused, Mrs. Müller looked at me. "That never happened before" she noted, "up until now, Emily has even avoided doing her big business in her potty at kindergarten."’

Indeed, up until this moment, I had done everything in my power to do my big business at home with my mother. She was the only one in front of whom I had managed to perform this degrading act on my potty. To avoid doing it in front of anyone else, I had even gone so far as to suppress the urge to go for hours on end. 'I believe Emily has diarrhea,' Anna finally explained to Mrs. Müller with compassion. But before I could catch what Mrs. Müller replied, I had already fallen back asleep.

I only awoke when Mrs. Müller called me for the afternoon snack. Unfortunately, sleep had done nothing to alleviate my stomach pains. Unsure if I even had an appetite, I dragged myself, still half-asleep and in my nightgown, to the dining area. Only when I sat down did I become aware of the unusual feeling in my mouth. To my horror, I realized that the pacifier was back between my lips. Apparently, Anna had put it back in my mouth after I had dozed off, and I had slept with it the whole time. Annoyed, I took the thing out; the medication in it was already used up, and my condition had not improved anyway. I intended to simply set the pacifier aside, but to my chagrin, I discovered that it was attached to my nightgown with a string and a clip. Just as I was about to remove the silly thing, Mrs. Müller appeared with my bib and my food portion, and the next moment, the pacifier was not only hidden under my bib but also out of my mind.

Viola and her mother had apparently already left, as they were neither at the lunch table nor anywhere else in the room. Their acclimation phase was probably not far along enough for them to spend the entire day here. Listlessly, without much appetite, I chewed on a piece of apple when I felt another cramping pain in my stomach. It took no more than a second for my bowels to empty themselves into my up-until-then clean diaper again. My faith was completely shattered. Here I was, 19 years old, with a bib around my neck and a soiled diaper around my hips.

Yet instead of reporting my mishap to Mrs. Müller so that I could quickly be changed out of my nasty, dirty diaper, I handled it like the other children here and kept my accident to myself. I knew she would sooner or later notice the state of my diaper, but out of sheer embarrassment, I couldn't bring myself to inform her about my accident. So, disgusted by the feeling between my legs and the smell surrounding me, I continued to chew my food as normal, until the moment the odor reached Mrs. Müller. What followed was the same routine that happened every time someone had soiled their diaper. Mrs. Müller asked the group who had a full diaper. As usual, no one came forward. Then she went around the table and checked each child. When she finally got to me, a quick lift of my nightgown and a glance at my diaper was all it took to identify me as the culprit. With my face flushed red, I was led to the changing table, where for the second time that day, I was freed from my smelly diaper.

No sooner had Mrs. Müller put on my fresh diaper, the door opened and my mother appeared in the room. With a concerned expression, she rushed over to me. "Emily, Mrs. Müller called me earlier and said you weren't feeling well. How are you?" she asked lovingly, as she gave me a kiss on the forehead to greet me.

"Not so good, Mom, my stomach still hurts," I answered softly, tears in my eyes. Believe it or not, a sense of relief washed over me at the sight of my mother. I was glad she had come to take me home and look after me. "Oh, my darling, everything will be alright, Mom's here," my mother comforted me, taking me lovingly into her arms. Meanwhile, Mrs. Müller explained to her once again what had happened. She told her that I had started to have stomach pains during naptime and that she had just changed my full diaper for the second time today.

My mother finally picked me up and was just about to take me out of the room when she noticed the medicated pacifier still dangling from my nightgown. "What's in this?" she asked skeptically, pointing to the pacifier. "It's a homeopathic remedy for stomach pains. Viola's mother, who's currently getting her child accustomed to the kindergarten, gave Emily this remedy because she was in so much pain," Mrs. Müller explained.

Great, just what I needed. I had hoped that Viola's mother wasn't one of those alternative medicine weirdos. But whatever, nobody's perfect. On the other hand, my mother simply nodded understandingly, as if that was the best thing that could have been done in this situation. "Please thank her for me," she said to Mrs. Müller before we left the room.

 

If you like my story and would like to support me, you can do so on Patreon (patreon.com/SweetLittleEmily). There, you will also find additional chapters, and a new chapter is published twice a month.

[CDfm]

I enjoyed the chapter. 
I wasn’t aware that the menstrual cycle caused diarrhea.  But what do I know about that.  I hope mom has a better remedy than the homeopathic one that was already tried. 
I am looking forward to reading more. 

[SweetLittleEmily]

No, at first she thought the abdominal pain was caused by her period, but in the end it was diarrhea caused by a viral infection

[SweetLittleEmily]

Chapter 19

I meticulously picked out the juiciest strawberry slices and the shiniest grapes from the colorful fruit plate in front of me, all while making a concerted effort to ensure not a single piece of grapefruit ended up on my spoon and consequently in my mouth. Although I was far from being the only child at the table with little love for this particular fruit, it seemed that no one else avoided the orange-red segments with such determination as I did.

I plucked the last, especially succulent strawberry from my plate and indulgently immersed it in my mouth. After the grueling stomach flu had stolen my appetite for days on end, the sweet berry tasted almost divine, now that I was finally feeling better.

It was a typical Friday afternoon in kindergarten, at least until the moment my mother burst through the door unexpectedly – earlier than ever before – turning my usual routine upside down. I had been certain that the day would follow its usual course - with a long, carefree playtime after the afternoon snack, as my mother usually picked up my sister and me just before the kindergarten closed. But today, it seems, I would have to forgo the afternoon playtime with my kindergarten pals.

My mother made a visible effort to exude calm as she approached me with quick steps, yet the tension she carried with her today seemed to weigh heavier on her than usual. Somewhere, deep inside me, I felt that I knew the reason for her haste and her premature arrival, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring the faded memory to the surface.

"Hello, sweetheart," my mother greeted me, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead as she, completely out of breath, reached me. "We need to hurry a little, okay?" she added hastily, half-apologetically pushing aside my plate with the remaining pieces of grapefruit, "you know, this weekend Mommy has her Continuing Legal Education, her training course and I need to get everything ready and take Sophie to her father."

That was it, what I just couldn't recall. My mother wouldn't be here this weekend, which meant that Lea, as often in recent weeks, even though she had never babysat me for an entire weekend before, would be taking care of me while my sister spent time with her father. It was inexplicable to me that I had forgotten this, despite the numerous times my mother had mentioned it. It was strange – given my current lack of activities, one would think that I wouldn't so easily forget such things. Yet, precisely because my daily life was so dictated by others, and it hardly mattered whether I remembered important events or not – since there was always someone there to manage the necessary things for me – my mind seemed to prefer focusing on the small, manageable joys of my present life: deciding which picture to color next or what game to play.

My mother quickly wiped the red strawberry stains from my lips with my bib, before skillfully untying the fabric around my neck. She briefly checked my diaper, only to find it still dry, before encouraging me to get going. "Come on, Emily, we need to leave, we don't have much time today." But just as I was getting up, Viola's mother entered the room to pick up her daughter too.

Viola's acclimatization period was now over, so she spent her days in the kindergarten without her mother, just like the other children. There were still moments when Viola missed her mother and would cry out for her, but fortunately, these moments were becoming less frequent. With each passing day, she seemed to get more accustomed to her mother's absence.

"Is your little tummy feeling better now, Emily?" Viola's mother sweetly inquired, having stepped over to us beside her daughter. My heart skipped a beat as Viola's mother spoke my name. I was still utterly smitten with this woman, and still, my tongue seemed paralyzed in her presence, especially after she had to change my full diaper a few days ago. But I didn't need to say anything, for like every toddler, I had a mother who loved nothing more than to speak for and about her child.

"Oh, thanks to Okuobaka D12 globules, Emily is feeling much better now. Emily was initially reluctant to take it, you know how children are with taking medicine, but a little of the pellets in her applesauce and in her milk, and just a few days later, everything was back to normal," she chatted away cheerfully about her more than questionable treatment method to me before I even had the chance to overcome my shyness and respond myself.

I rolled my eyes inwardly. The idea that I might have gotten better even without the remedy, and that probably the only things that really helped were time and my immune system, didn't seem to cross her mind. "I do the same with Viola. A few globules and her stomach is all better," Viola's mother agreed, to my dismay, as she too gently cleaned her daughter's face, so they could get ready to leave.

Quickly, the two of them were engrossed in a conversation about every imaginable kind of alternative treatment one could think of. Ayurveda, homeopathy, Traditional Chinese Medicine, they covered it all. No matter how much of a hurry my mother was in, she always seemed to have time for such topics. So, suddenly, we were waiting patiently until Viola and her mother were ready to leave, despite our supposed tight schedule, just so we could all walk to the foyer together. This allowed the two adults to continue their "important" conversation.

In the foyer, I sat next to my sister, who was already waiting for us, fully dressed. Then, as so often, I silently watched as my mother took off my pink princess slippers and, as a result, slipped on my Minnie Mouse shoes - a scene mirrored by Viola and her mother. I had long become accustomed to such tasks being done for me. Sometimes my mother even let me put on my shoes by myself, but not when she was in as much of a hurry as today. From her perspective, I took far too long for such mundane tasks. She was firmly convinced that everything went much faster when she did it for me.

Admittedly, lately, I had really turned into a little daydreamer, getting distracted during the simplest tasks if what was happening around me seemed more interesting. But why should I have hurried? After all, there were no longer any appointments I needed to keep. Whether I was somewhere ten minutes later or earlier made no difference to my life anymore. I was no longer blamed when we arrived late somewhere, as I was just the little child being brought by my mother or caretaker. At least that was one advantage of being a toddler. However, this did not mean that in important situations, I wasn't capable of getting things done as quickly and well as before, even if the people around me obviously no longer believed that of me.

As the two mothers lost themselves in a lively chatter about alternative treatments while tying our shoes, my mind drifted off to other worlds. I had listened to such conversations too often to feel any desire to pay them any more attention.

Instead, I found myself joyfully imagining what the weekend had in store for me. For the first time, I would have Lea all to myself, as my sister was with her father. I envisioned Lea and me embarking on an exciting treasure hunt in the garden and jumping on the trampoline as if reaching for the sky. A cozy warmth flowed through me at the thought of Lea reading to me at bedtime again, and how her voice would magically transform into various characters. I knew no one who could read aloud as well as she could.

Just as I was considering which stories I wanted Lea to read to me this weekend, the mention of my name suddenly snapped me out of my daydreaming. "You know what really helped with Emily's diaper rash...", I heard my mother say, with a casualness as if she were talking about the weather. I felt my face instantly flush red. Suddenly, I wished for nothing more than to become invisible on the spot. But to my great relief, I didn't need to, as my mother's narrative was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of her phone. For once in my life, it seemed I had luck on my side.

As she apologetically pulled out her phone and held it to her ear, I could see her facial expression shift from carefree contentment to deep concern. During the call, she only said a few words - "I see," "Oh, that's a shame," and "Get well soon" - which raised more questions than they answered. Finally, the conversation ended almost as soon as it had begun, and my mother, visibly dejected, put her phone back in her pocket.

"Is everything alright?" asked Viola's mother, who also noticed the change in my mother's mood. "Lea, our babysitter, just canceled. She's sick and can't look after Emily this weekend," my mother explained, with a hint of heaviness in her voice that immediately spread within me. I had been looking forward to Lea so much.

"Do you happen to know a babysitter who might be available on such short notice?" my mother asked Viola's mother, clearly desperate for a solution to her sudden problem. My mother's question triggered immediate panic in me. The thought of someone other than Lea taking care of me sent shivers down my spine. But, to my relief, Viola's mother just shook her head apologetically. "The only babysitters Viola has are my parents, and I don't know anyone else who babysits. I'm sorry."

"Darn, how am I going to find a babysitter for Emily on such short notice!? If I can't find anyone, I'll inevitably have to cancel my Continuing Legal Education course. Annoying, but there's nothing I can do," she sighed in frustration. Relieved that at least a stranger wouldn't be taking care of me, I breathed a sigh of relief. Only to realize the next moment how crazy the whole situation was. It didn't seem to be even considered that I, in this emergency, could spend the weekend alone. My mother was even willing to cancel her course rather than leave me, a 19-year-old woman, alone.

The worst part, however, was that at that moment I even doubted myself about managing alone. Someone had to change my diapers, dress me, keep me clean, and put me to bed. Deep down, I knew I could do all that by myself, but after weeks of being treated as a toddler, I lacked the deep conviction that this was really the case. What if everyone around me was right, and I really couldn't survive on my own? What if I found myself completely alone and was then helpless? The mere thought of it overwhelmed me and as embarrassing as it was to admit, at that moment I was glad that my mother wouldn't allow me to spend the weekend alone.

Viola's mother, her expression marked by genuine empathy, seemed to truly understand my mother's predicament. You could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she searched for possible alternatives. Then, out of the blue, she came up with an idea: "How about I take care of Emily this weekend?" My mother immediately shook her head vehemently. "Oh no, I really can't accept that. It's too much to ask," she responded quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of refusal. But Viola's mother was persistent. "It would really be no problem," she insisted, "I know what it's like to be a single mother on your own. I would be happy to help you!"

And to my astonishment, after a moment of internal struggle, my mother actually relented. "That's really incredibly kind of you. I don't know how I can thank you," she said, her face suddenly beaming with gratitude. Inside me, however, was a tumult of emotions. The very woman for whom my heart beat was going to take care of me this weekend and ensure that I continued playing the role of a toddler. My mind was on a rollercoaster at the thought of spending an entire weekend with my crush. At first, it almost sounded like a dream, like a scene from my deepest fantasies. But I knew that for Viola's mother, it was not the same. For her, it was probably just a weekend of taking care of an additional toddler and therefore having one more child to diaper. I longed for her closeness, but only if she saw me for what I really was, an intelligent, attractive woman, and not a little child.

During the drive home, I sat quietly, strapped into my child seat in the back of our car, torn by what awaited me. As soon as we arrived home, my mother began packing our things for the weekend in the room I shared with Sophie. In the past, of course, I would have packed my things myself. But that had long since changed. Now, such tasks no longer fell within my responsibilities. I could only watch as my mother made the necessary preparations for my absence, while Sophie and I were allowed to play with our dolls on the floor of the room.

First, after fetching a suitcase for me and one for Sophie, my mother pulled out one of my onesies, adorned with pink princesses, and a matching skirt from a compartment in the changing table. "This is cute, we'll take this," she murmured more to herself as she arranged the clothes in the small suitcase beside her. Silently, I had to watch as she next added a red dress with a kitten print to the suitcase. "And this one," she said, without even seeking my gaze or asking for my opinion. What I thought of these clothes didn't matter, and ultimately it was almost irrelevant, as the only clothes I would have really wanted to wear for the weekend at Viola's mother’s were locked away in my room.

With each piece she chose, my heart sank deeper towards the floor. Just the thought of spending the weekend at Viola's mother's house in these outfits made my stomach churn. Obliviously, without even noticing my inner disapproval, my mother added to the suitcase's contents with another purple dress, followed by a pair of Minnie Mouse shorts with buttons at the bottom and a matching T-shirt. Each piece she packed was designed so that my diaper could be changed if needed, without having to remove anything. It seemed I almost only owned such clothing now. They had become as much a part of me as my diapers. To top it all off, she pulled out my new, one-piece mermaid pajamas and stuffed them in with the rest of the things.

Then, she packed Sophie's suitcase. I glanced enviously at the cheerful, colorful underpants with childish motifs that she was packing for her, only to have to watch shortly after as my mother stored my own "underwear" - which were nothing more than diapers - in Sophie's former diaper bag. Diapers adorned with little mermaids, princesses, and animals gradually found their way into the diaper bag. When my mother finally decided enough diapers were packed for the weekend, the bag was so bulging that she could barely close it. At that moment, I would have sold my soul to the devil just to be able to swap suitcases with Sophie.

Finally, my mother also fetched my potty and placed it next to my suitcase so she wouldn't forget to take it later. I felt the heat rush to my face at the thought of having to use the potty for my big business in front of Viola's mother. When my mother then reached for my teddy bear on the bed, my frustration reached its boiling point. This was too much. "Mum, I... I don't want to take my teddy bear," I begged her.

My mother looked at me in disbelief, as if she could not comprehend the world anymore. "But you fall asleep with him every night, don't you think you'd miss him, and he'd miss you, if you weren't together this weekend?" It was quite possible that I would miss him, but my 19-year-old self wanted to preserve at least a last shred of dignity. It was bad enough that I had adapted so much to my role that I only fell asleep with a stuffed animal at kindergarten and at home.

"No, really, I don't want to take him. It's... embarrassing," I tried to explain the situation to her, but my mother didn't seem to think it was a good idea to let me sleep somewhere else without my favorite stuffed animal. "You don't need to be embarrassed, Emily. Even Sophie packed her stuffed animal." She said this in a tone that suggested if even my sister, who unlike me was potty-trained, brought along a stuffed toy, there was no reason it should be a problem for me. "I'll pack it just in case. If you don't need it, you can just leave it in your bag." And so, to my regret, she also placed the bear in my suitcase.

Resigned, I turned back to playing with Sophie, needing somehow to distract myself from my humiliating existence. Playing had long evolved from a simple pastime into a true refuge for me. It represented the only way to leave my bleak reality behind. I could have never imagined finding so much comfort in it, but that was how it was.

Sophie had already prepared a little tea party for us and our dolls. One of the dolls, a princess with an elegant, red dress and long, blonde hair, was already seated at the small doll table, and Sophie had set up four sets of tiny cups and plates for us. I picked up my favorite doll, also a princess but wearing a yellow dress and with dark hair, and joined them.

"Princess Lila and I would be delighted if Princess Rosalinde and you would come to our tea party," Sophie said, turning to me with a sparkle in her eyes that made me forget my frustration momentarily. With a finely feigned, aristocratic voice, I responded, pretending as if my doll in my hand was speaking: "Thank you for the invitation, Princess Lila and Sophie. Emily and I would be pleased to be your guests."

We delved deeper and deeper into our fantasy world. After our tea, we went on a quest for an imaginary treasure and fought against an evil dragon. I had to become a toddler again to realize how wonderful it was to lose oneself in one's own fantasy worlds. I was so engrossed in the game that I didn't even notice our mother stepping up beside us after she had finished packing our stuff. "Are you two playing nicely together?" she finally asked, after a moment of quietly and contentedly watching us play. I nodded enthusiastically, and Sophie agreed as well. "Yes, Mom! We found a treasure and defeated a dragon," Sophie reported proudly.

"Wow, great," our mother said with feigned, exuberant enthusiasm. "I need to pack a few things for myself. Can you two stay here and be good while I quickly go to my bedroom?" We both nodded, "Wonderful," my mother said, before her gaze turned to me. "Let me just quickly check if you're still dry, Emily." She bent down and meticulously inspected my diaper. She didn't even need to undo the buttons on my crotch to realize that my diaper should have been changed long ago.

Enviously, I watched Sophie as my mother led me to the changing table, Princess Rosalinde tightly clutched in my hands. Despite the discomfort of my wet diaper already irritating my skin, I was far from happy about the prospect of spending the next few minutes on the dull, boring changing table. I longed to continue playing with the dolls on the floor like Sophie, to further escape the dreary reality. "You'll still have plenty of time to play once you have a clean diaper on," my mother tried to soften my clear reluctance to the diaper change. "Yes, but while Princess Rosalinde and I are stuck on the changing table, Sophie and Princess Lila will probably be having exciting adventures without us," I retorted with a tinge of annoyance. "Oh, don't worry," my mother reassured me with a smile, "they're likely to take a little tea break and wait with further adventures until you two are able to join them again."

But I had my doubts. Too many times, I had already missed out on the greatest adventures of the two, whether because I was being changed or already in bed, and there was hardly anything more frustrating than only hearing about the experiences later, without having been part of them myself. The fear of missing yet another exciting adventure flooded my mind as the snaps of my onesie were opened. In my desperation, I tried to keep Sophie and Princess Lila in sight, determined to ensure that they really were just having tea during my absence.

Therefore, my mother had some trouble unfastening the adhesive strips of my diaper, as I kept sitting up to ensure I didn't miss what was happening on the floor. It didn't bother me when she finally managed to remove my soaked diaper, exposing my bare bottom - this had long become normal for me. No, what irritated me was that because of the silly diaper change, I couldn't continue playing with Sophie and would probably miss out on an exciting adventure. In my fantasy world, I was a brave adventurer, no obstacle too great, not a 19-year-old still wetting herself. So, it was unbearable for me to have to leave my wonderful dream world for something that was none of my concern and not my problem. And by now, a wet diaper was my mother's problem, not mine.

My eagerness not to miss anything that Princess Lila and Sophie were doing made it impossible for me to stay still on the changing table, even after my diaper was undone. Again and again, I stretched up or turned to the side, as I couldn't see what was happening on the floor below otherwise. "Emily, can you please stay still for a moment so I can clean you up properly? It's difficult when you keep wriggling like this," my mother gently explained, and once more spread my legs apart after I had closed them again in an attempt to sit up better.

Annoyed, I gave in briefly and stayed still so that my mother could wipe the last bits of urine and baby powder from my vulva and bottom with the unpleasantly cold wet wipe. But as soon as she bent down to grab a fresh diaper, I seized the opportunity to sit up again and peek at Sophie. I had been right – of course, they weren't just sitting quietly drinking tea; they were far from the tea table, embarking on God knows what kind of adventure. "You see, Princess Rosalinde, they've just set off without us," I explained frustratedly to the doll in my arms.

My mother let out a near sigh as she stood back up and noticed that I had once again abandoned my position on the changing table. "Look, Emily, I've picked out the diaper with the little princesses for you. With this diaper, you're just as much a princess as Rosalinde and Lila, and if you stay still for a little bit longer, you can show it to the other two," she tried to coax me into calmness. But her words didn't really reach me. All I cared about was what was happening on the floor. "Princess Lila and Sophie are no longer at the tea table and are probably having an adventure without Princess Rosalinde and me," I explained the situation to her in frustration, without really responding to her words. I was already trying to get up and walk off the changing table with Princess Rosalinde to join their adventure, completely ignoring the fact that my crotch was currently completely bare, but my mother firmly pushed me back into position. "Emily, you can continue playing with them in a minute, but right now you need to stay still so I can finish diapering you!" she admonished me, now with a much more serious expression.

I stayed on the changing table, but staying still was something I just couldn't manage. "Emily, please stay still!" she admonished me again, now visibly annoyed, as she struggled to spread the diaper under me while I incessantly tried to peek at Sophie and Princess Lila. Reluctantly, I let her proceed for a moment, only to sit up again as soon as she came with the baby powder. "Emily, Mommy doesn't have all day to change your diaper! You know I still have a lot to do, please stay lying down now!" she said, now clearly irritated, and pushed me back into the correct position. "But Mum, I just want to see what Princess Lila and Sophie are doing. Maybe the evil dragon has reappeared. Maybe they need our help!" I protested and sat up again.

But this time, my mother had enough. "Emily, that's enough! If you don't stay still, you'll be sitting in the quiet corner for the next 10 minutes, and no more doll playing for today! Understood!?" she made it unequivocally clear. Bitterly, I lay back down. "Then it's your fault if they fall victim to the dragon," I said defiantly, but let her proceed, so she finally managed to finish diapering me.

"See how quickly it goes if you just keep still. You could have been back to playing much sooner if you had just stayed still," my mother explained, exhausted, after she had closed the snaps of my onesie. She lifted me onto her hip and brought me back to Sophie and Princess Lila, along with Princess Rosalinde, whom I was still holding in my arms. "Look, Sophie and Princess Lila," she said affectionately, as she gently set me down next to Sophie on the floor, "Emily is now a real princess too because she's wearing special underwear reserved only for true princesses!" She then lifted my skirt to reveal my princess-themed diaper, which cheekily peeked out from under my onesie in some places.

Ashamed, I lowered my gaze. Even in my fantasy world, this was too embarrassing for me. But contrary to my expectation, I wasn’t laughed at for my undergarment. "How delightful to see you safely back from your journey, Princess Emily," Sophie greeted me with respect instead. For the rest of our playtime, I was indeed Princess Emily, and at least in that moment, my underwear was no longer a source of embarrassment. On the contrary, I proudly incorporated it into our game, showing it off to anyone we encountered on our adventure who didn’t believe I was a real princess. Meanwhile, our mother disappeared from our room, taking care of all those things we as children didn't have to worry about.

It's strange how differently you perceive the world as a child. In the past, I probably would have been just as stressed as my mother, trying to get everything ready in time for our departure. But now I was free of these constraints. I was aware of how stressed my mother was and how many things she had to do, but it didn’t really penetrate my perfect world. While my mother packed bags, searched for things, and even prepared dinner in between, the only thing I had to worry about was distracting myself enough with games so that I didn't get bored – and it was no different for Sophie. So, it was no surprise that after dinner, we got into the car deeply relaxed, while our mother, sweaty and rushed, heaved our suitcases into the car.

Gathering her remaining strength, my mother helped me into my child seat, while Sophie on the other side of the car was already climbing into hers independently. It was a routine procedure, almost mechanical, as my mother leaned over me and fastened the belt across my lap. But in that moment, a realization struck me like a bolt. Why was I always buckled in first and not Sophie? I recalled our recent car rides, only to realize that I had always been the first to be strapped in. Hadn't it been different at the beginning?

Disgruntled that I had been forced into the role of the needier, younger sister in yet another aspect, I looked at the belt that tied me tightly to my child seat. It pertly pushed up my skirt, involuntarily exposing the crotch of my onesie. My princess diaper, which had underscored my noble, aristocratic status in the game and of which I had been so proud, was now grotesquely squeezed out at the sides of my onesie by the tight belt, suddenly losing all its royal semblance. Instead, it became a blatant symbol of my lack of independence. Disheartened, I looked over at my sister, from whose belt no diaper bulged. How could I blame my mother for seeing me as the one who needed more care, when I was so clearly lagging behind my sister in toilet training? Yet, I felt provoked by the fact that she now demoted me on so many subtle levels compared to my sister, just because I was not potty-trained like her.

Once Sophie was securely fastened in her seat, we set off towards Viola's mother's house. Only after dropping me off there would my mother take Sophie to her father and then head to her course. With every meter closer to Viola's mother's house, I could feel my mouth becoming drier. After the carefree play with Sophie, during which I had been able to completely block out the sobering reality of my existence, I was now truly back in the here and now, and the regained awareness of my absurd role seemed to literally steal my saliva. Thanks for nothing, sympathetic nervous system.

Inevitably, my eyes caught the multivitamin juice lying in the compartment next to my mother. "Mum, could I please have the juice?" I asked, hoping to alleviate the excruciating dryness in my mouth. My mother cast a brief, slightly skeptical glance in the rearview mirror, but then reached for the bottle. "But be careful, Emily," she cautioned me, her voice tinged with a distinct undertone of maternal distrust regarding my dexterity, as she handed me the drink.

A hint of defiance was in my voice as I retorted, "I can still drink without spilling anything, even if you might doubt that." Determinedly, I lifted the bottle to my lips and took a sip, reinforcing my claim. "See," I announced heroically, "I drank and everything stayed dry."

Forests, meadows, and fields passed by as we drove through the landscape. Yet, my nervousness persisted, and it didn't get any better when I relieved myself in my diaper halfway through the journey. Not that I wasn't accustomed to using my diaper. But I had still hoped to at least stay dry until we arrived at Viola's mother's, even though I had long lost control over that. It was anything but helpful for my inner tension to arrive at my crush's place, not only in my childlike appearance but also in a wet diaper. I had firmly intended to show Viola's mother that I was by no means a small, dependent child, as it might have appeared in kindergarten.

"Emily, can I have a sip of the juice too?" Sophie interrupted my train of thought. I passed her the juice without comment, and my mother didn't object either. It was typical that she, of course, didn't caution Sophie to be careful, even though, if anyone was likely to spill the juice, it was my little sister. With a spiteful hope that she would spill the juice on her blue shirt, I watched her bring the too-large bottle to her lips with her small hands. I loved playing with Sophie and knew that it wasn't her fault how I was treated, but it didn't change the feeling of envy I had towards her because of her countless privileges. But, unfortunately, she handed the bottle back to me without spilling a single drop. Annoyed, I took the bottle back and took another sip to alleviate the still-dry feeling in my mouth.

"Your destination is on the right," announced the softly modulated, female voice of the navigation system, as we slowly approached a tiny house at the end of a quaint village street. In that moment, enveloped in an almost tangible tension, I wished for nothing more than to jump out of the moving car and escape the impending situation. But the child locks on both the back door and my seat unfortunately deprived me of this means of escape.

My mouth was completely dry as we drove onto the uneven driveway of the little house. Instinctively, I pressed the bottle in my hand to my lips again, taking a deep, long gulp in hopes of somehow swallowing down the rising unease. I tried to convince myself that I would get through this weekend, just as I had overcome every unpleasant situation during my therapy. But just as I removed the bottle from my lips, our car hit a pothole, and a wave of the remaining juice in the bottle spilled over my white onesie. Great, just what I needed.

 

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[SweetLittleEmily]

Chapter 20

I felt like a drenched poodle when the car came to a stop the next moment, and my mother looked back at me with her typical, reproachful "I-told-you-so" glance. My onesie was a complete disaster after the juice accident – thoroughly soaked and marked by a large, conspicuous orange-red stain. "It was just because of that stupid pothole," I tried to defend myself. However, my mother wasn't interested in my excuses. "It's alright, Emily. You don't need to justify yourself. I'm the only one to blame for your mishap, after all, I gave you the juice bottle despite knowing better," she said resignedly, which only made things more uncomfortable for me. She didn’t even seem to attribute enough maturity to me to hold me accountable for such mishaps. "At least the car seats were spared," she merely sighed in relief as she wearily got out of the car and went to the trunk.

As soon as my mother reached the trunk and began unloading my things, Viola's mother appeared in the doorway. She was, as always, a vision of absolute beauty. In her simple yet elegantly casual black leggings and relaxed red hoodie, with her dark hair carelessly tied into a ponytail, she exuded an effortless grace that was unparalleled. Despite the simplicity of her outfit, she looked as if she had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.

I was utterly enchanted by her presence. I simply had to win this woman over. Never before in my life had I been so smitten with someone. Painfully, though, I became aware of my own appearance. I was the exact opposite of her flawless presence. My wet, stained onesie, more resembling a botched painting, lacked any semblance of grace. The fact that my hair was completely tousled after a day full of play and fun didn't help matters. I looked like a child in dire need of a bath, and unfortunately, I felt like one too.

Regardless, all was not lost; I hadn't yet been rejected by Viola's mother. After all, she didn't even know about my feelings for her. Arriving soaking wet and in a wet diaper was certainly not advantageous, but it wasn't the end of the world. There was still a chance to win her heart. However, I surely wouldn't achieve that by continuing to behave like a three-year-old in front of her. I would have to shed the role I had so fully embraced for the next few days. From now on, I resolved to be the nineteen-year-old Emily from before the therapy again, a young woman who had possessed enough maturity to successfully complete her high school diploma. I just needed to pull myself together. It couldn't be that hard. I was still the same person as before.

As soon as Viola's mother stepped out of the door, she joined my mother in bringing my things into the house. I would have liked to immediately live up to my own, new standard and help them like a true adult. But my child seat unfortunately prevented me from doing so. As long as no one decided it was time to free me from it, I could only sit still and watch them carry my belongings into the house, all thanks to the damned child safety features.

After the luggage was stored, my mother came back and freed me from my child seat. As so often after releasing me from the car, she reached for my hand to lead me to Viola's mother, who was already waiting in the doorway. But this time, I immediately pulled my hand back and declared with a defiant tone, "I don't need to be taken by the hand, I can walk on my own!" I had hoped this would make me appear mature and independent in front of Viola's mother. Instead, my protest sounded more like the grumbling of a rebellious toddler, even to my own ears. "Great job, Emily," I scolded myself internally, "that's surely not the way to win her heart."

My mother sighed so loudly that even Viola's mother heard it. "It really shows that it's way past your bedtime, Emily. You're not usually this fussy," she remarked wearily. It couldn't get much worse. Persistently, my mother took my hand again despite my previous objection - I was by then far too embarrassed in front of Viola's mother to dare defy her again - and handed me over, along with the child seat she was carrying in her other hand, to Viola's mother, who promptly also took my hand.

"I'm really sorry that Emily is all messed up," my mother apologized as she handed me over, "she was thirsty and I didn't have a bottle for her. Naively, I let her drink from a regular juice bottle that I had brought for myself, hoping she would be careful. And then, of course, exactly what was bound to happen, happened." She gestured to the stain on my onesie, as if Viola's mother hadn't already noticed it. "Her diaper is, I believe, unfortunately also wet again."

I didn't know where to look anymore, so overwhelmed with embarrassment. Things couldn't have gone worse. Yet, Viola's mother responded with a smile that radiated pure understanding. "You really don't need to apologize. That's just how it is with kids. They always create chaos exactly when you can least afford it. I know this all too well myself. I'll take care of the onesie and the diaper right away." "Thank you! She really should have been in bed a long time ago," my mother added, in a tone as if it was the most natural thing for a 19-year-old girl, "So you can just put her in her pajamas afterward."

My mother casually inquired if Viola was already in bed, as she couldn't see her. "I hope so," replied Viola's mother, "but I don't really know. She's spending this weekend at my parents', and who knows how seriously they'll take her bedtime." My mother seemed momentarily taken aback. "Oh, I didn't realize you would have had the weekend off from parenting. It wasn't my intention to ruin your free weekend. Now I feel terrible." I felt equally guilty. The poor woman was stuck with me instead of being able to enjoy her free weekend.

"It's really no problem," Viola's mother assured, "I didn't even know what to do with all the free time. I'm looking forward to taking care of Emily." My mother didn't seem convinced, but a glance at her watch reminded her that she had to leave. She briefly opened Sophie's door so I could say goodbye to my sister. "Bye, Sophie," I said in a soft voice. "Bye, Princess Emily," Sophie cheerfully called back, much to my displeasure, before her door was closed again. That was just what I needed.

"The two of them are just crazy about everything to do with princesses, castles, treasures, and dragons, you see," my mother explained Sophie's princess address to Viola's mother, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes it feels like their whole world revolves around that." My face turned even redder than it already was. I had wanted to appear mature and adult in front of Viola's mother, not like a little girl playing princess games. Thanks a lot, Sophie!

After a quick goodbye kiss and a cautionary "Be good," my mother hurried back to the car and drove away with Sophie. As soon as my mother's car disappeared, Viola's mother excitedly pulled me into the house. "Come, Princess Emily, you surely want to inspect your residence for this weekend," she playfully adopted my sister's princess address. This was not how I had imagined our first moment alone together.

I had hoped that we would meet as equals once my mother was gone. Instead, she continued to treat me like a little child. "Welcome to our palace," she added, staying true to her newly adopted role, as she closed the door behind me and led me into the building. I wished I had been confident enough to speak openly with her, to make it clear that I was not a toddler and that she could talk to me normally, but instead, I just followed her meekly and intimidated.

The house was really everything but a palace. It was probably the smallest house I had ever entered. It felt almost tiny. Yet, the building undeniably had a certain charm, even if it was a bit dated.

As if she was giving a room tour through an extravagant villa, Viola's mother led me through her home. "This is our kitchen-living room," she told me, gesturing grandly to the small space that had appeared right behind the front door. "When our servants aren't preparing meals here or we're being entertained by our court jesters in the living room, Princess Viola and I often have grand dinner parties, you know. When Princess Viola and I host another one, you must definitely come too, Princess Emily!" I nodded awkwardly, unsure if they actually sometimes held parties here, or if it was just part of Viola and her mother's imaginative playful adventures. It was hard to imagine that this small room could accommodate more than five people.

Despite its small size, the room felt inviting and cozy, undoubtedly due to the elegant, light wooden furniture that adorned it. "Most of the furniture here was handcrafted by my father," she revealed to me as I admired the impressive wall unit in the living room. "I even helped build the wall unit," she added with visible pride.

Hand in hand, she then led me to the next room. "And here we enter our spacious, luxurious spa," she announced with a wink, while presenting the small bathroom. The tiles, obviously not updated since the 80s, gave the room an unintentional retro charm. The toilet, sink, and bathtub were fitted into such a tight space that there was hardly any room left to move around. "Our exclusive wellness oasis has everything a modern princess could need. If you're craving a fragrant rose bath, don't hesitate to let me know, Princess," she explained with a twinkle in her eye before pulling me into the next room.

"And here," Viola's mother said finally with a theatrical gesture as she led me into her daughter's room, "you will find your royal sleeping quarters for the weekend, Princess Emily." The room looked like something out of a children's book. Vivid colors adorned the walls and furniture, and in every corner, one could spot dolls and stuffed animals. Against one wall of the room stood a wardrobe, opposite a changing table, and on the third wall a bed, which seemed to be about the size of my own child's bed at home. Everything was clearly handmade from solid wood.

"I hope the bed is soft enough for you, Princess. We all know how sensitive a princess's back can be," she joked, referencing the fairy tale of The Princess and the Pea. But at that moment, I wasn't concerned about the bed's comfort, but rather the fact that I would be spending my nights in another child's bed – even one with rails on the sides. If I hadn't been able to prevent being treated like a toddler here, I had at least hoped not to have to sleep like one. It wouldn't have mattered to me whether my nighttime accommodations were a sofa, a folding bed, or the floor, just as long as it didn’t remind me of children. At least Viola's bed was open at the top, so I wouldn't feel entirely trapped in a cage like my bed in kindergarten.

"The bed was a first birthday gift from my father to Viola," Viola's mother explained, breaking character for the first time. "You can't imagine how long we argued about it. He insisted on building her a new bed for her birthday, saying Viola was too big for a normal crib by then. But I thought Viola was still too small to sleep without rails. Well, eventually we compromised. She got a new bed with a larger mattress, where the rails can be attached or removed as needed, and we were both happy." She pointed to the rail on the bed. "Sometimes," she explained, "when Viola refuses to sleep and keeps getting up, I put all the rails back on. But usually, like now, the middle rails are removed, so she can get out of bed on her own if she wants, but there’s no risk of her accidentally falling out while sleeping."

"Viola loves the bed, especially because there's enough space for all her stuffed animals. Sometimes I wonder how she even finds room to sleep, she has so many in there," she smiled. Indeed, the bed was literally covered with stuffed animals. "But don't worry, I'll clear some of them away before you go to bed."

"Speaking of going to bed, I think it's time for you, Princess Emily, to freshen up," Viola's mother said with a smile, nodding towards the stain on my onesie. "And we should get you into your nightwear. It has really gotten late! Just a moment, I'll quickly fetch your luggage." She left the room and returned with all my things.

I had gotten used to being changed by various people; it didn't bother me anymore as it had become a regular part of my daily routine. Yet, in that moment, as she helped me onto the changing table, I felt nervous, almost uncomfortable, even though she had changed me twice before.

Carefully, she took off my skirt and the stained onesie and put them in the laundry. "You really wear the clothing of a true princess," she remarked affectionately, probably hoping that would finally encourage me to open up a bit more to her, as my diaper with the little princesses on it came into view. But her words did not make me feel any more inclined to interact with her than before. On the contrary, they only made me more aware of my situation.

Lying on the changing table in just my diaper, in front of the person I admired, I felt utterly exposed. All my plans to be treated as an adult had fallen apart. Viola's mother recognized my obvious discomfort but interpreted it as childish shyness. "You don't need to be shy with me, Emily," she gently said, stroking my face. "I'll take care of you just as well as your mother or your kindergarten teachers. And you can have just as much fun with me as you do with them," she said with a loving smile. Yet, I remained silent. In this situation, I wasn't in the mood for fun. I wanted to be treated as an equal, and that wasn't possible when I was spoken to like a child.

"Oh, Emily," she said, noticing that her words hadn't brightened my mood, "there's really no reason to look so glum. Do you know what happens to little girls who are grumpy on the changing table?" She looked at me expectantly. Uninterested and indifferent, I shook my head. Couldn't she just change me quickly and leave me alone otherwise?

"The tickle monster attacks them," she revealed, and before I knew it, she began to tickle me wildly all over. My laughter echoed through the room. I wriggled and tried to escape her grasp, but it was impossible. My tension and gloom dissipated in the laughter, becoming meaningless. Suddenly, my only concern was to evade the tickling assault. "Please, please, I surrender!" I managed to say, laughing between breaths. And to my relief, she then stopped tickling.

Breathless but smiling, I lay there. "So, did the tickle monster work its magic?" Viola's mother asked, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked, confused. "It's the best cure for a bad mood," she explained. She was right, my mood had indeed improved. For a brief moment, I had even forgotten why I had been in such a bad mood. But as I remembered the cause again, my thoughts darkened once more.

"Do you still feel uncomfortable, Emily? The tickle monster can come back for another visit," she said, and immediately started to tickle me again, making me burst into laughter once more. "No, please no more tickling. I'm quite happy now; the tickle monster can rest," I giggled, exhausted.

Satisfied, she stopped. Before my laughter had completely subsided, Viola's mother shifted the conversation to another topic. "Would you like to watch an episode of Pajanimals after brushing your teeth, or would you prefer to go straight to bed?" she asked, preempting any chance for me to dwell on my earlier mood. "Watch Pajanimals, of course!" I blurted out immediately. What kind of question was that, in what world would I want to go to bed earlier than necessary? Viola's mother smiled amusedly as she undid the adhesive strips of my diaper and exposed my bottom. "How could I not have thought of that," she shook her head playfully, "but you wouldn't want a bedtime story afterward, would you?" "Oh, but I do! I always get a story after Pajanimals!" I exclaimed, offended.

"Well, then I certainly wouldn't want to deprive you of that," she replied cheerily, tossing the wet diaper into the diaper pail. She picked one of the diapers decorated with mermaids from my diaper bag. "So your underwear matches your lovely romper," she explained affectionately, spreading the diaper beneath me. Skillfully, she cleaned my diaper area and then let the baby powder fall like fine snow over my crotch, before securing the diaper with practiced movements.

Before I had time to ponder why she referred to my nightwear as a 'romper', as one would describe a baby's clothing, even though it accurately described my new pajamas with mermaids and integrated footies, Viola's mother already posed the next question. "Did you see Pajanimals yesterday? Viola and I missed it, and I'm wondering what happened," she asked, feigning interest as adults often do with children, as she helped me into my nightwear, preventing me from questioning my childlike role again.

"Oh, it was a story about a ..." I began eagerly narrating. As I detailed the episode to her, she led me to the bathroom and helped me brush my teeth. Freshly diapered, dressed in my nightwear, and with clean teeth, I felt almost magically the tiredness seep into my limbs. It was impressive how deeply I had internalized the bedtime routine. Only the fact that I was at my crush's house kept me less tired than usual. So, during Pajanimals, unlike usual, I didn’t keep dozing off. I even felt wide awake when Viola's mother tucked me into bed after the show.

"Look who's already waiting for you in bed," she said with a smile, helping me climb into the bed between the removed bars. I felt a bit embarrassed to notice that among all of Viola's stuffed animals, my teddy bear, which my mother had packed in my bag, was also there. On one hand, its presence made me uncomfortable; on the other, I was glad to see a familiar face in this unfamiliar environment. Now it didn't really matter anyway.

"Shall I read you the story of Frederick?" Viola's mother asked, pointing to the book my mother had added to my suitcase without my noticing. "Oh yes, please!" I replied, elated. I had feared I might have to listen to one of Viola's baby stories.

Her voice softly echoed through the room as she read the familiar story of Frederick, who collected rays of sunshine. I couldn't help myself and burst out several times: "Now he's collecting light!" or "Now come the colors!" Viola's mother laughed and playfully began to change the story to tease me. "And then Frederick decided to collect chocolate instead of sun rays." "No, he doesn't do that!" I protested indignantly. I had long since forgotten that I had intended to behave maturely and adult-like around her. I had slipped back into my routine role without even realizing it.

Despite her soothing voice and the familiar story, I couldn't fall asleep throughout the entire tale. "Are you still not tired, Emily?" Viola's mother asked as she finally closed the book. I shook my head. The sleepiness was there, but it seemed to be held back by an invisible barrier, almost as if I had drunk too much coffee, even though it had been weeks since I last had caffeine.

"I think I have an idea," she said, standing up. She picked out an audiobook from the shelf. "Viola always listens to this when she can't sleep." Then, she turned on a soft night light that bathed the room in a calming twilight. "Try to relax and listen to the story," she said, lovingly stroking my head. "Good night, Emily. Sweet dreams," she bid farewell, turned on the baby monitor, and left the room, while the gentle sounds of the audiobook floated through the space.

As I listened to the audiobook, designed for children Viola's age and far below my level of interest in its simplicity, I clung to my teddy bear. It was so monotonous and childish that it was almost painful. Yet, at the end of the story, as silence filled the room again, I was still wide awake in my bed.

The lack of distraction led me to ponder once more over my situation. I had obviously failed to meet Viola's mother as an equal. That couldn't be changed now, but should I therefore bury all my hopes? Just a few meters away from me was the woman I secretly adored, and I could think of nothing better to do than lie silently in my bed. How often would such an opportunity arise to get closer to her? It would be crazy not to take the initiative now.

"Okay, Teddy Bear, I'm going to get up for a bit; you'll have to fall asleep without me tonight. I'm sure you can do it!" I whispered my farewell to my stuffed animal before making my move. Holding my breath, I climbed out of the bed, the rustling of my diaper intermittently breaking the silence. My outfit, a childlike pajama with integrated footies and a diaper, was far from what I had envisioned for seducing the woman of my dreams, but it was all I had. And I didn't feel confident enough to mimic Barney Stinson's 'naked man' approach in front of Viola's mother.

On tiptoes, I sneaked towards the living room. There, cuddled on the sofa, was Viola's mother, her eyes fixed on the TV. I stopped, transfixed, and watched her. In the flickering TV light, her face appeared as if bathed in soft moonlight, mysterious and enchanting. A gentle smile played on her lips as something on the TV made her laugh. It was a simple, carefree smile that softened her features and made her look even more beautiful than she already was. In that moment, she was so mesmerizing that it took my breath away.

Suddenly, she noticed me. "Oh, Emily, what are you doing up so late?" she asked, surprised, and her smile instantly disappeared. I stood there, unsure how to respond to her question. Now was the time to stay cool. "I can't sleep and thought maybe I could watch some TV with you," I said, trying to sound as adult as possible, even though I was aware that my childlike pajamas and the rustling diaper underneath hardly conveyed the image of an adult.

"Oh Emily, you should be asleep by now. It's much too late for you to be watching TV," Viola's mother replied gently but firmly. "But I'm not tired," I retorted defiantly, immediately regretting my tone – I had wanted to sound mature and convincing.

"Wait here, I'll warm up a bottle of milk for you, it always helps Viola," she said and disappeared into the kitchen. This was not the outcome I had hoped for. Shortly afterward, she returned with the warm bottle, took my hand, and led me to the sofa. "Come, I'll give you your bottle here."

Although I had initially had something else in mind, as she gently laid my head in her lap and gave me the bottle, I still felt a deep satisfaction, snuggled up so close to her. However, I was less thrilled when she stopped her movie and switched to another episode of Pajanimals instead. How I longed to watch something that wasn't designed for children.

The sleepiness that my body had held back for so long now seemed to overwhelm me as I suckled on the warm milk, nestled in her warm lap. I wanted to savor this moment, to stay awake, but my eyes grew heavier with each passing moment before I finally drifted softly into the land of dreams.

 

If you like my story and would like to support me, you can do so on Patreon (patreon.com/SweetLittleEmily). There, you will also find additional chapters, and a new chapter is published twice a month.

[vannispe]

Great Chapter! I'm excited to see the story continue 

[SweetLittleEmily]

Chapter 21

When I woke up the next morning, I was initially unsure if I was still dreaming. The first thing I saw was the face of Viola's mother, a vision of angelic perfection, hovering right above me. Her smile was gentle, her voice soft as she spoke to me: "Time to wake up, Emily." It took a moment for my mind to clear, and I realized that I was no longer lying in her lap on the sofa, but in Viola's crib. I vaguely remembered how she had carried me to bed in a half-sleep after I had fallen asleep while drinking milk.

"Did you have nice dreams, Emily?" she asked me affectionately, still leaning over the bars of my bed, pulling back my blanket to reveal my mermaid romper. Sleepily, I just shrugged my shoulders. I couldn't remember any dreams at that moment. How could I judge whether they had been pleasant? "You must have had wonderful dreams, considering how soundly you slept," she said with a smile, tenderly tucking a strand of her long, black hair behind her ear, before my loudly rumbling stomach drew the attention.

"Oh, someone is very hungry?" she giggled. Her eyes playfully shifted from me to my teddy bear, which was in my arms. "Now, whose stomach was that? Yours or your teddy's?" she asked with feigned seriousness and began to gently tickle my belly, looking back and forth between me and my teddy bear in mock surprise. I wriggled helplessly, unable to escape her loving grasp, as my laughter echoed through the room. "Such loud rumbling, that can only come from a bear, right!? Is your teddy as hungry as a bear?" she speculated; her eyes widened as if she truly didn't know whose stomach had made the noise. Giggling, I played along with her game and nodded affirmatively to the question of whether it was my teddy's stomach that had rumbled and not mine.

The whole charade might seem silly to others, especially considering that I was still an adult woman. But the longer I remained in the role of a toddler, the more I found myself enjoying this kind of entertainment. Why, I didn't quite know myself. In that moment, I didn't need to pretend to feel childish joy; no, my giggling was genuine. I was truly having fun with this kind of fooling around – as bizarre as that might sound.

"Well then, maybe it would be best if the teddy gets all the waffles I've prepared," she pondered aloud, theatrically furrowing her brow as if she were truly considering giving my portion of breakfast to the teddy bear. "After all, such a tremendous bear hunger must be satisfied. Don’t you think so, Emily? We wouldn't want your poor teddy to starve! A noble little mermaid like you would surely be willing to forgo your share to satisfy his hunger, right? Your stomach would have surely made itself known if you were hungry."

I looked at her in dismay. "Buh I wan' da waffews! My shtomach wumbled!" I blurted out in panic, fearing she might actually withhold the delicious waffles from me, before realizing something in my mouth was making it hard to speak. To my horror, I then realized a pacifier was in my mouth, which apparently had been there since I woke up, unbeknownst to me. I immediately spat it out as far as I could, but the chain attached to my pajamas prevented it from going far. So, instead of disappearing from my sight as I had hoped, it dangled annoyingly in front of my eyes on my pajamas. Grumpily, I muttered, staring darkly at the silly thing with its kitten print, " I don't need a pacifier! I’m not a baby!"

"I know, Emily, that you're already a big girl and normally don't need a pacifier. I only gave you the pacifier because I was afraid you might wake up again when I took the bottle from your mouth and then have trouble falling back to sleep. Falling asleep wasn’t so easy for you since you weren't sleeping in your usual home environment. It's the same with Viola; she always wakes up as soon as she doesn't have anything in her mouth if she falls asleep while feeding. But if I replace the bottle with her pacifier, she continues to sleep soundly. I just didn't want you to wake up and then have problems falling asleep again, that's all," she explained, lovingly stroking my hair and showing a gentle, understanding smile. "It's not a bad thing to sleep with a pacifier in a new, unfamiliar environment. It doesn't make you a baby, you know. Other big kids occasionally sleep with a pacifier too."

For her, the matter seemed settled. But I wasn't ready to accept that. She might put a pacifier in my mouth again the next evening if I didn't make it clear I didn't need it. But before I could clarify that, she skillfully switched back to the original topic of food. "So Emily, do you want the waffles or should I give them to your teddy instead?" she asked again, and in the next moment, all my mind could focus on were the waffles for breakfast. My annoyance over the pacifier was completely pushed out of my consciousness by the thought of waffles. "I want the waffles!" I blurted out immediately, but then instantly felt ashamed for my reaction. Why was I behaving like this!? It was clear she wouldn't give the waffles to anyone else, especially not a stuffed animal that didn't even have a digestive system.

"Well then, of course you should have them. Your teddy will surely understand, considering how loudly your stomach was rumbling. But before we get to eating, we need to get you freshened up," she explained while gently stroking the area of my romper where my wet diaper was clearly outlined. She looked at my teddy bear, still in my arms, and asked with a wink: "Would you like to leave your teddy with his stuffed animal friends while you're out? I'm sure he will wait here for you until you go back to sleep." Embarrassed, I let go of my teddy, which I had still been clutching up to that moment, and Viola's mother helped me out of the bed.

Hand in hand, we went to the changing table. My diaper was so wet that it practically pushed my legs apart as I walked. Once Viola's mother had helped me onto the changing table and started to carefully peel me out of my mermaid romper, she continued with the playful, motherly sing-song tone she had used with me all morning. I had long given up on trying to get her to talk to me like an adult. I wasn't even sure if I preferred it this way, being spoken to like this. After all, it let me pretend to be just a child and avoid admitting how embarrassing it was to be changed by the woman I was in love with.

"Emily, what would you like on your waffles?" she asked as she pulled off my romper, exposing my bare upper body and diaper. Remarkably, her question managed to divert my attention so completely that I didn't even think to question my nudity. I was too preoccupied with deciding what I wanted on my beloved waffles than to concern myself with such an adult feeling as embarrassment. "Would you like some mango on them?" she suggested, opening the wet diaper and beginning to clean me with a wipe. I flinched slightly as the cool wet wipe touched my skin. There were few things worse than the sensation of cold wet wipes on bare skin in the early morning. "Yeah, mango sounds good," I shivered, as she ran an especially cold wipe along my slit.

"Oh dear, are the wet wipes too cold?" she asked sympathetically, noticing that I couldn't suppress my shivering. I nodded and, hoping for a bit of compassion, pouted my lower lip with childlike theatrics. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. But you're almost done. I just need to quickly wipe your cute bottom, and then you'll be done with those silly, cold wet wipes," she explained, lifting my legs and swiftly cleaning the area around my bottom with another wipe. Shortly thereafter, the unpleasant procedure was indeed over, and she rolled up my used diaper to throw it into the trash can.

"So, mango it is. How about some strawberries to go with it?" she switched back to the topic of breakfast while placing a new mermaid-patterned diaper beneath me. "Yes, strawberries would be great," I agreed enthusiastically as she let my lifted bottom fall back into the fresh, pleasantly soft, and cozy diaper. "Shall we add some broccoli too, for a healthy touch?" she joked with a wide grin, revealing her brilliantly white teeth, as she then sprinkled baby powder over my crotch. I made a face. The mere thought made me feel sick. "Better not," I giggled.

"Or maybe some hummus as a sauce?" she added teasingly. "No, please no," I replied, shaking my head in horror at the thought of hummus on sweet waffles. "Well, if you don't like hummus on them, you probably won't like maple syrup and Nutella on them either, right?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I want maple syrup!" I exclaimed immediately. There was nothing better than maple syrup on waffles. "Okay, that's certainly a strange combination, but if you really think it tastes good, you can have waffles with maple syrup instead of hummus, just this once," she laughed, tickling my belly again playfully and fastening my diaper as gracefully and smoothly as a dancer performing a pirouette. She helped me into a dress, combed my hair, and then braided it into two cute pigtails.

The image we presented at that moment couldn't have been more contrasting. Here I was, with my two braids and a childlike dress with a kitten print, and there she stood, in a beautiful, casually elegant summer dress, as if she had just stepped off a runway in Paris. With her open, slightly wavy black hair and subtly nuanced makeup, she was the very picture of a young, adult woman. In contrast, I didn't even need to look in the mirror to be aware of my childlike, girlish facial features, which were only further emphasized by this silly outfit. Oh, how I missed dressing like a proper, adult woman at that moment. How I longed to be able to wear makeup again. But in that moment, I even doubted that makeup could counteract my childish appearance. It would probably make me look more like a little girl who had secretly tried her mother's makeup for the first time.

Finally, we made our way together into the kitchen. There, Viola's mother had prepared a true culinary feast. At the center of it all was a waffle iron, surrounded by waffle batter, mango pieces, strawberries, Nutella, and maple syrup. Everything was ready for a lavish breakfast that would have done honor to any Michelin-starred kitchen.

I couldn't help but notice Viola's high chair in the corner of the room as I went to sit down. Fortunately, unlike with the crib, I was clearly too big to fit into it. Otherwise, knowing Viola's mother as I did by now, she would have surely insisted that I sit in it instead of the regular adult chair where I now took my place.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked me after I had sat down and listed the options: "Warm milk, cocoa, tea, orange juice?" I chose the orange juice, even though the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the kitchen was almost irresistible. But it was clear to me that this beverage wasn't an option available to me. It was no accident that Viola's mother had omitted the drink from her list, and I wanted to avoid the humiliation of being told I was too young for something as mundane as coffee.

I couldn't help but notice that she did everything to treat me during breakfast just like her one-year-old daughter. Not only had she put Viola's baby cutlery in my place, but she also finally appeared with the juice in a colorful sippy cup that was obviously usually used by Viola. The worst thing, however, was that she suddenly stepped behind me the next moment and wanted to put a bib on me for breakfast. "I don't need a bib," I grumbled immediately, trying to shake off the silly thing.

"You always wear one at kindergarten without complaining," she countered, visibly surprised by my reaction. "Yes, but I'm not at kindergarten at the moment and I never wear one at home," I told her defiantly. Viola's mother looked at me with an understanding but persistent gaze. She put her hands on her hips, almost like an intuitive gesture that so many mothers make when they want to make something clear. "But, Emily, you're not at home here either. I understand that you don't think you need a bib anymore if you always eat without one at home, but unfortunately, like the kindergarten, I don't have so many of your things here that I can change you several times a day if you get dirty while eating."

I crossed my arms and stared stubbornly at the table. "Since I won't get dirty, I won't need any extra clothes," I emphasized, with a venomous look. Viola's mother looked at me, unimpressed. "Emily, I remember a few times in kindergarten when your bib was more than a little dirty!" "That wasn't my fault, it was due to the clumsiness of the other kids or just stupid accidents," I defended myself immediately, but my voice sounded less convincing than I would have liked.

Viola's mother knelt down in front of me to be at eye level with me. "Listen, Emily," she said gently, "I'll make you a deal. If you make an effort at dinner this weekend and manage to keep your bib and clothes mostly clean, I promise you that the next time you're here and your mom gives you some more spare clothes, you can eat without a bib. How does that sound?"

Somehow the offer seemed familiar to me. Hadn't Mrs. Müller made me a similar offer back then? Yet, I still always wore a bib at kindergarten, as it was nearly impossible to stay clean with everything that happened at the dining table. Well, at least here there were no other children to distract me or mess up my clothes, so it was entirely up to me to keep my bib clean. And it was at least a compromise, better than nothing. A compromise that at least gave me the option of doing without the bib in the future. Secretly, I was aware that I wouldn't be able to avoid the bib at least this weekend. During Viola's settling-in period, Viola's mother had witnessed too many times how my bib had been soiled after eating. Which, as I said, was not my fault! "Okay," I finally agreed softly, with a sigh of resignation. "But you'll see that I really don't need a bib!"

So I allowed her to put the bib on me, determined to prove that I wouldn't need it. She then fetched her coffee and sat down next to me at the table. "Please be careful, Emily, the waffle iron is very hot," she warned as she turned on the device. I rolled my eyes internally. Did she really think I would stick my hand into the waffle iron just for fun if she didn't remind me it was hot!?

Once the waffle iron was hot enough, she finally prepared the first waffle. She gave me half and helped me top it with mango, strawberries, and maple syrup. As she poured maple syrup on her half of the waffle, I teased her: "Why no hummus today?" She laughed. "Today I want to try something really crazy, so I'm going for maple syrup instead of hummus." "Of course, that's the only reason," I grinned and playfully stuck out my tongue at her.

While we were enjoying our breakfast, Viola's mother told me that there was a surprise waiting for me after the meal. She explained that she wanted to show me her favorite place. My heart leapt for joy. I even fantasized about us sharing our first kiss there. I know how absurd that sounds, but one is still allowed to dream! "Where exactly are we going?" I immediately wanted to know after she shared the news. But she just smiled. "Emily, a surprise means not telling what it's about, otherwise it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore!" she answered mysteriously, and no matter how much I inquired, she resolutely refused to reveal our destination.

Eating with the baby cutlery was more challenging than I had expected. The handles were too short, and the fork was so blunt that it was nearly impossible to spear the slippery waffles without them sliding off a moment later. It was a true balancing act to get them from my plate to my mouth, and I was visibly proud of myself when my bib remained clean at the end of breakfast. Let anyone dare say I can't handle cutlery properly! I had said that it was only down to the other girls at kindergarten that I didn't always stay clean!

"Finished?" she asked me as I leaned back satiated in my chair. I nodded, and she came around to remove my bib. "Your bib is actually still clean; you did a great job, Emily," she acknowledged my effort. "I told you I could do it!" I boasted proudly, pleased with myself. I was about to stand up, but Viola's mother stopped me. "Please stay seated for a moment; I just want to clean you up quickly," she explained and hurried to the sink to fetch a washcloth. Why did she need to clean me up if my bib was clean? Then my gaze fell on the stainless steel refrigerator beside me, mercilessly reflecting my syrup-smeared face. I looked down at my hands, which presented a similarly sorry state, and let myself be cleaned up by Viola's mother, feeling embarrassed.

"And now our little messy one is shining like new," Viola's mother announced with a delighted smile, after gently wiping my face with the warm cloth for the third time. "Let's see how your diaper is doing," she added, bending down to me and checking the state of my diaper with practiced ease. "Seems still dry, wonderful. So we can set off soon after we've brushed our teeth," she concluded satisfactorily and quickly cleared the breakfast table.

Holding a cooler and a large bag in one hand and my hand in the other, she led me to her car after brushing our teeth. My child seat had already been installed next to Viola's in the backseat. Once I was securely fastened in it, she started the car, and simultaneously, children's music began to play from the speakers. Well, the journey might be less romantic than I had hoped.

On the way, we stopped at a gas station. Viola's mother got out to pay for the fuel, leaving me alone in the car, strapped into my child seat. While she was away, I watched the scene around me with boredom, as there wasn't much else I could do. People drove up to the pumps, parked, got out to refuel, and then went inside to pay. When a young man, eyes fixed on his smartphone, walked right past our car to settle his gas bill, I suddenly became acutely aware of my appearance. Hastily, I looked down at my lap, where my mermaid-themed diaper was brazenly peeking out between the straps of the seat belt. I immediately pressed my knees together and frantically covered with my hands the rest of the diaper that was still visible, as the safety belt had pushed up my dress. Fortunately, the man was so focused on his phone that he didn't even notice me as he walked by.

The fact that I hadn't been noticed by the young man did little to alleviate the sudden surge of fear within me. Since I started living as a toddler, I had only spent time at home or in kindergarten and had never been in a public place with many strangers for an extended period - except for the bus rides with Lea, but then I hadn't been trapped in a toddler's car seat. Suddenly, I feared that Viola's mother's favorite place might be a location where more strangers could lurk, where I might be exposed to more unforgiving stares from others.

Contrary to my fears, however, no one at the gas station seemed to take any interest in me. Nobody found my appearance odd or peculiar. None of the passing people stared at me. They all seemed to find my childlike appearance completely normal, as if it weren't unusual for a 19-year-old to be strapped into a child's car seat. But that was only because, apparently, none of the bystanders considered me anywhere near that age. They saw me as just an ordinary child. A young woman, about mid-twenties, with long blonde hair and a casual denim jacket, even smiled lovingly at me as she passed by, so convinced she was seeing a real child.

When Viola's mother returned a few minutes later, she carried a small package which she stowed in the trunk. I tried to catch a glimpse of what she had stored, but it remained hidden from my view. I initially intended to ask her what she had bought, but as she got in the next moment and held out two lollipops to me, I had already forgotten my intention to inquire. "Cherry or lemon?" she asked me with a wide grin. "Cherry!" I blurted out, grabbing the red lollipop and popping it contentedly into my mouth. Casually, Viola's mother tucked the other one behind her cheek and started the car. How could she still look so stylish with a lollipop, while my reflection in the rearview mirror told me that it only made me look more childish!?

If you like my story and would like to support me, you can do so on Patreon (patreon.com/SweetLittleEmily). There, you will also find additional chapters, and a new chapter is published twice a month.

[SweetLittleEmily]

Chapter 22

As we drove on, it seemed we were moving further away from any sign of civilization. After half an hour's drive, we finally parked our car on a secluded, small forest path. There wasn't a soul around. Nothing but untouched nature stretched as far as the eye could see.

Viola's mother leisurely got out of the car and opened the trunk. I heard the sound of a zipper and the rustling of plastic, as if a package was being opened. What exactly she was doing was not visible from my seat, but I guessed she was quickly packing a bag with something that had previously just been lying in the trunk. The next moment, she removed the bags from the car and closed the trunk again. Then she came to my door, opened it, checked that my diaper was still dry, and released the child lock on my child seat.

"Is this your favorite place?" I asked excitedly as she helped me out of the car and immediately surveyed the idyllic nature around us. Despite the late summer heat, there was a pleasant coolness here. The dense canopy of trees prevented the sun's heat from penetrating to the ground. Not much else seemed to penetrate this place either. The chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves were the only things that occasionally broke the silence. No cars or other human-made noises could be detected.

"No, this isn't my favorite place yet," she smiled, "we have to walk a little before we get to my favorite spot." Did she have to make it so suspenseful, couldn't she at least tell me now where we were going? "Don't keep me in suspense. Just tell me where we're going," I whined. However, she just shook her head firmly. "You'll see soon, but you have to be patient for just a little longer," she replied with a mysterious smile and playfully tapped my nose with her index finger.

"Come on, let me help you put on your backpack that I packed for you. We have quite a bit to carry, and since you're such a big girl, you can help me!" Of course, it wasn't a cool, stylish backpack or anything like that she helped me slip into, but a small child's backpack shaped like a penguin—with big, round eyes and small wings sewn on the sides. The backpack resembled more a stuffed animal than a practical piece of luggage and judging by its weight, it didn't seem to have much capacity since it weighed hardly anything despite being well-stuffed.

I felt a bit bad when Viola's mother, in the next moment, slung a much larger bag and my diaper bag over her shoulder and then grabbed the heavy cooler box before taking my hand and we set off. "I can carry more if you want," I offered, given that my backpack was anything but heavy. But she only replied, "That's very sweet of you, Emily, but this little penguin here has eaten so much today, you can see how round he is, so I think he's already heavy enough for you." Inside, I felt a spark of rebellion against this renewed infantilizing treatment. I was sure I was capable of carrying more than just this little child's backpack, even if I wasn't as tall as she was! But whatever, let it be. If Viola's mother insisted on carrying all the heavy luggage herself, then so be it. Why not enjoy the few advantages of living the toddler life?

We left the forest path where we had parked and walked across the woods. The leaves under our feet rustled gently as we delved deeper into the forest. Soon, more sunbeams broke through the previously dense canopy of leaves, and the next moment, we had left the forest behind us, and an awe-inspiring sight unfolded before us, making me stop in silent admiration. We were on a small, lush green meadow on the edge of a glassy blue lake. The water glittered in the sunlight like a huge, shimmering gemstone and was framed by imposing trees, whose tops swayed gently in the wind. Viola's mother stood next to me, a radiant smile on her lips. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said with sparkling eyes. I could only nod, unable to speak, still captivated by the beauty surrounding us.

"This is just a small part of the lake. It continues around the corner back there." She pointed to a gentle curve in the shoreline, which hid the rest of the lake behind a row of trees. In that moment, I felt like an explorer who had just entered a hidden world, having found the ultimate place of idyll. Viola's mother spread out a colorful picnic blanket under the shade of a large tree, before fishing out two paddles and a ball from her bag. "How about a round of Velcro ball, Emily?"

"Oh yes, that sounds great!" I exclaimed excitedly, snatching one of the paddles covered in Velcro material from her hand. "Are you ready?" Viola's mother asked after we positioned ourselves at a distance on the meadow. "Absolutely!" I replied, crouching slightly like a tennis player and symbolically tapping my paddle. She threw the ball into the air with such precision that I only had to raise my hand for the ball to stick securely in the Velcro of the paddle the next moment. "Great catch, Emily!" she shouted, even though I had hardly needed to do anything. "Shall we count how many times we can throw the ball to each other without it touching the ground?" she asked before I threw the ball back to her. "Oh yes, that sounds awesome! That was catch number one," I said excitedly. "If we keep this up, we can make it to a hundred," I boasted.

However, my next throw missed her by so far that even with a sprint, she couldn't reach my ball in time. "Maybe it's not quite so easy to make it to a hundred," she said grinning as she picked up the ball and threw it back to me. This time, her throw wasn't very precise either, so I had to do a full sprint and stretch quite a bit to catch her ball before it touched the ground again. “One”, I said again.

Excitedly, we tossed the ball back and forth numerous times. Gradually, we got better and set record after record until one of us made a mistake, the ball fell to the ground, and we started counting over again. The loud rustling of my diaper during the game or my short dress occasionally revealing my diaper during quick movements didn't bother me. We were outdoors, but besides us, there was no one to see, and Viola's mother was already aware of my undergarment. So, who was there to be shy for? I wasn't even bothered that my mobility might not have been as free with the diaper as without it. The diaper, which I once found so restricting and bothersome, had become so familiar to me that it almost felt like a part of my body. Over time, I had learned to accept its presence not as a hindrance but as a part of myself that was simply there. It was what it was, even if it was still uncomfortable for me to be seen by other people in my diapers.

Just as we were about to set a new personal record for throwing the ball back and forth without it touching the ground, Violas Mutter's throw went awry, and the ball flew off in the wrong direction. "Darn, just one more, and we would have set a new record," she lamented, assuming the ball was gone as it sailed through the air. But I wasn't so easily discouraged. With a burst of energy, I chased after the errant ball, determined to save our collective record. And indeed, at the last second, I managed to catch the ball with a daring dive before it touched the grass.

"I Caught It!" I exclaimed triumphantly. Viola's mother applauded enthusiastically. "That was incredible, Emily! You're a real Velcro ball pro!" she praised me with enthusiasm. I was glowing with pride. But just as I was about to throw the ball back to Viola's mother, I paused. An unexpected, yet familiar warm sensation began to spread through my groin. I immediately realized I was peeing. Yet, I didn't resist what was happening. Quietly, I allowed my bladder to empty into my diaper. The accident had already occurred; there was no point in fighting it now. By now, I was barely accustomed to anything other than relieving myself in my diaper. Honestly, I could hardly remember the last time I used my potty for it.

"Is everything okay?" Viola's mother wondered when I didn't pass the ball. "All good!" I repeated hastily and hurled the ball back at her with a strong swing, as the last drops of urine were absorbed by my diaper. She caught it effortlessly, yet her gaze lingered on me suspiciously. "Did you just pee, Emily?" she asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice. Did she have to ask so bluntly!?

"No, I haven't," I quickly lied, feeling my cheeks flush with a slight red. "Are you sure? Let me check your diaper, please," she said, slowly approaching me. "I didn't pee! My diaper is still dry!" I insisted, yet instinctively began to back away to avoid her approach. "If it really is dry, then there shouldn't be any problem with me checking," she replied, quickening her steps.

"I told you it's dry. You don't need to check," I groaned in irritation, turning around to move away from her faster. "Emily, do I really need to catch you to check your diaper?" she called out, chasing after me in a light jog.

"Yes, you'll have to catch me!" I giggled, picking up my pace. "But you can save yourself the effort because, as I said, my diaper is still dry!" "Oh sure, and pigs can fly. Just you wait until I catch you," she called out half panting, half laughing behind me.

As I ran, however, I felt all the more that my diaper was far from being dry. Not only were my legs pushed apart even more by the swollen diaper, but it also chafed uncomfortably against my skin with every step. It was as if I was running with a large, wet sponge between my legs. But despite it all, I rarely had as much fun as I did in that moment, running away from Viola's mother laughing. And she seemed to enjoy it just as much, laughing at least as hard as I did while chasing me with her dress billowing behind her.

When she finally caught up to me and wrapped her arms around me from behind, we both fell to the ground, exhausted and happy. She caught her breath briefly before sitting on top of me and lifting my dress to check my diaper. "Well, who would've thought, the diaper is completely soaked," she observed with a smirk. "Be glad you're not Pinocchio, otherwise you'd have a veeery long nose by now," she chuckled, pinching my nose between her index and middle finger. "Even if I were Pinocchio, my nose wouldn't have grown longer because the diaper just got wet. It was dry before!" I cheekily continued to fib.

"Of course, of course," Viola's mother chuckled. "How about I change your diaper quickly, and then we could cool off in the lake?" she asked me, wiping the sweat from her face. My gaze drifted to the lake, its clear, blue waters tantalizingly in front of us. The idea of cooling down in its refreshing water was tempting, especially after our strenuous chase. But somehow, I felt uncomfortable about the idea of swimming, even though no one else was around at the moment.

"I don't have any swimwear here," I interjected uncertainly. Viola's mother smiled at me reassuringly. "I would be a poor babysitter if I brought you to a lake without thinking of swimwear. Of course, I've packed something for you."

"And what if, ... if someone comes?" I expressed my unease. "Emily, I've been coming here for years and never encountered anyone else. This place is a well-kept secret. Most people go to the more well-known swimming spots further back, and no one can see us here. So, you don't need to worry," she soothed me gently. "So, how about it, shall we go cool off?" I was still uneasy about the idea, but I eventually let her persuade me. She was probably right, and I was just unnecessarily worrying.

We walked to the picnic blanket, and she pulled a changing mat out of my diaper bag, which she carefully laid out on the picnic blanket. With gentle, practiced movements, she helped me pull my dress over my head and set it aside. Then, she unfastened the adhesive strips of my wet diaper and removed it. It was a strange feeling to lie naked in the middle of nature. It was strange to feel the light breeze blowing over my labia and yet it felt somehow pleasant, even though I instinctively felt an inner restlessness welling up inside me at the same time, as my most vulnerable spot was so exposed. I couldn't help but keep looking around anxiously to see if there was anyone nearby who could have seen me and my naked crotch. But no one was there.

"Would you like something to drink, Emily?" Viola's mother inquired as she carefully stored the wet diaper in a plastic bag and sealed it meticulously. My consent was immediate; the physical exertions had practically dehydrated me. She pulled out a baby bottle filled with water from the cooler and handed it to me. Any aversion to the childish drinking vessel was immediately replaced by a desperate need for the cool refreshment. Without hesitation, I began eagerly sucking on the bottle as soon as she handed it to me—there was nothing more refreshing than cool water after physical activity.

As I lay there, clutching the bottle tightly, I watched silently as she carefully wiped me dry and then reached into the diaper bag to pull out a fresh diaper for me. I expected to see one of my usual, bulky diapers, but instead, she pulled out a diaper that was more reminiscent in size to my earlier pull-ups, and even those seemed huge in comparison. Had she accidentally packed one of Viola's diapers?

"I hope you can somehow fit into this. They didn't have a larger swim diaper at the gas station, unfortunately," she responded, addressing my silent question as if she had read my mind. I hadn't even considered that I couldn't wear my usual diapers in the water, as they would just soak up the cool liquid as soon as I entered it. At first, I didn't think much of it. I wore regular diapers outside to be protected against my little accidents, so it only made sense that I would wear swim diapers in the water too, to be well protected. Until I remembered that swim diapers weren't designed to prevent small accidents. Swim diapers were solely meant to prevent fecal matter from entering the water or the swimwear.

Embarrassment washed over me as I realized that Viola's mother might assume this protection was necessary for me. Did she really think, just because I had had two bowel accidents in the kindergarten due to my diarrhea, that I was just as incapable of controlling my bowel movements as all the other little kids? I wanted to object to the swim diaper immediately, to tell her that I didn't need a diaper that was only there to catch potential bowel accidents. But the mere thought that she could bring up my two accidents at daycare, that she could remind me that she had cleaned up one of those accidents herself, silenced me. The incident was too embarrassing for me to risk bringing it up again.

Thus it happened that with some skill and considerable effort, she managed to fit me into the swim diaper, which slipped on like training pants. Though snug, it somehow fit me. This swim diaper was much thinner than any diaper I had previously worn. It felt almost odd to move so freely, unencumbered by the usual weight and bulk of my regular diaper. I almost felt like one of the girls in those classic period product commercials, experiencing a newfound freedom with the latest, enhanced product, suddenly empowered to do anything, even amidst their period.

Viola's mother pulled out a child-sized Ariel swimsuit from the penguin backpack, bright with colors and the cheerful motif of the famous mermaid. "This swimsuit is usually worn by my eight-year-old niece when she visits, but it should fit you," she explained as she assisted me in pulling on the childish swimsuit. And of course, the darn thing fit. I cursed the elastane from which the swimsuit was made, enabling the fabric to stretch so much that it fit me, even though I was probably much taller than her eight-year-old niece.

Then Viola's mother shed her dress, revealing beneath it a chic, modern bikini that matched perfectly with her eye and hair color. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating each of her curves with understated elegance. My God, she was breathtaking. Looking down at myself, I felt the contrast between us could not have been more stark. Here she was, the very picture of grace, her shapely bust further highlighted by the bikini, and there I was, in my swimsuit that managed to hide any hint of my breast while making my thin swim diaper look enormous by comparison.

Screw it, I had already known that I currently looked like a child. That didn't mean that I couldn't still have fun with Viola's mother. So far, the day had been beautiful despite the diaper and a dress more befitting a four-year-old. So, I stood up, ready to finally cool off in the refreshing water, but just as I was about to dash towards the lake, I felt Viola's mother hold my hand firmly. "Hold on, young lady, you need one more thing before you can go into the water." And then, something happened that I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams. From the penguin backpack, she actually pulled out a pair of water wings decorated with colorful unicorn prints. Now, she was really going overboard.

"I can swim; I don't need floaties!" I countered, incredulous. "It's possible your mom has taught you a bit about swimming, but this is open water, not a secure swimming pool—it's a bit more dangerous. The lake is quite deep here; I can only just stand. That's why it's too risky to let you in the water without floaties," she explained calmly.

"But I don't want to wear them," I snapped. Yet, Viola's mother remained firm. "I'm sorry, Emily, but this is about your safety, and I'm responsible for looking after you. You can either go into the water with the water wings, or we stay on the shore. The choice is yours," she said with a mix of care and decisiveness in her voice.

I absolutely don't want to wear those silly things. The swimsuit and swim diaper are embarrassing enough; I don't need floaties making me look completely ridiculous. "I don't want to wear those stupid floaties, and I don't need them because I can swim!" I persisted, making my displeasure plain. Yet, her gaze remained as steady as her tone. "Emily, I understand your reluctance, but in open waters of these depths, caution is paramount. Your safety is my top priority, and without those wings, I'm not letting you into the water," she replied unwaveringly.

"But I just want to swim without these... these things," I tried again, my voice teetering between frustration and a plea for understanding. "And I want you to be safe. Floaties are like helmets for the water. Some might be too vain to wear them, but in hindsight, they wish they had if something happens. I'm not open to negotiation on this," Viola's mother countered, her voice imbued with a gentle, yet unyielding authority.

With my arms crossed and a sulky expression on my face, I resignedly sank back onto the picnic blanket. Fine, we wouldn't go swimming then. I didn't care! A part of me wanted to stubbornly stick to my decision not to go into the water – on principle. But as I sat there, I couldn't help but cast longing glances at the lake. Each look at the gently sparkling waves softened my stubborn resolve a little more until the prospect of cooling off in the refreshing water outweighed any defiance. "Alright," I finally sighed, with a mix of resignation and an undeniable desire to frolic in the water. "I'll wear them."

Viola's mother, visibly pleased with my concession, spread out the floaties. The unicorns on them shimmered as if they truly came to life in the sunlight. "I'm proud of you, Emily. It shows maturity to prioritize your safety over your vanity," she praised me as she carefully slipped the floaties onto me.

Of course, she didn't put on any floaties herself. A classic case of "do as I say, not as I do," I thought. Adults often preached safety but seldom modeled it. How many adults insisted their children wear helmets while biking, only to ride without one themselves. "Once you're in the water, you'll find they're not bothersome at all," she reassured me, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red from the effort of inflating the swim wings.

Once the floaties were snugly filled around my arms, their colorful presence was less bothersome than I had anticipated. They were just floaties. As Viola's mother had said, they were like helmets for the water, and I had always been an advocate for wearing helmets while cycling, regardless of age. After all, nothing is more important than one's own health. "See, it's not so bad," she said with a wink, noticing my expression brighten. "There, all set. Now you're ready to splash around in the lake. Last one in the water is a rotten egg!"

Before I could even process her words, she leaped up and dashed toward the water. "Hey, that's not fair!" I protested, jumping up to chase after her. As I ran, I noticed how much more agile I felt without my usual bulky diaper. However, any speed gained from the lighter swim diaper was offset by the restrictive arm movement caused by the unfamiliar floaties around my upper arms, preventing me from swinging my arms as I usually would while running.

Viola's mother was the first to reach the lake, diving in with a graceful leap into the water. Water sprayed in all directions as she submerged, dotting the scene with shimmering droplets. Just a fraction of a second later, I too made my leap, softly landing in the radiant blue lake. Upon diving, I immediately felt the swim wings slow my descent into the water and quickly buoy me back to the surface.

The coolness of the water enveloped me gently, a pleasant contrast to the late summer's oppressive heat. 'Looks like I win, you're the rotten egg,' Viola's mother called out with laughter as I surfaced and swam over to her. I responded with a mock 'Haha' and stuck my tongue out at her. While Viola's mother could just about touch the lake's bottom and thus stand easily, I found myself too short for that. The swim wings helped keep me afloat, yet they demanded constant swimming motions from me to prevent sinking.

Viola's mother began sharing her experiences by the lake, about sun-drenched afternoons and the water's gleam under the moonlight on tropical nights. Yet her words turned into a distant melody in my mind, my entire focus captured by how the water played with her hair and her bikini, still visible beneath the crystal-clear water surface. Every detail about her, from her wet hair to her sparkling eyes, seemed to shine even more in that moment.

After a while, Viola's mother steered the conversation toward the part of the lake hidden behind a gentle curve. "There's so much more to see. Do you want to explore the rest of the lake?" she asked me. The idea of discovering more was enticing, yet I felt my energy waning. It was exhausting to keep afloat when you couldn't stand, and I was almost relieved that the swim wings at least offered some support; otherwise, I might have had to leave the water long ago due to a lack of strength, especially after all the frolicking earlier. "I'm not sure I can swim that far," I confessed my fatigue.

Viola's mother smiled understandingly. "How about I carry you, and we take a little tour there together? I can stand everywhere here, so it's not too tiring for me." The thought of being carried by her, like a small child, made me blush, but the prospect of being so close to her while also getting to see the rest of the lake made me willingly accept her offer.

As she gently lifted me onto her hip, the sweet scent of her perfume immediately enveloped me. I snuggled into her as we slowly glided through the water. Every touch, every word from her made the butterflies in my stomach dance the tango.

We reached the gentle curve of the lake, and what lay before me was the sight of a vast, seemingly endless body of water. On a distant bathing lawn, people milled about, appearing no larger than ants from this distance. "See how tiny they all are?" I blurted out, letting the scene sink in. Viola's mother, whose smile in that moment seemed to capture the warmth of the late summer sun, replied with a chuckle, "From their perspective, we are probably just as small."

My thoughts wandered, playing with the notion that someone over there, as far away as we were, might perceive us as mother and child. After all, I was wearing floaties and sat on her hip—a thought that was both alien and strangely beautiful. In a movie, we would now be coming tenderly closer to each other, surrounded by this idyllic setting. But while she probably didn't even consider kissing me, seeing me as nothing more than a child, I didn't dare to make the first move and instead lost myself in daydreams about her lips, which shone so softly and invitingly red in the sunlight that they had an almost intoxicating effect on me.

It wasn't long before reality caught up with me. The cold lake water drained more and more warmth from me with each passing second, making me increasingly cold. Soon, I could no longer suppress the physical symptoms of my hypothermia, much as I tried. After all, I wished for nothing more than for this moment to last forever. "Are you cold, Emily?" Viola's mother asked with concern when I began to shiver. I nodded reluctantly, wishing I could deny it to prolong our perfect moment, but the chill was too intense.

With a firm grip, she held me close as we made our way back until we reached the shore where we had entered the water. Climbing out of the lake, we returned to our picnic blanket and dried off. After emerging from the lake's refreshing embrace, having removed my floaties and dried off, Viola's mother turned to me with a warm smile and asked, "Are you hungry, Emily? I've prepared some sandwiches for us. How about a tuna sandwich with fresh lettuce?" Her question made my mouth water. "Oh yes, please! That sounds delicious!" I responded eagerly.

"And what would you like to drink? I have water, milk, and apple juice with me," she continued as she opened the cooler. "Apple juice sounds perfect," I quickly decided. Viola's mother nodded and handed me a baby bottle filled with apple juice. She treated herself to an iced coffee. We began our meal contentedly, me sipping from my bottle and her savoring her coffee.

No sooner had I gobbled down the last bite of my sandwich when a wave of drowsiness hit me, as it always does after lunch, and to my slight embarrassment, Viola's mother couldn't help but notice my yawning. “Getting sleepy, Emily? It’s about time for your nap, isn’t it?” I nodded sleepily, confirming, “Yes, a bit.” “How about you snuggle up with your bottle in my lap, and I read you a bedtime story? I’ve brought the story of Frederick with me,” she suggested, gesturing to her lap. The idea of cozily curling up in her lap and listening to her read sounded just perfect. “Yes, please!” I agreed eagerly and settled into her lap, clutching my bottle tightly. Viola's mother opened the book and began to read the story of the little mouse poet Frederick with a soft voice. It wasn’t long before my eyes grew heavy. 'Frederick gathered...,' I heard her say, before I drifted off to sleep, securely nestled in her lap.

An abrupt "Oh, damn" jolted me awake some time later. Startled, I looked up only to watch Viola's mother in frantic haste trying to slide a towel beneath me. Underneath my seat, on the picnic blanket, a small puddle had already formed, and it seemed as if more moisture was continuously seeping through the fabric of my swimsuit. "I'm so sorry, Emily, I completely forgot to change you after swimming. The swim diaper isn't designed to absorb liquid," she admitted with a regretful sigh. Full of shame, I desperately tried to stop the flow escaping from me, but my efforts were futile. Embarrassed, I had no choice but to watch helplessly as the urine soaked my swimsuit and trickled into the towel now placed underneath. Although it took only a few seconds for my bladder to empty completely, it felt like an eternity.

Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably in the next moment. I was too overwhelmed by the flood of emotions that besieged me at that moment to stop them. I cried, tormented by the bitter reality of my incontinence, which had been so brazenly presented to me once again. I cried out of guilt for staining Viola's mother's picnic blanket, and out of shame for having embarrassed myself in front of the woman for whom my heart beat so fiercely.

Yet, Viola's mother made me feel no guilt. Not a trace of anger or disapproval was visible on her face, despite the extra work my inability to reach the toilet in time or to stay dry during sleep meant for her. Instead, she gently pulled me into her arms and began to comfort me lovingly. "Emily, I'm so sorry, this is entirely my fault," she whispered to me soothingly, as her hand gently stroked my hair. "You haven't done anything wrong. I should have taken care to change you after swimming."

We remained like that for an eternity, me, securely nestled in her arms, comforted by the melody of her words that ceaselessly whispered it wasn't my fault and everything would be okay. Finally, when no more tears flowed and my sobbing slowly ceased, she gently lifted my face, looked at me with a smile of deep understanding, and asked if I was ready to be changed, or if I wanted to stay in her arms a bit longer. I longed to be freed from the wet swim diaper and the damp swimsuit, both of which unpleasantly smelled of urine. She carefully freed me from the swim diaper and swimsuit, cleaned me thoroughly, and put on a fresh diaper with a mermaid print.

The diaper, which had previously been a symbol of shame and embarrassment, felt in that moment like a safe haven I had left and to which I had returned. I realized that it was solely her merit that I hadn't found myself in such situations more often. It was a shield that preserved my dignity in front of others, not something that took it away. I now understood that.

Violas Mother gently put my dress back on. "There, Emily, now you're all dressed up again. Let's pack up and head home. It looks like it's going to rain soon anyway," she said finally, her voice filled with care and understanding, as she looked up to the dark clouds forming on the sky. I nodded silently, unable to find the words as again some tears ran down my cheeks.

She also dressed and began to fold up the picnic blanket and carefully pack the remaining items into the penguin backpack and the bag. "Everything will be okay, Emily. Accidents happen, but they don't define us," she comforted me again as she took my hand while we walked back to the car.

With practiced hands, after a short walk, she finally stowed everything in the car, before helping me into the child seat. "Despite everything, it was a wonderful day, don't you think? I promise you that your tears will soon be forgotten, and we'll have a beautiful evening too!" she said, as she fastened my seatbelt.

[SweetLittleEmily]

Chapter 23

When we finally got home, not only had the sun vanished—as if it had dissolved behind the thick clouds, becoming imperceptible—but my tears had also disappeared as if they had never been there. It was indeed strange how I had internalized the typical emotional ups and downs of toddlerhood. One moment, I felt as if my entire world was collapsing, only to experience profound joy the next, as if nothing had happened. I definitely hadn't been like this before my therapy, and I couldn't quite understand why I was behaving this way now, despite being fully aware of the absurdity of this behavioral pattern.

No sooner had we entered the house and Viola's mother put away the day's gear, she announced it was time for a princess named Emily to take a royal bath. I sighed; bathing was the last thing I felt like doing. "I don't want to bathe. Bathing is boring and tiring. I'd rather do something else!" I told Viola's mother, clearly unenthusiastic.

The lake water outside had offered a welcome refreshment, but now, the thought of taking a bath in the cool house felt like a burdensome duty. There were days when I enjoyed showering or bathing at home, but most of the time, I found the process exhausting. No matter how pleasant the bath or shower water was, the subsequent chill when stepping out and the tedious drying of my long hair without the warming sun just made it all feel like a nuisance.

Yet, Viola's mother was undeterred. "After being in open water, it's necessary to cleanse with clean water. I'll also take a shower once you're in bed. Besides, your mother mentioned that Saturday is your bath day. So, you would have had to bathe today anyway," she said gently but firmly, leading me to her tiny bathroom, disregarding my reluctance.

Without much fuss and ignoring my repeated protests that I didn't want to bathe, she turned on the tap, and clear water began to fill the tub. After ensuring the incoming water was at the right temperature, she reached for a bottle of bubble bath, which, of course, was adorned with a label featuring a childlike, cheerful, playful seahorse. It would have been nice, for once, to smell like an adult woman again and not have to wear a child's scent on my skin, especially since I had to share every product with my little sister at home.

With a motion almost akin to a ceremony, Viola's mother poured a generous amount of the red liquid into the running water, which then took on the same color. Satisfied, she finally placed the bottle of bubble bath back on the shelf near the ceiling and turned her attention back to me. Meanwhile, more and more bubbles formed on the surface of the bathwater.

"Emily, I have a little secret, do you think you can keep it?" she suddenly asked me, putting on a mysterious face. My eyes widened with curiosity as I looked at her, preparing myself mentally for all kinds of revelations. Perhaps she had developed feelings for me? But what she then said had nothing to do with my wild speculations. "I have the power to do magic, but this must remain our little secret," she announced with such a serious expression that I almost believed her for a moment. "Haha," I let out, somewhat disappointed since she had not confessed her love for me. "You don't believe me? Watch, I'll prove it to you." With a skilled swirl of her hand through the bathwater and a murmured "Aquamenti" – as if by magic, the previously red water changed its color to a deep blue.

I stared fascinated at the now blue water. "How did you do that?!" I asked incredulously. "See, I told you I can do magic," she replied with a convinced, wide grin. "You must have put something in the water to change its color!" I countered skeptically. "But you saw that I had nothing in my hands when I enchanted the water," she retorted, showing her empty hands. "Then it must have something to do with the bubble bath," I concluded, trying to reach for the bubble bath she had placed on the shelf. Unfortunately, I was too short to grasp it on the high shelf. "Could you please give me the bubble bath so I can see how it works?" I asked her, hating that I had to ask her like a little child. Yet, I was too eager to know what chemical reaction caused the color change.

"Emily, I've already told you, it has nothing to do with the bubble bath. I simply performed magic," she explained to me still with utmost seriousness. "Look, I'll do magic again to prove it to you." She grabbed a towel that was lying next to the bathtub and spread it out in front of me. "Do you see this coin?" she asked after pulling a shiny coin from her pocket. I nodded. "Now, I'll place it here on the towel." She visibly placed the coin on the towel and then carefully folded it up. "Now the magic word... Evanesco!" With a theatrical flourish, she unfolded the towel again, and the coin had vanished. "Where did it go?" I asked, perplexed, rummaging through the towel in front of me. But the coin was nowhere to be found in the towel. I scrutinized her hands, convinced I would find it there, but they were empty. Scanning the bathroom in the hope of catching a glimpse of the coin somewhere, but nothing. "Ok, you must have just thrown it away," I resigned, even though I knew that was impossible in the small bathroom without me noticing.

"Sometimes, things you're missing are closer than you think," she told me, as if quoting a calendar saying, tapped my ear with her left hand, and produced the "vanished" coin. "Told you, I can do magic," she declared with a triumphant smile. "Oh man, how do you do that? I want to be able to do it too! Can you show me how it works?" I exclaimed, half in awe, half frustrated that I hadn't immediately figured out the trick. "Emily, there's nothing to show, I just can do magic," she responded with a broad, smug grin. Despite my repeated attempts to get her to reveal the secret behind the trick, she insisted it was real magic.

"Come on, the bathwater is ready. Time for your bath," she concluded my inquiries and turned off the faucet. She removed my dress, undid the diaper around my waist, and helped me into the perfectly warm, bubble-covered, blue bathwater. "Close your eyes," she gently instructed after I had settled into the cozy warmth of the bath, and she had filled a small pitcher with water. With a mix of caution and tenderness, she poured the water over my hair before massaging in a sweet-smelling shampoo. "You can open your eyes now," she finally said with a smile, as she put away the pink princess-themed children's shampoo.

Perhaps fearing that I might get bored during the rest of the bath, she then attached a colorful water wheel maze to the edge of the bathtub before taking a washcloth and beginning to clean the rest of my body. Initially, I didn't pay much attention to the toy, doubting I'd find much enjoyment playing alone with something meant for toddlers, and simply sat still while Viola's mother scrubbed my back thoroughly.

However, a mix of boredom and a sense of embarrassment—after all, I was being bathed naked, like a toddler, by the woman I was in love with—led me to engage with the game without much enthusiasm. Halfheartedly, I filled the accompanying cup with bathwater and distributed the water across the three openings to spin the interior water wheels. To my surprise, only one of the wheels began to turn, while the other two remained motionless.

It seemed that adjusting the valves correctly was also required, I speculated—the game was more challenging than I had anticipated—and experimented with the small levers on the side, convinced I had now found the key to solving it. After all, it was just a toy for children; the solution couldn't be that complex. Upon refilling the water, the two other wheels turned, but the wheel that had moved before now stood still. Damn, this couldn't be happening. I changed my strategy again. But yet again, a wheel remained immobile as if cemented in place, even if this time it was a different wheel. Once more, I tried, pressing various valves to coordinate the wheels and pouring water into the three openings. But still, not all wheels turned. It was maddening.

"Arms up, my little tinkerer," Viola's mom interrupted me just as I watched in frustration for the umpteenth time how the water managed to spin only two out of the three wheels. She lifted my arms to clean my armpits before releasing them a moment later and devoting herself to cleaning my breasts, allowing me to return my attention to the water maze.

Focused on finally solving the maze, I only became aware of my surroundings again when I felt Viola's mother's washcloth-wrapped hand begin to intensely clean my crotch. I had been so engrossed in the game that I hadn't even noticed that she had drained some of the bath water to better clean my lower body. Embarrassed, I looked at my exposed crotch while the wet, warm washcloth ran over my labia before she lifted my legs slightly the next moment and cleaned the area around my anus with the same thoroughness.

"Did you manage to get all three water wheels spinning at the same time?" she finally asked, after she had finished washing me and threw the washcloth in the laundry. I shook my head in embarrassment. With an encouraging smile, she then said, "Take it as a little challenge for the next time you bathe here. I'm sure you'll get it next time! A little tip, it's not just about the right setting of the valves but also the order in which you pour the water," she revealed to me with a wink. Great, I had tried every possible setting of the valves, even adjusted them while the water was running, hoping to get all the wheels spinning, and the solution had simply been to pour the water in a different order. Why the hell hadn't I thought of that!?

"Just close your eyes for a moment so I can rinse out the shampoo," she thankfully interrupted my inner self-flagellation before I could further berate myself for my own ineptitude. I complied, feeling the warm water wash the foam from my hair. After she drained the water, she dried my hair with a towel and wrapped it gently around my head. "I bet my little princess is as hungry as I am, right? How about some fried eggs after that royal bath?" she asked, drying the rest of my body with another towel. Already feeling hungry, I eagerly nodded in agreement. She then carefully helped me out of the tub and led me to the changing table in Viola's room.

The usual routine followed. As she spread a diaper beneath me and let the baby powder fall like snow onto my crotch, releasing the typical scent of talcum, I lay there deeply relaxed, reflecting on the day. Despite a few tears, it had been a very beautiful day overall. The embarrassments – wearing the water wings and the mishap with the swim diaper – seemed less significant in retrospect than they had felt at the moment. The overwhelming feeling was having spent a beautiful day by an idyllic lake with a wonderful woman. An inner smile spread as I thought about our swim together, our velcro ball game, and how she finally caught me after I had denied having wet my diaper. Oh, if only every day could be this beautiful. If only this day could never end.

I was just thinking about suggesting to Viola's mother that we play another round of Velcro ball in the garden after dinner when she, unexpectedly for me, laid out my pajamas in front of me. Was it that late already!? There had to be time for a round of Velcro ball! I looked at the garment before me, not thrilled, which revealed that at least my day would soon end. Moreover, the romper seemed anything but suitable for playing Velcro ball. With the integrated footies, I surely wouldn't fit into my shoes, and I had serious doubts that Viola's mother would want me to soil the feet of the romper with dirt and grass stains while playing on the lawn. "Can't I put on the pajamas later, when I go to bed? I wanted to play a round of velcro ball outside with you after dinner," I explained to her subsequently. Viola's mother gave me a loving smile but declined my request anyway. "I'd really love to play a round of velcro ball with you after dinner, Emily, but we probably won't have the time for it. After dinner, it's unfortunately time for Pajanimals and then bed. There's no time left for velcro ball today." "But I'm not even tired!" I protested, barely concealing my frustration, especially since I had mentally prepared myself to play velcro ball again, even though I hadn't yet asked for permission. Plus, I always hated having to go to bed so early while everyone else could stay up and have fun.

"Emily, today has been long and full of events. You're tired, even if you might not feel it. A good night's sleep is important for you now," Viola's mother tried to explain to me understandingly, as she began to pull the romper over my feet. Reluctantly, I immediately withdrew my feet from the pajamas. I wasn't tired, I could judge that best. "I'm not tired!" I repeated forcefully, crossing my arms over my bare chest. "Oh, Emily, don't make this harder than it needs to be. You go to bed at the same time every day, and after dinner, it's simply bedtime for you. Routine is important for little princesses like you!" Viola's mother sighed, as she made another attempt to thread my legs through the fabric. "But I want to play Velcro ball again today!" I retorted stubbornly, pulling my legs out of the romper again.

Viola's mother leaned down to me and gently stroked my face. "I understand you want to play again. I'd love to play Velcro ball with you again today too. But restorative sleep is important, you want to be fit for another surprise trip tomorrow, right? And not so tired that you're not able to enjoy the trip," she skillfully shifted the topic. "What surprise trip?" I immediately wanted to know. "You'll find out tomorrow. But we can only go on the trip if our little princess is fit enough and not completely overtired! I thought you were a big girl who understands that it makes no sense to go somewhere special if you're so tired that you can't even enjoy it," she explained to me. I felt cornered, caught between the desire to stay up longer and the longing to be seen as a "big girl" who understands the importance of enough sleep. With a heavy heart, I gave in, driven by the need to be seen as mature and sensible in her eyes and nodded. Probably she was right anyway, even the most beautiful things are exhausting when you're overtired. So, I let her dress me in the pajamas and refrained from further drama because I couldn't play Velcro ball anymore today. Several times I tried to coax out of her where we would be going, but as usual, she remained silent.

When we sat down for dinner, I was still convinced I was wide awake. Yet, no sooner had my bib been tied on and we started eating, I felt my energy draining. My eyes grew heavier with each passing moment, making it a real struggle to keep them open while eating.

I had just about finished half of my fried egg when it happened for the first time: As I moved a carefully cut piece of the egg towards my mouth with my baby fork, my eyes briefly shut. In that short moment of nodding off, the egg slipped from my fork and landed on my bib. Realizing what had happened before Viola's mother could notice, I quickly scraped the egg off my bib and shoved it into my mouth. While I managed to hide my mishap from her at that moment, this would change just a few bites later. Completely overtaken by sleep, I didn't even register that I had soiled my bib as I slipped into another moment of sleep and continued to eat as if nothing had happened.

"Well, aren't we lucky you had a bib on," Viola's mother concluded as she cleaned me up after I finally finished my portion and found several pieces of fried egg on my bib. "I think we'll skip the bedtime TV show tonight; you can barely keep your eyes open," she said caringly as she took off my bib. Instead of our usual bedtime routine, she led me straight to bed after I brushed my teeth. My exhaustion was so profound that I lacked the energy to protest when she, after tucking me into bed, locked the crib's side and, just like the previous evening, placed a pacifier in my mouth. "Goodnight, Emily. Dream something beautiful," I heard her whisper to me as she handed me my teddy bear and gave me a kiss on the forehead, before I fell asleep the next moment.

[ImmortalSoul]

I do hope that there is more of this story.