slow burn Under Pressure - Innocence in the Shadow of Power

[dpzed]

Here we go again. As I had just started writing my first story ever (Whispers in the Dark), I already learned a ton. While I still uses crutches (AI), I thought I could already use what I've learned with Whispers in the Dark and apply it to a new, more thought out story. This one is already mostly outlined, has longer chapters and a completely different theme to it. I will still continue Whispers in the Dark of course, but while that one is only roughly planned in my head, this new one is fully planned out on paper.

 

Except for one wetting scene, the build up is rather slow, but it will be worth it. I have a lot planned for this story. You can view the first 3 chapters as some kind of very long prologue.

 

Let me know what you think!

 

Under Pressure

Innocence in the Shadow of Power

 

Chapter 1 - Birthday

        Under the soothing rush of the shower, I felt the weight of today pressing down on me. It was a pivotal moment, the divide between the life I'd grown accustomed to and the uncertain horizon ahead. Each droplet mingling with my tears seemed to underscore the harsh reality: I was saying goodbye to the comfort of my tiny apartment, facing the daunting prospect of nowhere to belong.

        "Happy birthday, Feli," I murmured to my reflection as I emerged from the steam. Felicity von Sterntal—that's my full name. The "von" part adds a touch of German flair, a nod to nobility, though our family's far from royal. My grandparents, German immigrants who made their way to the USA in the 60s, christened me with the nickname "Feli," though it's pronounced more like "Fehly." I never really knew them, as they passed when I was just a baby. Still, I've grown fond of my name. It's distinct, and it ties me to something, even if it's just the echoes of the past.

        Drawing upon every bit of strength I could muster, I willed a smile onto my lips, hoping to cloak the uncertainty gnawing at my core. The girl in the mirror, barely reaching five feet tall, her deep blue eyes framed by unruly black hair cascading down to her mid-back, reflected my forced composure. Despite my 18 years, she seemed more like a lost teenager navigating the tumult of adolescence rather than on the brink of adulthood. As I locked eyes with her, the facade faltered, exposing the raw loneliness lurking beneath the surface. She lacked the confidence she sought to project.
Stepping into my living room—well, my only room—a wave of sadness engulfed me. Today marked the end of calling this place home. Glancing around, memories flooded back, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.

        In one corner stood my tiny kitchen, equipped with just the basics: stove, sink, fridge, and microwave. It had witnessed its fair share of culinary experiments and mishaps.

        Opposite the kitchen, my bed nestled into another corner, its modest size a testament to the limited space. Despite its smallness, it had cradled me through countless nights of rest and contemplation.

        Across from the bed, my desk stood, once housing my PC which I'd already packed away. It had been my sanctuary for studying and coding, a space of productivity and focus. And lots and lots of gaming.

        Now, everything else was neatly packed in boxes, except for my trusty backpack holding the essentials: phone, laptop, and a few changes of clothes. As I surveyed the remnants of my life here, a shroud of uncertainty settled over my thoughts.

        I scooped up the final crumbs of cereal from the box, a stark reminder of dwindling supplies in my modest kitchen. With a sigh, I sank into the worn chair at my desk, spoon in hand, and retrieved the letter once more. Its contents had been etched into my memory since its arrival on the day of my high school graduation, just weeks ago.

        As I savored the last bites of cereal, I read over the letter one last time.

 

Dear Felicity,

We hope this letter finds you well. It is with careful consideration that your mother and I have reached a decision regarding your financial support. As you have successfully completed your high school education and are soon to reach the age of majority, we believe it is appropriate to adjust our financial arrangements accordingly.

Regrettably, we must inform you that, effective immediately, we will no longer be providing you with financial assistance, including your allowance. Furthermore, in light of your impending 18th birthday, arrangements have been made for movers to assist you in vacating the apartment that we have provided for you. We view this transition as a gesture of our support and encouragement as you embark on the next chapter of your life.

Please be prepared to surrender your keys to the designated representative upon their arrival.

With warm regards,

Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal

 

        It was a cruel slap in the face, a harsh reminder of my parents' indifference, their decision to cut off the last lifeline of financial support right on the brink of my adulthood. As I absorbed the cold, impersonal words of the letter, a surge of anger and resentment boiled within me. This wasn't just about money; it was a final abandonment, a deliberate shove into the abyss of independence.

        The memory of how I came to live in this apartment at such a young age flooded back, stirring up a blend of bitterness and resignation. My parents, consumed by their careers and absent from my life, had effectively abandoned their parental duties when I was just fifteen. Their presence had never been significant anyway; nannies had filled the void left by their absence, their faces blending into a blur of caretakers who had come and gone over the years.

        Despite their neglect, the apartment had provided a semblance of stability in a chaotic world. It was my sanctuary, my own space amidst the turmoil. And now, as they callously stripped away even that small comfort, I couldn't help but feel bitterness at the injustice of it all.

        With a heavy heart, I folded the letter and set it aside, its implications casting a palpable weight in the air. The cereal in my bowl had lost its appeal, each spoonful a bitter reminder of the uncertainty looming ahead. As the minutes stretched on, I pondered the cruel irony of their supposed "birthday gift," a gesture tinged with spite rather than kindness. And as the harsh reality of my situation settled in, I steeled myself for the turbulent road ahead, resolved to carve out my own path despite the hurdles in my way.

        As the doorbell shattered the quiet of my apartment, I braced myself for the inevitable. With a steadying breath, I crossed the room and swung open the door, greeted by the stern gaze of a man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a somber suit. His presence filled the doorway, a forewarning of the chaos awaiting me. Introducing himself as a representative of the von Sterntal family, a bitter irony settled over me at the shared surname, a reminder of the tangled connections binding me to this tumultuous moment.

        Behind him, a group of movers stood with downcast expressions, their sympathetic glances betraying their discomfort at being complicit in my forced eviction. It seemed they had been briefed on the situation, their professional demeanor tinged with a touch of empathy.

        "Miss von Sterntal," the representative began, his voice laced with formality. "I assume you're aware of the purpose of our visit," he continued, his gaze drifting to the neatly packed boxes scattered throughout the apartment, silent witnesses to the impending upheaval.

        I simply nodded, the lump in my throat stifling any words that threatened to escape.

        "Very well," he said briskly, his tone businesslike. "If you could just sign here and hand over the keys, we'll take care of the rest." His smile carried a hint of reassurance, emphasizing that the movers' services came without cost to me. With a resigned acceptance, I took the document and signed it, my signature a stark acknowledgment of my departure from the property. Handing over the keys, I watched as the movers sprang into action, loading my belongings into the waiting truck. It was a transaction devoid of choice, a forced relinquishment of my home, as I stood by, a silent witness to the unraveling of my life.

        As the movers finished loading my belongings, I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the only link to the life I was leaving behind. With a final click, the representative locked the door, marking the end of an era. As we headed towards the waiting truck, he spoke up once more, offering me a semblance of choice amidst the chaos.

        "The movers will take you wherever you want," he said, his words a small act of kindness in the midst of turmoil. And just before we parted ways, he added, "Oh, and Miss von Sterntal, happy birthday by the way." His well-wishes hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the cruel twist of fate that marked the day.

        With a handshake and a farewell, he left me standing there, the taste of bitterness lingering. As the truck pulled away, carrying me towards an uncertain future, I couldn't help but resent the hollow birthday wishes, a stark reminder of the emptiness awaiting me.

        I directed the movers towards a storage unit I had booked online for a week, a temporary sanctuary for the fragments of my past life. It was a pragmatic solution, born from necessity with the scant funds left to me by my parents. As we navigated the bustling streets of the city, I couldn't shake off the irony of my circumstances. Despite being the offspring of the private owners and executives of a multi-billion-dollar tech empire nestled in the heart of NYC, their generosity towards me had always been in short supply.

        Their reminders of my status as their "accident" reverberated in my thoughts, a persistent reminder of my position on the fringes of their world. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that despite their wealth and influence, I was little more than an inconvenience to them. And as we unloaded the remnants of my former life into the storage unit, I felt the weight of their neglect bearing down on me, a burden I carried with me into an uncertain future.

        As the movers drove off, leaving me to face the stark reality of my situation, I gazed at the orderly array of boxes in the storage unit. Each one contained memories and possessions, now symbolizing the entirety of my existence. This was it – my entire life condensed into a confined space, a tangible manifestation of the upheaval that had swept through my world in a single day.

        Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks as emotions flooded over me. Time seemed to blur as I sat amidst my belongings, the weight of my newfound homelessness crashing down on me in relentless waves. In that moment of vulnerability, every suppressed feeling from the day – the abandonment, the betrayal, the uncertainty – converged, drowning me in a torrent of despair.

        I couldn't tell how long I stayed there, lost in the abyss of my anguish. All I knew was that this was my reality now – adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with nowhere to call home.

        As I closed the storage unit, a heavy sigh escaped my lips, mingling with the chill of the morning air. My backpack felt like a lifeline, its weight a reminder of the few possessions I still possessed. While my plans for the days ahead seemed meager, tinged with a sense of futility, I trudged along the bustling streets of New York City. Each step carried the weight of uncertainty, a burden I had grown accustomed to bearing alone.

        As I rounded a corner, my gaze inevitably fell upon the towering silhouette of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper, its imposing presence etched into the city skyline. I knew every facet of that building all too well, a monument to the wealth and success my parents had achieved. Yet, it also symbolized the stark divide between their world of privilege and my own neglected existence. High above, on the top floor, lay the domain of Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal, my parents, seemingly peering down on me from their ivory tower. The shadow cast by their empire seemed to mirror the shadow they had cast over my life, leaving me in the darkness of their neglect.

        Shaking my head to dispel the troubling thoughts, I stepped into the warmth of a nearby cafe, seeking refuge from the chill of the city streets. Dwelling on the weight of my circumstances was a luxury I couldn't afford at the moment; practical matters demanded my attention. With each passing moment, the reality of my situation loomed larger—I didn't even have a place to rest my head for the night. The uncertainty gnawed at me, fueling a sense of urgency as I scanned the bustling cafe for a temporary respite from my troubles.

        Choosing a solitary spot by the expansive window, I couldn't help but feel drawn to the lone chair stationed beside the table. It seemed to mirror my own isolation, a silent companion in the midst of a crowded cafe. As I settled into the seat, I signaled the server and placed an order for a simple tea, mindful of my dwindling funds. The price felt steep for such a basic beverage, but I knew the cost was necessary to gain access to the cafe's WiFi—a lifeline in my current predicament. With a sense of resolve, I awaited my order, hoping that the warmth of the tea would offer some solace amidst the uncertainty of my circumstances.

        Taking a cautious sip of the steaming tea, I set my laptop upon the table and powered it up, the soft glow of the screen casting a comforting light in the dimly lit cafe. With a sense of determination, I delved into the task at hand, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I navigated through job listings and online applications. The simplicity of my plan belied the daunting reality of my situation—I was an 18-year-old with only a high school diploma, adrift in the competitive landscape of New York City's job market. Yet, despite the odds stacked against me, I poured all my energy into the search, knowing that every opportunity seized could mean the difference between survival and succumbing to the shadows of my circumstances.

        As I sifted through yet another round of discouraging rejection emails flooding my inbox, my focus was abruptly shattered by the boisterous entrance of a man engaged in a heated phone conversation. His voice carried above the ambient chatter of the cafe, drawing the attention of patrons with its intensity. Despite my initial reluctance to eavesdrop, I found myself inadvertently tuning in to his conversation, snippets of disdain toward a VIP client punctuating the air. Intrigued, I observed him as he made his way to the counter, his animated gestures betraying the gravity of his conversation. With a sense of curiosity, I couldn't help but wonder about the complexities of his world, momentarily distracted from the weight of my own struggles by the drama unfolding before me.

        Feigning engrossment in my laptop screen, I diverted my gaze as the man collected his coffee and turned in my direction. Discomfort prickled at the edges of my consciousness; I loathed the idea of being caught staring, a violation of the unspoken etiquette of public spaces. With practiced nonchalance, I buried myself in the facade of productivity, my fingers tracing absent patterns on the keyboard as I scrolled through meaningless content. 

        As the man fell silent, a fleeting sense of dread coiled within me, only to be shattered by the resumption of his conversation moments later. Relief washed over me as he departed the cafe without so much as a second glance in my direction, leaving me to exhale a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The brief encounter served as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between privacy and observation in the bustling landscape of city life.

        As the hours slipped away, so too did the fragile tendrils of hope that had buoyed my spirits earlier in the day. Despite my best efforts, the job search yielded little more than a string of rejections, each one serving as a stark reminder of the uphill battle I faced in securing employment. 

        With a heavy heart, I conceded to the reality of the situation—I had made little progress, and time was slipping away. Gathering my belongings and tucking my laptop securely into my backpack, I steeled myself for the next hurdle: finding shelter for the night. The uncertainty loomed large, casting a shadow over my already precarious existence, but I refused to succumb to despair. 

        With determination fueling my steps, I pushed open the door of the cafe and stepped back out into the bustling streets of New York City.

        With a bag of chips clasped tightly in my hand, I embarked on a solitary journey through the labyrinth of city streets, my footsteps echoing against the pavement as I wandered aimlessly. The neon glow of storefronts illuminated the impending darkness, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the concrete. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a constant reminder of the meager sustenance I had managed to scrounge up for dinner. Yet, as I roamed the unfamiliar terrain, a sense of helplessness washed over me, amplifying the weight of my circumstances. The prospect of renting a room or even a bed felt like an impossible luxury, far beyond the reach of my limited means. Lost in the sea of uncertainty, I struggled to discern a path forward, the cityscape looming around me like an insurmountable obstacle.

        Sitting down heavily on a bench, I sought solace in the simple act of munching on the salt-flavored chips, their flavor resembling the silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. As I gazed into the distance, my eyes inevitably landed on the looming presence of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper once again, its towering silhouette a constant reminder of my own inadequacy in the shadow of my parents' success. A surge of defiance rose within me, driving me to shake off the suffocating weight of helplessness that threatened to engulf me. With a resolute shake of my head, I refused to surrender to despair. Pushing myself upright, I continued to scour the streets for any glimmer of hope, a beacon amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me whole.

        Rounding a corner, my weary eyes alighted upon a surprisingly pristine alleyway nestled beside the imposing facade of a law firm. Shielded from the harsh gaze of the bustling street and buffered from the relentless gusts of wind that swept through the city, the alley offered a semblance of respite amidst the chaos of urban life. With darkness descending upon the cityscape and exhaustion weighing heavy upon my shoulders, I knew that this secluded alcove would have to suffice for the night. Despite the pang of discomfort that gnawed at my conscience, I resolved to make the best of the situation, clinging to the fleeting sense of security offered by the sheltered confines of the alleyway.

        With a weary sigh, I nestled against the unyielding coolness of the concrete wall, my jacket wrapped tightly around me in a feeble attempt to stave off the chill of the night air. Clutching my backpack to my chest like a lifeline, I sought solace in the familiar weight of my belongings, their presence a source of comfort amidst the uncertainty that loomed around me. As exhaustion weighed heavy upon my eyelids, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into the welcoming embrace of sleep, the cacophony of the city fading into the background as I surrendered to the oblivion of slumber. In the solitude of the alleyway, I found a fleeting sense of peace, a respite from the trials and tribulations that had plagued me throughout the day. And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moonlight, I surrendered myself to the darkness, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of dreams.

 

Chapter 2 - John

        I woke up to the raucous symphony of the waking city, my body stiff and sore from the uncomfortable concrete floor of the alley. The cold seeped into my bones, a reminder of the unforgiving night that had passed. Determination surged within me as I made a mental note to invest in a sleeping bag, albeit a budget-friendly one. Luxury was a distant concept now. Every expense had to be carefully weighed against necessity, but not freezing to death seemed necessary enough.

        The distant rumble of a garbage truck echoed down the street, prompting me to glance towards the nearby dumpster that had offered me some semblance of privacy throughout the night. Taking it as my cue to depart, I pushed myself up from the cold concrete, aching muscles protesting the movement. With a determined resolve, I reaffirmed my plan for the day, the same as yesterday, unaltered despite the discomforts of the night. 

        With my trusty backpack snug against my back, I traversed the bustling streets, a lone figure amidst the throngs of morning commuters. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from a nearby bakery, tempting me with its promise of sustenance. Yielding to the growling protest of my stomach, I indulged in a modest yet satisfying sandwich, procured with the meager funds at my disposal. Satiated, albeit temporarily, I continued on my journey, guided by a sense of familiarity towards the same cafe that had become my refuge the day before.

         Entering the cafe, I was greeted by a comforting wave of warmth and the familiar aroma of brewing coffee. It felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of my current circumstances. Glancing over to the corner where I had sat the day before, I breathed a sigh of relief to find it still vacant, my spot waiting for me like an old friend. With a sense of quiet determination, I settled into the familiar surroundings, ordering another one of the overpriced teas that had become a guilty pleasure amidst my frugality. Opening my laptop, I delved once more into the relentless task of scouring job listings, navigating the virtual labyrinth in search of a beacon of hope amidst the sea of rejections.

        It was a bitter irony that plagued my thoughts as I sifted through the digital landscape of job postings. The online forums, where praise flowed freely for my coding prowess, seemed worlds apart from the harsh reality of my current situation. Despite being self-taught and garnering accolades from virtual strangers, I had faltered in monetizing my skills, relegating them to the realm of mere hobbyism. 

        Coding and gaming had long served as my refuge, a sanctuary from the tumultuous years of high school and the suffocating grip of loneliness. Yet, as I now grappled with the daunting task of securing employment to sustain myself, the weight of my perceived failure pressed down upon me like a suffocating blanket. 

        If only my parents had told me sooner, I would’ve probably had something figured out by now.

        Lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts, I found myself gazing absently out the window, the passing scenery a blur against the canvas of my mind. It was then that I noticed the familiar figure of the man from the day before, striding purposefully towards the entrance of the cafe. A pang of apprehension gripped me, prompting a swift diversion of my attention back to the glowing screen of my laptop. Tuning in to the ambient sounds of the cafe, I couldn't help but overhear his order, a simple request for a coffee to go, mirroring his routine from the previous day. A subtle sense of curiosity stirred within me, mingling with a tinge of unease as I pondered the significance of his presence once more.

        As I remained engrossed in my task of scouring job listings and dispatching applications into the digital void, the absence of the man's departure did not escape my notice. Despite his initial intention of ordering a coffee to go, the distinct lack of movement behind me hinted at his lingering presence within the confines of the cafe. Resolutely keeping my focus trained on the flickering glow of my laptop screen, I resisted the temptation to steal a glance over my shoulder, preferring to remain ensconced in my own world. 

        Time drifted by in the steady rhythm of keystrokes and mouse clicks, punctuated only by the murmurs of other patrons and the occasional clink of ceramic against tabletops. It wasn't until a considerable while later that I observed his departure from the corner of my eye, his enigmatic presence departing as quietly as it had arrived. A fleeting curiosity stirred within me, fleeting thoughts of his peculiar aura and expensive attire crossing my mind before swiftly dissipating amidst the urgency of my own endeavors.

        As the day wore on and my focus waned, I made the decision to call it quits, at least for the time being. With a newfound determination fueled by a semblance of planning, I bid farewell to the comforting confines of the cafe and ventured back out into the bustling streets. Remembering the necessity of securing a sleeping bag for the impending night, I retraced my steps to the store I had spotted that morning. 

        Scanning the shelves for the most budget-friendly option, I finally settled on the cheapest offering. Though it offered no protection against dampness, it was a small comfort knowing that it would stave off the biting cold, leaving me with enough funds to sustain myself with nourishment for a few more days to come.

        With a sense of resignation gnawing at my insides, I purchased another bag of chips, though acutely aware of their meager nutritional value. As I trudged back towards the alley that had become my makeshift refuge, I couldn't help but cast a glance towards the towering spire that housed my parents' corporate empire. Biting down on a chip, the taste a bitter reminder of my circumstances, I felt a surge of despair welling within me. The sight of their skyscraper loomed over me like a mocking specter, a constant reminder of the chasm that separated us, both physically and emotionally. With clenched teeth and a fervent hope burning within my chest, I prayed that this dismal routine would soon become nothing more than a painful memory of a bygone era.

        As the sun dipped below the horizon and the biting chill of the night descended upon the city, I nestled into the familiarity of my chosen spot within the alley. With the thin barrier of the sleeping bag offering a modicum of warmth, I settled down, leaning against my backpack for a semblance of comfort.

        Tears welled in my eyes, tracing silent pathways down my cheeks, as the crushing weight of my predicament enveloped me once more. In the darkness, surrounded by the echoes of solitude, I felt the suffocating embrace of hopelessness tighten its grip around my heart. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of determination burned within me, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the engulfing darkness.

        Clinging to that glimmer of resilience like a lifeline, I vowed silently to myself that I would not succumb, that I would persevere against the odds, no matter how insurmountable they seemed. For in the depths of my despair, I found a resolve that whispered fiercely in the silence: I could not give up. I would not give up.

        As I stirred from my fitful slumber, the city had already sprung to life around me, its bustling energy a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the alley. Despite the persistent ache that clung to my body like a lingering shadow, I couldn't help but acknowledge the small comfort afforded by the sleeping bag wrapped around me. Unlike the previous night, the shivers that had plagued me were noticeably absent. The sleeping bag had proven to be a worthwhile investment.

        With a weary yet grateful sigh, I rose to my feet and carefully packed up my sleeping bag, folding it neatly as I prepared to face another day. Embracing the familiarity of my newfound routine, I steeled myself for the challenges that lay ahead.

        As I retraced the familiar steps of my routine, grabbing the same sandwich from the same bakery and making my way to the same cafe, I couldn't help but marvel at the swiftness with which humans could fall into patterns. 

        Yet, upon entering the cafe, the comfort of routine shattered in an instant. Seated at my usual spot in front of the window, in the corner, was the enigmatic man who had piqued my curiosity the days before. His gaze was fixed out the window, lost in thought as he sipped on his coffee. A sense of intrigue tinged with apprehension washed over me as I hesitated in the doorway, uncertain of how to proceed in the wake of this unexpected disruption to my routine.

        With a resentful glance at the man's back, I took a seat behind him, my frustration simmering beneath the surface as I ordered my tea and opened my laptop to resume my job hunt. Sighing heavily, I couldn't help but feel the weight of disappointment as I sifted through the slew of new rejections that had flooded my inbox. Another day stretching out before me, seemingly destined to end in the same vein of fruitless endeavors and dashed hopes.

        Lost in the rhythm of typing out applications, I was jolted from my focus by the subtle stirrings of the man in front of me. Ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the screen, hoping to avoid any unwanted interactions. Yet, despite my efforts to feign indifference, I could sense his probing gaze boring into me, a silent weight that I could no longer ignore. After what felt like an eternity of silent scrutiny, I relented, lifting my eyes from the screen to meet his gaze. To my surprise, he had moved closer, now sitting directly in front of me, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

        "Hi, I'm John," he said, extending a hand in greeting, but I remained rigid, my gaze locked in a glare, still nursing my resentment for his disruption of my routine. His attempt at cordiality was met with my silent rebuke.

        "All right, all right," he continued, his tone laced with a hint of apology, "I apologize for taking your spot, but I needed an excuse to talk to you."

        His words hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of his admission. Despite my lingering irritation, a flicker of curiosity sparked within me, compelling me to lower my guard ever so slightly.

        "That's a pretty bad excuse," I retorted sharply, my glare unwavering as I remained guarded.

        "Yeah, probably," he chuckled in response, his admission punctuated by a hint of self-awareness. Yet, before I could respond further, he continued, his demeanor shifting to a more serious tone.

        "Anyway, I wanted to make you an offer," he stated, his eyes appraising me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "And I think you'd be perfect for this."

        Despite my lingering apprehension, the mention of an offer piqued my curiosity, stirring a mixture of intrigue and caution within me. His lingering gaze, however, remained a discomforting reminder of the unease that still lingered between us.

        "What kind of offer?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as he smirked in response, a gesture that already grated on my nerves.

        "It's something I can't talk about in detail here, but it will be very profitable for you and you seem perfect for this," he replied, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made me uneasy. He jotted down his phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across the table before standing up.

        "I bet you could really use some money right now," he remarked, his eyes trailing over to my backpack and sleeping bag beside me, sending a chill down my spine. As he made his exit from the cafe, he spoke once more, his parting words hanging in the air like a weight upon my shoulders.

        "Give me a ring, Miss von Sterntal," he said, the mention of my name sending a jolt of mortification through me. I watched in silence as he left the cafe, his words echoing in my mind, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in their wake.

        As I sat there, grappling with the unsettling revelation that dawned upon me, I pieced together the puzzle in my mind. He had been watching me, studying my every move. Perhaps he had glanced over my shoulder yesterday, observing the desperation with which I scoured job listings and sifted through rejection letters. My name, Felicity von Sterntal, had undoubtedly been revealed through the numerous applications I had submitted, a detail he could have easily gleaned. And the presence of the sleeping bag, a symbol of my desperation and downtrodden circumstances, likely provided him with the final confirmation he needed.

        It became painfully clear that I must have appeared to him as the perfect victim for whatever scheme he was plotting. The realization sent a chill down my spine, a wave of vulnerability washing over me as I grappled with the unsettling implications of his calculated observation. With a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach, I resolved to proceed with caution, wary of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of his enticing offer.

        As I continued to sift through job offers, the memory of John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the reservations gnawing at my conscience, I couldn't shake the allure of his seemingly affluent demeanor and the enigmatic promise he had made. His professional attire and confident demeanor bespoke a level of wealth and influence that was undeniably intriguing, especially for someone who appeared to be in his late twenties.

        Yet, as I found myself briefly succumbing to the fleeting temptation, a resolute determination surged within me. I shook my head. I refused to entertain the notion of compromising my principles, even in the face of such uncertainty and desperation. The thought of possibly engaging in anything of a sexual nature for monetary gain was quickly dismissed, my self-worth and dignity too precious to be bartered away. Also it’s not like I have any sexual experience anyway.

        However, despite my resolve, a speck of curiosity about John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind. As I continued to sift through job offers, his presence remained a lingering question mark, tugging at the edges of my consciousness with a persistent allure that I couldn't quite shake.

        The day dragged on, each passing moment marked by the familiar sting of disappointment as my efforts yielded no success. Despite the mysterious interruption earlier, I quickly regained my focus, returning to the monotonous routine of job hunting. 

        A while later, seated in the same spot, beneath the looming shadow of the skyscraper that towered above me and reminded me of my past, I found myself lost in thought, munching on the same kind of chips that had become a staple of my meager diet.

        As I chewed on the familiar salty snack, the memories of the past days flooded through me, a relentless tide of reminders of my struggles and setbacks. The relentless cycle of uncertainty weighed heavily on my mind, a constant reminder of the uphill battle I faced in clawing my way out of the depths of despair. Amidst the turmoil of my thoughts, a simple realization emerged: I needed to break free from the confines of this repetitive existence, starting with something as simple as changing my dinner menu for tomorrow.

        With a heavy sigh, I rose from my seat and began the familiar trek towards my secluded alley. As I passed by the office of the law firm, now a fixture in my daily surroundings, I couldn't help but steal a longing glance through the windows, pondering the lives of those within. Lost in idle daydreams, my attention was abruptly shattered when I found myself locking eyes with a man about to step into an elevator at the back of the lobby. It was John, and to my horror, he had noticed me too.

        Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, flushing my cheeks with embarrassment as I hastily averted my gaze and bolted around the corner, seeking refuge in the safety of my alley sanctuary. The encounter left me rattled, a knot of apprehension coiling in the pit of my stomach as I grappled with the unsettling implications of our unexpected meeting.

        Exhaustion weighed heavily upon me as I settled into my makeshift resting place behind the dumpster, seeking solace in the refuge of sleep. Yet, despite my weariness, rest proved elusive as I found myself caught in a hazy limbo between wakefulness and slumber. Memories of the day swirled around in my mind like a tumultuous whirlwind, refusing to grant me the respite I so desperately sought, leaving me in a disorienting haze where they swirled like fragments of a fractured reality.

        Amidst the fog of my memories, John's face emerged intermittently, a haunting presence that lingered on the fringes of my consciousness. Despite my best efforts to find respite in sleep, his haunting gaze seemed to follow me into the realm of dreams, casting a shadow of unease over the fragile sanctuary of my thoughts. And so, I remained suspended in a daze, trapped in the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, grappling with the unsettling echoes of the day's events that refused to be silenced.

        As I drifted on the precipice of sleep, I was violently yanked back into consciousness by the sensation of someone shaking me with rough urgency. With a gasp, my eyes flew open to behold two looming figures, their silhouettes cast in stark relief against the feeble glow of the street lantern that pierced the darkness of the alley. 

        A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, as fear surged through every fiber of my being, rendering me paralyzed in shock. Tears streamed down my face in torrents, blurring my vision as I trembled uncontrollably, a helpless captive to the terror that gripped me in its merciless embrace. Frozen in place, I could do naught but gaze up at the looming shadows, consumed by a suffocating sense of vulnerability in the face of the unknown.

        "Hey girl, give us all of your money!" one of the figures demanded, their voice dripping with menace as a sinister smirk danced upon their lips, barely visible in the dim illumination of the street lantern.

        "I-I-I don't have a-any," I managed to stammer out through trembling lips, my voice barely above a whisper as tears continued to stream down my face, betraying my overwhelming fear.

        Before I could even comprehend their next move, they lunged forward, seizing my backpack from my grasp with ruthless efficiency. Despite my feeble attempts to resist, I found myself held down by unseen hands, rendered powerless by the shock that still held me captive in its grip.

        Helplessly, I watched as they emptied the contents of my backpack onto the cold pavement, their greedy hands sifting through my meager belongings with callous disregard. Each item strewn haphazardly before me served as a stark reminder of the fragility of my existence, a harsh testament to the cruelty of fate in a world that showed no mercy to the downtrodden.

        "HEY!" a voice suddenly pierced the tense air, echoing through the alleyway as the sound of running footsteps grew louder. "What's going on here? Leave her alone!" the voice thundered with authority, sending a shiver down my spine.

        "Oh shit, let's go," one of the figures muttered to the other, their panicked voices barely audible over the pounding of my heart. With swift movements, they fled towards the other end of the alley, their forms disappearing into the darkness as they vanished from sight.

        The mysterious man, who had come to my rescue, pursued them briefly before coming to a halt, realizing they were already out of reach. With a heavy exhale, he turned his attention back to me, his gaze softening as he took in the sight before him.

        I remained huddled atop my sleeping bag, my face buried in my knees which I clutched tightly to my chest. Shivers wracked my body as tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the remnants of fear that still lingered in the air. My meager belongings lay strewn around me, a pitiful testament to the vulnerability that had been laid bare in the face of danger.

        "Miss von Sterntal?" The words escaped the mysterious man's lips in a gasp of recognition, his hand instinctively rising to cover his mouth as he took in the sight before him. My eyes lifted for the first time, meeting his gaze, and the realization washed over me like a tidal wave.

        "John?" I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Too many thoughts and feelings raced through my mind at once, leaving me reeling in the aftermath of the harrowing ordeal.

        In that moment, as our eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding, the boundaries between us blurred, and I found myself clinging to the unexpected connection that had emerged between us in the midst of chaos. 

 

 

Chapter 3 - Luxury

        John crouched in front of me, his concern etched on his face. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" he asked, his voice gentle yet firm. I shook my head weakly, huddling closer to my knees on the sleeping bag. His eyes scanned the alleyway, taking in the scattered contents of my backpack. "Is this where you've been staying?" he inquired, his tone filled with both curiosity and concern. I nodded silently, feeling a rush of shame at the admission.

        "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. "I'll just gather my things and leave."

        As I started to clumsily gather my belongings and was about to stand up from my spot, I noticed the puddle underneath me and the wet clammy feeling of my pants. I must've wet myself out of fear. My face blushed crimson as another pang of shame overcame me. My pace quickened in an effort to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

        "Felicity, wait," John said as he gently grabbed my arm, preventing me from packing any further. 

        "Feli," I corrected softly, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me as I avoided his gaze. "I like Feli more," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, noticing the genuine concern etched into his expression. He released my arm, realizing he had my attention.

        "Listen, Feli," John began, his eyes holding mine with a mix of gentleness and authority. "I don't know exactly what your deal is, but I can see you're down on your luck. And I'm sure you have nowhere else to go, right?" he continued, his tone soft yet probing. I nodded meekly, feeling a knot form in my stomach as he scratched the stubble on his chin, his gaze sweeping over the scene before us.

        "I don't like intruding," he admitted, and I couldn't help but chuckle softly at his remark, recalling our awkward encounter in the café. "But I can't leave a young girl like you out on the streets like this." I looked down, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over me, making me feel even more vulnerable.

        "How about you come to my place for tonight? I've got a guest room where you can clean up and get some rest." His gaze fell on the puddle underneath me, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

        "Does that sound good?" John asked, his voice tinged with concern. I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options. Despite my apprehension, the thought of a shower and a bed was too tempting to resist. I nodded meekly, realizing I had little choice but to trust him for now. 

        With a sense of gratitude mingled with uncertainty, I allowed John to help me pack up my few belongings. Together, we made our way down the alley towards the street where a car was waiting for him, ready to take me to a place that was entirely unfamiliar yet offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness of the night.
As we settled into the backseat of the car, the driver spoke up from the front. "Good evening, Mr. Harrington. Am I still bringing you back to your place?" he inquired, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

        "Yes, please bring us home, Chuck," John confirmed, his voice carrying a note of weariness.

        The level of wealth where you could afford your own personal driver wasn't foreign to me, but it had been quite a few years since I'd experienced it firsthand. I sighed softly as I slumped back into my seat, feeling the uncomfortable wetness of my pants clinging to me, the exhaustion of the encounter finally catching up with me.

        As we passed through the bustling streets of NYC, my head rested against the cool window, my gaze fixed on the vibrant lights of the nightlife swirling by in a blur of colors and motion. A mix of uncertainty and hope tugged at my mind, a feeling that had become all too familiar to me lately. Amidst the chaos of the city, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for me in this unexpected turn of events.

        We entered the underground garage, bidding farewell to Chuck as he drove off. The dimly lit space felt strangely quiet after the chaos of the city streets. Following John, we made our way to an elevator, and he pressed the topmost button. The realization dawned on me that John's wealth surpassed what I had initially assumed, a notion that left me both impressed and apprehensive.

        As we ascended in the elevator, a sense of awkwardness settled between us, the silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the machinery. Finally, the doors opened, revealing a narrow hallway with just one door at the end. A penthouse, I surmised, my heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

        John opened the door, inviting me into a world I had thought I would never see again.

        "Make yourself at home," John said, leading us through a small entryway into a sprawling living space. My eyes widened in awe as I took in the grandeur of the room. A luxurious couch sat in front of a massive TV atop a faux fireplace, exuding an air of opulence. One wall was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. I couldn't help but grimace as I spotted my parents' skyscraper in the distance, a stark reminder of the world I had left behind.

        An archway led to a spacious kitchen and dining area on one side of the room, while a few steps ascended to a corridor on the other. John guided me down the corridor and opened the first door on his right, revealing the large guest room. A queen-size bed occupied one wall, with a TV mounted opposite and a dresser beneath. In one corner, an en-suite awaited, offering a welcome respite from the chaos of the streets.

        "There's shower gel, towels, and spare toothbrushes. Do you need anything else?" John asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I shook my head, still stunned by the luxury and overwhelmed with gratitude.

        "Alright, I'll let you get cleaned up then," he said, turning to leave before pausing. "Oh, and are you hungry?" My stomach growled involuntarily, betraying my hunger. I was about to decline, not wanting to impose, but John's grin softened my resolve.

        "I'll make some sandwiches. Just join me in the kitchen when you're done," he said, offering a glimmer of warmth in the midst of uncertainty. With that, he left the en-suite, closing the door behind him, leaving me to soak in the surreal reality of my surroundings.

        As the warm water cascaded over me in the shower, washing away the grime and weariness of the night, a sense of clarity began to seep back into my mind. "I guess now I have to at least hear him out on his offer," I mumbled to myself, the words echoing in the solitude of the bathroom.

        Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off and donned a shirt and sweatpants from my backpack, feeling a semblance of comfort return with each familiar garment. With hesitant steps, I made my way towards the kitchen, where John sat at the dining table, enjoying a sandwich. An identical one sat on a plate opposite him, awaiting my arrival.

        I sat down, muttering a quiet "Thank you," before taking a bite of the sandwich, savoring the simple pleasure of a warm meal. 

        As I ate, John began to speak, his voice calm yet determined. "Alright, here's the deal," he started, pausing between bites. "I'll let you stay the night and get some rest, and I'll be gone already when you wake up tomorrow."

        He continued, outlining my options for the following day. "Either you leave before I'm back from work, and I'll leave you alone from now on," he explained, his gaze searching mine for any hint of reaction. "Or you decide to stay and hear out my offer when I come home from work."

        I swallowed my bite of sandwich, considering his words carefully. "Why don't you just tell me about the offer right now?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. But John shook his head, his expression unreadable. 

        "I can't," he replied firmly. "Not yet, at least. But I can tell you tomorrow evening. You're still free to decline once you've heard it, however."

        I nodded in understanding, realizing that there was more to this offer than met the eye. With a sense of anticipation tinged with apprehension, I finished my sandwich, knowing that the following day would bring with it a decision that could change the course of my life.

        "Go and get some rest," John commanded, his tone firm yet not unkind, as he cleared away our plates and brought them to the kitchen. I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine at his authoritative demeanor, but in the face of his generosity, I complied with his request nonetheless.

        As I settled into the plush comfort of the bed, the warmth enveloping me like a gentle embrace, I made a silent vow to myself. I wouldn't let fear or uncertainty hold me back any longer. I would hear him out the next day, whatever his offer may be.

        "I just really, really hope it's nothing sexual," I whispered to myself, the words lingering in the quiet of the room as I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with thoughts of the unknown future that awaited me.

        I woke up the next day, feeling surprisingly refreshed after a restful night's sleep. As I stretched and shook off the remnants of sleep, a sense of vitality surged through me. It had been a while since I had slept so well.

        Venturing out of the guest room, I found myself alone in the spacious apartment. John had already left, as he had promised. I made my way to the living room, drawn by the allure of the sprawling cityscape visible through the window. The sight of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper in the distance stirred a mix of emotions within me, a constant reminder of my past.

        "Make yourself at home," John's words echoed in my mind, and I resolved to do just that. Pushing aside the thoughts of my parents, I strode into the kitchen, where a delicious breakfast awaited me. The aroma of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, making my mouth water in anticipation.

        To my surprise, there was a small note waiting for me on the table. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back at 6. See you then! -J," it read, a simple yet thoughtful gesture. I couldn't help but wonder if John already knew that I would stay to hear him out.

        With gratitude in my heart, I sat down and began to savor the hearty breakfast, allowing myself to indulge in the simple pleasures of the moment, grateful for the warmth and hospitality that John had extended to me.

        As the hours passed by, I found myself unable to shake off the nervous anticipation that gripped me like a vice. Despite my initial intention to relax and enjoy the comforts of John's penthouse, the looming uncertainty of the evening weighed heavily on my mind.

        I tried to distract myself by flipping through channels on the TV, but my attention kept drifting back to the impending conversation with John. What could his offer possibly be? And more importantly, what would it mean for my future?

        With each passing minute, my nerves seemed to intensify, the unknown stretching out before me like an endless abyss. Despite my best efforts to quell my anxieties, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach, reminding me of the high stakes of the decision that awaited me.

        I was sprawled out on the couch, a large glass of juice sitting on the table in front of me when I heard the front door open. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was only 5 pm. Curious, I craned my neck to peer over the back of the couch toward the entryway, where a woman emerged carrying two bags of groceries. Our gazes met, and a moment of surprise passed between us.

        "Oh, hello, miss..." she began, expecting me to fill in the pause with my name.

        "Feli," I replied, offering a small smile. 

        "Okay, Miss Feli, my apologies. I didn't know Mr. Harrington had a guest over," she continued, her tone polite yet curious. I chuckled softly at that.

        "It's just Feli," I clarified, feeling a pang of discomfort at the formalities. "That's short for Felicity."

        She nodded in understanding, her warm smile never faltering. 

        "Who are you?" I questioned, returning the inquiry.

        "Call me Marge," she replied with a friendly smile, radiating a sense of maternal warmth. "I'm here to cook dinner for Mr. Harrington... and you, I guess?" she explained, her tone tinged with uncertainty.

        "I guess so," I replied with a shrug, watching as she excused herself to the kitchen to begin her work. 

        As the minutes ticked by, I found it increasingly difficult to focus on the TV, my nerves getting the better of me. The tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen only served to heighten my anticipation, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.

        Then, at precisely 6:05 pm, the front door swung open once again. "Feli, I'm home," John called out, his voice carrying a sense of warmth and familiarity. I couldn't help but marvel at how confident he seemed that I would stay, a realization that brought a small smile to my lips as our gazes met.

        Despite my lingering nerves, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the sight of him. His warm smile was infectious, filling me with a sense of comfort and reassurance. While uncertainty still loomed on the horizon, the curiosity about his offer outweighed any lingering apprehension.

        I returned his smile, genuinely happy to see him. As he made his way toward me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that had led me here. Whatever lay ahead, I was determined not to miss out on the opportunity that lay before me, embracing the luxury and possibility that surrounded me in John's penthouse.

        Marge emerged from the kitchen just as John grabbed the TV remote and switched off the TV.

        "Did she behave?" he asked, his gaze directed at Marge. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as he spoke over my head about me.

        "Yes, Sir, Miss Feli behaved like an angel," Marge replied with a warm smile, her eyes flickering between John and me. We both chuckled at her formal address using my nickname, but I couldn't help but feel puzzled by their conversation. Why were they discussing my behavior as if I weren't in the room? And why did Marge feel the need to comment on it when we had barely interacted since she arrived?

        "Good to hear," John replied, grinning down at me with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that I had come to detest. 

        "Dinner is served, Sir," Marge announced politely, breaking the momentary silence.

        "Thank you, Marge. You're excused," John replied, and Marge quickly gathered her things and left the penthouse.

        As John and I made our way toward the dining table, I couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had settled over me, a feeling that this dinner would bring with it more than just good food and polite conversation.

        We ate in silence for a while, savoring the delicious meal that Marge had prepared for us. The flavors danced on my tongue, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget about the weight of the impending conversation.

        John broke the silence as he took a sip from his glass of wine, his expression warm and genuine. "I'm glad you decided to stay," he said, his smile reaching his eyes.

        I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words. "Well, the least I could do is hear you out after you've been so nice to me," I mumbled back, my voice barely above a whisper. I took another forkful of the heavenly food, grateful for the distraction it provided from the nervous tension that lingered between us.

        As John returned with two sets of papers and a pen, my heart skipped a beat at the sight. The weight of the moment hit me like a ton of bricks, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Just moments ago, it had all felt like a dream, but now, faced with the official-looking documents in front of me, it was undeniably real.

        He sat down opposite me, presenting one set of papers while holding onto the other. I could feel the tension in the air as he explained, "This is an NDA, a Non-Disclosure Agreement you need to sign. Once you've signed this, I can sue you if you tell anyone about what you're going to hear today. Marge also had to sign one before working for me."

        My throat went dry as I glanced over the paper, knowing full well the gravity of what I was about to agree to. I knew I needed to read it thoroughly before putting pen to paper. Skimming through the document, I confirmed that it was indeed just an NDA, outlining the terms of confidentiality regarding the information I was about to receive. Satisfied that I understood its contents, I took a deep breath and put my signature at the bottom of the page.

        Looking up at John expectantly, I braced myself for whatever revelation awaited me.
As John placed the other set of papers in front of me, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me. But before I could even glance at the documents, he kept his hand on them and locked eyes with me, his gaze warm and sincere.

        "Now that you've signed the NDA, I can tell you about the offer," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of anticipation. My heart hammered in my chest, and I could feel the nervous energy building inside me as I awaited his next words.

        "Long story short: I want you to become my baby for a month," he stated, the words hanging in the air between us like an electric charge. My mind reeled at the unexpectedness of his proposition, and I struggled to comprehend the full implications of what he was suggesting.

[dpzed]

This chapter turned out a bit short, but I feel like it's a very important breakpoint. The contract and the conditions surrounding it are inspired by two different stories btw. One of which should be pretty obvious for most people here, while the other story inspiring this should be well-known to any German readers.

 

Chapter 4 - Contract

        His proposition hung in the air, a baffling mix of confusion and curiosity swirling within me. I met his gaze, my eyebrow arching in disbelief as I processed his words. Before I could articulate my myriad of questions, he pressed on, his tone earnest yet slightly pleading for understanding.

        "Let me explain, but hear me out okay?" he requested, his eyes searching mine for consent before delving into his peculiar proposal. I acknowledged it with a nod.

        "It's basically an acting job. I want you to pretend to be my baby. Well, 'baby' might not be the perfect term, but it's the closest approximation. You'll live with me, call me Daddy, and follow my instructions, which will include tasks like wearing diapers, dressing as I dictate, using pacifiers, and even being fed by me, among other things. And in return, I'll ensure all your needs are taken care of for a month. Plus, I'll compensate you generously for your cooperation."

        His words lingered in the air, sinking into my mind as I struggled to comprehend the surreal scenario unfolding before me. "That explains the NDA," I murmured to myself, connecting the dots before the pressing questions surged forth.

        "Wait..." the most pressing question formed in my mind, my tone firm as I made my standpoint clear. "Is this some sort of fetish thing? I don't want to do anything sexual!" I voiced my concern, adamant about establishing boundaries from the outset. He chuckled lightly at my innocence before his expression turned sincere again, recognizing the gravity of this clarification.

        "Well, sort of..." he began, addressing my inquiry with candor. "It's certainly a fetish and sexual for some people. But it's not at all sexual for me. In fact, the contract in front of you clearly states that it does not involve any sexual acts. We'll go through it together in a second," he reassured me, his tone steady and reassuring. 

        A wave of relief washed over me as I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, grateful that my biggest fear hadn't materialized.

        "So... what's in it for you then?" I questioned him, my gaze tinged with suspicion as uncertainty lingered in my mind. I remained unsure of what to make of his proposition. 

        "It's about taking care of someone. But also about control," he explained, his response sounding somewhat rehearsed, suggesting he expected such questions. "You see, it's about asserting and surrendering control. A power play of sorts," he continued, delving deeper into his explanation.

        His words resonated, albeit with a hint of ambiguity, leaving me to ponder the complexities of his motives. The notion of control, both asserting and relinquishing it, added a layer of intricacy to the situation, one that I struggled to fully grasp.

        "So it's like BDSM? Are you going to hurt me?" I asked, my concern evident in my tone. He raised an eyebrow at my question, his sincerity shining through his eyes.

        "You know about that? And no, I will not hurt you. The contract also covers that," he reassured me, his words calming my apprehension. 

        "Yeah, kind of... I mean, I know what it is but that's about it. You know, I spend most of my time on the internet. You learn about all kinds of stuff on there," I replied, feeling a slight blush creeping onto my cheeks but relieved that his intentions didn't involve such elements. He chuckled at my response, breaking the tension with his amusement.

        We held each other's gaze for a moment, the silence stretching before he broke it, preventing any awkwardness from settling in. "Anyway, are you following me so far? Do you have any other questions?" he inquired, prompting me to consider.

        As I pondered, something crucial struck me. "What about the payment?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. 

        His grin widened before he responded, his words deliberate as he made sure I grasped their significance. "I will pay you $1000 cash upfront every week for four weeks, and after four weeks, I will pay you another $10,000 on top," he explained clearly, ensuring I understood the terms. 

        I swallowed hard at that, the gravity of his offer sinking in. Unsure if I had misunderstood, I found myself at a loss for words. This was tempting. Incredibly tempting. I was left speechless, grappling with the weight of the decision before me.

        He allowed his words to linger for a moment, observing my reaction closely before proceeding. "Let's go over the contract, shall we?" he suggested, awaiting my nod of agreement before we shifted our focus to the document in front of me. With a pen in hand, he pointed out each term and condition meticulously.

        Everything he had mentioned earlier was there, clearly outlined in black ink on white paper. However, as we delved deeper, I noticed additional details, such as the conditions for terminating the contract. The gravity of the agreement began to sink in as we reviewed each clause, solidifying the reality of what I was considering.

        "If at any point you decide this is too much for you and you don't want to do this anymore, you can back out of the contract. You'll keep the money you've received so far, but you won't get the $10,000 for completing the four weeks. The same goes if you refuse to cooperate and don't follow my orders," he clarified, ensuring I understood the implications.

        "But there's a similar condition for me as well. If I decide that I don't want to continue, I can terminate the contract and then have to pay you the remaining money immediately. That's $14,000 in total. If I violate the terms of the contract, such as intentionally hurting you or engaging in any sexual acts, the contract becomes void immediately. In that case, I'll owe you the full amount plus an additional $10,000 compensation. That would be $24,000 in total," he elaborated, emphasizing the importance of these clauses.

        I gulped at the weight of his words as he continued. "With that being said, this is just for your safety and reassurance. I promise I will not hurt you or engage in anything sexual," he reassured me earnestly, his gaze warm and sincere as I sought reassurance in his eyes.

        Despite my nerves and lingering uncertainty, the allure of the money was undeniable. I wrestled with conflicting emotions, but his assurances and the promise of financial stability beckoned to me, stirring a sense of tentative resolve.

        We covered a few more clauses, such as the provision for one free day a week where I could do as I pleased. But in truth, those details felt insignificant as I had already made up my mind. As we neared the end of the contract, he watched me closely, awaiting my response.

        Taking a moment to let the gravity of my decision sink in, I remained silent. Then, without uttering a word, I reached for the pen and signed my name beneath the contract. As I finished the final stroke, he slid an envelope in front of me. Curious, I peeked inside to find $1000 in cash.

        Looking up at him, I met his wide smile with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "When do we start?" I asked, the anticipation evident in my voice.

        "Tomorrow morning," he replied, his tone decisive. "I'll be working from home for a few days to help you get settled in. Put that envelope in your backpack in your room. You won't have access to that room for one week. Now go get some rest. I'll wake you up in the morning."

        With a nod, I made my way toward the guestroom. But before I could leave the kitchen, he stopped me. "Oh, and Feli," he called, drawing my attention once more. I turned to meet his gaze.

        "Thank you. You won't regret this, I promise. Good night," he said warmly, his smile genuine. I returned the sentiment with a smile of my own. "Good night," I replied before turning and heading toward the guestroom.

        But before I reached it, I paused in front of the familiar window. Peering out at the bustling city below, I let my gaze drift upward, knowing what I would see. My eyes settled on my parents' skyscraper in the distance, its imposing silhouette softened by the darkness of night. It no longer held power over me. This marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life, where I would finally seize control, ironically by relinquishing it all. 

        As I shifted my gaze to the stars above, a sense of peace washed over me. Though I didn’t know what my life would be like for the next month, or even after that, in that moment, I felt assured that I was exactly where I needed to be.

        A sudden cough broke the silence, and I glanced to my side to find John watching me from the kitchen, still seated in the same spot. He had been observing me the entire time. Blushing, I averted my eyes, turned around, and hurried to the guestroom, hearing his chuckle echo behind me as I went.

[dpzed]

So it begins...

 

Chapter 5 - Rules

        I yawned and stretched as I heard a gentle knock on the door, pulling me from the depths of sleep. Nestled in the warmth of the bed, I blinked sleepily, taking in the plush surroundings of the guestroom in John's penthouse. The soft sheets cocooned me, and the oversized pillows cradled my back as I sat up. "I could definitely get used to this," I mumbled to myself, my fingers raking through my messy hair as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

        John's entrance interrupted my sleepy reverie, his presence startling me, causing a flutter of surprise in my chest. "Good morning, Feli," he greeted me, his lips curved into a teasing smile. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness at his sudden appearance. "Don't give me that look," he chuckled. "It's your first day on the job, baby," he added, his tone playful as he emphasized the word "baby," sending a jolt of realization through me as memories of our conversation from the previous night flooded my mind.

        "Good morning, John," I greeted him, my voice a tad shaky as I tried to muster up some confidence, my gaze meeting his. 

        His stern correction sent a shiver down my spine. "It's 'Daddy' for you," he reminded me firmly, though his tone softened with reassurance. "But don't worry about that. We haven't gone over your rules yet anyway," he added, his words leaving me feeling a bit flustered. Clutching the blanket tightly around me, I swallowed hard, a faint blush creeping onto my cheeks.

        Still curled up on the bed, I watched as he spoke, his commanding presence leaving me feeling both nervous and intrigued. "Go and take a shower," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll begin once you're done." 

        With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. I let out a sigh of mixed emotions as I relaxed my grip on the blanket, feeling a sense of anticipation settling over me. "So it begins," I whispered to myself, the weight of the day ahead sinking in as I slowly rose from the bed and made my way toward the en-suite bathroom.

        Emerging from the en-suite, fresh from my morning routine of multitasking tooth brushing and toilet time - for some reason I always have to pee when brushing my teeth - followed by a shower, I found John seated on the already neatly made bed, his gaze fixed on me as I approached. With my wet black hair clinging to my shoulders and just a towel wrapped around me, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. His eyes trailed over me, a hint of admiration flickering within them, making me squirm slightly under his intense gaze.

        As I slowly came closer to him, I noticed the items he had laid out beside him on the bed, my apprehension mounting.

        "What's that?" I asked with apprehension as I gestured towards the items. 

        John's eyes followed my direction and fell on the items as he took them in his hand and showed them to me. "Well, this is a diaper, obviously," he began holding up a folded up white rectangle which looked to be made out of some kind of plastic, but it did look kind of fluffy "and this is baby powder to prevent rashes," he continued. I gulped.

        "Are you.." I began asking nervously but he interrupted me. 

        "Well yes, I'm going to change you. This is what all this is about after all, isn't it?" I nodded at that but swallowed hard. I hadn't thought this far.

        "But I.." I began stammering, "But you..." I swallowed again, not finding the words to the turmoil in my head.

        "But I will see you naked? Is this what you're worried about?" He finished my sentence for me and I nodded, blushing hard. 

        He sighed and his shoulders slumped, he looked at the ground for a moment thinking about what to say next. He looked at me with warm but kind of defeated looking eyes.

        "Alright here," he started, holding out the items for me "you can use the en-suite." My eyes lit up at the prospect of doing it myself. 

        I took the items from him, but as I was about to go to the bathroom, he stopped me in my tracks with a stern voice, my back still facing him.

        "But this is the only time I will allow you to do this yourself" he said firmly "remember. We have a contract!" I swallowed hard at the last words, realizing I'm on thin ice already. 

        I nodded without even looking at him before continuing my way to the en-suite.

        Closing the bathroom door behind me, I let out a sigh, scolding myself for the nerves that plagued me. I really wanted to do what he wanted of me, but it was just so difficult for me. Nobody had seen me naked for over 10 years. I glanced down at the items in my hand, tracing my fingers over the plastic of the diaper. "I need to do this," I muttered to myself, determination simmering within me. "This is my chance to change my life. I can't mess this up before it even starts."

        With newfound resolve, I unfolded the diaper and held it out in front of me, scrutinizing it carefully. Turning it around several times, I ensured I had the orientation correct before laying it out on the heated bathroom tiles. Lowering myself onto it, I was grateful for the warmth seeping through the floor. Lying there on the open diaper, I contemplated the baby powder, deciding it wasn't necessary for now.

        Bringing the front of the diaper up between my legs, I adjusted it awkwardly before clumsily fastening the tapes into place. Standing back up, I couldn't help but feel the odd sensation of the padding between my legs, both strange and oddly comforting. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I was surprised by the transformation. Despite being 18, I always thought I looked 15 when standing naked in front of a mirror. Yet, with just this one item around my waist, I was sure I looked more like 10 this time.

        Glancing at my chest, I realized I had nothing to cover it with, but the thought of John seeing my bare chest didn't bother me as much as I expected. There wasn't much to see there anyway. Taking a deep breath, I summoned my courage and stepped out of the bathroom once more, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

        John awaited me on the bed once again, surrounded by a collection of clothes, leaving me curious about their origin. "Come here," he directed, prompting me to cautiously approach him, stopping just out of reach.

        "Come on," he urged gently, motioning for me to step closer. "I won't take it off, I promise, but I need to adjust it a little," he assured me,and I took one more step towards him.

        "You do realize that I will have to see you naked sooner or later anyway, right?" he inquired, his tone firm yet understanding, as he deftly adjusted the diaper's tapes for a better fit. Nervously, I nodded, aware of the inevitability despite my unpreparedness. I did know that. I just wasn't ready for it yet.

        "Will this be a problem next time?" he pressed, his gaze steady. Determined, I shook my head, resolving to be stronger next time. 

        "Okay, good," he acknowledged before drawing my attention to the clothing beside him.

        "I've got a few different dresses here,” he began as he gestured to the assortment of dresses next to him, “I didn't know your size, so I thought we'd just try some on." I looked them over. They were mostly plain in dark pastel colors, but with a somewhat childish design.

        "Arms up," he instructed, and I complied, allowing him to try each dress on me one by one. They were all too big for me, leaving me even more curious about their origin.

        "Why do you have so many dresses that don't even fit me?" I pondered aloud, caught off guard by my own words. John chuckled at my question but brushed it off quickly. "Don't worry about it. You will find out soon enough," he replied cryptically, leaving me to raise an eyebrow at him before dropping the subject.

        The last dress he placed on me was the smallest of the bunch. It was a dark violet party dress, the hue reminiscent of a warm summer night, with short sleeves, a high neckline, and a full skirt adorned with small ruffles at the hem. Scattered across the soft mesh of the sleeves and skirt were tiny stars sewn into the fabric. It was enchanting, though it undeniably accentuated my youthful appearance, especially since it was still a tad too big for my frame.

        As I looked down at myself, admiring the stars sprinkled across the dress, a small smile tugged at my lips. "You really like stars, don't you?" John chuckled softly, observing my fascination with the garment. Blushing slightly, I nodded meekly, feeling a warmth spread through me at his observation.

        With the ordeal of trying on dresses finally over, he pulled some white tights up my legs, fitting them snugly over my diaper and keeping it firmly in place. It felt strange, but I trusted his judgment as he adjusted my dress slightly. Surveying me with a satisfied expression, he spoke up again.

        "Alright, kneel down on the floor in front of me, back towards me," he commanded once more in that stern tone of voice, and I complied without hesitation. I settled my back against the side of the bed between his legs as he began brushing my hair slowly and tenderly.

        Closing my eyes slowly, I allowed myself to relax, melting into the soothing touch of his hand. It was surprisingly comforting, and I found myself drifting into a state of tranquility. After a while, he started braiding my hair, his gentle fingers working through the strands with a practiced ease. His soft touch massaged my scalp, sending a wave of contentment through me.

        I sighed in contentment, feeling completely at ease in his presence. He chuckled softly, but this time, I didn't mind. I was fully relaxed, savoring this rare moment of peace.

        "Alright, we're done," he suddenly announced, startling me out of my daze. I hadn't realized how much time had passed. Taking my hand, he helped me back to my feet and led me into the en-suite. Standing me in front of the mirror, he positioned himself behind me, his hands resting firmly on my shoulders as we both observed my reflection.

        "What do you think?" he asked enthusiastically, a twinkle in his eyes. But I was still mesmerized by what I saw before me. 

        There I stood, but I didn't recognize myself. My eyes sparkled with a deep blue hue, my skin a healthy pale, and my black hair meticulously braided into two elegant French braids, leaving me to wonder where he learned such a skill. And my dress, the dark purple fabric reminiscent of a starry night sky, left me in awe.

        "I- I- I look like I'm 10," I began stammering, still transfixed by my own reflection. 

        His warm gaze searched for mine, locking eyes with me before he spoke again. "Yes. Yes, you do. But most importantly, you look beautiful," his voice radiating reassurance.

        I looked back at myself, the word "beautiful" echoing in my mind. It was a word I hadn't heard in years, at least not in regards to me. "Beautiful," I whispered, the word hanging in the air, filling me with a sense of wonder and newfound confidence, as a sole tear escaped my eyes.

        We were both lost in my reflection when suddenly my stomach started growling, demanding attention, startling us both. I furrowed my brows as I stared at it, disappointed that it had outed me like that. But John just chuckled, his warm laughter filling the room. "Sounds like my baby is hungry. I think it's time to get some breakfast," he said, looking into my eyes through the mirror as I nodded in agreement.

        Taking my hand, he led me out of the guestroom. After closing the door behind us, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, locking the door with a decisive click. I looked at him with wide eyes, surprised by his action, and he must've sensed my question as he immediately started explaining himself.

        "This room is off-limits for now," he clarified, his voice reassuring. "I will unlock it in a week when you have your day off." With that settled, he grabbed my hand again and led me towards the kitchen, leaving my lingering question unanswered for now.

        As we walked, I couldn't help but wonder where I would be sleeping, but with how meticulously he had planned everything so far, I trusted that he would have a solution for that when the time came. 

        As we approached the kitchen, the sounds of bustling activity and the enticing aroma of breakfast grew stronger, causing my nerves to kick in. I instinctively tightened my grip on John's hand, feeling a wave of apprehension wash over me. I hadn't expected anyone else to be here, and I certainly hadn't anticipated being seen like this, at least not so soon.

        Upon entering the kitchen, I was met with Marge's warm smile as she busied herself cooking breakfast. "Good morning, Miss Feli," she greeted me cheerfully. "I must say, you look very pretty today," she added, her compliment catching me off guard. Though mortified by her observation, a small part of me couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at being called pretty.

        Sensing my nervousness, John stepped in to address the situation. "I told you yesterday that Marge signed an NDA too when she began working for me, right?" he asked me, and I nodded, albeit still a bit nervously. It dawned on me that this meant Marge also knew the reason why I was here in the first place.

        John led us to the dining table and I felt the cushion of the diaper beneath me as I settled into the chair. It was a strange sensation, but not uncomfortable. Surprisingly, I didn't mind it at all. After all, I was being handsomely compensated for this experience, even if it was a bit unconventional.

        Shortly after we were seated, Marge brought us some drinks. She placed a cup of coffee in front of John and a sippy cup in front of me. "Thank you, Marge," John remarked graciously, while I stared at the unusual beverage container in front of me with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

        John chuckled at my expression. "That's all part of the deal," he explained, his tone reassuring. "Go on, take a sip," he commanded, and I nodded hesitantly. Picking up the sippy cup, I brought it to my lips, carefully taking the first sip. To my delight, it was orange juice. It felt a bit odd drinking from the sippy cup at first, but I quickly adapted to the experience. As I took another sip, I realized that I could live with this arrangement.

        As we waited for Marge to finish preparing breakfast, my mind buzzed with countless questions, pondering what else was in store for me. John watched me carefully, his eyes scanning for any hint of reaction. Eventually, he broke the silence, outlining the immediate plan.

        "Once we're done with breakfast, I'll have you write down your rules," he stated, pausing for my acknowledgment. 

        "Rules?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

        "Yes, rules. They will help you to know how to behave. They're not part of the contract because I may decide to adjust them over time," he explained, letting his words sink in. Instantly, I grasped the implications of them not being part of the contract.

        "What happens if I break them?" I asked nervously, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

        "Well, that depends on the rule and the severity of the breach, but I will punish you as I see fit," he replied matter-of-factly, causing me to swallow hard at the mention of punishment.

        Seeing the fear in my eyes, John hastened to reassure me. "Don't worry, I will not hurt you. I promised you that already. Legally, I'm not even allowed to," he reassured, easing my nerves slightly. "We will agree on the punishments together beforehand. You will write them down too. But even if I will not hurt you, they won't be pleasant either," he added, his words sending a shiver down my spine. The thought of being punished filled me with apprehension, and I gulped at the realization that I didn't want to experience it.

        Shortly after our discussion, breakfast was served. A plastic plate adorned with Disney princesses was placed in front of me, featuring a pancake already cut into pieces. Beside it, Marge set a plastic fork with a peculiar handle, resembling the ones small children use. Glancing over at John's plate, I noticed his pancakes were still intact, served on a normal plate with a regular fork and knife. While I understood the reasoning behind my setup, it still felt odd to witness.

        As I reached for the syrup in the middle of the table, John beat me to it, grabbing it before I could. I watched with a small pout as he poured syrup onto my pancake first, followed by his own. He chuckled at my expression, causing my pout to quickly morph into a blush. We ate in comfortable silence, savoring the delicious pancakes prepared by Marge. She truly was a talented cook.

        Once the pancakes had disappeared and Marge had cleared the table, I took the last sips of orange juice from my sippy cup, setting it down on the table with a contented sigh. John observed me closely as he sipped his coffee, chuckling again at my actions. He grabbed a napkin and reached across the table to wipe off my face and fingers.

        Bewilderment washed over me as he did so; I hadn't even realized that I had made a mess. After he finished, he held up the napkin for me to see, revealing stains of syrup all over it. My face flushed crimson with embarrassment, realizing my inadvertent clumsiness.

        Once I was cleaned up and the embarrassment subsided, John stood up from the table and grabbed my sippy cup. I watched him as he swiftly rinsed it out and then went to the fridge, refilling it with apple juice. He returned to me and handed me the sippy cup, prompting me to rise from my chair. The movement reminded me of the diaper beneath my dress, its crinkle audible as I stood up.

        "Alright then, are you ready for your rules?" John inquired, his gaze fixed on me as I nodded nervously. He guided me through the archway of the kitchen into the living room, where he instructed me to sit down on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. "Wait here, I'll be right back," he instructed before disappearing into the corridor.

        Curiously, I watched him go, and within moments, he returned with a sheet of paper and some crayons, placing them on the table in front of me before taking a seat behind me on the couch.

        "So," John began, his voice steady, "I will dictate the rules to you, and you will write them down." I nodded, focusing on the paper as I reached for the crayons. It had been a while since I had used crayons. Scanning through the colors, I instinctively looked for a black one out of habit, but to my surprise, there were only a bunch of vibrant hues. Opting for a purple crayon instead, as it was the darkest shade of the ones available to me, I readied myself to receive his instructions.

        "Start with the title. Write 'Feli's Rules' at the top," John directed, and I complied, carefully tracing the letters onto the paper. As I poised the purple crayon over the next line, preparing to jot down the rules, he interrupted me.

        "How about you switch up the colors for each rule? It'll make it more fun," he suggested. I shrugged, not quite understanding what could be fun about writing down rules, but I followed his suggestion nonetheless. Setting aside the purple crayon, I picked up a blue one, waiting for him to continue.

        "Rule 1," John began, dictating the first rule, "I will always call Daddy 'Daddy' as long as nobody who doesn't already know is around." I carefully transcribed his words onto the paper, using the blue crayon for this rule.

        After jotting it down, I tilted my head back slightly to catch a glimpse of his face upside down. "How do I know who already knows about it?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued. He chuckled at my antics and gently moved my head back into position before responding.

        "If you're not sure, just call me John or Mr. Harrington. I won't punish you if you didn't know better," he clarified. I nodded in understanding. "Okay, Daddy," I replied tentatively, testing out the unfamiliar word on my tongue. I had never addressed someone as 'Daddy' before. My father always insisted on being called 'Father' or 'Sir,' sometimes even 'Mr. von Sterntal.' The thought made me cringe as I grabbed the light blue crayon and prepared to continue writing.

        "Rule 2," John continued, his voice firm, "I will always do as Daddy says." I transcribed the rule onto the paper with careful strokes. It wasn't surprising to see a rule like this, considering it was technically already outlined in the contract.

        As I wrote, it dawned on me that having this rule separate from the contract meant that John —Daddy, I corrected myself mentally— had the discretion to choose whether to use this rule or the contract if I refuse to follow his orders. While it still meant I was at his mercy, the realization brought a sense of relief. He could decide either way. However, I had no intention of breaking the rules anyway, so the distinction didn't bother me much.

        "Rule 3," he continued, his hand gently petting my head as he spoke, a gesture that I surprisingly found comforting. "No cursing." I transcribed this rule onto the paper with a green crayon this time. It seemed straightforward enough; I didn't curse much to begin with, so following this rule wouldn't be a challenge.

        As I wrote, I couldn't help but appreciate the warmth of his touch, a subtle reassurance amidst the process of establishing these rules. It felt oddly comforting, anchoring me in the moment despite the weight of the situation. With the rule written down, I set the crayon aside and picked up a yellow one instead. Embracing his touch, I waited for the next rule.

        "Rule 4," he continued, his voice gentle yet firm, "If Daddy puts my paci in my mouth, I'm not allowed to talk until he takes it out again." As he spoke, I titled my head back again to meet his gaze, seeking clarification. "My paci?" I queried, but instead of responding, he placed a pacifier between my lips.

        A moment of realization washed over me as I understood the purpose behind this rule. "Oh," I mumbled through the pacifier, the words muffled by its presence. It seemed he had used the pacifier as a demonstration rather than enforcing the rule immediately. Shortly after, he removed it from my mouth and set it on the table beside the crayons.

        Gazing at the pacifier, I observed its color, a matching shade of purple to my dress, adorned with a delicate white star on the front. I liked that.

        I quickly jotted down the rule, swapping my crayon for an orange one in anticipation of his next directive. 

        "And finally, Rule 5," he dictated, his tone steady, "I will eat what Daddy gives me." I obediently transcribed the rule onto the paper. While I didn't quite understand the necessity of this rule, given that I wasn't a picky eater, I wrote it down nonetheless. Easy rules were less likely to be broken, after all.

        As I finished writing the last rule, I felt a growing discomfort in my bladder, signaling the need to use the bathroom soon. 

        "Daddy," I began, addressing him tentatively, "I need to pee." 

        However, he simply chuckled in response, leaving me puzzled by his reaction.

[zzzz50]

Just have to wonder, since John seemed to know her full name, has this all been set up by her parents? 

[dpzed]

15 hours ago, zzzz50 said:

Just have to wonder, since John seemed to know her full name, has this all been set up by her parents? 

Interesting assumption. I will tell as much as that's not an oversight and the reason will be revealed at some point.

 

This next chapter was a difficult one. ChatGPT did not cooperate at all right from the beginning so I switched to Gemini instead, but even Gemini struggled with some of the scene in here, complaining about power dynamics, sexual content and the triggering potential of the word "diaper" for some weird reason, even after I reassured it multiple times that the relationship is consensual between two adults, that it was non-sexual and that the target audience does in fact not get triggered by a visual description of diapers. Well at least I could argue with Gemini and get some output from it, even if I had to edit the more explicit descriptions back in manually afterwards, while ChatGPT simply refused to give me any output.

Since this chapter was written by Gemini and not ChatGPT, some of the wordings are a bit different. I tried to match the style as closely as I could, but Gemini is a bit more creative compared to ChatGPT, which I actually like. I should've tried it out sooner, it's less repetitive. The only downside with Gemini is that I have to keep reminding it to stick close to the plot I'm providing. It kept changing or adding details I didn't want.

 

Anyways, here's the chapter in question. I would love some feedback on the style compared to the previous chapters. Is it even noticable?

 

Chapter 6 - Punishment

        "Daddy, I need to pee," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising panic. 

        John chuckled, sending shivers down my spine. "Then just let go," he said, his voice playful.

        I whipped my head around, eyebrows raised in suspicion. "What do you mean?" I asked, apprehension clear in my eyes. 

        "You're wearing a diaper, baby," he replied, a mischievous grin spreading across his face despite sensing my discomfort. I swallowed hard, fidgeting on the floor as the urge to use the bathroom intensified. Did he expect me to use the diaper? I mentally facepalmed myself for not thinking this through once again. 

        "But..." I stammered, "can't I just go to the bathroom?"

        His voice turned stern. "No, baby. This is part of the deal. I expect you to use the diaper. Must I remind you of the contract again?"

        The word "contract" sent a whimper escaping my lips. I hadn't expected him to use this against me so soon. My gaze dropped to the floor, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. I desperately wanted to please him, to follow his every order,  but the idea of wetting myself on purpose filled me with disgust. 

        "Please, Daddy," I whimpered again, my voice trembling. My cheeks burned a fiery red, and I couldn't meet his eyes.

        He watched me squirm for a moment before letting out a sigh. I looked up, only to see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. I flinched, not wanting to disappoint him, feeling like I was failing not only him but also myself. If I couldn't even handle this simple request, how could I fulfill my part of the agreement?

        "Alright, fine," he said finally. "But this is the only time and you’ll be punished later. Understand?"

        I nodded immediately, relief flooding my system. A bathroom break, for now. Punishment later, well, that was a whole other story. He reached out, his touch sending a slight jolt through me, and helped me up. He led me towards a guest restroom located near the entrance hallway. 

        I ran inside the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door. Thankfully, John didn't follow me inside. I yanked down my white tights and ripped the diaper off in a hurry, tossing it onto the floor before collapsing onto the toilet seat with a sigh. 

        Relief flooded me, but it was quickly replaced by a dull ache of disappointment. Disappointment in myself. Tears welled up in my eyes, tracing hot paths down my cheeks. How pathetic was I, that I couldn't even follow such a simple rule? I felt like shrinking into the ground, disappearing completely. But John was waiting outside, and I couldn't just hide forever. Even if I failed him, I had to face him. Sniffling back tears, I wiped myself down, pulled my tights back up, and shuffled out of the bathroom. 

        John stood by the door, arms crossed. I stopped in front of him, eyes glued to the floor, the crumpled diaper clutched in my trembling hands. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I mumbled, voice thick with tears.

        "Look at me, baby," he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind. I hesitantly lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes. The sternness had softened, replaced by a mix of disappointment and something else, maybe concern? Compassion? He reached out a hand, and I flinched instinctively. But he just used it to gently wipe a stray tear from my cheek.

        "It's alright, baby," he said softly. "I know you tried. Just promise me you'll try harder next time, okay?"

        I nodded meekly, a fresh sniffle escaping my nose. "I promise," I choked out. 

        He took the ripped up diaper from my hand and I followed him back to the living room. He settled me down on the floor again, gesturing towards the coffee table. "Let's add another rule," he announced, his voice firm but not unkind. I grabbed a red crayon in apprehension. I suspected what rule he was going to add.

        "Rule number six," he began, his gaze meeting mine. My breath hitched slightly as I braced myself for the inevitable. "When Daddy puts me in a diaper, I will use it."  I let out a soft sigh, a mixture of nervousness and hesitant acceptance swirling within me. As I wrote down the rule, he disappeared into the hallway, returning moments later with a new diaper and baby powder.

        He met my eyes, a question hanging in the air. "Are you going to let me diaper you this time?" His voice was firm, but held a hint of warmth. It was a question but I knew that there was only one answer to it. I was already on strike two on the first day and the alternative would involve me stepping back from the contract. Yet, a sliver of hope flickered within me, a chance to prove myself.

        With a deep breath, I offered a hesitant nod and stood in front of him. He gently lifted the hem of my dress, his movements deliberate and controlled. My breath hitched as he carefully lowered my tights, exposing my bare lower body. A blush crept up my neck, a mixture of nervousness and an unfamiliar vulnerability. He sighed at the sight, but I didn't understand why.

        He knelt before me, his gaze softening. "Lay down" he commanded and I did as I was told. He reached for the diaper, put it under me and applied a light dusting of powder with a practiced touch. The sensation was strange, yet oddly comforting, reminding me of childhood days of being cared for.

        Feeling a pang of self-consciousness, I squeezed my eyes shut, battling a rising tide of warmth in my cheeks. "We need to shave you later" he remarked matter-of-factly as his fingers brushed through my pubic hair. The touch was gentle, devoid of any sexual undertones.

        With surprising efficiency, he secured the diaper, this time ensuring a snug fit. "There you go," he announced, a firm tone in his voice as he patted the front. "This one I expect to be used."

        I nodded in response, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of accomplishment swirling within me. He helped me back up and pulled the tights over the diaper again before adjusting my dress back into place.

        The shadow of punishment still lingered, but a newfound determination flickered within me. This wasn't so bad.

        We settled back at the coffee table, my usual spot being the plush carpet in front of it while John took the couch behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I took a comforting sip of apple juice from my sippy cup, as I prepared myself for what was to come.

        "Now, Feli," he began clearly, "it's time to agree on some punishments for when you break your rules." He made sure I was following, his voice leaving no room for misinterpretation. 

        He reached over me, replacing the paper with my rules with a blank one. "Start with the title again," he instructed, "write 'Feli's Punishments' at the top."  I grabbed the purple crayon, now having cycled through all the colors, and did as Instructed.

        "Alright, let's see," he began, pondering for a moment. "I think appropriate punishments for breaking the rules could be timeouts, writing lines, early bedtimes…" He paused, then added with a hint of amusement, "pacifier time and taking away your stuffies."

        He waited for my reaction, gauging my agreement. I nodded silently, picking up a new crayon and starting to list the punishments on the paper. At the word "stuffies," I stopped writing and tilted my head back to look at him with a questioning expression.

        "Stuffies?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

        He chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm. "Yes, stuffies. I'll show them to you later," he explained and I nodded in acknowledgment.

        Relief washed over me as I finished the list. These punishments weren't so bad after all. I let out a small sigh, the tension easing from my shoulders. 

        With the list of punishments finalized, John helped me back up and gathered both sheets of paper. "Alright," he began, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice, "now that we've settled this, I think this little girl still needs a punishment."

        My breath hitched. I'd completely forgotten about that part of the deal. "Let's see," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I think a timeout would be appropriate."

        He led me to a specific corner of the room, the plush carpet offering little comfort compared to the racing thoughts in my head. "Put your nose in the corner and be quiet," he instructed, his voice firm but not unkind. "Don't move until I tell you to."

        I obeyed without protest, sinking to the floor with a resigned sigh. Sitting there facing the wall, I mulled over the situation. Punishment was a foreign concept to me, something I'd never experienced before. There had never been a need for it, at least not that I could remember.

        A wince escaped my lips as the weight of my actions settled in.  Being punished on day one was certainly not what I'd envisioned. Yet, a strange sense of relief washed over me knowing he hadn't dismissed our agreement.  

        The real reason for my discomfort, however, wasn't the timeout itself. It was the looming diaper situation. The very idea sent shivers down my spine.  A helpless whimper escaped my lips as I realized I'd need to use the one I was wearing sooner or later.

        Unsure of John's whereabouts - was he still here? Had he left the room? - time seemed to lose all meaning. Five minutes or an eternity, it all felt the same trapped in this corner, lost in a spiral of thoughts.  The longer I stood there, the more my mind fixated on how much I'd already failed Daddy, a sense of heavy disappointment settling in my stomach. 

        "Alright," John's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, "ten minutes are up. You can turn around now."

        He approached me, his footsteps echoing slightly in the vast living room. I slowly turned, keeping my gaze downcast.  "Did you understand your lesson?" he inquired, his voice firm but not unkind.

        I mumbled a small, "Yes Daddy," my face burning with a mixture of shame and a strange fluttering in my chest. "I'm sorry. Next time I will use my diaper, I promise." A tear escaped, tracing a warm path down my cheek.

        John's expression softened as he noticed the tear. He gently cupped my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. "I believe you, baby," he said warmly, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "No more tears. You did your punishment, you don't have to feel guilty anymore."

        His words felt strangely comforting despite the awkwardness of the situation.  I felt incredibly small and vulnerable under his gaze, a mix of fear and something else, something unfamiliar, swirling in my stomach.

        "Now, come on," he said, his voice pulling me back to the present. "I want to show you something."  He reached down, gently grasping my hand.  My head bobbed in a silent nod, the last sniffles escaping me as I allowed him to lead me away from the corner.

[dpzed]

Chapter 7 - Desperation

        John grabbed my sippy cup as he was leading me through the living room and into the kitchen. He pointed towards the fridge. There, hanging on the door, were the lists I'd painstakingly created: my rules and the dreaded punishments. 

        As John opened the fridge to grab the juice, I stood on the opposite side, inspecting the colorful charts. Curiosity piqued, I tilted my head to the side. "It's... a rainbow," I mumbled to myself.

        "What's a rainbow?" John asked, filling my sippy cup. 

        I pointed at the chart. "My rules," I mumbled back. 

        John closed the fridge door and peered at the display, tilting his head to match mine. "Huh, you're right," he conceded. "But it's upside down," he remarked with a hint of amusement. 

        "I guess," I mumbled, surprised by my own choice of colors. "I didn't even notice while writing it." 

        “Anyway,” John continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "With the rules hanging right here, you can always check them whenever you need to." I nodded meekly, a blush creeping up my neck. This meant no more excuses – the expectations were plastered on the fridge for all to see.

        He handed me back the full sippy cup, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. The extra juice was intentional I suspected. John glanced at the microwave clock, the digital display flashing 10:00 AM. Only two hours awake, yet it felt like a lifetime had squeezed by. As I replayed the morning's events in my head, John's voice filled the space again.

        "I need to get some work done," he explained. "Didn't take the day off, but I'll be working from home today." I nodded, unsure what this meant for me.

        Following him back through the living room, my sippy cup felt heavy in my hand.  We went up the few steps into the corridor, our footsteps echoing softly beneath our feet. Besides the guest room door, three others lined the corridor. Two faced each other, with a final one tucked away at the end. We stopped at the leftmost door, revealing John's home office.

        A massive bookshelf immediately caught my eye, spanning the entire left wall.  A quick scan revealed a sea of law-related titles, exactly as expected.  The back wall boasted another floor-to-ceiling window, offering a familiar view of my parents' skyscraper in the distance. A slight wince escaped my lips, but it faded quickly. The sting was duller now, though the sight still bothered me. A soft sigh left my lips as John, seemingly oblivious, continued.

        Directly in front of the window stood a large desk with a massive monitor and a chaotic scattering of paperwork. A high-backed leather chair sat positioned behind it, exuding an air of authority. Every detail screamed "executive office," oozing power.

        The right side of the room held a bookcase and cupboards flanking a plush leather couch that could comfortably seat two or three people. Above the couch, framed certificates and a diploma hung proudly. "Yale..." I whispered, the prestigious university name hitting me like a wave.

        John, now seated at his desk, directed my attention to a large, fluffy rug in front of the couch. "I want you to play here for a bit while I work," he instructed. I followed his gaze, spotting a collection of toys scattered across the rug. The crinkle of my diaper as I sat down served as a harsh reminder of what was to come. I took another sip from the cup, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings as John began his work.

        The smattering of toys scattered across the rug did little to pique my interest.  There were basic building blocks, a coloring book with a fresh set of crayons, a few familiar ones from earlier with more color variety thrown in, and lastly... a plushie.  A giant, fluffy yellow star with a ridiculously cute face beamed back at me.

        A wave of realization crashed over me. John had mentioned taking away my stuffed animals earlier.  I winced, picking up the star and examining it with a newfound curiosity. It was soft, reassuringly plush, and undeniably adorable. The thought of it being confiscated sent a pang through me, a feeling I couldn't quite explain. Why did I suddenly care about a plushie I'd just met? Or even plushies in general? It had been nearly twelve years since I'd last held a plushie in my arms.

        A tear escaped my eye as I hugged the star closer, a memory flickering to life. My last stuffed friend – a brown, well-worn teddy bear. They said my grandparents got it for me when I was born, an original from their hometown in Germany. My parents deemed me "too old" for such things when I was just six, ripping my only confidant away. They were wrong, of course. Back then, that bear was my only friend, but I never complained.  I knew better than to complain.

        I set the star down with a sigh, taking another sip from the ever-present sippy cup. John sat at his desk, a picture of intense concentration. He seemed tense, his shoulders hunched over the documents scattered across his desk. A strange curiosity bubbled within me, wondering what could be so important to make him look so stressed.

        Just as I found myself staring a little too long, John's head snapped up and our eyes met. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then softened into warmth as he looked at me. I blushed furiously, quickly averting my gaze. Being caught staring always made me feel like I'd done something wrong.

        With nothing else to occupy my time, I picked up the coloring book. I flipped through the pages, past pictures of smiling animals, fantastical forests, and fairy tale princesses. But one image snagged my attention: a single, lonely tree standing tall in a field bathed in moonlight, with countless stars twinkling in the vast night sky. Something about the picture resonated with me, a feeling I couldn't quite explain.

        Deciding this would be my masterpiece, I settled into a comfortable position on the rug. My diaper crinkled softly as I positioned myself on my stomach, legs crossed as much as the padding between them allowed, and my head resting on the soft, comforting bulk of the star plushie. The coloring book lay open in front of me, crayons clutched in my hand. With a focused determination, I began to color, pouring my unexplainable emotions onto the page.

        Lost in my artistic endeavors, time melted away. The grass flourished under my green crayon, the tree trunk solidified in a rich brown, and the leaves burst into a vibrant tapestry of autumnal oranges and yellows. Just as I began swirling shades of purple and a deep blue to create the night sky, John's voice broke my concentration.

        I looked up to find him rubbing tired eyes. "I need a break," he sighed. "Are you hungry? I can make us some lunch."

        I nodded at that, feeling indeed a bit hungry already, and he shuffled over to peek at my coloring project. Crouching beside me, he examined the picture with a genuine smile. "This is beautiful, baby. We can put it up on the fridge when you're done."

        My heart skipped a beat at the praise. He reached for my now-empty sippy cup and gently helped me to my feet. My body protested slightly from the prolonged position, and a familiar crinkle reminded me of my ever-present diaper. Shame washed over me – I'd been so absorbed in coloring that I'd completely forgotten.

        John led me wordlessly to the kitchen and settled me at the dining table. He refilled my sippy cup and placed it within reach before disappearing to the counter. Soon, the rhythmic sound of him assembling sandwiches filled the air. This time, mine were pre-cut into bite-sized squares and served on the familiar plastic plate.

        Watching him work, I realized why he relied on Marge for most meals, but I couldn’t say anything as my own culinary expertise extended to instant noodles and frozen pizzas, so I didn't complain. Even if it’s just sandwiches, there was something comforting about being taken care of like that, however unconventional it might be.

        With the sandwiches devoured, John and I returned to his office. He resumed his work while I settled back on the rug, the telltale diaper crinkle a constant reminder. Focusing intently, I finished swirling the blue and purple hues of the night sky. Taking a yellow crayon, I diligently colored each tiny star, a meticulous twinkle against the vast night sky.

        Lost in my artistic world, my mind began to wander. I pondered the bizarre turn of events. Here I was, a diapered freshly-turned adult, coloring in the opulent office of a high-powered lawyer. Getting paid to be looked after – stranger jobs existed, for sure. Though, a pang of disappointment hit me as I realized one off-day a week wouldn't allow the usual escape into the virtual world I would have after coming home from a normal job. Not that I had ever worked a normal job anyway. Or had a home anymore. This was my home for the next four weeks, a stepping stone to a future overflowing with possibilities. Hope flickered as I envisioned the opportunities all that money could bring.

        My introspective reverie shattered with the insistent ringing of John's phone. Stifling a questioning glance, I watched as he answered it. "Mark," he greeted, followed by a "Yes, a few minutes, what's up?"  A furrow appeared in his brow as he listened, clearly a response to something this "Mark" said. His gaze darted towards me momentarily, then returned to the phone. "...Ugh, what do they want this time?" he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. "I’m still mad about what they had one of your guys do on Monday. Who needs a lawyer to avoid their own… family?" His voice trailed off as he noticed I was still watching him.

        A flicker of nervousness crossed his features, a silent plea for me not to pry.  He clearly wasn't a fan of this client, a sentiment that echoed the phone call in the cafe on my birthday – on Monday. A cold dread pooled in my stomach, but I quickly dismissed it as an impossible coincidence.

        Their conversation delved into legalese regarding a company acquisition, quickly losing me in the labyrinth of legal jargon. With no distractions, I began noticing the apple juice finding its course through my system. Glancing at the empty sippy cup, a knot twisted in my stomach. A whimper escaped my lips, a tremor running through me. I wasn't ready, not yet.  Clinging tightly to my star plushie, I started squirming as I braced myself for what was to come.

        Desperation began to mingle with restlessness. I tried my best to relax, to let go, but my body wouldn't cooperate. The squirming must have caught John's attention because his phone call abruptly ended.

        "Mark, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said into the receiver, "but I gotta go." A pause. "Alright. Yeah. See you on Monday."  The call ended with a click.

        He leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow raised. He knew. I knew he knew. And he knew I knew he knew. The realization filled me with a burning heat. This wasn't a coincidence, he was clearly enjoying my discomfort.

        "Go on then," he said, his amusement barely concealed.

        My cheeks flushed scarlet. "I'm trying," I whimpered, frustration clinging to my voice.  I strained, pushed, but nothing responded.

        He watched for a few more minutes, a smirk playing on his lips, before finally sighing.  "Alright, alright," he said, the amusement fading. "I've got an idea that might make this a little easier."

        He rose from his chair and crouched down next to me. His voice was softer now, less playful. "How about you sit on the toilet, but leave the diaper on? That might help you relax."

        The suggestion hung in the air.  Hesitantly, I nodded. It wasn't the ideal scenario, but with nowhere else to turn, it was the only option.

        He helped me to my feet, guiding me towards the guest bathroom once more. This time, however, he didn't stop at the doorway. A tense blush crept up my neck as he followed me inside and gently lowered me onto the cool toilet seat. The diaper crinkled with the movement, and I remained fully clothed, feeling utterly exposed under his watchful gaze. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. He clearly relished this awkward situation.

        "Um," I stammered, barely above a whisper. "Could you, maybe, turn around?"

        He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Why?"

        "It's embarrassing," I admitted, the blush deepening.

        He sighed, finally relenting and turning away. "For your information," he began, "I don't like seeing you suffer like that." A scoff escaped my lips. 

        "But your face tells a different story," I retorted, my voice barely above a whisper.

        "You misunderstood then," he explained himself. "I don’t like seeing you suffer, but, I do enjoy watching you push your boundaries." 

        I wasn't entirely convinced. "If you say so..."

        Silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the nagging ache in my bladder. My body, however, remained stubbornly uncooperative. 

        "Are you finished yet?" he finally asked.

        "No, it's not working," I mumbled, a wave of disappointment washing over me.

        "Alright then," he said, a hint of amusement creeping back into his voice. "Close your eyes."

        "Okay," I complied, hoping it might help.

        "Now, imagine you're sitting on a toilet," he began, but I cut him off.

        "I am sitting on a toilet!" I exclaimed, frustration bubbling over.

        "Don't get snappy with me, little girl," he said, his voice surprisingly firm.  A jolt of fear shot through me, and I immediately apologized. 

        "I'm sorry," I whimpered. 

        His tone softened immediately. "No need to apologize. Now, try again. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine you're sitting on the toilet like you always do.  Block out everything else and just relax."

        Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and followed his instructions. It took a few moments, but a sudden warmth spread through the diaper. Startled, I clenched automatically and my eyes shot open. 

        "I peed!" I exclaimed, a mixture of pride and confusion swirling within me.  How could I possibly be excited about wetting myself?  Pushing that thought aside, I met John's gaze as he turned around. A genuine smile spread across his face.

        "Good job!" he praised. "Are you finished?"

        Shaking my head, I mumbled, "It surprised me, and I stopped."

        "No problem," he reassured me. "Just do it again."

        Closing my eyes once more, I focused on his calming instructions. This time, the flow came more readily, a strange warmth spreading across the diaper. It wasn't a feeling of discomfort; instead, it was strangely comforting. A pleasant fuzziness filled my head, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of embarrassment. Wetting myself in front of a near-stranger sent a jolt of shame through me.  

        But peeking up at him, I saw nothing but pride reflected back.  He was actually proud of me?  

[dpzed]

It's so difficult to portray a character's personality without shooting ahead when you already have their character development planned out in your head. It's just the first day of their arrangement so I have an idea on how to make the character development more clear in the future, I just hope I didn't already fuck it up too much and it actually works out. Big respect to other authors dealing with issues like this.

 

Chapter 8 - Adjustment

        As I looked up at John, his eyes filled with pride, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. "Good job, baby," he said, his voice filled with encouragement. "Was it that bad?" he inquired, genuinely concerned.

        "It's weird," I responded, trying to sort through the flood of emotions and sensations I was experiencing. "It doesn't really feel bad. I just had trouble doing it." I defended myself with a slight pout. I was determined to fulfill my end of the contract. I needed the money after all.

        John studied me carefully, gauging my reaction. "Would you be okay with wearing the wet diaper for a while to get used to the feeling?" he asked, considering my comfort. "Or should I change you right away?" He wanted to give me a choice in the matter.

        I hesitated for a moment, still processing the feeling of the wet padding against my skin. Then, with a tilt of my head and a touch of innocence in my voice, I asked, "Get used to it?" John chuckled at my childish antics but understood my underlying question.

        "This won't be your last wet diaper, baby," he said, his voice filled with wisdom. "You need to get used to it sooner or later. I just thought we'd get it over with right away." I pondered his words for a moment, but finally nodded hesitantly, my curiosity getting the better of me.

        The feeling was odd but intriguing, and I couldn't help but wonder how long John would let me stay in it. I knew he was trying to help me adjust, but there was still a sense of vulnerability in wearing a wet diaper for the first time.

        As John helped me stand up, adjusting my tights and dress to ensure a proper fit, I immediately felt the sag of the wet diaper beneath the layers. It wasn't sliding down; it remained firmly in place, but the middle sagged, and the bulge between my legs was more noticeable. Walking with a diaper between my legs had felt odd initially, but I had grown accustomed to it quickly. Now, however, I definitely felt myself waddling slightly as I followed John out of the restroom and back into the home office.

        Once we had entered, John began speaking again. "I still need to finish up some work," he said, grabbing my sippy cup from the floor. "Get settled, I'll be right back." With that, he disappeared from the room.

        I looked around the room at the toys on the floor and sighed. I didn't feel like coloring anymore, and the toy blocks seemed unappealing. Instead, I picked up my plushie star and walked over to the window, hugging it tightly. I yawned, gazing out at the bustling city below. It was barely 2 pm, and I was already feeling exhausted.

        As I continued to stare out the window, my gaze ultimately fell on my parents' skyscraper in the distance again. Contradictory emotions swirled within me as I looked at it, standing there with a wet diaper between my legs. It was strange how it felt like I was taking back control of my own life by giving it up in this way.

        I sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the window, my diaper didn’t crinkle as much anymore, it squished instead. As I drifted off into my thoughts, wondering what was taking him so long, losing focus in my eyes, I suddenly caught a reflection in the window. 

        There was John, leaning on the door frame with my sippy cup in his hands and a big smile on his face. Our gazes met, and he noticed me watching him too. His smile immediately faltered, replaced with the serious look on his face that I saw most of the time. Basically, all the time, unless he was making fun of me and had this grin on his face that I hated so much. 

        He approached me, looming over me from behind, and I tilted my head upwards so I could see his face upside down. A familiar sight by now. He handed me the sippy cup, but before I could speak up, he put a pacifier in my mouth. I pouted, and he chuckled. There it was, that grin I was talking about.

        "Be good," he said, "I have to get my work finished now. I'm behind schedule thanks to you." He said it accusingly, but I knew he was playing. After all, he was paying me to be there.

        I yawned again, this time through my pacifier, and turned my attention back to the cityscape below me. As I heard John start typing on his keyboard behind me, I watched the little ants and cars moving around down there. I wondered what their lives were like. Were some of them wearing diapers like me right now? Were they wet too? 

        I pondered all the sensations I was feeling again. The diaper under my butt was still squishy, but it wasn't warm anymore. Although it wasn't cold either, it was right in between, at the perfect body temperature.

        The beautiful dress I was wearing, the fabric softly hugging my frame, was definitely one of my favorite things so far that day. That, as well as the French braids in my hair, felt so elegant. I closed my eyes and remembered the feeling of John braiding my hair, it was so relaxing. 

        The pacifier between my lips was a new sensation in the mix. I had had it in my mouth briefly earlier, but now I got to try it out for real. Sucking it softly, I found it soothing, and it felt like a natural instinct. At that moment, I didn't even care about how weird it was. I was entranced.

        I felt the exhaustion wash over me, and I hugged my plushie star tightly as I laid down in a fetal position, sucking on the pacifier, basking in the sun. I felt so small, so at peace. With these feelings washing over me, I drifted off.

        I faintly remembered being picked up and laid down on a soft surface, something fuzzy draped over my body. But I didn't really wake up. I stirred a little to find a comfortable position and drifted off again. 

        Some time later, I opened my eyes again, the pacifier still in my mouth. I was still in John's office, but now I was laying on the couch. There was a blanket on the ground next to it, which must have fallen down. I looked over to the desk, but John wasn't there anymore. I saw the sun about to set outside the window. I must have been asleep for quite a while.

        I stretched and yawned to shake the sleepiness off, but as I did, the pacifier fell out of my mouth. It rolled down the couch and landed on the floor. I looked down at it and remembered rule 4. Hastily, I picked it up and put it back in my mouth, nervously looking around the room to see if John had seen me. I mentally facepalmed myself and blushed. I had already checked if he was there.

        Thinking about John, I decided I should go look for him and let him know I was awake. I stood up and stretched again. Grabbing my star plushie from the couch, which apparently had served as a pillow, I ventured out of his office into the living room, my head still feeling a bit fuzzy.

        Yawning with the pacifier in my mouth, I made my way down the steps into the living room and found John sitting on the couch with a laptop on his lap and a glass of whiskey in front of him on the coffee table. He looked to be focused on whatever he was doing. I heard rustling coming from the kitchen and assumed Marge was working on dinner again.

        I approached John and sat down in front of him on the floor, legs crossed. My diaper squished as I sat down, and I cringed a little. It was starting to feel a little gross by now. I curiously watched John work for a while. He was so engrossed in his laptop screen that he hadn't even noticed me yet. The sight was familiar; I had often found myself similarly focused on my PC as well.

        Playfully, I poked his legs a little, and he got startled, which made me giggle a bit. He looked annoyed for a second, but his gaze quickly turned soft when he noticed it was me. He greeted me, his attention now fully focused on me, "Hey, kitty, how was your nap?" he asked with a smile. I looked at him dumbfounded, fully aware that I wasn't allowed to speak when I had the pacifier in my mouth. Was this a test or something?

        He awaited my response for a second before he realized what was wrong and started laughing. "My apologies, I forgot," he said as he grabbed the pacifier from my lips. 

        "Kitty?" I asked immediately, wondering where this new nickname came from. 

        "When you fell asleep on the floor, basking in the sun, you looked like a little kitten," he explained. "You looked so peaceful." He trailed off, his eyes unfocused, clearly lost in the memory.

        He shook his head a little and returned his attention to the present me. "Anyway, how was your nap?"

        "Good. I hadn't even realized I was this tired," I replied this time as I yawned once more. "But I could really use a change now." I added, my face wincing a bit in disgust as I shifted my position a little.

        "Don't worry, I'll change you in a moment," he said reassuringly, but continued in a commanding yet warm tone, "Go join Marge in the kitchen for a bit. I'll get you when I've finished writing this email." 

        With a nod, I stood up, but as I did, I felt a familiar sensation in my bladder again. "Uhm, Daddy," I whispered, drawing his attention back to me. "I need to pee again," I said sheepishly, blushing at the admission.

        He looked at me a bit dumbfounded, "And? Do you need help again?" he asked, a mixture of concern and annoyance in his eyes. I hastily shook my head, determined not to need his help this time, but I was still uncertain, apprehension evident in my eyes. "Are you worried about the diaper's capacity?" he asked, realizing my concern, or at least part of it. I nodded in response, still blushing about the embarrassment of this topic.

        "Don't worry about that. The diaper can hold two or three of those wettings," he explained to me, observing my reaction for a second before he added, "Also, in the future, that will be my concern to worry about. I want you to simply go whenever you need to. If it leaks, it's my responsibility to clean it up." He said it firmly. My eyes widened a bit as his words sank in, but I nodded in acknowledgment.

        "Go on then. I think Marge could use some help in the kitchen," he commanded, redirecting his attention back to the screen in front of him. I scurried off towards the kitchen at that, leaving my star plushie behind on the floor.

        "Greetings, Miss Feli," Marge greeted me as I entered the kitchen, "how nice of you to join me. Would you like something to drink?" she asked, and I nodded instinctively, even though my bladder was still demanding attention. I ignored the urge for now, deciding to deal with it later. 

        "What are you cooking?" I asked curiously, looking over at the stove as Marge grabbed the already rinsed-out sippy cup from the sink and filled it with juice.

        "I'm making a meatloaf with mashed potatoes and some vegetables," she explained before handing me the sippy cup. I immediately took a sip, my throat parched from the nap. "Wanna help me?" Marge asked, and I nodded instinctively. However, I was surprised to see her cook such a down-to-earth, home-made meal. I expected something fancier.

        Marge then showed me how to mash the potatoes, and I had to use all my strength to get them mashed properly. It was nice cooking together like that. Again, something I've never experienced before. As a child, we had a private chef, and when I moved into my own apartment, I was always alone and didn't really know how to cook proper meals anyway.

        Once the potatoes were properly mashed, Marge put them back on the stove, and we sat down at the table while we waited for everything to cook. I asked Marge about the meal, and she was in the middle of telling a story about how her mom taught her all these recipes when my bladder demanded attention again. 

        This time, I decided I would try to give in, so I closed my eyes and followed John's instructions from earlier. I imagined sitting on a toilet, blocking out everything around me. I took a deep breath and relaxed. Lo and behold, I was wetting myself for the second time that day. Relieved, I let out a sigh, proud of myself for wetting my pants in the kitchen while listening to Marge's story.

        Wait, what story? Marge had stopped talking. Apprehensively I opened my eyes again and found Marge watching me closely with a warm smile on her lips. 

        "Your potty face looks adorable," she said, and I blushed furiously, looking down at the table. "Don't worry about it, I've seen plenty of potty faces," she reassured me. "Though yours is the most adorable." How could she make me blush even more? And what did she mean she had seen plenty?

        Quickly, I grabbed my sippy cup and took a long sip of the juice as a distraction and to calm my nerves. The diaper was feeling noticeably bigger and squishier now; I couldn't even move my knees together anymore. The newly added warmth made it more comfortable again, although it was feeling pretty full already, and I didn't think it could hold much more than that.

        After Marge had finished her story, she turned her attention back to the kitchen, while I waited at the table and watched her. My head was resting on my arms, and I lazily kicked my feet back and forth, pondering about the day. As the minutes passed, I grew hungrier with every passing moment as the savory smells filled the room.

        Suddenly, I was startled by a poke on my back. I screeched and jolted my head around, only to be met with a mischievous grin. John was standing right behind me. 

        "Payback," he chuckled as he watched me collect my nerves again, and I blushed. He had caught me completely off guard, and I kind of deserved it too, but his laughter was contagious this time and I joined him. 

        "How is your diaper holding up, baby?" he asked me once we had calmed down. 

        "Warm and soggy," I replied with a pout, which he didn't pay any attention to, though. 

        "Good girl," he praised me instead, "Let's get you changed then."

        With a blush, I followed John out of the kitchen and into the living room. As we entered the room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment, nervousness and excitement. My heart was racing at the thought of him seeing me naked again, but I was also glad to finally get changed out of my soggy underpants.

        He had laid out some kind of plastic mat with childish designs on the rug. I saw a fresh diaper, a pack of wet wipes, and a bottle of baby powder next to it. This new diaper looked a bit different, though; it was thick and pink with little stars on it. My eyes were fixed on it, and he must've noticed, as he picked it up and held it out to me. Tentatively, I reached out for it and inspected it as he began explaining, "These are your nighttime diapers. They hold more and don't leak as easily when you pee while laying down. Don't they look cute?" He asked, and I nodded with a slight blush. They did look kind of cute.

        I folded it out and was transfixed by the design, carefully tracing my finger over the plastic. "Oh, and they also swell up a bit more when you wet them," he added matter-of-factly, "They are specifically made for people like you." 

        "People like me?" I asked immediately, my curiosity piqued, wondering what he was talking about. 

        "Age Players," he clarified, "People that enjoy wearing diapers and pretending they're little kids or babies." He explained, and I furrowed my eyebrows in response. 

        "But you're making me do this!" I protested, and he held up his hands in an innocent manner.

        "Yes I am. But maybe one day you will enjoy doing this,” he said with a smirk, and I blushed at that. Little did he know that I already didn't really mind most of this stuff. I could see how some people are enjoying this. But for me, it was just a job, something to get me back on my feet, I reassured myself. 

        "Now let's go," he pulled me out of my introspection, "Lay down so I can get you changed, Miss Soggypants" he commanded me, and I blushed even more as I complied. I really hoped this new nickname wouldn't stick; I much preferred "Kitty" or even "Baby."

        I laid down on the plastic mat, which was crinkly and soft, and I figured it must be a changing mat or something to protect the rug from my soaked diaper. I hid my face again as he began untaping my diaper, embarrassed by him seeing me naked. He had untaped the soaked padding and was wiping me down, the cold sending shivers down my spine, when he remembered something. 

        "I'll be right back," he said after he was done wiping, leaving my lower body exposed to the world.

        I had opened my eyes again while he was gone and a few seconds later, he returned with a razor and shaving cream. I winced a little at the sight, remembering him mentioning it earlier. Surrendering to my fate, I laid my head back down and sighed. It tickled a bit to have him shave me, and he expertly applied baby powder and taped up the thick nighttime diaper. I was completely lost in my own head at that point.

        Sometime during the shaving, I had tuned out my surroundings and surrendered to his touch. I was brought back to reality by a pat on the diaper and his fingers tickling my sides, to which I only replied with furious giggles.

         "Look who's back," John grinned at me once I had calmed down, "You were completely tuned out there, but you are all clean now. How does it feel?"

        "Much better," I replied with a smile and a nod. The bulk was noticeable even when dry, and with my pubes shaved, it felt much better. However, I figured he mainly did it just so he has an easier time cleaning me up in the future.

        "Dinner should be ready by now. Let's fill up that tummy of yours," he said and patted my stomach before helping me on my feet. I giggled again when he touched me; I was really ticklish.

        Dinner was absolutely delicious once again, thanks to Marge's skills, but she said me mashing the potatoes gave it a special touch, which filled me with pride. I was flushing down the last bites of meatloaf and mashed potatoes with juice from my sippy cup when John spoke up. He had already finished eating. 

        "Once you're done, I've got a surprise for you, and after that, we can go watch a movie before bed," he said, his tone filled with excitement. I nodded eagerly; I loved surprises. Or at least the good kind. Not the kind of surprises where you get a letter from your parents at your graduation telling you they're cutting you off. I winced at the thought, but quickly shook it off. This was a good surprise, at least that's what I figured from his tone of voice. 

        "I'm done!" I exclaimed with a big nod, but he just chuckled at me. 

        "What about your veggies?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

        He gave me that commanding look again that always sent chills down my spine. I looked over to the fridge to check my rules and sure enough, rule 5 was staring right back at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked back at the vegetables on my princess plate. 

        "Rule 5" I mumbled, barely audible, and reluctantly picked up my kiddy fork with a small pout.

        John gave me a big satisfied nod in response. It wasn't that I don't like vegetables, but I just ate the better things on my plate first and then wasn't hungry anymore.

        With dinner completed, John led me through the living room into the corridor. We stopped in front of the door that was opposite his home office. "This will be your room for the next month," he said as he opened the door and showed me inside. I was speechless, my mouth slightly agape in awe as I took it all in. This room looked like a toddler's dream. I wasn't a toddler by any means, but if I was, I would've probably loved it. Although I wasn't the biggest fan of the color scheme; it was too bright and pink for my taste.

        My eyes scanned the room, taking it all in, as John stood behind me and held my shoulders. The back wall of the room was covered by yet another top-to-bottom window, and in front of it, in the right corner, was an oversized toddler bed with pink sheets. There were railings on both sides of the bed resembling a crib, but it was low enough that it wouldn't prevent someone from getting out of bed. It should prevent me from falling out of bed, however, but I didn't suspect this to become a problem.

        Opposite the bed, covering the whole left wall of the room, was a big white wardrobe with a full-size mirror on it. Next to the bed on the right side was an oversized changing table, with lots of diapers and supplies stacked under it. I guessed this is where he got all the diapers from throughout the day. At the foot of the bed, in front of the window, was a big toybox with a fluffy-looking rug next to it. Everything was in shades of pink or white.
"What do you think?" John asked me expectantly after giving me some time to take it all in. 

        "It's... pink," was the only thing I could reply. I was overwhelmed by the thought of this being my room for the next month. Confusing emotions were swirling inside me, thinking about it, but one specifically stood out to me. I was... excited about it? I shook my head in disbelief, thinking about how easily I went along with everything today. A chill ran down my spine. Why was this exciting me? I just turned 18 a few days ago, not 6.

        John must've sensed my discomfort as he pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. "We can redecorate it if you want to. Maybe repaint the walls?" he asked, gauging my reaction. I nodded hesitantly in response. 

        "Yeah... I mean, it's fine, it's just... I don't know." I mumbled. I really didn't know. I had been fine the whole day, going along with everything, even wetting a diaper and having John change me, but standing here in this room made it all suddenly feel so real.

        "I'm doing this for the money, it doesn't matter how I feel about it" I told myself and shook my head. I turned around and gave John a big, but fake, smile. "Thank you, Daddy" I said, and he smiled back, although I could feel that he saw right through my facade at that moment.

        "Let's go relax and watch a movie, today must've been a lot for you," he said compassionately, and I nodded. He was right; I was completely overwhelmed by today's events.
 

[Tracey]

The detail in your writing sets it aside as a story that has been planned and thought through vs a rambling collection of unrelated events. Looking forward to more as the month unfolds.

[dpzed]

Chapter 9 - Measurement

        I stirred around uncomfortably, feeling something pulling me out of the sweet solace of sleep. Confused, I realized I was lying in a bed, but I couldn't remember how I had gotten there. Something was poking my back, and I reached under me to pull out the mysterious object. Holding it up in front of me, dimly illuminated by the light of the night sky and the city below through the window, I saw it was my pacifier. John had given it to me when I was getting tired yesterday on the couch. I didn't mind using it when John told me to, but it wasn't like I needed it, so I put it aside.

        As I collected my bearings, looking around the dimly lit toddler's bedroom, I realized that the pacifier pressing into my back wasn't the source of my discomfort. My bladder was demanding my attention, and it was urgent. I was about to climb over the railings when the snug padding between my legs reminded me of my situation, and I sat back down with a sigh. John expected me to use the diaper, and I had promised him I would. I subconsciously grabbed my plush star and held it tight for moral support as I took a deep breath and followed John's instructions.

        Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine sitting on a toilet and relaxing, but nothing happened. I was getting desperate, squirming in bed. The last two times, I had been sitting upright on the toilet or a chair, making it easy to imagine using the toilet. But trying to do the same when sitting snuggled up in a comfortable bed was more difficult. I tried again, but this time I also tried to push a little, and a little spurt actually escaped. Startled by it, I clenched immediately, stopping the leak. This felt wrong. The other times, John had told me to do it directly, but here in bed, it felt like I was trying to wet my bed on purpose, a thought I had a hard time coming to terms with.

        But my bladder reminded me that I was out of options, so I did it again, but this time I didn’t stop the flow. I felt my diaper slowly growing warmer, a little pool forming at the seat of it, but it got absorbed almost as quickly as it appeared. I sighed in relief and embraced the warmth. Not having to leave the warm comfort of my bed in the middle of the night was an upside I hadn't considered.

        I furrowed my brows and shook my head. I shouldn't be enjoying something like this. With a heavy sigh and confusing emotions, I rested my head back on the pillow. Still cuddling up to my plushie, I watched the stars through the window. It was still the middle of the night. Without being able to dwell too much on my situation, sleep quickly engulfed me again, with just one thought remaining in my head: What is happening to me?

        "Wake up, sleepyhead," John's voice echoed through the void of my mind. It felt like I had barely closed my eyes before John entered my room and woke me up. I stretched and yawned before opening my eyes, the sun was already rising and shining right on me. This wasn't a good spot for sleeping in, I figured.

        "How did you sleep?" he asked, standing right over me now, making me feel small. 

        "Weird," I replied, feeling the soggy diaper between my legs, something I hadn't gotten used to yet.

        "How can you sleep weirdly?" he asked amusingly with a raised eyebrow, and I furrowed my eyebrows in response. 

        "I woke up and had to pee," I said matter-of-factly, but he just smiled in response, making me blush.

        "And? What did you do?" he pressed. I didn't like that he wanted me to say it out loud. 

        "I used my diaper. It was weird," I said, averting my eyes in embarrassment.

        He leaned down and kissed my forehead. My eyes went wide, this was new. "I'm proud of you, baby," he said, "I'll change you after breakfast. We got a long day ahead of us." And with that, he grabbed me under my arms and picked me up, holding me like a baby. This was new too. It was like I didn't weigh anything to him. He had carried me before, but both times I had been asleep.

        Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, hiding my face in his shoulder so he wouldn't see my blush. I wasn't used to this much physical affection.

        Being carried through the living room into the kitchen, I realized I was wearing a way too oversized nightgown, but I had no recollection of changing into it. I sighed and figured I must've really been out of it yesterday. Arriving in the kitchen, I noticed that Marge wasn't there today, and judging by the breakfast that was already served, I figured that John had made it. For John, there were a few slices of toast and a cup of coffee, and for me, there was a childish bowl of cereal and a sippy cup with orange juice.

        While we were eating, I suddenly remembered something that had completely slipped my mind in the turmoil of the last days. 

        "John," I began speaking, but his furrowed eyebrow made me quickly correct myself. "I mean, Daddy," his eyes softened. "There's something I need to take care of until Monday," I said, gauging his reaction.

        "What is it?" he asked nonchalantly, seemingly ignoring my slip-up. 

        "I have all my stuff in a storage unit down a few blocks. I could only afford to rent it for a week. I need to extend it or something." 

        He seemed to think for a second before responding. "Hmmm... We're already busy today. I'll have someone take care of it." And with that, he didn't elaborate further, but my curiosity was piqued. 

        "What are we doing today?" I asked, but he just shrugged it off. 

        "Don't worry about it, you'll see."

        I furrowed my eyebrows, not being in the know about what was going to happen was kinda getting on my nerves. He raised his eyebrow at that, but didn't press me on the matter.

        As we finished our breakfast, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety about the day's plans. I knew I could trust John to take care of things, but I also wanted to be involved in the decision-making process. I couldn't help but ask one more time, "Daddy, what are we doing today?"

        He smiled at me and said, "You'll see, it's a surprise. Just trust me, okay?"

        Reluctantly, I agreed, and with a huff I followed behind him back to my bedroom.

        John sifted through the wardrobe for a few minutes, seemingly looking for something. My eyes inspected every piece of clothing he grabbed from it. They all looked to be oversized, but style-wise, they ranged from looking like baby clothes to dresses a 6-year-old would wear. He shook his head and sighed for every single one of them and discarded them on the ground, leaving just a few pairs of socks, tights, and the dress I wore yesterday behind.

        Standing nervously next to him, my anxiety grew with every piece thrown onto the pile. As I put the puzzle pieces in my mind together, the furnished nursery-like bedroom, all the oversized children's clothes, Marge commenting about having seen plenty of potty-faces, it all suddenly clicked into place. There had been other women before me doing the same thing for John.

        My eyes grew wide at the realization, and a shiver ran down my spine. Had he paid them too? Why did they leave? What happened to them? Why didn’t I realize sooner? Insecurity washed over me. Am I not going to be good enough? Is he going to get rid of me before the month's up? Will he hold up his part of the contract?

        John pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts with a deep sigh. "I guess we'll have to get a whole new wardrobe for you. You won't fit into any of these." He said and turned to look at me, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw my expression.

        "Feli, are you okay? You look pale," he said, concern evident in his voice.

        "I- I- I'm fine," I stammered, averting my gaze. John didn't need to know about my worries. It's going to be okay as long as I'm getting paid.

        But as I stood there, I couldn't help but wonder if I was making a mistake. I should have been more cautious before signing the contract. I should have asked more questions. But now, it was too late to turn back.

        John noticed my distant gaze and reached out to touch my cheek gently. "Feli, you can talk to me about anything," he said softly. "I'm here for you, and I'll support you."

        I looked into his eyes and saw genuine concern. Maybe I was overthinking things. Maybe everything will be fine. I took a deep breath and tried to push my doubts away.

        "I'll be fine, don't worry about it," I said with a bit more confidence this time, and John nodded, accepting my answer this time, although I knew he didn't actually believe it. "Alright, let's get you ready for the day then."

        And with that, he lifted me up again, startling me, but he quickly put me down on the changing table. I hid my face with my hands in embarrassment, as he quickly got rid of my soaked nighttime diaper and wiped me off. He did it so quickly that I didn't even have a chance to protest.

        "Do you need to go potty?" he asked, the nightgown hiked up over my belly button, my lower body exposed to the world. I nodded shamefully; I always had to go number 2 in the morning. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized that I hadn't even thought about it at all. But before I even had a chance to think about the implications of having to mess in a diaper, he picked me up again and set me back on the ground.

        "Hurry up then," he said and I looked at him puzzled. He got the hint and patted me on my back before explaining himself. "Go and use the toilet, I'll wait here."

        I blushed in response but nodded. Thankful for the opportunity, I hurried towards the bathroom in just my nightgown.

        "Good," he said and kissed my forehead, which made me blush even more, before picking out yesterday's dress and pulling it over me. He put on a new pair of white tights on me and then picked me up. "Chuck is already waiting for us downstairs."

        He picked up a bag from the changing table, which I hadn’t even noticed before, threw it over his shoulder and carried me through the penthouse.

        "What about my shoes?" I asked, as he opened the front door to leave.

        "You need new ones anyway, so I'll just carry you for now," he replied nonchalantly and a knot formed in my stomach. John is going to carry me out in public while I'm dressed like this? This worried me, but I decided not to dwell on it, so I rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me into the elevator.

        Chuck did indeed wait for us in the underground garage, and John buckled me before taking a seat beside me. "Good morning, Mr. Harrington," Chuck greeted John before he looked at me through the rearview mirror with a nod and a wink, "Miss Feli."

        My eyes went wide when I heard him call me ‘Miss Feli’ and I looked at John for answers, but he just chuckled. Though after a few seconds he was kind enough to not leave me in the dark about this. "Chuck is Marge's husband, they've both been working for me for years."

        My lips formed a silent ‘Oh’ at the revelation. That certainly explained it. 

        "Where are we heading?" Chuck asked John as he was leaving the garage onto the bustling streets of New York City on a Saturday morning.

        "First, I want to make a stop at Claire's to get Feli's measurements,” John thought for a second before continuing, “then afterwards we need to head to Little's Delight."

        "Very well, Sir."

        As we drove through the city, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. I was learning more about my new life and the people involved in it, but there were still so many questions left unanswered.

        As we arrived at Claire's, a small boutique that seemed to specialize in tailored high-end fashion, I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. I had never been shopping for clothes like this before, and I was worried about being seen in public in my current outfit. The pull-up under my dress also didn’t help with that.

        John carried me inside the boutique, but there was nobody around. However, the chime of the door was enough to cause attention, as we heard someone yell from a backroom. "I'm in the back, I'll be right out." The mysterious woman's voice said, but John apparently didn't care as he carried me straight towards where the voice was coming from. 

        "Oh, John, what a pleasure," a tall, beautiful woman greeted us as we entered some kind of workshop, looking up from a sewing machine. "Who is this beautiful girl you got there?" she asked, her eyes fixed on me with curiosity, as she got up and approached us. I blushed crimson. Something about being in John's arms and being talked to like that suddenly made me super shy.

        "This is Feli," John chuckled, "I want you to get her measurements, all the clothes I had are too big on her." The woman was still only looking at me, eyeing me very closely, scanning every feature of my body. 

        "Ah, I see," the woman replied with a warm smile, "I'm Claire. Nice to meet you, Feli." She stared at me for a few more seconds before she turned her attention back to John. "Why don't you two have a seat? I'll get us some drinks and then you can tell me everything." She gestured with her hands expressively, drawing attention to the fact that John was still carrying me.

        John just chuckled at that. "I'll take you up on the drinks, but we don't have all day. I can explain everything some other time." 

        "Of course, of course. I'll be right back, make yourself at home." 

        And with that, she disappeared through a door. John sat me down on a couch and crouched down in front of me searching my gaze, his eyes unexpectedly filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked in a whisper. I was in fact not exactly okay, but why was he suddenly so concerned? 

        "How much, um, does she know?" I asked timidly, searching his eyes for any hint on what's actually going on here. However, he averted his eyes and scratched his head. There was something he wasn't telling me.

        "Well... I didn't exactly tell her anything about you... but..." he began, but got interrupted by Claire returning with our drinks. She had a cup of coffee for John and a sippy cup for me. I gulped and my eyes went wide. That pretty much answered my question. Claire stopped right in her tracks as she saw my reaction. 

        "Oh I’m sorry, was this wrong? I assumed..." she apologized immediately, but this time John cut her off. 

        "No, your assumption was correct. Once again..." he trailed off the last bit. I felt like these two had quite the past together.

        "Good, good. I hope you like apple juice then, Feli," Claire said and handed me a sippy cup. I thanked her and took a sip. "So does that mean the designs you messaged me about yesterday are for her then?" Claire asked John with a raised eyebrow, excitement evident in her eyes.

        "Yes, they're for her, but she wasn't supposed to know about it yet," John replied. It felt weird how they were just talking about me like I wasn't there, but my curiosity piqued at that. "What designs?" I asked instinctively, however instead of answering me, John pulled my pacifier from his pocket and pushed it between my lips with a stern look.

        I pouted at that, but I understood the message, while Claire just chuckled at the show we were giving her. 

        I scanned the room silently while they did some small talk. There were mostly extravagant dresses or expensive-looking suits in this shop. With my current role in this arrangement, I wondered what designs he asked her about. I figured it had to be some kind of oversized children's party dress like the one I was wearing. Though, not leaving me with much time to ponder about potential dresses I would enjoy, they both soon turned their attention back to me.

        "Well, Feli, let's get your measurements then, shall we?" Claire exclaimed, but before I could even respond, she already grabbed my hand and led me over to some kind of stool to stand on. "I need you to take off your dress real quick so I can accurately measure you." she said as I stood there. I looked at John for help, anxiety rising inside me at the prospect of her seeing my pull-up, but John just nodded reassuringly.

        Shortly after, I stood in the backroom with a bare chest and my pull-up faintly visible under my white tights. I blushed crimson as Claire once again scanned my whole body, her eyes stopping at my crotch for a second. A slight smile tucking at the corners of her lips was her only reaction to that, however, before she grabbed her measuring tape and expertly measured every inch of my body. Unfortunately her professionalism didn't really help curbing my embarrassment.

        Once I had been dressed, John already picked me up again and we said goodbye to Claire. The drive to our next destination wasn't that long, but when the car stopped in front of the playfully decorated storefront, there was a pressing matter on my mind. "Daddy," I began nervously while we were still in the car, my face flushed red, "I need a change."
 

[Tracey]

John is enjoying his new challenge and Feli is getting to experience a second childhood,

Well done, being made to undress and wear a pull-up and toddler tights in front of a stranger definately tested Feli,  this is a new theme and the following chapters should be excellent.

[fyunch]

Delightful writing.  The pacing and character development is first rate.

[fyunch]

There is one continuity oddity.  After breakfast Daddy takes off Feli’s night diaper and sends her to the bathroom.  Then he puts her in her dress and tights, no mention of the pull-up, which we learn about when she is being measured.  I had to reread carefully to discover that there is no mention of Feli being put in the pull-up.

Still delightful.  I can’t wait for the next installment!

Edited March 14 by fyunch
Correct typo

[Dirkimaus]

please continue writing

[fyunch]

Eagerly waiting for the arrival at Little’s Delight.  I feel tingly all over every time I think about what is coming in the next episode or three.

[fyunch]

On 3/8/2024 at 1:57 PM, dpzed said:

"Your potty face looks adorable," she said, and I blushed furiously, looking down at the table. "Don't worry about it, I've seen plenty of potty faces," she reassured me. "Though yours is the most adorable." How could she make me blush even more? And what did she mean she had seen plenty?

This is a particularly delightful scene.

[Kaiko-chan]

Ooo I'm liking this

[fyunch]

Please, can we have some more?