FlyingFox Posted February 4 Posted February 4 Outline – Chapters 1 – 76 This is the outline, providing important information as it appears in the story. If you are too lazy to read and suffer through my first attempts at writing, feel free to skip to the later chapters. I will be posting the full story in the following posts, and continuing. Some characters have short appearances, as they don’t seem to really fit into the narrative. I have tried not to rely on them. As the story has matured, so have the characters, I hope. And the story line. You will see I focus a lot on conversations, I confess I am influenced by "Gilmore Girls" and other movies where conversational dialogue is emphasized. If you have read the complete story, let me know if I missed something crucial in Sally’s story. Sally’s Growth The story begins on a freezing day when Sally and her mother, Bridget, are involved in a car crash. As they change lanes on the freeway, they unknowingly merge into the same lane as an 18-wheeler, both caught in each other’s blind spots. A light impact causes Bridget to swerve, but she overcompensates, sending them crashing into a barrier. Although the car is totaled, neither sustains serious injuries beyond some seatbelt bruising. However, Bridget is overwhelmed with worry for Sally, who, despite being fine, is strapped onto a body board, secured with a neck collar, placed on an ambulance gurney, and rushed to the hospital. Sally, however, has a different concern. She urgently needs to use the bathroom and dreads the idea of being offered a bedpan, fearing a humiliating situation in the hospital. After an evaluation, she is given a clean bill of health and sent home with her mother. Bridget, still anxious, watches her closely for signs of trauma or PTSD, but Sally appears unaffected. She does, however, begin to act more clingy than usual, becoming more affectionate and dependent on her mother. Though she doesn’t fully recognize it yet, something inside her shifts. She finds herself feeling a newfound joy for life, but also an increased desire for comfort and security. Bridget, happy to provide this for her daughter, welcomes the closeness. Sally goes through a phase of slight regression, showing a preference for footed pajamas. Bridget, enjoying the return of the bond she had started to lose with her growing daughter, encourages this phase and gently nudges Sally toward things that bring her comfort. Sally soon discovers a drawback—footed pajamas make going to the bathroom an ordeal, as they must be completely removed, exposing her to the cold. Bridget jokingly suggests that pull-ups would be a practical solution, not only for their convenience but because they would match her pajamas. And she would look cute. Initially dismissing the idea as ridiculous, Sally finds herself strangely intrigued by it. Through her mother’s perspective, she begins to consider the idea more seriously. Bridget, sensing her daughter’s curiosity, buys her a package of Goodnites so she can try them if she wants to. Sally, though hesitant at first, is secretly drawn to the thought. She has fond memories of wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas as a child. Eventually, she gives in to curiosity, tries them on, and to her surprise, she likes them. She even tests them by wetting one, enjoying the sense of warmth, security, and comfort they provide. They soon become a nightly routine, allowing her to sleep undisturbed without the discomfort of waking up in the cold for a bathroom trip. Following a visit to a therapist, Sally realizes that while she does not have a physical need for them, she may have an emotional one. She follows the therapist’s recommendation to wear actual diapers to bed as a way to fully experience the comfort and security they provide. Beyond this, she also flourishes in her passion for art. Bridget supports her by setting up an art studio at home where Sally can experiment with painting. She finds peace in creating art while wearing her diapers, embracing the complete sense of comfort and security they bring. Sally lives in Hartford, Connecticut, and attends a private school similar to the one portrayed in Gilmore Girls. Though she comes from an affluent background, she modestly refers to her classmates as the “rich girls,” unaware that she herself is among them. Her best friends, Katrina and Clara, have been by her side since kindergarten. Katrina, an extroverted and lively Colombian girl with wild dark curls, contrasts with Clara, who is quiet, introverted, intelligent, and a bit of a geek. Over time, Katrina and Clara develop a romantic relationship. As Sally processes her therapy and her feelings toward diapers, she begins to withdraw from her friends. This creates tension between them, leading to an emotional confrontation. When she finally opens up to them about her therapy, her art, and her choice to wear diapers, they embrace her without judgment. Katrina, with her extroverted personality, teases Sally in a playful, affectionate way, while Clara is more nurturing and understanding. Their unconditional support reassures Sally, and she becomes so comfortable around them that she has no problem wearing diapers in their presence. Meanwhile, Bridget navigates life as a single mother while supporting Sally through her journey. Sally’s father, Adrian Weiss, has always been a distant figure in her life. Living in Switzerland, he visits only a few times a year. After an intense economics lesson at school, where salaries and income are discussed, Sally comes home with questions about her own family’s financial situation. During the conversation, she casually mentions her father and wonders why he doesn’t visit more often. This prompts Bridget to reveal a startling truth—Adrian is the one financing their entire lifestyle, covering everything from their home to Sally’s school tuition. Bridget herself works as a charity manager, a job she is passionate about but that does not provide a salary. Sally is surprised to learn that she comes from significant wealth. Wanting her daughter to have a better understanding of her father, Bridget reaches out to Adrian and arranges a meeting. When Sally meets Adrian again, she sees him in a different light. Now almost fifteen, she is mature enough to get to know him on a deeper level. Adrian explains his recent absence, revealing that his father has passed away and that he had been managing estate matters. The most shocking revelation comes when Adrian tells Sally that his late father, who had previously shown no interest in his “illegitimate granddaughter,” surprisingly left her a massive trust fund. Overnight, Sally goes from seeing herself as a normal girl to realizing she is one of the wealthiest teenagers in America. With this newfound status, Sally’s life changes in profound ways. Adrian, a billionaire who travels in his private Gulfstream G700 jet, takes her under his wing, guiding her into the world of wealth, privilege, and responsibility. He introduces her to the family’s finance empire and begins mentoring her on how to manage her new role as an heiress. Throughout this, Bridget and Adrian maintain a warm and friendly relationship. Sally’s existence was the result of a romantic holiday in Switzerland years ago. Though Adrian always supported Bridget and their daughter, marriage was never an option due to his father’s disapproval. With the patriarch gone, their relationship now has the opportunity to evolve in ways they never expected. Despite her changing circumstances, Sally remains emotionally grounded. Her mother, her close friends, her volleyball team, and her nightly therapy rituals all keep her anchored. To the outside world, she explains her diaper use as nocturnal enuresis, an easy explanation for those who might question it. Unaware of Sally’s therapy, Adrian appoints Theresa as the family assistant. While officially taking on the roles of chauffeur and personal aide, Theresa also serves as a discreet bodyguard. Additionally, Olivia, Sally’s trust fund manager, becomes a trusted friend and advisor. Sally’s introduction to the extravagant side of her new life begins when she takes her first trip to Zurich aboard her father’s jet. Adrian dedicates an entire penthouse apartment in his home for her use. During the trip, one of Sally’s friends’ brothers, Charlie, takes a picture of her boarding the private jet and shares it on social media. The photo goes viral within their social circles, earning Sally the nickname “Gulfstream Sally.” She must now adjust to a new level of visibility and the attention that comes with it. Before returning to Zurich for a second visit, Sally is introduced to one of her trust fund’s many assets—an apartment in Soho, New York City. In reality, the trust owns the entire building, but the penthouse floor, complete with a rooftop terrace, is reserved for her whenever she visits the city. On her second trip to Zurich, her father receives an invitation to join friends on a luxury yacht cruise. The group has rented a mega yacht for a few days, offering Sally another glimpse into the lifestyle that now awaits her. The story continues as she navigates her transformation from an ordinary private schoolgirl to a wealthy heiress, finding a balance between privilege, responsibility, and the things that truly bring her happiness. 1
Dirty Boy Posted February 4 Posted February 4 I created Sally and Erika with AI. I don't remember the physical descriptions of Katrina and Clara 1
FlyingFox Posted February 4 Author Posted February 4 4 minutes ago, Dirty Boy said: I created Sally and Erika with AI. I don't remember the physical descriptions of Katrina and Clara Lovely 💝
FlyingFox Posted February 4 Author Posted February 4 Trying to divide it in equal chunks... I'll be posting them until what was published. Then, the story continues. Chapters 1-14 Chapter 1 (The opposite of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) could be described as Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG). While PTSD involves the negative effects of trauma, such as flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety, PTG refers to the positive psychological change that can occur as a result of struggling with adversity. PTG may involve a greater appreciation for life, increased personal strength, improved relationships, and a deeper sense of spirituality or meaning in life.) The impact felt like a slap in the face, although her whole body shook. Far from the darkness, or the proverbial light, Sally only saw… opaque, a sort of grey. And a powerful smell. It stung her nostrils. After that, it was mostly confusion. She vaguely remembered her mother in panic, trying to open her own door, trying in vain to pull on the deployed airbags covering the SUV’s windows, in a futile attempt to get her bearings, and asking if she was alright. Sally felt alright. As right as one can feel after a head-on collision with a concrete barrier, that is. She felt herself for wounds, but the most evident effect of this crash was a painful shoulder, evidently due to the seat belt. She was mostly stunned, shocked, disoriented. But she couldn’t see any blood or bones poking out. “I’m fine, mom”, she stuttered, as she double-checked herself, confirming she had broken nothing. Except for maybe that shoulder. That stung. The following moments were a daze for Sally, as helpful drivers made their way to the wrecked vehicle, and called out if they were all right. Her mom was still desperately trying to open her door, but it wouldn’t open. A concerned face suddenly appeared inches away from Sally’s face, behind the loose window airbag which had been lifted out of the way. “You alright?”, the gruff voice sounded. “Get us out of here”, her mother almost shrieked. “I can’t open my door”. “Uhm, ma’am, you’ve got a concrete barrier on that side. You’d better come out this side. “You OK, miss?”, he asked, looking at Sally, who nodded. Sirens were approaching, louder by the second. It annoyed Sally that somehow somebody decided to forget their siren on, and that seemed to be her only focus now. The siren. Eventually somebody decided it would be better to turn it off, so the emergency responders could communicate with the victims. Amidst Sally’s protestations that she was alright, she was strapped onto a scoop stretcher, with an elaborate cervical collar, and after a while in which they took some vitals and made sure she wasn’t actually dying, they slid her into the back of an ambulance, her concerned mom got in a jump seat, and then the siren started again. And this time they didn’t turn it off. Chapter 2 Sally insisted she was fine. Despite the initial shock of the crash, she had mostly returned to normal, but it was difficult to tell exactly how she was, strapped in that stretcher and with a collar tightly braced and immobilizing her totally. After a while of doctors examining her, poking, prodding, and reciting lists of tests they wanted to run, Sally felt mostly ignored as her mother did all the frantic talking and let the doctor answer once in a while with short calm sentences. Besides her seat belt bruises and a sore shoulder, Sally was given a clean bill of health. The doctor had wanted her to stay overnight, “just in case”, but Sally would have none of that, and her mother relented, worried that a hospital stay would have caused way too much drama for her family and friends. The doctor gave her mother some last instructions, some pills in case they were needed for the soreness – her mother also had the same bruising – and said she needed to monitor Sally for any evidence of undiagnosed trauma during the night. Waking her up a couple times in the night would do just fine. Once her mother signed Sally’s release, she was put on a wheelchair, much to Sally’s chagrin, and wheeled out to the taxi stand. Sally’s biggest worry, all the time in the hospital, had been her bladder. Mostly made to lie down and be still, she had been horrified at saying she needed to use the bathroom and given a bedpan, or being subject to some gross form of humiliating hospital way of using the bathroom that invalids were subject to. So, she remained silent and held her pee. But as she got closer to home, her only thought was the toilet she needed so desperately. The traffic lights seemed to be clocked against her bladder. Sally fidgeted in her seat, and her mother glanced at her, concerned. Her mother wouldn’t be too vocal about her worries, not yet. Not in front of the taxi driver. But she was really more worried about Sally’s mental state. How would she deal with the traumatic experience of the car crash? She herself had been horrified, but she felt she could deal with it, but she was concerned about Sally. She had remained very silent, sort of introverted on the whole issue. The doctor said there might be something about that, although he was too hesitant to even mention the possibility of PTSD. But She had her concerned. Sally extricated herself from the taxi, trying to manage the shoulder pain and general stiffness, added to the near-bursting bladder. It was starting to hurt now, but still she remained silent. Her mother stepped aside alarmed at Sally, as she pushed through the barely open front door, thinking she wasn’t feeling well. She thought maybe she was rushing to vomit, so she followed her all the way to the bathroom. Sally, in her urgency to use the toilet didn’t notice her mother following, and didn’t even close the door, so she quickly slid her clothes down to her ankles and let go as she sat on the toilet. Her mother stopped at the open door, in surprise. “Oh”, she said. Sally finally looked up, still relieving herself. “Mom! Do you mind?”, she said, holding her shirt down and trying to conserve some semblance of dignity. “Sorry! I didn’t realize! I thought you weren’t feeling well”. With that, she closed the door and walked to the living room. When Sally finished, she found her mother sitting on the sofa, and walked up to her. “You OK, mom?”, she asked, noticing her mother’s worried expression. Her mother stood up and hugged Sally. Sally hugged her back, both now coming to terms as to what had occurred. Chapter 3 - Worrying Sally was sleeping snugly against her mother when the alarm rang. She had it on low, so not to frighten Sally. The doctor had suggested she wake up Sally a few times during the night just to make sure she hadn’t suffered any minor concussion. She labored to get a commonsense answer from her teenage daughter even when awake, let alone in the middle of the night, yet she succeeded, and Sally rolled back to sleep. It was nice to have Sally sleeping on her bed, as it reminded her of Sally’s pre-teen years when she would sneak in the middle of the night and slip into bed with her. Since she had wanted to keep an eye on Sally during the night, she concocted the excuse of not wanting to be alone that night. Sally readily complied, secretly happy that she would not sleep alone. The shock of the crash had not really worn off, and she needed to feel close. Bridget, Sally’s mother, lay there sleepless going over the previous day’s events. She had been quite panicked herself, but she had managed to gear down her display of emotions in an effort not to get Sally all worked up. But Sally had seemed more… stunned, than panicked. That had made Sally docile when she insisted she be taken to the hospital to get checked out, but now she was thankful she had. Bridget turned over unable to sleep, trying to work herself into a doze, at least. The doctor had declared them both fine, but whispered she keep an eye on Sally for the next twenty-four hours. She should report any sudden changes, as loss of memory or dizziness at once. Bridget had even googled for information while waiting for results and asked the doctor about PTSD. The doctor wasn’t impressed at her research efforts, but only said to keep an eye on her and not to worry. So, Bridget would keep an eye on her. Monitor her moods, food intake… She worried that Sally, being the self-sufficient teen, would feel she was being overbearing and intrusive. Even though Sally was a teenager, she did need care and attention, and she had to do this herself, no thanks to her father who had left, thankfully before Sally could even remember. Bridget woke from dozing prompted by her alarm, and shook Sally awake, got an “I’m fine mom” groan, and figured that was good enough. This time she managed to fall asleep. Sally laid there, not quite managing to fall asleep. The strangeness of being in her mother’s bed came back, and she lay there thinking. Grateful to hear her mother asleep – she had been worried about her mother – she relived the scenes from the accident. The eighteen-wheeler closing in, her mother’s gasp… and her hitting the breaks. Skidding, barrier, crash. Barrier, crash. Crash. She rubbed her chest. That seatbelt burn had even left a mark. Thankfully it wasn’t summer yet, she reasoned. She would have looked weird in a bikini with the bruising on her chest. Thoughts of injury filtered in her sleepy, unguarded mind. Probably what had caused her more shock was the way the emergency workers treated her, strapping her into that contraption, immobilizing her. The ambulance ride. The siren. It just wouldn’t stop. In the hospital, they poked her. And she needed to pee. Really bad. It was probably worse because she had been strapped on a board. She feared that there would be no way for her to pee. What would they have done if she had asked to pee? Make her pee right there like an invalid? Pull her jeans down and make her pee into a pot? But they did take her clothes off, after all. But they were very professional and efficient about it. They tied a hospital gown around her neck and proceeded with the examination, poking, asking if she felt this of that, wheeling her into a room, where they slid her into a tunnel, where she was told to be still… She had wondered what would happen if she peed on the machine. Would she break it? That was the only funny thought she had had. But when the doctor said something about being fine, and wanting her to stay overnight, she determinately and eloquently stated that she was better being “fine” at home than at some hospital. The doctor had shrugged his shoulders, but still made her sit on the wheelchair to get to the taxi line. Sally’s last thought before she fell asleep, was that she had succeeded in holding her pee until she was home, despite her mother barging in on her with her pants down. What would tomorrow bring? Chapter 4 – Ooo-ber Sally was a restless sleeper. She often woke up with her bed covers rolled off and her pajamas askew, causing her to wake up in a chill. Today was no different, and as soon as situational awareness set in, she identified her mother’s bedroom, and her uncovered mother curled beside her, asleep. Sally guiltily heaved the bed covers and tucked her mother in and slid off the bed. … It was something o’clock, Bridget figured. Light was streaming in the windows, through the curtains. She realized she had slept in, and Sally was nowhere to be seen. Dread set in, as she imagined Sally suffering somewhere unseen as she lay there oblivious in her bed. Bridget jolted out of bed, and she almost crashed into Sally, who had just entered her room, holding a mug of coffee. “Morning mom”, said Sally brightly, holding out the mug for her. “Oh, thank you, honey”, said Bridget, in surprise. Sally had never made coffee for her, much less brought it to her in bed. “How are you feeling?”. “Mom, I’m not an invalid, OK? I’m fine”, she stated. You could almost visualize the roll of her eyes, her mother noted. “Just a little sore, nothing bad”, she said, wincing slightly as she sat next to her mother on the bed. Bridget reached over and pulled Sally’s pajama top down. It had a habit of rising up and exposing her back. “I should get you new pajamas, these are getting a bit tight”, she mused, sipping her coffee. Sally shrugged. She wouldn’t mind some new ones. “So, how are you, mom?”, she asked. “You pretend you are fine and all, but you were there too”, she stated. Bridget was taken aback, not used to being the focus of concern by her teenage daughter. “Don’t worry about me. I’m made of stone”, she answered, ruefully. “No, you’re not. I saw you yesterday”, she said, referring to her panic episode in the car. “And you look all worried and I feel like I am under a microscope”, Sally stated, frowning. “Well,” said Bridget, meditatively, “it has been a bit of a dramatic episode, hasn’t it? As a mother, it is only fair that I should look out for you”. Sally smiled. “Thanks for worrying”. She leaned over and gave her mother a cautious half-hug, careful not to spill her mother’s coffee. “You do a great job at mothering”. It was all Bridget could do not to cry on the spot. She returned Sally’s half-hug and shrugged, “You make it easy, girl”. … Trying to find a crashed car in a big city proved easier than she expected. Just a quick search on Google got her a phone number and an address, and after fiddling with her phone she summoned an Uber which would take her to her wrecked SUV, in hopes that her personal items would still be in the vehicle. The ride across town was silent and tense. She had carefully considered whether to take Sally with her or not, but uneasy at leaving Sally home alone after the ordeal, she concluded it would be better for them to stay together. Bridget was horrified at the state of the car. Sally, as of lately unperturbed at the whole ordeal, managed to cover her mouth in an effort to mute her gasp. “Looks bad, doesn’t it?” remarked the tow-truck enterprise manager. “Although, believe it or not, we’re all comforted to know you made it out in one piece”, ranted on the man, oblivious of the women’s distress. “Sorry if I stick around, safety and security, you know”, he said, as he went on to describe several other similar incidents which ended up in several forms of tragedy. He helped them get the truck open and get access to the glove compartment and get some other items from the car. Sally’s gym bag and cell phone where thankfully retrieved, amongst other things, and they were escorted back to the office as Bridget needed to observe some minor formalities. Most other paperwork would be handled by the insurance company. … The image of the crumpled SUV permeated their minds as both mother and daughter took the silent Uber ride home. They held their clammy hands tightly onto each other, and both were relieved to be back home in their comfortable living room, searching for words that described their mental storm. “That was, wow! Ugly”, breathed Sally, recovering from the moment. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t remember it being so… crashed, I guess”. “Don’t be sorry”, replied Sally, self-assured. “It is what it is”. “I still can’t my get mind around what happened. One moment, changing lanes, another, just… wham! I just lost control”, almost whispered Bridget. “It was an accident, mom. And you don’t know whose fault it was. And I don’t blame you!”, Sally said, reaching out to hug her mother. “Thank you, sweety”, she said, hugging her daughter in turn. “You said you’d get me new pajamas”, Sally observed, trying to change the conversation. “We don’t have a car anymore”, said Bridget. She was not used to having to rely on Uber. “Ooo-ber”, giggled Sally, mimicking Kirk from the Gilmore Girls. “Ooo-ber it will have to be”, said Bridget, sighing. Chapter 5 - Too shy to tell. Sally and Bridget browsed the girl’s pajama selection at the mall. They were at another retail store, and Bridget had pointed out a few sensible items to Sally, but Sally seemed unconvinced. She hadn’t even tried one yet. “Well?”, enquired Sally’s mother. “You do need pajamas”, she declared. “And I find nothing wrong with these. They would look good on you, too”, she stated, figuring Sally was concerned about looks. But Sally’s mind was elsewhere. From the corner of her eyes, she could see some other pajamas. Pajamas for younger kids. They looked so much cuddlier. Footed pajamas. Thicker material. She would never risk waking up in a chill, in those. Pity they were too small, she mused. Bridget carried on oblivious to Sally’s lack of interest, pointing out other options, designs, and combinations. Sally trailed back, not wanting to lose sight of the children’s section. Something about those pajamas had woken a yearning in her, she didn’t know why. Could she imagine wearing footed pajamas, like the ones made for children? Well, she figured she couldn’t decide if she would look funny or cute – or both, but she could imagine feeling comfortable, for sure. She could understand now why all the teen pajamas looked so unappealing. They were supposed to make her look like a small adult. An adult slept peacefully, not making a mess of her bed coverings, thus not awaking uncovered and chilled to the bone. Something since the accident had changed in Sally. Things she did and wanted to do had, until then, fueled her vision to show how grown up she was. Sweet fourteen but going on to 21. Young, but sensible. Petite, but stylish. Suddenly, she cherished her youngness. Sharing her mother’s bed had made her feel small, cuddly, cared for, loved. As for Bridget, she could tell by now something was different with Sally. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but sensing Sally’s apathy to shopping for pajama’s, she realized Sally had been quite clingy since the accident, very introverted and quiet. Even now, as she bombarded Sally with suggestions – she even offered the most expensive pajamas to her, Sally seemed distant and unsatisfied with the choices offered. She had that look on her like when she wouldn’t tell her she had won the top student award: Too shy to tell, but eager to communicate. “Hm, I wonder what’s going on”, Bridget asked herself. Maybe it was time for a shopping break and get some comfort food into her. That should make her talk. Chapter 6: Sleep Heaven “Now tell me what’s going on”, coaxed Bridget, gently. Sally had just finished the last of her hamburger. Her fries had been the first to go, as Sally liked them piping hot. So, with just a bit of her root beer left, Bridget thought now would be a good time to chat. And then, some dessert. “Huh?”, asked Sally, lifting her eyebrows. “Tell me what’s going with you. You seem to be wrestling with something deep in your mind, honey. I know your look. We were looking at clothes for you, of all things, and I know a mind in turmoil, at least I know yours, when I see it”. Bridget was silently reminding her daughter that it was OK to talk, as they had sometimes talked. Her first period, the birds and the bees, heck, even the first time she accidentally discovered masturbation, for goodness sakes. They had had great non-judgmental constructive and bond-strengthening talks. Probably this was going to be another one. Sally blushed slightly, probably remembering such talks as well. She was a bit older now, and what was going on her mind was something she herself didn’t even understand. “You’ll think I’ve gone crazy”, Sally said smiling ruefully, despite herself. “It’s a bit difficult to explain”, she began, trying to organize her thoughts as she talked. Her mother waited patiently. “Do you remember that one piece pajama I had when I was little?”, Sally piped. Bridget was taken aback. She nodded. “Uhm, let’s see, the purple one you outgrew?”, she asked, tentatively. That fleece footed one piece pajama had been a source of contention when Sally outgrew it. “The one you didn’t want to let go”. Sally had outgrown that pajama when she was five, so she had upgraded her into a two-piece pajama. “Yeah, I remember I never had anything as cozy as that one”, she remembered, wistfully. “Well, that one is long gone, honey”, said Bridget, not quite understanding what her daughter meant by it. “Yeah, I know. But I kept seeing the kid’s pajamas in the kid’s section, and suddenly all the pajamas we were looking at seemed cold and uncomfortable”. She made a face. “You must think I’m silly”, Sally concluded. “That’s not silly. I guess we remember stuff we enjoyed as kids”, trailed Bridget, trying to find something to tell her daughter it was OK to like different things. “But I’m not a kid anymore”, answered Sally resolutely. She shook her head. “Let’s go buy some real pajamas”. She pressed her lips and organized her tray to take it to the tray shelf. Bridget followed; relieved Sally had apparently resolved her own insecurities without further help from her. They returned to the previous store they had been in, and Sally was quick to choose and try out two stylish teen pajamas. All through the process, Sally’s mother felt uneasy. Sally was always very picky and enjoyed lengthening the process of purchasing clothes. It was normal. It was ingrained in her DNA as much as it was in her own. The patterns, the colors, the materials… But this time she had mechanically chosen the pajamas, tried them on and declared she liked them, and led her mother to the cash line. Bridget had a sudden inspiration. She fished out her cell phone and did some quick research. After a short while she put her phone back into her bag, and held both hands on Sally’s shoulder to turn her around. Sally winced at the lingering pain from the accident. “Oops, sorry, I forgot honey”, she said, and Sally turned around. “Let’s leave these pajamas where they were, I have a proposition for you”. Sally frowned. “Like, an offer I can’t refuse?”, she asked. Bridget led Sally out of the store, out of the shopping mall and into a taxi. “Mom, what’s going on?”, asked Sally, shocked at her mother’s behavior. Bridget gave the taxi driver an address Sally wasn’t familiar with. As the checkered minivan pulled out of the shopping mall and into traffic, Bridget winked at her daughter. “Just wait and see”. The address was an old strip mall in the center of town that had been reconverted into modern shops. There was an art gallery, a manga and anime figure collector’s store, and a used book store, and the one Bridget pointed out: “The Pajama Factory”, Your Sleep Heaven. “Wow”, said Sally, peering into the shop window, as Bridget reached the card over to pay. “How did you find this?”, she asked, as they stepped out onto the chilly sidewalk. “Google”, stated Bridget, proudly. Sally had been teaching her how she could find anything on “Google”. They opened the door and walked in. It almost looked like a children’s clothes shop… but yet, it wasn’t. Rows of different kind of pajamas and lounge wear, some colorful, some normal. But what called Sally’s attention were the pictures of young adults or teens wearing… one piece footed pajamas. Some were even fleece, and colorful, like the ones she used to have as a kid. She was almost in shock. “Wow, they make them for grown-ups?”, she almost whispered. “Looks like they do”, Bridget said, taken aback herself. “How may I help you, ladies”, said a soft male voice. “My name is Ryan”. They turned around. The man was in his mid-thirties, keen and helpful, and he looked a bit nerdish in his steel-rimmed glasses and trimmed beard. “Well, we don’t know yet”, answered Bridget, uneasy. “But we’re mostly curious about the kinds of pajamas you have here. Are they they real, or mostly for fun, like Halloween?”. The man was taken aback. “Come see for yourself”, he stated, in a quick recovery. “Let me see, we can begin with you”, he said, looking at Sally. “May I ask your name?”. “Sally”, she said. “Very well, Sally, which kind of pajamas are you most curious about?”, he asked, interestedly. Sally made a face. “Well, I don’t know…”, she hesitated. “First of all”, said Ryan, “the reason these pajamas are made is people buy them, and there is a whole industry behind this. So don’t be shy. See? These are super popular”, he said, emphasizing the last two words. He pointed to a tall rack of fleece footed pajamas, took a calculating look at Sally and fished through the rack. “How about…”, he paused as he took one of the rack. “This one. This should be your size”. Ryan held up a bright blue footed pajama. It was patterned with yellow stars, and a half-moon shone brightly on the side of the chest. She took it, and it felt soft and comfortable. She was impressed at the quality, it definitely didn’t feel like a halloween costume. Bridget reached out to touch it, and was satisfied it was a real pajama, but she was still taken aback at the nature of this business. “I never imagined there would be a demand for something like this”, she mused, mostly to herself. Ryan piped in. “It’s not like everybody sees us in our pajamas, right? So if we’re going to sleep, or just relax and lounge, like reading a book or watching a movie, we might as well wear what is most comfortable, don’t you agree?”, he asked, expecting an answer. Sally assented. Bridget though about it. “Yes, I guess it makes sense. We do that, you know, like wear our pajamas and lounge about, just us two, mind you”, she chuckled. “True. We all do that. There is clothing that is made for comfort, and not just physical comfort. We need to deal with heart comfort, feel safe, cuddle, feel taken care of”, Ryan expanded. Bridget was taken aback. “Man, you know how to sell pajamas”, she said, in admiration. “Please don’t think I’m manipulating you to…” Bridget cut him off. “No, I mean, what you said is right. You came to the heart of the matter, it makes perfect sense”. Sally was assenting. It made perfect sense to her. She took that as a cue and asked: “So, where are the fitting rooms?”, she asked, holding her two favorite footed pajamas. Chapter 7: Fuzzy Fuzzy. That’s how she felt. Sally had been relieved to find a secure and comfortable fitting room, with a real full-size door, a proper lock, hooks, a bench, and large mirrors. Pastel colors competed the ambience, and it was the kind of place one felt at ease getting… well, naked, actually. She hesitated at first, but the pajamas looked so inviting she wanted to full experience, as she never slept with underwear on. She had already decided to buy them, with her own money if necessary. She caressed the material in her hand and slipped her feet into the pajama legs. -- Meanwhile, Bridget was taking a tour of the shop by Ryan, their salesman, who was pointing out different pajama styles and sizes. When a shop assistant came requesting Ryan’s help for something, he left her on her own with an “I’ll be right back, feel free to roam”, and Bridget continued exploring on her own. She continued until she spotted a corner with a sign “Sleep accessories” and turned into the isle. She did a double take, because as much as she had grown accustomed now to grown-ups wanting to wear kids’ pajamas, what she saw left her flabbergasted. Rows of pacifiers, sippy cups… a size way too large for small children. As she went further into the isle, the structure changed, and now large plastic packages were lining the shelves. White plastic, some pastel colors, some decorated. Wait. Were they… diapers? She stood there, in shock. Bridget turned around, and spotted Ryan walking towards her. “Now I'm really curious about this”, she said, frowning. “Why would adults want to wear diapers?”, Bridget asked, waving her hand at the row of diapers. Ryan smiled, knowingly. “That's a great question, Bridget. There are actually a variety of reasons why grown-ups might wear diapers, and it's more common than you might think. It ranges from medical needs to personal preferences and lifestyle choices”. Bridget was surprised. “Medical needs? Like what?”. Ryan spoke up, in a serious tone. “One of the main medical reasons grown-ups wear diapers is due to incontinence. This can happen because of conditions like overactive bladder, urinary incontinence, trauma or after surgeries. These conditions can make it hard to control bladder or bowel movements, so adult diapers provide necessary protection and peace of mind”. “That makes sense”, Bridget reasoned. “I can see how that would be really helpful. But what about the “personal preferences and lifestyle choices”?, she inquired. Ryan smiled. “Well, there's a community known as ABDL, which stands for Adult Baby Diaper Lovers. For some people in this community, wearing diapers is a way to feel comforted and secure, kind of like revisiting a simpler time in their lives. For others, it's more about personal expression or even just the physical comfort of wearing a diaper”. Bridget gasped. “That's interesting”, she said in awe. “I didn't realize it was such a broad spectrum. But what about, like, well, I don’t want so sound judgmental. It has nothing to do with…”, she paused, trying not to say it. Ryan seemed do exude trustworthiness. Ryan helped her. “Pedophilia? No, nothing to do with that. There's a lot of stigma around the topic. Many people rush to judgment without understanding the full context. It's important to approach this with empathy and openness. Wearing diapers isn't indicative of perversion or a mental health issue; it's a personal choice for comfort, security, or necessity”. “I see. So, are there benefits beyond just managing, uhm… incontinence or personal comfort?”, she smiled now, more relaxed. “Definitely”, Ryan assented. “For people with medical conditions, it can significantly reduce stress and anxiety, allowing them to lead a more active and worry-free life. For others, it can be a form of self-care or a way to cope with stress. Adult diapers today are also designed to be discreet and comfortable, which helps a lot”, he said, pointing out to the more discreet white and light green and blue diapers. “Wow, so you’ve got footed pajamas, sippy cups, pacifiers… and diapers”, concluded Bridget. “Yep”, quipped Ryan. “The whole deal”, he said, waving his arm around the store. They eventually ended at the fitting room section of the store, and Ryan told her he’d be at the check-out if she needed anything. “Bridget, it's all about embracing different perspectives and supporting people, despite their different needs. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!” -- Sally didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror. She felt as though she was walking on air. She was trying on her second pajama, and the sensation was very satisfying. The inner material seemed to be as fuzzy and warm as the outer material, and it seemed to give her body a buzz, as much as a hug. She tried several positions, turning, twisting, bending over… She feeling the one piece pajama gave her, plus the footed ends, gave her a thrill her teenage body could barely describe. Knock-knock! Sally almost jumped in fright but quickly collected herself. She stood in a dignified position. “Who’s there?”, she asked, uneasily. “Me. Mom”, she heard her mother’s voice say from the other end of the door. Sally shook the lock on the door and finally managed to get it unlocked, and she stood behind the door as she let her mother in. Her mother drank the sight of her daughter in a footed one-piece pajama. She smiled. “You look cute”, she sentenced. Sally smiled shyly at her mother and twirled around for her. She almost blushed at the feeling of the warm pajamas caressing her naked skin. “Wow, Ryan wasn’t joking when he said it was for real”, Bridget said, in wonder. She spotted Sally's underwear lying on top of her folded clothes, and smirked inwardly. “Ryan?”, asked Sally, absentminded. “The salesman. They sure have a lot of, um, different stuff in this store”, Bridget mumbled. “Yeah, isn’t that cool?”, said Sally, still moving around in front of the mirror. “So, I take it you like the pajamas?”, Bridget asked Sally. “Yes, I like both”, Sally assented. “It looks good enough on you. I take it you tried the other one?”, asked Bridget. Sally nodded. Bridget thought about the other items in the store, the ones Sally hadn’t seen. She wondered what Sally would think about them. Sally’s mother left her daughter so she could get dressed again and waited outside. A plan was forming in her head. Chapter 8: Dangerous sport Sally couldn’t wait to get up to her room and find a privileged spot for her new pajamas in her expansive walk-in closet. As the afternoon turned into evening, Sally got more and more restless, and she wondered how early would be late enough for her to justify her getting her pajamas on, and lounging on the sofa with her mom later on as they watched something on Netflix, probably a Gilmore Girls episode. Bridget watched Sally as she browsed for a new car. Her lease agent had sent her a link with the vehicles they had on stock, but she was bored looking at cars. She forced herself to browse, as she did miss having her own car. She had just grown used to their sliver SUV, and suddenly she had to choose another one. Sally seemed restless. She kept checking her watch. Since the new Apple Watches required movement to light up the screen, it was easy to spot Sally checking the time, so she could tell there was something on Sally’s mind. She was pensive, stealing glances at the curved staircase leading upstairs. Bridget wondered how soon Sally would change into her pajamas, as she was curious to see how she behaved in them. Suddenly, Bridget realized Sally must be wanting to change into them, hence her restlessness. “Sally, honey, why don’t you change into your new pajamas, and come help me choose a new car?”, Bridget called out to Sally, who was absentmindedly flipping through some teenage magazine. Sally brightened up. “Already? Oh, OK, I guess”, she said, and happily skipped out of the room and up the stairs. Bridget followed her with her gaze and wondered at Sally’s change into being now such an easy-going youthful girl. Was that the pajamas, or was it the whole car crash aftermath? Sally came quickly down, feet padding on the marble staircase. She rushed into the living room, sliding the last feet on the polished hardwood floor next to her mother, letting herself fall onto the plush sofa. She was wearing the blue pajamas with the bright stars, and looked as cute as she did when she had been five. Sally sat next to her mother and cuddled next to her and looked into the laptop screen. They chatted of this and that, and nothing at all, as they browsed through a selection of vehicles. “They look all the same”, whined Sally, with her head on her mom’s shoulder. Bridget enjoyed that. Sally never cuddled next to her like that, and her head on her shoulder felt wonderful. “They look just like ours”, commented Bridget, in common sense. “Any car picks your fancy?”, asked her mother as they tried to choose one. Most were silver, grey or black, but a few were blue or green. “I want “wed” one”, said Sally suddenly, in a fake childish voice. Her mother chuckled. When Sally had been learning to speak, it was the first color she had named, and it had turned into a favorite: “Wed”. “Sorry, kiddo. No red ones”, stated Bridget, playing along. Sally felt an unexplainable thrill at her mother’s childish language. Then Sally had an idea. “Wait, let me see if we can filter this search”. She took her mom’s laptop and slid it onto her lap. She slid the cursor down past a series of numbers and options she didn’t really pay attention to and spotted the color section. She quickly clicked on the red dot and turned to her mom. “ “Wed” car!”, she exclaimed, gleefully. Her mother was taken aback. She had never imagined wanting a red SUV. She hadn’t known they even existed. And they were right here in the local dealer too. After a while, Sally had had enough car searching, at least till she was getting her own in a couple years. But then it wouldn’t be a boring SUV. For now, she needed to pee, and she needed it bad. As she pattered to the bathroom, a sense of uneasiness fell on her. She couldn’t explain why, it just didn’t feel right. As she reached the toilet, she realized she had never thought about using the bathroom in these pajamas. Was she, like, supposed to take them off all the way? She pinched the tip of the zipper and visualized it going all the way down, and then, she would have to… pull off the sleeves, and then, it would all have to go down… at least down to her knees. Even in the warm floor-heating bathroom such as this one, it wouldn’t be a problem, she reasoned to herself. But the indignity of it robbed the coziness the footed pajamas had offered until then. Sally would have debated over what to do, but the urgency for relief made her give into the awkward undressing and sitting naked on the toiled, as the footed pajamas pooled around her feet. She frowned as her bladder hissed into the toilet. She had never counted on this drawback. == Bridget could notice the change. They were watching Gilmore Girls on the sofa, but Sally had resorted to sitting stiffly by herself. As Bridget stole glances at Sally, she could see Sally was moody about something. “It couldn’t be her period”, she thought to herself, ruling that out. Somehow, she couldn’t bare Sally being like this. She hit the pause button. “You OK, sweety?”, asked Bridget gently. Her daughter turned; eyebrows raised. “What makes you think I’m not?”, she asked, slightly annoyed. “You were sitting stiffer than a board in a carpenter's shop”, she responded with witty warmth. That elicited a reluctant smile from Sally. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, just thinking, I guess”. “Dangerous sport”, answered Bridget. “Especially when it involves pajamas,” Sally added, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. Bridget tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Pajamas? What happened? Did they suddenly become the enemy?” Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I guess you could say that. I bought these new pajamas, and they looked so cute, and felt great too. But then I realized you need to strip off completely to use the bathroom, and well, that put me off. Like very off”. Bridget nodded sympathetically. “Ah, the perils of experimenting. You expect a cozy night in your dream pajamas, and instead, you get a chill when you need it less.” Sally couldn’t help but chuckle. “Exactly! And now I’m stuck with these pajamas that I don’t even want to wear. They’re comfy, but make going to the bathroom so… uninviting.” Bridget put a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Well, we could always have a pajama destruction party. Or, you know, just return them.” Sally looked up, her eyes brightening. “A pajama destruction party sounds oddly satisfying. But maybe I’ll just return them. Thanks, Mom.” Bridget smiled warmly. “Anytime, sweetheart. Just remember, even the worst pajamas can’t keep you down for long.” “They’re not the worst. They are the best, but… they let me down, I guess.”, she said, sighing. Bridget's eyes twinkled with understanding. “So, it’s more of a pajama betrayal than a pajama disaster?” “Exactly!” Sally laughed. “I can’t imagine not wearing them. I love them as much as I did when I was five. It’s just… the bathroom issue.” Bridget leaned back, her face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Well, you know, there’s a practical solution to this problem.” Sally looked at her with a mix of hope and skepticism. “Really? What is it?” Bridget's grin widened. “You could always wear pull-ups underneath. No need to wrestle with zippers in the middle of the night. Problem solved!” Sally burst out laughing. “Mom! That’s so ridiculous! Can you imagine?” Bridget joined in the laughter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be practical here! Think about it—ultimate coziness with no bathroom drama.” Sally wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “You’re hilarious. But I think I’ll pass on the pull-ups. Maybe I just need to find a new pair that’s equally cozy but more bathroom-friendly.” Bridget nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “Good plan. And who knows, maybe you’ll start a revolutionary trend wearing pull-ups under your pajamas.” Sally shook her head, grinning. “I’ll leave that innovation to someone else. Thanks for the laugh, Mom.”, she said, almost blushing. “Anytime, sweetheart. Remember, life’s too short to let pajamas get you down. Especially when there’s always a funny solution waiting in the wings.” Sally hugged her mom tightly. “You always know how to make me feel better. Thanks, Mom.” As she pushed play and relaxed, Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for her mom’s ability to turn a frustrating situation into a moment of laughter and love. But her mom’s suggestion, albeit comical, intrigued Sally. Chapter 9: Mac and Cheese. Sally tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The pajamas were absolutely comfortable and cozy, yet, for some stupid reason, she couldn’t get into the sleep zone. She lay on her back, slightly frustrated. “Pull-ups”, she whispered to herself. For some reason, that thought lingered in her mind. She recalled her mother’s mild frustration during her potty-training days. She eventually got the hang of it but was a bit lazy at night. Now, she remembered how her mother cleverly incentivized her: at five, she was upgraded to 'big girl' pajamas, trading the footed ones for regular tops and bottoms. This way, she could quickly pull them down and use the toilet, just like a big girl. So there, Sally thought. That’s why there was “something” missing. She associated her footed pajama memories with those cute Disney pull-ups. Sally frowned. “Cute?”, she thought. “Did she really think them as cute?”. She admitted they were, so she had the comfort factor plus the cuteness. She tried to imagine herself wearing one. She really couldn’t, she realized. They would be too small to fit her. They were made for children, and she was, well, a teenager. “But”, she reasoned, “I didn’t think they made footed pajamas for grown-ups either”. She tried to picture a large pull-up. But it was all a fantasy. She tossed and turned a bit more, and tried to figure out why she was obsessing herself over a silly joke her mother had made. Or was it? The mere possibility shocked her, and the adrenaline jolted her awake. Maybe, as a mother she felt it was her duty to satisfy Sally’s insecurities after the car crash. Sally realized her mother had gone overboard finding that shop where they sold footed pajamas for grown-ups. Maybe she wanted to go all the way and make sure Sally was well taken care in that aspect. Had she been testing her? What was she supposed to think? Sally drifted in and out of sleep, and woke up in a daze, clearly not having slept enough. The pajamas were definitely not the problem, Sally reasoned, as she felt as physically comfortable as she had ever been. But she was feeling the need to use the toilet and was procrastinating because she knew she would have to strip her pajamas almost all the way off. After a while dozing she got out of bed and shuffled into her ensuite bathroom so she could relieve herself. Once she was done, she figured she might as well get some breakfast. Sleep wouldn’t be coming at any rate, and it was already morning. She wiggled out of her footed pajamas, and once again, she felt her naked skin exposed to the elements. There were no elements, she told herself, and gingerly pulled on some panties, comfortable lounge pants and a thin sweater. She slipped on a rubber band tying her hair into a ponytail and walked out of her bedroom. Sunday mornings were quiet and lazy affairs. Her mother would surely sleep till past ten, and that guaranteed Sally most of the house to herself for a little over two hours. She got some granola and yogurt, and a glass of orange juice, and took that to the TV corner in the living room, where she switched on the TV and searched Netflix for a while, till she selected a travel documentary series. She ate her breakfast in silence, feeling herself relax on the leather sofa as she glanced at the chilly December flurries floating in the air. She curled herself on the sofa, carefully setting her empty bowl and glass by the side table. She laid her head on the thickly padded sofa arm and relaxed, finally drifting into a deep sleep. -- “When the toast has burned And all the milk has turned And Captain Crunch is waving farewell When the Big One finds you May this song remind you That they don't serve breakfast in hell” Sally was slow to react. The background music was familiar, but the context wasn’t. She vaguely remembered her mother using that song to wake her up in the morning a long time ago, but she wasn’t… in bed. Where was she? The sofa… she must have fallen asleep. A blanket? Her mother must have covered her. What time was it? Her sleepy attempts to make sense of what was going on were interrupted by her mother. “Morning sweetheart”, she exclaimed, sitting on the sofa by Sally’s feet. “I thought I’d get you up while it’s still morning, it’s almost midday”, she clarified. “Morning. I guess I fell asleep”, she murmured. “I didn’t sleep well last night”. “Why is that? Weren’t you feeling well?”, she asked, concerned at the teenager not sleeping well. She tried not to show too much overt concern for her daughter, but she was still looking for signs of PTSD in her. “I dunno”, Sally shrugged. “I was sleepy and all, I just couldn’t fall asleep. A lot of stuff in my mind, maybe”, she said, as last night’s meditations flared up once more. “What kind of stuff?”, inquired her mother. Sally clearly avoided the subject. “Nothing. What’s for lunch?”, she asked, suddenly hungry. “Mac and cheese”. Sally’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Really?” She absolutely loved mac and cheese, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any. Bridget was stunned. It had been more of a joke. She hadn’t planned on lunch yet, but memories of Sally’s childhood obsession inspired her to evoke the fact out loud. “Mac and cheese it is, then”, she smiled, patting Sally’s covered feet. She had a couple boxes of kraft in the pantry. -- Sunday was a slow day, and this one was particularly slow, as the bitter winter weather was finally making itself known. Bridget and Sally couldn’t complain, since snow didn’t come that often, so when it did they wrapped themselves in blankets and drank hot chocolate, despite the generous climate control system their sprawling house. As Sally lay curled on the sofa reading, Bridget was browsing a magazine on her iPad, but her mind was drifting towards Sally. Once again, she had encouraged Sally to slip into her footed pajamas early, to which she readily complied. The mac and cheese moment also relied on her mind, connecting instances of an infantile Sally, and she realized Sally had become a whole lot more confident and carefree since the accident. She relished cuddling and evoking childlike behavior, yet she was… grown-up about it. A couple more things came to mind. Sally hadn’t seemed the least bit offended or put-off at her mention of pull-ups. Any teenager would have been indignant and disgusted. But she had “passed” on the offer with a laugh. Like an embarrassed laugh, she mused. Also, there was the “wed” car. Sally seemed not to care what car they were going to get, as long as it was “wed”. Bridget smiled. That would be an easy one, she thought. “Now, let me see about those pull-ups”, she thought, smiling ruefully. She slid her finger up the screen and selected the Amazon app. Chapter 10: Package School day was always school day. Even a couple days after the accident, Sally was grateful for returning to a semblance of normality. Even with the leftover pain on her shoulder, she felt ready to take on the world. She crawled out from bed. She had kicked her covers off during her sleep – as usual, but this time the incredible coziness of her footed pajamas had kept her warm and secure… just as they had when she was small. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she walked past on her way to the ensuite bathroom. She liked the way she looked. In the bathroom she frowned, as once again she zipped her footed pajamas all the way down to her crotch, pushed them down from around her shoulders and slid her arms off the sleeves, rolling down the pajamas to her knees as she sat on the toilet. She was rewarded by a strong hissing, and she tried to relax on the toilet as she let business take its course. Toilet time had always been like a therapy time for her to think the day ahead, read a magazine – she mostly read magazines in the toilet – and relax her bowels and bladder. Howbeit she felt a bit cheated that the cozy pajamas didn’t offer any level of protection and comfort when she needed to be… comfortable. Once again the image of pull-ups came to mind, and she wondered why she couldn’t remember the feeling of the padding between her legs. Had it been so long ago? What would they feel like now? She pushed such feelings away from her mind and finished her business quicker than usual. She zipped herself up and washed her hands and face in the sink. As she fished in her closet for her school uniform she heard her mom’s customary knock – “I’m up, mom” – and she laid out her panties, bra, white blouse, navy-blue V-neck sweater and navy-blue knee-length conservative school skirt. She scanned the weather report and looked out the window at the gray sky. She opted for her black tights and comfortable black shoes. Breakfast was a quick affair, and since Sally’s mother needed to run some errands downtown, they shared an Uber and Sally got dropped off at school. -- “Amiga!”, yelled out Katrina, Sally’s eccentric Colombian friend. Naturally tanned skinned and long dark curls glowing with happiness. “You are alive”, she exclaimed, forcing Sally into a tight embrace. Sally, still tender from the seat belt sore winced, causing Katrina to apologize profusely. “Sorry, I didn’t remember you were hurt!”. Katrina’s attentions on Sally were creating a situation Sally had been hoping to avoid. Boys and girls started staring and asking questions, and Sally had the impression they were around her deathbed or something like that. “I’m fine, OK?, she stated. “Just a sore shoulder due to the seat belt, nothing more”, she continued. She slid away from Katrina and sat next to her desk, as she responded classmates’ rumors: “No, she hadn’t lost consciousness; No, she hadn’t broken her collar bone; No, she hadn’t spent all weekend in the hospital”. It was bad enough when people believed rumors in general, but it was unacceptable when they were building up rumors on oneself! Thankfully the teacher took matters into account, and called for order so the class could begin, but not before - much to Sally’s chagrin – wishing her a quick recovery from her “terrible experience”. -- The day went on as most school days went. At lunch Sally sat with Katrina and Clara. Being more of an introvert, Clara seemed to calm Katrina down, and the two of them enjoyed grilling Sally as to the car accident, and eventually got to talking of the aftermath. Sally did her best to deviate the topic more into her mother getting a new car, than on hypothetical phycological disturbances that stem out of traumatic experiences. Easygoing and level-headed, Sally was sort of in-between both girls. She would encourage Clara to speak out for herself and would challenge Katrina’s volatile opinions. “So, what did you do this weekend”, asked Clara quietly, curious to know, since Sally seemed quite unfazed by the accident. “Hm, mostly nothing, just relax and prove to my mom I didn’t have a brain hemorrhage or something of the sort”, she huffed, giggling. “She kept looking at me like I was going to faint at any moment”, she explained to the amused girls. “Oh, we did go shopping, so I did get out and stuff”. It was Katrina’s turn to be curious. “Shopping? Where, what, anything nice?”, she asked, in her expressive manner. Sally was suddenly hesitant. Pajamas weren’t the coolest things to talk about, least of all the ones she had bought. “Nothing, just stuff I needed, pajamas, nothing spectacular”, she said in dismissal. “I love pajamas!”, exclaimed Katrina. “Where’d you get them? Victoria Secret?”, she asked, boastful as she was of everything worldly. Sally grimaced. “Just warm pajamas, mostly. A place called “Pajama Factory”, or something like that”, she mumbled, unable to invent a lie, hoping to satisfy Katrina and hoping neither girl had heard about the place. “Warm pajamas are boring”, said Katrina, dismissively. “But they are comfortable”, stated Clara, wisely. “Thanks, Clara”, said Sally, thankful Katrina didn’t seem interested in her pajamas, but happy to be able to defend her choice. “Comfortable and warm. No temperature control can beat comfy PJ’s when it’s freezing outside”, she assented and glanced towards the flurries visible from the large windows in the school dining room. -- Clara caught up to Sally as she was walking out of school. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I love the Pajama Factory too”, she confided. “Katrina thinks she’s so cool talking about Victoria Secret, but I agree with you in that comfy pj’s are the best. Especially the footed ones”, she remarked, holding on to Sally’s arm as they walked. Sally was pleasantly surprised. “Wow, I wouldn’t have thought you were the kind of person who liked them”, she stated. “I don’t think Katrina would think it’s cool”, she giggled. “Katrina sleeps in panties and t-shirt”, huffed Clara. “At least that was the extent of her imagination at that sleepover you didn’t come to”, she said, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. “Yep, that’s her”, stated Sally. “But I am guessing you didn’t wear your footed pajamas in front of her”, said Sally, ruefully. “No, but she thought my Stich pajamas were “dreadfully cute”, as she put it”, Clara said, smiling. “Oh, they probably were. I love pajamas”, said Sally. “Well, don’t miss our next sleepover”, she answered. “Maybe if we wear our footed pajamas together she won’t laugh at us as much”, said Clara, laughing. “But maybe not”, she said, hesitantly. “She’d think we’re babies”. The girls made their way to the exit, talking about footed pajamas and other lounge wear, until Clara got into her bus and Sally made her way into hers. No matter how private and expensive the school was, they didn’t seem to get any better busses, Sally thought to herself as she sat onto the cheap seating material. Prison busses, that’s what she called them, much to her mother’s amusement. Soon Sally was dropped off in front of her house, and she approached the house from the walkway she saw a car she didn’t recognize parked on the driveway. “Wed car”, she said to herself, smiling. A gleaming red brand-new SUV was parked next to the garage, with no license plates, just a temporary paper registration attached to the window. “Hey mom, I’m home!”, said Sally, pulling off her jacket and hanging it in the closet. “I saw the “wed car”!”, she yelled. “Surprise”, Bridget said, smiling and hugging her daughter. “I went to pick it up today, come see it!”. Both mother and daughter spent some time admiring the red SUV, but soon the cold weather drove them inside. Sally walked into the kitchen and immediately saw the Amazon package on the table. She picked it up thinking, since it was unopened, it must be hers, even though she didn’t remember having ordered anything recently. She saw the name on it. “Oh, it’s yours, mom”, she called out. Her mother was right behind her. “No, it’s actually yours”. Sally was taken aback. “What is it?”. “Open it”, instructed Bridget. “Something you might want to give a try”. Sally went into the stress of finding scissors or something safe to open the package. Why didn’t they have something easily at hand for Amazon packages? Finally, she found the kitchen scissors and slit the tape. Sally was perplexed at first. Two purple packages were tucked inside the box. “Sanitary pads? But she bought her own”, she thought to herself. She frowned. She could only see the top of the packages and thought they looked like her mother’s thicker pads. She looked up. “Are you sure this is mine”, she questioned her mother, who was looking expectantly. “Absolutely. Take a package out”, she coaxed. Sally shrugged. She pulled a package out. She was speechless. “I thought you might want to try these with your new pajamas, see how they work”, her mother said, winking at Sally when she looked up frowning. Sally’s jaw dropped slightly. “Pull-ups? Isn’t this kind of… crazy?”, she hesitated, trying to think how she was supposed to react. “Will they even fit me?”, she challenged, trying to make sense of this. Yet, deep inside she could feel warmth, comfort, security. The “Goodnites” package felt tight in her hands, like begging to be opened. She looked at her mother, who was intently studying Sally’s reaction. “Mom, what’s this about?”. She giggled. “Some kind of joke?”, she asked, frowning slightly. Bridget smiled. “It can be”, she stated, in a conciliatory way. “But you can also try them out and see how they feel with your pajamas, sort of get the full experience. Comfort and security.”. Sally made a face. “Wow, you went through all the hassle of actually buying these…”, she paused. “And, they… wow, these should fit me really well”, she concluded, pointing out at the “95-140 lbs.” XL sizing. She stared at the sleeping teenage girl on the package. “Nighttime underwear”, she read out loud. “So, I am supposed to just, like wear them, or…”, she opened her eyes wide realizing the implications. “Like, use them?”. “Honey, it’s totally up to you. I felt torn when you were disappointed with your pajamas, so I thought I’d give you one more chance to feel great in them. Now, if you don’t like the idea, we can trash these – well, I mean, I’ll give them to charity – and forget about this, OK? I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to see you happy, that’s all”. “I am happy”, replied Sally. “What makes you think I wasn’t”, she asked, pained. “Nothing. You were disappointed about the pajamas, but other than that I guess I am being overly protective, especially after the accident and all…”, Bridget faltered. Sally set the Goodnites package on the kitchen counter and stepped over to her mother, throwing her arms around her. “I love you, mom. I’m alright, really”. Mother and daughter separated. “So, what is it going to be?”, asked Bridget, glancing at the Goodnites package. “I’ll think about it”, said Sally, grabbing the packages and taking them up to her bedroom. Chapter 11 - Empowered Sally sat on her bed, her mind whirling with thoughts about her Goodnites. It seemed like such a strange concept for someone her age, but as she thought more about it, the idea started to make more sense. She opened the package of Goodnites and held on to it, unsure of what to do. She had been thinking. She imagined scenarios in her head, scenarios where wearing a Goodnite could actually be practical, besides using under her footed pajamas. Like during a long road trip with her mother when stopping for bathroom breaks wasn't always convenient. The movies were another obvious choice. Or during exams at school when she often felt so nervous she could barely concentrate. "For students, for athletes - she thought of anxious moments at the volleyball court -, for anyone feeling overwhelmed," she mused aloud, considering the broad range of teens who could potentially benefit from Goodnites. "But would it really work for me?" she wondered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she contemplated. The thought of wearing something so different from what she was used to felt odd, yet the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like it could actually help. "Comfort and security," she whispered, repeating the words from her mother. The idea of having that sense of security, of knowing that she had everything under control even in stressful situations, was appealing. With her new pajamas. That would make everything all right. A playful and grown-up strategy to take things easy. Sally shifted on her bed, her thoughts moving to the practical aspects. "Routine and structure," she murmured, considering how having a set routine could help ease her anxiety. The idea of breaking down the process into smaller, manageable steps sounded comforting. Her mom knew a lot about psychology, and although far from being anxious – so she thought, Sally appreciated her mom’s counsel on everything. "And the act of changing them..." she trailed off, thinking about how the repetitive motion could be calming. It had calmed her as a child. From soaked pull-ups to a dry one, in seconds. The idea of finding solace in something as simple as changing a pull-up felt strange yet oddly comforting. “But I have to pee in them before I change them”, she murmured to herself. She was amazed it didn’t disgust her. She took a Goodnite out of the package and opened it up. It looked absorbent. More so than the pull-ups she remembered wearing when she was little. She assumed they would be absorbent, since they were made for teens. “That’s what they are made for”, she concluded. She imagined a big factory churning out thousands of Goodnites just for teens like her. There had to be a bunch of teens wearing Goodnites out there. She wondered who they were. Finally, she thought about the sense of control that wearing Goodnites could provide. In a world where everything often felt chaotic and overwhelming, the idea of having control over something, even if it was as mundane as when to change a pull-up, sounded incredibly empowering. With a determined nod, Sally made up her mind. "Maybe it's worth a try," she said to herself, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "I might be surprised at how much it can help. Heck, why not? Why the heck not? She smiled at her own determination and threw caution to the wind. She was going explore her ‘little side” and put one on. -- Bridget sat on the sofa, with Sally cuddled next to her. As they watched another episode of Gilmore Girls, she mulled over the decision she made to buy Sally the Goodnites. It was an unconventional choice, she admitted to herself, but as she pondered Sally's perspective, she began to see the logic in it. She imagined the scenarios Sally had mentioned - the long road trips, the movie outings, the stressful exam days. As a mother, she understood the need for practical solutions to everyday challenges. And if Goodnites could offer Sally comfort and security during those moments, then perhaps it was indeed the right decision. Bridget also considered Sally's need of routine and structure. She knew that Sally often struggled with anxiety, despite her outward confidence. If incorporating Goodnites into her routine could provide even a small sense of control and calmness, then it was a strategy worth exploring. It had all started with the footed pajamas. She wondered where that would take Sally. Would it be a long rabbit hole? But what struck Bridget the most was Sally's mention of embracing her "little side." It wasn't a concept she was entirely familiar with, but she trusted Sally's judgment. If wearing Goodnites allowed Sally to feel more at ease with herself, to find solace in something as simple as changing a pull-up, then who was she to stand in the way of that? With a soft smile, Bridget affirmed her decision. She wanted Sally to feel empowered, to navigate adolescence with confidence and self-assurance. And if that meant embracing unconventional solutions like Goodnites, then so be it. After all, parenting was about supporting your child in whatever ways they needed, even if it meant stepping into uncharted territory. Feeling a sense of reassurance wash over her, Bridget whispered to herself, "Yes, I do imagine Sally wearing Pull-ups, and I believe it's the right decision. She deserves to feel comfortable and secure, no matter what." -- Sally relaxed next to her mother. She had been very nonchalant at Sally’s statement that she was wearing the Goodnites under her footed pajamas, and that she wanted to try out her “little side”, she had said, with a shy laugh. When her mother had been surprised, even slightly dubious at Sally’s decision, Sally had enumerated additional perks at wearing the disposable undergarments, including wearing them in normal settings. Sally wiggled as she got used to the new underwear under her pajamas. She had loved the sensation of getting naked and stepping into the Goodnite, sliding it up her legs and feeling it enclose her crotch. It brought a very strong déjà vu sensation, clearly from her childhood time. Slightly bulky, though not uncomfortably so. She even looked adorable, she mused. Then, she tried her pajamas over the Goodnite. As she zipped herself up, the Goodnite disappeared, and Sally gave the first tentative steps. They didn't really make noise and they were pretty discrete. When she had finally walked down to the living room, her mother hadn’t even realized she had them on, and she even remarked them to be invisible. But there was one thing on her mind, and it was on the purpose the Goodnites were made for. She was supposed to wet her Goodnites. There was no point in wearing her pretty Goodnites and… well, not wetting them at some point. Obviously she was fully potty trained, so she had to think how she was going to do that. She was not going to lie here with her head resting on her mother’s lap and just let go. She couldn’t imagine even being able to. Chapter 12 – Triggers Sally wasn’t the least bit sleepy when they called it a night, each going to their respective bedrooms. Her heart was in a flutter, but she was determined. Her nightly bladder was going to be emptied into her pull-up. Sally realized that being fully dressed – albeit in her footed pajamas – wasn’t the best idea to try Goodnite for the first time. She planned to help herself as much as she could to wet herself voluntarily. Besides, what if it leaked? She felt goosebumps as she stripped off her pajamas, and not because the bathroom was cold. The heating system kept it wonderfully cozy. Standing there in only her pink and purple Goodnite she looked at herself in the large mirror and smiled at the infantile attire. Thankfully nobody could see her, she was safe from prying eyes, enclosed in the privacy of her ensuite bathroom. Sally wondered at other teenage girls, just like her, a turmoil of emotions, making sense of their teenage life in their secret inner sanctum, embarking in a journey of self-discovery. Like writing a mystery novel where the main character is oneself, balancing decisions and discovery, seeking to tap the expansive potential trapped within. And yet, here she was, trying to pee in a pull-up. She stood with her legs apart and tried to let go. When nothing happened, she bent her knees slightly, trying to relax her bladder till she finally felt a timid release spilling out into her Goodnite. Elated, she tried to relax even more, and soon a steady stream was hissing into her pull-up. Transfixed, she watched the Goodnite swell as it filled up, feeling it sag slightly. She stood up straighter as she felt the pressure subside and stood still as she released the last trickles into the pull-up. Her heart was beating like a jackhammer, and it took her a while to regain her senses. She looked at herself in the mirror. A blushing teenager wearing nothing but a soaked Goodnite. She touched her crotch, tentatively. It felt warm, spongey. She pressed a bit harder, felling the now damp material press into her skin. She bit her lip as unknown sensations coursed through her body. She felt around the edges looking for leaks. There were none. She took a step, and then another, slowly walking around her large bathroom. The Goodnite felt dry yet warm, bulky yet not intrusive. She stood in front of the sink and figured she might as well get ready for bed. She brushed her teeth, while she considered her image on the mirror. She looked cute, funny, yet oddly alluring. She took her time flossing and then used her mint mouthwash. All the time she felt the Goodnites secure on her waist, holding the padding between her legs. She let a leftover trickle of pee into her Goodnite, renewing the warmth between her legs, and she marveled at how easy it had suddenly become. She realized the wet Goodnite would have to come off. She definitely wasn’t going to sleep in it. Besides, she had to take a shower. As she reached the sides of her Goodnites to pull them down like normal panties, she remembered the pull-ups she used when she was little were made to rip on the sides. She held on to the side of her Goodnite and pulled on it with her fingers. It ripped a little bit, so she pulled on it harder, and saw the Goodnite coming off in her hands. Satisfied, but pressing her legs on the Goodnite to hold it in its precarious position, she ripped the other side with more confidence, and let the soaked Goodnites fall onto the bathroom tiles. What was she supposed to do with that now? The first option was to just throw it in the garbage bin right here in her bathroom, but that was here mostly for sanitary pads, and little bits like her dental floss. The swollen Goodnite would take most of the space and would end up stinking the place. Not to mention Dolores’ shock – the cleaning lady - when she came to clean the bathroom. No, she needed something else. She fished in her bathroom closet and retrieved a roll of plastic garbage bags, the ones that lined the bathroom garbage bin. She stuffed the Goodnite in and tied a knot on the bag. She left it by the door and stepped into the shower. The shower was a time of relaxation and let the warm water calm her, as she lazily soaped her body and thought of what she had just experienced. “Infantile” was the first word that came to mind. “Daring”, “fun”, “exhilarating” … she was at loss for words to describe it. The physical sensations coursing through her body while using, even feeling her Goodnite were hard to describe. Even as she soaped carefully between her legs, she couldn’t help but remember warm bulk pressing her nether region. She forced herself to stop, as the accumulated steam informed her she had been too long in the shower. She dried up, wrapped herself in a towel and went into her bedroom. She almost automatically walked to her bed, took out another Goodnite, and slid it on. It felt great to have a dry pull-up, after the one she had soaked. Now that she had experienced one, she felt a lot safer in one. She slid up her pajamas and zipped up, remembering suddenly about the discarded Goodnite in the garbage bag. She figured the garbage disposal in the garage would be best, as that would be taken out the driveway in the morning and taken away by the truck. Walking across the large dark house was a strange experience, as she rarely ventured out of her bedroom at night. She never had to, as her bedroom had everything she needed, including ensuite bathroom, walk-in closet, a large desk with her laptop and her own TV. So, pattering in her footed pajamas across the house, down the stairs, and across the foyer, she reached the garage door. The garage was mostly dark, but the reflection of the “wed” SUV made her smile. She lingered a while taking in the form of the brand-new car. Beside it, next to the garage door was the disposal bin on wheels. She opened the cover and dropped the garbage bag into it. “Sally? Is it you?”, asked her mother’s voice from the door, frightening her slightly. Sally flushed red, embarrassed. “Uhm, yeah mom, I’ll be right out”, she squeaked. “Everything all right?”, asked Bridget, turning the garage light on. “I happened to hear you coming down and wondered if you were all right”, she said, frowning. “Everything all right, I was just throwing out some garbage”, she said, hoping a simple answer would satisfy her inquisitive mother. “In the middle of the night?”, her mother inquired, eyebrows arched. Sally made a face. She stepped out of the garage and her mother closed the garage door. “It was a wet pull-up, I didn’t want to stink my bathroom”, she confessed, turning redder. Her mother paused. “Oh”, she said, surprised. “Was that… on purpose, then?”, she asked. Sally nodded. “I wanted to try them”, she whispered. “Oh”, her mother said again, startled at first, but composing herself. “I see, well, of course, and I take it they work?”, she asked. Sally nodded. “So, what do you think?”, Bridget asked, coaxing an answer from her reluctant daughter. “Do they solve the pajama problem?” Sally nodded again. “I guess so”, she finally said. “It’s sort of strange, but it feels OK”, she conceded. “Good girl!”, Bridget exclaimed. She patted her daughter’s bottom. “Now, get your diapered butt up to bed”, she said. Sally flushed with pleasure at her mother’s “good girl” exclamation. She couldn’t explain why. The “diapered” reference didn’t escape her notice either. As she climbed the stairs with her mother and got into bed, she reflected on those words, as she felt herself falling asleep with a smile on her lips. Chapter 13 – “Good girl” Sally groggily slid out of bed as her bladder signaled the need for release. She had trained herself to do that as a growing child, overcoming laziness in exchange for a dry bed. The clock read four a.m., and the instant Sally stood up, she felt the Goodnites, snug under her footed pajamas. She stopped. Unsure of what to do, she pondered the sequence of events that brought her to this moment where she was wearing Goodnites under her pajamas. The point had been to not have to suffer through the inconvenience of using the bathroom in her footed pajamas. Now that she knew the Goodnites were fine to use – the proof thereof neatly stashed in the garage garbage – she was woken up by the sudden rush of adrenaline at what she was about to do. Could she really? Sally was momentarily gripped by a feeling of indecision. But it went away. Empowered by her resolve, she sat back down onto her bed. She wanted the full experience this time. She laid down on her back and pulled the bed covers over her chest. She lay there still. This was very different to her peeing in the Goodnite the previous evening. She had been standing up – well, mostly – and naked except for her Goodnite. Now, she was fully dressed and in bed. But she forced herself to relax, closing her eyes and imagining the sound of her bladder trickling into the toilet, continuously, until… there, as soon as the first timid burst of pee escaped into her Goodnite, the rest flowed out. Just like the previous evening. With her heart thumping, Sally felt herself flood the Goodnite. Her pee started flooding her bottom area, and she felt it pool as it saturated for a while as she lay still and felt it being absorbed by the padding. As her bladder finished emptying she was struck by the wet bulk under her bottom, which was expanding between her legs. It was a while until she dared to move, only to slide her hands over her pajama looking for wetness. She opened her legs and searched her crotch area, lifting her bottom and sliding her hands under there. Although her Goodnite felt precariously soaked, she couldn’t find any wetness, so she gradually relaxed and felt her heartbeat gradually recede. She felt her body relax, as she basked in the aftermath of a wonderful sensation. Pure bliss relaxed and comfortable. Ah, the convenience of not having to get up in the middle of the night! -- Sally woke up minutes before her alarm rang. She never remembered waking up so relaxed. She soon realized why: she didn’t need to use the toilet! She frowned, feeling an unfamiliar sensation. She incorporated herself in bed and suddenly remembered. She had wet her Goodnite. A thrill of excitement coursed through her, and she pawed her crotch, feeling the moist bulk between her legs. It was squishy, but firm. She pressed a little harder. “Hmm”, she thought. “It does feel good”, she concluded. She got out of bed and went to wash her face in the bathroom. She gave a sleepy smile at the girl in the mirror, and washed her face with cold water, dried herself with the towel and shook some hair strands loose. The wet Goodnite hung well from her hips and wasn’t even visible due to her footed pajamas. Except for the back, she noticed. The footed pajamas sported an elastic band helping to hold the one-piece snugger to the body. The wet pull-up bulk was visible, at least for anyone who knew her butt. -- Sally padded into the kitchen; her new pajamas adorned with the Goodnite her mom had bought her. Bridget was already bustling about, preparing breakfast with a smile that matched Sally's groggy morning expression. "Morning, sweetie," Bridget greeted, glancing up from the frying pan. "Sleep well?" Sally nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, surprisingly well. These pajamas are so comfy." Bridget chuckled softly. "I'm glad you like them. And what about... you know?" Sally blushed faintly, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "The pull-up? It's actually not bad. Kinda convenient." Bridget grinned knowingly. "Told you it might be worth a try. Scrambled eggs for breakfast?" Sally nodded, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. "I've got that history class today, so I need something to wake me up." Bridget nodded as she poured milk into Sally's bowl. "You'll do great. Oh, by the way, I have meetings downtown later. Want a lift to school in the new car?" Sally's eyes lit up. “Wed” car! "Definitely! Riding in style! A lot better than the prison bus". Bridget chuckled. "You bet. And after school, we can grab dinner together." "Sounds like a plan," Sally replied, taking a spoonful of scrambled eggs. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "Mom, thanks for suggesting the pull-ups. They're actually... kinda nice." Bridget turned to face Sally fully, a warm smile on her face. "You're welcome, honey. I'm just glad they're working out for you." "Yeah," Sally said thoughtfully. "It's like... I feel more relaxed, you know?" Bridget nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I get it. Sometimes it's the little things that make a difference." Sally nodded in agreement, appreciating her mom's support. As they continued their breakfast together, Sally couldn't help but feel grateful for her mom's thoughtful suggestions and their easy conversations, even about the most unexpected topics. Later, as they were finishing up breakfast, Sally hesitated for a moment before speaking softly. "Mom, there's something else I should tell you." Bridget paused, turning her attention fully to Sally. "What is it, sweetheart?" Sally took a deep breath, feeling a touch of embarrassment. "Well, um... last night, I... I actually wet the pull-up." Bridget's expression softened immediately; her eyes full of reassurance. "Hey, it's okay, Sally. No need to feel bad about it. That's what they're there for." Sally nodded, animated by her mom's understanding. "I know, but I just didn't expect it. It was weird. I did it on purpose, in bed, when I woke up needing to pee. I just… went”, she said, in a daze. Bridget reached out, squeezing Sally's hand gently. "I understand, sweetie. Don't worry about it. You're handling everything really well." Sally managed a small smile, grateful for her mom's comforting words. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate you always being so understanding." Bridget smiled warmly. "That's what moms are for, right? To be here for you, no matter what." After a moment of silence, Sally hesitated before asking tentatively, "Mom, does it... bother you that I wet the pull-up?" Bridget shook her head gently. "Not at all, honey. You're a good girl, and that's what diapers are for—to make things easier and more comfortable for you." Sally felt a rush of excitement at her mom's words. She was also relieved. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure." Bridget leaned in, brushing a stray hair from Sally's face. "You don't ever have to worry about that with me, sweetheart. I'm here to support you, no matter what." Sally nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Thanks, Mom. I love you." Bridget smiled, pulling Sally into a hug. "I love you too, sweetheart”, she said, swatting Sally’s padded bottom. “Now, let's finish up here so I can get you to school on time. And don’t forget to change that wet pull-up!" As they cleared the breakfast dishes together, Sally couldn't help but feel grateful for her mom's unwavering support and understanding, especially in moments that felt a bit awkward or challenging. Feeling reassured, Sally let go one more stream of pee into her already wet pull-up, for good measure. -- Sally stood in front of her closet, her fingers tracing the familiar texture of her school uniform. The morning sunlight filtered through her window, casting a warm glow on the neatly hung clothes. As she began to dress, her mind wandered back to the conversation with her mom earlier. "Good girl." The words lingered in Sally's thoughts. It wasn't the first time her mom had used that phrase, accompanied by a gentle smile or a pat on the shoulder. Sally liked it; it made her feel affirmed and cared for in a way that transcended their daily interactions. But today, there was something else that struck her—her mom's mention of "diapers" in reference to the pull-ups. She had used the same words last night. And she said to “change” that pull-up. Like she was going to wear another one, like to school? She giggled at the thought, and dismissed it. Sally furrowed her brow, though, puzzling over the choice of words. Pull-ups were different from diapers, weren't they? Diapers were for babies, or for people who couldn't control their bladder. Pull-ups were more discreet, designed for older kids and teens who might need a bit of extra help at night. Yet, her mom's casual use of the term "diapers" had stirred a new thought in Sally's mind. They certainly didn’t make full-on diapers her size, now? Was her mom hinting at something deeper? Was she suggesting that using the pull-ups meant more than just convenience—that it was a way of being taken care of, of being seen as a "good girl" who could rely on her mom for comfort and support? As Sally buttoned up her uniform shirt, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a subtle message in her mom's words. Maybe it wasn't just about the practicality of the pull-ups but about the emotional reassurance they provided. It was a thought that both comforted and intrigued her. Finished dressing, Sally smoothed down her skirt and took a deep breath. She glanced at herself in the mirror, thinking about the day ahead. History class, riding to school in the new SUV, and perhaps a deeper understanding of what her mom meant by being a "good girl" in unexpected ways. With a newfound curiosity, Sally headed downstairs, eager to start her day yet also mulling over the philosophical implications of her mom's loving words. Chapter 14 – Pajamas and Politics Sally, Katrina, and Clara dragged themselves into history class, each girl mentally preparing for the seemingly endless lecture ahead. Mr. Briggs, their super serious and patient teacher, was already at the front of the room, meticulously setting up his notes. "Today, we’ll be discussing the formation of political parties in early America," Mr. Briggs began in his usual monotone voice. Katrina slumped in her chair and whispered to Sally, "Why does he make everything sound like a bedtime story?" Sally stifled a giggle. "Because he thinks we need help falling asleep." Clara, always the diligent student, tried to focus but couldn’t help smiling at her friends' comments. "Shh, we have to pay attention," she whispered, though her tone lacked conviction. Mr. Briggs turned to the class. "Who can tell me about the Federalists?" Katrina raised her hand half-heartedly. "Um, they liked banks and stuff, right?" Mr. Briggs sighed but nodded. "Yes, Katrina, the Federalists, led by Alexander Hamilton, believed in a strong central government and supported the creation of a national bank." Katrina leaned over to Sally. "Hamilton would’ve been all about online banking," she whispered, causing Sally to snort. "Okay, who can explain the beliefs of the Democratic-Republicans?" Mr. Briggs asked, his gaze sweeping the room. Clara raised her hand, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "They wanted more power for the states and were against a strong central government... right?" "Correct," Mr. Briggs said. "The Democratic-Republicans, led by Thomas Jefferson, believed in agrarianism and were wary of centralized power." Sally leaned in to Clara. "Jefferson would’ve been a fan of local farmers' markets." Clara chuckled quietly. "Totally. And probably anti-big grocery stores." Mr. Briggs droned on about the conflicts between Hamilton and Jefferson, the girls’ attention drifting in and out. Despite their lack of interest, they dutifully answered his questions, albeit hesitantly and sometimes incorrectly. Sally’s mind drifted. She almost wished she was wearing her pull-ups. She missed having the padding between her legs. She could do with a pee, she thought, wistfully. "Can anyone tell me a specific conflict that arose between these two parties?" Mr. Briggs asked. Sally raised her hand slowly. "Um, didn’t they argue about... trade with France?" Mr. Briggs frowned slightly. "Not exactly. They argued more about trade policies and foreign relations in general. The Federalists favored closer ties with Britain, while the Democratic-Republicans leaned towards France." "Oops," Sally whispered to Katrina. "Wrong country." "At least you tried," Katrina whispered back with a grin. As the lecture continued, the girls whispered teasing jokes to each other to pass the time. "Did you hear Hamilton's favorite music?" Katrina whispered. "Federalist Rock." Clara couldn’t help but giggle at that. "And Jefferson would totally be into indie folk music." Their quiet jokes and whispers made the dull class a bit more bearable, and Mr. Briggs, while aware of their waning interest, appreciated their efforts to stay engaged. He was patient with their mistakes and gentle in his corrections, knowing that history might not be their favorite subject but hoping to instill at least a basic understanding. Finally, Mr. Briggs wrapped up the lecture. "For homework, please read the next chapter on the early challenges of the new government. And remember, understanding our history helps us understand our present." As they packed up their things, Katrina sighed dramatically. "I can’t believe we survived another history class." Clara adjusted her glasses, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "We should get a medal." Sally laughed. "At least we have each other to get through it." -- Walking out of the classroom, the three friends felt a renewed sense of camaraderie. They might not love history, but together, they could make even the most boring subjects bearable. And in their whispers and jokes, they found the strength to face another day of school. Clara left for her chess practice. Sally and Katrina, on the other hand, were off to volleyball practice. Sally and Katrina walked together, their laughter echoing through the hallway. Sally, with her quiet demeanor, found a burst of energy in Katrina’s vibrant personality. Katrina, originally from Colombia, had a way of turning every moment into an adventure, and today was no different. "Vamos, Sally! We need to get to practice," Katrina exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Sally smiled, adjusting her backpack. "You’re always so eager, Katrina. What's your secret?" "It’s the love for the game! And maybe a bit of Colombian coffee," Katrina winked. “And I get to see you naked”, she teased. Sally groaned. She was never going to outlive her initial shock at being forced to take a shower… in front of all the team. Team rules stated showers were mandatory, and she hadn’t been aware when signing on the volleyball team. Katrina hadn’t told her either. They made their way to the locker room, where they changed out of their school uniforms and into their team uniform, joining the rest of the team for warm-up. As they jogged around the gym, Katrina kept the mood light with jokes and stories. Sally, usually reserved, found herself laughing and sharing more than she normally would, avoiding, of course, any car crash related topics. “Hey, guess what? My mom bought a new car!”, Sally exclaimed. “Ooh, what did she get?”, asked Katrina. “It's a really cool "wed"... uh, I mean, red SUV”, Sally said, in a fluster over her gaffe. “A "wed" SUV? Is that like a wedding car?”, asked Katrina, in mock innocence. “No, no, I meant red. It's a red SUV, okay? Stop laughing!”, Sally said, mortified. “Alright, alright. So, when are you giving us all a ride in this fancy "wed" SUV?” The other girls in the team giggled, at Katrina’s famous teasing. “Ugh, you're impossible, Katrina”, Sally said, rolling her eyes. The girls spread out as they finished jogging. Dynamic stretches were next, and Katrina led the group with exaggerated arm circles and leg swings. “Let’s go, chicas! Feel the burn!” she cheered, earning a mix of groans and giggles from the team. Coach Hanna called out: “Katrina, enough comedy, this is serious stuff!” After warm-up, they split into pairs for skill development. Sally and Katrina paired up, starting with passing drills. Katrina’s powerful passes kept Sally on her toes, and Sally’s precise returns pushed Katrina to stay sharp. "Good one, Sally!" Katrina praised after a particularly challenging pass. "Thanks! You’re making me work for it," Sally panted, but she was smiling. She was sorry, though, not to have used the bathroom earlier. She needed a break. Next was serving practice. Katrina demonstrated her serve with a flourish, hitting the target almost effortlessly. Sally, inspired, took her turn. Her first serve went wide, but Katrina was quick to encourage her. "Don’t worry, amiga. Focus on your form. You’ve got this," she said, giving Sally a reassuring pat on the back. Sally’s next serve was on point, and they high-fived. “See? Perfecto!” Katrina exclaimed. During the 6-on-6 scrimmage, Katrina’s voice was a constant presence, calling out plays, encouraging her teammates, and making everyone feel included. Sally, feeding off Katrina’s energy, played one of her best games, diving for digs and setting up perfect assists. She only wished she had Goodnite under her shorts, as she was bursting to pee. After the scrimmage, they moved to defensive drills. Katrina, always fearless, threw herself into every block and dig with gusto, while Sally found her rhythm, matching Katrina’s intensity. But her bladder pressure gave her an edge of anxiety. As practice wound down, they finished with a serve-receive drill, rotating positions and working on their communication. By the end, everyone was exhausted but satisfied with their hard work. Sally rushed into the locker room, and shut herself in the toilet, sweet relief coursing through her body. She frowned at having waited for so long to use the bathroom. In the locker room, the girls were still buzzing with post-practice energy. Sally and Katrina, side by side, chatted about the day as they grabbed their towels and joined the other naked girls in the showers. “You were amazing out there, Sally,” Katrina said sincerely. “Thanks to you, Katrina. You really know how to bring out the best in people,” Sally replied, her gratitude genuine. They shared a shower, the hot water soothing their tired muscles. Steam filled the air, and their voices echoed softly against the tiles. Katrina hummed a tune, a popular Colombian song, and Sally listened, feeling a sense of calm and camaraderie. “Katrina, can you teach me that song?” Sally asked, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. “Of course! It’s a top hit in Colombia,” Katrina said, her voice proud. She began to sing louder, and Sally joined in, their voices blending in some sort of harmony. The rest of the team cheered and clapped, as the girls continued their impromptu karaoke. In that moment, surrounded by the steam and the echoes of their song, Sally realized that volleyball practice was more than just drills and games. It was about friendship, support, and the joy of sharing experiences with someone who made everything brighter. -- Bridget sat in her car, the soft hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence. She looked over at the screen photo on her iPhone—a picture of her and Sally at the beach last summer, both of them smiling wide, arms wrapped around each other. It was hard to believe how much had changed since the car accident. She glanced at her phone, seeing no messages from Sally. That was good, as she was supposed to be in class, she remembered. Sally had been so resilient after the crash. Bridget had been terrified that the experience would leave lasting scars, that Sally would struggle with fear and anxiety. But instead, Sally seemed happier, more communicative, and closer to her than ever before. It was as if the crash had awakened something positive in her. Yet, Bridget couldn't shake her conflicting feelings. Sally had started expressing what she called her "little" side, finding comfort in things that reminded her of childhood—especially wearing footed pajamas and, most surprisingly, pull-ups. What seemed to have been more of a joke, had turned into the real deal. Bridget had found her daughter not just wearing them, but using them too. At first, it had been shocking, but then she noticed how at ease and content Sally seemed. Bridget found herself in a constant tug-of-war between concern and acceptance. She had to admit, Sally did look adorably cute in those infantile pajamas. More importantly, Sally was happier than she'd seen her in a long time. She was more open, bold in expressing herself, and their bond had deepened in ways Bridget had never expected. But was it okay to let this continue? Should she be encouraging Sally to explore her "little" side, or was she leading her down a path that might not be healthy in the long run? Bridget's mind buzzed with questions and worries. She wanted to support Sally in whatever made her feel safe and happy, but she also wanted to ensure she was doing the right thing as a mother. Bridget sighed and picked up her phone, scrolling to Pamela's contact. Her psychologist friend had always been a source of wisdom and comfort, especially when it came to matters of mental health and well-being. Maybe Pamela would have the answers she was looking for. With a determined nod, Bridget decided to text Pamela and ask if they could meet up. She needed to talk this through with someone who could provide clarity and guidance. She typed out a quick message: "Hey Pam, can we meet for coffee? I need to talk to you about something important. It's about Sally. Thanks!" As she hit send, Bridget felt a small wave of relief wash over her. Talking to Pamela would help her sort through her thoughts and find the best way to support Sally. She only wanted what was best for her daughter, and with a little help from her friend, she was confident she could figure out the right path forward. -- Bridget and Pamela met at their favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place with comfy chairs and a relaxing atmosphere. Bridget was visibly anxious, and Pamela could see the worry etched on her friend's face. After ordering their drinks and settling in, Bridget took a deep breath and began to speak. "Pam, you already know about the car accident Sally and I had. It was terrifying, and I was so worried she'd be traumatized by it. But instead, she seems... different. In a good way, I think? She's been happier, more communicative, and she's even gotten really close to me. It's like she's a new person." Pamela's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and relief. "That's wonderful, Bridget! I’m so glad you only told me after it was over… I would have been worried sick. And Sally being so calm and strong. I mean, it's great that she's not showing signs of PTSD. But you seem a bit hesitant. Is there something else on your mind?" Bridget nodded, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her cup. "Well, yes. It's a bit unusual. Sally's been expressing what she calls her 'little' side. She suddenly loves wearing infantile pajamas, like footed ones, and she's even taken to wearing pull-ups. And, um, using them too. I didn't know what to think at first. Is this normal?" Pamela paused for a moment, then leaned back in her chair with a thoughtful look on her face. "Bridget, this might actually be a sign of something called Post Traumatic Growth, or PTG. It's when someone experiences positive psychological changes after dealing with a really stressful situation. It's like Sally's found a way to cope and come out stronger on the other side." "PTG, huh? That's interesting. But the pull-ups and footed pajamas?" Bridget asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Pamela nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, PTG can manifest in many ways. It's a process where individuals develop new strengths, perspectives, and coping mechanisms after a traumatic event. Sally's behavior might be her way of reconnecting with a sense of safety and simplicity. Have you noticed any other changes in her behavior, like new interests or shifts in her social interactions?" Bridget took a moment to think. "Well, she's been more open about her feelings, which is new. She's also taken up drawing and painting a lot more. Her art has a kind of childlike whimsy to it. And she seems to enjoy spending more time with me, like she's seeking more comfort and closeness." Pamela smiled. "Those are good signs, Bridget. They suggest that Sally is finding creative and emotional outlets to process her experience. It might be helpful to consider how her new behaviors make her feel. Have you talked to her about why she likes the footed pajamas and pull-ups?" Bridget shook her head. "Not in depth. I was worried it might embarrass her or make her feel judged. I have asked her, and she said it makes her feel safe and happy, but we didn't go much deeper than that. It’s mostly what she has volunteered" Pamela leaned in slightly. "It might be worth exploring those feelings with her, in a gentle and non-judgmental way. Understanding her perspective can help you support her better. Sometimes, these behaviors are about regaining a sense of control and comfort. Also, have you noticed any signs of distress or anxiety in her, or is she generally more relaxed now?" Bridget considered this. "She does seem more relaxed overall. There haven't been any nightmares or panic attacks, which I was really worried about. But sometimes, she'll get really quiet and thoughtful, like she's processing something deep inside." Pamela nodded and reached across the table to squeeze Bridget's hand. "That introspection is part of the healing process. You're doing great, Bridget. Just keep being there for Sally, and don't hesitate to seek support for yourself too. You're both on this journey together, and it's okay to take it one step at a time." Bridget smiled, feeling more at ease with the path ahead. "Thanks, Pam. I really needed to hear that. We'll take it one step at a time, together. Pull-ups! Who would have thought. And I sort of suggested that myself as a joke, to match her footed pajamas", she shook her head in amazement. Pamela chuckled softly. "Everyone copes differently. Some people take up yoga, others start painting, and some find comfort in things that remind them of a simpler, safer time. If wearing footed pajamas and pull-ups makes Sally feel secure and happy, then it sounds like she's found a way to deal with her stress that's harmless and even kind of adorable." Bridget laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Adorable? Well, she does look very cute in those pajamas. Even more when she’s got a Pull-up underneath. It's just so unexpected. I mean, she’s 14!" "True, but think about it. She's gone through a really scary experience, and she's found a way to feel safe and close to you. It's a bit unconventional, sure, but it's also a sign that she's healing and growing. Maybe she’s found a quirky way to express her feelings and feel in control again," Pamela suggested. "I guess when you put it that way, it does sound like she's handling things pretty well. And honestly, I do enjoy the extra closeness we've developed. It's like we're connecting on a whole new level," Bridget admitted, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Pamela smiled warmly. "There you go! Embrace the new normal, Bridget. Maybe you can even join her in the pajama fun. Who knows, you might find it comforting too. Just don’t expect me to join the pajama party!", she laughed. "Oh, I don't know if I'm ready for footed pajamas just yet, but I'll keep an open mind. Thanks, Pam. You always know how to put things in perspective," Bridget said, feeling a surge of gratitude for her friend. "Anytime, Bridget. Remember, growth can come in the most unexpected forms. If Sally’s happy and healthy, then you’re both doing something right. And hey, at least you don't have to worry about her running out of clean pajamas!" Pamela joked, eliciting a genuine laugh from Bridget. The weight seemed to lift from Bridget's shoulders as they continued to chat. She felt more at ease with the changes in Sally, ready to support her daughter in her unique journey of healing and growth. After a moment of comfortable silence, Bridget sipped her coffee and contemplated Pamela's words. "Pam, how much should I let Sally wander into this rabbit hole? Should I be encouraging her, or is there a point where I need to step in and set some boundaries?" Pamela set down her cup, her expression thoughtful yet reassuring. "Bridget, I think it's important to let Sally explore this side of herself. Encourage her to find what makes her feel safe and happy. It's much better for her to feel comfortable sharing these things with you than for her to hide them out of fear or shame. Your support can make all the difference in how she navigates this experience." "So, you think I should just let her go with it? Even if it means wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas… maybe other stuff?" Bridget asked, her concern still evident but mingled with hope. She was thinking about the Pajama Factory, with all the “accessories” sized up for grown-ups. "Within reason, yes. You know Sally best, and you can help guide her. If she's using these things as a way to cope and it's not harming her or anyone else, then it's a healthy form of self-expression. She'll feel more secure knowing she has your support. Just keep an open dialogue with her. Ask her how she feels and what she needs," Pamela advised gently. Bridget nodded, feeling a bit more reassured. "I suppose you're right. I just want to make sure I'm doing the best thing for her. She's been through so much, and I don't want to make any mistakes." "You're already doing great, Bridget. The fact that you're concerned and thinking about what's best for Sally shows how much you care. Just continue to be there for her. If her interest in these things starts to interfere with her daily life or social interactions, you can gently steer her back. But for now, let her explore in a safe and supportive environment," Pamela encouraged. "It makes sense. I want her to feel comfortable and accepted for who she is, especially after what we've been through. I'll talk to her and make sure she knows she can come to me with anything," Bridget resolved, feeling more confident in her approach. "Exactly. Parental nurture is so much better than leaving her to her own devices. Imagine how much harder it would be for her if she felt she had to hide her needs and preferences from you. By being open and supportive, you're giving her the best chance to grow positively from this experience," Pamela affirmed. "Thanks, Pam. I really needed to hear that. I'll do my best to support Sally and help her navigate this. And maybe I'll even think about getting myself a pair of footed pajamas for those cold nights," Bridget said with a laugh. Pamela laughed too, her eyes twinkling. "Now that's the spirit! You might start a new family tradition. And remember, I'm always here if you need to talk or if you have any more questions. We're all figuring this out as we go." Feeling much lighter, Bridget smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Pamela's hand. The two friends continued their conversation, chatting and laughing, knowing that no matter what challenges came their way, they had each other's support. Bridget felt ready to embrace Sally's unique journey, confident that with love and understanding, they could navigate anything together. -- Sally, Katrina, and Clara reunited at their favorite spot in the schoolyard after their respective activities. Sally and Katrina had just finished a grueling volleyball practice, while Clara had been immersed in a challenging chess match. The trio quickly fell into their usual rhythm of witty banter and playful teasing. Katrina tossed her volleyball bag to the ground and stretched dramatically. "¡Ay, Dios mío! That practice was killer. I swear Coach Hanna is trying to turn us into volleyball robots." Sally laughed; her face still flushed from the hot shower. "Tell me about it. My arms feel like jelly. But at least we survived." Clara, ever the calm and collected one, adjusted her glasses and smiled. "I think you two did great. I could almost hear Coach Hanna yelling grom the gym." Sally beamed. "Thanks, Clara. How was the chess match?" Clara shrugged modestly. "Oh, you know, just another victory. I managed to corner Kyle in 20 moves." Katrina let out a low whistle. "You're a chess wizard, Clara. Kyle's no pushover." Clara grinned. "It's all about strategy and patience. Speaking of which, Sally, how are you feeling about the upcoming history test?" Sally's smile faded slightly. "Honestly, I'm a bit nervous. History's never been my strong suit, and Mr. Briggs' monotone lectures don't help." Katrina snickered. "Yeah, Mr. Briggs could make a rollercoaster ride sound boring. 'And then the rollercoaster ascended the hill at a 45-degree angle...'" Clara chuckled. "True, but the material is interesting if you give it a chance. How about I come over and help you review?" Sally's eyes lit up with relief. "Really? That would be amazing, Clara. I could definitely use the help." "Of course," Clara replied warmly. "You're a great student, Sally. You're very intelligent, and you're a very good girl", she said, holding on Sally’s arm. Sally blushed at the compliment, her cheeks turning a shade darker than her flushed post-practice face. "Thanks, Clara. That means a lot coming from you." Katrina nodded in agreement. "Sally's the best. A good girl and a great friend." Sally's blush deepened, and she waved her hands dismissively. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery. Let's talk about something less embarrassing." Katrina grinned mischievously. "Like how you tripped over your own feet during the warm-up? Or maybe the “wed” car? Sally groaned. "Oh, come on, Katrina! I thought we agreed never to speak of that again." Clara laughed, the sound clear and bright. "Don't worry, Sally. Everyone has their clumsy moments. Besides, it's what makes you endearing. What’s this about a “wed” car?”. Sally grimaced. “Nothing”. Katrina slung an arm around Sally's shoulders. "Yeah, you're our favorite klutz." Sally rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You two are impossible." As the laughter died down, Clara turned to Sally with a serious expression. "So, when should I come over? We can go over the key points from the last few chapters and maybe make some flashcards." Sally thought for a moment. "How about tomorrow right after dinner? My mom won't mind, and we can have some snacks while we study." "Sounds perfect," Clara agreed. "I'll bring my notes and some highlighters." Katrina clapped her hands together. "Great! While you two brainiacs hit the books, I'll be at home, with a hot bath and a movie." Sally laughed. "Lucky you. Only Katrina to have a big-ass TV in her bathroom. But seriously, thanks, Clara. I really appreciate the help." Clara smiled. "Anytime, Sally. We're in this together." With plans set and spirits high, the three friends headed home, ready to tackle whatever challenges came their way, whether it was a history test or the next volleyball match. And as Sally walked beside her friends, she felt a renewed sense of confidence, knowing she had their unwavering support. She was looking forward to going out to dinner with her mother. She was glad she had bought the red SUV, as it was easily identifiable in the middle of all the other parent’s cars. As the three girls chatted animatedly, a shiny new red SUV pulled up to the curb. Bridget rolled down the window, smiling warmly at the trio. "Hey girls! How was practice?" Bridget called out. Sally's face lit up as she waved. "Hi, Mom! Practice was tough, but fun. And guess what? Clara won her chess match in twenty moves!" Bridget's eyes widened in admiration. "Wow, Clara! That's impressive. Congratulations!" Clara blushed slightly, adjusting her glasses. "Thank you, Mrs. B." Katrina pointed at the SUV, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So this is the famous “wed” SUV, huh? It looks amazing!" Bridget beamed with pride. "Yep, this is it! I'm glad you like it. Do you girls need a ride home?" Sally immediately looked at her friends, hopeful. "Do you guys want a lift?" Clara shook her head politely. "Thanks, Mrs. Bridget, but my mom's picking me up today." Katrina grinned and waved her hand. "Mine too. But thanks!" Bridget nodded understandingly. "Alright then. The offer's always open. Sally, hop in. We've got some plans tonight, remember?" Sally rolled her eyes playfully. "Yes, Mom. Clara's coming over to help me study tomorrow after dinner." Clara nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I'll be there. See you, Sally!" "Bye, Sally! Bye, Mrs. Bridget!" Katrina added with a cheerful wave. "Bye, girls!" Bridget replied, waving back as Sally climbed into the SUV. As Bridget drove off, Sally looked out the window, smiling at her friends. "They're the best, Mom." Bridget glanced at her daughter and smiled warmly. "They really are, Sally. You're lucky to have such great friends." Sally nodded in agreement as they headed home, feeling grateful for her supportive friends and family.
FlyingFox Posted February 4 Author Posted February 4 Chapters 15 to 19 Chapter 15 - Secret After the exhausting day, Bridget and Sally headed home, excited for a relaxing evening at "Il Duomo," their favorite trattoria. As they pulled into the driveway, Bridget turned to Sally with a smile. "Why don't you change into something more comfortable and a bit social, Sally? We're going to Il Duomo, after all." As Sally skipped up to her bedroom, glad to get out of her school uniform. Her mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts. The idea of wearing her Goodnites during her day to day activities had dragged on all day on her mind. Now, the thought struck her: Should she wear her Goodnites to the restaurant? After all, a 14-year-old shouldn't be wearing pull-ups. It was one thing to wear them to bed, mostly due to the footed pajamas, but wasn’t wearing pull-ups under her normal clothes a bit unusual? She paused at her bedroom door, her hand resting on the doorknob. Maybe it was unusual. Most girls her age definitely didn’t wear pull-ups, especially not out in public. What if someone found out? She felt a pang of embarrassment at the thought. Yet, there was a thrill to the idea too, a secret excitement that made her heart race. As she entered her room, she was momentarily surprised to find it spotless, a reminder that today was Dolores' cleaning day. Frowning, she scanned her room, worried and embarrassed at the thought that Dolores might have seen her Goodnites packages, one of them already opened. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized the package wasn't where she'd left it, right by her bed on the floor. Panicked, she searched around until she found the Goodnites packages neatly tucked away in her walk-in closet, right beside her pajamas and sanitary pads supply. She sighed with relief and a bit of embarrassment, but decided to go ahead with her plan. She bit her lip, standing in the closet. Wearing pull-ups to bed felt safe and comforting, almost like a part of her bedtime routine, even now. But wearing them under her regular clothes? That was a whole different story. It felt a bit naughty, daring even. And there was that curiosity she couldn’t shake. What would it feel like to wear them out, to have that secret just for herself while she was out in the world? Sally’s thoughts raced. On one hand, it seemed silly and childish. What if someone noticed? But on the other hand, it was a secret experiment, something that made her feel unique and brave in a strange way. She was curious, and that curiosity was hard to ignore. She took a deep breath and made up her mind. Why not? It wasn’t like anyone would see them. And it would be her little secret, something just for her to know. Plus, it added a bit of fun to the evening, a bit of mischievousness that made her smile. With a determined nod, she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her tights and underwear, grabbing a pull-up from the package. She slipped it on, feeling the soft padding and a strange sense of comfort. Then she carefully pulled her tights back on over the pull-up. It was a bit tricky, but she managed. Finally, she found a short black dress that would cover her pull-up perfectly. Sally looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing down her dress. It looked good, stylish even. She kept her blouse on but swapped her school crest sweater for a more fashionable one. She felt a sense of accomplishment, a secret pride in her little adventure. As she skipped back downstairs to her mother, she felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. But mostly, she felt daring and a bit naughty, thrilled by the secret she carried with her. Ready for the evening, she smiled at Bridget. "Let's go, Mom!" she said, feeling a newfound confidence. Bridget smiled back, not noticing anything out of place. "You look lovely, Sally. Ready for some supper?" "Definitely!" Sally replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She felt a rush of excitement as they headed out, ready to enjoy the evening with her little secret safely hidden away. As they drove off, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Sally felt a sense of anticipation and joy bubbling up inside her. She loved these moments with her mother, and tonight felt like it would be extra special. They arrived at Il Duomo, the familiar scent of garlic and fresh bread wafting through the air as they stepped inside. The cozy atmosphere and friendly staff made them feel right at home. Bridget and Sally were quickly seated at their favorite corner table, where they could watch the bustling kitchen and enjoy the warmth of the wood-fired oven. Sally felt a mix of excitement and contentment. The evening promised good food, great company, and the comforting knowledge that she could be herself around her mother, even with her little secrets. She glanced at Bridget, who was looking over the menu with a smile. "What do you feel like having tonight, Sally?" Bridget asked, glancing up. "Maybe the “Risotto ai funghi porcini”," Sally replied, her stomach growling at the thought. "Excellent choice," Bridget said with a grin, fondly remembering when Sally’s version of Italian cousine was Mac and Cheese. "And perhaps we can share a tiramisu for dessert?" Sally nodded enthusiastically, feeling a wave of happiness wash over her. As they chatted and laughed, the worries of the day melted away, replaced by the joy of being together and the anticipation of the delicious meal to come. For Sally, the evening was perfect. She felt safe and loved, surrounded by the familiar comforts of her favorite restaurant and the unwavering support of her mother. And as they enjoyed their meal, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the special bond they shared, one that made even the most ordinary days feel extraordinary. "So, how was school today?" Bridget asked as she took a sip of her San Pellegrino. Sally smiled, playing with the edge of her napkin. "It was good. We had a pretty intense volleyball practice, and Clara won her chess match in twenty moves. And, of course, Mr. Briggs droned on about the formation of political parties again." Bridget chuckled. "Mr. Briggs and his monotone lectures. Well, at least you have Clara and Katrina to keep things interesting." Sally nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely. They make even the most boring classes bearable." After placing their orders, the conversation drifted to Bridget's work. "The fundraising event for the charity is coming along nicely," Bridget said. "As a project manager, I have to make sure everything runs smoothly. Lots of planning and organizing." "That sounds like a lot of work," Sally replied, genuinely impressed. "But I know you're great at it, Mom." Bridget smiled warmly. "Thanks, sweetheart. Speaking of planning, we need to talk about our home plans for the week. What do you think we should have for dinner tomorrow?" Sally thought for a moment, tapping her chin playfully. "How about tacos? We haven't had those in a while. And I love it when we make them together." Bridget's eyes twinkled. "Tacos it is! I love our taco nights too. I'll make sure to get all the ingredients. Maybe we can try making a new salsa recipe?" Sally's face lit up with excitement. "That sounds awesome! Maybe we could add some pineapple to the salsa? I read about it online, and it seems like a fun twist." "Great idea! Pineapple it is," Bridget agreed, making a mental note. "We also need to pick up some groceries. Do you need anything specific?" "Maybe some more of that yogurt I like," Sally suggested. "The one with the fruit on the bottom. And we're almost out of cereal. Oh, and can we get those mini muffins for breakfast? They're so good." Bridget nodded, pulling out her phone to jot down the items. "Got it. Yogurt, cereal, and mini muffins. Anything else you can think of?" Sally paused, thinking. "Hmm, maybe some more fruit? I've been loving those mandarin oranges you got last time." "Sure thing," Bridget said, adding mandarin oranges to the list. "And speaking of tasks, don't forget to do your laundry this weekend. You know how important it is to stay on top of it, especially with your pull-ups." Sally nodded, seeming comfortable with the topic. "I know, Mom. I'll make sure to wash everything properly. But it’s not like they cause extra laundry. But I actually don't mind doing laundry. It's kind of relaxing." Bridget raised an eyebrow playfully. "Relaxing, huh? Maybe you can take over all the laundry duties then." Sally laughed, shaking her head. "Nice try, Mom. I said it's kind of relaxing, not that I want to do it all the time." Bridget chuckled. "Fair enough. But seriously, it's important to stay on top of it. You know how quickly things can pile up." "Yeah, I do," Sally agreed. "Especially with my volleyball practice clothes. They get pretty sweaty." Bridget nodded; her expression thoughtful. "You work so hard at practice. I'm really proud of you, Sally. Balancing school, sports, and everything else isn't easy." Sally smiled, feeling a warm glow of pride. "Thanks, Mom. It helps to have your support. And, well, the pull-ups make things a bit easier too", Slly said, looking down. Bridget took a deep breath, looking at her daughter with a mix of pride and curiosity. "Sally, are you comfortable with the pull-ups arrangement? I want to make sure you're okay with everything." Sally hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she contemplated whether to share her secret. Finally, she leaned in, lowering her voice slightly. "Actually, Mom, I'm wearing a Goodnite right now." Bridget's eyes widened slightly in surprise, her mind processing this unexpected revelation. She quickly composed herself, her expression softening with understanding. "Really? How do you feel about that?" Sally shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Honestly, it's practical. It makes me feel secure. I find I get so anxious about needing to use the toilet, but this might help." Bridget nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing with reflections. She remembered all the times Sally had rushed home from school, her face flushed with embarrassment, frantically searching for the bathroom. The times when Sally had been too afraid to ask for a bathroom pass during class, leading to anxious moments and close calls. Seeing her daughter now, more confident and open, Bridget felt a wave of relief. "I can see how that would make a big difference," Bridget said, her voice gentle. "I'm glad it helps you feel more comfortable. Do you think you would find it practical for other situations, like school?" Sally looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of her napkin. "Yeah, I think so," she said slowly, as if measuring each word. "It might make things easier, and I won’t have to worry as much. Plus, it's kind of nice having that little secret, something that helps me feel more in control”, she said, giving a timid smile. Bridget watched her daughter closely, noticing the mix of emotions playing across her face. She could see the flicker of vulnerability in Sally's eyes, mingled with a newfound curiosity. Bridget felt a deep sense of pride, recognizing the courage it took for Sally to share something so personal. "I realize now how stressed you must be about needing the bathroom at school," Bridget said softly. "It must be such a relief not to have that constant worry hanging over you." Sally nodded, her eyes meeting her mother's. "I guess so, Mom. I dread it, sometimes. I'll be sitting in class, trying to concentrate, but all I can think about sometimes is whether I'll make it to the bathroom in time. The Goodnites just... take that fear away, I think." Bridget reached across the table, gently squeezing Sally's hand. "I'm so glad to hear that, honey. You deserve to feel safe and secure. So you don’t think you’ll feel uncomfortable or embarrassed about wearing them?" Sally thought for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. "Not really," she admitted. "At first, I worry about what people would think if they found out. But then I realize that no one can tell. It's just my little secret. And it makes me feel better, so why should I be ashamed?" Bridget's heart swelled with admiration. "That's a wonderful perspective, Sally. It's so important to do what makes you feel comfortable and confident, regardless of what others might think. I'm really proud of you for finding a way to cope with your anxiety." Sally smiled, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot to hear you say that." Chissà se tu mi penserai Se con gli amici parlerai Per non soffrire più per me Ma non è facile lo sai A scuola non ne posso più E i pomeriggi senza te Studiare è inutile, tutte le idee si affollano su te Non è possibile dividere la vita di noi due Ti prego aspettami amore mio Ma illuderti non so! Mother and daughter enjoyed the Italian music on the background for a while they waited for their food. But inevitably conversation ensued about mundane subjects. They paused as their waiter arrived with their food, the delicious aroma filling the air. As they began to eat, the conversation continued, weaving through various topics. They talked about school projects, upcoming volleyball matches, and plans for the weekend. The easy flow of their discussion made the trattoria feel even more like a safe haven, a place where they could share anything and everything. Bridget took a moment to reflect on how far Sally had come. The pull-ups, initially a source of concern and confusion, had become a symbol of Sally's resilience and ability to adapt. Bridget realized that her daughter was navigating her journey in her own unique way, and it was her role to support and encourage that growth. As they enjoyed their meal, Bridget decided to address one last question that was nagging her. She wanted to ensure Sally knew there were no topics too sensitive or embarrassing to discuss. "Sally, can I ask you something a bit more personal?" Bridget said gently, setting down her fork. Sally looked up, curiosity and a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Sure, Mom. What is it?" "Have you, um, used your Goodnite tonight? Are you wet?" Bridget asked, her tone careful and kind, but to the point. Sally's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and she hesitated before answering. "No, I haven't. Not yet, anyways", she said, giving a sly smile. Bridget nodded, relief and understanding washing over her. "That's perfectly okay, Sally. I'm just glad you're feeling more comfortable and secure." Sally looked down at her plate, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for being so cool about it, Mom. It really helps." Bridget reached over and squeezed Sally's hand again. "Of course, sweetheart. We're a team, and we can talk about anything. I'm here for you, no matter what." The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, delicious food, and the comforting knowledge that no matter what challenges came their way, they could always face them together. For Bridget, the night reaffirmed the deep bond she shared with her daughter. For Sally, it was a reminder that she was loved and accepted just as she was, Goodnites and all. Sally couldn’t help but wet her Goodnite as they waited for the valet to drive their car up to the door. She was becoming more at ease with the process. As they left Il Duomo, the stars twinkling above, both felt a renewed sense of connection and gratitude, ready to face whatever the future held. Sally basked in the pleasure of a wet Goodnite while seated in the comfortable leather seat in her mother’s “wed” SUV. -- When Bridget and Sally arrived home, the garage door closed behind them with a quiet hum. They stepped out of the car, and Bridget suggested, "How about we spend the rest of the evening watching TV in my room? We can catch up on that series we've been meaning to watch." Sally's face lit up. "I'd love that, Mom! But you know, I might end up falling asleep on your bed." Bridget chuckled, wrapping an arm around Sally's shoulders as they walked inside. "I don't mind if we share a bed. It's been a while since we had a mother-daughter sleepover." Sally smiled, feeling a warm sense of comfort wash over her. However, her smile quickly faded as Bridget continued, "But before we settle in, you should change out of your wet pull-up." Sally stopped in her tracks; her eyes wide with shock. "How did you know I was wet?" Bridget gave her a knowing look, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Sally, I'm your mother. I noticed while we were waiting for the car outside the restaurant. It was pretty obvious, especially with the way you walked. You were waddling a bit." Sally's cheeks flushed a deep red, embarrassment flooding her. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to wet myself. Well, I did, but I thought you wouldn’t notice" Bridget's smile remained warm and reassuring. "Honey, it's okay. That's what 'diapers' are for, remember? There's no need to be embarrassed." Sally looked down at her feet, feeling a mix of emotions. "I'm going to go put a new one on." Bridget nodded, "Good girl." As Sally headed to her room, she felt another rush of excitement at her mother's compliment. There was something oddly comforting and thrilling about the whole situation. Plus, the “diaper” word again. She quickly undressed, found a fresh pull-up and changed out of the wet one, feeling much better once she was clean and dry. She opted for pulling on just a t-shirt on, since she new her mom was so accepting about her attire of choice. Besides, she liked to keep the thermostat up in her room. Returning to her mother's room, she found Bridget already in bed, the TV remote in hand and a cozy blanket spread out. "All set?" Bridget asked, patting the space beside her. “I see you’re in extra-comfortable mode tonight”, she said, winking. Sally nodded, climbing into bed next to her mother. "All set. It’s always warm in your room", explaining her attire. “You look adorable”, her mother said reassuringly. They snuggled up under the blanket, the soft glow of the TV filling the room as they started their show. Sally felt a deep sense of contentment and security. The embarrassment from earlier had faded, replaced by the warmth of her mother's understanding and support. It felt wonderfully strange to be sitting on her mother’s bed in a t-shirt and Goodnite. As the evening wore on, they laughed and chatted, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company. Sally felt grateful for the close bond she shared with her mother, knowing that no matter what, Bridget would always be there for her. Eventually, as the show continued to play, Sally's eyelids grew heavy. She yawned and snuggled closer to her mother, feeling safe and loved. Bridget wrapped an arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Goodnight, Sally," Bridget whispered. "Goodnight, Mom," Sally murmured back, her voice drowsy. With that, she drifted off to sleep, the comforting sounds of the TV and the warmth of their shared bed enveloping them. It was a perfect end to a wonderful evening, and Sally knew that with her mother's love and support, she could face anything the future held. Sally’s last conscious act was to release her bladder once again, letting the Goodnite expand between her legs, inducing her into a sweet heavy sleep. Chapter 16 - Acceptance Mustang Sally, uh, uh Guess you better slow your Mustang down Oh, Lord, what I say now Mustang Sally, now baby, oh Lord Guess you better slow your Mustang down, huh, oh yeah You've been running all over the town now Oh, I guess I'll have to put your flat feet on the ground, huh What I said now Listen, all you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) uh All you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) uh All you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) uh All you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) One of these early mornings (whoo!), you gonna be wiping your weeping eyes, huh What I said now The music lingered in the background. “Bare legs”, was Sally’s first thought, realizing she had slept with only her Goodnites on, besides a t-shirt. “Mom’s bed”. She turned over, surveying the empty bed. The smell. “Fried eggs”, she mused. That, and her mom’s music, were enough to get her out of bed in a good mood. The moment her feet hit the floor another thought hit her. “Wet Goodnite”. She froze. Wet? A shot of adrenaline went through her like a bolt of lightning. She suddenly calmed down, as she vaguely remembered voluntarily wetting herself voluntarily before falling asleep. Sally hesitated. “Maybe I should clean up and change into something before going downstairs”, she thought. But with her mom calling out “Sally, breakfast’s ready!” loud and clear over the music and across the expansive house, made her decide she’d better tell her mom she was up, and she was going to change. Instead of shouting back, just as her mom had done, she resolved to go herself and let her know. By the time Sally reached the kitchen, another song was blaring from the Bluetooth speaker. Her mom was fond of her “Sally Playlist”. “Oh well, Sally's folks were poor but she helped all she could Sally was a good ole girl Hardest working girl in the neighborhood Sally was a good ole girl”. “Hey mom”, said Sally timidly, clad in her wet Goodnite and t-shirt. “I need to change, first…”. Her mom didn’t let her finish. “Morning, sunshine”, she said, pausing the music. “Right on time, eggs are just out”. She blew her daughter a kiss as she balanced the laden plates and set them on the kitchen table, then she kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Sit”, she said. “Uhm, can I go change, first?, Sally asked. “No, not if you want cold eggs”, Bridget said, dismissively. “Don’t worry about your attire, honey”. “But… I’m wet”, Sally tried to explain. “I know, I checked your diaper while you were sleeping”, Bridget said, nonchalantly. “Sweety, it’s up to you”, Bridget said, holding her daughter on the arm. “But I have a feeling you need to get used to wearing a wet diaper”, she sentenced, looking her in the eye and winking. “So, get comfortable”. Sally sat meekly on the chair. Her mother checked her diaper while she was sleeping? She couldn’t explain why, but it made her feel all warm and fuzzy. The Goodnite was OK, it didn’t feel wet or anything, just… bloated, slightly sagging. But she had to admit, she was hungry, and the eggs smelled wonderful. -- For school, Sally decided to forego her pull-ups and opted for her bikini-style panties instead. She still had reservations of wearing her pull-ups to school. She felt a rush of grown-up confidence as she put her panties on, enjoying the sleekness and the feeling of being more like the other girls her age. With a renewed sense of determination, she headed to school. -- In the School hallway, she met up with Katrina and Clara. Clara beamed at her. "Remember, I'm coming over after dinner for study session." Katrina couldn't resist a tease. "You two and your study sessions. Nerds unite!" Sally laughed, feeling light and carefree. "Hey, it's not my fault we have a history test coming up. Besides, you could join us, you know." Katrina feigned horror. "And miss my precious TV time? No, thanks!", she said, boasting of her natural learning ability. The girls made her way to Sally’s favorite class—math. Today, they were focusing on numbers and equations with their teacher, Ms. Allison. Sally was excited; math was her strong suit, and she loved the challenge. Katrina moaned, just because she liked to moan. Ms. Allison started the lesson with a lively explanation of algebraic expressions. "All right, class. Today, we're going to dive into solving quadratic equations. Can anyone tell me what the quadratic formula is?" Sally's hand shot up, and she recited confidently, "The quadratic formula is x equals negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac, all over 2a." Ms. Allison smiled. "Exactly, Sally. Now, let's apply that formula to solve this equation: x squared plus 6x minus 7 equals zero." Sally eagerly worked through the problem, her pencil flying across the paper. She enjoyed the process of isolating the variables and simplifying the expressions. Math was like a puzzle to her, each equation a piece that needed to be placed correctly. Halfway through the class, Sally felt a familiar pressure in her bladder. She ignored it at first, focusing on the equations and enjoying the sense of accomplishment as she solved each one. But as time went on, the pressure grew more intense, making it harder to concentrate. She crossed her legs and squirmed in her seat, glancing at the clock, willing the class to end. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She raised her hand, her voice betraying her urgency. "Ms. Allison, may I please go to the bathroom?" Ms. Allison nodded, giving her a sympathetic look. "Of course, Sally. Hurry back." Sally practically bolted out of the classroom, her heart pounding. She made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, her desperation growing with every step. She reached the door, almost bursting with relief, and quickly dashed into a stall. Just in time, she managed to lift her skirt, pull down her tights and panties and sit, feeling an immense wave of relief wash over her. As she sat there, catching her breath, she couldn't help but think about her Goodnites. Despite the comfort and confidence her panties gave her, she missed the security of the Goodnites. They would have prevented this mad dash and the near accident. She sighed, realizing the trade-off she had made. After finishing up, she washed her hands and returned to class, her cheeks still flushed with the excitement and embarrassment of the experience. Back in her seat, she rejoined the lesson, but her mind kept wandering back to the incident. At the end of the day, as she rode the school bus home, she reflected on the day's events. She enjoyed the grown-up feeling her panties gave her, but she also missed the practicality and security of her Goodnites. And the padding too, she reflected, as she felt the hard school bus seats. “Prison bus”, she mumbled to herself. -- Sally arrived home from school, the front door closing with a soft thud behind her. She dropped her backpack by the entrance and sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. She made her way to the den next to the living room, where her mom was working on her laptop. "Hey, Mom," Sally greeted, her voice strained. Bridget looked up from her screen, concern immediately flashing in her eyes. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" Sally shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Normal," she replied, though her tone lacked any real conviction. "Remember, Clara's coming over later to help me study." Bridget's eyebrows knitted together as she studied her daughter's tense posture. "Are you okay, Sally? You seem a bit stressed." Sally waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess." Bridget wasn't convinced. She knew her daughter well enough to sense when something was bothering her. "Is there anything specific that’s making you upset?” She raised her an eyebrow. “A wet pull-up, maybe?". Sally shook her head quickly. "No, Mom. I'm not wearing one. I decided not to wear one to school today." Bridget's concern deepened. "Why not, honey?" "Just because," Sally said, shaking her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "I have homework to do," she added, turning to leave the room. As she walked away, Bridget's mind raced. Was Sally just acting like a normal, snappy teenager experiencing PMS, or was there something more to her stress? She shook her head. Her period wasn’t due, yet. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't worn a pull-up under her school uniform, and now she wished she had, but wouldn't admit it. Bridget sighed, watching her daughter retreat upstairs to her room. She knew better than to press the issue right now. Instead, she resolved to give Sally some space and revisit the conversation later, when her daughter might be more open to talking. -- Sally closed the door to her room and threw herself onto her bed, feeling the familiar tension in her shoulders. She hated feeling this way, but she couldn't help it. The anxiety of nearly wetting herself during math class had stuck with her all day, and she regretted not wearing a Goodnite to school. But admitting that to her mom? That was a different story. She didn't want to seem like she couldn't handle herself, like she was too dependent on the security of the pull-ups. Why didn’t she trust her mom? Her mom had showed nothing but understanding and acceptance, even last night, when she had wet herself on the way home from the restaurant. She sighed deeply, staring up at the ceiling, frowning. She wished she could talk to her mom about it, but something held her back. Maybe it was pride, or fear of seeming childish. She was a teenager, after all! Whatever it was, it kept her from opening up completely. For now, she would focus on her homework and wait till after dinner for Clara to arrive. Maybe a distraction would help ease her mind. Back in the den, Bridget returned to her work, but her thoughts remained on Sally. She couldn't shake the feeling that her daughter was struggling with more than just school stress. Bridget made a mental note to check in with her later. -- Sally toyed with the package of Goodnites on her bed, tempted to put one on, but decided not to, since it might distract her from her homework. She pulled off her school uniform and slid on some comfortable lounge pants and her favorite hoodie. She made a mental note to give the bedroom a once-over before Clara came, as she figured she had plenty of time. But unbeknownst to Sally, Clara was already on her way to her house. It was still early when the doorbell rang. Bridget, surprised but happy to see Clara, let her in. "Clara! You’re early," Bridget exclaimed, opening the door wider. "Come in." Clara smiled, stepping inside. "Hi, Mrs. Johnson. I got home and realized nobody was there. My mom must have thought I was coming straight here, so she went out to run some errands. Dad’s away on a business trip" "Well, you’re always welcome here. You can have dinner with us. Sally’s upstairs in her room. You can go right up," Bridget said warmly. "Thanks!" Clara replied, heading up the stairs. Meanwhile, Sally was in her ensuite bathroom, completely unaware of Clara’s early arrival. She had expected Clara to come after dinner, so she hadn’t tidied her room. The open package of pull-ups was still visibly on her bed, a sight that would definitely require an explanation. Sally froze when she heard Clara's cheerful voice from her bedroom. "Sally, it’s me! I came early. Hope you don’t mind!" Panic surged through Sally. Sitting on the toilet with her pants around her ankles, she was totally unable to do anything about it. Clara was here, right now, and she could definitely see the Goodnites package on the bed. She hoped – she knew - Clara would eventually understand, but the situation was mortifying. How was she going to explain this? She trusted Clara fully, yet the embarrassment of the situation was overwhelming. "Sally?" Clara called again, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Are you in the bathroom? I can wait." "Uh, yeah!" Sally called back, her voice shaking slightly. "Just a minute!" Her mind raced. She couldn’t just leave Clara waiting out there, but she wasn’t ready to face her either. She desperately needed an angle, some way to make this less awkward. She thought about how Clara had been open about her love for footed pajamas, just as Sally had been. Maybe there was a way to use that to ease into the topic. But no matter how she spun it, footed pajamas seemed quirky and cute, while Goodnites felt embarrassing and childish. She groaned inwardly, wishing she had a better plan. In the bedroom, Clara noticed the Goodnites on the bed. Her curiosity piqued, but she didn’t feel judgmental, just puzzled. She wondered why Sally had them out like this. She realized, suddenly, that her coming early wasn’t to her friend’s advantage. Finally, Sally gathered her courage and got up from the toilet, flushed it and pulled her pants up. She opened the bathroom door, stepping out with a forced smile. "Hey, Clara. Didn’t expect you so early." Clara smiled back and gave her friend a quick hug. Her eyes flicking to the bed and then back to Sally, apologetically. "Yeah, my mom wasn’t home, so I came here. Hope that’s okay. Your mom said I could stay for dinner". "Of course, does she know how much you eat?" Sally chuckled, trying to sound casual. She saw Clara glance at the pull-ups again, and she felt her cheeks burning. "Uh, about those…" Clara raised an eyebrow but kept her expression kind. "Are you a bedwetter? Nocturnal enuresis, I’ve heard about it. It’s really not a big deal, you know. Lots of teenagers deal with nocturnal enuresis. I read that about 1 in 50 teenagers still wet the bed occasionally. There’s a whole industry making diapers for teens, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of." Sally's face turned a deeper shade of red. "They’re not for bedwetting. I mean, not exactly. And they’re pull-ups, not diapers." Clara gave her a knowing, condescending but friendly smile. "Sally, they really are the same thing. Pull-ups, diapers, they serve the same purpose. And honestly, if they help you stay dry, who cares?" Sally sighed, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. "I guess you’re right. It’s just… sometimes they make me feel more secure, especially after the car accident and all. It’s hard to explain." Clara’s face softened with understanding. "Hey, I get it. Everyone has their own way of coping. Remember when I told you I like wearing footed pajamas? It’s kind of the same thing, right? We all need our comforts." Sally felt a wave of relief. "Thanks, Clara. I was worried you’d think it was weird." Clara laughed gently. "Sally, we’re friends. We all have our quirks. Yours just happens to be more practical than mine. Plus, those footed pajamas I wear are pretty childish too, if you think about it. At least you found a way not to chill your tits off when you’re using the toilet. Sally giggled at Clara’s forwardness, feeling the tension melt away. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. I have to admit, that’s what got me into wearing pull-ups. I didn’t feel I was enjoying my new pajamas. Thanks for understanding." "Anytime," Clara said, plopping down on the bed beside the Goodnites’ package. "Now, let’s get started on that history before I get distracted by your amazing taste in underwear." Sally laughed, joining her friend on the bed. The situation had turned out better than she’d feared, and she felt grateful for Clara’s unwavering support. As they delved into their studies, Sally knew she had a friend she could truly count on, quirks and all. Sally sat on her bed, her mind racing even as she tried to focus on the history notes spread out before her. Clara's reaction to the pull-ups had been unexpectedly positive, not awkward at all, a weight lifted off her shoulders. But now that the initial relief had faded, new worries began to creep in. Clara knowing about the pull-ups was a significant step, but where would that lead? Would it be the start of a slippery slope, going further down the rabbit hole? Sally wondered what would happen if someone else found out. She trusted Clara, and she was almost certain Katrina would be supportive as well. Katrina was wild and free-spirited, always embracing the unconventional. But how would this new development affect their friendships? As Sally pondered these questions, her thoughts drifted back to the accident. The trauma had left a deep mark on her psyche, and the pull-ups had become a coping mechanism, a way to regain a sense of control and security. She had learned about Posttraumatic Growth (PTG), a phenomenon where individuals experience positive psychological changes following a traumatic event. Was this her way of experiencing PTG? Or was it just PTSD and she just didn’t like the sound of it? The pull-ups, while initially embarrassing, had provided her with a sense of comfort and safety that she desperately needed. They had helped her manage the lingering fears and anxieties that the accident had instilled in her. She had been so worried about developing PTSD, but perhaps this was her unique way of coping, of growing stronger and more resilient. Sally glanced at Clara, who was engrossed in reading the history paper. She admired her friend's ability to accept her quirks without judgment. Clara had assured her that it was okay to have unique coping mechanisms, and that everyone dealt with their issues in different ways. Clara's mention of the statistics about bedwetting had also been surprisingly comforting. It reminded her that she wasn't alone, that there were others like her who needed similar comforts. She thought about the practicality of the Goodnites. They had saved her from some moments of anxiety and near-accidents already. They provided a safety net that allowed her to navigate her day with more confidence. The security they offered was undeniable, and she found herself enjoying that sense of assurance, even if it came with a bit of embarrassment. Sally sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn't know where this journey would take her, but she was ready to embrace it. She had learned that coping mechanisms, no matter how unconventional, were valid and necessary for healing. She was determined to find a balance between her need for security and her desire for independence. As she continued to check her history notes, Sally felt a newfound sense of acceptance and understanding. She was grateful for Clara's support and looked forward to seeing how Katrina would react. She knew that no matter what, she had people who cared about her and would stand by her side. She took a deep breath, feeling the familiar crinkle of the Goodnites package on the bed, as Clara brushed it with her arm. It was a reminder of her journey; of the progress she had made since the accident. She wasn't sure what the future held, but she was confident that she could face it with courage and resilience. For now, she would focus on her studies, on her friendships, and on her own growth. She was determined to navigate this new chapter of her life with an open mind and a hopeful heart. And with friends like Clara by her side, she knew she could handle whatever came her way. -- As the evening wore on, Sally and Clara continued their study session, their conversation occasionally drifting back to lighter topics and shared jokes. Despite the earlier tension, the atmosphere in the room was now one of warmth and camaraderie. Dinner had been a pleasant affair and the three had had an easy conversation, enjoying Bridget’s culinary talents. "Remember Mr. Briggs' lecture on the formation of political parties?" Clara asked, a playful glint in her eye. "I swear, he could make a rollercoaster sound boring”. They both chuckled at the old joke. Sally was grateful for the focus in subject. "Oh, absolutely. How about the fact that Hamilton would be all about online banking today." Clara giggled. "And Jefferson would totally be a farmers' market enthusiast." That isn’t here in your notes. Sally nodded, feeling in sync with Clara. "It's amazing how different their visions were, yet both had such a lasting impact on our government." Clara smiled, impressed. "You always find a way to make history interesting, Sally. Maybe you should be the one giving the lectures." Sally blushed slightly. "Thanks, Clara. I guess I just like connecting the dots between the past and the present and apply what we can learn. My forte is math". The conversation flowed easily, and Sally felt herself relaxing more with each passing moment. Clara's acceptance and understanding had lifted a significant burden from her shoulders. She realized that she didn't have to navigate her journey alone. She had friends who supported her, quirks and all. As the clock ticked closer to bedtime, Sally felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a while. She knew there would be challenges ahead, but she also knew she had the strength to face them. The Goodnites were a part of her coping strategy, but they didn't define her. They were just one of many tools she had to navigate her path toward healing and growth. She hadn’t even put the Goodnites away, leaving them on the bed as a testimonial to their mutual trust. "Thanks for coming over early, Clara," Sally said softly as they began to pack up their books. "It means a lot to me." Clara smiled warmly. "Anytime, Sally. We're in this together." Bridget knocked gently on the door and peeked in. "How's it going in here, girls?" Sally smiled up at her mom. "We're just finishing up, Mom. Clara's been a huge help." Bridget stepped into the room, startled at seeing the Goodnites package visible on the bed. She displayed a playful glint in her eye. "Well, since you two are having such a good time, how about Clara stays for a sleepover?" Clara's eyes lit up. "I'd love that!" She turned to Sally with a mischievous grin. "But I'll stay only if Sally wears her Goodnites." Sally's cheeks flushed a bit. "Deal. But only if you wear a footed pajama with me." Clara chuckled and held up her hands. "Fair enough! But just to be clear, though, I'm not wearing Goodnites under it", she stated, defensively. Bridget watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and relief. She was glad Clara knew about the pull-ups and even more pleased to see how supportive she was. "Sounds like a plan then. I'll drive you both to school in the morning. Clara, give me your clothes so I can put them in the washer. They’ll be clean in the morning”. "Thanks, Mrs. B," Clara said, grinning. "This is going to be fun." Sally felt a warm sense of gratitude as she looked at her mom and her friend. "Yeah, thanks, Mom. And thanks, Clara." "Anytime," Clara replied, giving Sally a friendly nudge. "Now let's get ready for our sleepover." The girls quickly transformed Sally's room into a cozy sleepover haven. Sally pulled out her favorite pair of footed pajamas and handed them to Clara. Sally, accustomed to being naked around other girls, didn’t realize at first Clara’s reluctance to undress in front of her. But she realized Clara made an effort to be nonchalant about it, in acceptance to sharing Sally’s secret, and watched as Clara discreetly turned around to strip off her school uniform. Clara slipped into the soft fabric, laughing as she admired the whimsical design. "These are so comfy, even with no panties on" Clara giggled, twirling around. "I might just have to think about wearing them like this at home", she stated, since she needed to wash her underwear as well. Sally grinned as she shyly put on her Goodnites in front of Clara - who pretended not to be really looking - and her own footed pajamas. "I told you they're great. Now we match!" Bridget popped her head back in, smiling at the sight of the girls in their matching pajamas. "You two look adorable. Do you need anything before I head to bed?", she asked, taking Clara’s bundle of clothes. "We're good, thanks," Sally replied, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "Goodnight then. Sleep tight, and don't stay up too late," Bridget said, giving them a wink before leaving the room. Clara yawned and snuggled on one side of Sally’s Queen-size bed. "This has been a great day, Sally. Thanks for having me over." "Thanks for being here," Sally replied, her voice soft with emotion. "I'm really glad you're my friend." "Me too," Clara said, smiling. "Now, let's get some sleep. We've got school tomorrow." Chapter 17 – War and Peace "Thanks for the ride, Mrs. B!" Clara called out as she closed the car door. "Have a great day, girls!" Bridget replied, smiling warmly as she drove off. Sally and Clara walked side by side, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. They were chatting casually as they made their way to class. "Do you think Katrina’s already in the classroom?" Sally asked, glancing at the time on her phone. "Probably," Clara replied. "She’s always early. But you know, it’s a good thing it wasn’t Katrina who found your Goodnites. She would’ve teased you mercilessly." Sally’s eyes widened in horror. "That’s not true! Katrina is a loyal friend. She might tease about silly things, but she never judges, and she definitely wouldn’t share my secrets." Clara shrugged, a skeptical look on her face. "I don’t know, Sally. Katrina can be pretty ruthless with her jokes." Sally shook her head, feeling a surge of protectiveness towards Katrina. "Katrina can be a bit much with her teasing, but she’s never done anything to make me feel bad about myself. She’s always been there for me when it counts." Clara sighed, looking a bit distant. "I get that you two are close, especially with volleyball and all, but I’ve seen her be pretty harsh with others. I just don’t think she’d handle this the right way." Sally felt a pang of frustration. "Clara, you don’t understand. Katrina isn’t really like that. Besides, Katrina and I have a different kind of friendship. We spend so much time together; she knows me better than most people. Yes, she jokes around, but she wouldn’t betray me." Clara raised an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying you trust her more than me?" Sally was taken aback. "No, that’s not what I’m saying. I trust both of you. It’s just… different. You and I have a more serious, thoughtful friendship, and with Katrina, it’s more playful. But both are important to me. I didn’t even know how you would react. Although I knew you wouldn’t tease me, I sort of expected you to… pity me, think less of me. But you didn’t, you were super cool about it." Clara almost hugged Sally. She looked thoughtful for a moment, with a tear in her eye. "Maybe I’m just being overprotective. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, Sally. I guess I worry that Katrina might not take this seriously." Sally sighed, feeling torn. "I appreciate that you care, Clara. Really, I do. But I need to believe that Katrina would be supportive. I don’t want to think that my friend would let me down when it matters." Just then, they heard a voice behind them. "Hey, did I just hear my name?", said a voice, jovially. Both girls turned to see Katrina, who had apparently been following them. Her expression was curious and expectant. She hadn’t heard about the pull-ups, but she had caught the tail end of their conversation mentioning her. Sally and Clara exchanged a quick, worried glance, but neither of them spoke. Katrina stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What’s going on? Why are you talking about me behind my back?" Sally bit her lip, trying to find the right words. "Katrina, nothing, just...". Sally was too sincere to tell a lie, but she didn’t want to say what they had been talking about. Katrina crossed her arms, clearly not satisfied with the vague response. "Then what is it? Why won’t you tell me?" Clara looked away, her face tense. "It’s just... something private. It’s not about you, really." Katrina’s expression hardened. "It sure sounds like it is. It’s clearly about me, so why are you whispering and acting all secretive?" Sally felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She hated seeing Katrina upset, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain. "Katrina, please believe me. It’s not something we can talk about right now”, she said, on a pained expression. Katrina looked from Sally to Clara, then back again. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But it feels pretty crappy to be left out, “amigas”". She made a point to emphasize the last word. The three girls walked in silence to their classroom, the tension between them palpable. Sally’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to mend the rift that had suddenly formed between them. She knew Katrina was hurt and felt excluded, but the thought of revealing her embarrassing secret was too much to bear. As they entered the classroom, they found their seats without a word. Katrina sat down; her face set in a stony expression. Clara glanced at Sally and saw the mixture of guilt and frustration in her eyes. The bell rang, and their teacher began the lesson, but the usual camaraderie between the three friends was missing. They spent the day in silence, each girl lost in her own thoughts. Clara questioned Katrina’s trustworthiness, Sally defended her friend’s loyalty but was too scared to divulge her secret, and Katrina felt the sting of exclusion and suspicion. The tension lingered throughout the day, casting a shadow over their usual lighthearted interactions. As the school day drew to a close, the silence between them remained, a stark contrast to their usual chatter and laughter. Sally knew that something had to be done to resolve the situation, but she wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap that had formed. She hoped that with time, they could find a way to restore their friendship and trust, but for now, the path ahead seemed uncertain and fraught with challenges. All because of her Goodnites. -- Sally pushed open the front door, her backpack slung over one shoulder. The familiar scent of home filled her nostrils—cooking spices, fresh laundry, and the faint floral notes of her mother’s favorite air freshener. The house was quiet except for the gentle hum of appliances and her mother working in the kitchen. She closed the door softly, trying not to disturb the peace. “Sally, how was school today?” Bridget asked, glancing up from chopping vegetables. Sally shrugged, dropping her backpack by the door and slipping off her shoes. “It was fine, Mom. Just a normal day.” Bridget wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked over to Sally, giving her a one arm hug. “That’s good to hear. How did the sleepover with Clara go? You two seemed to get along better than I would have imagined.” Sally forced a smile. “Yeah, it was great. We basically talked, but we were tired, I guess. School nights don’t make the best sleepovers.” Bridget nodded, studying her daughter’s face carefully. “Clara’s a good friend. She’s always been there for you.” Sally nodded, her smile wavering. “Yeah, she is.” Bridget took a deep breath, deciding to broach the subject gently. “Sally, can we talk for a minute about something important?” Sally stiffened, her heart rate quickening. “Sure, Mom. What’s up?” Bridget guided her to the living room, where they both sat down on the couch. “I wanted to talk about your pull-ups. I noticed that Clara knows about them, and I’m curious how she found out”, Bridget stated, in her direct fashion. Sally’s face turned red, and she looked away, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Mom.” Bridget reached out and gently touched Sally’s arm. “I understand it’s a sensitive topic, but it’s important that we discuss it. Clara seems very supportive, and that’s a good thing. But I need to know how she found out. It’s just to help you, sweetheart.” Sally’s eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it…”, her voice broke. Bridget sighed softly. “I know this is hard for you, but we need to talk about it. Clara’s friendship is commendable, and I think it’s great that she supports you. But I also want to know how you’re feeling about wearing the pull-ups. Did you wear one to school today?” Sally’s shoulders slumped, and she started to tremble. “Mom, please…” Bridget continued gently, “How are you finding the experience of wearing them, Sally? Are they helping you feel more secure?” That was when Sally broke down. The dam of emotions she had been holding back burst, and she began to cry. “No, Mom, it’s not helping! It’s making everything worse!”, she cried. Bridget was taken aback, her heart aching for her daughter. “Sally, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Through her tears, Sally began to pour out her feelings. “Of course it’s not going well! You found out I was peeing myself at the restaurant and waddling afterwards. Just by looking! Clara found out by accident when she came over early. And even Dolores knows because she saw them in my room while cleaning. I know Katrina will have to know sooner or later! Everyone is finding out, Mom, and I feel so humiliated!”. Sally cried, unable to speak any more. Bridget’s eyes filled with tears as she listened to her daughter’s pain. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.” Sally continued, her voice trembling with frustration and desperation. “I thought the pull-ups would help me feel better, but now I feel even more insecure. I’m so scared that more people will find out. I feel like an inadequate teenager, like I’m failing at everything. I thought I could find solace in my pull-ups, but now I don’t know what to do. I’m desperate, Mom. I feel like curling up in my bed and never coming out. I just want to fall asleep and forget everything.” Bridget pulled Sally into a tight embrace, letting her cry, rocking her gently. “Sally, it’s okay. You’re not inadequate. You’re a wonderful, strong, and brave girl. We’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to go through this alone.” Sally sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. Her hiccups prevented her from talking correctly. “I don’t know… what to do, Mom. I don’t know… how to make this better.” Bridget stroked Sally’s hair, her own tears falling freely. “We’ll find a way, Sally. We’ll get through this. We’ll talk and come up with a plan that works for you. You’re not alone in this, I promise.” “Talk? How?”, said Sally, not understanding. “Let’s talk to somebody who knows about things like this. I think I can find a counselor who can give us some insight into this”, her mother said, measuring her words. “Counselor? Like, a therapist?”, she asked curiously, behind her tears. Bridged chuckled softly. “A psychologist. A shrink. Call it what you want. But we need to get some proper answers form somebody who knows.” Sally clung to her mother, her sobs gradually subsiding. “I just want to feel normal, Mom. I don’t want to be scared all the time.” Bridget kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll find a way to help you feel safe and secure. We’ll talk to a therapist and see what she suggests. You’re not alone in this, Sally. I’m here for you, every step of the way.” As they sat together on the couch, Bridget felt a renewed sense of determination. She would do whatever it took to help Sally navigate this difficult time. She would talk to Pamela and find someone who could help them and find a solution that would give Sally the security and confidence she needed. Sally felt a glimmer of hope. Now she only wished she could restore the tensions between her, Katrina and Clara. -- In the school driveway, Katrina sat in the back seat of the black Suburban waiting for Sally and Clara to arrive. Katrina’s thoughts were focused solely on her friends. She didn’t like the tension and the distance that had grown between them, and it was time to resolve it. If they had something against her, she wanted them to say it in her face. As Sally and Clara approached, Katrina waved them over with a diplomatic attitude. "Hey, you two. Thanks for coming." Sally smiled back, feeling a mix of nerves and relief. She was grateful for the chance to make things right. "Thanks for inviting us, Katrina." Clara nodded, still wary but willing to give the meeting a chance. "Yeah, thanks." “Vamos a casa, Maja”, said Katrina. “Oh, this is Maja, she’s my bodyguard, so don’t try anything funny”, she boasted. That seemed to break the tension. The girls laughed at Katrina’s characterization of her dad’s driver as a bodyguard. “En serio, Katrina?”, called out Maja. “I didn’t know I was your bodyguard. I didn’t get a raise, you know. So be careful, somebody bad can get you”, she said in her heavily accented English, winking at the rearview mirror, while chewing gum At the mansion, Katrina led them through the grand foyer and up the sweeping staircase to her room. Her room was spacious and elegantly decorated, but she had made sure it was comfortable and welcoming. She gestured for them to sit on the plush rug in the center of the room. "Alright, amigas, let’s get straight to it," Katrina said, sitting down with them. "We need to talk about what’s been going on. I hate feeling this distance between us." Sally took a deep breath, her confidence bolstered by her recent conversation with her mother. "You’re right, Katrina. We do need to talk. There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s really important. Well maybe not, but you’ll be the judge" Katrina nodded; her expression serious but open. "Go ahead, Sally. I’m listening." Sally glanced at Clara, who gave her a reassuring nod. "Okay. The reason Clara and I have been so secretive is because… well, I’ve been wearing pull-ups. It started after the car accident. They help me feel secure, but it’s been really hard to talk about." Katrina’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself. "Pull-ups? Like, diapers?" Sally nodded, her cheeks flushing. "Yeah. And Clara found out by accident. She was worried you’d tease me, but I know you wouldn’t. I just didn’t know how to bring it up." Katrina’s expression softened, and she started to laugh, not out of mockery but out of sheer relief and amusement. "Oh my gosh, Sally! You were worried about that? You know I would never judge you for something like that. I love you even more for being brave enough to share this with me. Besides, I bet you look cute in diapers!" Sally blushed, but smiled, glad to see Katrina being herself. Clara, watching Katrina’s reaction carefully, felt a wave of relief. "You’re not upset or anything?" Katrina shook her head, still smiling. "Not at all. Sally, if pull-ups make you feel better, then who cares? We all have our things. And Clara, I get why you were worried, but you should’ve trusted me like Sally did." Sally felt tears of relief welling up in her eyes. "Thank you, Katrina. I’m so glad you understand." Katrina pulled both girls into a hug. "Of course I understand. We’re friends, right? And friends support each other, no matter what." Clara joined the hug, her skepticism melting away. "I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Katrina. I just wanted to protect Sally." Katrina squeezed them tighter. "I know, Clara. And I love you for that. But next time, let’s talk things out, okay? We’re stronger together. Besides, if I wanted to make fun of Sally I could do it any day, you should see the way she plays volleyball!”. The three girls sat back, the tension that had lingered for so long finally dissolving. Katrina’s room, with its elegant furnishings and cozy atmosphere, felt like a safe haven for their friendship to heal and grow. Katrina grinned at them, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about we celebrate our renewed friendship with some snacks? I have a stash of goodies in the kitchen." Sally and Clara laughed, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off their shoulders. "That sounds perfect," Sally said, feeling a newfound sense of optimism. Katrina turned to Sally and whispered: “Are you wearing them now?” “What?”, asked Sally, perplexed. “Oh, the pull-ups! No”, she rolled her eyes. I don’t wear them all the time. “When do you wear them?”, demanded Katrina, a bit louder this time. “Like, with my pajamas and stuff”, Sally said, vaguely. Clara interrupted from the doorway. “Hey, are you coming or what?”, she demanded, frowning. “Claro”, responded Katrina, promptly. As they headed to the kitchen, arm in arm, Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for the support of her friends, even counting in Katrina’s forwardness, which was inoffensive. The darkness that had clouded her mind was lifting. In the grand kitchen of the mansion, the girls raided the pantry, giggling and joking as they filled their arms with snacks. They returned to Katrina’s room, where they spent the afternoon talking, laughing, and rebuilding the trust that had been momentarily lost. Chapter 18 – Proof of Friendship Mrs. Hargrove's philosophy class was the most talked-about elective at school. Known for her liberal teaching methods and open-minded discussions, she had a knack for making complex philosophical concepts accessible and engaging. Today, the class was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for another thought-provoking session, “Introduction to Philosophy”. Clara, Katrina, and Sally, three friends with a penchant for deep conversations, sat together as usual. Mrs. Hargrove entered the room, her warm smile and vibrant presence instantly capturing everyone's attention. "Good morning, everyone! Today, we're going to dive into some fascinating themes in philosophy: Existentialism, Phenomenology, and Ethics and Morality. But first, let's start with a quick question: What do you think philosophy is about?" Hands shot up around the room. "It's about thinking deeply," said one student. "It's about questioning everything," added another. Mrs. Hargrove nodded appreciatively. "Exactly. Philosophy is about exploring the big questions in life, understanding different perspectives, and seeking wisdom." She wrote three words on the board: Existentialism, Phenomenology, and Ethics. “They may sound complicated and dull, but they have profound implications for our understanding of life”. "Let's start with Existentialism," she said, turning to face the class. "Existentialism is a philosophical movement that emphasizes individual freedom, choice, and responsibility. It's about the idea that we create our own meaning in life. Jean-Paul Sartre, one of the key existentialist thinkers, believed that 'existence precedes essence'—meaning we exist first and then define ourselves through our actions." Clara raised her hand. "So, it's like saying we have the freedom to be whoever we want to be?" "Exactly," Mrs. Hargrove replied. "We are not born with a pre-defined purpose. We have the freedom and the responsibility to create our own identity and meaning." She moved on to Phenomenology. "Phenomenology, on the other hand, is about the study of experiences. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, a key figure in phenomenology, focused on how we experience the world through our bodies. It's about being aware of our sensations, perceptions, and how we interact with our environment." Katrina was intrigued. "So, it's about being present and aware of what we're experiencing right now?" "Precisely," Mrs. Hargrove said. "It's about understanding the world from a first-person perspective, emphasizing our embodied experience." Lastly, she turned to Ethics and Morality. "Ethics and morality deal with questions of right and wrong, good and bad. They explore how we should live and what kind of actions are morally acceptable. Different cultures and societies have different moral codes, which brings us to the concept of ethical relativism—the idea that moral norms are not absolute but vary across cultures." She paused, letting the information sink in, then asked, "Now, let's analyze a real-life example. Can anyone think of a modern-day topic that is controversial and ties into these philosophical themes?" The students exchanged glances, whispering among themselves. Clara, Katrina, and Sally exchanged knowing looks and then Clara raised her hand. "What about nudism?" she suggested. Some local gyms had made the news proposing nudist friendly timeslots for their pools. There were gasps and muffled cheers in the classroom. Mrs. Hargrove smiled, clearly pleased with the suggestion. "Excellent choice, Clara. Nudism is indeed a controversial topic that we can analyze through the lenses of existentialism, phenomenology, and ethics." She turned back to the class. "Let's break it down. From an existentialist perspective, how might nudism be seen?" Katrina, always eager to participate on any polemic subjects, spoke up "Nudism is like a way to show off your freedom and be real. By going nude, people are saying 'no' to society's rules and just being their true selves." "Exactly," Mrs. Hargrove nodded. "Nudism allows individuals to define themselves on their own terms, free from societal expectations." "Now, how about phenomenology?" she asked. "What does nudism offer in terms of embodied experience?" Sally, thoughtful as always, chimed in. "Being naked helps you really feel and be aware of your body. It lets you experience the world more directly, without clothes getting in the way. It's all about embracing your natural self and being fully present." "Precisely," Mrs. Hargrove agreed. "Phenomenologically, nudism promotes a deeper connection with our own bodies and the environment." "And finally, let's discuss ethics," she continued. "How does nudism challenge societal norms and moral judgments?" Clara raised her hand again. " Nudism goes against society's rules and makes us rethink what we think is right or wrong. What's acceptable changes depending on the culture. Some places think being naked is normal, while others find it wrong. Questioning these rules can help us be more open-minded and inclusive." "Well said, Clara," Mrs. Hargrove praised. "Nudism prompts us to reconsider our ethical standards and the cultural context in which they arise." The class buzzed with interest; students clearly engaged by the lively discussion. Mrs. Hargrove beamed at the engaged faces before her. "Philosophy encourages us to question, explore, and understand. Whether it's through existential freedom, phenomenological experience, or ethical inquiry, we learn to see the world in new and profound ways." -- After Mrs. Hargrove's thought-provoking philosophy class, Clara, Katrina, and Sally couldn't stop thinking about their discussion on nudism. The topic intrigued them, and they found themselves revisiting it later that afternoon in Katrina's spacious bedroom at her family's mansion. Katrina's room was a haven of comfort and style, with plush carpeting, oversized bean bags, and a large TV mounted on the wall. The walls were adorned with posters of bands, travel destinations, and inspirational quotes. As the three friends settled in, the conversation naturally drifted back to the day's lesson. "So, what did you guys think about our nudism discussion in class?" Clara asked, lounging on a bean bag and tossing a stress ball in the air. "I thought it was fascinating," Katrina said, her eyes lighting up. "I mean, going against society's rules and just being our true selves... it's pretty freeing, right?" Sally, sitting cross-legged on the floor, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's definitely an interesting concept. But, I don't know, it's one thing to talk about it and another to actually do it." Katrina leaned forward, her mischievous smile indicating she had an idea. "Why don't we try it? Just us, right here. We can spend the afternoon like we usually do—talking, watching videos, singing karaoke—but, you know, without our clothes on." Clara's eyes widened. "You mean... really try nudism? Here, in your room?" "Why not?" Katrina said, her excitement growing. "It’s a safe space, and it could be a fun way to see if what we talked about in class really holds true. Plus, it’s a great way to prove our friendship and trust in each other." Sally looked hesitant but intrigued. She was thankful she had refrained from wearing her Goodnites. "I guess it could help us get closer. We'd definitely have to be super comfortable with each other." Clara took a deep breath and raised her hand. "Okay, not so quick”, she said, reasonably. “Since when do we need to get naked to get closer, comfortable with each other, to prove our friendship?" She paused, letting the question hang in the air, her eyes scanning the faces of her friends. Sally looked thoughtful, while Katrina's expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity. "I mean, I get that we're all trying to understand ourselves better and be more open with each other," Clara continued, her tone measured. "But does that really mean we have to strip down and expose ourselves physically to do that? Friendship is about trust, honesty, and supporting each other through thick and thin, right?" Clara shifted slightly, leaning forward as she gathered her thoughts. "Look, I know we've been through a lot together. We've shared secrets, fears, and dreams. We've seen each other at our best and our worst. But why does being naked have to be part of that equation?" She glanced at Katrina, her gaze steady. "Katrina, you're one of the bravest, most confident people I know. You have this amazing ability to make everyone feel included and accepted. But sometimes, I think you push boundaries just to see what happens, without considering how it might make others feel." Clara turned to Sally, her voice softening. "Sally, you're one of the kindest and most understanding friends I've ever had. You always put others first, and you're incredibly brave for facing everything you've gone through. But I worry that you're agreeing to things just to keep the peace, without thinking about what you really want." She sighed, feeling the weight of her words. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that we don't need to prove our friendship by getting naked. We prove it by being there for each other, by listening and supporting each other, and by respecting each other's boundaries." Clara's gaze shifted between her friends; her eyes filled with sincerity. "If being naked is something you both truly want to explore, then fine. But let's make sure it's because we all genuinely want it and not because we feel pressured or think it's the only way to show our closeness." She took another deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "Friendship is about more than just physical closeness. It's about emotional and mental connection. It's about understanding and accepting each other, no matter what." Clara's voice softened, her eyes reflecting the deep bond she felt with her friends. "I love you both, and I want us to be honest with each other. Let's talk about what we really need and want from our friendship. Let's make sure we're all comfortable and happy with the choices we make." She leaned back, her monologue complete, her heart still racing. The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Clara could see the thoughtful expressions on Sally and Katrina's faces, and she hoped that her message had reached them. As the silence lingered, Clara felt a sense of relief. She had spoken her truth, and now it was up to her friends to respond. No matter what happened next, she knew that their friendship was strong enough to handle the challenges and changes they faced. Katrina was the first to break the silence, her voice thoughtful. "Clara, you're right. I guess I sometimes push boundaries without thinking. I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable." Sally nodded; her expression reflective. "I appreciate your honesty, Clara. I think we should talk more about what we're comfortable with and what we want from each other as friends." Clara smiled, feeling a sense of hope and gratitude. "Thanks, guys. That's all I wanted. Let's keep being honest and supporting each other, no matter what." Katrina frowned. "Exactly. I take it back. It doesn’t make sense. We shouldn’t resort to such mechanisms. Alright, let’s make a pact. No judging, no awkwardness, just us being our true selves. Just as we are. In our… nun-school uniforms", she smiled slyly. Sally, partially relived, cheerfully filed Katrina’s statement in her memory for any future awkwardness her pull-ups, or even diapers might cause. "So, what should we do first?" Sally asked, breaking the tension with a giggle and fighting the urge to imagine what it would have been like to prance around naked with her friends. Clara was crossing her arms across her chest, but Katrina was the boldest, holding her hands on her hips, in a confident and bossy manner. "Let’s start with our favorite," Katrina suggested. "Karaoke!" They spent the next hour belting out their favorite songs, laughing at their off-key notes, and cheering each other on. The initial awkwardness resulting from the challenging conversation faded away as they focused on the music and each other’s company. They forgot about philosophy, nudism and foreign concepts, their intimacy becoming just another aspect of their quirky identity, and they began to feel a newfound sense of freedom and authenticity. After karaoke, they settled down to watch some funny videos, lying comfortably on the bean bags and chatting casually, taking turns in selecting shorts they had previously watched. The conversation naturally drifted to deeper, more personal topics. The girls took a break to use Katrina’s ensuite bathroom. Sally admired her claw foot bathtub in the middle of the bathroom. She washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror, deep in thought. When she returned, both girls were sitting cross-legged on the floor. She sat down with them. "I’ve always felt so self-conscious about my body," Sally admitted, her voice soft. "But this open relationship... this feels kind of freeing. Like I’m finally accepting myself as I am." “You’ve got a nice body”, Katrina announced, having seen her naked in the school showers. “I almost expected you to be wearing your, uhm, pull-ups”, she confessed. She raised her hand to stall the obvious outcry from her friends. “I said, no awkwardness, and I meant it. What I mean is, Sally, never be shy or afraid around us. If you feel like wearing your pull-ups, heck, even if they are full-blown diapers, feel absolutely at ease, I swear I am not going to tease or anything”, she announced, her hand still raised. It was an awkward moment that demanded a hug, but Sally managed to swing her arm around Katrina and give her a half-hug. “Thanks”, she said. “It means a lot, and maybe I will”, she said in a giggle, separating from Katrina. Clara nodded. “I say the same. It’s like nudism, revealing and sharing, even participating in each other’s deepest secrets… I get that. I’ve always been worried about what others think of me. But being here, like this, with you guys, it makes me realize how much those thoughts don’t matter”, she said, visibly more relaxed. Katrina smiled warmly at her friends. "I think this is what the philosophy teacher was talking about. Being authentic, experiencing the world—and each other—without barriers. I’m really glad we are doing this." Clara leaned forward. “Sally, tell us about your pull-ups”. There was a frozen silence. “I mean…”, she hesitated, looking for the correct words. “We really feel for you. Since the car accident we were worried about you, looking for signs you were all right… now we don’t know if we should be worried or like it’s totally fine”, Clara said in a caring voice. “Since we’re opening our hearts out, maybe you could give us some insight on what’s going on. We want to know how to better support you”. Sally frowned. She wasn’t expecting trusting her friends would lead to this level of sincerity. Sally took a deep breath. "Okay, here it goes. After the accident, I started feeling really anxious, especially about going to the bathroom. I think buying footed pajamas sort of led me to it, I didn’t feel comfortable going to the bathroom, you have to take them almost completely off, it’s like the Pull-ups were a necessary addition. I realized it made me feel more in control to wear pull-ups, knowing I wouldn't have to worry about accidents or uncomfortable situations." Katrina and Clara listened intently, their faces showing understanding and compassion. Sally continued, "At first, I thought it was just a phase, but it became more than that. It’s not just about the control it gives me. I realized I actually kind of like it. The feeling of wearing them, the security, even the secrecy of it... there's something comforting about it. And yes, even using them sometimes. I also think they look nice on me”. Katrina, wide eyed, covered her mouth at Sally’s revelations. Clara raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, letting Sally continue. Sally took another deep breath. "But it’s not as easy as it sounds. I do have a lot of insecurities; anxieties, I guess you would call them. I haven’t started therapy yet, but I plan to. I’m hoping it can help me figure out how to manage this new... thing. But right now, I feel really lost. I don’t know what to do or how to feel about it. I know it’s not normal" Katrina nodded thoughtfully. "I get it, Sally. It’s a lot to deal with. But you’re not alone. We’re here for you, whatever you need." Clara added, "Absolutely. And it’s okay to feel confused or scared. We’ll figure it out together." Sally felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you, guys”. Katrina grinned suddenly. "You know what? I think it’s kind of cool that you’re exploring this part of yourself. It takes guts to be honest about what you’re going through." Clara nodded in agreement. "And if you ever need to talk or need any help, we’re here for you. No judgment, just support." Sally smiled, feeling a newfound sense of optimism. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. Do you have any suggestions on how I should handle this?" Katrina leaned back, thinking. She was pleased Sally was including them in offering possible insight to her dilemma. "Maybe you could start by wearing them more often. Like at home or when you’re with us. And as you get more comfortable, you can decide when and where you prefer using them." Clara nodded. "Yeah, good idea. Take it one step at a time and see how you feel." Sally felt a sense of hope. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll try that. Thanks, guys." “Definitely, our next sleepover is going to be interesting”, mused Katrina. “Well, I have to admit, Sally does look terribly cute in her pull-ups”, Clara couldn’t help commenting to Katrina. “Thanks, Clara”, said Sally, blushing profusely. She was thankful for Clara’s comment, because she knew Clara really meant it, and wasn’t making fun of her. “I can’t believe I just ‘fessed up, like about everything. Thanks for being so nice about it”, murmured Sally. Katrina reached out and squeezed Sally’s hand. "Anytime, Sally. We’re in this together." Clara smiled warmly. "Definitely. You’ve got this, Sally. And we’ve got your back." “And your front”, giggled Katrina. Sally couldn’t help but cover herself, as Katrina jokingly ogled her. Even dressed, Sally had the impression Katrina could see through her. “Katrina, be nice”, reprimanded Clara. They continued to share their thoughts and feelings, discussing insecurities, dreams, and the pressures they faced. The vulnerability of being emotionally exposed led to a level of openness they hadn’t experienced before. By the end of the afternoon, they felt a profound connection, a deepened bond of friendship and trust. They had tested the boundaries of their comfort zones and discovered a new level of intimacy and understanding. As they got their school bags and prepared to leave, Clara smiled at her friends. "Today was... incredible. I feel like we’ve grown so much closer." "Me too," Sally agreed. "I think we should do this more often. Not necessarily the deep emotional stuff, but just being open and totally honest with each other." Katrina smiled, her eyes shining with playfulness. “I was almost looking forward to the nudism part. You two look gorgeous. Absolutely. This is just the beginning of our journey together. The almost nudist trio!” Clara and Sally blushed. The three friends hugged tightly, knowing that their friendship had been strengthened in ways they never imagined. They left with a renewed sense of confidence and a promise to always support each other, no matter what. -- Bridget's red SUV pulled up the driveway outside Katrina's mansion. Sally said goodbye to her friends, a broad smile on her face, and hopped into the passenger seat, her heart light and her spirits high after an afternoon of deep conversations and newfound understanding. "Hey, sweetheart," Bridget greeted warmly as Sally climbed into the car. "How was your time with Clara and Katrina?" Sally beamed, closing the door and buckling her seatbelt. "It was amazing, Mom. We had the best time!" Bridget smiled, pulling away from the curb and heading towards home. "I'm so glad to hear that. What did you guys do?" "Well," Sally began, guarding her words, with no intention of revealing their near brush with nudity. "We started with some karaoke, and then we watched funny videos. But the best part was our conversation." Bridget glanced at her daughter, intrigued. "Oh? What did you talk about?" Sally took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Mom, I told them everything. About my pull-ups, the car accident, and even about starting therapy soon." Bridget's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. "You did? How did they react?" Sally couldn't suppress her smile. "They were so cool, Mom. Katrina was amazing. She told me that if wearing pull-ups makes me feel better, then I should do whatever I need to. She even said that I should wear my pull-ups around them if I wanted to" Bridget felt a wave of relief and pride. "That's wonderful, Sally. I'm so proud of you for being honest with your friends." "And Clara was great too," Sally continued. "At first, she was worried that Katrina might tease me, but she came around. She told me that they’re both here for me, no matter what. We even talked about how I like the feeling of wearing pull-ups and the security they give me. It was such a relief to be open with them." Bridget reached over and squeezed Sally's hand. "I'm so happy to hear that, honey. It sounds like you have some truly amazing friends." They got out of the car and walked into the house. Inside, it felt safe and familiar to Sally. Bridget set her keys down on the kitchen counter and turned to her daughter. “I’m so happy you have friends like Clara and Katrina." Sally smiled, feeling the warmth of her mother's love. "Me too, Mom. And I’m really looking forward to starting therapy with Dr. Thompson. I think it’s going to help me a lot." Bridget nodded. "I think so too. And remember, you can always talk to me about anything. I’m here for you, no matter what." "I know, Mom. Thank you," Sally said, hugging her mother tightly. “Now, go get out of this uniform and into your pull-ups”, said her mother, firmly. Sally skipped away happily. “Good girl!” Chapter 19 – Rabbit Hole Dr. Thompson began the session with a warm smile. “Hi, Sally. Hi, Bridget. How are you both feeling today?” Sally glanced at her mom before replying. “I’m okay, just a bit nervous.” Bridget nodded, squeezing Sally’s hand. “We’re doing alright, Dr. Thompson. Thank you for seeing us.” “Of course,” Dr. Thompson said, her tone reassuring. “Sally, I want you to know that this is a safe space where you can talk about anything that’s on your mind. There’s no judgment here. Are you ok with your mom being here? Because she doesn’t have to stay”. Sally nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’d like her to stay.” Dr. Thompson nodded. “Last time we spoke, your mom mentioned that you’ve been wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas to feel more comfortable and secure. Can you tell me more about how that makes you feel?” she asked gently. Sally hesitated about speaking openly. “Well, it’s kind of weird to talk about, but… I actually like wearing them. They make me feel safe. I don’t have to worry about accidents or feeling embarrassed”, she said. Dr. Thompson nodded, her expression encouraging. “That makes a lot of sense. These behaviors are your way of coping with the trauma from the car accident. Let’s explore why they help you feel secure and how we can support you better.” Sally looked down at her hands, feeling a bit more at ease. “It’s like… when I wear them, I feel like I don’t have to worry about anything. They are comforting, I guess”. “Sally, do you remember the last time you needed diapers?”, Dr. Thompson asked. “Besides now, I mean”, she clarified. Sally thought for a while. “Five? I think I was five when mom said I needed to stop wearing… well, they were pull-ups, so she potty trained me, I guess”. Bridget was nodding. Dr. Thompson nodded in encouragement. “Would you say wearing pull-ups now makes you remember your childhood fondly?”, she inquired. Sally nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like being a kid again when everything was simpler.” “Exactly,” Dr. Thompson said, smiling. “In Jungian psychology, we often talk about the collective unconscious and archetypes. One of these archetypes is the Inner Child, which represents the innocence and safety of childhood. By wearing garments of choice, you’re reconnecting with that Inner Child, creating a sense of security for yourself.” Sally’s lost stare made Dr. Thompson rephrase. “There's this idea called the collective unconscious, which is like a shared set of memories and ideas that all humans have. One part of this is called archetypes, which are universal symbols or themes. One of these archetypes is the Inner Child” Sally nodded, urging her on Dr. Thompson continued. “Sally, an archetype is a common symbol or pattern that everyone recognizes, like a hero or a mother figure. It's a universal idea that shows up in stories and dreams everywhere. The Inner Child represents the innocence and feeling of safety we had when we were kids. By wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas, you're connecting with that Inner Child part of yourself, helping you feel safe and secure like you did when you were younger." Sally’s eyes widened with understanding. “My “little” side! it’s like I’m trying to feel safe like I did when I was a kid?” “Precisely,” Dr. Thompson said. “This is a form of symbolic self-healing. It allows you to process your trauma in a non-verbal and intuitive way. These behaviors help you access feelings of comfort and protection that are very important for your healing journey.” Bridget looked at Dr. Thompson, her concern evident. “So, what can I do to support Sally? How can I help her feel more secure?” It depends. In one way I could think of it as a superficial whim, but we know it’s far deeper than that. Many times, we are able to hide our feelings, but one time too many they surface and need to get out. Hence the crying, yelling hysterics… “That’s exactly what happened to me”, Sally whispered. Bridget gave a knowing look at her daughter. “That’s why I think it’s important we take care to address this in a healthy fashion”, said Dr. Thompson. Bridget and Sally leaned closer to the doctor. Dr. Thompson turned to Bridget; her expression thoughtful. “It’s important to create an environment where Sally feels safe and understood. Encouraging her to wear these comforting items – her pull-ups - when she feels anxious can be very helpful. In fact,”, she paused, “it might be beneficial to move beyond pull-ups to actual diapers. Diapers can provide an even greater sense of security and comfort.” Sally looked shocked, her eyes widening. “Diapers? Like a real baby? No way. That’s too much.” Bridget held Sally’s hand tightly. Dr. Thompson remained calm. “I understand that this might seem like a big step, Sally. But think about it—if pull-ups provide you with comfort and security, diapers might enhance that feeling even more. It’s about finding what works best for you. Exploring this “little” side in all its potential” Sally shook her head, feeling a mix of emotions. “But I’m not a baby. Wearing real diapers would be so embarrassing.” Bridget gently placed her other hand on Sally’s arm. “Sweetheart, if it helps you feel better, maybe it’s worth trying. We’re here to support you.” Sally felt a knot in her stomach. She secretly felt an attraction to the idea but didn’t want to admit it. “I don’t know… it just feels so weird.” She tried picturing herself in diapers. What did they look like, for someone her size? Dr. Thompson leaned forward, her voice soothing. “Sally, this isn’t about being a baby. It’s about addressing your needs and finding what makes you feel secure. Many people use various tools and strategies to cope with anxiety and trauma. There’s nothing wrong with finding what works for you.” Sally bit her lip, still resistant. “But what if someone finds out?” Dr. Thompson raised her hand to calm her. “You are emphasizing embarrassment, shame. How about turning around from that and pursuing comfort, exploration, freedom, curiosity, discovery?”, she discoursed, passionately. “There is nothing you need to be ashamed of, as you stated yourself, insisting your mother stay, which is a choice I admire greatly”. Dr. Thompson continued: “Your privacy is important, and we can work on ways to ensure you feel comfortable and secure without worrying about others finding out,” she reassured her. “This is about your well-being, and taking care of yourself should be your top priority.” Bridget nodded in agreement. “We can make sure it’s just between us, Sally. No one else needs to know.” Sally looked down, feeling torn. She remembered the overwhelming sense of security the pull-ups gave her and couldn’t deny the pull of the idea, even if it felt embarrassing. “I guess… if it really helps, I could try.” She remembered Katrina and Clara’s advice, saying she should take things one step at a time. And then deal with them when they came. Were diapers the next step? At least she already knew she could count on their support. Dr. Thompson smiled, seeing Sally’s resolve. “That’s all we’re asking, Sally. Just try it and see how you feel. It’s a process, and it’s important to take it one step at a time.” Sally took a deep breath, feeling a bit more determined. “Okay. I’ll try.” “Diapers, I am going to wear diapers”, Sally’s thoughts were spinning. “Wonderful,” Dr. Thompson said, pleased with Sally’s willingness. “Bridget, it will be helpful if you can gently introduce the idea and make it a part of your routine. For instance, if you notice Sally is feeling anxious, you can put her in a diaper as a way to help her relax and feel secure.” Bridget smiled at her daughter, her eyes filled with love and support. “We’ll get through this together, sweetheart.” Sally nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “Thanks, Mom.” Dr. Thompson continued, “Remember, this is part of Sally’s individuation process, a key concept in Jungian psychology. By accepting and understanding her need for these comforts, Sally is integrating her past experiences with her present self, leading to a more cohesive and resilient identity.” Bridget’s resolve strengthened. “Okay, we’ll do this together. I want Sally to feel safe and supported.” Dr. Thompson smiled warmly. “Let’s set some goals for the coming week. Sally, how about we start with using the diapers at times when you feel particularly stressed, or tired? And Bridget, you can help by being supportive and making sure Sally feels comfortable.” Sally nodded, feeling a renewed sense of hope. “I can do that.” Bridget squeezed her daughter’s hand. “We’ll get through this together, sweetheart.” “And I need to talk to you more about this, Bridget, just some ideas to get you going. Can you come tomorrow? Bridget assented. “Same time good for you?”. “Absolutely. Does Sally need to come as well? “Not really”, said Dr. Thompson. Sally hesitated. “So, are you going to prescribe like pills or something?”, she asked, wondering if there was something else. Dr. Thompson looked at her and smiled. “I have a prescription for you”. She took a paper pad with her clinic’s logo and wrote on it. “There, get some of these. You don’t need to go to the pharmacy, you can get them easily online”, Sally took the note which read: “Disposable extra-absorbent diapers”. She smiled, turning red. -- The next day, while Sally was at volleyball practice, Bridget was at Dr. Thompson’s office. "Bridget, I’ve been considering some strategies to help Sally feel more comfortable and secure in her journey. I’ve been trading ideas with some colleagues and there’s one approach I’d like to discuss with you." Bridget listened expectantly. "The idea is to give Sally some space so she can explore and understand her 'little side' on her own. It's not a matter of trust—in fact, it shows how much she trusts you. There are parts of life that require privacy and self-exploration, much like how a child freely discovers the world without inhibitions. At Sally's age, it's more appropriate for her to have this personal time to reflect and grow independently." “Like, in her own bedroom?” Dr. Thompson shook her head. “Not there, there’s too many references to her teenage identification, distractions, and such. Bridget leaned forward; her interest piqued. "Dr. Thompson. What do you have in mind?" Dr. Thompson smiled reassuringly. "Do you have an unused room in your house, a space that isn’t currently being utilized?" Bridget thought for a moment. "Actually, yes. We have a large space over the garage that we converted. It’s connected to the upstairs corridor. I initially thought I’d use it as my office, but it felt too isolated from the rest of the house. It’s fully carpeted, has an independent bathroom, painted white to make it brighter, but it has skylights instead of windows... I figured it might be useful as an art studio or something.” Dr. Thompson nodded, her eyes lighting up with interest. "That sounds perfect. I’d like to suggest using that room as a conditioning space for Sally. A place where she can get used to wearing diapers and explore her creative side. Often, the Inner Child can express itself more freely in a new environment, devoid of familiar memories and distractions." Bridget looked intrigued but hesitant. "How exactly would this work?" Dr. Thompson leaned in slightly, her tone gentle but persuasive. "We would encourage Sally to spend time in this room alone, in her diaper. Actually, wearing only her diaper, at least in the beginning. No pants. She would be given paper and writing materials, for example, to express herself. No electronics, at least for now. The idea is to allow her to have a 'raw' experience, free from external influences and pressures. This can help her cope with her emotions and become more comfortable with her feelings and desires." Bridget’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That sounds quite… unconventional. Do you think it will really help her?" Dr. Thompson smiled warmly. "I understand it might seem unorthodox, but Sally is a bright and intelligent teenager. She’s very aware of the thoughts and expectations of those around her, which can make it difficult for her to fully open up. By providing her with a space where she can be alone and experience wearing a diaper, using it, being free to explore her emotions without judgment, she can begin to make sense of her feelings in a safe and controlled environment." Bridget considered this for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I see. It does make sense in a way. Giving her a space where she can be herself without any distractions or expectations… it might just be what she needs." Dr. Thompson nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. It’s about giving her the freedom to explore her inner world, her “little” side. This space would allow her to express herself creatively and emotionally, helping her to integrate her experiences and feelings." Bridget’s hesitation began to melt away, replaced by a sense of curiosity and hope. "Alright, Dr. Thompson. I think we can give this a try. I’ll prepare the room and make sure it’s a comfortable and inviting space for her." Dr. Thompson leaned back; her expression thoughtful. "Let’s introduce the idea to Sally gently, explaining the purpose of the room and how it can help her. We need to be transparent with her, she needs to understand the mechanism. Once she’s comfortable with the idea, we can start as soon as she feels ready." -- That evening Bridget decided to talk to Sally about Dr. Thompson’s suggestion. “Sally, can we talk for a moment?” Bridget asked gently. Sally, curled on the sofa already in her footed pajamas and Goodnites, looked up, curious. Bridget took a deep breath, then explained Dr. Thompson’s idea about the room over the garage. She described in detail Dr. Thompson’s proposal on how she thought Sally should be introduced to her diapers. Sally listened quietly, her initial resistance showing in her furrowed brow. “I don’t know. It sounds… strange.” Bridget nodded, understanding her hesitation. “I get that, sweetheart. But Dr. Thompson thinks it could really help you feel more secure and comfortable with your emotions. It’s a place where you can be yourself without any distractions or expectations.” Sally thought for a moment, considering the idea. Part of her was curious about the potential benefits, and another part was still resistant. “I guess I could try. It just feels a bit strange.” Bridget smiled warmly. “That’s all we’re asking, Sally. Just give it a try and see how you feel. We’ll take it one step at a time.” Sally assented, feeling a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Bridget hugged her daughter, feeling a sense of hope and determination. Sally began to feel a growing sense of anticipation. She was already looking forward to wearing diapers. She didn’t know what to expect, but she trusted her mom. The next day after school Bridget and Sally stood in the doorway of the studio, looking at the cozy, inviting space Sally was supposed to make her own. The room was filled with soft light from the skylights, and the thick carpeting made it feel warm and safe. “This looks great”, Sally said, feeling a bit more reassured. Bridget smiled, hugging her daughter. “There’s one more thing, though, sweetheart. Dr. Thompson suggests that you should be in the room wearing only a diaper.” Sally’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? Like, no pants or anything?” “I know it sounds extreme, Sally, but there’s a reason for it. Dr. Thompson believes it’s important for you to get used to wearing it—and using it— being only in your diaper and maybe a simple t-shirt, with no distractions or grown-up identifications. Think of it as a blank canvas where you can paint your own story. It’s a way to really explore your emotions and find your way through them.” Sally felt a wave of embarrassment and fear. But deep inside her, Sally was surprised she wasn’t as outraged as she thought she should be. Remembering she had been willing to get naked with her friends, and the reason – closeness and absolute trust – made her understand this process better. She needed to choose to trust her mother – fully. Like riding in a roller-coaster. Or going down a rabbit hole. Bridget gently took Sally’s hand. “I understand, honey. It’s a big step, and it feels strange. But this is about helping you feel more secure and comfortable with yourself. You don’t have to do it if you’re not ready, but maybe you could give it a try and see how it feels?” Sally looked down, her mind racing. Part of her was horrified at the idea, but another part of her was strangely fascinated. Could this really help her understand her feelings better? Could it make her feel more secure? She remembered wearing her Goodnite just the other night… seeing herself wearing only a Goodnite – not even a shirt covering her - in the mirror hadn’t been so bad. In fact, she had looked cute, she remembered Clara saying. She might as well try the same in a diaper. After a long moment, Sally nodded slowly. “Only if you think it will help.” Bridget smiled, hugging her daughter tightly. “Remember, this is your space and your journey. I’m here to support you every step of the way. Tomorrow we can begin our discovery journey.” “For now, let me take care of you the only way I know how”. Her mother took her by the hand and led her to her bedroom. Sally allowed her mother to gently undress her and slide a Goodnite up her legs. Sally looked in awe at her mother as she stepped into the offered pajama pants – her footed pajamas were in the laundry – and finished off with a cozy pajama top. Bridget helped her daughter into bed and pulled the covers up. Just as she had when Sally was small. -- Saturday morning shone bright and warm. It looked like any other Saturday in which Sally would sleep, be lazy, and do nothing of profit until the afternoon, when she would lazily get some homework done and study a bit, before relaxing and having fun, whichever way would present itself for a fourteen-year-old. However, this Saturday was different. Her mother took charge of her bright and early, leading her to the kitchen where she would have breakfast. Her Goodnite was slightly sagging under her pajama pants, as she’d peed herself sometime in the night, going back to a peaceful sleep. There was a large glass of milk, whole wheat toast with avocado – she loved avocado – and then a large glass of orange juice. “You’ll want to be hydrated, Sally”, her mother explained. Sally blushed at the implications, but she was secretly excited at trying out this experiment with the diapers. Sally helped her mother clear the dishes as she swelled in anticipation. “Let’s go upstairs, then?”. Bridget said as she took Sally by the hand, and Sally let herself be led, as she was almost afraid, she’d chicken out. When they reached the studio – that’s what they had named the room – Bridget pointed out the features. They had installed one of those Ikea sofas that turn swiftly into a bed – it was in the sofa position- and there were notebooks and a collection of pens and crayons for her to use. They could gradually add more things, if there was anything she wished. The room was large, but comfortably warm. Bridget had turned the thermostat all the way up. The door had no lock, so she was free to leave whenever she wanted. She was under no obligation. “Are you ready to begin, Sally?” Sally nodded. She took her pajama top off, and let her mom slide her bottoms down, and help her rip the wet Goodnite and slide it between her legs. Naked, she let her mother wipe her down with a wet wipe, and help her onto the floor, where a padded mat had been laid out. It was an intense moment, for both mother and daughter. Bridget was hesitant, but Sally was willing. She had chosen consciously to trust her mother, despite her… shyness? Yes, that would be the word. She wasn’t embarrassed, nor ashamed. Sally lay naked on the padded mat, and passively watched as her mother ripped the diaper bag open, and managed to slide a diaper out, opening it up. It seemed huge to Sally, who was used to her Goodnites. Bridget tried to manipulate the diaper to make it more malleable, making a characteristic crinkling noise that Sally found relaxing. When the diaper was more or less to her liking, Bridget opened a talc bottle and sprinkled some on Sally’s nether region. Sally couldn’t avoid a giggle, seeing her crotch all covered in white. Then came the diaper. “Lift up”, and Sally instinctively held her weight with the flats of her feet and lifted up her bum, and her mom slid the open diaper underneath. “Down, gently”, and Sally lowered herself slowly, allowing her mother to position the diaper properly. For Sally, the taping of the diaper over her crotch was like the sealing of her fate, her destiny. The total surrender to a chosen path of self-discovery. The t-shirt was a pastel green one with a flower on it. Sally had forgotten she still had it, and she raised her arms so her mother could slip it on. It was on the small side, and because of it, Sally felt it exposed her new bulky diaper even more. Sally took a deep breath and watched her mom step out of the room, feeling a mixture of nerves. As her mother closed the door behind her, she felt a sense of anticipation. She didn’t know what the future held, but she was ready to explore this new chapter of her healing journey. -- In the quiet, softly lit room, Sally stood for a moment, taking in the peaceful atmosphere, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but also strangely liberated. She looked around the room, feeling the soft carpet under her feet. She felt the thick diaper taped on her waist and the snug bulk between her legs. Instinctively, she crossed her arm across her chest, and sighed. She lowered herself on the thick carpeted floor and sat there, cross-legged. She picked up a piece of paper and a pen, sitting down on the floor. The silence of the room wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and she began to write. At first, her thoughts were jumbled and hesitant, but gradually, she found a rhythm. She wrote about her fears, her hopes, and her desires. She drew pictures that reflected her emotions, allowing her creativity to flow freely. As time passed, Sally felt a sense of calm and clarity. The act of expressing herself without any distractions or judgments was an incredible freeing. She realized that this space, and the act of wearing only her diaper, allowed her to connect with her deepest feelings in a way she hadn’t been able to before. But as her breakfast-induced bladder pressure mounted, she was hesitant to let go. It was like the magic was going to end. She caressed the soft white diaper between her legs. It felt nice. Nicer than the Goodnites. Pure white. Except for the blue sticky tabs. She dropped her notebook and pen and explored her diaper. She got on her knees and bent over, sliding her hands all over the diaper. She looked around. Then she frowned. She picked up the notebook and wrote “mirror”. She decided she would make a list of things that that were missing. A large mirror on the wall was a must, as she must look cute for sure in that diaper. “Pillows”. Maybe something to drink. She wasn’t thirsty now, but she wrote “Water bottle?”. She didn’t know what kind of drink she should be having in her studio. Pop would be too… grown-up? Maybe juice. As time went by, she carefully imagined items she was missing to make this a long-term comfortable place for her to be in. Even wetting her diaper for the first time seemed easier now, as she kept her mind busy in little things. The pressure was making her uncomfortable, so she figured she might as well be done with it. She got on her knees and leaned back, almost sitting on the floor. As she widened her knees a bit, she could feel herself easily releasing her bladder into the diaper. The hiss went on for a while, and she basked in the glory of her diaper filling up. She laid her hand on the front of the diaper, feeling it heat up and seeing it turn yellow. She relaxed as the flow slowly ended, feeling the wetness being absorbed in the back of the diaper as well. When she finished, she gently rested her bottom on the carpeted floor, feeling the squishy warm diaper under her butt. No fear of leaking. No fear of being discovered. No fear. Period. Sally’s fear of the magic being over never came to happen. The magic continued, and she could hardly remember any time of her life in which she was more relaxed and at ease. She dozed, relaxedly, on the floor, lying on her back. When Bridget checked on her later, Sally opened her eyes with a smile. “I think this might actually help, Mom. It feels… right.” “That’s amazing, honey”, she said. Bridget was carrying a diaper in her hand, and Sally submitted gladly to her mother changing her diaper. She offered her a large bottle of pineapple juice, and Sally downed half of it. She kept the rest for later. As lunch approached, Sally was busy rewriting a line of thoughts she had had trouble finding coherence earlier. As she didn’t have a desk in the studio yet, she was kneeling by the sofa and resting her notebook on the seat, and she was delighted to find that position comfortable both for writing… and peeing. Sally’s juice bottle was empty, and her diaper was full. She was reading her final edit when her mother walked in. She had her apron on, as she had been getting lunch ready. She had one of Sally’s skirts with her and handed it to her. “Lunch is ready, honey, I thought you would want to wear something over that diaper”, she said, winking. She looked at her daughter in amazement, getting a glimpse of the level of writing she had been doing. “My, you are turning into quite the Shakespeare”, Bridget said. She looked on as Sally struggled to get the skirt up over her diaper. She noticed the diaper was wet once again, but it could wait till after lunch. “It’s strange writing so much by hand, but I guess I’m getting used to it”, Sally said, while zipping up her skirt and pulling her t-shirt down. “What’s for lunch?”, she said, turning to her mother. “Vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwich”, Bridget answered, following Sally out of the studio and closing the door. She considered Sally as she walked on in front of her. The skirt did a good job covering Sally’s diaper, although it was shorter than her school uniform, but the short t-shirt rode up revealing the diaper waistband clearly sticking out the top. It was obvious, though, that Sally was waddling. The wet diaper made her walk differently, but maybe she would get used to walking in a wet diaper in the future. As Sally silently wolfed down her lunch, Bridget watched her apprehensively as she considered her next steps. She wondered what Sally had experienced up there on her own. Should she pause the experiment, or should she have Sally continue spending time in the studio for the remainder of the day? “Sally”, said Bridget. Sally looked up expectantly from her sandwich. “Tell me, honey? What have you been up to?”, she asked, inviting Sally to give a personalized account. “Nothing, mostly”, said Sally, shrugging her shoulders. “More than nothing, I expect”, said Bridget, clearly disappointed, at first. “I see you have done quite a bit of writing”. She added: “You don’t have to share your writing if you don’t want to”. “Well, it’s OK, nothing important. Mostly ideas and things I was thinking of”, said Sally, warming up to conversing. She bad been silent all day. “I was thinking how we call it a studio, and then I was thinking about art and stuff, and how I could try doing something, like painting or something. I’ll probably suck at it, but it can’t be more embarrassing than wearing diapers”, she said, plainly. Bridget felt a pang of concern hearing Sally describe wearing diapers as embarrassing. She knew how important it was to support her daughter’s journey and to lift her spirits. She decided to use humor and creativity to help Sally see the lighter side of her situation. Bridget put on a thoughtful expression and then dramatically placed her hands on her hips. "Embarrassing, you say? Well, let me tell you something, young lady," she began, her voice filled with mock seriousness. Sally looked at her mother, intrigued by her tone. Bridget continued, "Did you know that back in ancient times, Romans used to wear togas with diapers underneath? It was all the rage! And they called it 'The Diapered Dignity.' True story." Sally raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "I don’t think that’s true." Bridget waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, but it is! And not only that, but the great philosopher Socrates once said, 'To be truly wise, one must embrace the diaper and all its fluffy glory.' Imagine how sophisticated you'd be if you quoted that in class!" Sally burst into giggles. "Mom, you’re making that up!" Bridget grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Okay, maybe I am. But think about it this way: diapers are like our secret superpower. Nobody knows we're wearing them, and it makes us unique. Plus," she leaned in conspiratorially, "I bet if we had a contest for the cutest person in the house, you'd win hands down in those diapers." Sally laughed harder, her cheeks turning pink. "You’re crazy, Mom!" Despite her mother treating her like a five-year-old, Sally couldn’t avoid find it extremely funny. Bridget struck a silly pose, pretending to model. "And just think, you could start a new fashion trend! Diapers today, runway tomorrow. We'll call it 'Diaper Chic.'" Sally was now hysterical with laughter, clutching her sides. "Stop, I can’t breathe!" Bridget joined in the laughter, feeling a warm sense of relief seeing her daughter so happy. "See, it's not so embarrassing when you can laugh about it, right?" Sally nodded, still giggling. Bridget hugged Sally tightly. "With a sense of humor, we can handle anything." Sally felt a surge of gratitude and love for her mother. "Thanks." Bridget smiled, kissing the top of Sally’s head. "Now, finish your lunch, and then maybe we can change your diaper. How does that sound?" Sally nodded. “Good”. After lunch they returned to the studio. While Bridget was changing Sally’s diaper, she spoke in a tentative, concerned voice. “Sally, there’s something we need to talk about”. Sally got up on her elbows and raised her eyebrows. “What?”, she asked, concerned. “When is the last time you went number two?”, Bridget asked. Sally frowned, thinking. “Yesterday… morning?” Bridget pressed her lips in a straight line. “I thought so”. Bridget sat down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's knee. "I think your body might be having trouble adjusting to the diapers. Sometimes our minds and bodies can react in strange ways to new routines." Sally shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her mother’s gaze. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling kind of bloated." Bridget nodded sympathetically. "It’s not uncommon. But I’m worried about you, and I think we need to do something about it. Have you ever heard of a suppository?" Sally’s eyes widened in surprise and a bit of apprehension. "A suppository? Isn’t that, like, a pill you put... there?" Bridget chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes, it is. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it can help relieve constipation quickly and safely. I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to think about, but it’s important for your health." Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don’t know, Mom…" Bridget squeezed Sally’s hand, giving her a reassuring smile. "I understand. It’s not something anyone enjoys talking about. But sometimes, our health needs to come first, even if it means doing something a bit uncomfortable. And remember, it just part of feeding your “little” side. I used to give you suppositories when you were little", she said, winking. Sally looked at her mother, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. She knew her mom was right. "Okay, Mom. For my health. And my “little” me", she said, with a thin smile. “Now, this is going to be a messy affair, and I understand if you want to forego the diapers and use the toilet. But I suggest you use the diapers at least this once, so your “little” side can have a taste of what it’s really like”. Sally nodded, thoughtfully. “So, what’s it going to be, diapers or toilet?”, coaxed Bridget. Sally turned her head away and kept silent, thinking. “Diapers”, she finally whispered. Bridget smiled warmly, relieved by Sally’s willingness. "That’s my brave girl” "First, we need to make sure you’re comfortable," Bridget said, guiding Sally to lie down on her side and moving her legs so that Sally was in a fetal position. "This will only take a moment." Sally took a deep breath, trying to relax. "Okay”, she said, signaling she was ready. Bridget gently inserted the suppository, all the while talking to Sally in a calm and soothing voice. "You’re doing great, Sally. Just a little more, and we’re done." Sally winced slightly but remained still. "Gross”, she mumbled. Bridget smiled, finishing the process quickly. "And we’re done”. Bridget turned Sally over and sprinkled her with a generous dose of powder, tapping the diaper shut. Now, try and wait for about fifteen minutes and let the suppository do its work. Then you should let it out" Sally nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Thanks, Mom”, she said, red in the face. Bridget stroked Sally’s hair gently. "You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re very brave. Now, just relax and let’s wait. I’ll give you some privacy, you can call out for me when you’re done.” After a while, Sally felt a gentle urge in her stomach, signaling that the suppository was working. She resisted it, counting the minutes on her phone. She was thankful for a little sense of normalcy as her mother suggested she have her phone for the afternoon. She thought of setting the timer, but she figured her eyes were going to be glued to the time on the phone. She got up and walked around, while checking her messages and social media. She distracted herself as she felt things working and the pressure slowly mounting to a low burning sensation in her bowels. She felt like doubling over, but she resisted, knowing she needed to have a complete effect of the suppository. She answered Katrina and Clara’s messages on their shared messaging group with a “having a lazy weekend, guys”, and was relieved her friends weren’t up to anything fancy or that required her presence. She dropped her phone on the floor as a desperate urge made her double over and she hugged her midsection. She kneeled down to pick up her phone, thankful for the thick carpet, but down there on all fours a basic animal instinct took over and she raised her butt to the air heaving with all her might. Sally was horrified at the stinging hot mess that erupted from her and spread around her diaper, but the pressure continued, forcing her to push harder. She laid her cheek on the soft carpeted floor and rested there, as she tried breathing calmly. She pushed at intervals, but most of it eventually came out, and then it was leftover spasms. She kept pushing gently until nothing more came out. She emptied her bladder as she waited, for good measure. She was almost afraid to move. She gingerly got up to her feet and looked down at her diaper to survey the damage. It was sagging more than ever, with the mess right in between her legs. She gave a few tentative steps and felt the hot mess squishing against her skin. She wished she had a mirror, to better assess the damage. She suddenly remembered the studio had a bathroom. She shuffled to the bathroom delicately and looked at herself in the mirror. The diaper was significantly bloated, deep yellow with a brown hue to it. She turned around and looked back to the mirror. While still looking cute in a diaper, Sally couldn’t avoid thinking about the grotesqueness of what it represented, yet… she was stunned to realize she had actually enjoyed the process. Notwithstanding the realization, she knew she couldn’t remain much longer in this state. She made her way out to the corridor to get her mom, but she was nowhere in sight. She was almost going to call out to her mom she was done, and suddenly remembered herself as a little child, calling out from the bathroom door: “Mommy, I’m done”. Somehow she didn’t feel like exposing herself like that. So, she ventured down the corridor trying to figure out where her mother was. As she took the first uneasy steps in her loaded diaper, she adjusted to the mass and gained confidence in walking in her diaper. However, this experience proved to be unreal. Here she was, walking in her house exposing her diaper – her dirty diaper – for all to see. Not that there was anybody (except for her mother) in the house. She stopped at the banister and looked down. Some sound was coming from the living room, so that meant her mother was watching TV. Sally could tell the volume had been turned down low, but yet, she still didn’t want to call out to her mom. So, she walked down the staircase down to the living room. One step at a time. She cringed at the mess rubbing between her legs, but she boldly made an effort to normalize her situation as much as possible. She was going to be clean soon. As she walked into the living room, her mother suddenly turned her head towards her. “Oh! You’re here! I thought I smelled something. Why didn’t you call me?”, she asked, lifting the remote and turning the TV off. Sally stood there, unable to explain why she didn’t call her. It sounded kind of lame. She just stood there. “Oh, let’s get you clean”. She stood up and surveyed her daughter. “I was thinking, since this is an exceptional case – there’s two days’ worth of number two – “, she remarked, unaware of Sally’s mortification, “It might be better to hop into the shower directly, what do you say?”. Sally shrugged, red in the face. “Yeah, better”. She turned around and went through the process of climbing the stairs, walking along the corridor into her bedroom, where she went straight into her bathroom. Her mother had followed her all the way. “Honey, let me give you a hand”, she said. “Are you ok?, she asked, concerned. “I know it mustn’t have been pleasant”, she remarked. Sally tried to make sense of her situation. “It was gross, but it was OK. But now, it stinks”, she said, wrinkling her nose. Sally's nonsensical answer didn't prompt a response from Bridget. Bridget silently nodded as she helped Sally out of her t-shirt and made her stand still as she carefully began to remove Sally's dirty diaper, making sure to unwrap it slowly and precisely to avoid any spills, while Sally stood by the shower, ready to step in once she was clean. Bridget managed to remove Sally's dirty diaper without any spills, and Sally stepped into the shower, waiting for the water to get hot. As the steam began to rise, she watched the water turn dark as it washed away the mess between her legs, gradually getting clearer as she lathered herself with abundant soap, feeling cleaner and more refreshed with each passing moment. Her mother was holding up a large bath towel, and Sally gladly stepped out of this unreal experience into its embrace. Her mother gave her some space as she busied herself in getting dry, and Bridget left her on her own. “I’ll be right back, honey”. Sally was glad for some alone time. She reflected on her unique day. In the whole, she was happy. She did things and thought about things she had never thought she could. Diapers definitely were the real “little” experience, and she had enjoyed them immensely. The “alone” time in the studio had been great, far away from her mother and left to her owns devices. Not that her mother was a problem, but being an only daughter did make her a center of attention. The pooping. The act of pooping in her diaper had been exhilarating, but it was a messy experience, she had to admit. But the deeper aspects of her day were the seeds planted in her mind. Or rather, sprouted during her time at the studio. She had never even thought of being an artist, yet her time at the “studio” had left her visualizing an easel with a canvas for her to paint. She decided she wanted to try painting and see how she felt about it. The idea of finger painting, with its tactile and immersive nature, seemed like the perfect place to start. Sally imagined herself dipping her fingers into vibrant colors, feeling the cool, smooth paint against her skin, and letting her hands guide her emotions onto the canvas. The thought of creating something beautiful and personal excited her. She pictured herself lost in the process, her mind free from worries and focused solely on the dance of colors and shapes. In addition to painting, Sally also felt a strong urge to write. The thoughts and feelings that had emerged during her time in the studio, needed to be expressed in words. She wanted to capture the journey she was on, the blend of emotions and discoveries, and share it through her writing. With these new creative outlets, Sally felt a sense of purpose and excitement. She couldn't wait to see where this path would lead her, both in painting and writing, as she continued to explore and express her inner world. Sally wrapped herself with a towel and went into her bedroom, unsure of what to do. Her mother appeared holding a diaper and other supplies. Sally found she was relieved. She really wanted to wear a diaper again. She didn’t want this experience to end. She gladly shed her towel, and Bridget laid the changing mat on the floor. "Lie down, sweetie," Bridget said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. Sally did as she was told, laying back on the soft mat. Bridget began by cleaning her thoroughly with gentle, warm wipes, ensuring that every trace of the messy diaper was gone. The sensation of being cleaned was soothing, and Sally closed her eyes, letting herself relax. Once Bridget was satisfied that Sally was completely clean, she applied a thin layer of diaper cream to her daughter’s skin, making sure to cover all the areas that needed protection. The cream felt cool and smooth, adding to the sense of relief that Sally was already feeling. Next, Bridget sprinkled a small amount of baby powder onto her hand before gently patting it onto Sally's skin. The powder smelled sweet and comforting, and Sally couldn't help but smile at the familiar scent. "Almost done, honey," Bridget said softly, unfolding the fresh diaper and sliding it under Sally. She carefully fastened the tabs, making sure the diaper was snug but not too tight. Sally looked up at her mother, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. "Thanks, Mom. I feel so much better." Bridget smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from Sally's face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm glad you feel better." Sally sat up, feeling the soft, dry diaper securely in place. The feeling of being cleaned up and put into a fresh diaper was incredibly comforting. She felt like new, refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the evening. As she got up, she gave her mother a hug. “How about you get your pajamas on? The footed ones are just washed, in your closet”. Sally skipped into her closet, her diaper rustling. Bridget smiled at the cuteness of it. She watched as Sally slid her feet into the blue starry footed pajama, and slipped her arms in, making an effort to zip herself up. The diaper created a noticeable bulge, but that was to be expected. “I’m glad we bought these pajamas. I think they are so cute!”, Sally couldn’t help but exclaim, hugging herself. Bridget kissed the top of her head. "Me too. Now, how about we celebrate with a movie night? Your choice." Sally’s eyes lit up with excitement. "That sounds perfect! Thanks, Mom." Chapters 20-23 Chapter 20 – Deeper than Colors Sunday It had been her first night wearing diapers under her pajamas, and she felt a thrill of excitement. Typically, she would be nudged awake by her bowels urging her to use the bathroom. This morning was no different, but the previous day's suppository had left her bowels in overactive mode, making her need to go urgently. In fact, her last diaper change before going to bed had required her mom clean some more stinky mess due to the leftover effect. Curled up in her bed that Sunday morning, clad in her footed pajamas and already wet diaper, she had a bold idea. Smiling to herself, she pushed and emptied her bowels into the diaper. The sensation was both intense and oddly satisfying, but she hadn’t anticipated the confined space in the diaper. The mess pressed tightly against her, creating a gross, sticky feeling. She suddenly remembered why she had avoided sitting in a soiled diaper the previous day—to avoid exactly this discomfort. Mentally chastising herself for the oversight, she resigned to what was done. Despite the gross feeling, Sally enjoyed the exhilaration of pooping herself, and figured this was part of experimenting her “little” side. But there was a practical side she needed to address. Yesterday had been a messy affair, and she was forced to take yet another shower. She would probably need another one this morning. She dozed off, trying to ignore her dirty diaper. But to Sally’s surprise, as the morning wore on, her mother had not appeared to check if she was awake. She got out of bed, trying to get used to the feeling her heavy diaper gave her, and tried not to waddle too much as she walked out of the bedroom. The house was silent, but as she stood by the banister, she could hear her mother in the living room. She padded softly down the stairs and looked in. “Mom?” “Sally, you’re awake!”, said Bridget, lounging on the sofa comfortably. She has a mug of coffee next to her and was reading on her kindle. Sally was a bit confused. “Uhm, I thought you’d wake me up”, she said. “Come sit”, said Bridget, patting on the sofa next to her. “I figured you’d appreciate the extra sleep. You looked tired last night”. Sally started walking but stopped. “Uhm, mom, I need a change”. She made a face. “We can change you after breakfast”, she said, waving her over. Sally gave her mother a pained expression. “What’s wrong, Sally”, asked Bridget, concerned. “Oh”, she said. “Oh”, she said a second time, this time louder, as she realized what Sally had done and the implications it had. Sally nodded her head sheepishly. “Ok, Sally, go upstairs to your bedroom and get the changing mat, the baby wipes, the diaper cream and the baby powder, and bring a diaper too. We’ll do it right here”. Sally was stunned. “Here?” “Here’s as good as any place”, said Bridget, with a curt nod. “And bring something to change into”. Sally turned around and went back to her bedroom. She tried not to waddle, but it was impossible. She walked into her ensuite bathroom and found the items her mother had requested. Diaper, baby wipes, diaper cream, baby powder. She revised the list in her mind and waddled back to her mother. Her mother was finishing her coffee and laid her kindle down. “Ok, honey, strip down and lay down”, she instructed. Sally zipped down her footed pajama and took it off. Freed from it, her diaper sagged even more. Her mother frowned. “Stinky girl”, she said. Sally blushed deep red as she laid on the change mat. She cringed as the poop chaffed again on her skin. As her mother undid the tapes and uncovered Sally’s crotch, she wrinkled her nose. “Mom…”, began Sally. Bridget looked at Sally expectantly. “Mom, is this OK with you? I mean, I guess it sort of stinks and kind of gross. It’s not like baby poop”, she said, unsure of what her mother was thinking. Bridget paused. “Sally, does this have any relation to yesterday’s suppository? Did you have a sudden urge, like a cramp, or was it a voluntary bowel movement?” Sally looked away. “Voluntary”, she murmured. “Sorry”, she said, as her mother remained silent. “It’s OK”, Bridget said, while starting to wipe Sally’s crotch. It took a while to clean most of it. “Well, I guess I wasn’t expecting to clean poop out of you like this”, said Bridget. “I thought yesterday was more of a raw experimental moment for you, and you wouldn’t feel like repeating it. But here we are, I guess”. “You’re right, it’s gross”, Sally admitted. But it felt awesome, Sally didn’t say. Bridget instructed Sally to hold her legs high, as she needed better access. Sally complied, hugging the back of her knees and pressing them to her face. In this exposed position, as Bridget cleaned Sally thoroughly, she continued. “I don’t mind cleaning you anytime that is necessary, but you can also take this aspect into account. You can choose to use the bathroom to go number 2 or go in your diaper and then take a shower, or just come to me and I’ll sort you out. But remember, when you need me to clean and change you, you need to bring me the supplies and I’ll take care of you wherever you find me. Anyplace appropriate, of course”, she added, with a chuckle. Sally nodded from under her legs. Bridget slid a diaper under Sally’s raised butt, and applied diaper rash cream in her diaper area. After generously dousing her with baby powder, she covered her with the diaper and taped it securely shut. She slid her finger through the leg gathers and made sure they were correctly positioned. “There”, she said. “Did you bring anything to wear?”, she asked. “I forgot!”, said Sally. “Run upstairs and get something. And take your pajamas upstairs”, instructed Bridget. “Come to the kitchen when you’re dressed”. Sally got up from the change mat and picked up all her diaper change supplies. Clad in her diaper, she hurried upstairs to get something on. -- Sally ended up wearing leggings over her diaper. She wanted to avoid a sagging diaper, and she planned to spend time in the Studio. She had taken a bottle of water with her and spent most of the day sprawled on the studio sofa reading, writing and drawing. She was happily releasing the contents of her bladder into the diaper as needed, barely registering the fact that she was doing it. Doing so made her to relax, and she was surprised as the morning wore off at the number of pages she was filling. Although her content wasn’t publishable material, she was glad it was making better sense as she progressed in ordering her thoughts. -- Bridget had been in the living room all morning, catching up on reading, but she finally found a moment to check on Sally in the Studio. To her surprise, she found Sally lying face down on the sofa, writing in her notebook. Sally was so engrossed in her writing that she didn't notice her mother's entrance. What caught Bridget's eye immediately, however, was the pair of grey leggings Sally was wearing over her diaper. Bridget walked over and gently placed a hand on her daughter's back. "Hey, sweetheart," she said softly. "Just wanted to check on you and see if you need a diaper change." Sally looked up, slightly startled but quickly composed herself. "Oh, hi Mom," she said, blushing a bit. "I'm okay, I think." Bridget smiled reassuringly. "Let's have a look, just to be sure." Sally hesitated for a moment but then nodded. Bridget carefully pulled down the grey leggings, revealing a very wet diaper. She sighed and gently patted Sally's diaper. "Looks like you do need a change, honey." Sally blushed deeper, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. Bridget grabbed a fresh diaper from the stack – a new, thicker pale green one – and laid it out on the changing mat. "Alright, let's get you all clean and comfy," Bridget said warmly. “I opened a new package so we can try these out, but I want to get some more diapers for you tomorrow”. She expertly removed the wet diaper, cleaned Sally with wipes, and then applied a generous amount of diaper cream and powder. The new diaper felt thicker and softer than the previous ones, with a smooth plastic texture that seemed even more comfortable. Once Sally was securely diapered in the new diaper, Bridget stood up, holding Sally's leggings in her hand. "There we go, all done. You feel better now?" Sally nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and security in the new diaper. "Yeah, thanks, Mom." Bridget smiled and gave her daughter a gentle pat on the back. "Alright then, I'll leave you to your writing. Remember, no leggings in the Studio, okay? It's important for you to feel free and comfortable." Sally's brow furrowed. "But Mom”, she complained, “it feels weird not having anything to cover my diaper." Bridget shook her head gently. "Sally, we've talked about this. It’s only us. This space is for you to be yourself and not worry about hiding." Sally sighed, glancing down at her new diaper. "I know, it's just... it's hard to get used to." Bridget knelt down next to Sally, looking her in the eyes. "I understand, sweetheart. But wearing leggings over your diaper defeats the purpose of feeling that freedom and comfort. You need to feel exposed to your own “little” side. Let's give it some time, and I promise it will get easier." “What if the house goes on fire? I am supposed to run out in diapers too?, challenged Sally, frowning. Bridget chuckled. “Ok, I’ll leave your skirt out here in the corridor, to use when necessary”. Sally nodded, still feeling a bit unsure. Bridget kissed her forehead. "That's my girl. Now, get back to your writing and enjoy the rest of your time here." Sally watched as her mother walked out of the room with her leggings. Left alone, she took a moment to admire the new diaper. She liked its thickness and the soft plastic texture against her skin. It felt secure, almost like a comforting hug. She smiled ruefully. Sally leaned back on her elbows; her legs slightly parted as she let herself relax. She felt the warmth spread through her diaper as she wet it, the sensation both comforting and strangely satisfying. Curiosity got the better of her, and she slid her hand over the front of the diaper, marveling at the softness and the way it swelled. The experience was oddly reassuring, yet, there was a physical edge to it, she thought to herself, as she rubbed. She discovered a new sensation as she fondled herself through the diaper, and added vigor into it. She recalled the first time she had discovered this feeling and followed it, but this time, it was different. Now, she knew where it would lead. She continued until she reached the point of no return, unlocking a whole new dimension in the depths of this rabbit hole. Dazed and a bit confused, she returned to her writing, trying to push the strange sensations to the back of her mind. But as she shifted slightly, the crinkling of the diaper brought her back to the present, and she couldn't ignore the pleasurable feelings it had sparked. Sally's thoughts wandered, and she found herself wondering why she felt this way. Was it normal? Should she feel guilty? It was one thing to do this naked in the privacy of her bathroom. But while wearing diapers? It seemed… perverted. She glanced down at the diaper, its soft, thick material hugging her securely. There was an undeniable comfort in its embrace, a sense of safety and warmth that she had rarely felt before. Yet, the pleasure she experienced was new and confusing. She didn't quite understand why wearing and using the diaper was evoking such strong emotions. Her curiosity grew. Determined to explore this new side of herself, Sally resolved to pay closer attention to her feelings, to understand them better. She wanted to delve deeper into the sensations and emotions the diapers stirred within her. For now, though, she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing back on her writing, but with a new sense of self-awareness and a determination to uncover as time went by. Monday Monday morning you sure look fine Friday I got travelin' on my mind First you love me and then you fade away I can't go on believin' this way Waking up to her mother’s cheesy music was almost a tradition for Sally. She got out of bed and waddled into her bathroom. A wet diaper was also becoming a tradition, she realized, still sleepy. She zipped down her footed pajamas and slid them off, surveying herself in the mirror. Sleepy smile, wet diaper. She pulled on the tapes and let the diaper fall onto the floor. She stepped away and walked into her shower, turning on the spray and she waited for the water to heat. She soaped herself vigorously and when she felt she was clean and refreshed, she wrapped herself in a towel. Just then, her mother walked into the bathroom. “Morning sweetheart”, she exclaimed, satisfied to see Sally was taking care of herself. Since she had been so dependent during the weekend, she figured Sally might need some help. She was glad that was not the case, and Sally was able to revert to her teen self. “Thanks for the music”, Sally said, as she rubbed her hair dry. “Only, I didn’t look as fine as the music said”, she complained. “Would a wet diaper have anything to do with that?”, questioned Bridget, pointing to the abandoned diaper discarded open on the bathroom floor. Sally gave a guilty look. “I was going to pick that up”. “Sally, you need to take proper care of your diapers. Don’t leave dirty diapers open on the floor, always roll them up and tape them, this isn’t hygienic!”, her mother scolded. Sally obediently bent down to pick the diaper and rolled it into a ball, making sure it was secure. “I’ll have to get a diaper pail; this can get stinky”. Bridget sniffed. “And an air freshener”, she added. Sally continued her routine for school, getting some makeup on, getting dressed and packing her school bag. When she was ready, she went to have her breakfast. “Ready for school?”. her mom asked. Sally assented, sitting down. After breakfast, Sally went to get her school bag. When she came down, her mother was at the door. “I can drive you to school, but first, do you want to wear a diaper or a pull-up?” Sally's heart sank. She had hoped to avoid any more diaper discussions this morning. She bit her lip, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with resignation. “I thought I could wear normal underwear today,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Bridget shook her head gently. “Sally, we talked about this. The therapy is important for your peace of mind. You don’t have to use it, but you need to wear it for protection. It’s not a punishment, sweetie. It’s just a safety net. Both physical and emotional” Sally sighed, looking down at her shoes. She knew her mother had a point. Despite her initial resistance, she had to admit that wearing a Goodnite made her feel a bit more secure, especially after the recent experiences she’d had. “Okay,” Sally mumbled. “I’ll wear a Goodnite.” Bridget’s face softened, and she nodded approvingly. “Good choice, honey. It’s just for your own comfort. Now, let’s get you ready.” Bridget handed her a Goodnite. Sally took it and went back to the bathroom to change. She removed her shoes, tights and panties and slipped into the Goodnite, adjusting it under her uniform. It felt snug but not too noticeable. She realized a diaper might have been more practical, as it didn’t require her to pull her shoes and tights off and then put them back on. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to see if it was visible through her skirt. Satisfied that it wasn’t, she grabbed her school bag and headed back downstairs. For once, she was thankful for her overly conservative school uniform. Bridget was waiting by the door, and she gave Sally a reassuring smile. “Ready to go?” Sally nodded, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “Yeah, I’m ready.” She was almost going to lift her skirt to show she had the Goodnites under her tights, but as her mother turned around she was glad to know she had her mother’s implicit trust. They walked to the car, and as they drove to school, Bridget kept the conversation light, talking about the plans for the following weekend and asking about Sally’s classes. Sally appreciated the distraction, and by the time they arrived at school, she felt a bit more relaxed. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” Bridget said as Sally got out of the car. “I slipped a couple pull-ups in your bag for you to change into. They’re in the middle pocket. Remember, you’re doing great. You’re a good girl”. Sally waved. “See you later.” As she walked towards the school entrance, she felt the pull-up under her skirt, a constant reminder of her ongoing therapy. But she also felt a bit of comfort knowing it was there, just in case. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and headed to her first class, determined to make it through the day. -- Monday proved to be a normal school day. The three friends quizzed each other as to how they had spent the weekend, and none had produced anything of great interest. The end of the winter was coming up, and everybody was looking forward to better weather. But Sally fidgeted nervously as she approached the lunch table where Clara and Katrina were already seated. She could feel the soft padding of the pull-up under her uniform. Taking a deep breath, she put on a smile and sat down. "Hey, Sally!" Katrina greeted her with her usual exuberance, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost." Sally forced a laugh. "Nothing much, just... you know, the usual Monday blues." Clara, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's all, Sally? You seem a bit off today. okay? Is it, like, PMS or anything?”, she asked, gently. Sally shook her head, trying to play it cool. "I'm fine, really." Katrina leaned in, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Come on, spill. You know we don't buy that 'fine' nonsense. What's really going on?" Sally hesitated, feeling the weight of their gazes on her. She couldn't bring herself to tell them about the pull-up, not yet. "It's nothing, just some stuff at home." Clara gave her a sympathetic look, her tone turning motherly. "If there's anything you need to talk about, we're here for you, Sally. You know that." Sally nodded, but the knot in her stomach tightened. "Thanks, Clara. I appreciate it." Katrina, growing impatient, drummed her fingers on the table. "Well, if you're not gonna tell us, let's change the subject. Clara, did you finish that history assignment?" Clara sighed; her tone slightly condescending. "Of course, I did. I don't leave things to the last minute like some people." She shot a pointed look at Katrina. Katrina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we can't all be perfect like you." Sally watched the exchange, feeling even more out of place. The tension between her friends only added to her own discomfort. She shifted in her seat, feeling the Goodnite rustling softly under her uniform. She hoped they wouldn't notice. Clara turned her attention back to Sally. "You know, Sally, if you're having trouble with anything, I'm always here to help. Whether it's schoolwork or... anything else." Sally forced another smile. "I know, Clara. Thanks." Katrina leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You know what, Sally? Sometimes you just need to let loose and not worry so much. Life's too short to be stressed out all the time." Sally felt a pang of frustration. She knew Katrina meant well, but her words didn't help. "I guess you're right." Clara's expression softened, but there was still a hint of patronizing concern. "Just remember, Sally, it's okay to ask for help. You don't have to handle everything on your own. We already talked about this”. Sally nodded, feeling torn. She appreciated their concern, but their contrasting approaches only made her feel more conflicted. She wished she could tell them the truth, but the fear of their reactions held her back. As lunch ended and they headed to their next class, Sally lagged behind, lost in her thoughts. She felt a strange mix of comfort and insecurity, knowing she had her pull-up for support but also feeling isolated by her secret. She took the opportunity to use the bathroom, like a big girl. It felt strange pulling down one’s pull-ups to pee in the toilet. For the rest of the day, the tension between the three girls simmered. Katrina's impatience and Clara's condescending nature clashed with Sally's growing reliance on her pull-ups for emotional comfort, and Sally found herself retreating more into her own world. -- When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Sally gathered her things and made her way to the front entrance. She finally let go her bladder into her Goodnites, feeling a wave of relaxation as she did that. She spotted her mother's red SUV and waved, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Bridget smiled warmly as Sally approached and climbed into the car. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" Bridget asked as they pulled away from the school. "It was okay," Sally replied, trying to sound casual. "I'm glad it's over, though." She gingerly sat in the leather seat, feeling her recently wet Goodnite press against her skin. Bridget nodded. "I bet. We've got a bit of shopping to do on the way home. Think you can help me carry some things?" "Sure," Sally agreed, curious about what they needed to buy. When they arrived home, Bridget parked the SUV in the driveway and popped the trunk. Sally's eyes widened in surprise when she saw the trunk filled with packages of diapers. "I ran into a diaper sale at a medical supply store. Bridget explained with a grin. "I thought we could stock up." Sally felt a strange excitement as she picked up one of the packages, examining the different brands and colors. "Wow, Mom, you really got a lot”. Bridget laughed. "I thought it would be good to have a variety. No pink ones, though. Can you imagine pink diapers?" Sally chuckled. "That would be funny. But this is great." They carried the packages into the house, and Bridget suggested, "Why don't you distribute these between the studio and your bathroom? That way, you'll always have some handy." Sally nodded and began organizing the diapers, marveling at the different types. Some were thick and plush, others thin and discreet. There were white, purple, light green, and light blue ones. She found herself looking forward to trying them all out. As they finished unloading the car, Bridget turned to Sally and asked, "So, how did your pull-ups work today?" "They were fine," Sally said, feeling a bit more comfortable now. "I only wet them once, at the end of school. I managed to use the toilet a couple of times on my own, though." Bridget smiled proudly. "That's great to hear. I'm proud of you for managing so well. Do you want me to change you into a diaper now?" Sally hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that would be nice. I have some studying to do." “Good, then when you’re done, we can visit the Studio, I got you some stuff you’ll like. I’ll get it ready while you study”. Bridget gently changed Sally out of her wet pull-up and into a fresh, thick light blue diaper from the new package. "There you go, all set," she said with a warm smile. She allowed Sally to put on some lounge pants since she would be studying at her desk in her bedroom. Sally settled at her desk and opened her textbooks. As she concentrated on her studies, she gradually became absorbed in her work. The hours passed quickly, and Sally, deeply focused on her notes and assignments, almost didn't even realize when she wet her diaper. She paused for a moment, reflecting on the practicality of wearing diapers and not needing to get up to use the bathroom. It allowed her to stay in the zone, maintaining her concentration without interruptions. Despite the practicality, she found herself needing to stretch and move around. She got up and paced her bedroom, walking back and forth while memorizing some texts. She glanced out the window and noticed the weather seemed to be getting better by the day. Her mother's voice broke her concentration. "Sally, dinner's ready!" Sally reluctantly closed her books, feeling the weight of unfinished homework. She knew she could leave some of it for the following days, but the momentum she had built made her eager to continue. She sighed and headed downstairs, the comfortable bulk of her diaper a reassuring presence as she joined her mother for dinner. Bridget noticed Sally's pensive expression as she set the table. "Everything okay, honey?" "Yeah, just a lot of homework," Sally replied, taking her seat. "But I’m getting through it." Bridget smiled, serving the food. "That's good to hear. After dinner, we can visit the Studio and see the new stuff I got for you. It'll be a nice break from studying." Sally nodded; her curiosity piqued. The thought of new supplies and a visit to the Studio was exciting. As they began to eat, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Despite the challenges and changes, there was a comforting routine and support system that made everything feel manageable. -- They headed to the studio, where Sally felt most comfortable. She stripped down to her wet diaper and laid the changing mat on the floor. Bridget gathered the supplies and knelt beside her daughter, ready to help. As Bridget carefully removed the diaper, she spoke softly, "You did really well today, Sally. It's all about finding what makes you comfortable and confident." Sally nodded, feeling a sense of calm as her mother wiped her clean with gentle hands. "Thanks, Mom. It really helps knowing you're here for me." Bridget smiled warmly, unfolding a thick, white diaper. "Always, sweetheart. Let's get you into a fresh diaper." Sally lay back, closing her eyes as Bridget secured the diaper around her. The feeling of the soft padding against her skin was comforting, and she couldn't help but smile. Sally found herself retreating more into her own world, leaning heavily on her mother for support. "There you go," Bridget said, patting the front of the diaper gently. "All set. How does that feel?" "Perfect," Sally replied, sitting up and hugging her mother. "Thanks, Mom. I feel like new." Bridget hugged her back tightly. "I'm glad. Now, let's enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Maybe do some painting in the studio?" Sally nodded eagerly. "I'd love that." “I hope you like the stuff I got for you”, she said. “Wow, you’ve been busy”, she gasped. -- Sally looked around her. The space opposite the sofa had been transformed into a haven for creativity and self-expression, thanks to her mother’s thoughtful efforts. In the center stood an easel, sturdy and elegant, holding a blank canvas that seemed to beckon her to unleash her imagination. A small table beside the easel was neatly arranged with an array of high-quality paints, brushes of various sizes, and a palette for mixing colors. Everything was meticulously organized, a testament to her mother’s care and attention to detail. Sally noticed a pacifier, sized perfectly for her, placed thoughtfully on the table next to the paints. The sight of it brought a smile to her face, a symbol of the comfort and security her mother always strived to provide. Wearing one of her mother’s old t-shirts, a couple of sizes too big, Sally felt a sense of protection against any potential paint splatters. The soft fabric hung loosely around her, covering her diaper and allowing her the freedom to move without restriction. The diaper, though initially a source of embarrassment, was becoming a part of her routine, a small detail in her journey towards self-discovery. Sally picked up the pacifier and, with a slight hesitation, placed it in her mouth. The soft silicone felt comforting against her lips and tongue, a soothing sensation that spread through her body. She marveled at its calming power, how something so simple could bring her such a profound sense of peace and security. It was a small gesture, but it made her feel connected to her mother, even in her absence. Approaching the easel, she slipped on some latex gloves and flexed fer fingers, experiencing them. Her mother had suggested those, to make her experience easier to manage and clean afterwards. Sally’s fingers tingled with anticipation. Instead of picking up a brush, she dipped her fingers directly into the vibrant colors on the palette, feeling the cool, thick paint against the thin gloves. A surge of exhilaration coursed through her as she brought her fingers to the canvas, her initial strokes tentative and exploratory. Her first touches were simple lines and shapes, smudged patches of blue, green, and yellow that slowly began to take form. She experimented with blending the colors, her fingers gliding smoothly across the surface, leaving trails of mixed hues behind. The tactile sensation of the paint on her fingers was both liberating and soothing, allowing her to connect with her artwork on a deeper level. Her initial attempts were basic, almost childlike, but each stroke brought her a step closer to understanding the medium. She found herself lost in the process, the act of finger painting becoming a form of meditation. She added layers, mixing and swirling the colors together, creating new shades and textures with each pass of her hand. Sally paused for a moment, pulling out the pacifier her mother had left for her. She placed it again in her mouth, feeling the soft silicone against her tongue and teeth. The pacifier provided a soothing rhythm to her breathing. It felt like a small, comforting connection to her childhood, a symbol of the security she felt within these walls. She returned to the canvas with renewed focus, her movements more confident now. She pressed her palms against the surface, dragging them downward to create long flowing lines. She used the tips of her fingers to add finer details, dots, and delicate patterns that added depth to her creation. As she worked, Sally became more aware of the weight between her legs, the comforting bulk of her wet diaper providing an extra layer of security. She had already wet it, and the sensation of the damp padding against her skin was strangely comforting. It was a constant, gentle reminder of her current state, a private world where she could be herself without judgment. With each passing minute, Sally's painting evolved. The canvas transformed into a colorful expression of her inner world, a blend of emotions and thoughts that had found their way into her art. The experience was cathartic, a release of pent-up feelings and a journey of self-discovery. As she finished her session, Sally stepped back to admire her work. The once-blank canvas was now a vibrant tapestry of colors and shapes, a testament to her creativity and the freedom she felt in this space. The studio had become her sanctuary, a place where she could explore her thoughts and emotions without fear. Sally smiled around her pacifier, feeling a sense of accomplishment and peace. She knew there was still much to learn and many more paintings to create, but for now, she was content. She had found a way to express herself, to embrace her unique journey, and to find comfort in her own skin. Chapter 21 - Clarity Resolved complexity refers to the state in which a complex problem, system, or situation has been effectively understood, simplified, and addressed in a way that makes it manageable or clear. This involves breaking down intricate elements into comprehensible parts, finding solutions to underlying issues, and integrating these solutions in a cohesive manner. In other words, resolved complexity means that the initial complexity has been navigated and handled successfully, resulting in a stable, understandable, and functional outcome. The word "clarity" can encapsulate the essence of resolved complexity. It signifies the state of being clear and understandable, which is the outcome of effectively addressing and simplifying complexity. Tuesday Sally shuffled through the crowded hallway, her eyes fixed on the floor. She wasn't actively avoiding her friends, but she wasn't seeking them out either. Her mood was a storm cloud hanging over her head, making her defensive against any questions they might throw her way. Clara's gentle, motherly nature and Katrina's brash, extroverted personality were a clash of titans that she wasn't in the mood to referee. The first period had just ended, and Sally could feel the warmth spreading through her pull-up. She had wet herself more than she'd intended, and the discomfort was becoming unbearable. She needed to change, and fast. She found refuge in the bathroom, where she quickly slipped into a stall, locking the door behind her. With trembling hands, Sally took off her skirt and hung it on the door hook. She pulled her tights down and surveyed the swollen Goodnite. She was glad she had decided to change it. She ripped the wet Goodnite off and began cleaning herself as best she could. She stuffed the Goodnite into the garbage can next to her, and covered it with crumpled toilet paper. She hoped nobody found it. She couldn’t imagine the speculation it would stir. But now came the tricky part. To put on a fresh pull-up, she had to remove her shoes and then her tights. She glanced nervously under the stall door, hoping no one would see her. Thankfully, there seemed to be some busy circulation in the bathroom, so nobody would be paying attention. Sitting down, she slipped on a clean pull-up and held it on her knees. She wriggled her tights partway up to her pull-up and refastened her shoes. Standing up, she finished the process, pulling up her tights and making sure her pull-up was snug and secure. She refastened her skirt and checked herself. Decent. She double checked as she exited the stall, in the now empty bathroom. Good. Sally arrived late to her next class, but the teacher, engrossed in a lecture, ignored her tardiness. Clara and Katrina exchanged knowing looks, their eyes filled with unspoken questions and concern. Sally avoided their gaze, sinking into her seat with a sigh of relief. As the class droned on, Sally's mind wandered. She felt the fresh pull-up beneath her tights, the security and comfort it provided. Yet, the anxiety of needing to change it in a public bathroom gnawed at her. She knew her friends cared, but the constant scrutiny was exhausting. For now, she just wanted to get through the day without any more incidents. The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Sally gathered her things, steeling herself for the questions she knew were coming. As she stepped into the hallway, Clara and Katrina flanked her, their concern palpable. "Hey, are you okay?" Clara asked gently. "Yeah, you seemed really off today," Katrina added, her tone a mix of curiosity and worry. Sally forced a smile. "I'm fine, just a rough morning." The girls exchanged glances but didn't press further. They walked together to their next class, a silent understanding hanging in the air. Sally appreciated their concern, even if she wasn't ready to share everything just yet. For now, she was content to have their support, knowing that, no matter what, they had her back. -- Katrina and Clara were sitting in Clara’s room, textbooks and notes scattered across the bed and floor. Katrina, always struggling to keep up with her schoolwork, had enlisted Clara's help. Clara, ever the nurturing friend, had taken it upon herself to tutor Katrina and get her caught up on her homework. "Katrina, you really need to focus more," Clara said, trying to maintain her patience. "I know math isn't your favorite, but you can't keep putting it off." "Ya sé, ya sé," Katrina replied, rubbing her temples. "But it's just so boring. I'd rather be doing anything else right now." Clara chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, lucky for you, we're almost done. Just a few more problems and we can call it a night." As the evening wore on, the girls found themselves getting tired. Clara glanced at the clock and realized how late it had become. "Katrina, it's pretty late. Do you want to just stay over? We can finish up in the morning." Katrina's eyes lit up. "A sleepover? With my favorite beautiful girlfriend? How could I refuse? It's a date!" She gave Clara a playful wink. Clara blushed at the compliment, feeling a warmth spread across her cheeks. "Thanks, Katrina. That means a lot coming from you." "You're welcome," Katrina replied with a grin. "Now, where am I sleeping?" Clara pointed to the bed. "You can have my bed. I'll go and get the air mattress", she announced, raising her eyebrows. Katrina shook her head. "Ni hablar. We'll both fit on the bed. It'll be like old times." Clara smiled, grateful for Katrina's easygoing nature. She wanted to sleep with Katrina too. "Okay, deal." “I was looking forward to sleeping with you”, said Katrina, in a fake husky voice. Clara rolled her eyes at Katrina’s advances. She changed her tone. "Katrina," Clara began hesitantly, "I've been worried about Sally." Katrina's expression darkened. "Me too. She's been so distant lately. It's like she's shutting us out." Clara nodded. "I think she's struggling with something. It's not easy for her to open up, but we need to find a way to reach her." Katrina sighed. "I know, but it's frustrating. We had that heart-to-heart in my bedroom, and I thought we were making progress. Now it feels like we're back to square one." Clara placed a comforting hand on Katrina's shoulder. "It might be harder for Sally than it is for us. She's dealing with a lot, and we need to be patient." Katrina's eyes filled with determination. "This is a 9-1-1 friendship emergency. We can't just sit back and let this happen. We need to do something." Clara agreed. "You're right. We need to take desperate measures to fix this and get the three of us back together." “Let’s go and see her now. I can’t bare meeting her at school tomorrow this way”, said Katrina. Clara frowned, thinking. Let me talk to my mom, maybe she can take us to Sally’s”. -- Clara rushed to her mother and talked about their plan. "It's a friendship issue that needs resolving," Clara said, trying to reassure her mother. "We really need to see Sally, but we can't go into details." Her mother hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, I'll drive you. But I'll wait until you go inside before I leave. And I'll come back to pick you up unless Bridget offers to drive you back." "Thanks, Mom," Clara said, grateful for her mother's trust. -- Meanwhile, Sally was in the Studio, lost in her thoughts as she painted. Her diaper was wet and cold, but she didn't want to stop her work to get changed. She was struggling with her art, unable to get the colors to match the way she wanted. Her mood was dark, and she felt a sense of unresolved conflict. The cold, clammy feeling of her wet diaper added to her discomfort, but she chose to focus on her painting, hoping it would provide some solace. Her mind wandered through the labyrinth of her thoughts, reflecting on the complexities of art and emotion. "Sally’s frustration bubbled to the surface as she muttered under her breath, “Why can't I get this right?” She felt an overwhelming disconnect between her emotions and her art, especially when sadness enveloped her. It was as if the very essence of melancholy resisted being captured on her canvas. A persistent, nagging feeling of something unresolved gnawed at her, driving her to the brink of madness. Her painting felt perpetually incomplete, a visual representation of her internal struggle. Sally was trapped in a cycle of trying to piece together a puzzle with a crucial piece always missing, leaving her feeling more stuck and hopeless with each attempt. The thought that perhaps art wasn’t the key to expressing her inner turmoil crossed her mind, leaving her to wonder if the answers she sought lay elsewhere, just beyond her grasp. Her diaper felt uncomfortable, adding to her frustration. Sally sighed, feeling the weight of her indecision. She knew that she needed to find her own way, to create art that was true to herself. But how could she do that when she felt so lost, so conflicted? She knew that she needed a change, both physically and emotionally. She expected her mother to walk in at any moment to change her, but she heard the doorbell ring instead. Frowning, she wondered who it could be at this time. -- Bridget opened the door to find Clara and Katrina standing there. "Hello, girls. What brings you here?" "Hi, Mrs. Thompson," Clara said. "We're sorry for intruding, but we really need to speak with Sally”. Bridget looked at them with raised eyebrows. “Girls, you know you are welcome anytime, but isn’t this… a bit late?”. “It's a friendship emergency. Can we see Sally?”, Katrina asked. Bridget's worry deepened. "Is something wrong?" Clara shook her head. "It's just something we need to resolve with her. She’ll understand." Bridget guessed it might have something to do with Sally’s confessions about her pull-ups. "Alright. Sally’s in the Studio. I'll call her down." She called up to Sally, but there was no answer. "Sally, Katrina and Clara are here!" Sally was stunned. She was only wearing a very wet diaper, and she knew she couldn’t get to her bedroom without being seen. Panic set in as she thought about what to do. Sally's mind raced frantically as she pondered her next move. She felt trapped, knowing she couldn't let her friends see her in such a vulnerable state, yet hiding forever wasn't an option. Questions swirled in her head—what did they want? Was it about her mood? Her pull-ups? She felt a deep frustration, unable to figure out how to fix the situation. Her mother called up again, asking if she should send her friends up. Sally knew it was a veiled threat. Suddenly, she remembered the emergency skirt her mother had left outside the Studio door. She quickly slipped it on and tried not to waddle as she made her way downstairs. As Sally reached the living room, the tension was palpable. She looked at her friends in frown. "What’s going on? Why are you here?" Katrina took a deep breath, hands on her hips. "Sally, we need to talk. We’re worried about you." Clara nodded, wringing her hands. "We care about you, Sally. We’re willing to create an uncomfortable situation to resolve this because we love you." Sally crossed her arms. "I need space. Sometimes, friendship means giving someone space to figure things out." Katrina shook her head. "Yes, but not when it’s clearly against your well-being. If you were thinking about doing something harmful, we wouldn’t respect that wish. Friendship means helping, even when it’s inconvenient." Sally's eyes filled with tears. "But you don’t understand. I do need space. You’re interfering." Clara stepped forward. "We’re interfering because we love you. We want to be there for you, no matter what. We can’t match the love your mother has shown you, but as friends, we need to be there for you, even when it’s uncomfortable." Sally broke down, sobbing quietly. "It’s not about anything bad… I just need space. Why can’t you understand?" Katrina and Clara exchanged a glance, then Katrina spoke softly. "We want to go with you through this, Sally. We want to understand and help you, not just watch from the sidelines." Clara added, "We want to be the best friends we can be. That means sharing your struggles, not just the easy parts." Through her tears, Sally looked up and pulled off her skirt, revealing her wet diaper. "This," she said, her voice trembling, "is what you have to share with me." Katrina and Clara stared at Sally, transfixed at her friend wearing a wet diaper. Sally took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she prepared to open up to her friends in a way she never had before. Her eyes darted between Clara and Katrina, who were both leaning forward, their faces etched with concern and curiosity. "I guess I should start from the beginning," Sally began, her voice trembling slightly. "After the car accident, everything changed for me. I felt so out of control, like everything was spinning and I couldn't grasp onto anything solid. That's when I started wearing footed pajamas again. They made me feel safe and cozy, like I was wrapped in a warm hug." She paused, gauging their reactions. Clara's motherly concern was evident in her eyes, while Katrina's usually confident demeanor was softened by genuine empathy. "At first, it was just a way to feel secure," Sally continued. "You know, something I could control. It was comforting, like being wrapped in a hug that I could carry with me. It made me feel safe. Then I started wearing pull-ups. They were just another layer of comfort, something that made me feel even more secure." Clara nodded, her expression one of understanding. "I get that, Sally. Sometimes we all need something to hold onto." Sally smiled weakly and went on. "Then I started using the pull-ups and discovered it felt good to use them. It wasn't just about the security; there was something more to it. My therapist suggested I wear real diapers to fully experience my 'little' side. So now, I'm wearing diapers, and well," she hesitated, an embarrassed smile forming on her lips, "using them." Katrina and Clara exchanged glances, then Katrina said with a gentle smile, "You actually look adorable, Sally." Sally turned red, but continued speaking. "The Studio became my sanctuary, a place where I could escape and just be myself. I started painting, hoping it would help me express all the things I couldn't put into words. But painting when I'm sad is really hard. It's like the emotions are too heavy to translate into art. The colors don't mix right, and the shapes don't form the way I want them to. Everything just feels incomplete." She picked at a loose thread on her shirt, her voice growing softer. "And then there's the pacifier. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's so soothing. When I'm using it, I feel a sense of calm that I can't find anywhere else. It helps me focus, especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed." Katrina, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "It's not ridiculous, Sally. We all have our ways of coping. Yours might be different, but that doesn't make them any less valid." Sally's eyes welled up with tears. "Thanks, Katrina. I just... I feel so embarrassed about it all. The diapers, the pacifier, the painting... it makes me feel like a child, and I worry what people will think if they find out." Clara reached over and squeezed Sally's hand. "You don't have to worry about us. We're your friends, and we love you no matter what. We just want to understand and support you." Sally took a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "I've been using the diapers more than just for security. There are times when I actually use them because it makes me feel more connected to that sense of safety and comfort. It’s not just about avoiding the bathroom; it’s about the emotional release it provides." Katrina and Clara nodded, their expressions serious but kind. "And the Studio," Sally continued, "it's become my place to explore all these feelings. When I'm there, surrounded by my art and my pacifier, I feel like I can finally breathe. It's like the outside world fades away, and I'm just... me. But even there, I struggle with my paintings. They often reflect my frustration and sadness, and it's hard to see them incomplete, like they're mirroring how I feel inside." Katrina gave her a warm smile. "Sally, your art is beautiful because it’s a part of you. Even if it feels incomplete, it’s a step towards understanding yourself. And it’s okay to need help along the way." Sally wiped a tear from her cheek. "Thank you, Katrina. I guess I’ve been so scared of being judged that I didn't realize how much I needed to talk about this. I feel like I’ve been carrying this huge weight, and just sharing it with you both makes it a little lighter." Clara nodded. "That's what friends are for. We're here to help you carry that weight, no matter what it is." Sally looked at her friends, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. "I don't know what I'd do without you two. It’s been so hard to navigate all of this on my own. And I know I’ve been distant and moody, but it’s just because I didn’t know how to share this part of myself." Katrina leaned in closer. "We’re here for you, Sally. Always. And we’ll figure this out together. If you need to talk, or if you just need us to be there, we will be." "We love you, Sally," Clara said, stepping forward to hug her. Katrina joined in, and they embraced in a three-way hug. Sally felt a hand rest on her diapered butt and found that touch pleasant. She pushed against it, wondering who’s it was. Bridget stood in the sidelines, teary-eyed, holding a diaper and changing supplies. "I’d better change you, Sally. You’re way overdue." Katrina turned to Bridget. "We will change her," she said, and Clara agreed. They needed to prove their acceptance and love for Sally. Sally was resistant at first, but her friends convinced her. Her mother walked away in support of Sally’s friends. Sally trembled in anticipation as they laid her down on the changing mat. Katrina held Sally’s head on her lap as Clara opened the diaper and cleaned her up, taping on a fresh one. Katrina said soothing words to calm Sally, holding her hand. When the diaper change was done, the three girls moved to the sofa for a group cuddle. Their friendship felt stronger than ever. Bridget asked if they wanted something to drink, offering pineapple juice – that was all she had. They accepted, and she brought two glasses and an adult-sized baby bottle for Sally. Sally was surprised and curious at the bottle, but accepted it. She tried to suck from it, but it didn’t work too well. Katrina suggested she lie down on her back and try sucking from it. Sally lay on Katrina’s lap, and as Katrina held the baby bottle, Sally sucked on the silicone teat, finding it easier this way. Clara squeezed in under Sally’s lower body and held Sally’s knees, supporting her gently. Sally was in bliss, relaxed in the arms of her friends, feeling their love and support. As she lay there, sucking on her baby bottle, she wet her diaper again, feeling content and cared for. The bond between the three friends was now unbreakable, sealed with understanding, acceptance, and love. -- Clara and Katrina lay in bed together, the room shrouded in darkness, the only sound the occasional rustling of the sheets as they adjusted their positions. The visit to Sally’s house had been emotionally intense, and now, in the quiet of the night, they found themselves reflecting on what had happened. “I still can’t believe Sally revealed herself like that,” Katrina whispered, breaking the silence. “Taking her skirt off in front of us… that was so brave.” Clara nodded, her mind replaying the moment. “Yeah, it was. I can’t imagine how embarrassing that must have been for her. Honestly, it was embarrassing for me to see her like that too, but also… I don’t know. It felt important, like she was trusting us with a part of herself she’s been hiding for so long.” Katrina turned to face Clara, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it, and Sally looked... I don’t know how to put it. Alluring, I guess, in a diaper. There was something so raw and honest about it.” Clara struggled to find the right words. “Yeah, I felt that too. There was this mix of a sinister look and a deeply infantile, yet decidedly mature quality about it. Seeing her in a wet diaper was… it made me feel things I didn’t expect. It was like she was showing us her most vulnerable side, and it was both heartbreaking and powerful.” Katrina sighed. “I know exactly what you mean. And did you notice, when we were leaving, that Sally had wet her diaper again?” Clara’s eyes widened. “Yes, I did. I actually felt it. When she was drinking from the bottle, she went sort of limp in my arms, and I could feel the diaper suddenly heating up as it rested on my lap. It was such an intimate moment.” “When we hugged, my hand ended resting on her diaper – I wanted to see how it felt – and I think she liked it. She pressed against my hand”, confessed Katrina. “You’re a funky girl, aren’t you?”, said Clara, affectionately. Katrina scooted closer, her hand finding Clara’s under the covers. “This friendship is going places I never imagined. It’s like we’re crossing all these boundaries, but it feels right. We’re really getting to know each other on a deeper level.” Clara squeezed Katrina’s hand, her heart full. “Yeah, we are. And it’s not just about seeing each other’s vulnerabilities, it’s about accepting them, and being there for each other no matter what.” They spooned, their bodies finding comfort in the shared warmth. The events of the day had brought them closer, solidifying a bond that was becoming unbreakable. “I’m glad we’re in this together,” Katrina murmured, her voice soft with affection. “Me too,” Clara replied, her heart swelling with gratitude. “No matter what happens, we have each other. And we’ll be there for Sally, just like she’s been there for us.” In the darkness, they held each other, finding solace in their friendship and the unspoken promise to support one another through anything life threw at them. It was a new beginning to an old friendship, and they were ready to face it together. Wednesday The next day, Sally woke up feeling the familiar sensation of a wet diaper clinging to her skin. She tried to remember when she had wet it, but the memory was hazy. Oh, yes, she did sort of wake up sometime in the night, and… just went in her diaper. It was funny how it was getting more difficult to remember when exactly she wet. She decided to wet it one more time and basked in the warmth spreading through her diaper, feeling a comforting sense of security. Turning her head, she spotted her pacifier and baby bottle on the bedside table. She smiled, knowing her mother must have left them there when she changed her diaper last night. Sally reached for the baby bottle, put the silicone nipple in her mouth, and started sucking. She felt the cool, fresh mineral water fill her mouth, hydrating her after a good night’s sleep and relieving the pastiness. As she sucked on her bottle, Sally’s thoughts drifted to the previous day with Clara and Katrina. She meditated extensively on what happened and how she felt. The relief of finally opening up to her friends about her pull-ups and diapers was immense. She felt a sense of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. The understanding and acceptance from her friends had lifted a weight off her shoulders. She felt a warm glow inside, knowing that her friends were there for her, no matter what. Sally felt a renewed sense of anticipation about seeing Clara and Katrina at school today. She hoped their friendship would continue to grow stronger after yesterday’s heartfelt conversation. A gentle knock on her door pulled Sally from her reverie. “Time for breakfast, honey,” her mother’s voice called from the other side. “I’m in a hurry this morning.” Sally rolled out of bed, feeling the familiar bulk of her diaper between her legs. She didn’t bother to change out of her t-shirt and diaper. She was really tired when her mother had taken her to bed last night and changed her diaper. Besides, it was getting warmer, and the footed pajamas were beginning to feel a bit heavy on her. She figured she’d get a proper change after breakfast. She walked down the stairs, not realizing she was still only in her t-shirt and diaper, the crinkling sound barely registering in her relaxed state. Bridget was bustling around the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast. She turned and smiled warmly at Sally. “Good morning, sweetie. Sleep well?” “Morning, Mom. Yeah, I slept really well,” Sally replied, her pacifier still in hand. Bridget raised an eyebrow playfully. “Well, I can see you’re comfortable,” she said, noting Sally’s attire. “Come on, sit down and have some breakfast. We don’t have much time.” Sally sat at the kitchen table, feeling a sense of normalcy despite her unusual outfit. She dug into her breakfast, enjoying the comforting routine. As she ate, her mind wandered back to her friends and the hopeful feeling of moving forward with them. Today was a new day, and Sally felt ready to face whatever challenges came her way, knowing she had the support of her mother and her friends. Finishing her breakfast, Sally felt ready to start the day. She stood up, stretched, and felt the slightly cold sensation of her wet diaper reminding her it was time for a change. But for now, she was content. She walked back upstairs to get ready for school, looking forward to the day ahead and the support of the people she loved. -- Sally, Katrina, and Clara met at school the next day, their usual banter and laughter filling the hallways as they walked to their first class. Though what had transpired between them the previous evening went unspoken, there was a new sense of closeness that subtly altered the dynamic of their friendship. The day at school passed in a blur of classes, lunch breaks, and shared jokes. Katrina's extroverted, bossy demeanor clashed humorously with Clara's motherly, know-it-all attitude, creating an entertaining backdrop to their academic routine. "Did you see Mrs. Jensen’s face when Katrina corrected her about the Pythagorean theorem?" Clara laughed as they exited their math class. "I couldn’t help it! She was so wrong," Katrina defended herself, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Sally giggled, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. "You two are impossible." At lunch, they sat under their usual tree in the courtyard, enjoying the mild weather. Clara pulled out her notebook, reviewing her strategy for her online chess tournament later that afternoon. "You know, you should come over after school," Katrina suggested, nudging Sally. "We can hang out, watch a movie or something." Clara glanced up from her notes. "I wish I could, but I have that chess tournament. Sally, you should definitely go. It’ll be fun." Sally hesitated, feeling the dampness of her pull-up reminding her of its presence. She had already changed twice today and didn’t have any more pull-ups to change into. But she really wanted to spend time with Katrina. Deciding to forego her pull-ups for the afternoon, she nodded. "Sure, I'd love to." The final bell rang, and the girls parted ways. Katrina and Sally walked together to Katrina’s house, chatting about their plans for the weekend. Once inside Katrina's room, Katrina offered, "Do you want to change into something more comfortable? I’ve got some clothes that might fit you." Sally agreed, feeling a bit nervous but excited. They rummaged through Katrina’s closet, eventually finding a t-shirt and some lounge pants that would work for Sally. Katrina had already stripped down and was changing into something similar. As Sally did the same, she unveiled her wet pull-up to Katrina. "It’s time for a change, don’t you think?" Katrina remarked casually. Sally blushed. "I didn’t bring any extra pull-ups with me." Katrina winked. "I’ve got just the thing." Wearing only panties, she charged into her closet and returned with a package of Ninjamas. Sally was stunned. "Why do you have these?" Katrina grinned. "I bought them a few days ago, just in case you might need them. I’m glad I did." Sally noticed the package had been opened. "You opened them already." Katrina's grin turned sly. "I had to try one on to make sure they’d fit you. And now I’m confident they will." Sally couldn't help but laugh, imagining Katrina trying on a Ninjama. "I bet you looked adorable in them." "Not as adorable as you will," Katrina teased, holding out an open Ninjama. With a mix of embarrassment and appreciation, Sally stripped down completely and removed her pull-up. Katrina, with foresight, handed her a brand-new package of baby wipes. "Thanks," Sally said timidly, wiping herself down. She then stepped into the open Ninjama that Katrina held out for her and allowed her friend to pull them snugly up her legs and onto her hips. Blushing, Sally twirled around for Katrina’s enjoyment. "They feel different from my Goodnites. I like the colorful designs." Katrina beamed. "I knew you’d like them." Sally finished dressing in the shorts and t-shirt, grateful for the comfort and security of the new Ninjama. They settled down to finish their homework, the room filled with a comfortable silence occasionally broken by snippets of conversation and laughter. Later, they went downstairs for dinner. Katrina’s mother greeted them warmly, asking about their day. Sally was thankful that Katrina was a couple of sizes bigger than her; the baggy pants hid her new Ninjamas well. As they ate, Sally reflected on how fortunate she was to have friends like Katrina and Clara. Their support and understanding meant everything to her. She smiled, feeling a sense of peace and contentment. After dinner, they retreated back to Katrina’s room, where they continued their conversation and shared more laughs. Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for the bond they shared, knowing that no matter what challenges came their way, their friendship would remain strong and unbreakable. Sally had taken her pants off as Katrina had shed hers first, a testament to Sally’s relaxed demeanor. Thursday After school and homework, Thursday in the Studio brought another new addition: a pair of yellow plastic panties. Sally eagerly put them on over her diaper, feeling the added layer of protection and the slight crinkle they made with each movement. She paired them with her pink t-shirt that was two sizes too small, completing the look and making her feel even more like a baby. Sally's painting continued to evolve as she delved into more detailed subjects, like serene landscapes and intricate still-life compositions. The plastic panties she wore over her diaper provided a newfound sense of security, allowing her to focus entirely on her art without any distractions. As she moved around her studio, Sally couldn't help but be fascinated by the smooth, slick texture of the plastic panties. The waistband fit perfectly, and the soft rustling sound they made with every step added to the comforting ambiance of her creative space. Frequently, she ran her fingers over the plastic material, marveling at how it crinkled and flexed with her movements, amplifying her sense of being wrapped up and secure. Lost in the process of painting, Sally felt the familiar urge to pee. Without breaking her concentration, she relaxed and let the warm liquid flow into her diaper. The warmth spread quickly, and she felt the diaper swell slightly under the protective barrier of her plastic panties. The sensation was deeply comforting, a physical reminder of her secure, infantile state. The plastic panties held everything in place, preventing any leaks. Sally loved how the plastic felt even more over a wet diaper—there was a satisfying squishiness when she pressed her hand against the front, and the added weight made her feel even more grounded and secure. The rustling sound was more pronounced now, enhancing her sense of comfort and safety. She couldn’t keep her hands off herself, and eventually the silicone gloves came off for good. -- Bridget walked confidently towards the Studio, ready to change Sally’s diaper. It had become a routine, a part of their unique mother-daughter bond that had grown stronger over the past few months and something she looked forward to doing. As she opened the door, she was taken aback by what she saw. Sally was lying on the sofa, her hand rubbing the front of her new plastic panties as if she had an itch. The look of surprise on Sally’s face was like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes widened, and her hand froze. Bridget could see the mix of emotions flooding Sally’s face—embarrassment, confusion, and fear. Bridget’s heart ached for her daughter. She quickly closed the door, giving Sally a moment to compose herself. Bridget felt a wave of embarrassment herself, but she knew she had to handle this with love and sensitivity. She took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door before opening it again. “Sally, sweetie, can I come in?” Bridget asked softly, her voice filled with compassion. Sally sat up; her face flushed with shame. “Mom, I... I didn’t mean...” Bridget crossed the room and sat next to Sally, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to explain right now. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Sally’s eyes filled with tears. “Mom, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just... sometimes it feels... good, and I don’t understand why. Am I crazy?” Bridget wrapped her arms around Sally, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, you are not crazy. There are so many things about ourselves that we don’t understand, and that’s okay. What you’re feeling is natural, and it’s something we can talk to Dr. Thompson about. She’ll know how to help us put the correct focus on this.” Sally clung to her mother, her body trembling with emotion. “I’m so embarrassed, Mom. What if Dr. Thompson thinks I’m weird?” Bridget gently lifted Sally’s chin, looking into her eyes with warmth and love. “Dr. Thompson is here to help us, not judge us. And I promise you, she’s seen and heard everything. This is just another part of our journey, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Sally sniffled and nodded, her tears beginning to subside. “But what if... what if I can’t stop feeling like this?” Bridget stroked Sally’s hair, her voice soothing and calm. “Feelings can be a part of who we are, Sally. They guide us and help us understand ourselves better. What’s important is that we learn to manage them in a healthy way. And that’s why we have Dr. Thompson. She’s here to guide us through this, together.” Sally took a deep breath, finding comfort in her mother’s words. “Thank you, Mom. I’m scared”. Bridget smiled, kissing the top of Sally’s head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Now, how about we get you changed and then maybe we can do something fun together?” Sally nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “I’d like that”, she said, still red in the face. Bridget helped Sally lie back down, carefully and lovingly changing her diaper. She made sure to be gentle, not just with her hands, but with her words, constantly reassuring Sally that she was loved and accepted no matter what. Once the fresh diaper was in place, Bridget helped Sally into her favorite t-shirt and led her out of the studio. They spent the rest of the afternoon doing things that made Sally happy, eating, watching a movie, and just being together. As the evening drew to a close, Bridget tucked Sally into bed, her heart swelling with pride and love for her brave daughter. “Goodnight, Sally. Remember, you’re never alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.” Sally smiled sleepily. “Love ya.” “I love you too, sweetheart. Always,” Bridget whispered, turning off the light and closing the door. As Bridget walked down the hallway, she felt a sense of peace. She knew there were challenges ahead, but with love, respect, and the right guidance from Dr. Thompson, they would face them together. Chapter 22 – Flying Altitude Friday Dr. Thompson’s office, a warm and welcoming space, had become a familiar place for Sally. The soft lighting, comfortable furniture, and calming artwork created an environment where she felt safe to express her thoughts and feelings. Today, however, she felt more nervous than usual. Sitting in a plush chair, Sally fidgeted with her hands, glancing around the room. Dr. Thompson, a kind and empathetic woman, sat across from her, radiating calm and understanding. "Hi, Sally," Dr. Thompson greeted her warmly. "How are you feeling today?" Sally took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I’m okay, Dr. Thompson. There’s something I need to talk about, though. It’s... a bit embarrassing." "Remember, Sally, you can talk to me about anything," Dr. Thompson reassured her. "This is a safe space, and I’m here to help." Sally shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting around the room. "I don't know where to start," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Dr. Thompson nodded understandingly. "It's okay to feel anxious, Sally. We can take it one step at a time. Is there something specific that's been on your mind lately?" Sally hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Well, it's just... I've been feeling really... I don't know, embarrassed about something." Dr. Thompson leaned forward slightly, maintaining a gentle tone. "Sometimes it helps to talk about those things that make us feel embarrassed. Is it about something you've been doing or thinking about?" Sally's face flushed, and she looked down at her hands. "Maybe," she whispered. Dr. Thompson offered a reassuring smile. "Your mom mentioned she was a bit worried about you experiencing your diapers in a physical way. Is that something that's been on your mind?" Sally's head snapped up, and she quickly looked away, her body tensing. "I... I don't want to talk about that," she said, her voice shaking. "That's okay, Sally," Dr. Thompson said softly. "I just want to help you feel at ease. Masturbation is actually quite common, and it's not something to be ashamed of. It's natural to feel curious about our bodies, especially during the teenage years." Sally's eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent. Dr. Thompson continued, "Physical sensations can be wonderful, and discovering them is a part of growing up. There's no shame in it. Sometimes, when we're caught in an intimate moment, like when we are undressed, in the bathroom… and when we are masturbating. It can feel shocking or embarrassing, but that's okay. These moments are part of learning about ourselves." Sally took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a bit. "So... it isn’t weird?" "Not at all," Dr. Thompson reassured her. "It's just a part of being human. And talking about it, even if it feels uncomfortable at first, can help you understand and feel better about it. You're not alone, Sally. Many people explore their bodies and their sexuality in different ways. Masturbation, in particular, is a natural and healthy way to understand your own sexual desires and needs." Sally’s face radiated skepticism. "Really? But the diapers... isn’t that weird?" Dr. Thompson shook her head. "Not at all, Sally. Everyone has unique ways of experiencing pleasure and comfort. In your case, wearing diapers provides you with a sense of security and control, which can be very comforting, especially given your recent experiences." Sally listened intently, feeling a bit of the weight lifting from her shoulders. "So, it's really okay for me to feel this way?" Her voice turned to barely above a whisper. "The other day, my mom walked in on me... rubbing myself over my diaper. It felt good, but I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’ve done it several times and... I’ve reached… I’ve reached orgasm every time. Like powerful, better than when I did it like… the normal way. Am I crazy?" "Absolutely not," Dr. Thompson reassured her, passionately. "From a psychological perspective, what you're doing is a form of self-exploration. It’s important to understand that masturbation is a healthy part of sexual development. By exploring your feelings and desires, you're learning more about yourself." Sally looked thoughtful. "But why do I feel this way? Why do the diapers make me feel secure and... excited this way?" Dr. Thomson nodded thoughtfully, maintaining a calm and compassionate demeanor. "It's completely normal to have different things that make us feel secure or even aroused. Our minds and bodies are complex, and sometimes they form connections that we might not fully understand at first." She paused for a moment, allowing Sally to process her words. "Feeling secure with certain objects, like diapers in your case, could be linked to various factors from your past experiences or even the sense of comfort they provide. It's important to remember that human sexuality and emotions are diverse, and there’s no one 'right' way to feel." Dr. Thompson continued gently, "What's most important is understanding that these feelings are a part of who you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's about exploring them in a way that feels safe and healthy for you. If these feelings ever make you uncomfortable or if you have any concerns, we can talk through them together and find ways to help you feel more at ease." Sally looked relieved but still a bit uncertain. "So, it's okay to feel this way… and do that?" "Absolutely," Dr. Thompson affirmed with a warm smile. "Everyone has unique aspects of their identity and what makes them feel secure or excited. The key is to approach these feelings with kindness toward yourself and to understand that they don't define your worth or who you are. If you ever need to talk more about this, or anything else, know that I'm here to support you every step of the way." Sally nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Thanks, Dr. Thompson. I think I feel a bit better now." "That's what I'm here for," Dr. Thompson said warmly. "We can keep talking about anything you need, at your own pace." Sally took another deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay. I'll try." "You're doing great, Sally," Dr. Thompson encouraged. "Remember, this is your space to share anything you need to." -- Bridget sat in Dr. Thompson’s office, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. She needed guidance on how to support her daughter through this confusing time. Dr. Thompson’s calm presence helped soothe her nerves. She had left Sally waiting outside, relieved to see her content and calm. "Bridget, it’s good to see you," Dr. Thompson greeted her with a reassuring smile. "How are you holding up?" Bridget sighed, feeling the weight of her worries. "I’m doing okay. When I saw Sally now, she seemed so serene. I was relieved to see her like that." Dr. Thompson nodded. "That's wonderful to hear. I've been quite satisfied with Sally's progress so far. Now, let's discuss what's been happening and how we can continue to support her." Bridget sighed, feeling the weight of her worries. "There’s something that happened with Sally that I’m not sure how to handle." "Tell me what’s on your mind," Dr. Thompson encouraged, her tone gentle. Bridget took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "The other day, I walked in on Sally... touching herself over her diaper… she was clearly masturbating. She looked so embarrassed and confused. I didn’t know what to say, so I just tried to comfort her." Dr. Thompson nodded, listening intently. "It sounds like you handled it with a lot of compassion, Bridget. That’s important." "But what do I do now?" Bridget asked, her voice tinged with worry. "I don’t want her to feel ashamed or think there’s something wrong with her." Dr. Thompson leaned back, her expression thoughtful. "It’s crucial for Sally to understand that her feelings and actions are normal. She mentioned to me that she has masturbated in her diapers several times and reached orgasm. Powerful ones. This shows that she’s exploring her body and understanding her needs. It’s a sign that she’s accepting her 'little' side, which is a positive step in her emotional development." Bridget’s eyes widened slightly. "Really? I was worried she might be feeling more confused." Dr. Thompson smiled reassuringly. "It’s natural for her to feel confused, but what’s important is that she’s not suppressing these feelings. We need to help her understand and accept them without shame. It’s about building her self-esteem and helping her feel secure in her identity." "So, what should I do?" Bridget asked, eager to support her daughter. "Continue to be there for her, just as you have been," Dr. Thompson advised. "Reassure her that her feelings are valid and that she’s not alone. Encourage open communication, and let her know that it’s okay to talk about these things without fear of judgment. And, of course, we’ll continue to work together in therapy to help her navigate these emotions." Bridget looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. "But the diapers... and the fact that she was doing it in such a... childlike context. It just feels so confusing." Dr. Thompson nodded thoughtfully. "It’s not uncommon for people to find comfort in familiar or comforting items, especially during such explorative moments. Sally is navigating her feelings and her sense of self. The diapers are a part of her 'little' side that she finds soothing. It doesn’t negate her teenage body and urges”, she said, reasonably. Bridget’s eyes met Dr. Thompson's, seeking reassurance. "So, you’re saying this is all part of her growing process?" "Exactly," Dr. Thompson said with a warm smile. "Sally is blending her experiences of comfort with her natural teenage curiosity and physical urges. It’s a part of her development. By exploring her 'little' side, she's finding ways to feel safe and secure. And I want to emphasize that this doesn't cancel out her normal teenage desires, she has a developing body; if anything, these desires might be more pronounced because she's more in tune with herself." Bridget took a deep breath, remembering her own teenage years. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. "I was so afraid I was failing her, not knowing how to react." Dr. Thompson shook her head gently. "You’re doing an excellent job, Bridget. You’re supportive and caring, which is exactly what Sally needs. It’s okay to feel uncertain, but remember, this is a journey for both of you. As Sally continues to grow and explore, there will be moments of confusion, but that’s part of the process." Bridget nodded, feeling a sense of relief. "Thank you, Dr. Thompson. I’ll do my best to support Sally and help her feel comfortable with herself." "That’s the best thing you can do, Bridget," Dr. Thompson said warmly. "With your love and support, Sally will continue to grow and understand herself better. And remember, I’m always here to help guide both of you through this process." -- As Sally and her mother Bridget drove home from their sessions with Dr. Thompson, the car was filled with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Bridget glanced over at Sally, who was staring out the window, lost in thought. The gentle hum of the car engine provided a comforting background noise. Bridget cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "Hey, Sally. Do you want to talk a bit more about what happened? I know it was really awkward and embarrassing when I walked in on you, and I want to make sure you're okay." Sally shifted in her seat, her fingers tracing patterns on her skirt. "Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I didn't know how to explain it, and I felt so… exposed." Bridget nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. "I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you. But I want you to know that I'm not judging you at all. We all have things that make us feel secure or comforted, and there's nothing wrong with that." Sally turned to look at her mother, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Really? You don't think I'm weird?" Bridget gave her a reassuring smile. "Absolutely not. You're my daughter, and I love you no matter what. Dr. Thompson helped me understand that these feelings are just a part of who you are, and that's okay. I'm here to support you." Sally felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot to hear you say that. I was so scared you'd think differently of me." Bridget reached over and gently squeezed Sally's hand. "Never. We all have our own quirks and things that make us feel safe. What matters is that we understand and support each other. If you ever want to talk about it more or need anything, I'm here." Sally squeezed her mother's hand back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. I guess I just need some time to get used to talking about it." Bridget nodded. "Take all the time you need. There's no rush. Just know that you don't have to go through this alone. We've got each other." After a brief pause, Bridget took a deep breath and said, "You know, Sally, I want to tell you something important. When I walked in on you that day, it was definitely a shock, but as I thought about it later, I realized something. I was actually proud of you." Sally looked at her mother in surprise. "Proud? Why?" Bridget smiled warmly. "Because it showed that you were completely enjoying and accepting this new 'little' side of yourself. You were at ease and relaxed, just being yourself in your diapers and feeling secure. That takes a lot of courage and self-acceptance, and I'm proud of you for that. I’ll have to announce my presence before I enter the studio from now on", she said, winking. Sally smiled as her eyes filled with tears, but this time they were tears of relief and gratitude. "Thanks, Mom. That means so much to me. I was so worried you'd be disappointed or think I was weird." Bridget shook her head. "Not at all. You're exploring who you are, and that's a beautiful thing. We'll figure this out together, one step at a time." The car fell into a comfortable silence for a while, the tension from earlier dissipating. The bond between them felt stronger, and Sally knew she could count on her mother's support. As they approached their neighborhood, Sally spoke up again, with a broken voice, trying to keep even. "Maybe we can do something fun together when we get home? Like watch a movie or play a game?" Bridget's face lit up with a smile. "That sounds perfect. Let's do something that makes us both happy." Sally hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Mom, there's one more thing... I, um, I wet my diaper." Bridget's eyes widened in surprise. "You’re wearing a diaper right now? An actual diaper?" She hadn’t expected Sally to be wearing a diaper outside of house. Sally blushed and lifted the edge of her skirt, revealing the crotch of a wet diaper. "Yeah, I am. I felt so comfortable in them during the session. It relaxed me." Bridget took a moment to process, then smiled warmly. "I'm surprised, but also impressed that you felt so at ease. I admire your confidence, Sally." Sally grinned slyly. "And you know what? Dr. Thompson didn't even notice." They both laughed, the tension fully melting away. Bridget shook her head, chuckling. "Well, you certainly managed to pull that off with style." Sally giggled. "Maybe I've found my hidden talent. Stealth diaper wearing!" Bridget laughed along with her. "Well, let's get home and enjoy that movie or game. And if you need a change, just let me know." With that, they continued their journey home, feeling closer and more connected than ever, ready to face whatever came their way together. -- Arriving home offered more excitement. Sally entered the studio to find a new diaper waiting for her—one with baby prints, reminiscent of the Pampers she wore as a little baby. It was her size, she realized, in amazement. Her mother had followed her and was there to help her change into it, and the experience was both exciting and nostalgic. As Bridget gently helped Sally into the new diaper, they shared a tender moment, filled with love. As Bridget looked at her teenage daughter wearing a baby-printed diaper, a rush of emotions washed over her. The sight reawakened her motherly yearns, bringing back memories of when Sally was just a little baby, completely dependent on her for comfort and care. There was something profoundly touching about seeing her daughter embrace this vulnerable side of herself, and Bridget felt a deep sense of connection and protectiveness. Afterwards, they headed to the living room. "Alright, Mom," Sally said with a smile, "your turn to pick the movie." Bridget hesitated. "Are you sure, sweetheart? I want to choose something we both enjoy." Sally nodded firmly. "I insist. I want to please you, Mom. Just pick something you love." With a sigh and a smile, Bridget finally relented. "Okay, how about 'Before Sunset'? It's one of my favorites." Sally's eyes twinkled with secret happiness. "Perfect. Let's get cozy." They settled onto the couch, with Sally snuggling up close to her mother. As the movie started, Sally felt the warmth and safety of her mother's embrace. The long, soothing dialogues soon had the desired effect, and Sally's eyes began to droop. Bridget looked down at her daughter, a soft smile on her face. She gently stroked Sally's hair, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Sally was right where she wanted to be, in one of her favorite places in the world: her mother's arms. As the movie played on, Sally drifted off to sleep, the comforting presence of her mother wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Bridget continued to watch, holding her daughter close, feeling grateful for these precious moments together. Their bond had grown stronger through their shared experiences, and they both knew they could face anything together. In the quiet of the living room, with the soft glow of the TV casting gentle shadows, mother and daughter found peace and joy in each other's company. It was a perfect end to a day filled with understanding, acceptance, and love. As Bridget continued to gently brush Sally's hair, she could feel her daughter relaxing even more. Sally, so positively relaxed and drowsy, let herself completely unwind. The comforting routine of her mother's gentle strokes through her hair made her feel safe and loved. In that blissful state, she felt a warm sensation spread through her diaper as she let herself pee, fully surrendering to the comfort of the moment. Bridget noticed and held Sally even closer, whispering softly, "It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax. I'm here." Sally smiled drowsily, feeling utterly at peace. She knew she was loved unconditionally and that her mother would always be there for her, no matter what. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt an overwhelming sense of security and happiness, wrapped in her mother's unwavering love. -- "Hey, Sally, the movie's over," Bridget said softly, gently nudging her daughter awake. "How are you feeling?" “Sleepy. What time is it? Bridget glanced at the clock. "It's just past 10 PM, sweetheart. You dozed off pretty early. Did you have a good nap?" “More like a deep sleep”, she murmured. “Are we going to bed? Bridget smiled warmly. "Yes, it seems like you really needed it. We can head to bed now if you'd like. Do you want me to help you get ready for bed?" “I wet my diaper”, Sally announced. Bridget nodded gently, her expression warm and understanding. "That's okay, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up and into a fresh one before we head to bed. I'm here to help." “I left my plastic panties in the Studio. Can I wear them to bed?”, asked Sally, still sleepy, but inspired. Bridget smiled reassuringly. "Of course, sweetheart. I’ll go to the studio and get your panties. Then we can get you ready for bed. Do you need anything else?" Sally shook her head and got up groggily from the sofa. Her mother walked her to bed. She noticed her new baby diaper was quite soaked. She laid her in bed and went to the Studio to get the new plastic panties. When she returned Sally was asleep again. Bridget gently coaxed Sally awake, her voice soft and soothing. "Sally, sweetheart, I need to get you changed before you go back to sleep," she murmured, giving her daughter's shoulder a gentle shake. Sally groaned, her eyes fluttering open, and she complained, rubbing her eyes. Bridget smiled warmly. "I know, honey. It'll just take a minute, and then you can go back to sleep, all cozy and dry." With practiced care, Bridget began changing Sally's wet diaper. Sally squirmed a bit, still groggy and half-asleep. "Do we really have to do this now?" she mumbled. "Yes, we do," Bridget said gently, her hands moving with efficiency and tenderness. "You'll feel much better, I promise." After cleaning Sally up, Bridget reached for a new, thicker diaper. She wryly slipped in a booster pad for additional absorbency, knowing her daughter was likely to wet a lot during the night. "This will help you stay dry until morning," she explained, more to herself than to Sally, who was already starting to drift off again. Bridget carefully taped the diaper in place, making sure it was snug and secure. Then she picked up the plastic panties, struggling slightly to get them over the now very thick diaper. With a bit of effort, she managed to slip them up and over, ensuring they fit properly. "There we go," Bridget said softly, leaning down to kiss Sally's forehead. "All set. You can go back to sleep now, sweetheart." Sally murmured something unintelligible, already halfway back to dreamland. Bridget tucked the blanket around her daughter, making sure she was comfortable and warm. "Goodnight, my sweet girl," she whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from Sally's face. "Sleep well." As Bridget turned off the light and quietly left the room, she felt a deep sense of love and fulfillment. These tender moments, caring for her daughter with such devotion, were the ones she cherished most. -- Sally woke up slowly, the morning light filtering through her bedroom window. She stretched, feeling the bulk of the thick diaper and plastic panties, which reminded her of the previous night's events. With a slight waddle, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where her mother was preparing breakfast. Hearing Sally’s plastic panties rustle, she turned to the stairway. "Good morning, sweetheart," Bridget greeted her with a warm smile. "How did you sleep?" "Morning, Mom," Sally replied, waddling down, still feeling a bit groggy. "I slept really well. I didn't even wake up once." Bridget glanced at her daughter, noticing the slight waddle. "That's good to hear. Did you wet your diaper?" Sally blushed slightly but nodded. "Yeah, but it's such a thick diaper that I don't even feel wet." Bridget chuckled softly. "That's exactly why I put you in a thicker diaper with a booster pad, so you wouldn't have to worry about any leaks. Looks like it did the job perfectly." Sally grinned, feeling a mix of amusement and comfort. "I guess so. It still feels like there's plenty of room for more wetting." "Good to know," Bridget said with a playful smile. "That means you can enjoy your breakfast without any interruptions. Let's sit down and eat." They both sat at the table, enjoying a hearty breakfast. Sally couldn't help but feel a sense of normalcy and acceptance from her mother, which made her feel more at ease with her "little" side. After finishing breakfast, Bridget gently suggested, "How about we head to the studio? I have a little surprise for you there." Sally's eyes lit up with curiosity. "A surprise? I love surprises!" Bridget led Sally to the studio. As they entered the room, Sally immediately noticed a brand new onesie laid out on a chair. It was covered in playful, childish designs of animals and balloons, complete with a snap crotch. "Wow, Mom, look at this!" Sally exclaimed, her face lighting up with delight. "It's so cute!" Bridget smiled warmly. "I thought you might like it. I wanted to get you something that would keep your diaper from sagging and make you feel even more comfortable." Sally couldn't wait to try it on. She quickly pulled off her t-shirt. Bridget helped her slide the onesie over her head and arms, adjusting it until it fit perfectly. "Alright, sweetheart, open your legs so I can snap it closed," Bridget instructed gently. Sally obediently spread her legs, and Bridget skillfully snapped the crotch of the onesie over the plastic panties. "There you go, all set." Bridget stepped back, admiring how adorable and comfortable Sally looked. "You look wonderful, Sally. I'll leave you alone for a bit to get used to it. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." As her mother left the room, Sally walked over to the full-length mirror. She turned from side to side, admiring the fit of the onesie. The playful designs made her smile, and she loved how the onesie held her diaper snugly in place, preventing any sagging. Sally let go and peed into the diaper, feeling a delightful sensation as the soaked padding was pressing gently against her, this time with no sagging. "This is perfect," Sally murmured to herself, running her hands over and pressing the soft fabric. "It feels so cozy." She took a few steps, feeling how the onesie moved with her and kept her diaper secure. The snug fit made her feel safe and embraced, almost like a gentle hug. It even muffled the plastic panties protecting her from leaks. Sally's reflection beamed back at her, the combination of the thick diaper and the new onesie giving her a sense of comfort and delight. She spun around once more, feeling the playful designs add a touch of joy to her day. "I love this onesie." Filled with a renewed sense of happiness and comfort, Sally headed to her painting station, ready to let her creativity flow. She felt a surge of gratitude for her mother's thoughtfulness, knowing that she was truly loved and accepted just as she was. Satudray As the morning sun streamed through the studio windows, Sally was already immersed in her painting, feeling the comfort of her new onesie. Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking her concentration. Bridget opened the door to reveal Clara and Katrina, Sally’s best friends. Clara, with her calm demeanor and thoughtful smile, greeted Bridget warmly, while Katrina, with her wild curls and infectious energy, bounced on her heels. “Hey, Mrs. B! We’re here to keep our favorite artist company!” Katrina announced enthusiastically. “Thanks for coming, girls,” Bridget said with a smile. “I need to get some shopping done, and I know Sally will appreciate the company.” Clara nodded. “Of course, we’re happy to babysit. We’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.” Bridget glanced back at the studio and saw Sally was peeking out the banister, bashful, yet excited to see her friends. “Alright then, I’ll be back in a few hours. Have fun, girls!” With a wave, Bridget left, leaving the three friends in the cozy studio. “Hey, Sally! Look at you in that adorable onesie!” Katrina exclaimed as she and Clara walked in. Sally blushed a bit but grinned. “Thanks. My mom got it for me. It’s really comfy.” Katrina smiled and noticed the slight bulge under the onesie. “Wow, that diaper looks pretty thick today. Are you wearing plastic panties too?” Sally nodded, feeling a mix of shyness and comfort from her friends' acceptance. “Yeah, my mom put a booster pad in to make it more absorbent, and the plastic panties are to protect from leaks.” Clara walked over and gave Sally a gentle hug. “You look great, Sal. And it looks like you’re making amazing progress on your painting.” Katrina plopped down on a beanbag chair with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, school has been such a drag lately. I’m so glad we get to hang out here instead. What’s the latest gossip?” Sally laughed, dipping her brush in paint. “Not much, really. Just the usual life stuff. But I did hear that my mom’s charity project is about to kick off in a big way. They’re launching a nationwide education program for gifted teenagers from low-income families.” Clara’s eyes widened with interest. “That sounds incredible. It’s such an important cause. Your mom must be really busy with that.” Katrina nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that sounds like a huge project. I can’t imagine all the planning and coordination it must take.” Sally sighed, her brush pausing mid-stroke. “She’s going to be even busier in the coming weeks. I’m really proud of her, but I’m worried I’ll have to spend more time on my own.” Clara grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, that just means more time for us to get into trouble together.” Katrina laughed. “Exactly! Who needs moms when you have best friends ready to help you take over the world—or at least the mall?” Sally chuckled, feeling her spirits lift. “You two always know how to cheer me up. But seriously, I’m not sure what I’ll do with all that free time.” Clara winked. “Oh, we’ll think of something. Maybe we can start our own little project. I’ve always wanted to see if we can break the record for the longest movie marathon.” Katrina’s eyes lit up. “Or we could try every single dessert in that new bakery downtown. It’s for science, of course.” Sally laughed, feeling the weight of her worries lighten. “You both have a knack for making everything sound like an adventure. I guess I’m in good hands.” Clara nodded sagely. “Naturally. We’re experts in turning boredom into excitement. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.” Katrina added, “And who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden talent. Like becoming world-class painters, or mastering the art of procrastination.” Sally grinned. “Pretty sure we’ve already got that last one down.” Clara and Katrina laughed along with her. “True, but there’s always room for improvement,” Clara said, her eyes sparkling with humor. Katrina then leaned closer, her tone becoming more serious yet playful. “You know, Sally, even though your mom will be busy, Clara and I are here for you. We’re your mommies now, for whatever you need. For example, to change the soaked diaper you’re wearing.” Sally blushed but smiled, feeling a wave of affection for her friends. “Thanks, you two. I guess this won’t be so bad after all.” Katrina nudged Sally playfully. “Of course not. With us around, it’s going to be legendary. We’ll make sure of it.” Sally stood up and gathered the supplies, including the baby diaper she had worn yesterday. She laid out her changing mat on the floor and lay down, feeling a mix of shyness and trust. Clara knelt beside her, her voice soft and encouraging. “You’re such a good girl, Sally.” She noticed how Sally’s face lit up at the praise. Katrina joined in, gently helping with the change. “We’re always here for you, Sally. Just like real mommies.” As they changed Sally’s diaper, their actions were filled with care and tenderness, deepening the bond between them. Sally felt truly loved and supported, knowing that Clara and Katrina would always be there for her, no matter what. As the conversation flowed, Clara and Katrina took turns admiring Sally’s artwork, praising her talent and creativity. Katrina occasionally jumped up to grab snacks or mimic a particularly funny teacher, making Sally and Clara laugh. Sally felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Despite her daytime incontinence issues, her friends treated her with such kindness and normalcy. Their support made her feel loved and accepted. After a while, Sally put down her brush and stretched. “Thanks for hanging out with me, guys. It really means a lot.” Clara smiled warmly. “Anytime, Sal. We’re always here for you.” Katrina nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! Besides, who wouldn’t want to hang out with our favorite little artist?” -- Clara and Katrina found themselves sitting in a cozy nook of Katrina’s bedroom, a soft glow from the setting sun casting warm light across the room. They had just finished their day with Sally, and now, with a moment to themselves, they reflected on the progress their friendship had made. Katrina leaned back against the cushions, her fingers gently playing with a strand of Clara’s hair. “You know, today felt really special. I think we’ve come a long way with Sally.” Clara nodded, her hand resting on Katrina’s knee, drawing small circles. “Absolutely. I was thinking about something, though. Earlier, when I called Sally a ‘good girl,’ she seemed to light up. It was like those words transformed her.” Katrina tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Really? That’s interesting. Did you notice if it happened before?” Clara sighed softly, recalling past moments. “Yes, I’ve seen it before. Whenever I’ve said something similar, she always reacts positively. I wonder if it’s some kind of trigger for her, something that makes her feel especially safe and valued.” Katrina’s fingers traced gentle patterns on Clara’s arm. “That makes sense. Trigger words can have a powerful effect, especially if they tap into deep-seated feelings or needs. If ‘good girl’ brings her comfort and affirmation, it could be really beneficial for her.” Clara smiled, her eyes meeting Katrina’s with a shared understanding. “We should keep that in mind. Using trigger words like that could help Sally feel more secure and loved. It’s amazing how small things can make such a big difference.” Katrina leaned in, brushing a tender kiss against Clara’s temple. “You have such a wonderful way of noticing these things, Clara. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.” Clara’s cheeks flushed with warmth, her heart swelling with affection. “Thank you, Katrina. And I love you too. Your strength and compassion are what make us such a great team.” Katrina smiled warmly, her hand gently cupping Clara’s cheek. “I love you because you’re such an excellent mommy for Sally. The way you care for her is truly amazing.” Clara’s eyes filled with emotion, and she placed her hand over Katrina’s. “I feel the same way about you, Katrina. You’re a wonderful mommy to Sally, and I’m so grateful for you.” Katrina leaned in closer, her voice a soft whisper. “You know, Clara, it’s not just your nurturing side that I love. It’s everything about you. The way you laugh, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about.” Clara blushed, feeling the warmth of Katrina’s words. “You always know how to make me feel special. It’s one of the many reasons I love you so much.” Katrina’s eyes sparkled with affection. “And I love the way you challenge me, the way you’re always there to lift me up when I need it. You make me a better person, Clara.” Clara’s heart swelled with love. “You do the same for me, Katrina. You bring so much joy and excitement into my life. I can’t imagine it without you.” Katrina smiled, her thumb gently caressing Clara’s cheek. “We make a great team, don’t we?” Clara nodded, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “Yes, we do. And I’m so grateful for every moment we share.” Katrina leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed Clara softly on the lips. “Here’s to many more moments together,” she murmured against Clara’s lips. Clara smiled, feeling a surge of love and contentment. “To many more,” she whispered back, pulling Katrina into a loving embrace and returning the kiss. As they held each other, their hearts beat in unison, filled with the promise of a future built on love, trust, and unwavering support. Their bond, strengthened by their shared experiences and deep affection for each other, felt unbreakable. Chapter 23 - Deep enough [A few weeks later] As Sally, Katrina, and Clara walked through the mall, their usual banter and laughter filled the air. They had spent the last hour trying on clothes, joking about fashion choices, and sharing inside jokes that only close friends could understand. But as the day wore on, Sally couldn’t shake the feeling that something needed to be addressed. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the way Katrina and Clara seemed almost in their own little world sometimes—it was all becoming too obvious to ignore. Sally had always been observant, and over the past few weeks, she had noticed how their dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t just about the time they spent together or the way they looked at each other. There was a new layer to their relationship, something unspoken but palpable. Sally had her suspicions, but she wanted to hear it from them directly. As they left one of the stores, Sally suggested they take a break at a café. They found a cozy corner and ordered drinks, the atmosphere relaxed but charged with an undercurrent of anticipation—at least for Sally. She took a deep breath, deciding that now was the time to address what had been on her mind. “Hey, can I ask you guys something?” Sally began, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness. “Sure, what’s up?” Katrina replied, taking a sip of her iced coffee. Sally hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I’ve noticed something... different between you two lately. I mean, we’ve always been close, but... well, I’ve just been wondering if there’s something more going on between you guys.” Katrina and Clara exchanged a quick glance, the kind of look that spoke volumes without saying a word. Sally caught it and decided to push a little further. “You know, you don’t have to hide anything from me,” Sally said softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other, the way you touch each other. It’s not just friendly anymore, is it?” There was a brief silence as Katrina and Clara both looked down at their drinks, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Sally could see the wheels turning in their minds, trying to figure out how to approach this conversation. “It’s just...” Sally continued, her voice a little more hesitant now. “I’ve been picking up on things. Like, last week at the café when you both ‘accidentally’ ordered the same drink, and then spent the whole time sharing it. Or how you’ve been spending a lot more time at each other’s places. And the way you two are always finding excuses to be close to each other... I mean, I’m not blind.” Katrina finally looked up, her eyes meeting Sally’s with a mix of surprise and something else—relief, maybe. “Sally, it’s not that we’ve been hiding it from you. It’s just... we didn’t know how to tell you.” Clara nodded, her voice soft as she spoke. “We’ve been... figuring things out ourselves. We didn’t want to make it weird or make you feel left out. But yeah, you’re right. There is something more between us.” Sally’s eyes widened slightly as she leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “You mean, like sleeping together?” she asked, wide-eyed, wanting to be sure she understood. Clara blushed slightly but didn’t shy away from the truth. “That, and... everything else,” she said, her voice steady, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders by finally saying it out loud. Sally couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I’m so happy for you guys. Really, I am. I was just worried you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about it. But you don’t have to hide anything from me. You two are amazing together, and I’m just glad you’re both happy.” Katrina reached across the table and took Sally’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or left out. You mean so much to us, Sally. We were just... scared of how to bring it up.” Clara nodded in agreement. “But we should have known you’d be cool with it. You’re the best friend we could ask for.” Sally felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, smiling brightly at them both. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. And just so you know, I’m always here for you—both of you. I’m proud of you for being honest, and I’m so glad you’ve found each other.” As Sally, Katrina, and Clara continued their conversation at the café, the atmosphere became increasingly intimate, the air thick with the unspoken truths they were beginning to uncover. After admitting their relationship, Katrina and Clara seemed more relaxed, though there was still a sense of anticipation between them. Sally could feel it, too—a mixture of curiosity and a desire to understand her friends on a deeper level. Sally, always one to be direct when it mattered most, felt a surge of curiosity rise within her. This was her chance to ask the question that had been on her mind since they first started talking about their relationship. She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before her curiosity got the better of her. “Can I ask you something?” Sally began, her voice quieter now, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she should say what was on her mind. “Of course,” Katrina said, smiling gently. “You can ask us anything.” Sally took a deep breath, then blurted out the question that had been burning in her thoughts. “How is it? I mean, what’s it like to sleep together and... do everything else?” Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Sally felt her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and boldness. It wasn’t a question she had ever imagined herself asking, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t take it back. Katrina and Clara exchanged a look—one filled with a mixture of surprise, amusement, and a shared understanding. They had clearly not expected Sally to be so frank, but they didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, they seemed to appreciate her curiosity and openness. Clara was the first to speak, her voice soft but candid. “It’s... well, it’s incredible, really. Being with someone you care about so deeply, someone who understands you in ways you didn’t think anyone could—it makes everything feel so much more intense and special.” Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for humor, grinned playfully and nudged Clara gently with her elbow. “Of course, let’s not forget the critical ingredient to all that understanding and specialness—el cuerpazo,” she teased, using the Spanish word for ‘gorgeous body,’ which she knew would make Clara blush. Clara rolled her eyes with a smile, but Katrina wasn’t done. “Seriously, have you seen this woman’s body? ¡Espectacular! When you’ve got a cuerpo like that, it’s like an instant upgrade to everything—feelings, understanding, and all that deep emotional connection stuff. And trust me, it’s pretty hard to misunderstand someone when they look that good!” She winked at Sally, who couldn’t help but laugh. Katrina continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You know, todo se pone más intenso, you’re with someone who’s not only amazing on the inside but also, well, let’s just say, very easy on the eyes. I mean, who wouldn’t feel special when you’re getting those deep talks and al mismo tiempo”—she leaned in as if sharing a secret—“you’re also thinking, ‘Wow, how did I get so lucky?’” Sally chuckled, watching the two with amusement, but then Katrina’s grin turned mischievous as she added, “Honestly, Clara’s body is like a work of art, but let’s not forget, Sally, the allure of seeing you in those thick diapers. There’s something about it—like a forbidden charm, ¿sabes?” she teased, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief. Sally’s eyes widened in surprise, and her face turned a bright shade of red. “Katrina!” she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “You did not just say that!” Katrina laughed, clearly enjoying the reaction she got. “Oh, I totally did. I mean, come on, Sally, you’ve got that innocent, cute look down, and with those diapers, it’s like you’ve got your own little charm going on. You’re giving Clara’s cuerpo a run for its money in the ‘special and intense’ department, if you ask me.” Clara burst out laughing, and Sally, despite her embarrassment, couldn’t help but join in. Katrina’s playful teasing had a way of breaking the tension and making even the most personal topics feel light-hearted and fun. “Okay, okay, I get it!” Sally managed between giggles. “You two are impossible.” Katrina winked at her. “What can I say? We’ve all got our unique charms, ¿no? But seriously, Clara’s got the whole package—inside and out—and I’m just lucky enough to enjoy it all.” Clara, though clearly flustered by the compliments, smiled and leaned into Katrina. “You’re impossible, you know that?” “And you love me for it,” Katrina replied with a smirk, planting a quick kiss on Clara’s forehead. Sally, still smiling, shook her head. “You two are something else. But I guess that’s why I love you both so much.” Katrina nodded, “It’s not just about the physical part, though that’s obviously amazing. It’s the connection we feel with each other. When we’re together, it’s like everything else fades away, and it’s just us. There’s this sense of trust, of being completely open with one another. It’s hard to describe, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.” Clara smiled warmly at Katrina before turning back to Sally. “And as for... ‘everything else,’ well, it’s kind of the same thing. It’s all about being vulnerable and open, letting someone in completely. It’s about exploring those feelings together and learning more about each other with every touch, every kiss. It’s beautiful, really.” Sally listened intently, her initial embarrassment fading as she absorbed what her friends were saying. There was something incredibly touching about the way they spoke—so genuine, so filled with love and respect for each other. It was clear that what they had was special, something that went far beyond just the physical aspect. “I’m really happy for you two,” Sally said after a moment, her voice filled with sincerity. “It sounds like what you have is really beautiful.” Katrina smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Sally’s hand. “Thank you, Sally. That means a lot to us. We’ve been so lucky to find this with each other, and we’re glad we can share it with you.” Clara nodded, her eyes shining with affection. “We’re always here for you, Sally. Just like you’re here for us.” Sally felt a swell of emotion in her chest, a deep gratitude for the honesty and love they had shared in this conversation. She had asked a question out of curiosity, but what she had received was a glimpse into the profound connection her friends had found together. It made her feel closer to them, more connected than ever. Without another word, the three of them leaned in for a group hug, holding each other tightly. The embrace was warm and comforting, filled with a sense of love and acceptance that only true friends could share. They were warm from their earlier conversation, their breaths mingling as they hugged, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the bond they shared, a bond that had just grown even stronger. As they pulled back, still smiling at each other, Sally felt a new sense of resolve. She had confronted something important today—not just in her friends, but in herself. She was learning to be strong, to be the person she wanted to be, and that included being there for the people she loved. -- As the three friends jogged together, the afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement. The rhythm of their feet hitting the ground was steady, punctuated by the occasional burst of conversation. They had started the run with easy banter, but now, with their breaths growing heavier, the conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence. Sally felt good—strong and confident in her decision to run without the extra protection of her Goodnite. It was a small step, but an important one. Katrina, who was running just behind Sally, suddenly spoke up, her voice playful despite the panting. “¡Oye, Sally! ¡Tu trasero se ve increíble! Pero, casi extraño ese bultito del pañal al que me había acostumbrado,” she teased, a grin spreading across her face. Sally nearly stumbled at the comment, feeling a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She could feel her cheeks flush, but she quickly laughed it off, appreciating the lightheartedness. Katrina had always been straightforward, and Sally knew there was no malice behind the joke. “¡Katrina!” Sally exclaimed, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “You’re terrible, you know that?” Clara, jogging beside Sally, giggled. “She’s got a point, though. It’s kind of like your signature look.” Sally rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Okay, okay, I get it. But actually... there’s something I wanted to talk to you both about.” Katrina’s playful expression softened as she picked up on the shift in Sally’s tone. “What’s up, Sal?” she asked, her voice more serious now. Sally took a deep breath, trying to find the right words as they continued to jog. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about... you know, the diapers. I’ve been relying on them for comfort, but I think it’s time I start moving away from them. Slowly, but surely.” Clara gave Sally a supportive look, her tone encouraging. “That’s a big step, Sally. But you don’t have to rush it. We’re here for you, whatever you need.” Katrina nodded, her earlier teasing replaced with genuine concern. “Exactly. It’s all about what makes you feel comfortable and secure. If you’re ready to ease off, we’ll support you all the way.” Then, with a playful glint returning to her eyes, she added, “But I’ve got to admit, it’s a bit of a pity. I mean, who’s going to fill the role of our adorable bebecita in diapers now? Seeing you without that cute, crinkly confidence is going to take some getting used to. ¡Ay, caramba! You’ve set the bar pretty high in the ‘adorably unique’ department, Sally.” She winked at her, the corners of her mouth curling into a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the banter. “I guess we’ll just have to find new ways to tease you, ¿verdad?” Sally felt a warmth in her chest at their words, a mix of gratitude and determination. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that. I just... I don’t want to be dependent on them forever, you know? I want to be strong, for myself and for you two.” Clara smiled, reaching out to give Sally’s arm a gentle squeeze as they ran. “You already are strong, Sally. And taking this step is proof of that.” Katrina grinned, adding a bit of her usual humor back into the conversation. “But just so you know, even without the diaper bulge, your bottom still looks fantastic.” Sally laughed, the tension easing as they returned to their usual banter. “Well, I’m glad I have your approval,” she joked, feeling lighter than she had in a while. As they continued their run, the conversation flowed more easily, with Sally feeling a newfound sense of freedom. She had opened up about something deeply personal, and her friends had responded with nothing but love and support. It made her feel more confident in her decision to start weaning herself off the diapers, knowing that she had a solid support system in Katrina and Clara. -- After parting ways with Katrina and Clara, Sally went home feeling a satisfying blend of exhaustion and contentment. The day had been filled with meaningful conversations and personal milestones, and now all she wanted was to relax and unwind. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the rigorous jog, reminding her of the strength she had found both physically and emotionally today. As she stepped through the front door, the comforting familiarity of home enveloped her. The house was quiet, with her mother Bridget likely engrossed in a book or enjoying some evening television upstairs. Sally kicked off her running shoes and headed straight for the bathroom, eager to soothe her tired body with a hot shower. Entering the bathroom, Sally flicked on the soft overhead light, casting a warm glow across the tiled space. She turned on the shower faucet, adjusting it until a steady stream of hot water cascaded down, filling the room with swirling tendrils of steam that began to fog up the mirror. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hazy reflection—cheeks flushed from the run, hair slightly disheveled, and eyes shining with the day's triumphs. A small smile played on her lips as she peeled off her damp clothes, feeling the cool air brush against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that was quickly building in the room. Stepping into the shower, Sally let out a soft sigh as the hot water poured over her, instantly relaxing the taut muscles in her shoulders and back. She tilted her head back, allowing the water to cascade through her hair, soaking every strand and washing away the sweat and tension of the day. Reaching for her favorite lavender-scented body wash, she lathered it between her hands, the fragrant aroma mingling with the steam and creating a soothing, spa-like atmosphere. As she massaged the silky suds over her arms and legs, she could feel the knots in her muscles slowly unwinding, the warmth penetrating deep into her body and bringing a profound sense of relaxation. She took her time, savoring each moment as she worked the lather across her skin, the gentle pressure of her hands combined with the steady stream of water creating a calming, almost meditative rhythm. The steam enveloped her, cocooning her in a world of warmth and tranquility where the stresses and worries of life seemed to melt away. Sally poured a dollop of shampoo into her palm, working it into her scalp with slow, deliberate motions. The scent of fresh citrus filled the air, invigorating her senses even as her body relaxed further. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of her fingers massaging her scalp, the foamy bubbles trailing down her neck and shoulders before being swept away by the water. As she rinsed the shampoo from her hair, Sally could feel the weight of the day washing away with it, leaving her feeling refreshed and renewed. She stood under the steady stream for a few more moments, simply enjoying the embrace of the hot water as it cascaded over her, droplets dancing across her skin before disappearing down the drain. Finally, feeling thoroughly relaxed and cleansed, she turned off the water, the sudden quiet amplifying the serene atmosphere that had settled around her. Reaching for a plush, oversized towel, she wrapped it around herself, reveling in the soft, comforting fabric as it absorbed the lingering moisture from her skin. She stepped out of the shower, the cool tile beneath her feet grounding her as she began to dry off, gently patting her skin and wrapping her hair up in a smaller towel. The mirror was completely fogged over now, hiding her reflection and adding to the sense of peaceful isolation that the shower had created. As Sally walked into her bedroom, still enveloped in the warmth and comfort from her shower, she felt a familiar yet complex emotion stirring within her. The relaxation had opened up space in her mind for deeper feelings to surface, and she became acutely aware of a strong, almost magnetic pull towards the comfort and security that her diapers provided. She sat down on the edge of her neatly made bed, the soft duvet inviting beneath her. Droplets of water still clung to her skin, cooling slowly in the evening air, but inside she felt a growing warmth—a longing for the soothing embrace that only her diapers seemed to offer. Sally sighed softly, her mind drifting back over the events of the day. She had made significant strides towards independence, choosing to go without her Goodnite during the jog and openly discussing her intentions with her friends. She was proud of herself for taking those steps, for asserting her strength and beginning to reclaim her sense of autonomy. Yet, in this quiet moment alone, she couldn't deny how much she missed the comforting presence of her diaper. The physical sensation—the soft, cushioned feel against her skin, the gentle snugness that seemed to hold her together—brought her a profound sense of peace that was difficult to replicate elsewhere. "Maybe it's okay to take it slow," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper in the serene stillness of her room. "Progress doesn't have to mean giving up what makes me feel safe and comfortable all at once." She pondered this thought, realizing that embracing her need for comfort didn't negate the strides she was making towards independence. It was all part of her journey—understanding and accepting all parts of herself, including the ones that craved this unique form of solace. Making up her mind, Sally stood up and walked over to her dresser, opening the drawer where she kept her supplies. She pulled out a fresh, neatly folded diaper, its soft pastel colors and delicate design bringing a small, contented smile to her face. As she carefully laid it out on the bed, she felt a wave of anticipation mixed with relief wash over her. This was her choice, made on her terms, and that made all the difference. She was not regressing but rather honoring her needs in this moment, understanding that self-care took many forms. Sally applied a light layer of soothing lotion to her skin, the subtle scent adding another layer of comfort to the experience. She then positioned herself over the diaper, slowly fastening it securely around her waist. The familiar sensation enveloped her, bringing an immediate sense of calm and contentment that settled deep within her. She stood up, adjusting it slightly to ensure a perfect fit, and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Wrapped in the soft embrace of her diaper, her hair still damp and skin glowing from the shower, she saw not a person struggling with dependence, but someone embracing self-love and understanding. Clad in an oversized, cozy t-shirt that fell just over the top of her diaper, Sally felt completely at ease. She padded over to her bed and climbed under the covers, propping herself up with a pile of fluffy pillows. Reaching for her favorite book on the nightstand, she settled in for a peaceful evening, the stresses of the day now a distant memory. As she began to read, the soft rustle of the diaper with each small movement served as a comforting reminder of the security she had granted herself. Sally knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges and opportunities for growth, but for now, she allowed herself to fully enjoy this moment of tranquility. She realized that moving forward didn't mean abandoning the things that brought her comfort; it meant integrating them into her life in a healthy and balanced way. Acknowledging and accepting her needs was a strength in itself, a sign of the self-awareness and compassion she was cultivating on this journey. As the evening wore on and her eyes grew heavy, Sally closed her book and switched off the bedside lamp, the room falling into a peaceful darkness. Snuggled beneath the warm blankets, cocooned in comfort and serenity, she drifted off to sleep with a contented smile, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring. As Sally settled into the comfort of her bed, propped up by a pile of fluffy pillows with her favorite book in hand, she heard a soft knock on the door. A moment later, her mother, Bridget, walked into the room with a warm smile on her face. “How’s my girl doing?” Bridget asked, her eyes softening as she took in the sight of Sally, cozy in her oversized t-shirt, the subtle outline of her diaper just visible beneath the fabric. Sally returned the smile, feeling a sense of peace. “I’m good, Mom. Really good. I had a great day with Katrina and Clara. We did some shopping, had a long talk, and even went jogging together.” Bridget raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Jogging? That’s wonderful, Sally! How did that go?” “It was great,” Sally said, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “We talked about a lot of things—like how I’m thinking of starting to ease off on my diapers. I want to feel more independent, you know? But they were so supportive, and... well, I also found out that Katrina and Clara are more than just friends. They’re, um, really special to each other.” Bridget’s smile widened with understanding. “Ah, so the ‘special friendship’ was finally revealed, huh? I’m glad you had such an open and supportive conversation with them. They sound like wonderful friends.” “They really are,” Sally agreed, feeling the warmth of her mother’s acceptance. “I just feel like it’s time for me to start moving forward, little by little. Maybe I don’t need to rely on diapers as much anymore.” Bridget nodded, her expression both proud and understanding. “I think that’s a great idea, Sally. But remember, there’s no rush. You’ve been doing so well, and I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made. It’s all about taking things at your own pace.” Sally looked down for a moment, then back up at her mother, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks, Mom. I’m lucky to have you.” Bridget walked over to the bed, leaning down to give Sally a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You’ve always been strong, Sally. And you’ll keep getting stronger, I have no doubt about that.” Then, with a twinkle in her eye, Bridget added, “So, are you thinking of starting this whole ‘gearing down’ thing right now, or were you planning to enjoy one last cozy night?” She glanced meaningfully at the snug diaper peeking out from under Sally’s t-shirt. Sally laughed softly, feeling the lightness in the air. “Maybe I’ll start tomorrow,” she admitted with a smile. “Tonight, I think I’ll just enjoy being cozy and comfortable.” Bridget chuckled, giving her daughter a loving look. “That sounds like a perfect plan. You deserve to be comfortable. And whenever you’re ready to take the next step, I’ll be right here cheering you on.” Sally beamed at her mother, feeling the deep bond between them. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.” With one last affectionate glance, Bridget turned to leave the room, but not before turning back and saying, “Sweet dreams, Sally. And remember, you’re doing just fine—diaper or no diaper.” As the door closed softly behind her mother, Sally settled back into the comforting warmth of her bed. The soft rustle of her diaper accompanied her every small movement, a sound that had become oddly reassuring over time. She opened her book, intending to lose herself in its pages, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the day's events, the conversations, and the feelings they had stirred within her. She felt proud of herself for deciding to start easing off her dependency on diapers, but in this quiet moment, she also couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed the sense of security they provided. The thick, padded embrace was like a gentle hug that made her feel safe, protected, and—dare she admit it?—comforted in a way that was hard to let go of. As she shifted slightly under the covers, Sally felt a familiar pressure in her bladder, a reminder that she hadn’t used the bathroom before climbing into bed. She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts swirling between the commitment she had made to herself and the immediate comfort of the present moment. A small smile played on her lips as she decided, just this once, to allow herself this simple pleasure. After all, she reasoned, change didn’t have to happen all at once. And right now, the warmth and security she felt in her thick, snug diaper was something she wasn’t quite ready to give up. Taking a deep breath, Sally gingerly opened her legs beneath the covers, feeling the soft material shift against her skin. She relaxed into the moment, letting go of any lingering hesitation. Slowly, she allowed herself to release, feeling the warm, soothing sensation as she voided her bladder into the diaper. The soft, comforting warmth spread through the thick padding, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety and contentment. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the pillows and the comforting embrace of her diaper. The experience was a strange mix of emotions—relief, satisfaction, and a deep sense of peace. In that moment, all the worries and stresses of the day seemed to melt away, leaving her with nothing but the simple, quiet pleasure of being exactly where she wanted to be. Sally knew that tomorrow she would continue on her journey towards independence, but tonight, she allowed herself this small indulgence. She smiled to herself, feeling completely at ease as she drifted closer to sleep, the soft rustling of her diaper and the lingering warmth serving as a gentle reminder that it was okay to take things one step at a time. With her book forgotten beside her, Sally snuggled deeper under the covers, her breathing slowing as she finally surrendered to the tranquility of the night. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was a simple one—she was safe, she was loved, and she was exactly where she needed to be.
FlyingFox Posted February 4 Author Posted February 4 Chapters 24-76 Chapter 24 - Growing... Sally jolted awake, heart pounding in her chest. For a brief, disorienting moment, she thought she had wet herself. Her hand instinctively shot under the covers, feeling the coolness of the sheets, ready to brace for the dampness she’d grown accustomed to over the past weeks. But, to her surprise, everything was dry. Her hand found only the soft fabric of her panties, and relief flooded her, though it quickly turned into a strange mix of emotions she couldn’t quite pin down. Sally sighed deeply, sinking back into her pillow. She had been so close—too close. It was almost automatic by now, the way her body would relax during the night, letting go without a second thought. She could still vividly recall the feeling of security those thick, cushioned diapers had given her. She had grown to love the snugness of them, how they hugged her tightly, especially at night. The crinkle of the plastic as she moved beneath the covers, the slight weight between her legs that comforted her in ways she never fully understood but always welcomed. And then, there was the sensation of wetting them—how easy it had been, how safe. She could lie there, half-asleep, feeling the warmth spread through the thick padding as she let go, knowing that nothing bad would happen. No mess. No embarrassment. Just warmth and comfort, wrapped around her like a protective cocoon. Part of her missed it. She missed how easy it had been to not think, to just allow herself to relax. And now, without them, she felt strangely vulnerable. The panties she had insisted on wearing felt flimsy in comparison—thin, unreliable. What if tonight she hadn’t woken up in time? The question gnawed at her. For a moment, she regretted her decision to give up the diapers. She could still be wrapped in that comforting safety, without the stress of wondering if she was going to make it through the night dry. But Sally clenched her jaw and threw the covers back. No. She was fourteen now, and it was time to grow up. She had made the decision to wean off diapers, and she was determined to stick to it. This was a new step, one she had to take if she ever wanted to feel like she wasn’t the baby in the room. She wasn’t going to let herself fall back into old habits. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Dragging herself out of bed, Sally shuffled to the bathroom. She didn’t even need to go, but she forced herself to sit down on the toilet anyway, feeling the cold seat beneath her thighs. The irony wasn’t lost on her—she was trying to wean herself off diapers, and yet here she was, practically forcing herself to go, just to feel more in control. She sighed again, annoyed at herself for even feeling the need to prove something to herself in this small moment. She flushed, stood up, and washed her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t feel any more grown-up than she had yesterday. Grabbing her toothbrush, she scrubbed at her teeth with a little too much force, still caught between frustration and the lingering warmth of her memories. She shook her head, pushing it all away. When she finished, she wandered out of the bathroom, padding down the hallway toward the kitchen in just her panties and regular-sized T-shirt, not even thinking about it. Her panties, pale pink with a simple bow at the waistband, were on full display—a sign of her vulnerability, though she didn’t quite realize it as she descended the stairs. As she reached the kitchen, the smell of breakfast greeted her—pancakes, syrup, and bacon sizzling away. Her mom, already at the stove, was humming softly to herself, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. "Morning, sweetie," her mom greeted her warmly, glancing over her shoulder. "How’d you sleep?" Sally grunted, shuffling to the table and plopping down. Her mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her right away. She simply turned back to the stove, finishing the pancakes before walking over with a plate and setting it down in front of Sally. "That good, huh?" her mom teased lightly, sitting down across from her with a mug of coffee. Sally just shrugged and reached for the syrup. She didn’t feel like talking. At least, not about how she had woken up in a panic, convinced she had wet herself. Her mom sipped her coffee, her eyes watching Sally over the rim of the mug, clearly gauging her mood. "You’re still dry, aren’t you?" she asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the subtle tension in her voice. Sally tensed, suddenly aware that she was sitting there in just her panties and a regular T-shirt, with nothing to cover her legs. She looked down at her lap, where her bare thighs met the edge of the chair, and nodded. "Yeah. Dry." Her mom smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "That’s great, honey." There was a pause, the air thick with unspoken words. "You know, if you ever want to take a break from… this whole thing, it’s okay. You don’t have to rush." Sally’s jaw tightened. "I don’t need a break, Mom. I’m not a little kid anymore." She stabbed her fork into the stack of pancakes a little harder than necessary. Her mom’s face softened, and she reached across the table to touch Sally’s hand. "I know, sweetie. But it’s a big change. You’ve been used to... a certain routine for a few weeks. It seemed to be working well. There’s no harm in taking it slow." "I don’t want to take it slow," Sally snapped, immediately regretting the sharpness in her tone. Her mom pulled back, her hand retreating. "I’m sorry," Sally muttered, pushing her plate away. "I just... I don’t want to go back." Her mom smiled gently. "I understand. But it's okay to feel a little... conflicted." Sally crossed her arms, feeling moody and irritable. "I’m fine, Mom. I just need time." Her mother sighed, giving Sally the space she needed, though Sally could feel the concern in her gaze. "Well, whatever happens, I’m here, okay?" Sally nodded but didn’t respond, the weight of the morning still hanging over her. She had made the choice, and despite the lingering doubts, despite how easy it would be to fall back into old habits, she was going to stick to it. Even if it meant mornings like this, full of uncertainty and mixed emotions. As her mom watched her quietly, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. No matter how grown-up Sally wanted to be, there was something undeniably cute about the way she looked sitting there in just her T-shirt and panties, determined but still so vulnerable. -- In the bright, sunlit classroom of their elite private school, Sally sat with her two best friends, Katrina and Clara. The room was quiet, except for the faint sound of chalk on the board as Mr. Anderson, their math teacher, drew diagrams and equations. Sally’s fingers idly tapped her notebook, excited for today’s math lesson. Math was her escape—a place where numbers and logic made sense, unlike the mess of emotions she often felt outside the classroom. Katrina, who sat to Sally's right, was bouncing her knee under the desk, as usual. When Katrina got excited, she couldn’t sit still. She leaned over to Clara, who sat on her left, whispering in Spanish, “¡Esto es demasiado aburrido!” Clara, ever the calm and collected one, gently nudged her with a slight smirk, signaling her to quiet down as Mr. Anderson turned back to the class. "All right, everyone," Mr. Anderson began, adjusting his glasses as he addressed the class. "Today, we're going to talk about how the math you’re learning now applies to real-world economics—personal finance, national economy, banking, and everything in between. You may not realize it, but understanding basic math concepts like percentages, fractions, and equations is crucial when it comes to managing money. Let's start with a simple example: saving versus spending." Katrina raised her hand without hesitation. "Saving is for boring people who don’t know how to have fun." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she grinned at Clara and Sally. Mr. Anderson chuckled, clearly used to Katrina’s wild comments. "Saving may seem boring, but it’s also what allows people to have the freedom to enjoy life later on. You can spend now and enjoy yourself in the moment, but if you don’t plan for the future, you might run into trouble when you need money for important things later." Clara, always the voice of reason, spoke up, her tone measured. "Isn't it about balance? If you spend too much, you won’t have enough for emergencies or opportunities that might come later, but if you save too much, you miss out on enjoying life in the present." "Exactly!" Mr. Anderson beamed at her, clearly pleased. "It's about balancing short-term gratification with long-term security. That’s why people use math, especially percentages, to manage their budgets and allocate how much to save and spend." Sally, always inquisitive and eager to understand things on a deeper level, raised her hand next. "But how do banks fit into all of this? Like, they don’t just keep your money in a vault somewhere, right? How do savings accounts actually work?" Mr. Anderson nodded, knowing Sally was always the one to dig into the details. "Great question, Sally. Banks don’t just keep your money sitting in a vault collecting dust. When you deposit money into a savings account, the bank actually lends it out to other people or businesses. They charge interest on those loans, and they pay you a small portion of that interest to encourage you to keep your money in the bank. In return, the bank gets to use your money to fund other people's mortgages, business loans, or even the national economy." Katrina, who had been half-listening, suddenly perked up. "So, wait. My money is out there, like, funding someone’s yacht?" "Not exactly a yacht," Clara muttered under her breath, causing Sally to stifle a laugh. Mr. Anderson smiled. "Well, in a way, yes. If someone takes out a loan to buy a boat, and your money is part of the pool the bank lends from, then technically, yes, you’re helping them fund that boat. But more commonly, your money is helping families buy homes, businesses expand, or even supporting students through college loans." Katrina grinned widely. "¡Guau! I'm funding people’s dreams. Maybe I should start asking for a cut!" Her playful tone made a few students nearby giggle. Mr. Anderson raised a brow. "That’s what interest is for, Katrina. The bank gives you a portion of the profits in the form of interest. But the bank keeps most of the profit because they’re taking the risk of lending out your money. The key is that it’s safe for you because your money is guaranteed—up to a certain limit, at least." Sally, always thinking ahead, asked, "But what happens if a bank runs out of money? Like, in a crisis?" "Good question again," Mr. Anderson replied. "Banks are required to keep a certain amount of money on hand, called reserves. And, in most countries, banks are insured by the government, which means that even if a bank fails, your deposits are protected up to a certain amount. But when a lot of people try to take their money out of the bank all at once—like in a panic during a financial crisis—that’s when things get tricky." Clara, always grounded in reality, added thoughtfully, "That’s why having a personal savings strategy is important. You can’t always rely on institutions to protect your money in every situation." Katrina groaned dramatically. "Okay, but this sounds like a lot of responsibility. What about us lucky ones with trust funds?" She winked at Sally, making her friend smirk. Katrina's parents were wealthy, and she never missed an opportunity to joke about her privileged upbringing. Mr. Anderson nodded, always encouraging the class to reflect on different experiences. "Trust funds are an interesting part of the conversation. For those who are lucky enough to have one, they provide long-term financial security, but even with a trust fund, managing that wealth responsibly is key. If you don't understand how to budget, save, and invest, even a large sum can disappear faster than you'd expect." Katrina leaned back in her chair, her fingers twirling her hair. "I guess I’ll have to pay more attention, huh? Can’t live off mom and dad forever." She smirked, but there was a hint of truth in her words. Sally smiled. "Yeah, Kat. You might actually need to understand compound interest one day." She teased her friend, nudging her lightly. Clara, ever the level-headed one, looked between them and added, "I’m just glad we’re learning this now. My parents always talk about how they wish they’d learned more about finance in school. They’ve told me it’s not about how much you have, but how you use what you have wisely." Mr. Anderson gestured to Clara with a nod of approval. "That’s exactly it, Clara. Whether you have a little or a lot, understanding how to manage your money is critical. The math we’re learning now—percentages, interest rates, and even basic algebra—these are the building blocks for financial literacy. If you understand these concepts, you’ll be better prepared to manage a budget, save for the future, and even invest if you choose." Sally felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her as Mr. Anderson turned back to the board, explaining how compound interest worked. She loved this—understanding how things fit together, how the math they were learning wasn’t just abstract but had real-world applications. Katrina, however, leaned toward her again, whispering in Spanish, “¡Esto es mucho! ¿Quién sabía que ser adulto era tan complicado?” Clara raised an eyebrow and replied with a smirk, "You're just realizing this now?" Sally couldn’t help but laugh softly as she scribbled notes in her notebook. The banter between Katrina and Clara was one of the things she loved most about being with them. Despite all their quirks, they made her feel normal—part of something. Mr. Anderson wrapped up the lesson by turning back to the class. "All right, everyone. Remember, math is more than just numbers on a page. It’s a tool—a way to understand the world around you. Whether you’re managing a budget, calculating interest, or planning for the future, these concepts will serve you well. So, even if some of you feel like it’s a lot now, trust me—it’s worth learning." Katrina leaned over again, whispering dramatically to Sally, "I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for recess. My brain is fried." Sally grinned, feeling a sense of comfort amidst the conversation. For a moment, all her worries seemed far away. In this room, with Katrina and Clara by her side, life felt... manageable. Mr. Anderson continued his explanation, transitioning smoothly into a new example. "Let's talk about family earnings and how income affects everything we’ve just discussed—savings, spending, and even investments. Your family’s income largely determines how much flexibility you have with these financial decisions. Whether it's through salaries, investments, or other sources, understanding where money comes from and where it goes is essential." Sally furrowed her brow slightly. She hadn’t really thought about her own family’s finances much. Her life always seemed comfortable. They lived in a nice house, she went to this expensive school, and her mom always appeared confident in managing things. Sally assumed her mother’s job—managing a charity—was just what kept everything running smoothly. Charity work didn’t exactly scream "big income" to her, but they never seemed to want for anything. As Mr. Anderson spoke, Sally found herself growing curious. She realized she had no idea what her family's financial situation really was. Did her mom make a lot of money managing the charity? Or was there something else? It struck her as strange that she’d never thought to ask. Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for a quip, raised her hand. "So, like, if my parents earn a bunch, does that mean I don’t really need to save at all? Just keep spending, and the money will keep coming, right?" Mr. Anderson smiled but shook his head. "Not quite, Katrina. Even if your family earns a lot, financial planning is still necessary. Without budgeting and saving, money can disappear faster than you think. Take professional athletes, for example—many make millions of dollars but end up bankrupt because they didn’t plan for the long term. Family earnings give you opportunities, but smart management ensures those opportunities last." Clara, always the one to ground the conversation in practicality, jumped in. "So even if you have a trust fund or your family is wealthy, it doesn’t mean you can just spend endlessly, right?" "Exactly, Clara," Mr. Anderson nodded. "Even large sums of money need to be managed wisely. Whether a family is living paycheck to paycheck or has millions, math is what helps us make sense of it all. You all have the chance to understand these principles now and be better prepared for when you’re making your own financial decisions." As Mr. Anderson turned to the board, Katrina leaned over to Clara, her eyes glinting with mischief. "So, does that mean I should start planning for our future finances now, querida?" she whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips. Clara, who was always composed, blushed slightly but shot Katrina a playful look. "Only if you’re planning on funding our honeymoon." Sally giggled quietly beside them, shaking her head. The way Katrina and Clara flirted so openly, even in class, never ceased to amuse her. It was one of the many reasons she loved being around them—they always made everything lighter, more fun. Mr. Anderson, who was used to the trio’s dynamic by now, paused mid-explanation and shot a pointed look at Katrina and Clara. "Ladies, while I’m sure your future financial plans are very exciting, let’s focus on the present math lesson, shall we?" Katrina gave a dramatic sigh, leaning back in her chair. "Fine, fine. But I’m just saying, math and romance—what a combination." Clara rolled her eyes affectionately and smiled, then quickly brought the conversation back on track. "But what about when the family income isn’t steady? What if it fluctuates? My parents are both freelancers, so their income changes every month. How do you budget for that?" Mr. Anderson nodded, clearly impressed. "That’s an excellent question, Clara. When a family has an irregular income, it's even more important to budget carefully. Families like yours often need to save more during the good months to cover expenses during the slower ones. This is where understanding how to allocate money comes in—something that we can calculate using basic algebra, percentages, and projections." As Mr. Anderson elaborated on budgeting for variable incomes, Sally couldn’t help but return to her own thoughts. Her family seemed to do fine, but she didn’t know the details of how. She remembered her mother always saying she worked for a charity, but that didn’t seem like the kind of job that would allow them to live so comfortably. Had she simply never thought to ask? She made a mental note to talk to her mom about it later—after all, if she was learning to be responsible about money, maybe it was time to understand more about how her own household worked. Katrina interrupted her train of thought once again, nudging Sally playfully. "Hey, if you’re planning to get all serious about finances, maybe you should take over as our money manager. Clara and I can’t be trusted to stay focused, especially if we’re planning future getaways." She winked at Clara, whose cheeks turned slightly pink. "That’s because you spend all your money on concert tickets and snacks," Clara shot back, smirking. "You need me to balance you out." Sally chuckled. "I think managing the two of you would be a full-time job." Mr. Anderson, overhearing once again, gave the trio a knowing look. "Sally, if you ever decide to pursue a career in financial planning, I think you'd have your hands full with those two." The class laughed, and Katrina leaned back in her chair with a grin. "What can I say? I’m a financial nightmare. But at least I’m fun." As the discussion continued, Sally found herself engrossed, not just in the math, but in the broader idea of money and how it shaped lives. The thought of her mom and their comfortable lifestyle stayed in the back of her mind, stirring up a curiosity she hadn’t felt before. How much do I really know about my family’s finances? she wondered. Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson wrapped up the lesson, explaining how percentages and savings could help people prepare for both expected and unexpected financial changes. "Remember," he said, "math isn't just about numbers—it's about understanding the world around you, including how money works. The more you know, the more control you have over your future." As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Sally gathered her things, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion. She was ready to dive into the topic more, both in school and at home. She gave Katrina and Clara a knowing look as they packed up their bags, laughing about something Katrina had whispered in Spanish again. They were her rock, even when the world felt uncertain—and she was glad to have them by her side. But as they headed to their next class, Sally’s thoughts lingered on her mother. Maybe it was time to ask a few questions. She was learning about financial responsibility, after all—and it was time to understand how that applied to her own life. Chapter 25 - In and Out Bridget sat in the comfortable leather chair across from Dr. Thompson, Sally’s therapist. The soft hum of the office’s white noise machine filled the air, creating a calming atmosphere. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting a gentle glow over the room, but Bridget’s thoughts were far from tranquil. She glanced nervously at Dr. Thompson, who was jotting something down in her notepad before looking up with a warm smile. “Thank you for coming in today, Bridget,” Dr. Thompson said, her voice measured and soothing. “I’m so glad we could sit down and discuss Sally’s progress.” Bridget sighed, leaning forward in her chair. “I’m not sure how much progress there’s been lately,” she admitted, her brow furrowing. “She was doing so well with the diapers, and now she’s trying to stop altogether. I’m worried that she’s pushing herself too hard.” Dr. Thompson nodded thoughtfully, her expression calm but attentive. “It’s not uncommon for a teenager like Sally to want to assert more independence, especially when they feel they’re moving past something they associate with childhood.” She crossed her legs, settling into her chair as she continued. “But you’re right to have concerns. I think it’s important that we look at why she’s choosing to stop now and what that says about how she’s feeling.” Bridget’s gaze flickered around the room, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to hold her back, but… I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s rushing things. Wearing diapers, strange as it might seem to some people, was really helping her. She was so much calmer. More in control, even though it might seem like the opposite.” Dr. Thompson smiled gently. “That’s precisely what we expected. When we started this journey with Sally, it was based on Jungian therapeutic principles—using the diapers to create a sense of security, containment, and contentment. It was about infantilizing her and providing a sense of containment, allowing her to release stress and let go of the pressures she felt in her daily life. Jung believed that external symbols, even something as simple as diapers in Sally’s case, could help anchor someone’s inner world. It wasn’t infantilizing in a negative way, but a purposeful regression that gave her the safety and comfort to process her emotions.” Bridget nodded. “I know. She was so positive about it at first. It was almost like it gave her permission to relax, to not be so on edge all the time. She even started wetting the diapers at night without worrying about it, which is something I never thought I’d be happy about,” she added with a rueful smile. “But now, all of a sudden, she’s determined to stop. She says she doesn’t want to go backward. But I’m afraid she’s losing the one thing that was actually helping her.” Dr. Thompson folded her hands in her lap, considering Bridget’s words carefully. “It’s important to remember that Sally’s desire to wean herself off the diapers is a sign that she’s taking control. She’s asserting her independence, which is a healthy part of her development. She’s seeking a balance between her comfort and her sense of maturity. But,” Dr. Thompson added, her tone becoming more measured, “you’re right to be concerned if it feels like she’s going too far, too fast.” Bridget glanced down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. “So, what do we do? How do we help her find that balance?” “Well,” Dr. Thompson began, “first, we need to acknowledge the progress she’s made on her own. Sally’s decision to wear panties and try to manage without the diapers shows she’s actively thinking about how she wants to navigate this phase of her life. It’s important not to discourage that initiative, but at the same time, we need to make sure she’s not pushing herself into discomfort or self-imposed stress by abandoning what’s been working for her.” Bridget nodded slowly. “She’s been so moody lately. I can tell she’s struggling with it, even if she doesn’t say it outright. I don’t want to push her back into wearing diapers if she doesn’t want to, but I also don’t want her to feel lost without that sense of security.” Dr. Thompson leaned back in her chair, her face thoughtful. “I think what we’re seeing is Sally testing the boundaries of her independence. She feels ready to leave the diapers behind, but part of her might not be as prepared as she believes. The best approach might be to talk through it together. I’d like to have a session with you, Sally, and myself so that we can explore her feelings about this shift. It’s important that she knows she’s supported no matter what she decides.” Bridget exhaled a small sigh of relief. “I think that would help. She’s been keeping a lot to herself lately, and I don’t want her to feel like she’s dealing with all of this alone.” Dr. Thompson nodded. “I’ve seen this before in teens with anxiety and stress-related conditions. Sally’s journey has been deeply personal, and as she’s grown more comfortable in the space we created for her, she’s now attempting to redefine that space. We need to ensure she has the tools to navigate it, whether that means continuing with the diapers or finding new ways to manage her stress. What’s most important is that she’s not forced into either extreme.” Bridget’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I trust your judgment, Dr. Thompson. You’ve been so good for her. I never imagined that something like Jungian therapy and this whole diaper strategy would work, but it really has.” “It’s been a unique approach, but it’s allowed Sally to reconnect with parts of herself that she was trying to shut down. Sometimes, therapeutic symbols like the diapers help a person feel contained in a world that feels too overwhelming. Now, we need to help her find new symbols of that containment, new strategies that give her the same sense of security as she moves forward.” Bridget smiled softly. “She’s lucky to have you.” “And I’m lucky to work with her,” Dr. Thompson replied warmly. “Sally’s shown tremendous resilience. We’ll meet tomorrow, the three of us, and have a conversation. I’ll guide the discussion so we can address these concerns in a safe space. We’ll help her explore what’s driving her decision to move away from the diapers, and if she’s ready for that next step or if she still needs their security for a while longer.” Bridget nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.” Dr. Thompson tapped her pen thoughtfully against her notebook for a moment. “Actually, Bridget, I’d like to propose a small test for today, before we meet tomorrow.” Bridget looked up, curious. “A test?” “Yes,” Dr. Thompson said, leaning forward slightly. “When Sally comes home from school today, I want you to insist on diapering her. Not in a confrontational way, but be firm and make it clear that you think she needs it to relax after a long day. She may resist at first, but be persistent. The idea is to see how she reacts when she’s given an opportunity to let go of the responsibility she’s putting on herself. If she eventually gives in, it could be a good release for her—a way for her to decompress without feeling like she’s giving up on her progress.” Bridget bit her lip, thinking it over. “You think she’ll go for it?” “She might,” Dr. Thompson replied with a soft smile. “Sally’s at a crossroads right now. She’s pushing herself to grow up, but part of her still craves that safety and contentment we created with the diapers. If she resists but eventually relents, it will give us more insight into what she’s truly feeling—whether she’s trying to prove something to herself or if she’s genuinely ready to move on. Either way, it’ll be helpful for our conversation tomorrow.” Bridget nodded slowly. “I’ll try it. It makes sense, giving her that chance to relax after school.” “Good,” Dr. Thompson said, standing up as their meeting came to an end. “And remember, this is about giving her space to explore her emotions without judgment. Whether she accepts the comfort or not, it’s important she knows it’s okay to need a break from the pressures she’s putting on herself.” Bridget smiled, feeling a little more confident about the path ahead. “Thank you, Dr. Thompson. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As she left the office, Bridget felt a renewed sense of purpose. This small test could reveal a lot about where Sally was emotionally, and she hoped it would give her daughter the chance to relax and let go—if only for an afternoon. -- As Sally rounded the corner of the school building, she spotted Katrina and Clara standing just outside the gates, leaning against the low brick wall. Her friends were lost in their own world, oblivious to everything around them as they shared a quick, tender kiss. Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Ugh, get a room, would you?" Sally called out, her voice dripping with mock exasperation as she approached them. Katrina pulled away from Clara with a wicked grin, her dark eyes flashing with playful mischief. "Oh, don’t worry. That’s exactly where we’re going." Sally’s cheeks flushed pink as Katrina winked at her. "Katrina!" she groaned, feeling the warmth rise to her face. Clara, ever the more composed one, chuckled softly, her hand slipping back into Katrina’s. "What? We’re teenagers. We’re allowed to have fun," Katrina teased, nudging Sally with her elbow as she shifted her backpack over her shoulder. Sally shook her head, trying to fight the grin on her face. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me regret walking over here." The trio began making their way toward the pickup area, where cars were already starting to pull in for the after-school rush. As they walked, the conversation drifted back to their math class. "I can’t believe how into that financial stuff you were, Sally," Katrina said, raising an eyebrow. "You had, like, a dozen questions. I thought you were gonna start teaching the class yourself." Sally shrugged, still feeling the buzz from the math lesson. "It’s interesting! I mean, math is actually useful for something, you know? I never really thought about how family income and savings work. It got me thinking about my mom's job and how we manage stuff at home." Clara nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it’s not just numbers on a page. It’s how we live. I didn’t realize how much math plays into... everything. Especially managing irregular income, like what my parents deal with. It’s nice to know I can actually use this stuff." Katrina rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ugh, I’m glad you two are into it, but honestly, the only thing I want to do with math is forget about it. My brain was fried halfway through Mr. Anderson’s lecture." She turned to Clara and grinned. "I think I’ll just have you manage our future finances." Clara chuckled softly. "Happy to help. We’d be broke in a week if it were up to you." Katrina laughed, leaning closer to Clara and squeezing her hand. "Good thing I’ve got you to keep me from spending it all on concert tickets and snacks." Sally shook her head, amused by their banter. Just then, a large black Suburban pulled up to the curb, its sleek exterior gleaming in the afternoon sun. Katrina's grin widened as she saw the car, and she waved casually to the woman behind the wheel. "Ah, my bodyguard is here," Katrina said with a smirk, making both Sally and Clara laugh. The driver, a poised woman in a tailored suit and sunglasses, gave them a patient smile. She remained silent but nodded in acknowledgment, clearly used to Katrina's playful banter. "Hey," Katrina greeted casually as she opened the back door of the SUV. "Ready to whisk us away?" The driver smiled slightly, waiting patiently as Katrina and Clara slid into the backseat, still holding hands. Sally lingered by the curb, watching the exchange with a smile. "I guess I’ll catch you guys tomorrow—" Katrina leaned forward in the backseat, interrupting her. "Oh no you don’t, Sally. You’re not taking that sad school bus home. Get in the car. She doesn’t mind, right?" The driver glanced at Sally and gave her a welcoming nod. "Not at all. Hop in, Sally. We’ve got plenty of room." Sally hesitated for a moment, but the thought of avoiding the crowded, noisy bus was too tempting. "Okay, fine," she said with a sigh, walking around to the front passenger side and opening the door. "Thanks." "Anytime," the driver replied as Sally climbed in and buckled her seatbelt. Katrina and Clara settled into the backseat, leaning comfortably against each other as the SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb. Katrina, still holding Clara’s hand, rested her head on Clara’s shoulder, her mischievous energy fading into a soft, contented quiet. As they drove through the winding suburban streets, Sally gazed out the window, lost in thought. The conversation from math class swirled in her mind again—about family earnings, finances, and saving. The more she thought about it, the more questions she had about how things worked at home. Her mother had always made everything seem so effortless, but now Sally was starting to wonder how much she really knew about their financial situation. Katrina’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Hey, Sal," she called from the backseat. "What’re you thinking about? You’ve got that serious math-brain look again." Sally glanced back over her shoulder with a smile. "Just... thinking about home. Math class really got me curious." Katrina made a mockingly serious face, lowering her voice dramatically. "Ah, yes. Serious Sally, calculating all the numbers." Clara smiled softly and squeezed Katrina’s hand. "Hey, it’s good she’s thinking ahead. You could learn something from her." "Yeah, yeah," Katrina said, grinning. "But I’d rather think about fun stuff. Like what we’re doing this weekend." The conversation drifted to weekend plans, and soon enough, the Suburban slowed as they approached Sally’s house. The driver pulled up to the curb and turned to her. "Here we are, Sally." "Thanks again," Sally said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. "Anytime, Sally," the driver replied warmly. As she climbed out of the car, Katrina leaned out the back window. "See you tomorrow, Sal! And don’t think too hard about all that math, okay?" Sally rolled her eyes, grinning. "No promises. See you guys tomorrow." With that, Sally waved as the Suburban pulled away, and she made her way up the driveway to her house, her thoughts once again shifting back to the upcoming evening with her mom. -- Sally stepped through the front door, feeling the tension still hanging in the air from the awkward moments of the morning. Her backpack slipped from her shoulder, landing softly on the floor, and she kicked off her shoes, ready to head straight to her room. But as she turned the corner into the living room, her heart skipped a beat. Her mother, Bridget, was waiting for her—standing near the couch with a soft, thick diaper in her hand. Sally froze. The sight of the diaper brought an immediate rush of emotions. A wave of longing hit her, so intense that it nearly knocked the breath out of her. But just as quickly, her mind resisted. She had been working so hard to stop. She had made the decision to wean herself off the comfort and safety of diapers. Yet here was her mother, offering her that very comfort, as though she’d never tried to give it up in the first place. Bridget’s face was warm, gentle, filled with that maternal love Sally always felt in her bones. She took a small step forward, the diaper still in her hand, and her eyes met Sally’s. "Sweetheart," her mother began softly, "I know you’ve been trying to be strong. To grow up, to move past this." Her voice was kind but firm, as though she understood exactly what Sally was feeling without needing to ask. "But I also know how much you’ve been carrying lately. How much pressure you’ve put on yourself." Sally’s chest tightened. She looked down at the floor, her emotions swirling. "I’m fine, Mom," she muttered, though even as she said it, the words felt hollow. The truth was, she missed it. She missed the security. She missed the simplicity of letting go. Bridget sighed softly, stepping closer. "Sally," she said, her voice tender. "You don’t have to keep up this wall. You don’t have to be so tough all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to need this." Sally bit her lip, trying to hold back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "But I’m supposed to stop," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I don’t want to go backward." Bridget smiled gently, reaching out to touch her daughter’s arm. "You’re not going backward. You’re taking care of yourself. There’s no timeline, no race to be 'grown-up' all at once. And right now, what you need more than anything is to feel safe. To let go, even if just for a little while." Tears welled up in Sally’s eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to admit how badly she wanted the comfort of that diaper, how much she missed the feeling of being wrapped in its soft embrace. Her body ached for it, but her mind kept resisting, like giving in would somehow mean she was failing. "I don’t know, Mom," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I feel like... if I put it on, I’m admitting I can’t do this on my own." Bridget’s eyes softened, and she gently cupped Sally’s face, brushing away the tear that had escaped. "Sweetheart, needing help doesn’t mean you’re not strong. It means you’re human. And right now, you’re trying to handle too much alone. Let me help you. Let me take care of you, just for a little while. You don’t have to do everything on your own." Sally’s heart clenched, and her throat tightened as more tears threatened to spill. The thought of lying down, of feeling the thick, soft padding of the diaper around her, the sense of peace and security it always gave her—it was overwhelming. And the truth was, she didn’t want to keep resisting. She was tired of being strong. She was tired of pretending that she didn’t need this. Bridget pulled her into a gentle hug, holding her close, and that’s when the tears finally came. Sally clung to her mom, her body trembling as she let out the tears she had been holding back for so long. But they weren’t just tears of frustration. They were tears of longing. Tears of relief. Tears of joy that her mom knew what she needed, even when she couldn’t say it out loud. "It’s okay, sweetheart," Bridget whispered, rubbing Sally’s back soothingly. "You’re safe. You’re always safe with me." Sally sniffled, pulling back slightly to meet her mom’s eyes, her tears now drying but her face flushed. "I... I think I want to," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I’m scared. I don’t want you to think I’m... weak." Bridget smiled gently and brushed a strand of hair from Sally’s face. "Oh, honey," she said softly. "You’re anything but weak. Being able to say you need something—that takes strength. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what you need." Sally took a shaky breath, and after a long moment, she nodded. She didn’t need to fight it anymore. She didn’t need to prove anything. She slowly reached for the waistband of her skirt, unzipping it with trembling fingers. The skirt slipped down to the floor, and she stepped out of it, feeling vulnerable but also... relieved. Bridget smiled warmly, her love shining through as she led Sally to the couch. "Lie down, sweetheart," she said gently, unfolding the thick diaper with practiced ease. Sally lay down on the soft cushions, her heart pounding, but there was an unmistakable sense of comfort as her mother slid the diaper under her. The feeling of the soft padding against her skin brought back a flood of memories—nights where she had felt nothing but peace, where the weight of the world seemed to slip away. Bridget worked carefully, lovingly, fastening the tapes with a precision that came from years of practice. "There," she said softly, patting the front of the diaper with a smile. "All snug and cozy." Sally sat up, glancing down at herself in her crisp school blouse and sweater with the school crest, the thick diaper crinkling audibly as she moved. The white, padded bulk beneath her made her feel small and cocooned, but there was something about the way it looked—paired with her neatly tucked blouse and the black Mary-Jane shoes she had forgotten to take off—that made her laugh softly. "Like a weird new school uniform," she muttered with a small laugh, the image of her current outfit almost ridiculous. Her socks, still perfectly pulled up, added to the contrast, making her look like she was in some odd combination of serious student and overgrown toddler. Bridget couldn’t help but laugh too, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she took in the sight. "Maybe we’re onto something," she teased, nudging Sally gently. "The latest trend in school uniforms: crisp blouse, shiny shoes, and a... fluffy diaper to top it all off. What do you think? We’ll start a fashion revolution." Sally laughed, shaking her head. "Pretty sure the school board would have a heart attack if they saw this." Bridget smiled warmly, sitting beside her daughter and brushing her hand over Sally’s hair. "Honestly, sweetheart, it suits you. Not the uniform part, but the way you’re finally relaxing." Her voice was gentle, the love in her eyes unmistakable. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so at ease." Sally shifted slightly, the soft padding around her bottom reminding her just how different this felt from her usual clothes. The crinkling of the diaper with every movement was oddly comforting, and even though she felt a bit silly, she couldn’t deny the sense of safety and warmth wrapping around her. "I don’t know," she said with a small grin, glancing down at herself again. "I kind of feel like a little kid who got dressed halfway and then decided, 'Eh, good enough!'" Bridget chuckled and gave her a playful nudge. "Well, you do look pretty adorable like this. But I’ll let you decide if the diaper stays part of your future outfits." Sally grinned, the tension in her chest easing completely as she let herself fully embrace the moment. There was no judgment, no need to prove anything. Just her mother, her soft, thick diaper, and the relief of knowing she could simply be herself. As Sally stood up, the bulk of the diaper pressing gently against her thighs, she felt an odd sense of pride. Her school blouse tucked neatly into the waistband of the diaper, her black Mary-Jane shoes still on, it was a strange but oddly comforting mix of responsibility and vulnerability. The absurdity of the look was not lost on her, but it made her smile in a way that felt freeing. "Maybe I’ll wear this to class tomorrow," she joked, giving her mom a sly look. "See how well the math teacher handles this look." Bridget grinned back, playing along. "I’m sure Mr. Anderson would be thoroughly impressed by your... creative interpretation of the dress code." Sally giggled, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over her. She padded off to her room, pulling off her sweater, unbuttoning her school blouse and pulling on a soft, loose T-shirt. The diaper stayed on, crinkling softly with every movement, a gentle reminder of the love and care she had received from her mom. She sat down at her desk, pulling out her books and starting her homework, the sense of relief and calm settling over her like a warm blanket. The world outside could wait. For now, she had everything she needed—her mom’s love, the comfort of her diaper, and a little bit of peace. And that was enough. Chapter 26 - Unknown As Sally settled into her desk chair, her soft T-shirt hanging loosely over the padding of her diaper, she felt an undeniable sense of calm wash over her. The snug fit of the diaper against her skin, the gentle crinkle with every small shift in movement—it all felt comforting, familiar, and safe. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to relax fully, both in body and mind. She had missed this feeling—the feeling of being cared for, of not needing to hold everything together all the time. The diaper reminded her that she didn’t always need to be strong or grown-up. Sometimes, it was okay to let go, to let herself be wrapped up in warmth and security. As she opened her math book, ready to dive into her homework, Sally noticed how different she felt. There was no nagging tension in her shoulders, no tightness in her chest from the pressures she usually carried. She felt lighter, more peaceful. The soft bulk of the diaper cradled her gently, reminding her that she was safe, that she could take a break from the responsibilities she’d been struggling with. It wasn’t long before she felt the familiar sensation of needing to use the bathroom. Normally, she would’ve jumped up from her chair, a flash of anxiety urging her to stay in control. But today, she didn’t feel that pressure. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes for a moment, and let herself relax even more. There was no reason to hold on. She was already so comfortable, already so at peace. Slowly, almost without thinking, Sally allowed herself to let go. The warmth spread through the thick padding of her diaper, enveloping her in a soothing sensation that made her sigh in relief. It was gentle, calming, and strangely satisfying—something she hadn’t let herself experience for days. The warmth was like a blanket of comfort, wrapping her up and making her feel even more secure. For a moment, Sally just sat there, enjoying the feeling. The warmth, the softness—it was all so simple, yet so powerful in the way it made her feel at ease. There was no embarrassment, no guilt. Just peace. Sally opened her eyes, her mind wandering as it often did when she had time to herself. Thoughts of Katrina and Clara floated to the surface, making her smile. She could still hear Katrina’s teasing voice from earlier, telling her they were going to "get a room." The comment had made her blush at the time, but now, sitting in her cozy little world, it made her chuckle softly. Were they really going to? she wondered. Her mind played with the idea, but it wasn’t easy to picture. She knew Katrina and Clara were dating—she had known for a while—but imagining what they did when they were alone was like trying to visualize a scene from a movie she “hadn’t seen”. They were so open and free around her, always giggling and teasing each other. In her head, the idea of them "getting a room" didn’t go much further than more of the same—laughter, playful banter, maybe a kiss here and there. But then again... Blue is the Warmest Color. That film had been her first real look into something deeper, something more intense. She hadn’t been supposed to watch it, but one night curiosity had gotten the better of her. It was so different from the lighthearted way Katrina and Clara acted at school. The film had shown a raw, intimate connection between two girls, and it had stayed with her long after she finished watching. The emotions, the passion—it had been beautiful, but also confusing for Sally. She hadn’t fully understood what she was seeing, and it had left her with more questions than answers. Now, as she thought about Katrina and Clara, she tried to relate the two images in her mind: the fun, teasing friends she saw every day and the kind of relationship she had glimpsed in the film. Did her friends share that kind of connection? Did they feel that same intensity? Sally wasn’t sure. The idea made her feel a little awkward, but also... curious. Sally shifted in her chair, the soft crinkle of her diaper grounding her back in the moment. She didn’t really need to know the details of what Katrina and Clara did when they were alone. They were her friends, and that was all that mattered. They were so unapologetically themselves—laughing, teasing, and being completely open about who they were. Sally admired that about them. She admired how they didn’t seem to care what anyone else thought, how they were free to love and express themselves without fear or embarrassment. Still, Sally’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to that film, wondering if Katrina and Clara had moments like that—quiet, intense moments filled with love and passion. Did they ever sit in silence, just holding each other, or was it always light and fun? Sally wasn’t sure, and she realized she didn’t really need to be sure. Everyone’s relationship was different, and however Katrina and Clara connected, it worked for them. Lost in thought, her mind still circling around Katrina and Clara’s admission of “sleeping together and everything else.” It was such a vague phrase, and she found herself dwelling on its meaning. But as she shifted slightly in her chair, the soft crinkle of her diaper reminded her of something else—something that pulled her thoughts in an entirely different direction. The feeling of the diaper against her skin, the comforting bulk, the warmth—it was all so familiar and yet, somehow, intense. It made her feel safe, yes, but there was also something deeper, something more personal about it. She wasn’t sure she could even explain it, but the sensations were powerful in a way she hadn’t expected. When she allowed herself to relax into the diaper, when she let herself feel the warmth spread and the softness hug her, there was a strange sense of surrender, a kind of peace that flooded over her body and mind. It wasn’t just about comfort. It was about letting go completely, releasing all the tension she carried and giving in to that quiet, enveloping calm. Her thoughts drifted back to “Blue is the Warmest Color”, to the intense emotions she had experienced while watching it. She hadn’t fully understood everything she saw in the film, but she remembered how watching those intimate moments had stirred something in her. It was more than just curiosity—it was a physical sensation, like a quiet shiver running through her as she watched the characters connect on such a deep level. It was emotional, yes, but it was also something she could feel in her body, a kind of warmth and intensity that she hadn’t been able to explain at the time. Sally shifted again in her chair, thinking about how similar those feelings were to what she experienced now, sitting here in her diaper. There was something about the way it made her feel—vulnerable, yes, but also free in a strange way. Just as she had felt captivated by the film’s portrayal of love and intimacy, she now felt a sense of connection to herself, to her body, as she let herself sink into the comfort of the diaper. The emotions and sensations were intertwined, and though they were different, there was a thread of similarity between them. Watching that film had left her feeling raw, exposed to emotions she didn’t fully understand. Sitting here now, in the quiet, with the soft crinkle of her diaper grounding her, she felt a different kind of exposure—one that made her feel safe, rather than uncertain. She wondered if Katrina and Clara ever felt that same intensity, that same sense of vulnerability and closeness with each other. Did they experience the same kind of raw connection she had seen in the movie? Did they ever feel that deep, physical comfort that came with letting go completely? Sally wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t help thinking about it as she traced the connection between her own experience and what she had witnessed on screen. The feelings, the emotions—they weren’t so different. Whether it was the warmth of her diaper or the intensity of watching that film, there was a shared sense of surrender, of allowing oneself to feel something fully without holding back. Sally had always been careful, always trying to stay in control, but in moments like this—whether watching a movie or simply sitting quietly in her room—she found herself letting go, even if only for a little while. Before she could reflect any further, her mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking the silence. "Sally! Dinner’s ready!" She stood up slowly, the crinkling of her diaper bringing her back to the present. As she made her way downstairs, she smiled to herself, feeling both at peace and slightly in awe of the emotions she had just explored. Maybe she didn’t fully understand everything yet, but she was beginning to realize that it was okay to simply feel—to allow herself to experience the comfort, the warmth, and the emotions that came with letting go, whether in a diaper or in the quiet contemplation of her thoughts. -- Bridget settled comfortably on the couch, watching Sally flip half-heartedly through the photography book on the Bahamas. She could tell something was on her daughter’s mind, even as she talked about their upcoming vacation. Sally had that distant look, the kind that meant she was thinking deeply about something but didn’t quite know how to bring it up. "So, are you excited for the trip?" Bridget asked, trying to coax her back into the conversation. Sally nodded but didn’t seem particularly focused. "Yeah, I guess. The water’s always nice. I love that beach with the long boardwalk... but..." She trailed off, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of a page, not making eye contact. Bridget leaned in a little, sensing the hesitation. "But something’s on your mind," she finished gently. Sally hesitated, then sighed. "It’s just... something from math class, I guess. We were talking about family income and savings today, and I realized we’ve never really talked about it." She looked up at her mom cautiously. "I mean, how much do you make?" Bridget raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised by the directness of the question, but she knew it was bound to come up sooner or later. "Well, that’s a big topic," she began, giving Sally a warm smile. "But I can explain it." Sally sat up a little, clearly curious but unsure. "I know you work, but... we’ve never really talked about how we pay for everything. The house, vacations, my school—it all seems... a lot." Bridget took a deep breath and nodded. "You’re right. We haven’t talked about it, and that’s mostly because you never really had to worry about it. But now that you’re older, I think it’s good for you to understand. So, here’s the thing." She paused, making sure Sally was following. "Your father takes care of most of our expenses. He bought this house for us, and the red SUV you like so much? He got that for us, too. Well, he bought all the cars we had, actualy". Sally’s eyes widened a little. "He bought the house and the car?" Bridget smiled softly. "Yes, he did. Even though he’s not around much, he’s always made sure we’re well taken care of. That includes your school tuition, our vacations, and anything else we need. He insists on paying for it all." Sally shifted slightly on the couch, processing the information. She had always known her dad was wealthy, but she hadn’t realized just how much he was involved financially in their lives, even from afar. "And what about you?" Sally asked, still trying to piece it all together. "Your job... the charity?" Bridget shook her head gently. "Sweetheart, I don’t make any money from working at the charity. It’s something I do because I love it, and it helps people. But it’s not what supports us financially. Most of what we live on comes from your father." Sally blinked, surprised. "So, we live off of Dad’s money?" she asked, a little more bluntly than she intended. Bridget nodded. "That’s right. But there’s more to it than just your father’s support. Your grandparents—my parents—were also very wealthy. When they passed, they left me a significant inheritance. That’s also helped us stay comfortable." Sally took a deep breath, trying to wrap her head around everything. Her mom’s parents had left them money, and her father, who wasn’t even in the picture most of the time, was paying for nearly everything. It was a lot to take in. Bridget smiled gently, knowing Sally still had questions. "And there’s one more thing," she added. "You have a trust fund, Sally. Your father and your grandparents set it up for you. It’s there for when you’re older, to help you with whatever you want to do—whether it’s college, starting a business, or anything else." Sally frowned, her thoughts immediately jumping to something from her favorite TV show. "Like Logan Huntzberger?" she asked, her brow furrowed, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism. Bridget laughed lightly, recognizing the reference. "Yes, like Logan. But good people also have trust funds, you know," she teased, giving Sally a playful nudge. Sally couldn’t help but smile, though the idea still felt strange to her. "I guess I never thought about it," she said quietly. "I just assumed you were earning the money." Bridget’s smile softened, and she wrapped an arm around Sally’s shoulders. "I know. We’ve never really talked about it because I didn’t want you to feel like money was something you had to think about. But now that you’re older, you deserve to know how things work. You don’t need to worry about any of it, though. You have time to understand everything, and I’ll be here to explain more when you’re ready." Sally nodded, still processing it all. "So, we’re... rich?" she asked hesitantly, the word feeling odd in her mouth. Bridget chuckled softly. "We’re comfortable. And we’re fortunate, yes. But more importantly, we’re taken care of. And when the time comes, you’ll have the resources you need to do whatever you want." As Bridget spoke, Sally felt a strange sense of relief mixed with confusion. It was a lot to take in, but at the same time, it explained so much. She had never worried about money because she had never needed to. Everything had always been there for her. And now, learning about the trust fund and the family wealth, she realized how much had been taken care of behind the scenes. As her mother continued talking, Sally felt herself relax, letting go of the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Unconsciously, she wet her diaper, the warmth spreading through the padding, making her feel even more secure. She barely noticed it happening, her mind too wrapped up in the conversation and the gentle, comforting presence of her mother beside her. Bridget finished explaining, her voice soft and reassuring. "Does that help answer your questions, sweetheart?" Sally nodded slowly, her voice quieter now. "Yeah, it does. I just... I didn’t realize how much was going on that I didn’t know about." Bridget kissed her daughter’s forehead gently. "And that’s okay. You’re learning. There’s no rush to understand everything right now." They sat together in comfortable silence for a moment before the conversation turned back to lighter topics, like their upcoming trip and plans for the summer. Though Sally’s mind was still swirling with thoughts about the family finances, she felt at peace, knowing that her mother had her back and that everything would be explained to her in time. -- As Sally sat on the couch, digesting everything her mother had explained to her, she felt a mixture of emotions—relief, confusion, and a newfound understanding of her life. The conversation about money and their family’s financial situation had lifted a weight she hadn’t even known she was carrying. Yet there was something else, something simpler, that had settled in her mind during it all. The warmth and comfort of the diaper she was wearing had become a constant presence throughout the evening. It felt like a physical manifestation of the care her mother had given her, and in that moment, it represented more than just convenience—it was a symbol of security. A way to let go of the pressure and stress she had been holding onto for weeks. As Bridget stood up to clear the dishes, Sally remained on the couch, quietly turning things over in her mind. She could feel the soft bulk of the diaper around her, snug and comforting, and for the first time, she felt ready to accept what it gave her. The familiar crinkle as she shifted was no longer something she felt embarrassed by—it was reassuring, a reminder that it was okay to seek comfort in ways that worked for her. Finally, as she glanced over at her mom, who smiled at her from the kitchen, Sally made a quiet resolution. I’m going to wear a diaper to bed, she thought to herself, a sense of calm settling over her. But I’m not going to wet it. It was a compromise—a way of allowing herself the comfort and security she craved, without feeling like she was going backward. Sally didn’t want to rely on diapers in the way she had before, but she also didn’t want to push herself too far too fast. Wearing one to bed felt like a small step toward finding that balance. -- That night, after getting ready for bed, Sally slipped into a fresh diaper. The familiar feeling of it wrapping around her gave her a sense of calm, but she reminded herself of her resolution. She didn’t need to wet it. Just wearing it was enough. She was a big girl. As she climbed into bed, the soft padding crinkling beneath her, she felt peaceful. For the first time in days, she was looking forward to a night of restful sleep, knowing that she was in control—not of everything, but of the choices she made for herself. Sally pulled the blankets up to her chin and smiled, her mind clear as she drifted off, feeling safe, comfortable, and, for the first time in a while, completely at ease with who she was. -- Somewhere in the depths of her sleep, Sally was having one of those dreams—odd, disjointed, and yet strangely vivid. She was in school, wandering the familiar hallways in her neatly pressed uniform, her shoes clicking softly on the tile floors. The only problem was, instead of her usual pleated skirt, she was wearing a diaper—bare and fully visible to anyone passing by. She could feel its soft bulk around her waist, the crinkling sound with every step she took echoing louder than usual. She tried to ignore the sensation, but a nagging feeling sat heavy in her chest, like something wasn’t quite right. Students passed her by, whispering and laughing, though none of them seemed to directly acknowledge her appearance. They smiled and waved as though everything was perfectly normal, but Sally’s stomach knotted with anxiety. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like everyone was watching her even if no one said anything outright. As her discomfort grew, her father suddenly appeared beside her, as if he had always been there. Tall and stern, with his slightly furrowed brow and the ever-present hint of a German accent, Adrian Weiss glanced down at her with his usual composed expression. His presence was as steady and nonchalant as ever. "Everything is as it should be," he said calmly, his deep voice matter-of-fact, as though there was nothing strange about her walking around school in a diaper for all to see. "But—" Sally began, her voice small and uncertain, feeling the growing sense of panic rise in her chest. She wanted to protest, to tell him something wasn’t right, but the words wouldn’t come out. She glanced down, realizing that the diaper around her waist was slowly expanding. It swelled, becoming bulkier with each passing moment, making her legs stiffen and her steps shorter. She began to waddle as the diaper grew larger and larger, the crinkling now unbearably loud. She tried to move faster, but the more the diaper expanded, the harder it became to walk. Soon, it was so big that she could barely take a step. Her legs were forced apart, and she was stuck in place, unable to move forward as the students around her finally stopped and stared. Their eyes locked onto her, curious and judgmental, and her heart pounded in her chest as her anxiety spiked. She glanced desperately at her father for reassurance, but he remained unfazed, his expression still calm and detached. "This is normal, Sally. Don’t worry." But she couldn’t help it. She felt frozen, trapped in the oversized diaper, completely exposed in front of everyone. Her cheeks flushed as she looked around at the crowd of staring faces, unable to take another step. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Then, just as the pressure of the situation became unbearable, she woke up. Sally blinked her eyes open, the morning light gently spilling through her curtains. She felt the soft pillow beneath her head and the familiar warmth of her bed, the strange dream already fading from her memory like a wisp of smoke. There were only fragments now—a vague sense of anxiety, the image of her father’s calm face, and the odd sensation of being unable to walk. But as she hugged her pillow close, relief washed over her. She smiled softly to herself, her heart no longer racing, and the tension in her body eased. It had just been a dream, nothing more. Everything was okay now. She shifted slightly beneath the covers, feeling the comforting bulk of her diaper still snug around her waist. With a quick, gentle touch, she realized it was still dry. That made her smile even more, as if it were a small victory, a reassurance that she was still in control—at least for now. Sally let out a soft breath, her mind settling into the calmness of the morning. She glanced at the clock beside her bed, knowing that today would be an important day. In just a few hours, she’d be going with her mom to see Dr. Thompson. But for now, she lingered in the peaceful comfort of her bed, the remnants of her strange dream already drifting away. -- Chapter 27 - Revelations After school, Sally spotted her mother’s red SUV among the sea of cars and couldn’t help but smile slightly. There was something comforting about seeing it, though today it felt like a reminder of what lay ahead. She slid into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack with a thud at her feet, and buckled her seatbelt. Bridget smiled at her warmly, but there was an undercurrent of tension. They both knew today’s destination: Dr. Thompson’s office. As they pulled out of the parking lot, the usual chatter between them was replaced by silence. Sally glanced out the window, her mind spinning as she thought about the session to come. She’d made the decision weeks ago to stop wearing diapers, thinking it was a sign of her growing up. But recently, that decision had felt more like a weight she wasn’t sure she could handle. The drive to Dr. Thompson’s office passed quickly, almost too quickly for Sally’s liking. Before she knew it, they were pulling into the parking lot, and her stomach twisted in nervous anticipation. The familiar comfort of the waiting room wasn’t enough to quell her anxiety as they walked in. After a few minutes, they were called into Dr. Thompson’s cozy office, where the therapist greeted them with her usual calm, composed demeanor. “Hi, Sally. Hi, Bridget,” Dr. Thompson said with a welcoming smile as they settled onto the couch. “It’s good to see you both. How are you feeling today?” Sally hesitated for a moment, playing with the edge of her shirt as she tried to figure out how to sum up everything she was feeling. “I’m... okay,” she said quietly, though it sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. Bridget gave her a soft look, squeezing her daughter’s hand gently. “We’ve been doing alright, I think. But Sally’s had some changes lately.” Sally knew what was coming. She braced herself as Dr. Thompson leaned forward slightly, her expression gentle but probing. “So, Sally,” Dr. Thompson began, “I hear you’ve made some changes regarding your therapy. You’ve decided to stop wearing diapers. Can you tell me about that decision?” Sally squirmed slightly in her seat, glancing at her mom before looking back at Dr. Thompson. “I just... I thought it was time,” she started, her voice uncertain. “I mean, I’m almost 15. I shouldn’t need them anymore, right?” Dr. Thompson nodded slowly, listening intently. “I understand the desire to grow up and move forward. But I want to explore why you felt the need to stop wearing them so suddenly. You were responding well to the therapy before. How have you been feeling since you made the change?” Sally bit her lip, her fingers still nervously twisting the fabric of her shirt. She knew the truth. She hadn’t been feeling great since she’d stopped wearing the diapers, but admitting that felt like admitting she couldn’t handle growing up. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice softer. “I’ve been kind of stressed, I guess. I’m not sleeping well...” Bridget chimed in, her voice full of concern. “She’s definitely seemed more anxious lately.” Sally felt a sudden surge of irritation. Did Mom really have to say that? It felt like her mother was exposing her, laying out her emotions for everyone to see. She shot her mom a quick look, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. It wasn’t that her mom was wrong—Sally had been more anxious—but hearing it said so openly made her bristle. It felt too revealing, like she wasn’t in control of her own story. Bridget noticed the tension but pressed on, her voice soft and careful. “Sally, I noticed yesterday, after school, when I suggested you wear a diaper for the afternoon... you were so tense before, but once I put it on, your anxiety disappeared. You even seemed... calmer.” Sally's face flushed even more. She had hoped her mother wouldn’t bring that up. It was true—when Bridget had spontaneously diapered her after a particularly stressful day at school, her nerves had melted away almost instantly. But hearing her mother say it out loud in front of Dr. Thompson made her feel exposed, like a little kid who needed her mom to take care of her. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on a random spot on the floor. Dr. Thompson, watching the dynamic closely, leaned in with curiosity. “Is that true, Sally? Did you feel calmer after your mom diapered you?” Sally’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to admit it. It felt like giving in, like confirming that she really did need those diapers after all. But deep down, she knew it was the truth. She had felt better—so much better that she had almost forgotten why she had been anxious in the first place. With a reluctant sigh, Sally nodded. “Yeah... I guess,” she muttered, barely looking up. “It did help.” Dr. Thompson’s gentle smile reassured her. “There’s no shame in admitting what helps you, Sally. It sounds like the diapers are giving you a sense of security when you need it most. That’s important, and it’s nothing to feel embarrassed about.” Sally kept her eyes down, still feeling the prick of resentment at her mother for sharing the details, but she couldn’t deny the truth. Wearing the diaper yesterday had helped, and despite her desire to feel like a "big girl," part of her craved that comfort again. Dr. Thompson nodded again, her expression thoughtful. “Sally, it’s perfectly normal to want to move forward and feel like you’re growing up. But growing up doesn’t mean you have to abandon the things that help you feel safe. Diapers were a tool we used to help manage your anxiety and give you that sense of security. Why do you think you felt the need to stop?” Sally frowned, her eyes darting around the room. She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Part of her had just wanted to feel normal, like the other kids at school who didn’t need... this. “I didn’t want to feel different,” she muttered. “Everyone else my age doesn’t need them. I thought if I stopped, it would mean I was... a big girl.” Dr. Thompson smiled softly, understanding the pressure Sally was putting on herself. “I see. But wearing diapers wasn’t about being a little kid, Sally. It was about helping you manage your emotions and anxiety. You’re still growing up, regardless of whether you’re using them or not.” Sally slumped back into the couch, frustrated but knowing deep down that Dr. Thompson had a point. The truth was, since she’d stopped wearing them, everything had felt more difficult. She missed the calm, the security, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m going backward,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Dr. Thompson leaned in slightly, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re not going backward, Sally. You’re taking care of yourself. We need to make sure you have the tools to manage your anxiety and stress, and the diapers were helping with that. It’s not about moving backward—it’s about giving yourself what you need to feel emotionally safe.” Sally sighed, glancing over at her mom, who was looking at her with an encouraging smile. There was a lump in her throat, and she didn’t quite know why. She had thought stopping the diapers was the right thing to do, but now, she wasn’t so sure. Dr. Thompson continued, “What I’m proposing is that we go back to what was working before. I want you to wear diapers every night, just like we did previously. This will help you get the restful sleep you need and give you that emotional release.” Sally’s eyes widened slightly. She opened her mouth to protest, but Dr. Thompson kept speaking gently, leaving little room for argument. “And not just at night. If you’re feeling anxious during the day, I want you to allow your mother to help you. Bridget, you can diaper Sally when she’s feeling particularly stressed. It’s not about dependency; it’s about giving her the security she needs during those difficult moments.” Sally shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But... I’m almost 15,” she muttered, her voice sounding uncertain even to herself. “I don’t need diapers all the time. I’m supposed to be growing up.” Dr. Thompson’s eyes softened, and she smiled. “Sally, being a big girl doesn’t mean you have to stop doing the things that help you feel better. Think of it like wearing glasses. Just because someone wears glasses to help them see doesn’t mean they’re weak or not growing up. They’re just using a tool to make life easier. Diapers are the same—they’re helping you manage your emotions.” Sally blinked, unsure of what to say. Glasses? She hadn’t thought of it like that. Her defenses were crumbling faster than she’d anticipated, and the truth was, the idea of wearing diapers again wasn’t as awful as she’d convinced herself it would be. “And let’s be real,” Dr. Thompson added, with a small, knowing smile, “if glasses suddenly became socially embarrassing, I’m pretty sure people would still wear them, right? I don’t think anyone would go around bumping into walls just to avoid a bit of awkwardness.” Sally chuckled softly, despite herself. The tension in the room lightened a little, and she felt her resolve slipping away. She glanced at her mother again, seeing the warmth in Bridget’s eyes. Bridget chimed in, her tone gentle but supportive. “Sweetheart, this is just about helping you feel safe. You’re doing great, and growing up doesn’t mean you have to do it all at once.” Sally sighed, a mix of resignation and relief washing over her. She knew, deep down, that they were right. And truth be told, part of her—the part she wouldn’t admit out loud—was relieved. There was a strange comfort in knowing she wouldn’t have to keep fighting this battle with herself. Maybe wearing diapers didn’t mean she wasn’t growing up. Maybe it just meant she was taking care of herself. “Okay,” she whispered, nodding slightly. “I’ll wear them... if it helps.” Bridget smiled and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. We’ll take it one day at a time.” Dr. Thompson nodded approvingly. “I think you’ll find that this will help you feel more secure. And remember, it’s okay to need support. There’s no rush to be ‘grown up.’ Growing up is about finding what works for you emotionally, and this is part of that.” Sally sat there quietly, processing everything. She didn’t feel quite so anxious now, and the humor in Dr. Thompson’s analogy had made her realize that maybe she didn’t need to be so hard on herself. Dr. Thompson leaned back with a smile, “Besides, if it turns out I’m wrong about this, you can say ‘I told you so,’ and I’ll take you out for ice cream. Deal?” Sally laughed, feeling the tension finally break. “Deal.” The session wrapped up soon after, and as they walked out to the car, Sally felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She climbed into the passenger seat of the red SUV, settling in as Bridget started the engine. The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t the same tense silence as before. Instead, it was a peaceful kind of quiet. Sally stared out the window, her mind still spinning, but she smiled to herself. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever admit it out loud, but there was a part of her—small but growing—that was glad to be going back to wearing diapers. It was like a secret relief, something comforting she could hold onto in her mind. She even felt a little... excited? Not that she’d say that. Not yet, anyway. As they drove home, Sally hugged the feeling to herself, relishing the quiet comfort it brought. -- As they arrived home, the cool spring air greeted them, a gentle breeze rustling the trees that lined their quiet neighborhood. Bridget said nothing as they entered the house, the unspoken weight of their earlier conversation lingering. She refrained from any further comments, allowing Sally to slip quietly to her room, a small gesture of respect for her daughter’s space. Sally stood for a moment in her room, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling in her chest. She knew that later, she would have to wear a diaper for bed as Dr. Thompson had prescribed, but for now, she was content to slide into something more normal. Digging through her drawers, she pulled out a pair of tight, well-worn jeans that clung to her legs and hips, accentuating the flat, unpadded curve of her buttocks. Paired with a short, slightly snug t-shirt, she felt a sense of comfort—maybe even a little bit of rebellion against what was to come later. For now, everything felt normal. After dinner, they talked about little things—school, the upcoming spring break, the usual day-to-day chatter. The house felt calm, the kind of calm that only comes after a long day when the world outside seems far away. But underneath it, there was a quiet undercurrent of anticipation, the knowledge that the night would end with a routine that Sally was still trying to accept. Later, after the dishes were cleared and the kitchen lights dimmed, Sally wandered down the hallway. The house was quiet now, save for the soft creak of the floor beneath her feet. She paused outside her mother’s room, noticing the door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open gently, she stepped inside, where the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume lingered in the air. Bridget’s bedroom was large, more grand than Sally’s, and positioned to take full advantage of the night’s soft glow. The corner windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a sweeping view of the trees outside, their branches swaying in the gentle spring breeze. Beyond the treetops, the half-moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the room. The room itself was warm and inviting, with soft cream-colored walls, a plush, oversized bed draped in a thick duvet, and elegant lamps on either side of the headboard. It felt luxurious but lived-in, a perfect blend of comfort and style. Sally padded quietly across the room, making her way to the foot of the bed, where she sat cross-legged on the soft duvet, her jeans creasing as she settled in. From where she sat, she could see her mother sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. The soft glow of the lamp on the vanity table bathed Bridget in a warm light, making the whole scene feel peaceful, almost timeless. Sally watched her mother for a moment, her gaze softening as she took in the familiar ritual. There was something calming about watching Bridget in this moment of quiet self-care. It felt like a small anchor, a glimpse of stability in a world that sometimes felt uncertain. Bridget, noticing her daughter’s presence in the reflection of the mirror, paused her brushing and turned slightly to look at her. Her eyes traveled over Sally, lingering for a moment on her tight jeans and the way they emphasized her unpadded form. There was a moment of quiet as Bridget took in the sight of her daughter, growing up far too quickly for her liking. Sally, sitting on the bed with her bare feet tucked underneath her, looked so at ease, so sure of herself in those jeans and that snug t-shirt. There was no padding beneath her, no security of a diaper, and in this small detail, Bridget felt a mixture of pride and melancholy. Sally was becoming more independent, more comfortable in her own skin, but that also meant she was slipping further from the little girl Bridget had always been able to protect. The thought made Bridget’s heart ache just a little. She knew that Sally’s growing up was inevitable, but seeing it unfold in such small, everyday moments made it all the more real. “You look comfortable,” Bridget said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a hint of warmth, a mother’s fondness for the young woman her daughter was becoming. Sally gave a small smile, shrugging lightly. “Yeah, just... trying to relax before bed.” Bridget’s eyes softened further as she turned to face her daughter fully. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “You’ve had a long day.” Sally didn’t reply immediately, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she glanced out the window. The half-moon hung low, its silvery light casting faint shadows across the room, and the breeze stirred the branches outside. There was something peaceful about this moment, about being in her mother’s room, where everything seemed just a little bit more serene. Bridget watched her daughter closely, her gaze lingering on the curve of Sally’s back, the way the jeans hugged her legs, how she seemed so grown up now, even if she still held onto certain comforts. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of fondness wash over her. Sally was finding her way, but Bridget knew that deep down, her daughter still craved the security of being cared for. And that was okay. “I was thinking,” Bridget began, her voice soft but deliberate, “that maybe we could talk a little more before bed. You’ve been handling everything so well, but it’s a lot, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Sally glanced at her mother, feeling a flicker of hesitation. She knew what was coming next. The diapers, the routine. But in this moment, sitting on her mother’s bed with the trees swaying outside and the half-moon glowing softly in the sky, it didn’t feel as bad as she’d thought. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m okay.” Bridget smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I know you are, sweetheart.” “Mom,” Sally began, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Why hasn’t Dad visited? It’s been almost a year. What’s going on?” Bridget, who had been quietly brushing her hair in front of the vanity, froze for a moment. She hadn’t expected Sally to ask about her father so directly, though she knew it had been on her mind. She placed the brush down gently, turning in her chair to face her daughter, who was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed. Sally’s eyes were steady, full of curiosity and a hint of frustration. Bridget sighed softly, knowing this conversation was long overdue. “I know it feels like he’s been gone for a long time,” Bridget said, her voice soft, careful. “Your father’s always had a lot of responsibilities, Sally. His life is... complicated.” Sally didn’t wait for more, her voice sharper now. “Complicated? Mom, he used to visit twice a year, and now nothing. It’s like he disappeared. What could be so complicated?” Bridget paused, gathering her thoughts, knowing she couldn’t dodge the truth anymore. “He has always been involved in a lot of things, things that tie him to Switzerland. His family’s business, their estate, it’s... a different kind of life than what we have here. His father was... very demanding.” Sally raised an eyebrow, still unsatisfied. “But what does that even mean? Why doesn’t he come around more? Did something happen between you two?” Bridget gave a small, wistful smile as she considered how to answer. “No, nothing happened between us. We always cared about each other. But your father’s world... it’s very different from ours. We met in Switzerland, remember? I was there on vacation, just trying to get away for a while. I didn’t expect to meet someone like him.” Sally leaned in slightly, her curiosity piqued. “So, how did you meet? Was it, like, some romantic thing?” Bridget laughed softly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t exactly like that at first. We met through some mutual friends at a gathering. Zurich is a beautiful city, but I didn’t expect to meet anyone special there. Your dad stood out, though. He had this air about him—calm, confident, like nothing could rattle him. And he was, well, charming in his own way.” Sally’s eyes lit up with interest. “Okay, so what happened next?” Bridget’s eyes softened as she continued. “He offered to show me around the country, and I didn’t see why not. It felt spontaneous, and I figured, why not take a chance? The next thing I knew, I was in his Porsche, and we were speeding down the autobahn on our way to Germany.” Sally blinked, surprised. “Wait, he had a Porsche?” Bridget chuckled. “Oh, yes. He still has it, I’m sure. He loved that car. I remember the way it felt flying down the autobahn... no speed limits, just open road and the wind in my hair. We were going so fast, I didn’t even realize how nervous I should have been. But it was thrilling.” Sally grinned, her mind spinning at the image of her parents racing down the German highway. “That sounds... wild.” Bridget smiled back, her eyes distant, remembering. “It was. We drove through the Alps, winding along these roads with sheer drops on either side, the mountains towering above us, snow-capped and beautiful. We visited castles—Schloss Neuschwanstein, one of the most famous, perched on the cliffs like something out of a fairy tale. We crossed rivers, visited these little villages nestled into the valleys. It was like stepping into another world. I had never seen anything like it.” Sally was transfixed, her mind conjuring images of majestic mountains and ancient castles. “That sounds amazing. But... if things were so great, why didn’t it last?” Bridget’s expression shifted, her smile fading just a little. “Your father’s life wasn’t just about us, Sally. It was about his family’s legacy. He’s... wealthy, but it’s not just about the money. It’s about expectations. His father, your grandfather, was very strict about how things should be done. When I met Adrian, he was already balancing a life that was very rigid and controlled. His father wanted him to marry someone from their world, someone who understood the life of the Swiss elite.” Sally blinked, surprised. “You mean, like, they didn’t want him to marry you?” Bridget nodded gently. “It wasn’t that they didn’t like me, exactly. I just didn’t fit into their idea of what Adrian’s future should look like. His father, especially, made it clear that I wasn’t the right ‘fit.’ He disapproved, and when I became pregnant with you, it only complicated things further.” Sally sat up straighter, her brow furrowed. “So, what happened when you found out you were pregnant?” Bridget hesitated, her voice growing softer. “Adrian was supportive. He took responsibility immediately and made sure I was okay. But we both knew that staying together wasn’t going to work. His life... it was too structured, too demanding. And I wasn’t ready to live in that world, where everything was dictated by his father’s expectations.” Sally chewed on her lip, processing the weight of Bridget’s words. “So, that’s why you broke up? Because of his family?” Bridget nodded. “In a way, yes. His father’s influence was huge. And Adrian was loyal to his family, their business, their legacy. It was a life full of responsibilities that I couldn’t be part of, not in the way they needed me to be. It was hard, but we both knew that I couldn’t stay in Switzerland.” Sally was silent for a moment, her mind reeling from the flood of new information. “So... you went on this amazing trip, and then just... that was it?” Bridget sighed, leaning back slightly. “Not quite. We stayed in touch after that. And when I found out about you, we talked a lot. Adrian wanted to make sure we were taken care of, and he has, always. He loves you, Sally. Even if he’s not around all the time, he’s always made sure you’re supported.” Sally frowned slightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Yeah, but... he’s not here. He never stays long, and now he hasn’t visited in almost a year. It’s like he’s some distant figure who just shows up, takes me out to dinner, and then disappears again.” Bridget reached out, resting a hand on Sally’s knee. “I know, sweetheart. And I wish I had a better answer for you. His life is still complicated, more than I even understand sometimes. But it’s not that he doesn’t care. He just... he’s not good at balancing everything. He tries to keep his distance because he thinks it’s easier that way.” Sally’s frustration softened, replaced by a quiet sadness. “I just don’t understand why he can’t be here more.” Bridget’s heart ached at the sight of her daughter’s disappointment. “I know. It’s hard to explain, but he’s dealing with a lot that we don’t see. His father passed away recently, and I think that’s been weighing on him. There’s more to his world than we know.” Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I just... wish he was around more.” Bridget pulled her daughter into a hug, holding her close. “I know, Sally. And I’m sorry it’s like this. But I promise, he loves you. Even if it doesn’t always feel that way.” Sally rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, quiet for a moment. “It’s just... weird, knowing all this now. I didn’t know how complicated everything was.” Bridget smiled softly, stroking Sally’s hair. “You’re learning more about him, and about where you come from. It’s okay to feel confused. But know that no matter what, you’re loved.” As they sat together, the silence of the room returned, but now it felt different—full of the weight of the conversation they had just shared. Sally had learned more about her father than she ever expected, and though there were still unanswered questions, she felt a sense of closeness with her mother she hadn’t before. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over them as they held onto each other in the quiet, both knowing that the conversation had changed things. Chapter 28 - Sweet Returns Later that night, the house had settled into its usual calm. The moonlight filtered gently through Sally’s curtains as she lay in bed, the familiar softness of her blanket tucked around her. She had just finished diapering herself—a task that she once resisted, but now it felt different. She was doing it because she had to, because it was part of the plan, a necessity. And yet, there was something about the act that gave her a small thrill. It was strange, but knowing it was an obligation made it feel less like a burden and more like a ritual. The diaper crinkled softly as she shifted under the covers, and Sally couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort, not just from the familiar padding but from something deeper. The whole evening had been heavy with new revelations—about her father, her mother, and the complicated history that had shaped her life. She felt... connected. Like she had unlocked a part of her past she hadn’t even known she was missing. She closed her eyes, her mind swirling with images of her mother’s stories—the fast drive down the autobahn, the towering Alps, the fairytale castles. It was hard to picture her parents together in that whirlwind romance, but it made her smile to think of it. Her mother, so practical and grounded, swept up in something spontaneous and exciting. And her father, always so distant and controlled when she saw him, now seemed a little more human. A little more real. Sally shifted again, the diaper snug around her as she felt a strange but comforting sense of responsibility. She had done what was required of her—diapering herself before bed—and now, lying there in the dark, she felt a small flicker of pride, even contentment. There was something warm about it, knowing she could take care of herself in this way, and that small thrill of following through on what she was supposed to do lingered. Her thoughts drifted back to her mother, who had opened up more tonight than she ever had before. Sally felt closer to her, like they shared something new, a deeper understanding. It was comforting to know more about where she came from, about the romance that had brought her into the world, even if it hadn’t lasted. And yet, the stories also made her want to know her father better—beyond the occasional visits, beyond the dinners that always felt so formal. She wondered what he was like when he wasn’t playing the role of "the visiting father." As she lay there, listening to the quiet sounds of the night, Sally felt something shift inside her. She wasn’t sure how everything would unfold, but knowing more about her parents—especially her father—made her hopeful. Hopeful that maybe she could understand him better, that maybe he would let her into his world a little more. The thought of it warmed her, even as the cool night air settled around her room. Sally snuggled deeper into her blankets, her body relaxed and content. The soft padding of her diaper, once something she’d resisted, now felt like a small, comforting reminder that she was following her own path, even if it was a little different from what she had imagined. And as her eyes grew heavy, she smiled to herself, knowing that tonight, she had taken a step closer to understanding who she was—and who her parents were. With that warmth in her heart, Sally drifted off to sleep, her mind quiet and peaceful, filled with the hope that there was still more to learn, more to discover about her family, and more to come in the future. -- Sally woke before dawn, the house still wrapped in the thick quiet of early morning. The silence pressed in, the kind that only existed at 4 a.m., when the world seemed to hold its breath. She blinked her eyes open and stared at the ceiling, the faint glow of the half-moon casting long shadows across her room. Despite the calm stillness around her, a familiar restlessness churned in her chest. Sleep wasn’t going to come back—not tonight. She pushed the blanket off her legs and sat up slowly, feeling the cool air brush against her skin. Her t-shirt, a regular one that hung just above the waistband of her diaper, left her exposed, but she didn’t mind. The house was empty, dark, and still. The soft crinkle of her diaper followed her as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feet touching the cold floorboards. As she stood, the quiet crinkling sound reminded her of her condition. She paused, her hand brushing against the front of the diaper, checking. Dry. A small, satisfied smile played at her lips, but the tension she felt in her body still hadn’t faded. Standing there in the dark, listening to the faint sounds of the house creaking around her, she felt a familiar urge rise. She could let go. The tension, the restlessness—it could all be released. With deliberate focus, Sally let go, warmth spreading through her diaper. It was a soft, familiar comfort, the release calming her mind as much as her body. The restlessness ebbed as the wetness soaked into the padding. It felt like a small victory, a moment of control in the stillness of the early morning. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension drain away with it. Sally padded quietly toward her door, the wet diaper crinkling softly with every step. The hallway stretched out before her, the upper floor of the house bathed in darkness except for the faint glow of streetlights filtering in through the tall windows. The house felt expansive at this hour, its high ceilings and wide spaces somehow larger in the stillness. As she reached the bannister, she paused, her hand resting on the smooth wood. Below her, the living room opened up, its large windows letting in slivers of moonlight that outlined the furniture in soft, silver light. Beyond the living room, she could just make out the open-concept kitchen, the dark countertops barely reflecting the light from the street outside. Everything was still. It felt like she was the only person in the world awake, walking through a place frozen in time. Sally continued along the upper floor, her bare feet soundless against the floorboards, the quiet crinkle of her diaper the only sound breaking the silence. She moved with purpose now, her destination clear. The studio. She hadn’t been there in days, but now, in the semi-darkness of the house, it was all she could think about. The unfinished canvas, painted black to match her darker feelings, waited for her, and something inside her was telling her it was time to return. She reached the studio door, her hand hovering over the knob for a moment before she pushed it open. The familiar smell of paint and canvas greeted her, and she stepped inside. The room was dark, but the moonlight streaming through the small window offered just enough light for her to make out the shapes of her supplies—the easel, the jars of paint, and the black canvas looming in the center of the room. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on her large sippy cup sitting on her worktable. It was the one her mother had given her specifically to use in the studio, oversized and almost comical with its baby motifs, but practical enough to hold plenty of water during her long painting sessions. The sight of it brought a small smile to her lips, a reminder of her mother’s way of showing care, even in little things. Sally picked it up, feeling the familiar shape in her hands, but noticing it was empty. With a small sigh, she made her way to the adjoining bathroom, her diaper crinkling softly as she walked. Inside the bathroom, the light from the street filtered in just enough for her to see the faucet. She turned it on, the sound of running water breaking the quiet for a moment as she filled the cup. The water splashed softly against the plastic, and she smiled slightly, feeling the simple satisfaction of the familiar routine. She turned off the faucet and made her way back to the studio, the sippy cup in hand. As she placed the cup on the table next to her paints, her eyes caught sight of something else—a large pacifier sitting next to her supplies. It had been there for a while, something her mother had gotten her during one of their shopping trips, more as a joke than anything else. Still, Sally had kept it, sometimes using it when she painted, letting the rhythmic sucking calm her nerves. She smiled ruefully at the sight of it, thinking she might use it later. The thought brought her a strange sense of comfort, a small secret indulgence that only she understood. Turning her attention back to the black canvas on the easel, Sally felt her mind begin to focus. The darkness of the canvas reflected the uncertainty and confusion she had been feeling, but tonight was different. The conversation with her mother the night before had shifted something inside her. She had learned more about her parents than she ever expected, and though the story was complicated, it had brought her a strange warmth. A sense of understanding. Sally dipped her fingers into the paint, feeling the cool wetness coat her skin. She was ready to turn the darkness into something brighter, something hopeful. The restlessness that had woken her was fading now, replaced with a sense of purpose. As she lifted her hand to the canvas, the first stroke of color breaking the black surface, she felt a small thrill of excitement. She was ready. Ready to let the darkness transition into something brighter. Ready to let her fingers bring her emotions to life. And as she glanced back at the sippy cup on the table, and the pacifier sitting nearby, she felt a sense of peace. Everything was just as it should be, and she was exactly where she needed to be. Sally stood in front of the black canvas, her fingers hovering over the paint jars. The room was still, the only sounds the occasional creak of the house and the soft hum of the early morning. The sippy cup sat beside her on the table, the baby motifs gently lit by the moonlight streaming through the window. She glanced at it for a moment, then back at the canvas, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing in from all sides. There was a stirring inside her, a restless energy, but unlike earlier in bed, this felt different. There was something purposeful about it now. She could feel the tension bubbling up, ready to be released. Her fingers moved instinctively toward the bright hues of blue on her palette—vibrant, electric shades that called to her. They reminded her of the film she had been thinking about recently, with its intense emotional moments and vivid use of color. The blue hues had always stood out to her, symbols of freedom and the ocean, things she could only reach through imagination. She dipped her fingers into the first hue, feeling the cool paint glide across her skin. It was a deep blue, almost indigo, rich and intense. Without overthinking it, she pressed her fingers to the canvas, smearing the blue in a sweeping motion that cut through the blackness. The contrast was stark—darkness against vibrant color—but it felt right. The paint smeared easily, and she began to lose herself in the act, her fingers dancing across the canvas in fluid, abstract motions. She switched to a lighter blue, this one brighter, almost electric. She mixed it with the deeper blue, creating swirls and lines that seemed to ripple across the canvas like waves. It was as though she was releasing her thoughts, her emotions, onto the canvas—transferring the pent-up feelings she hadn’t been able to articulate into the fluidity of the paint. The blues mingled with the black background, creating a dynamic tension between light and dark, chaos and calm. As she worked, Sally found herself growing thirsty. Without pausing her painting for too long, she grabbed the large sippy cup her mother had given her and took a long drink. The cold water refreshed her, grounding her back in the present moment, its practicality contrasting with the childishness of the cup. But she didn’t mind; it made her feel taken care of, even though it was just a small, personal indulgence. She placed it back down on the table, her fingers already itching to return to the paint. The strokes became faster, more urgent, as if her emotions were being wrung out through her hands and onto the canvas. The motion felt cathartic, releasing the built-up energy that had been lingering in her since her conversation with her mother the night before. Her thoughts of her father, the revelations, the complexities of their relationship—all of it seemed to seep into the vibrant blues she was using, as if the canvas could absorb her emotional turmoil. Sally paused for a moment, stepping back to look at what she had done. The blues and blacks swirled together in a way that made the painting feel alive, pulsing with her inner energy. Her body was tense, but it was the kind of tension that felt productive, as though she was releasing more than just paint onto the canvas. She was letting go of her thoughts, her confusions, her frustrations—letting them bleed into the abstract shapes she had created. As she continued painting, she became aware of the growing warmth in her diaper. It was almost unintentional, the way she allowed herself to wet. There had been a quiet, subtle tension in her body, and as she released it into the padding, she felt the same sense of satisfaction she had earlier. It was like everything was working together—her body, her mind, the paint—all moving in harmony, releasing the things she didn’t need to hold on to anymore. The warmth spread through the diaper, and she smiled slightly, feeling more in control, even though she was letting go. The familiar crinkle accompanied her every movement as she worked, but it was background noise now. The wet diaper wasn’t a distraction—it was part of the routine, part of the comfort. She didn’t even pause to think about it as she grabbed her sippy cup again, taking another long drink, letting the water cool her from the inside out. Her eyes flicked to the pacifier lying on the table. She had spotted it earlier, and the thought of using it lingered at the edge of her mind. It had always been a source of comfort during her more intense painting sessions, a calming presence when she needed it most. With a small, rueful smile, she picked it up, rolling it between her fingers for a moment before popping it into her mouth. Instantly, the familiar sensation soothed her, the gentle sucking motion helping her relax further. With the pacifier in her mouth and the crinkling diaper beneath her, Sally felt completely at ease. She stood there in the studio, the moonlight still casting long shadows across the room, and let herself sink into the rhythm of her painting. The blue hues continued to dominate the canvas, swirls of light and dark, chaos and calm, all coming together in a symphony of color that perfectly matched the swirling emotions inside her. The pacifier and the diaper added to the sense of security she felt, a cocoon of comfort as she let herself go. The wetness in her diaper was a reminder of the release she had allowed herself, the physical manifestation of letting go of her pent-up emotions. It was all part of the process—part of the balance she had found between her emotions, her body, and the canvas in front of her. As the session wore on, Sally felt the last bits of tension draining from her. The blues on the canvas glowed softly in the dim light, their vibrancy a stark contrast to the black background she had started with. The painting had transformed, just as she had. What had begun as a reflection of darkness and confusion was now a piece full of life, full of movement and hope. She stood back from the canvas, sucking gently on the pacifier, and smiled around it. The blues, the crinkle of her diaper, the sippy cup—all of it was part of her world, her space. And in that moment, everything felt exactly as it should. She had released the tension, both mental and physical, and it had found its way into her art. The canvas was alive, just like she felt. For the first time in days, Sally felt peaceful. -- The hours had slipped away without Sally noticing. The soft, rhythmic sucking of her pacifier, the feel of the paint beneath her fingers, and the soothing crinkle of her diaper as she moved around the studio had lulled her into a state of focused calm. She had completely lost track of time, the bright studio lights masking the fact that the morning sun was now flooding the rest of the house with warm light. Her painting had become a vivid swirl of blues, purples, and softer hues that now took up the entire canvas. Sally had barely moved from her spot at the easel, the world outside the studio forgotten. Her diaper, once a source of comfort, was now sagging heavily between her legs, soaked through from hours of absorption. She shifted slightly, feeling the weight of it pull against her hips, but even then, she didn’t mind. She was too absorbed in her work to care. As she added the final touches to her painting, the sound of the studio door opening behind her went unnoticed. Bridget stepped in quietly, her eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the room. She spotted Sally immediately, her daughter completely engrossed in the canvas, the pacifier still in her mouth. For a moment, Bridget just watched her, a fond smile spreading across her face. There was something so sweet, so pure about the sight. Sally, despite her near-teenager status, looked vulnerable and peaceful in a way that made Bridget’s heart swell. But then Bridget’s eyes drifted downward, taking in the state of her daughter’s soaked, sagging diaper. It hung low on her hips, the wet padding obvious and heavy, threatening to leak at any moment. Bridget smiled to herself—good thing she had come prepared. She had a spare diaper with her, and even brought along a booster pad for extra protection. Sally clearly needed it after all these hours in the studio. Bridget stepped closer, her footsteps finally catching Sally’s attention. Sally turned slightly, her pacifier still in her mouth, her fingers stained with paint, blinking as she realized her mother was standing right behind her. “Morning, sweetheart,” Bridget said with a knowing smile. “You’ve been at it for a while, haven’t you?” Sally blinked again, the pacifier still bobbing gently in her mouth, before finally pulling it out. “Oh... hi, Mom. I didn’t realize how long I’ve been here,” she said, glancing out the window where the bright morning light streamed in. “Is it already morning?” Bridget chuckled, her eyes glancing down at the state of Sally’s diaper. “It’s more than just morning, honey. You’re about to float away in that diaper of yours. How long have you been sitting in that?” Sally glanced down at herself, suddenly more aware of the heavy sag and the squish beneath her. Her cheeks flushed pink, a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Uh... I guess I didn’t really notice,” she admitted, shifting her legs a bit. Bridget raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. “Well, I’d say you’re overdue for a change, young lady. Good thing I brought supplies.” She reached into the bag she had brought with her and pulled out a fresh diaper, along with a booster pad. Sally gave her mother a sheepish grin. “I guess I got a little too into painting. Time just... disappeared.” Bridget shook her head, but there was nothing but affection in her voice. “It certainly did. And it looks like that diaper’s about to give up on you completely. Come on, let's get you sorted.” Sally shifted on her feet awkwardly, knowing her mother was right but still feeling a bit shy about the whole situation. “I didn’t mean to... you know, wait so long,” she mumbled. Bridget laughed lightly, placing a hand on Sally’s arm. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. You were focused, and I’m glad you’re finding your creative groove again. But this diaper—well, let’s just say it’s seen better days.” Sally couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Yeah, it’s a little... full,” she admitted. Bridget knelt down, taking a quick but careful peek at the waistband of the diaper, which was sagging low on Sally’s hips. “A little? Honey, this thing’s ready to burst. Good thing I brought a booster pad. We’ll make sure the next one holds up a little better.” Sally blushed again but felt the usual comfort that came with her mother’s warm, loving tone. “Thanks, Mom. You’re always so prepared.” Bridget smiled warmly as she unfolded the fresh diaper. “Well, I know my girl, don’t I? You’re not the only one who loses track of time when you’re focused. I’ve got to be ready for these moments.” She patted the changing mat she had spread out on the floor. “Come on, lie down, and let’s get you cleaned up.” Sally hesitated for just a moment before obliging, lying back on the mat with a sigh. Her vulnerability was on full display, but the gentle, motherly care in Bridget’s hands made it easier. There was nothing embarrassing about it, just the same warmth and love she had always known. Bridget knelt beside her, unfastening the tapes of the soaked diaper and lifting it away. “You really did a number on this one,” she teased, wiping her daughter clean with practiced ease. Sally bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize how much I had to let go.” Bridget glanced at her knowingly, finishing the clean-up. “Sometimes that’s exactly what you need to do. Let it all go. That’s what the diapers are for, right? To keep you focused and relaxed, especially when you’re working on something important.” She slid the booster pad into the new diaper and pulled it up, fastening it snugly around Sally’s waist. “There we go. Good as new.” Sally propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at the fresh, thick diaper now wrapped around her. She felt lighter, cleaner, and more at ease. “Thanks, Mom,” she said softly. “I didn’t even realize how much I needed that.” Bridget smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from Sally’s face. “That’s what I’m here for. You get lost in your art, and I’ll make sure you stay taken care of.” Sally sat up fully, feeling the comforting bulk of the fresh diaper beneath her, and smiled. “You always know what I need, don’t you?” Bridget laughed. “Of course. It’s a mom thing.” They both laughed softly, the tension in the room melting away completely. Sally stood up, feeling secure and ready to get back to her work, the pacifier still dangling from her fingers. “Maybe next time I should set a timer,” Sally joked, as she reached for her sippy cup. Bridget chuckled. “Or maybe I should just check on you a bit more often. Now, finish up your painting, and I’ll be back with breakfast.” Sally watched as her mother left the studio, feeling a swell of gratitude. Despite the vulnerability of the moment, she felt safe, understood, and ready to continue her day with a fresh start. Sally stood up, adjusting herself slightly as the fresh diaper settled into place. The extra bulk of the booster pad was immediately noticeable, pushing her legs apart just a little more than usual and altering her stance. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just different, and she felt a slight shift in how she balanced her weight. She shifted her hips experimentally, feeling the soft crinkle of the new diaper with every movement. The padding was thicker than before, giving her a sense of added security. It was almost comforting, like a physical reminder that she could let go when she needed to—whether that was emotionally or physically. She stood there for a moment, getting used to the new feeling, and then smiled slightly to herself. "Guess I won’t be needing a change for a while," she thought with a quiet laugh, running her hand along the waistband to ensure everything felt snug. Sally glanced over at her sippy cup, now empty again. The bright colors and babyish motifs seemed to stand out in the light of the studio, but instead of feeling embarrassed, she found it endearing. It was part of her routine now, part of the way she found peace in her studio space. With a soft sigh, she picked it up and made her way to the adjoining bathroom to refill it. The bathroom felt cool compared to the warmth of the studio lights, the tiles smooth beneath her bare feet. She turned on the faucet, the sound of running water filling the small space, and filled the sippy cup to the top. The coolness of the water was refreshing in her hands as she screwed the lid back on tightly. As she stood there, she shifted her weight again, feeling the bulk of the diaper gently press against her thighs. It was a sensation she had grown used to, but today, it felt a little more pronounced with the extra padding. The thickness gave her a strange sense of comfort, grounding her in the present moment. With the cup refilled, she made her way back to the studio, the sound of her diaper softly crinkling with every step. There was something almost rhythmic about it, like a subtle soundtrack to her movements. The sensation of the extra bulk was no longer something she was self-conscious about—it simply was. It was part of her, part of how she navigated her creative world. Back at the easel, Sally placed the sippy cup within reach on the table and turned her attention once more to the canvas. The vibrant blues she had been working on earlier were still wet, their hues blending beautifully against the black background she had started with. The contrast between the colors mirrored the contrast of her emotions—darkness and light, confusion and clarity. She picked up a new shade of blue, this one softer, more like the sky at dawn. Dipping her fingers into the paint, she let herself get lost in the motion again. The paint glided smoothly across the canvas, her fingers moving with a freedom that matched the calm she now felt. The act of painting, combined with the comforting presence of the fresh diaper, the soft sucking of the pacifier earlier, and the cool water from her sippy cup, all created a kind of harmony. It was as if every part of her routine was working together to help her release whatever pent-up feelings she had carried with her. The thick padding beneath her made her movements feel more deliberate, more grounded, as if the weight was helping to anchor her. Each stroke of her fingers on the canvas felt purposeful, each color added to the painting bringing her closer to a sense of peace. She sipped from her sippy cup occasionally, the cool water refreshing her between bursts of creativity. As she continued painting, she no longer thought about the bulk of the diaper or the crinkle that accompanied her every movement. Instead, she focused on the colors—how they danced and blended, how they told the story of her emotions. The blue hues had transformed the once-black canvas into something alive, something filled with hope. Sally’s mind was clear now. The studio, the painting, her diaper—all of it had become part of her way of processing the world, of letting go of whatever tensions she held inside. The thick padding against her thighs, the water in her sippy cup, and the colors on her canvas—they were all tools she used to find her balance. But a visitor was approaching. Chapter 29 - Grounded A visitor was approaching. Clara had always known how to move quietly, something that never failed to surprise Sally. It’s why, when Clara snuck into the studio that morning, Sally didn’t hear a thing until she felt the presence of someone behind her. "Well, well," Clara’s voice broke the silence softly, laced with amusement. "Look at the little artist at work." Sally didn’t jump, didn’t flinch. She was so relaxed in Clara’s company, she just smiled as she continued painting, her fingers working the last bits of blue into the canvas. "Hey, Clara," she said, not turning around. "I didn’t hear you come in." "That’s the idea," Clara teased, walking further into the studio, taking in the scene in front of her. She noticed the vibrant swirls of blue and the black background that was slowly being overtaken by softer, more hopeful hues. But her eyes lingered on Sally. There was something about her—standing there, in her paint-streaked t-shirt, her diaper softly crinkling as she moved, completely absorbed in her work—that Clara found incredibly endearing. It wasn’t just the sight of Sally so completely relaxed, but the strength she saw in her, too. Sally had her vulnerabilities, sure, but there was a quiet resilience about her, a determination to keep going no matter what. Clara leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know, you look pretty cute when you’re all focused like that. There’s something about an artist in her element.” Sally smirked, finally turning her head slightly to glance at Clara. “Flirting already? It’s barely ten in the morning.” Clara shrugged, her smile widening as she stepped closer to the easel. “What can I say? Katrina’s busy with her parents, and someone’s got to give you a little attention.” Sally laughed softly, dipping her fingers back into the paint. “Lucky me,” she teased, her tone light. But in truth, she enjoyed the banter. Clara’s flirty remarks were always playful, and there was a warmth behind them that Sally appreciated. Being around Clara was easy—there was no need to explain herself or hide anything. Clara stepped closer, her eyes flicking between the canvas and Sally’s relaxed posture. “I love the blues. They remind me of that film you were telling me about—the one you weren’t supposed to watch.” She shot Sally a mischievous grin. “What was it? Blue is the Warmest Color, right?” Sally smiled, nodding as she spread another streak of blue across the canvas. “Yeah, it’s kind of where the inspiration came from.” She paused, glancing back at Clara with a small, self-aware smirk. “Though I’m not sure I got all of it.” Clara laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Don’t worry. You’re probably better off without understanding all of it.” She walked up to Sally’s side now, watching her work from over her shoulder. “But still, I like this,” she added, her voice softer now. “It’s like... hope, you know? It’s bright.” Sally nodded, still working the paint with her fingers. “That’s the idea. It didn’t start that way, but...” She trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. Clara understood. They both knew how things sometimes started in one place and ended up somewhere completely different. Clara’s eyes drifted downward for a moment, noticing the soft crinkle of Sally’s diaper as she shifted her weight, focusing on a new spot on the canvas. There was nothing awkward about it—not between them. Clara had known about Sally’s diapers for a long time, and if anything, she found it another reason to admire her. The fact that Sally was completely herself, even with her vulnerabilities exposed, made her seem stronger. There was a quiet confidence in the way she stood, fully absorbed in her work, not caring what anyone thought. “You really are something, you know that?” Clara said softly, almost to herself. Sally paused for a moment, glancing back at Clara, her eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Clara shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “I mean, you’re here, doing your thing, not letting anything stop you. And on top of it all, you manage to look adorable while doing it.” Sally rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You’re relentless.” “Hey, I’m just saying what I see.” Clara gave her a teasing nudge. “Besides, you know you love the attention.” Sally didn’t respond immediately, but her smile widened. “Maybe,” she admitted quietly, focusing back on her painting. “Maybe a little.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill every moment with words. Sally continued to paint, and Clara watched her, content to just be in the same space. Every now and then, Clara would make a quiet comment—about the colors, about how much she liked the swirls of blue, or about how Sally should definitely teach her to finger paint. Sally would laugh softly, enjoying the banter, but keeping most of her focus on the canvas in front of her. At one point, Sally reached for her sippy cup, taking a long drink of the cool water inside. Clara watched her with a smile, finding the sight of Sally—sipping from a brightly colored cup meant for a toddler—oddly charming. “You and that sippy cup,” Clara teased, her voice light. “You never change.” Sally shrugged, unfazed. “It’s practical. And it keeps me from spilling water all over my paints. You should try it sometime.” Clara laughed softly, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’d look ridiculous.” “Please,” Sally shot back. “You’d look ridiculous doing anything.” Clara gasped in mock offense. “Wow, okay, I see how it is.” But she was grinning, and Sally’s laugh was enough to lighten the moment even more. They stayed like that for a while, the painting coming to life under Sally’s hands as Clara occasionally offered quiet commentary or playful banter. The morning passed easily, the sound of the paint, their light-hearted conversation, and the soft crinkle of Sally’s diaper blending into the calm rhythm of the day. Sally didn’t feel the time passing at all. She was so immersed in the process, in the warmth of Clara’s presence, that everything else faded away. The soft hues of blue on the canvas reflected the lightness she felt inside—free, calm, and for once, unburdened by anything but the moment. Eventually, the spell was broken by the sound of Bridget’s voice drifting through the house. “Girls, lunch is ready!” Bridget called from downstairs, her voice warm and full of its usual energy. Clara glanced at Sally, raising an eyebrow. “You ready to eat, Picasso?” Sally grinned, wiping her hands on a nearby rag. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m starving.” As they headed out of the studio together, Clara looped her arm through Sally’s with a playful grin. “You’re lucky I’m keeping you company today. Katrina’s gonna be jealous.” Sally laughed, leaning into the banter. “She’ll survive. She’s got her parents, remember?” “Yeah, but she doesn’t have you,” Clara replied, squeezing Sally’s arm gently. Sally smiled softly as they walked down the stairs. She may have started the morning feeling vulnerable and exposed, but now, she felt content—like everything was exactly as it should be. And Clara was right there with her, making the day just a little bit brighter. As Sally and Clara made their way down the stairs, Bridget was already busy setting the table for lunch. She glanced up at the sound of their footsteps and smiled warmly. “There you two are. I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost in that studio of yours, Sally.” Sally grinned, shrugging as she plopped herself down at the table. "You know me—once I start painting, I lose track of time." Clara, sliding into the seat beside Sally, gave her a mischievous grin. “Oh, she’s been more than just painting, Mrs. B. She’s been drinking like a fish.” Bridget raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?” She shot Sally a mock-serious look. “I hope it was only water, young lady.” Sally rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh as she took another sip from her sippy cup, proving Clara’s point. “It was all water,” she protested, though the pacifier still sitting on the studio table would suggest otherwise when it came to keeping a straight face. Clara leaned in, grinning wider. “Oh, trust me, she’s had more than one refill of that sippy cup. I think she’s preparing for a flood.” Bridget laughed, shaking her head as she walked over. “Well, it certainly explains a few things.” She gestured to Sally’s waistline, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “You’ve only been changed a couple of hours ago, and it already feels like you’ve been through a downpour.” Sally blushed slightly, biting her lip as she shifted in her chair. She had been pretty focused on her painting and might have lost track of just how much she’d been drinking, and well, letting go. “It’s not that bad,” she muttered under her breath, though even she could feel the weight of her diaper pressing against her. Bridget raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Not that bad?” she said, walking over to give Sally a quick, practiced check. “Sally Collins, I’m pretty sure I could wring this diaper out like a sponge.” Clara burst out laughing, leaning back in her chair. “Told you! She’s been guzzling that sippy cup like there’s no tomorrow.” Bridget couldn’t help but join in the laughter, giving Sally’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve really made the most of that booster pad, haven’t you? Good thing I came prepared.” Sally, though clearly a bit embarrassed, was smiling too. The light-hearted teasing was something she had grown used to, and it was hard not to laugh along when Clara and her mom were in full humor mode. “I was just... staying hydrated!” she said defensively, taking another sip from her sippy cup just to prove her point. Bridget shook her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, at least you’re hydrated. But I think we’re going to need to get you out of that soggy diaper sooner rather than later.” She gave Sally a mock stern look. “Honestly, what am I going to do with you?” Clara jumped in, grinning. “Maybe switch her to a hose instead of a sippy cup next time. You know, streamline the process.” Sally laughed, shoving Clara lightly. “You’re not helping.” Bridget raised her hands in mock surrender. “Oh, I’m just glad it’s water. I don’t need to find out you’ve been sneaking lemonade in that sippy cup.” Sally smiled, leaning back in her chair, her cheeks still pink from the teasing. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got enough problems with water. I’m not adding sugar into the mix.” Bridget chuckled and then gave Sally a quick, knowing glance. “Well, speaking of which, we’ll deal with that situation after lunch. I don’t want you waddling around the house with that soggy thing all day.” Clara grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “She’s already waddling. Trust me.” Sally let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head as she stabbed at the salad Bridget had prepared. “You two are the worst.” Bridget smiled warmly, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on the top of Sally’s head. “And you love us for it.” Sally smirked, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I guess I do.” They all laughed, the playful teasing bouncing between them as the lunch continued. Sally felt completely at ease, the earlier embarrassment fading as she joined in the jokes, knowing she was surrounded by people who cared for her. Even as the weight of her diaper hung between her legs, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth and love that filled the room. And that, above all else, made everything feel right. After lunch, Bridget wasted no time in ushering Sally back upstairs. Clara followed close behind, clearly eager to watch the playful "punishment" unfold. Sally, already aware of what was coming, walked ahead with mock reluctance, her wet diaper swaying heavily between her legs as she moved. The squish of it made her feel even more aware of how soaked she’d gotten, and with both Clara and her mother in tow, she couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. “I’m not sure this is necessary,” Sally grumbled, though there was a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I mean, I could have just paced myself with the water.” Bridget raised an eyebrow, the amusement clear in her eyes as she carried the fresh diaper and supplies. “Oh, no, no, no. You’ve made it quite clear you need more protection, not less. I think two booster pads should do the trick. Don’t want any more little ‘incidents,’ do we?” Clara giggled from behind, clearly enjoying every moment of Sally’s playful punishment. “Two boosters, huh? You’ll be waddling for real this time, Sal. I’d pay to see that.” Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not supposed to be encouraging this!” Clara just shrugged innocently. “I’m just here for the entertainment.” They reached Sally’s room, and Bridget immediately set to work. Sally lay back on the changing mat with a resigned grin, her wet diaper crinkling as she settled down. Bridget pulled the soaked diaper away with practiced ease, her eyes widening playfully as she glanced at Clara. “See? I wasn’t exaggerating. It’s like a swimming pool down here.” Clara, sitting cross-legged on the studio sofa, stifled a laugh. “Well, she did drink, like, three sippy cups of water. You’ve got to stay hydrated, right, Sally?” “Yeah, yeah,” Sally muttered, biting her lip to keep from laughing as her mom wiped her clean. “I’ll take it easy next time.” “Oh, there’s no ‘next time,’” Bridget said with a mock serious tone. “Not with just one booster, at least.” She pulled out the thick, fresh diaper and laid it underneath Sally, followed by the first booster pad. “You know, you’ll probably have to clear your schedule for the next few hours. This one’s going to keep you very protected.” Sally snorted, lifting her hips slightly as Bridget adjusted the diaper beneath her. “It’s not that bad, Mom.” Bridget, however, wasn’t finished. “Oh, but we’re not done yet.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a second booster pad with a grin. “This,” she said, holding it up for effect, “is for extra assurance.” Sally’s eyes widened. “Two? Seriously?” Clara burst out laughing from her spot on the sofa. “Oh my God, Sal, you’re gonna be like a balloon! How are you going to walk?” Sally groaned but couldn’t keep from laughing. “This is getting ridiculous.” Bridget, unphased by Sally’s protests, slid the second booster pad into place, patting it down snugly before securing the tapes on the thick diaper. “There,” she said with a flourish, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now you’ll be protected for anything.” Sally shifted on the mat, feeling the extra bulk between her legs. The diaper was massive, far bulkier than she was used to, and she had no choice but to waddle slightly as she sat up. She shot her mother an exaggerated glare. “You’ve created a monster.” Clara was practically doubled over with laughter, her cheeks pink from how hard she was laughing. “I mean... you’re not wrong! That thing is huge!” Sally stood, feeling the weight of the double-boosted diaper forcing her legs apart more than usual. Every step she took was met with a loud crinkle and a subtle waddle, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks, Mom. I can practically hear myself walking now.” Bridget chuckled, but she wasn’t done yet. “Oh, we’re not quite finished.” She reached into her bag one last time and pulled out a pair of plastic panties—clear with pastel-colored trim. “These will make sure there are absolutely no leaks.” Sally’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?” Bridget just gave her a knowing smile. “You wanted to drink like a fish, and I’m just making sure you’re ready for it.” Clara’s eyes sparkled with mischief from the sofa. “I have to say, the plastic panties really complete the look.” Sally, now wearing an extremely thick diaper and snug plastic panties, felt the familiar crinkle grow louder as she moved. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mock-stern look at Clara. “I’ll make sure to waddle dramatically for you.” Clara grinned, watching Sally settle herself back into the studio space. "I wouldn't expect anything less." As Sally resumed her spot near the easel, the extra bulk beneath her made every movement feel exaggerated. She waddled slightly, exaggerating it for Clara’s benefit, making her friend laugh even harder. Clara, now sitting back on the studio sofa with her legs crossed, continued to watch with a gleam in her eyes. “So, tell me,” Clara began, leaning back and running her fingers through her hair. “How am I supposed to focus on anything when you look so...” She paused, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Adorable? No, that’s not the right word. Resilient. Yeah, let’s go with that.” Sally grinned as she picked up her brush, dipping it back into the paint. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were so easily distracted.” Clara shot her a playful look. “Well, it’s hard not to be when you’re standing there in a double-booster diaper and plastic panties, all while finger painting like a pro.” Sally shook her head, amused. “Is this how you flirt? Because I thought that was Katrina’s job.” Clara raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, her tone teasing. “Who says it’s just Katrina’s job?” Sally turned her head, surprised but also clearly entertained. “Clara, are you flirting with me?” Clara shrugged with an innocent expression, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just testing the waters. What are you going to do about it?” Sally let out a soft laugh, her cheeks turning pink. “You know, I thought you were the sensible one. The responsible one.” “Oh, I’m very responsible,” Clara said with a grin. “I’m just also aware that you’re cute, and someone’s got to remind you of that.” She winked playfully. Sally shook her head, though she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Katrina’s going to be so jealous when she finds out about this.” Clara laughed softly, leaning back against the sofa. “Maybe she’ll have to step up her game.” Sally returned to her painting, the extra bulk of the diaper and the gentle flirtation swirling around her in a way that made her feel completely at ease. She had never thought Clara, of all people, would be the one to flirt, but here they were, and it felt surprisingly natural. It added a new layer of fun to the morning, and Sally found herself enjoying it more than she expected. As she worked, the two of them continued their banter, Clara’s soft teasing and Sally’s amused responses filling the studio with laughter. It was the perfect balance between humor and comfort—exactly what Sally needed. And, even with the extra bulk between her legs, she felt perfectly content, surrounded by the warmth of her best friend’s company and the playful affection that had come with it. They parted with a hug, and a promise of more Studio time together. -- Sally was nearing the final strokes of her painting, the vibrant blues blending effortlessly with the blacks as she lost herself in the rhythm of the canvas. The air in the studio was filled with the faint scent of paint and the lingering calm of the morning's creative focus. She didn't even notice when Bridget stepped quietly into the room, holding a simple diaper in one hand and wipes, powder, and oil in the other. Bridget stood there for a moment, watching her daughter, as the sound of the brush sliding across the canvas filled the room. Sally, absorbed in her work, was completely unaware of her mother's presence until Bridget spoke softly. “Sally,” her mother said gently, “I think it’s time for a quick break.” Sally blinked, turning her head to see her mother standing there, diaper in hand. She let out a small sigh, setting her brush down and wiping her fingers on a nearby rag. She knew the routine well enough by now, and there was always something oddly comforting about it. The world paused, and for a moment, she could let everything else fall away. Without a word, Sally walked over to the changing mat her mother had laid out on the studio floor, feeling the familiar warmth of vulnerability settling over her. Bridget waited, her expression soft but with a certain weight to it, as Sally lay down on the mat, her diaper crinkling slightly as she settled into position. Bridget began to undo the tapes of Sally’s soaked diaper, the soft ripping sound filling the quiet studio. The cool air hit Sally’s skin, and she shivered slightly as Bridget peeled the diaper away, revealing the dampness underneath. There was no rush in her mother’s movements, just a steady, practiced care as she reached for the wipes and began to clean her gently. Sally bit her lip, her gaze drifting upwards to the ceiling. The sensation of her mother’s hands moving softly, wiping away the wetness, brought a strange mix of emotions—comfort, vulnerability, and an almost childlike sense of being cared for. The cool wipe against her skin made her inhale sharply, but she stayed silent, biting her lip harder to keep her emotions in check. It wasn’t the first time her mind wandered during these moments, drifting in and out of thoughts she didn’t want to confront. As Bridget cleaned her, she spoke in a tone that was soft, almost casual, as if the news she was delivering wasn’t earth-shattering. “Sally,” she began, “your dad is coming to visit tomorrow morning.” Sally’s body tensed, her reaction immediate. “Tomorrow?” she asked, her voice sharp with surprise. Her thoughts swirled in confusion, her stomach tightening. "Why now?" Her voice was small, her vulnerability exposed not just through the diaper change, but in the sudden onslaught of emotions the news brought with it. Bridget paused for a moment, looking down at her daughter. She pulled out the baby oil and rubbed it gently into Sally’s skin, the soft warmth spreading across Sally’s body, relaxing her despite the storm of thoughts in her head. “I know it’s been a while,” Bridget said, continuing to oil Sally’s skin, “but I reached out to his assistant recently.” Sally's eyes widened. "You reached out?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Bridget nodded, lifting Sally’s legs slightly to reach underneath her with the oil. “I did. I thought it was time. He’s been... distant, and I needed to know why. His assistant said he’s been busy, but that he really wants to see you.” Sally lay there, feeling the oil being massaged into her skin, her mind buzzing with the revelation. The warmth of her mother’s touch was in stark contrast to the cold rush of emotions she felt. She wanted to say something, to protest, but instead, she bit her lip harder, closing her eyes for a moment. Her father. Tomorrow. It was too much to process. Bridget reached for the powder next, the sweet smell filling the room as she gently dusted it across Sally’s now-oiled skin. The powder floated in the air like a soft reminder of childhood, of simpler times. Sally's mind, however, was anything but simple. She felt a mix of anger, confusion, and a deep sense of longing, all stirred up by the news of her father’s impending visit. “He’ll be here in the morning,” Bridget continued as she positioned the fresh diaper beneath Sally, “and he’s excited to spend time with you. I know it’s been hard, but he does care about you, Sally.” Sally stayed silent, watching as her mother pulled the diaper snug around her waist, the soft tapes sticking firmly in place. The thickness of the diaper, freshly padded and secure, felt heavier than usual, but it wasn’t just the material. It was the weight of everything—her father, her mother’s confession, the reality that was rushing toward her. Bridget gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Take your time, sweetheart. I’ll leave you to finish up in here.” She leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from Sally’s face, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll be okay.” Sally didn’t respond, her lip trembling slightly as she nodded. Bridget stood, gathering up the used diaper and supplies, leaving the room quietly, allowing her daughter the space she needed to process. Once alone, Sally lay still, the fresh diaper crinkling as she shifted on the mat. Her mind was racing. Her father’s visit was tomorrow, something she hadn’t been expecting. The news weighed heavy on her, but she didn’t want to confront it, not yet. Instead of cleaning up or returning to her painting, Sally retreated. Slowly, almost instinctively, she brought her thumb to her lips and began sucking on it softly. The motion was automatic, a return to a place of comfort she hadn’t visited in a long time. It felt safe, like the rest of the world could melt away while she remained cocooned in this small, familiar act of self-soothing. Her eyes fluttered closed as she curled up slightly on the mat, her body sinking deeper into the diaper’s padding, the sweet smell of powder lingering around her. The studio, with its bright lights and unfinished painting, faded into the background. Sally wasn’t a teenager in that moment. She wasn’t a girl grappling with the sudden reappearance of her father or the complex emotions that came with it. She was small, protected, and cared for. She sucked her thumb gently, her mind retreating further into the warmth of her own childhood memories, where things were simple and safe. The soft crinkle of the diaper with every small movement became her soundtrack, lulling her further into a place where the adult world and its problems couldn’t reach her. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow, about seeing her father after so long. Instead, she focused on the here and now, letting herself drift into the comfort of her own infantile space, where the only thing that mattered was the softness of her thumb and the familiar security of the diaper around her. And so, she stayed there, thumb in mouth, eyes closed, retreating from reality as she sought refuge in the safety of her childhood instincts, waiting for the world to pause long enough for her to gather the strength to face what lay ahead. Chapter 30 - Daddy Bridget stepped quietly into the studio, her eyes immediately finding Sally curled up on the mat. Her daughter lay there, just in her diaper, with no t-shirt to cover her, as Bridget had expected. The sight of her, stripped down to this vulnerable state, tugged at Bridget’s heart. Sally was gently rocking herself in a fetal position, the soft crinkling of her diaper the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Tears had clearly been shed—Sally's cheeks were stained, and her eyes looked tired and swollen from crying. Though she had calmed, there was a deep exhaustion in the way she moved, as if she had poured all her emotions into the hours that had passed since Bridget had left her. The absence of the t-shirt made the scene all the more poignant. Sally, so exposed in just her wet diaper, seemed to have retreated into her own space, trying to find comfort in the rocking motion of her body. It was clear she hadn’t cleaned up or moved from where she had been left, her small movements suggesting that she was still processing the emotional weight of the news about her father’s visit. Bridget knelt beside her daughter, watching for a moment, her heart breaking at the sight of how tired and worn down Sally looked. The gentle rhythm of Sally’s rocking and the crinkle of her diaper filled the quiet space. There was no resistance in Sally’s body, no energy to protest or even acknowledge her mother just yet. She seemed emotionally drained, a deep fatigue settling over her. "Sweetheart," Bridget whispered softly, her voice full of warmth and concern. She reached out, resting a gentle hand on Sally’s shoulder, feeling the tension beneath her daughter’s fragile calm. Sally didn’t move much, just a slight shift as if acknowledging her mother’s presence without having the energy to fully respond. Bridget knelt beside Sally, watching as her daughter rocked gently on the mat, the soft crinkling of her wet diaper the only sound in the quiet studio. Sally hadn’t moved much since Bridget entered the room, but there was a subtle shift in her energy. Slowly, as if summoning what little strength she had left, Sally began to stir. She uncurled herself from her fetal position and, with deliberate slowness, pushed herself up onto all fours. The effort seemed enormous, her body heavy with emotional exhaustion. Her movements were shaky and tentative, as though the weight of everything she was feeling made even the simplest actions difficult. Bridget stayed still, watching Sally closely, her heart breaking at how exposed her daughter looked. Sally’s vulnerability was laid bare—just in her soaked diaper, thumb still in her mouth, her small body trembling slightly as she tried to rise from the mat. With slow, labored effort, Sally lifted herself up onto the sofa. She sat there, hunched over slightly, her arms wrapping around her chest as if trying to hold herself together. The sense of exposure, of being seen in such a raw state, was overwhelming. Sally hugged herself tightly, her fingers digging into her skin, trying to protect herself from the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over once again. Bridget stood beside her, watching carefully, not wanting to overwhelm Sally with words just yet. There was a quiet understanding between them—Bridget knew Sally needed time to come to terms with everything she was feeling. The news of her father’s visit had hit her hard, and now, sitting there in her soaked diaper, Sally was processing the tidal wave of emotions that had consumed her. “Sally,” Bridget whispered softly, her voice gentle and steady. She knelt down beside her daughter, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sally’s body stiffened slightly at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. Her arms remained wrapped around herself, hugging tightly, as though trying to shield herself from the world. Bridget, sensing Sally’s need for comfort but also her desire to maintain some semblance of control, moved slowly. She had brought a clean t-shirt with her, knowing Sally would need something to help her feel more secure. “Let’s get this on, sweetheart,” she said softly, lifting the shirt up and holding it out. Sally didn’t respond at first, her face still buried in her arms. But after a moment, she nodded slowly, her body relaxing just a fraction. She uncurled slightly, letting her arms drop a little as Bridget carefully helped guide the t-shirt over her head. The soft fabric fell gently around her shoulders, and Bridget pulled it down, covering her exposed torso. The action was simple, but the comfort of being dressed again seemed to help ease some of the tension in Sally’s body. Once the shirt was on, Sally seemed to let out a small sigh, her body finally settling into the sofa. She looked down at her lap, avoiding her mother’s gaze, still feeling the emotional weight of everything. Bridget sat beside her now, close enough to offer support but giving Sally the space to process what she needed to. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with understanding. Sally leaned back slightly into the soft cushions, her arms still wrapped loosely around herself. The crinkle of her wet diaper was a faint reminder of her vulnerability, but with the t-shirt on, she felt a little less exposed, a little more grounded. Bridget’s hand found Sally’s again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” Sally finally looked up, her eyes still red and tired, but the panic and sadness from earlier had softened. She bit her lip, unsure of how to put her emotions into words, but she didn’t need to. The look she gave her mother said enough. Bridget had always been her rock, and in this moment, that steady presence was what she needed most. “I don’t know what to feel,” Sally admitted quietly, her voice shaky but calm. “I’m… scared, I think. About Dad. I don’t know what it’s going to be like.” Bridget nodded, her expression gentle and understanding. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s been a long time, and there’s a lot you’re feeling right now. But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out together.” Sally nodded slowly, her arms loosening their grip around her torso. For the first time in hours, she felt the tightness in her chest start to ease. Her body, though still tired, seemed to relax just a little. She leaned into her mother’s side, her head resting gently on Bridget’s shoulder. The familiar warmth of her mother’s presence made her feel safer, more grounded. “I don’t know why it’s so hard,” Sally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because it matters,” Bridget replied softly, stroking Sally’s hair. “And it’s okay to feel like this, Sally. You’re going to be okay.” Sally stayed like that for a while, letting her mother’s words settle over her like a blanket of reassurance. The fear and uncertainty were still there, but the weight of them didn’t feel as heavy anymore. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and slowly, the overwhelming storm inside her seemed to calm. For now, she didn’t have to confront everything all at once. She didn’t have to have all the answers. With her mother by her side, Sally felt like she could breathe again, like she could face whatever came next. The wet diaper, the tears, the vulnerability—all of it was part of this moment, but it didn’t define her. She was still strong, still resilient. As Sally sat there, calm and collected, she realized that even in her most exposed moments, she was never truly alone. -- Bridget stood slowly, offering a hand to Sally as she did. Sally hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took it, her fingers curling around her mother’s in a soft but firm grip. The room seemed quieter now, the soft hum of the studio lights a distant background noise as Bridget gently pulled Sally up from the sofa. The walk through the expansive house felt like a journey of its own. The house was big, almost too big sometimes, with long hallways that stretched endlessly, echoing every small sound. Their footsteps were soft, the crinkle of Sally’s wet diaper faint but present with each step. The sunlight from the large windows along the hallway bathed the floors in a golden glow, though it did little to dispel the quiet, almost tender mood between mother and daughter. Sally leaned slightly into her mother as they walked, her body still feeling heavy with emotional exhaustion. Bridget kept a steady hand on her back, guiding her as they made their way to her bedroom. The house seemed vast, almost like a maze, but with Bridget beside her, Sally felt grounded. Each step was slow, deliberate, as if they were moving through something bigger than just the house itself. As they passed the bannister overlooking the living room, Sally glanced down at the space below. The open-concept kitchen and large windows revealed the outside world, but it felt distant, as though she and her mother were walking through a separate, quieter reality. The half-empty plates from lunch were still visible on the dining table, but Sally barely registered them. Everything outside of this moment seemed unimportant. Bridget’s arm stayed around her shoulders as they finally reached Sally’s bedroom, the familiar space offering a small sense of comfort. The soft pastel walls and the bed piled with blankets felt welcoming, like a retreat from the overwhelming emotions of the day. Bridget guided Sally gently toward the bed, giving her a small smile as she gestured for her to lie down. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” she said softly, her voice as tender as ever. Sally nodded silently and lay back on the bed, feeling the crinkle of her wet diaper as she settled onto the mattress. Bridget moved with quiet efficiency, gathering the fresh diaper, wipes, and powder. There was no rush, no urgency, just the same steady, loving care that Sally had come to rely on. Bridget began by unfastening the tapes of Sally’s soaked diaper, the sound sharp in the otherwise still room. The cool air hit Sally’s skin, but Bridget was quick to clean her daughter gently, wiping away the wetness with practiced ease. Sally closed her eyes, the sensation of her mother’s hands moving softly over her body making her feel more at ease. Bridget’s touch was as calming as it was familiar, wiping away the tension of the past hours along with the physical discomfort of the wet diaper. When she finished, she reached for the fresh diaper, lifting Sally’s hips slightly to slide it underneath her, the soft padding settling snugly against her skin. As Bridget fastened the tapes on the clean diaper, she glanced at her daughter, seeing the exhaustion etched into her face. “Better?” she asked quietly, giving Sally’s leg a gentle pat. Sally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.” Bridget smiled softly and reached for Sally’s favorite pajamas—a soft, worn-out pair that she knew her daughter loved. She helped Sally into the pajamas, gently guiding her arms through the sleeves, the soft fabric settling comfortably against Sally’s skin. Once Sally was dressed, Bridget pulled back the blankets on the bed and gestured for her to lie down. Sally didn’t resist, sinking into the comfort of the bed with a sigh. Bridget tucked the blankets around her, the warmth cocooning her as she settled into the soft sheets. Without a word, Bridget sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Sally gently into her arms. Sally curled up against her, her head resting on her mother’s chest, the soft rise and fall of Bridget’s breathing soothing her. Bridget’s arms wrapped around her daughter, holding her close, her hand stroking Sally’s hair in slow, rhythmic motions. They stayed like that for a long time, the silence between them filled with quiet understanding. Sally didn’t need to say anything, and neither did Bridget. The warmth of her mother’s embrace, the gentle crinkle of her fresh diaper, and the softness of the bed were enough. In this moment, everything felt simple and safe, as though the world outside the room didn’t exist. As the minutes passed, Sally’s body began to relax, the tension from earlier draining away. The rhythm of her mother’s heartbeat and the soft comfort of her pajamas lulled her into a peaceful state. Her breathing grew slower, more even, and she felt herself slipping into the gentle pull of sleep. Bridget stayed with her, holding her until she felt Sally’s breathing deepen, her body growing still in her arms. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of Sally’s head, her heart swelling with love and tenderness. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” she whispered, though Sally was already fast asleep. -- Bridget and Sally sat together, a spread of toast, eggs, and fresh fruit between them. It was a peaceful moment, but an undercurrent of tension hung in the air. Adrian’s arrival was looming, and neither of them could entirely relax. Sally, still in her soft pajamas and feeling the familiar weight of a wet diaper beneath the waistband, poked at her breakfast. Her hair was a bit messy from the morning, and she felt sluggish, not yet fully awake but already preoccupied with her father’s impending visit. “Do we know exactly when Dad’s going to be here?” Sally asked, pushing a slice of toast around her plate, her voice tinged with nerves. Bridget sipped her coffee, leaning back slightly in her chair. “His assistant only said his plane is landing at 8. Didn’t mention the airport, but that’s what I know.” Sally frowned, clearly calculating in her head. “If his plane’s landing at 8, it’s got to be either JFK or Logan. I mean, those are the only airports that get international flights like that.” She paused, thinking harder. “We’re about halfway between both airports. It’ll take him at least a couple of hours to get here. So, if he’s landing at 8, he’ll probably get here around lunch. That gives us time.” Bridget nodded, following her logic. “I think that’s reasonable. Maybe around noon or a little after.” Sally relaxed slightly, still fiddling with her food but feeling a bit better. “Yeah, okay. I’ll have time to get ready. I’ll shower, put on something nice...” She trailed off, her mind clearly wandering to what it would be like to see her father after almost a year. The thought still made her stomach churn a little. They continued their breakfast, making small talk about what they might do once Adrian arrived. Sally, trying to push down her nerves, was just about to say something when she caught a sudden flash of light through the window—a reflection of something outside. Her gaze snapped toward the window, her heart skipping a beat. There, pulling slowly into the driveway, was a long, black SUV. The kind she knew all too well from her father’s previous visits. Her breath hitched. “Mom,” Sally whispered urgently, eyes wide. “There’s a car. I think it’s him.” Bridget looked up quickly, following Sally’s gaze out the window. The SUV rolled to a slow stop, and sure enough, the unmistakable figure of Adrian was stepping out of the backseat. He looked as formal and composed as ever, even for an early morning arrival. Bridget blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing. “That’s... that’s him, alright. He must’ve flown into a smaller airport. I didn’t think he’d get here this fast.” Sally’s eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as the reality hit her. She was still in her pajamas and, worse, still in her wet diaper. The crinkling noise she had gotten so used to was suddenly deafening in her mind. Panic surged through her. “I’m not ready! I— I need to—” “Sally, go!” Bridget urged, her voice firm but calm. “Run upstairs and get decent. I’ll handle the first few minutes. Don’t worry.” Without another word, Sally bolted from her chair, her heart racing. The crinkling of her diaper seemed to echo in the hall as she sprinted up the stairs, each step feeling more frantic than the last. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic and self-consciousness. She hadn’t expected him for at least another couple of hours. The idea of facing her father while still in this vulnerable state, dressed like a child, was unbearable. The crinkling grew louder with every movement, the wet diaper clinging uncomfortably to her as she rushed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She could still hear the muffled sound of the SUV’s engine outside, her father’s distant voice exchanging greetings with Bridget. Her stomach twisted with nerves. Her hands fumbled as she quickly tugged at the waistband of her pajamas, peeling them down hurriedly. The cool air hit her wet skin as she stripped off the soggy diaper, tossing it into the trash with a sense of urgency. Her face burned with embarrassment at the thought of almost being caught in such a state. There was no time for hesitation. Sally grabbed her shower cap from the hook and darted into the bathroom. She needed to be quick—just enough to freshen up and feel presentable. The water hit her skin, warm and soothing, but her mind was racing too fast to enjoy it. She couldn’t stop thinking about how suddenly everything had shifted. She was supposed to have time to prepare, to get her mind in the right place before seeing her father. Now, all she could focus on was getting out of the shower as quickly as possible, drying herself, and finding something respectable to wear. She turned the water off after barely a couple of minutes, her heart still racing. Her thoughts were scattered as she hurriedly dried herself off, every second that passed making her more anxious. Her mind was a tangle of nerves—how would her father react? Would he notice how flustered she was? Would he see through the hurried effort she was making to pull herself together? Sally practically threw on the first set of clothes she could find—clean underwear, a pair of jeans, and a simple blouse. She pulled on a cardigan, hoping it would give her a little extra polish. Her hands were shaking slightly as she smoothed the fabric down, trying to compose herself. She glanced in the mirror, seeing her face still slightly flushed from the rush, her hair dry but a little tousled from the quick shower. It would have to do. There wasn’t time for anything more. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart, staring at her reflection as she gave herself a small nod of encouragement. “You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself. “Just... breathe.” But as much as she tried to calm herself, the knot in her stomach remained. She felt small again, like the anxious girl she had been the last time she saw her father. No matter how much she tried to prepare, the sight of him stepping out of the car, that familiar figure from a life she only half-understood, always brought those feelings back. Sally gave herself one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs, her footsteps softer now, though her heart still thudded in her chest. She could hear the low murmur of voices from the front hall. Her father was inside now, his deep voice unmistakable. -- Sally's heart raced as she descended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her father, Adrian, was waiting in the foyer, just out of sight, but she could already feel the weight of his presence, as commanding and composed as ever. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year, and the nerves that had been simmering all morning were now in full bloom. The quick shower and change of clothes had done little to calm her. Bridget’s voice filtered up through the hallway, calm but tinged with surprise. “Adrian, you’re early. We didn’t expect you until closer to noon.” Sally’s hand tightened on the bannister as she took a deep breath, summoning the courage to step into view. And there he was—her father, standing tall and poised, his dark hair perfectly in place, his eyes sharp as they scanned the house. He looked just as she remembered him—immaculate, every bit the successful businessman she’d always known him to be. Yet there was something almost too perfect about him, something distant, as if he belonged to a different world entirely. “Hi, Dad,” Sally managed, her voice quiet and tentative as she took a few steps closer. Adrian turned his gaze toward her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but then his features softened slightly. “Sally,” he said, his voice steady, but with a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there before. “It’s good to see you.” The formality of his words, coupled with the long silence between them, left Sally feeling more anxious than ever. She hovered by the edge of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, not sure whether to move closer or keep her distance. Then, almost without thinking, the weight of everything—the time apart, the anticipation, the sheer need for connection—became too much. Sally closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around her father in a sudden, impulsive hug. Her face pressed against his chest, and before she could stop herself, the word slipped out: “Daddy.” The moment the word left her lips, Sally froze, realizing how childlike it sounded, how out of place it was in the world they lived in now. She hadn’t called him "Daddy" in years, but in that moment, she couldn’t help it. She needed him, needed the reassurance that he was there, even if everything else between them felt so far away. Adrian stiffened slightly at the unexpected embrace, his hands hovering awkwardly before he slowly placed one hand on her back, a reserved gesture that felt both comforting and distant. He was clearly caught off guard by her calling him "Daddy," but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let her hold on for a moment longer before gently clearing his throat. “It’s alright, Sally,” he said, his voice quieter now, more tender. Sally lingered for just another second before stepping back, her cheeks flushed as she avoided his gaze. She felt silly for hugging him so suddenly, for letting that word slip out, but part of her didn’t regret it. She had missed him more than she realized. Bridget, sensing the need to break the tension, stepped forward with a small smile. “Why don’t we sit down for some coffee? We were just finishing breakfast when you arrived.” Adrian nodded, his usual composure returning as he followed them into the kitchen. Bridget poured him a cup of coffee, and they all sat down at the table. Sally took her seat across from her father, still feeling a little off-balance from the emotional rush of the hug. As they settled into their seats, Bridget couldn’t help but comment, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “You really are early, Adrian. I was sure you’d be flying into New York or Boston.” Adrian took a sip of his coffee, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, I told you I’d be landing at 8,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I just didn’t say where.” Sally furrowed her brow slightly, still confused by the timing. “But how? It’s hours from Boston or New York… unless…” Adrian chuckled softly, clearly enjoying their confusion. “I didn’t fly commercial. I flew private.” Bridget’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at him, clearly intrigued. “Flying private?” she repeated, leaning forward slightly. “So, you avoided all the usual customs and waits? You just... land and go?” Adrian nodded, his posture relaxed, as if this were all quite normal to him. “Exactly. It saves a lot of time when I need to move quickly for business.” Bridget smiled, intrigued by the efficiency of it all. “I can see why you’d prefer that. It must be nice, avoiding all the hassle of commercial flights.” There was a tone of casual curiosity in her voice, as if she was asking about a particularly convenient service, though she wasn’t unfamiliar with Adrian’s lifestyle. As they continued discussing it, Sally sat there quietly, her mind spinning. She hadn’t heard much about “flying private” before, and the way they were talking about it made it sound like renting a car or booking a train ticket. But something wasn’t quite clicking. Finally, after a few more sips of her coffee, Sally couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer. She looked up at her father, her voice hesitant but genuine. “What... what does flying private mean, exactly?” Both Adrian and Bridget turned to look at her, and for a moment, there was a pause as they realized she didn’t fully understand the world they were talking about. Bridget was the first to respond, her voice gentle and explanatory. “It means renting a plane for yourself, honey. No other passengers, no waiting at the airport. Just you and whoever you’re flying with, going directly from one place to another.” Sally’s eyes widened as she processed that. Renting a plane? For yourself? She had never imagined that was something people could just… do. “So, you rented a plane from Greece?” she asked, still trying to wrap her head around the idea. Adrian, however, gave a small, sheepish smile and shook his head. “Not quite,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “The Gulfstream is mine.” Sally blinked, the words not quite registering at first. “Yours?” she repeated slowly. “You mean… you own the plane?” Adrian nodded, his smile widening slightly as he watched her reaction. “Yes, I do. It’s useful for business, especially when I need to travel internationally.” Sally stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Owning a plane? The very concept seemed so far removed from anything she’d ever imagined. “So… you just fly wherever you want? Whenever you want?” she asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. Adrian nodded again, his tone calm, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “It does make things easier.” For a moment, Sally couldn’t find the words. She’d known her father was wealthy, but this was a whole new level. People owned planes? It left her speechless, the reality of his world suddenly feeling even more distant and surreal than ever before. Bridget watched the exchange with a quiet smile, understanding the gap between Sally’s experiences and Adrian’s. “It’s a different world, isn’t it?” she said softly, glancing at Sally, her voice full of gentle acknowledgment. Sally nodded slowly, still processing everything. The realization that her father didn’t just rent planes but owned them deepened the sense of awe and confusion she felt about him. He lived in a world she could barely comprehend—a world of wealth and power that felt so far removed from her own life. And yet, despite the shock, there was a flicker of something else in Sally’s chest. Pride, maybe? Or a strange kind of connection, knowing that she was linked to this world, even if it felt so foreign. She wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but the conversation left her with a lot to think about. For now, she stayed quiet, sipping her coffee, trying to wrap her head around this new layer of understanding about her father. There was so much about him she didn’t know, so much she hadn’t understood. But today, in this small, quiet kitchen, some of the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. Chapter 31 - Business The breakfast table had long since been cleared, but somehow, the conversation between Sally, Bridget, and Adrian had meandered into the early afternoon. Bridget, still casually dressed in jeans and a light sweater, had suggested they move into the living room for coffee. The mood was light, informal—almost as if they were simply catching up after a long time apart, though a subtle tension lingered in the air. Adrian had settled into one of the armchairs, exuding a calm authority, his dark hair and sharp features reminding Sally again just how much she resembled him. It was strange, seeing him here, back in their home after nearly a year, but there was a small comfort in the normality of it all. For a brief moment, things felt almost... ordinary. Bridget passed around cups of coffee, the aroma filling the room, and as she handed one to Adrian, he leaned back slightly, his expression softening. "So, Sally," he began, his voice warm but with that familiar reserved tone, "how are things going? You know, with school and... life in general?" He paused before adding, "I remember your friends—Clara and... Karina?" Sally couldn't help but laugh lightly, shaking her head. "Katrina," she corrected. "You always mix up her name." Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused with himself. "Ah, right. Katrina. How are they doing? You three still causing trouble?" Sally smiled at the playful jab, feeling herself relax slightly. "Yeah, we hang out a lot. Clara and Katrina are still pretty much glued together, and they’ve been busy with their own stuff, but we’re all still close." Adrian nodded, looking genuinely interested, even though there was a hint of distance, as if he was trying to piece together the details of Sally's life. "And how’s school? I remember you were always good at math. Still your favorite subject?" Sally shifted a little in her seat, feeling oddly proud that her father remembered. "Yeah, I’m still into math. It’s going well. I’ve been thinking about taking more advanced classes next year." She paused for a moment, then added, "But I also like art. I’ve been spending more time painting lately." Bridget, listening quietly, smiled softly at this, knowing how much Sally’s art had been helping her express herself lately. She didn’t add anything but simply watched the conversation flow. Adrian took a sip of his coffee, his eyes flickering with mild surprise. "Art? That’s great. I didn’t know you were into painting." His voice was genuinely curious, as if he was learning something new about his daughter. "What do you like to paint?" Sally shrugged a little, not quite sure how to explain it. "It depends. Mostly abstract stuff, I guess. Just... whatever comes to mind." She glanced at Bridget, who gave her an encouraging smile, making her feel a little less self-conscious about it. For a moment, the conversation drifted into lighter topics again, touching on school events, her friends’ latest antics, and small updates about life. The flow felt easy, even if the gap between them all still lingered just below the surface. Then, Adrian leaned forward slightly, placing his coffee cup down on the table. His tone softened, but there was a seriousness to it. "Speaking of updates, I heard about the car accident. The dealership called when they had to replace the car." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at Sally. "You’re okay, right? I mean, it wasn’t too bad, but... that must’ve been a bit scary." Sally’s smile faltered, her body stiffening slightly at the mention of the accident. She quickly glanced at her mother, feeling a rush of unease. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about it—well, maybe she didn’t—but the accident had stirred something deeper in her, something she wasn’t ready to unpack in front of her father. "Yeah," she said quietly, her voice a little flat. "We’re fine. It wasn’t that bad." Adrian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, sensing there was more to it than she was letting on, but before he could press further, Bridget smoothly stepped in, her tone light and casual. "Oh, the car was a total loss," Bridget said, giving a small chuckle, "but we walked away without a scratch. And I must say, we replaced it with a red SUV—Sally’s favorite color." She grinned, gesturing to the large windows that overlooked the driveway where the shiny new vehicle sat. "You should see it. It’s really nice." Adrian’s eyes flicked to the window, catching a glimpse of the new car, and the shift in conversation was enough to pull him away from the topic of the accident. He smiled, looking mildly impressed. "I see. Well, as long as everyone’s alright." Sally breathed a quiet sigh of relief, silently thanking her mother for steering the conversation away from the subject. She wasn’t ready to talk about how the accident had triggered something deeper—how it had made her seek out the comfort and security of her diaper therapy, how the whole event had left her feeling vulnerable in ways she didn’t want to share, especially not with Adrian. The conversation gradually picked back up, meandering through lighter topics again. They talked about the new car for a while, Adrian making a few comments about German engineering and SUVs, and then they returned to more casual banter about school and summer plans. Bridget stood up to refill their cups, offering more coffee as the conversation settled into a more comfortable rhythm. The day wore on, the tension of the morning slowly dissipating, but the weight of unsaid things still lingered in the room—at least for Sally. Even as she smiled and responded to her father’s questions, she knew there was more she wasn’t ready to talk about. But for now, the coffee was warm, and the conversation light, and that was enough. -- As the afternoon sun filtered through the living room windows, casting warm, golden light across the floor, the atmosphere in the room slowly shifted. The informal chatter over coffee had run its course, and there was a lull in the conversation. Sally sat quietly in her usual spot, her hands wrapped around her cup, while Bridget glanced over at Adrian, sensing it was time to address the elephant in the room. Bridget cleared her throat gently, giving Adrian a soft, yet knowing look. “Your assistant mentioned you’ve had an... intense year,” she began, her tone careful but probing. “She didn’t go into details, but I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s been going on, Adrian? It seems like a lot’s changed.” Adrian, who had been leaning back in his chair, paused for a moment. He glanced at Sally, then at Bridget, and for a brief moment, his composed exterior faltered. He set his coffee cup down on the table, running a hand through his dark hair, the weight of the past year suddenly catching up with him. “It has been... a year,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before. There was a heaviness in his words that made both Bridget and Sally sit up a little straighter. “A lot has happened, and I suppose it’s time we talk about it.” Sally looked between her parents, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. She hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a serious turn, and though she had sensed something was off earlier, this sudden shift caught her off guard. She had no idea what her father was about to say, but the look on his face made her anxious. Bridget, sensing Adrian’s hesitation, nodded gently, encouraging him to continue. “Go on, Adrian. It’s time we know what’s been going on.” Adrian took a deep breath, his gaze falling on Sally for a moment before he spoke. “My father passed away last year,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of emotion. “I don’t know if you remember much about him, Sally—he wasn’t around much. But he was... a very private man. Very wealthy. And when he died, he left me his entire estate.” Sally’s eyes widened slightly. She had never known much about her grandfather—he was always this distant, mysterious figure in her father’s life. She had only heard bits and pieces about him over the years, but she had never given it much thought. Now, hearing that he had passed away and left everything to her father... it felt surreal. “His estate?” Bridget asked, leaning forward slightly. “What does that mean, exactly?” Adrian sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “It means everything. His properties, businesses, assets... more money than I had ever realized. I knew he was wealthy, but the sheer scale of his estate was beyond anything I could have imagined. The inheritance process has been... complicated, to say the least. And it’s taken up most of my time this past year.” Sally stared at her father, her mind spinning. The idea that her grandfather had left behind such a vast fortune was difficult enough to grasp, but the fact that her father had been dealing with it for a year without saying anything to her... it felt like a punch to the gut. She wanted to ask why he hadn’t told her, why he had stayed away for so long, but the words got stuck in her throat. Adrian continued, his tone more serious now. “This isn’t just about me, Sally. You’re a part of this too.” Sally blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?” Adrian looked at her, his gaze softening. “The trust fund I set up for you when you were younger—it’s grown significantly. But now, with the inheritance, it’s... well, it’s something else entirely. You’re part of the family estate. When you turn 18, you’ll have access to it.” Sally’s heart raced, her mind struggling to process what he was saying. She had known about the trust fund, of course, but it had always felt like some distant, abstract thing—something she didn’t have to think about until she was older. Now, it felt like a weight being dropped on her shoulders. “How much are we talking about?” Bridget asked, her voice calm but clearly wanting to understand the full picture. Adrian hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly. “Enough that Sally is probably... the richest teenager in America.” The words hung in the air, heavy and disorienting. Sally stared at her father, wide-eyed, her breath catching in her throat. The richest teenager in America? That couldn’t be real. It felt like something out of a movie or a dream—completely detached from her reality. Sally swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “What? That can’t be right.” Adrian gave her a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s true. Between the trust fund I set up for you and what’s been added from the inheritance... well, it’s more money than you can probably imagine.” Sally sat back in her chair, stunned into silence. She didn’t even know how to begin processing that information. Her mind raced, trying to grasp what that actually meant for her life, her future. Did it change anything? Everything? She had always lived comfortably, but this... this was something else entirely. Bridget glanced at Sally, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Sally’s knee, as if trying to ground her daughter in the midst of this overwhelming news. “That’s... a lot to take in, Adrian,” she said softly. Adrian nodded. “I know. And I don’t want you to worry about it now, Sally. You don’t have to make any decisions or do anything with it yet. You’re still young, and when the time comes, we’ll help guide you through it.” Sally finally found her voice, though it was shaky. “So... what does this mean for me? I mean, I don’t know anything about handling that kind of money. I’m just... me.” Adrian leaned forward, his expression softening even more. “It means that you’ll have opportunities most people don’t. It means you’ll be able to do whatever you want—travel, study, build a business if you want to. But it also means there will be responsibilities. There are expectations that come with this kind of wealth, and I want to make sure you’re prepared when the time comes.” Sally’s mind was spinning, her thoughts tangled in a mix of excitement, fear, and confusion. The idea of having that kind of freedom was thrilling, but it also terrified her. She didn’t feel ready for that kind of responsibility. She was just a teenager, and now... she was supposed to be one of the wealthiest people her age? Bridget, sensing Sally’s overwhelm, stepped in again, her voice calm and reassuring. “Sally, nothing has to change right now. You’re still the same person you were this morning. You don’t have to let this define you. It’s just something that’s there, and when you’re ready, we’ll help you figure it out.” Sally nodded slowly, her mind still buzzing. “Yeah, I guess... I just don’t know what to think.” Adrian gave her a sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to have it all figured out now. This isn’t something you need to handle alone. I’ve had to deal with this kind of wealth for years, and I’m still learning. The important thing is that you have time to grow into it.” Sally bit her lip, her thoughts racing. The weight of the inheritance, the trust fund, the implications of being so wealthy—it all felt like too much to carry at once. But as she looked at her father, she could see that he wasn’t just dumping this on her and walking away. For the first time in a long while, he was present, and he was offering to help her navigate this strange new world. She hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly, “So... does this mean I can buy my own car next year? When I turn 16?” Adrian blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden change in topic, but then he laughed—a rare, genuine laugh that caught both Bridget and Sally off guard. “Yes, Sally, you can buy your own car. Any car you want.” Sally grinned, a spark of excitement cutting through the tension. “I want a Mustang.” Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly perplexed. “A Mustang? Why a Mustang?” Without missing a beat, Sally smiled wider and started singing softly, “Mustang Sally, guess you better slow your Mustang down...” She laughed lightly, seeing her father’s confused expression. “It’s not just about the car, Dad. It’s about the feeling. The fun.” You could have something more... practical. How about a G-Class instead?" He shrugged slightly, his tone casual but clearly leaning toward his own preferences. "It’s comfortable, powerful—German engineering at its finest." Sally blinked at him, her smile faltering for a moment as she processed the suggestion. "A G-Class?" she asked, clearly unfamiliar with the model. "What’s that?" Adrian gave a small, amused sigh and gestured with his hand. "Google it. I think you’d like it." Sally pulled out her phone, quickly typing in "G-Class" into the search bar. As the images popped up on her screen, she stared at the bulky, boxy shape of the car, clearly unimpressed. "This looks... huge," she said, wrinkling her nose. "It’s like something a bodyguard would drive." Bridget giggled softly from the couch, adding her own playful suggestion. "Or how about a Bentley, darling? If we’re going all out, might as well go for the real luxury." Sally groaned and laughed at the same time, shaking her head. "Mom, I’m 16, not 60!" she retorted, unable to hold back her amusement. Adrian leaned back, clearly amused but still processing the idea of his daughter wanting something so different from what he’d envisioned for her. "Well, if a Mustang is what you really want, then a Mustang it is." The lighthearted exchange had done its job, easing the tension just enough for Sally to relax again. But as the playful banter died down, the weight of the earlier conversation slowly crept back into the room. There was still more to discuss, more to understand about what all of this meant for Sally’s future. Sally took a deep breath, the lightness fading from her face as her thoughts returned to the overwhelming reality of her situation. She glanced at her mother, then at Adrian, her voice a bit quieter now. "So... what does all of this really mean for me? I mean, I know there’s a trust fund, but what are the expectations? What do I have to do?" Adrian leaned forward slightly, his expression serious but compassionate. "Sally, you don’t have to do anything right now. The trust fund is there to give you security and opportunities when you’re older. When you turn 18, you’ll have more access to it, but it’s important that you’re prepared for the responsibility that comes with it." Sally nodded, but her brow was still furrowed with uncertainty. "But what kind of responsibility? I don’t even know how to handle money like that. And... what if I don’t want it to change anything?" Bridget, sensing her daughter’s anxiety, reached over and gently touched her hand. "Sally, it doesn’t have to change anything about who you are. Money doesn’t define you. It’s just a tool, something that can give you more freedom and options later on. But you’ll still be the same person, and we’ll make sure you’re ready for it when the time comes." Adrian nodded in agreement, his tone measured but reassuring. "Exactly. You’ll have support. I’ll help guide you through it, and so will your mother. You don’t have to figure it all out on your own." Sally’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a hint of apprehension in her voice. "It just feels... like a lot. I mean, I don’t know if I want people to see me differently because of this. I’ve always just been... me." Bridget gave her a warm, understanding smile. "And you’ll always be you, sweetheart. Money doesn’t change who you are unless you let it. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and we’ll make sure this doesn’t overwhelm you. It’s just something that’s there, and we’ll navigate it together." Adrian added, his voice a little softer now, "And it’s important to remember that while this wealth gives you opportunities, it also comes with challenges. People may expect things from you, or they might see you differently. But you’ll learn how to manage that. You’ll have control over your own life, and you can choose how to handle this responsibility." Sally nodded slowly, the weight of their words sinking in. She could feel the enormity of what they were telling her, but she also felt a small sense of relief knowing she wouldn’t have to navigate this alone. She would have support. She wouldn’t be thrust into this world without guidance. "So... what about all the business stuff?" Sally asked, her curiosity growing. "Is that part of it too? I mean, the inheritance from Grandpa... does that mean I have to get involved with all of that?" Adrian hesitated for a moment before answering. "Not necessarily. The businesses are being managed by professionals, and they’ll continue to operate as they always have. But if, one day, you’re interested in being more involved, the opportunity will be there for you." Sally bit her lip, thinking it over. "And what if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want to be involved in any of it?" Adrian’s gaze softened, and he leaned back again, giving her space to process. "That’s entirely up to you. You’re not obligated to do anything with the family businesses if it’s not what you want. This wealth is about giving you choices, not locking you into a specific path." Bridget nodded, offering further reassurance. "You’ll have the freedom to decide, Sally. Whether it’s following your own passions, like art or whatever else comes your way, or taking a more active role in the family’s estate—whatever you choose, we’ll support you." Sally took a deep breath, feeling the overwhelming pressure lift just a little. It was a lot to take in, but at least now she understood the scope of it. She wasn’t being forced into a particular mold. She wasn’t trapped by expectations she hadn’t asked for. Instead, she had choices, options, and time to figure out what she wanted. "But it still feels like... a lot of responsibility," she said quietly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. Adrian nodded, understanding her concern. "It is. But that’s why we’re here to help you through it. You don’t have to carry that responsibility alone." Sally sat back in her chair, her mind buzzing with the implications of everything she had just learned. The trust fund, the inheritance, the freedom to choose her path—it all felt so much bigger than anything she had imagined for herself. But for now, she took comfort in knowing that she had her parents’ support, and that she wouldn’t be facing this alone. As the conversation settled into a quiet lull, Bridget stood up, offering to refill their coffee cups. Sally watched her mother move across the room, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. The future was still wide open, and while it was overwhelming, she couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope. Whatever came next, at least she knew she wouldn’t have to face it alone. -- As the evening settled into a calm quiet, Bridget made her way upstairs, her thoughts lingering on the day's events. Adrian had been picked up and taken to his hotel, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of all that had been said and unsaid. It had been an overwhelming day for Sally, and Bridget wanted to check in on her daughter before bed. Pushing the door open slightly, Bridget peeked inside. Sally was standing by her dresser, carefully unfolding a fresh diaper, going through the familiar motions of her nighttime routine. Bridget paused, watching for a moment. Despite everything they had talked about today—the trust fund, the responsibilities, the future—here was Sally, still her daughter, still looking for the comfort and security she needed. Bridget smiled warmly and stepped into the room. “Well, if it isn’t my Pampered Princess,” she said, her voice filled with playful affection. Sally turned around, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Pampered Princess?” she repeated with mock surprise. “Since when did I get that title?” Bridget chuckled and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Since your father informed us that you’re one of the richest teenagers in the country. I figured it suits you now.” Sally laughed lightly, shaking her head as she finished securing the diaper around her waist. “Great, just what I needed—a nickname that screams ‘spoiled.’” Bridget’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked her daughter up and down. “It’s not about being spoiled. It’s more about how you manage to stay so... grounded, despite everything.” Sally raised an eyebrow as she tugged her oversized t-shirt down. “Grounded? In a diaper?” Bridget grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, grounded and pampered, apparently. You’re allowed to have both, you know.” Sally rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sure the business world will really appreciate that perspective.” Bridget leaned forward, placing a hand on Sally’s knee. “Sweetie, you’re allowed to be you, no matter how big the responsibilities are or what people expect from you. You don’t have to change who you are just because of what’s been handed to you.” Sally sat down on the bed next to her mother, her tone turning more serious as the weight of the day’s conversations came rushing back. “It just feels weird,” she admitted. “Like, how am I supposed to handle all of this? One minute I’m just... me, and the next minute I’m supposed to be dealing with trust funds and businesses. It’s like there are two versions of me.” Bridget nodded, her expression softening with understanding. “It is a lot. But you don’t have to figure it all out right away. You’re still you, and nothing changes that. You don’t have to let the money or the responsibilities define who you are. You get to decide that.” Sally sighed, her hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “It’s just hard to wrap my head around. I don’t want it to change everything. I mean, I like my life the way it is.” Bridget smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Sally’s ear. “And it doesn’t have to change everything. Sure, there will be decisions to make down the road, but you don’t have to rush into anything. You’re still the same Sally you were yesterday, and you’ll still be the same Sally tomorrow.” Sally bit her lip, a mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside her. “But what if I’m not ready for all of this? What if I can’t handle it?” Bridget’s hand gently squeezed her daughter’s knee. “You’re going to learn, Sally. You’ve always been good with math, with problem-solving. If you want to, you can understand the financial side of things. You’re smart and capable, and you’ll have help when the time comes. But remember, none of this defines you. You’re still allowed to be a teenager, to figure things out at your own pace.” Sally looked down at her hands, still feeling the weight of the unknown. “It’s just... a lot to think about. Dad kept talking about businesses and the estate, and I don’t even know what half of it means.” Bridget smiled softly. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to know everything right now. Your dad and I will be here to guide you. You’ll learn what you need to when the time is right. For now, it’s enough to know that you have options. You have the ability to choose what you want to do with your future.” Sally leaned back on her pillows, letting out a long sigh. “So, I can still be a Pampered Princess?” Bridget chuckled, her eyes full of affection. “Absolutely. You can be a Pampered Princess who takes charge when she’s ready.” Sally smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “It’s just... weird to think about how different things could be. Like, I’m still going to be the same person, right?” Bridget leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Of course, you will be. Money and responsibility might change some things, but they don’t change who you are at your core. You’ll always be my Sally.” Sally nodded slowly, feeling a sense of comfort in her mother’s words. “Thanks, Mom. I’m just trying to figure out how to balance it all, I guess. The idea of managing all of this one day, but also... still being me.” Bridget stood up, giving Sally’s knee one last gentle squeeze. “You’ll find that balance, sweetie. You’ll grow into it, and when the time comes, you’ll be ready. But for now, you’re allowed to take things one step at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers today.” Sally smiled, the weight of the day slowly lifting from her chest. “I guess I’m lucky I’ve got a mom who lets me be a Pampered Princess.” Bridget grinned, her eyes twinkling with pride. “Always, sweetie. Goodnight, my Pampered Princess.” Sally snuggled into her blankets, the soft rustle of her diaper comforting her as she settled in for the night. “Goodnight, Mom.” As Bridget closed the door behind her, Sally lay back in the quiet of her room, feeling a sense of peace she hadn’t expected. The future might still be uncertain, and the responsibilities might still feel overwhelming, but for tonight, she was content. She was allowed to be herself, to embrace the contradictions that made her who she was—a girl who could be both grounded and pampered, both responsible and still figuring things out. And as she drifted off to sleep, she knew that whatever came next, she didn’t have to face it alone. She had her mother’s support, her own sense of self, and time to grow into whatever her future would hold. Chapter 32 - Lunch Sally stood in front of her bedroom mirror, checking her outfit one last time. Her black skirt hugged her waist perfectly, stopping just above her knees, while the silver blouse shimmered subtly in the light. She’d paired it with black tights and ankle boots, the outfit stylish without being too formal. Today’s lunch with her father felt different—more grown-up, more serious. After everything she’d learned yesterday about the trust fund, the businesses, and the weight of the family legacy, she wanted to make sure she looked the part. Satisfied with her reflection, she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs. Adrian was waiting by the door, as composed as ever in a tailored navy suit. His eyes lit up as he saw her. “You look lovely, Sally,” he said, his smile warm. “Very grown-up.” “Thanks, Dad,” Sally replied with a small smile. His compliment gave her a surge of pride, but she couldn’t shake the nerves fluttering in her stomach. There was so much to discuss today, and Sally wasn’t sure how to start. They stepped into the car, driving through the busy weekend streets. As the city buzzed with life outside, the silence inside the car felt weighty, filled with the unspoken thoughts Sally had been carrying since their conversation the day before. Her father, Adrian, had laid out the foundations—she was one of the wealthiest teenagers in the country, and there was a trust fund waiting for her, filled with assets she had never even considered. But today, she wanted to dig deeper. The restaurant Adrian chose was elegant and intimate, the kind where conversation felt private despite the gentle hum of patrons around them. Art adorned the walls, and soft, ambient lighting gave the space a calm yet sophisticated atmosphere. A waiter seated them near a large window that overlooked the bustling street outside, the crisp white linens on the table adding to the understated elegance. After glancing through the menu, Sally settled on the lemon ricotta ravioli. It sounded delicate and comforting, a contrast to the weight of her thoughts. "I’ll have the seared tuna, rare," Adrian told the waiter as they handed over their menus. Once the waiter left, Adrian looked across the table at Sally, his expression both warm and curious. "So, Sally," he began, leaning back slightly. "I imagine you’ve had a lot on your mind since yesterday. How are you feeling about everything we talked about?" Sally let out a small breath, knowing this was the moment to start asking the questions that had been swirling around her head all night. "Honestly, it’s a lot. I didn’t even realize how much there was involved... I knew there was a trust fund, but I didn’t know about all the other stuff—like the businesses and properties. It’s overwhelming." Adrian nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "That’s completely understandable. That’s why we’re taking it slow. Tomorrow, we’ll meet with Olivia, and she’ll give you a full breakdown of everything. She’ll be your guide through all of this." “Olivia?” Sally asked, intrigued. “Who is she?” Adrian smiled, clearly pleased to explain. “Olivia Lewis. She’s been managing my finances and the family’s investments for years now. She’s not just a financial advisor—she’s a mentor, and she’ll help you understand everything at your own pace. Olivia’s very thorough and patient. She’ll show you how the trust works, how the assets are managed, and she’ll guide you as you grow into this responsibility.” Sally’s tension eased a bit at the mention of someone like Olivia being involved. It was good to know she wouldn’t have to figure everything out on her own. But there was still so much more to unpack. "Okay," Sally nodded, taking a breath. "But what exactly do I own? You mentioned real estate yesterday… What kind of places are we talking about?" Adrian’s eyes lit up slightly as he began to explain. "There’s quite a bit of real estate in your trust. In New York, you own apartments on the Upper East Side, in Chelsea, and in SoHo." At the mention of SoHo, Sally’s eyes widened, and she sat up straighter. "Wait, SoHo? I own an apartment in SoHo?" Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her excitement. "You like SoHo?" Sally laughed softly, shaking her head. "I love SoHo! It’s my favorite part of the city—the galleries, the shops, the vibe. I always thought if I lived in New York, that’s where I’d want to be." Adrian smiled, pleased to learn something new about his daughter. "Well, it seems like we made a good investment then. The apartment is currently rented out, but it’s part of your portfolio. Olivia will go over all the details with you tomorrow." Sally’s mind raced at the thought. Owning an apartment in SoHo—her dream neighborhood—was surreal. But her father wasn’t done yet. “In addition to the New York properties, you also own real estate in Europe,” Adrian continued. “There’s an apartment in Paris, another in London, and a townhouse in Zurich.” Sally blinked, trying to process it all. "I own apartments in Paris and London?" she repeated, incredulously. "And Zurich?" Adrian chuckled softly at her surprise. "Yes, you do. They’re all rented out at the moment, so they’re generating income for the trust. But once you’re older, you can decide how you want to use them—whether you want to keep them as investments or do something else with them." Sally’s mind reeled at the possibilities. She had been imagining an inheritance of money or perhaps investments, but owning properties in some of the most iconic cities in the world felt far more personal—and exciting. But with all this, a nagging thought gnawed at her, and she finally voiced it. "So... do you expect me to take over the businesses one day? Is that what this is all leading to?" Adrian leaned back in his chair, taking a moment before answering. "No, Sally. I don’t expect that from you unless it’s something you want. The businesses are being managed professionally, and they’ll continue to run smoothly without your direct involvement. This is about giving you choices. If you want to be involved one day, you can. But if not, that’s perfectly fine. You’re free to choose your own path, whether it’s in business or something else entirely." Sally exhaled, relieved that she wasn’t locked into a future she hadn’t chosen. "So, I’m not being groomed to be a businesswoman if I don’t want to be?" "No," Adrian reassured her. "This is your life, Sally. You get to decide what path you want to take. If business isn’t your passion, that’s okay. There’s room for whatever you choose." She felt a bit lighter at that, but there was still one question that had been bothering her all night—the one about herself, and how all of this would change her. "How do I make sure this doesn’t change who I am?" she asked softly. "I don’t want people to think I’m just some rich kid who’s had everything handed to her. And I don’t want to lose myself in all of this wealth and responsibility." Adrian’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, gently resting his hand on hers. "Sally, wealth doesn’t have to define you. It’s a tool that gives you options and freedom, but it doesn’t determine who you are. The fact that you’re asking this question shows you’re already grounded. Stay true to your values, your interests, and who you are at heart. The wealth gives you opportunities, but it’s your decisions that will shape the future you want." Sally nodded, appreciating his words, but she couldn’t ignore the next question that had been sitting at the back of her mind for far too long. "Why don’t we see each other more often?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "You’re always so busy... why didn’t you visit more when I was younger?" Adrian looked down for a moment, his face more serious now. "That’s a fair question, Sally," he said softly. "I know I owe you a real answer. But it’s not something I want to rush through here. How about this—come visit me in Switzerland in a couple of weeks. We can spend more time together, and I’ll explain everything then." Sally blinked, surprised. "Switzerland? You’ve never invited me before." Adrian smiled, a little apologetic. "I know. It’s long overdue. Let’s make up for lost time." Sally considered his invitation, feeling both excited and a little anxious. Switzerland had always felt like this distant, unreachable place—her father’s other life. But now, it seemed like a real possibility, a chance to connect with him in a new way. As they finished their meal, the conversation lightened. Adrian asked about her friends, her favorite classes, and her love for SoHo. He listened attentively, clearly enjoying learning more about her world. Their coffee arrived, and they continued talking about school, art, and the future. But as they finished and stood to leave the restaurant, Sally couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that was yet to come. Tomorrow’s meeting with Olivia would be important, and there was so much more to learn. As they stepped out into the bustling city streets, Sally glanced up at her father. "Thanks, Dad. For... everything," she said, her voice soft but sincere. Adrian smiled down at her, his expression warm. "You’re welcome, Sally. We’re in this together." And as they walked down the busy street, Sally felt a strange mix of excitement and responsibility settling inside her. There was a lot to figure out, but for the first time, she felt like she wasn’t alone in it. There was her father, and soon Olivia, to help her navigate this new world. And she was ready to face whatever came next. -- Sally's Bedtime Recap - Pampered Princess The evening had settled into a calm quiet by the time Sally returned home from her lunch with her father. The soft, fading light filtered through the windows as she walked upstairs to her room, her thoughts buzzing from the day’s conversations. It had been a day full of revelations—some exciting, others overwhelming—but Sally felt a strange sense of peace now, almost like she was growing into this new reality. Bridget was sitting on Sally's bed when she entered, folding laundry, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Well, well,” her mother said, glancing up. “How was lunch with Mr. Zurich himself? Did he spoil you?” Sally rolled her eyes with a smirk. “We talked about more than just shopping and fancy food, Mom.” “I’m sure you did, Miss Trust Fund.” Bridget teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Come on, spill the details. I want to hear everything before you drift off to your pampered dreams.” Sally laughed as she kicked off her ankle boots and unbuttoned her silver blouse, tossing it onto a chair. Underneath, she was still in her bra and panties, feeling both exposed and comfortable in front of her mother. “Okay, fine. But fair warning, it got pretty serious. Dad gave me this whole overview of my trust fund and... I own real estate.” She paused for dramatic effect, looking over at her mom. Bridget raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Real estate? Are we talking like a quaint little cottage in the woods?” Sally shook her head, trying to contain her excitement. “No! I own apartments. In New York, London, Paris... and SoHo!” Bridget's eyes widened as she pulled out a neatly folded towel. “SoHo? Oh, la-di-da. I see we’ve got ourselves a real city girl on our hands. Soon you’ll be hosting swanky art gallery shows and sipping champagne on the terrace.” Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, maybe? Olivia—she’s this financial advisor Dad works with—is supposed to help me understand how everything works. We’re meeting her tomorrow in New York, actually.” Bridget smiled knowingly, but this time with a softer edge. “Trump Tower, right?” Sally blinked, surprised. “Wait... how do you know that?” “Your father and I talked about it last night while you were asleep,” Bridget said casually, folding another piece of laundry. “Of course I should know what’s going on with you. We’re a team, your dad and I.” Sally paused, processing this. She hadn’t realized her mom had been filled in on everything so quickly, but it made sense. Bridget had always been her rock, the one who knew everything before Sally even had to ask. “So you’ve been talking to Dad about all this since yesterday?” Sally asked, a note of curiosity in her voice as she unhooked her bra, tossing it onto the chair beside her blouse. “Yes,” Bridget said with a warm smile. “He called me right after you went to bed. He wanted me to be up to speed on what’s going on with your trust fund, your meeting tomorrow, everything. You’re not facing this alone, Sally. You’ve got both of us.” Sally felt a warm flush of emotion at her mother’s words. Bridget always knew how to make her feel protected, even when everything around her was changing so fast. She took off her panties, feeling the cool air for a moment before grabbing a fresh diaper from her dresser. She laid it on the bed, her mind buzzing between thoughts of tomorrow’s meeting and the comfort of her mother’s presence. “That’s a relief,” Sally said, trying to shake off the overwhelming feeling as she unfolded the diaper. “I was beginning to think you had some kind of psychic power, knowing everything before I did.” “Mothers have a way of knowing,” Bridget replied with a teasing wink, though the love in her eyes was clear. “And besides, we both want to make sure you’re ready for what’s coming. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Sally laughed again as she positioned the diaper beneath herself, adjusting it carefully. “Yeah, no kidding. It feels like... a lot. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I own apartments in SoHo and Paris.” Bridget’s teasing smile softened as she watched Sally go through the familiar motions. “It is a lot. But you’re handling it beautifully. You’ve always been good at navigating big changes. Just take it one step at a time, and don’t worry about knowing everything right away.” Sally smiled as she fastened the diaper, the soft crinkle making her feel instantly grounded. “Thanks, Mom. Honestly, I’m glad you know about all this. I don’t feel so... overwhelmed, I guess.” “Of course I know,” Bridget said as she stood and helped Sally adjust the sides more comfortably. “I’m your mother. I’m here for you, no matter how big the changes are. Whether it’s trust funds or life decisions, we’re in this together.” Sally laughed, the familiar sound of the diaper crinkling around her as she moved. “Yeah, well, at least I’ve got this bedtime routine. After all the serious stuff today, it feels good to just have something that’s... simple.” Bridget smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Sally’s ear. “Simple, huh? Even if that something is a diaper?” Sally groaned, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay, don’t make it weird. But yeah, it helps me feel grounded.” “I get it,” Bridget said softly, her smile filled with warmth. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re still my same girl, whether you’re talking about trust funds or getting ready for bed. And hey, ‘Pampered Princess’ suits you.” Sally groaned, her laughter bubbling up as she pulled down her t-shirt, the crinkling sound of her diaper punctuating the moment. “I can’t believe you’re sticking with that nickname.” “Well, it’s hard to resist,” Bridget teased, crossing her arms and leaning against the dresser. “I mean, who else gets to have serious conversations about real estate and then go to bed in a diaper? You’ve got quite the unique balance going on.” Sally laughed, shaking her head as she stood up and stretched. “Yeah, I guess I do. It’s a weird mix, but it’s kind of... nice, too. Like, I can still just be me, even with everything changing.” Bridget’s smile softened further as she looked at her daughter. “Exactly. And don’t forget, your dad and I are right here with you, helping you figure it out. Tomorrow’s a big day, but you don’t have to face it alone.” Sally felt a deep warmth settle in her chest as she started brushing her hair. “Thanks, Mom. I needed that.” Bridget moved toward the door, turning back with a gentle smile. “You’ll do great tomorrow. Sleep well, Pampered Princess.” Sally chuckled, shaking her head. “Goodnight, Mom.” As the door clicked shut, Sally sank into the familiar comfort of her bed, pulling the blankets up over her. She lay there for a moment, thinking about her father, Olivia, and Trump Tower. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, reminding her of the love and support surrounding her. She let out a soft breath as the warmth of her diaper enveloped her, and without much thought, she felt herself relax completely, the familiar sensation of wetting her diaper bringing a quiet sense of comfort. It was the last release of tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. With her diaper softly crinkling beneath her, Sally drifted off into sweet, peaceful dreams, her mind at ease knowing that, whatever tomorrow brought, she had her mother’s love and her father’s support to guide her. Tomorrow was another day—an important one—but for now, she was safe, secure, and loved. -- Sally woke slowly, the morning light casting a soft glow through her curtains. She stretched lazily under her blankets, feeling the familiar warmth and dampness between her legs. Her diaper was wet, but instead of feeling the urge to change right away, she smiled. There was no need to rush. She shifted slightly, feeling the soft, heavy padding press against her skin. The sensation was comforting, the weight of it familiar and soothing. Her hand instinctively wandered down to rest on the front of her diaper, and she gave it a gentle press, listening to the faint crinkle in the stillness of her room. Closing her eyes, Sally let her body relax, a mischievous smile creeping onto her lips. "Why not?" she thought to herself, allowing the warmth to spread through her as she wet her diaper a little more. The sensation was slow and calming, the padding swelling even further as it absorbed the new wetness. She sighed, a wave of comfort washing over her. After a few moments, Sally lifted the blanket and looked down at herself, her curiosity piqued. Her diaper was full, the wetness indicator having faded entirely, and the bulkiness made it feel even snugger against her body. She ran her fingers over the front, pressing gently, feeling the soft squish beneath her touch. It was strangely satisfying, comforting in a way that grounded her in the moment. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she continued pressing lightly, enjoying the sensation. And then, almost without thinking, she whispered to herself, “Good girl.” The words sent a small, unexpected jolt through her body. Her breath caught, and she paused, the feeling leaving her slightly breathless. She pressed a little harder, her heart fluttering as a deeper wave of pleasure surged up through her, the warmth of her wet diaper heightening the sensation. The pressure of her fingers, combined with the gentle crinkling sound, made her body tingle. “Nice baby,” she murmured under her breath, her voice soft but filled with an edge of excitement. Another shiver of pleasure ran through her, more intense this time, her body responding to the words in a way that surprised her. She bit her lip, her heart beating faster, enjoying the quiet thrill. Feeling bolder, Sally whispered again, her voice barely audible, “Little princess...” The words, combined with the sensations coursing through her, sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through her entire body. Her muscles tensed, her breath quickened, and for a brief moment, she felt a peak of intense, almost overwhelming satisfaction. Sally gasped softly, her fingers resting still on her diaper as she let the feeling wash over her. Her body relaxed again, the aftershocks of pleasure fading slowly, leaving her feeling calm and content. She let out a long, slow breath, a smile spreading across her face. “Pampered Princess,” she whispered with a giggle, recalling her mother’s teasing nickname from the night before. The words felt right, and Sally reveled in the warmth of the moment, the comfort of her wet diaper and the soft crinkling sound surrounding her. She closed her eyes, snuggling deeper into her blankets, feeling the weight of her diaper as it pressed against her. For a few more moments, she let herself stay there, basking in the warmth and satisfaction. The day could wait. Right now, she was content, safe, and filled with a sense of calm and quiet pleasure. With a final, contented sigh, Sally allowed herself to drift back into the peaceful comfort of the morning, her mind at ease, her body relaxed. Whatever the day brought, she felt ready to face it—but for now, she was happy right where she was. -- Sally had drifted back to sleep after her indulgent morning moment, feeling a deep sense of comfort and warmth cocooning her. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep again when she felt a soft nudge on her shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead,” her mother’s voice rang out, gentle yet playful. “Time to get up. Breakfast is almost ready.” Sally blinked her eyes open, her mind still hazy from the cozy dreamlike state. She stretched lazily, feeling the familiar crinkle of her diaper beneath the blankets. Her mother stood by the side of the bed, her hands on her hips, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Come on, Pampered Princess,” Bridget teased, pulling back the blankets. “You’ve got a busy day ahead. Olivia and Trump Tower, remember?” Sally smiled sleepily, the nickname making her chuckle as she slowly sat up. Her diaper was still warm, heavier now from earlier, and she blushed a little, knowing her mother would soon notice. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, Bridget leaned down, playfully poking her daughter’s diapered waist. “Seems like you did all your ‘business’ overnight,” Bridget said with a chuckle, clearly poking fun at Sally’s upcoming meeting. “Our little businesswoman making deals in her sleep.” Sally blushed, feeling both embarrassed and amused. “Mom...” she groaned, though she couldn’t help but laugh. Bridget winked at her, not missing a beat. “I’ll clean you up after breakfast. For now, you can enjoy your royal status for a little longer, Pampered Princess.” She gave the front of Sally’s diaper a light, playful pat. “Good girl.” The words, so casually said, sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure through Sally’s body. She froze for a split second, biting her lip as the familiar tingle ran down her spine. Her mother, oblivious to the effect it had on her, turned toward the door, beckoning her to follow. “Come on, good girl,” Bridget called back, her tone light and teasing. “Let’s get some breakfast in you before we tackle that diaper situation.” Sally stood, feeling the weight of her wet diaper as she shifted on her feet. The crinkling sound accompanied her as she moved, making her all the more aware of her state. She chuckled softly to herself, still replaying her mother’s playful words. There was something oddly thrilling about being teased like this, even if Bridget had no idea how much her words affected her. She padded down the hallway after her mother, the warmth of the morning sun filtering in through the windows, casting a soft glow over the house. The smell of breakfast filled the air, making her stomach rumble. As they entered the kitchen, Bridget was already setting the table, humming to herself. Sally sat down, adjusting her seat as her wet diaper squished slightly beneath her. Her mother glanced at her with a knowing smile, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You know,” Bridget said as she poured coffee, “I think it’s quite fitting that our little businesswoman still needs a bit of pampering.” Sally rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Mom, you’re really loving this whole ‘Pampered Princess’ thing, huh?” “Oh, absolutely,” Bridget grinned, handing Sally a plate. “It suits you. Besides, you’re still my little girl, even if you’re about to start making big decisions with Olivia.” Sally smiled, her heart warmed by her mother’s playful affection. The teasing was lighthearted, but it made her feel loved, cared for—like no matter how much her life was changing, some things remained the same. Chapter 33 – Growth Spurt After breakfast, the energy in the house shifted as Sally and Bridget moved into the living room to prepare for the day ahead. With her upcoming trip into New York looming, Sally felt a bit nervous, knowing she’d be meeting Olivia for the first time. It was a big deal, and she wanted to look the part. But as always, her mother’s presence was a steadying force. Bridget sat on the couch, sipping her coffee, while Sally flopped down on the floor, stretching out lazily. “So, what are we thinking for the trip?” Bridget asked casually, setting her mug down on the coffee table. “You need to look stylish but also comfortable enough to get through the day. We’ve got a lot to tackle.” Sally hummed thoughtfully, her fingers brushing through the soft carpet. “Yeah, I want to look good... like I have everything together, you know?” She sat up, glancing at her mother. “I was thinking maybe jeans and a nice top? Something elegant but not too dressy.” Bridget nodded sagely, but then her expression turned serious as she leaned in slightly. “Well, you’ll also need to consider your, um, other... accessories.” Sally blinked, confused. “Other accessories? Like jewelry?” Bridget shook her head, her tone remaining straight-faced. “No, sweetie. I meant your diaper. You’ll want to make sure it’s hidden. Maybe a dress to cover the bulkiness?” Sally stared at her mother, wide-eyed, her brain trying to process what had just been said. “Wait... what? A dress to... hide the diaper?” Bridget’s expression remained completely neutral. “Yes, you don’t want people noticing, do you? A dress would be perfect for that, flowy enough to cover everything.” For a moment, Sally stared at her mother, her mind racing. Was her mom serious? Then, slowly, it dawned on her. “Wait... you’re kidding, right?” Sally asked, her face breaking into a grin. Bridget raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back her amusement. “Am I?” That was all it took. Sally burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, Mom! You had me for a second!” She fell back onto the floor, rolling with laughter. “A dress to hide my diaper? Really?” Bridget finally broke into a wide grin, laughing with her daughter. “Hey, I’m just thinking about your comfort, Pampered Princess. We’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.” Sally, still giggling uncontrollably, sat up again and wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, if we’re going all in, I think we should add a few more accessories. I mean, my pacifier would really pull the whole look together, don’t you think? Maybe even my sippy cup—hydration and comfort, all in one.” Bridget didn’t miss a beat. “You’re absolutely right. And don’t forget the plastic panties. A must for any well-dressed princess on a big day out.” Sally laughed even harder, practically falling over again. “I can’t! This is too much!” The two of them shared a long moment of laughter, the joking and teasing lifting the mood and easing any lingering tension Sally had been feeling about the upcoming trip. Finally, as their laughter subsided, Bridget leaned back against the couch, wiping a smile from her face. “Okay, okay,” she said, catching her breath. “In all seriousness, what are you really thinking about wearing? It’s important you feel good in whatever you choose.” Sally sat up, her smile softening as the conversation shifted to something more practical. “Yeah, I was thinking... maybe my black tight jeans? They’re really flattering but still comfortable. And a loose white sweater—it’s thin enough to show some shape, but it’s not going to draw too much attention.” Bridget nodded thoughtfully, her motherly gaze sweeping over Sally’s figure as she considered the outfit. “That sounds perfect. Classy, stylish, but not trying too hard. You’ll look elegant, and most importantly, you’ll feel confident.” Sally smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “Exactly. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to look like I don’t care.” Bridget stood up, stretching her arms. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. You’ll look amazing, and more importantly, you’re going to do great with Olivia. Just be yourself.” Sally nodded, feeling her nerves settle a little more. “Thanks, Mom.” She glanced down at the carpet, still thinking about the pacifier joke and smiled to herself. “No pacifier, though. Not this time.” Bridget chuckled, walking toward the door. “Maybe next time.” With the outfit settled and her nerves at ease, Sally felt more ready than ever to take on the day—and maybe even find a way to slip in a bit of that Pampered Princess confidence into her wardrobe. -- Sally stood in front of her closet, her outfit already picked out in her mind. The black tight jeans hung neatly on the hanger, and the soft, loose white sweater was draped over the back of her chair. It was exactly what she and her mom had agreed on—elegant but not overdone, stylish without drawing too much attention. She would look put together, confident, and more importantly, grown-up. But as she reached for her jeans, she felt a twinge of uncertainty. Her hand hovered over the fabric, and without even thinking, her gaze drifted to the bottom drawer of her dresser. It was the drawer where she kept her Goodnites—those discreet pull-ups designed for older kids and teens who still needed a bit of protection at night. They weren’t as bulky as diapers, but they had always provided her with a comforting sense of security, especially when she was feeling anxious. And right now, she was feeling anxious. Sally chewed her lip as she stared at the drawer, the familiar tug of desire pulling at her. The thought of wearing a Goodnite under her jeans was tempting. She wouldn’t have to worry about finding a bathroom at an awkward time or dealing with the stress of a long meeting. The softness, the slight bulk between her legs—it always made her feel safe, grounded, like she didn’t have to worry about anything. It wasn’t just about the practical side of it, though. There was something deeper, something emotional about the attachment she had to them. Wearing a diaper or Goodnite had always been more than just protection. It was about comfort. It was about feeling secure in a way that no regular clothing could provide. The snug fit, the way it hugged her body, the crinkling sound when she moved—there was something soothing in all of it. It made her feel like she didn’t have to face the world alone, like there was a small barrier between her and everything else. A soft, quiet protection that only she knew about. "No one would even notice," she thought to herself. Her black jeans were tight, but not too tight, and the loose sweater would easily hide any sign of the Goodnite underneath. She could slip one on and feel that familiar comfort all day long. No bathroom worries, no awkward moments. Just that gentle, calming pressure she had grown so attached to. She sighed softly, her fingers brushing against the drawer handle. "It would be so easy..." Her mind started to wander back to the feelings she associated with wearing them—the slight bulk that made her feel wrapped in a sense of safety, the quiet crinkle that reminded her she was protected, even when things got stressful. It was like having a secret armor, something soft and reassuring that no one else knew about. And right now, with the day ahead filled with unknowns, meetings, and formal conversations, that feeling sounded more tempting than ever. But then, Sally stopped herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hand dropping back to her side. "No," she thought, shaking her head slightly. "I can’t keep relying on this." Her mom had helped her pick out an outfit that would make her feel mature and put-together. Wearing a Goodnite, even though it would bring her comfort, felt like a step backward. She was supposed to be growing up, taking on more responsibility, and part of that meant facing her anxiety without leaning on crutches like this. She had to trust that she could handle the day, the meetings, and everything else without needing that extra layer of protection. "I need to dress like the person I want to be," she reminded herself, thinking about the way her father had spoken to her, the way Olivia would see her. If she was going to step into this new world, she needed to feel like she belonged in it. And while the idea of wearing something soft and padded under her jeans was tempting, it wouldn’t give her the confidence she needed. Not really. Sally sighed again, glancing back at the black jeans hanging in her closet. "I can do this," she told herself. "I don’t need to hide behind Goodnites or diapers to feel safe. I can be okay without them." It wasn’t easy, though. The pull was strong. The desire for that comforting, familiar feeling of something snug and bulky beneath her clothes was something she had grown attached to over time. The sense of security they brought her was hard to let go of. But she knew this was part of growing up—learning to manage her anxiety, learning to face the world without needing that extra layer of protection. With one last glance at the drawer, Sally turned back to her bed and grabbed her jeans. She slipped into them, feeling the snug fit as they hugged her legs. It was different, having nothing between her and the fabric, no padding, no crinkling sound. She felt more exposed, but at the same time, she felt proud of herself. It was a small victory, but it was an important one. She pulled on her loose white sweater, smoothing it down over her jeans. The soft fabric draped elegantly over her, complimenting her figure without drawing too much attention. She glanced at herself in the mirror, turning slightly to inspect her reflection. It wasn’t the same as the comfort she found in diapers or Goodnites, but it was a different kind of comfort—a comfort in knowing she could handle this day, dressed like the mature young woman she was becoming. Sally smiled at her reflection, feeling a new sense of confidence settle in. "I don’t need them today," she whispered to herself. "I’m ready." And with that, she stepped away from the mirror, leaving the drawer unopened, and ready to face whatever the day had in store for her—without the extra padding but with all the strength and resilience she needed. -- Sally sat on the edge of the living room couch, her knees tucked beneath her as she stared out the large window overlooking the driveway. She was feeling anxious, excited, and curious all at once. Her father was coming to pick her up for their trip to New York, but she noticed something different about the arrival. The black Suburban had just pulled into the driveway, sleek and imposing as always, but this time, it wasn’t just her father inside. Her eyes narrowed slightly as the passenger-side door opened. A tall, blonde woman stepped out first, her movements swift and deliberate. Sally tilted her head, trying to make sense of who this was. The woman looked sharp—military-sharp, even—with her blonde hair pulled back in a tight, practical bun. She was fit and athletic, her posture radiating confidence and command as she quickly rounded the vehicle to the back door. Sally watched as the woman opened the door for her father with an efficient motion, stepping back just enough to let Adrian out. Sally’s curiosity piqued. “Who is that?” she muttered to herself, her brow furrowing slightly. The woman clearly wasn’t just a driver. There was something about the way she moved—quick on her feet, almost anticipatory—that made her seem like she was more than just some assistant. Adrian stepped out, giving the woman a brief nod, and exchanged a few words with her. There was familiarity between them, but nothing overly casual. She opened the back of the Suburban to grab something, her sharp, professional demeanor never faltering. Sally stood up from the couch, smoothing down her black jeans and adjusting her loose white sweater. She had never heard of this woman before, and her father hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone with him today. Clearly, she was some sort of assistant by her mannerisms, but there was something different about her—something about the way she carried herself, the precision in her movements. Sally felt her curiosity grow as she made her way to the front door. As soon as she opened it, Adrian and the woman—Theresa, apparently—were already making their way up the steps. “Hi, Dad,” Sally greeted warmly, her eyes quickly flicking to the woman beside him. Adrian smiled at his daughter, giving her a quick embrace. “Sally, this is Theresa,” he said, his tone casual. “She’ll be joining us today.” Sally’s eyes shifted to Theresa, who stood a step behind Adrian with a polite, professional smile. “Hello, Sally,” she said, her voice steady and calm. Her tone was friendly but reserved, giving off an air of confidence without being overly formal. “Hi,” Sally replied, offering a small smile of her own, though she couldn’t help but feel a bit more reserved. Theresa looked... formidable, in a way. There was something about her that commanded attention, even though she wasn’t trying. Theresa gave a polite nod and stepped aside slightly as Bridget appeared at the door, greeting Adrian and Theresa with a knowing smile. “Theresa, so good to finally meet you in person,” Bridget said warmly, her eyes reflecting a sense of familiarity that made it clear she knew more about Theresa’s role than Sally did. Sally felt a small spark of curiosity flare again. Her mom clearly knew who this woman was, but Adrian hadn’t mentioned her before. Theresa seemed like she was more than just an assistant—there was a sense of purpose behind her presence. But for now, Sally kept her greeting friendly yet reserved, wanting to figure out exactly who this woman was and why she was joining them on the trip. Theresa glanced back at Sally with a small, almost understanding smile, as if she could sense Sally’s curiosity. “It’ll be nice to get to know you better, Sally,” she said lightly, her voice carrying an undertone of calm reassurance. Sally nodded, feeling slightly more at ease, though the questions still bubbled up inside her. She wasn’t sure what to make of Theresa just yet, but one thing was clear—there was more to her than met the eye. As they stepped inside, Sally couldn’t help but sneak another glance at Theresa, wondering what her role really was and why she seemed to have such a commanding presence. Clearly, her father had brought her for more than just company. Sally sat back in the plush leather seat of the Suburban, letting out a soft sigh of relief. At least the SUV was comfortable, and for the next few hours, she could relax as they drove into New York City. She slipped her AirPods into her ears, already imagining the long stretch of highway, the faint hum of the car, and some music to drown out the tension she felt. The city trip was important, and she knew her father had his own schedule in mind, but at least for the drive, she could unwind a little. She glanced out the window, watching as familiar streets and houses passed by. Bridget had said her goodbyes with her usual warmth, and now Sally was settling into what she assumed would be a long, peaceful drive. She turned up the volume on her music and closed her eyes, trying to relax. The soft murmur of conversation between Adrian and Theresa faded into the background, and for a while, she allowed herself to drift. Her thoughts wandered from the meeting at Trump Tower to the plans for the day, wondering how she would handle everything. But just as she was getting comfortable, something strange caught her attention. The familiar route they would normally take out of town—heading toward the highway—wasn't the one the driver was following. Sally frowned slightly and sat up, pulling out one of her AirPods. She glanced out the window again and quickly realized they weren’t headed toward the city at all. In fact, they seemed to be heading toward the small local airport. She pulled out her second AirPod and looked over at her father, confused. "Wait... are we going to the airport?" she asked, her voice breaking through the quiet conversation between Adrian and Theresa. Adrian looked at her with mild surprise, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t already know. “Oh, yes. We’re taking a helicopter to the city,” he said, his tone casual, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Sally blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “A helicopter?” Adrian nodded, still not picking up on her surprise. “Of course. Driving into the city would take far too long. We’ll be there in under an hour this way.” For a moment, Sally just sat there, stunned. He hadn’t said anything about this—he hadn’t even hinted that they wouldn’t be driving. But then again, she realized, her dad never really explained his plans in detail. He just assumed everyone moved at his pace, accustomed to these kinds of arrangements. It never crossed his mind to explain them. Sally glanced at Theresa, who had turned slightly in her seat to meet Sally’s gaze. Theresa offered her a small smile, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Your dad’s always moving fast. You’ll get used to it,” she said, her tone light, as if this was all part of the job. Sally shook her head, letting out a soft laugh. “I guess so.” It was still sinking in—helicopters instead of long drives, plans that seemed to materialize out of thin air. She realized this wasn’t just a typical trip. It was a glimpse into the way her father lived, something she still wasn’t fully used to. The SUV continued toward the airport, the small hangar already coming into view. Sally shifted in her seat, adjusting to the sudden change in plans, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside her. It wasn’t what she expected, but maybe she should have known. With her dad, nothing was ever simple or slow. The Suburban came to a stop in front of the hangar, where a sleek black helicopter sat waiting for them, its blades already spinning slowly. Sally glanced out the window, her heart racing a little as she took in the sight. Adrian, as calm and composed as ever, opened his door and stepped out without a word. Theresa quickly followed, opening the back door for Sally. As Sally stepped out, she gave Theresa a small, knowing smile. “I guess this is just... how he does things, huh?” Theresa chuckled softly, glancing at Adrian before looking back at Sally. “You’ll get the hang of it. He likes to keep things moving.” Sally took a deep breath, feeling the rush of the wind from the helicopter as she stood there. This was just the beginning, and it was already far from anything she had expected. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever fully catch up to the pace her father set, but for now, she was along for the ride. And what a ride it was shaping up to be. -- Sally couldn’t help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement as the black Suburban pulled up to the small private terminal at the local airport. She had been expecting a long, somewhat boring drive into the city, but now, everything was changing in an instant. Her father hadn’t mentioned they’d be flying, and the fact that a helicopter awaited them had completely caught her off guard. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Sally's gaze locked on the sleek, dark Sikorsky S-76 helicopter parked on the tarmac. Its blades spun slowly, the powerful machine humming like something out of a movie. The imposing, futuristic-looking helicopter felt larger than she had imagined—almost like a small private jet in appearance, with its elegant yet powerful lines. Theresa, who had already gotten out of the car, walked around and opened the back door for Sally with her usual efficient movements. “That’s a Sikorsky S-76,” she said, her tone calm but informative, sensing Sally’s awe as she gazed at the helicopter. “It’s one of the top luxury helicopters for business travel. Quiet, fast, and comfortable. It’ll get us to Manhattan in under an hour.” Sally turned to her with wide eyes, grateful for the explanation. She had never even been in a helicopter before, let alone one that looked like this. “It’s... amazing,” she murmured, unable to hide her fascination. Theresa smiled, her demeanor softening just a bit as she recognized Sally’s excitement. “You’ll be fine. The flight’s smooth, and the interior is built for comfort. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.” Sally nodded, feeling a little reassured by Theresa’s calm confidence. As they walked toward the helicopter, the soft whoosh of the blades picked up slightly, the wind tousling Sally’s hair. She couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill as they approached the open door of the helicopter, where a member of the ground crew stood ready to assist. Adrian climbed in first, moving with the practiced ease of someone used to this kind of travel. He barely glanced at the vehicle, already used to its luxuries. Theresa motioned for Sally to follow, gently guiding her as she climbed up into the cabin. As soon as Sally stepped inside, she was struck by the interior. It wasn’t at all like the cramped, utilitarian helicopter cabins she had seen in movies. Instead, the cabin was spacious and sleek, with soft leather seats arranged in a VIP configuration, allowing for plenty of legroom. Everything was finished in dark wood and polished chrome, giving it a refined, elegant feel. The windows were large, providing panoramic views of the landscape around them. It was both intimate and luxurious. Sally slid into her seat, her heart still racing from the excitement. She quickly glanced around, taking in every detail of the cabin. For a brief moment, she was thankful she hadn’t given in to her earlier desire to wear her Goodnite under her jeans. It had been a temptation—something that would have made her feel a bit more secure—but she had resisted, wanting to present herself in a more mature way today. And now, as Theresa leaned over her to help with the seat belt, Sally felt an extra sense of relief. Theresa, always quick on her feet, leaned down and reached across Sally to attach her seatbelt, her face just inches away as she worked efficiently. “Let me get that for you,” she said softly, the closeness surprising Sally for a moment. She could feel the light touch of Theresa’s fingers as she clicked the belt into place, securing it snugly across her lap. Sally gave a small smile of appreciation, feeling slightly flustered by the closeness but also grateful for the guidance. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. Theresa smiled back, standing up straight again. “You’re all set. Just sit back and relax. It’ll be a smooth ride.” As the ground crew finished their checks, the doors were shut, and the hum of the rotors intensified slightly. The cabin remained relatively quiet, thanks to the helicopter’s advanced soundproofing, and Sally could already tell the flight would be more comfortable than she had expected. The helicopter slowly lifted off the ground, the transition from sitting still to ascending feeling surprisingly smooth. Sally’s eyes widened as the world outside the window began to shrink, the airport below growing smaller as they rose higher into the air. Her stomach did a little flip, but it wasn’t from fear—more from the exhilaration of doing something entirely new. Theresa, seated across from Sally, noticed her excitement and leaned in slightly. “You’ll love the view as we get closer to the city,” she said, her voice carrying over the quiet hum of the rotors. Sally nodded, her eyes glued to the window as the Connecticut countryside rolled out beneath them, the vibrant green trees and winding rivers looking almost like a painting. The helicopter picked up speed, cutting through the sky smoothly and effortlessly. Sally couldn’t help but grin, feeling the thrill of the moment. As they flew further south, the landscape shifted, the coastline of Long Island Sound coming into view. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and in the distance, she could see the faint outline of New York City beginning to emerge. Theresa had been right—the view was breathtaking. The helicopter’s large windows gave her a perfect vantage point to watch as the scenery below shifted from suburban sprawl to the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan. Sally sat back in her seat, her nerves easing as the ride became smoother than she had anticipated. The comfort of the helicopter, paired with the stunning views, made her forget about her earlier anxieties. She felt a strange sense of peace as they soared over the Hudson River, the iconic skyline growing closer by the minute. Soon enough, the helicopter began its descent into Manhattan. The bustling city stretched out beneath them like a grid, with Central Park visible as a massive green rectangle nestled among the towering buildings. Sally leaned closer to the window, unable to tear her eyes away as they flew over the George Washington Bridge and then the heart of the city itself. Theresa glanced over at Sally, noticing her amazement. “Pretty incredible, right?” she said with a knowing smile. Sally nodded, unable to find the words for how stunning the view was. “Yeah... it’s amazing.” The helicopter made its final descent, and the landing at the Air Pegasus Heliport was as smooth as the flight itself. The crew quickly moved into action, opening the doors and helping the passengers disembark. The moment Sally stepped out, she felt the cool breeze of the Hudson River and the rush of excitement that came with being in Manhattan. A sleek black SUV awaited them at the heliport, ready to take them to their final destination. As Sally climbed into the backseat, her excitement hadn’t faded. The helicopter ride had been a new, thrilling experience, but now, as they made their way through the busy streets of Manhattan, she knew the real day was just beginning. The drive to Trump Tower was quick but filled with the sights and sounds of the city—yellow taxis honking, pedestrians rushing by, the iconic buildings looming overhead. As they pulled up in front of the gleaming entrance to Trump Tower, Sally took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day ahead. She glanced at her father, who seemed as composed as ever, and then at Theresa, who gave her a reassuring nod. "Here we go," Sally thought, stepping out of the car and into the next chapter of her adventure. Chapter 34 – A Lot to Take In The sleek black SUV came to a gentle stop in front of Trump Tower, its reflective exterior gleaming under the soft morning light. Sally sat quietly in the backseat, nerves and excitement swirling in her stomach. Her father, Adrian, was calm as ever, his presence a steadying force. She knew today was important—their trip into Manhattan, the meeting with Olivia, and everything that followed—but it still felt surreal. Theresa, always quick and efficient, stepped out of the SUV first, moving to open the door for Adrian. As Sally climbed out after her father, she looked up at the towering structure of Trump Tower. The iconic glass and steel façade seemed even more imposing in person, the golden accents gleaming in the light. It all felt a bit overwhelming. Inside the lobby, the grandeur was even more palpable. Pink marble floors, tall columns, and an air of quiet luxury filled the space. People moved through with purpose, their hushed conversations barely audible over the soft sound of heels clicking against the polished floor. Sally followed Adrian’s lead, trying not to appear too awestruck by the surroundings. The private concierge, recognizing Adrian, approached them immediately with a polite nod. “Good morning, Mr. Weiss,” he said smoothly. “Ms. Olivia from Avalon Capital Advisors is expecting you. Please follow me to the elevators.” Adrian returned the nod and motioned for Sally and Theresa to follow. The concierge guided them toward a private set of elevators, tucked away from the busier parts of the lobby. The atmosphere was quieter here, more exclusive, as they stepped into the spacious elevator. As the doors closed, Sally felt a flutter of nerves again. This was all so far beyond her normal world—private helicopters, luxury offices, meetings with people who handled vast amounts of wealth. She glanced over at her father, who stood calmly as ever, and then at Theresa, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. The elevator moved quickly and quietly, the ride smooth and almost too fast for Sally to process her thoughts. When the doors opened, they were greeted by a sleek, modern reception area. Cream-colored walls, plush seating, and artfully placed décor gave the space a sophisticated yet understated feel. The large floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the New York skyline, making the room feel expansive and open. A polished receptionist behind a sleek marble desk greeted them warmly. “Good morning. Welcome to Avalon Capital Advisors. Ms. Olivia is ready for your meeting. Would you like anything to drink before we begin?” Sally hesitated for a moment, glancing at her father and Theresa. Neither of them seemed interested in a drink, but her throat felt dry, and she realized she was a bit nervous. “Could I have a Coke, please?” she asked, her voice a little quieter than intended. The receptionist smiled kindly. “Of course. I’ll bring it right in.” They were then led down a hallway with glass walls on either side, offering breathtaking views of Central Park and the city below. Sally could barely tear her eyes away from the sight, the scale of Manhattan still leaving her awed. She could feel the importance of the moment as they approached the meeting room—this wasn’t just a regular office visit. The conference room itself was as elegant as the rest of the office. A long polished wooden table sat at the center, surrounded by comfortable leather chairs. The room was minimalist in its design, but in a way that felt purposeful, with large windows that filled the space with natural light and a few pieces of modern art hanging on the walls. Sally sat down next to her father, carefully placing her hands in her lap as she adjusted to the surroundings. Theresa took her place across from them, her calm demeanor reassuring as always. Moments later, a server entered the room, setting a chilled glass of Coke with ice in front of Sally. She nodded her thanks, noticing once again that she was the only one with a drink, but she didn’t mind. She took a small sip, the cold liquid providing a bit of relief from her nerves. The door to the meeting room opened, and in walked Olivia, a tall woman with sharp features and an air of authority. Dressed in a tailored navy suit, Olivia exuded professionalism and poise. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and her expression was warm but focused. “Mr. Weiss, Theresa,” Olivia greeted them with a firm handshake, before turning to Sally with a softer smile. “And you must be Sally. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Sally smiled back, sitting up a bit straighter. “Nice to meet you, too,” she replied, trying to sound confident. Olivia took her seat across the table, setting down a slim portfolio in front of her. There was no condescension in her demeanor—just quiet confidence, like someone who had handled a thousand meetings just like this one. Sally felt slightly more at ease, realizing that Olivia was here to help, not intimidate. “Before we begin,” Olivia said, folding her hands on the table, “I just want to express how pleased I am to be here today. I’ve worked closely with Mr. Weiss for many years, and today marks the beginning of an important chapter for you, Sally. I’m excited to help guide you through this process and explore the opportunities ahead.” Sally nodded, taking another sip of her Coke. She felt the weight of the moment, but Olivia’s calm professionalism made her feel a bit more grounded. It was still surreal, sitting here in this elegant meeting room, discussing her future in such serious terms. But as she looked across the table at her father, who appeared relaxed and in control, and Theresa, ever vigilant and prepared, Sally felt a small sense of comfort in knowing she wasn’t facing this alone. The conversation was just beginning, and Sally knew she had a lot to learn. But with Olivia leading the way and her father beside her, she felt ready to take the first steps. -- Sally was doing her best to stay focused, nodding along as Olivia spoke about the future of her trust fund and the opportunities ahead. She took another small sip of her Coke, but the sweetness now felt too heavy, sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. The polished, elegant surroundings of the conference room began to blur slightly at the edges, and she could feel her heart starting to race. Her stomach churned, and a wave of nausea hit her. She swallowed hard, hoping it would pass, but it only seemed to intensify. Her hands started to feel clammy, and she noticed her breathing becoming more shallow and rapid. She felt a sheen of cold sweat forming on her forehead, and she could feel the back of her neck dampening. Sally tried to take a deep breath, but it wasn’t working. Her head felt light, and the soft hum of conversation between her father and Olivia seemed to fade, becoming distant and muffled. Everything was crashing down on her—the helicopter ride, the imposing grandeur of Trump Tower, the expectations of this meeting. It was all too much. She felt the room spinning, and suddenly, a terrifying realization hit her: she was going to vomit. Panic surged through her. “Not here. Please, not here,” she thought, glancing quickly around the room. Her eyes darted to her father, Adrian, who was focused on Olivia's words, his expression calm but slightly stern. If he noticed Sally's discomfort, he didn't show it. Sally felt a lump rising in her throat. She had to get out—now. She mumbled, her voice shaky, “Excuse me...” and stood abruptly. Adrian shot her a brief, slightly annoyed look. His brows furrowed, clearly not understanding why she was leaving in the middle of such an important conversation. “Sally,” he muttered in a low, reproachful tone, the irritation evident. But Sally barely heard him. Her focus was on getting to the door, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her. The world around her seemed to shrink, her vision narrowing as she moved toward the exit. Theresa, sitting across from her, immediately sensed what was happening. She had seen it before—anxiety hitting hard, especially in situations like this. Her calm eyes followed Sally as she moved toward the door. She gave a slight nod, understanding that Sally needed space and time. Her expression remained neutral, but her body language softened. She knew exactly what was happening and would make sure everything was okay when Sally returned. Olivia, on the other hand, was taken aback for a moment. She stopped mid-sentence, slightly perplexed, her professional demeanor faltering just a touch. Her eyes flicked toward Adrian, then back to Sally as she left the room. But Olivia, ever the composed professional, quickly recovered. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she understood enough to remain empathetic. She gave Adrian a brief, understanding nod. “It’s alright,” she said softly, her voice reassuring. “Sometimes, the pressure can be overwhelming.” Adrian, his irritation still visible in his tightly pressed lips, sighed but said nothing further. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but with both Olivia and Theresa remaining calm, he forced himself to remain composed as well, though his eyes flicked to the door that Sally had just rushed through. Sally practically bolted out of the room, her mind racing as she made a beeline for the hallway. She barely remembered where the bathroom was, but thankfully, the layout had stuck in her mind. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the cold sweat gathering on her palms as she hurried down the hall. Her stomach twisted, threatening to revolt at any moment. Sally rushed down the hallway, her mind racing, barely registering the plush carpets and quiet elegance of the office around her. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she could feel the cold sweat prickling her skin. She was on the verge of losing control—her body betraying her at the worst possible moment. The pressure of the meeting, the unfamiliar surroundings, and her father's high expectations all came crashing down, overwhelming her senses. She barely made it to the bathroom, pushing open the door with trembling hands. Inside, the spacious lavatory was sleek and modern, with marble countertops and large mirrors, but Sally had no time to notice. She darted into the first cubicle she saw, slamming the door behind her and fumbling frantically with her jeans. Her hands shook as she yanked them down and collapsed onto the toilet just as the cramps hit her stomach with full force. It wasn’t just nausea—her entire body was in revolt. She leaned forward, grabbing the small wastebasket in the stall, clutching it to her chest as she heaved. Her stomach clenched painfully, and before she knew it, she was emptying herself from both ends, her body wracked with overwhelming sickness. Her jeans were bunched around her ankles, and the sheer humiliation of it all—voiding in such a helpless, desperate way—made her want to disappear. As she bent over, heaving into the basket, she heard a soft knock at the bathroom door. “Sally? Are you okay?” It was Theresa’s voice, calm but concerned. Sally froze, her body still trembling, the last thing she wanted was anyone witnessing this. But another cramp hit, forcing her to grip the wastebasket tighter. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak. Panic was setting in. “Sally,” Theresa called again, more firmly this time. “I’m coming in. It’s okay.” Sally wanted to tell her to stay out, to leave her alone, but she couldn’t find the words. Her chest tightened, and she felt another wave of nausea. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as the room seemed to tilt around her. All she could do was hug the wastebasket as her body betrayed her, again. Theresa’s footsteps echoed lightly on the bathroom floor, approaching the cubicle. Sally whimpered, her voice barely audible through the door. “I’m... I’m okay,” she croaked, though she knew it was a lie. Theresa stopped just outside the cubicle, her voice gentle but firm. “Sally, I’m right here if you need me. It’s okay to ask for help.” Sally hesitated, but her pride and fear of judgment warred with the overwhelming need for comfort. Her body was shaking, and she felt as though she might pass out from the dizziness and nausea. She couldn’t handle this alone. With a shaky breath, she whispered, “Okay... you can come in.” The door creaked open, and Theresa stepped in quietly, closing the door behind her for privacy. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of Sally—pale, trembling, and hunched over the wastebasket, her jeans pooled around her ankles. Sally felt the heat of humiliation flood her cheeks, but she was too sick to care. Theresa knelt beside her without hesitation, gently placing a hand on Sally’s back. “It’s alright,” she said soothingly. “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here.” She moved with a calm confidence, but there was warmth in her touch that reassured Sally more than words ever could. Sally gagged again, her stomach rebelling once more. Theresa reached out and held back her hair, keeping it away from her face as she leaned forward and dry-heaved into the basket. The gesture was so simple, so caring, that it brought tears to Sally’s eyes, though she tried to hide them. She was used to handling things on her own, but right now, she was grateful for the help. “I’ve got you,” Theresa murmured softly, holding her hair gently. “Just take your time.” The cramps subsided a little, and Sally leaned back against the wall of the cubicle, her whole body weak and shaky. She wiped at her eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Theresa didn’t seem fazed by any of it. She offered Sally a tissue, and Sally took it gratefully, wiping her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” Sally whispered, her voice trembling. Theresa shook her head. “No need to apologize. This kind of thing happens, especially with the pressure you’re under.” Her voice was steady, but kind, and it didn’t carry an ounce of judgment. Sally exhaled shakily, finally starting to calm down as the worst of the nausea passed. She looked at Theresa, who was still kneeling beside her, completely unbothered by the situation. Her calm, collected demeanor made Sally feel less alone, and slowly, the panic began to fade. “Thank you,” Sally whispered, her voice still weak. Theresa gave her a soft smile. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s okay to need help sometimes.” Sally nodded, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes for a moment, grateful that Theresa had been there. Slowly, she started to regain her composure, her breathing evening out. Theresa helped her clean up, handing her some more tissues, and gently guided her back onto her feet when she was ready. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Theresa said, offering her a supportive hand as she stood up. Sally took it, still feeling a bit wobbly, but thankful to have someone there to steady her. Theresa helped Sally adjust her jeans and straighten her hair, making sure she looked as dignified as possible before they left the cubicle. The moment could have been humiliating, but with Theresa’s help, it became one of quiet understanding. Sally’s embarrassment had started to ease, replaced by a deep sense of gratitude. As they left the bathroom, Sally glanced at Theresa, offering a small, appreciative smile. She hadn’t expected to bond with her father’s assistant like this, but in that moment, a new level of trust had been forged between them. -- As soon as Sally emerged from the bathroom, pale and shaken but now composed, Olivia could see the toll the meeting had taken on her. The young girl’s body language screamed exhaustion, anxiety still lingering in her posture. Olivia, though ever the consummate professional, was also deeply empathetic. She knew immediately that the conversation needed to shift—away from the pressures of financial management and into something far more nurturing. Without hesitation, she made a swift decision. "Adrian," Olivia said, turning to Sally’s father with a firm but composed tone. "I think it’s best if you wait in the lobby for now. Sally needs some space, and we need to approach this with care." Adrian blinked, momentarily taken aback by Olivia's directness, but he nodded. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, perhaps feeling dismissed, but he relented. He had always respected Olivia's judgment, even when it was uncomfortable. "Alright," he muttered, glancing at Sally with a mixture of concern and frustration, but he said nothing further as he left the room. Olivia exhaled softly once Adrian was gone, then turned her full attention to Sally, her expression softening. "Come with me, sweetheart," she said gently, placing a comforting hand on Sally’s shoulder. "Let’s go somewhere a little quieter. You don’t need this pressure right now." Sally nodded, feeling a wave of relief as Olivia guided her into her private office suite. Theresa walked closely behind, her usual efficiency now replaced with an almost maternal protectiveness. Her eyes never left Sally, clearly ready to step in if needed. Once inside Olivia’s office, Sally was struck by how different it felt from the formal conference room. The space was large but inviting, with warm lighting, plush chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of Central Park. It was a far more intimate setting, meant for private conversations rather than high-powered meetings. A cozy couch sat near a polished desk, and the air smelled faintly of lavender, calming and soothing. Theresa quickly helped Sally settle onto the couch, sitting beside her, almost like an older sister ready to shield her from anything that might cause harm. She handed Sally a glass of water, which she took gratefully, sipping slowly. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate slightly as the door clicked shut behind them. "I’m so sorry, Sally," Olivia began, kneeling in front of her to make sure she was on the same level. Her eyes were soft, full of empathy. "I didn’t realize how overwhelming all of this was for you. This should never have happened like this." She paused, glancing at Theresa, who nodded in understanding. "Your father, well… he means well, but this was too much, too fast." Sally looked down at her hands, her fingers still trembling slightly, but Olivia’s tone reassured her. "It’s just a lot," she whispered. "Everything… the helicopter, the meeting, all of it." "Of course it is," Olivia said softly, reaching out to take Sally’s hand. "This is your life, your future, and it’s a lot to process. No one should expect you to just understand everything all at once. I’m here to make sure we take things at your pace, not anyone else’s." Theresa leaned forward, her hand still resting gently on Sally’s back. "You’re not alone in this, Sally. We’re all here for you," she said, her voice steady. "And it’s okay to take it slow." Olivia sat back slightly, giving Sally space to absorb what was being said. "I should have spoken to you first, away from your father. He loves you, I can see that, but sometimes that love can feel like pressure. You don’t have to please him by taking all of this on at once. We’ll work through it together, step by step." Sally, feeling the weight lifting from her shoulders, nodded, finally meeting Olivia’s eyes. There was a warmth and gentleness there that made her feel safe. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling the relief wash over her. "I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say anything. It was all so much." Olivia smiled softly. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. We’re going to take it one step at a time. And if you ever feel overwhelmed again, you can tell me, okay?" Sally nodded, feeling a warmth building in her chest. For the first time that day, she felt like she had some control over what was happening. The walls weren’t closing in anymore. Olivia sat down beside Sally, still within her personal space but not overwhelming her. "Here’s what I’d like to do, if you’re comfortable with it," she began, her tone calm and thoughtful. "I think we should start small. There’s no need to dive into the complex parts of your trust and investments just yet." Sally listened intently, appreciating that Olivia wasn’t rushing her. "We’ll break things down," Olivia continued. "Maybe start with just the basics about your trust—what it is, how it works, and how you can take small steps in understanding it. I’ll create a plan that introduces you to things in stages. You don’t have to feel overwhelmed." Sally nodded slowly, feeling the anxiety that had plagued her earlier begin to ease. "That… that sounds good," she said softly. Theresa, still beside her, gave Sally a supportive smile. "And if you ever need a break, or if things feel too much, you let us know. We’ll stop whenever you want." Sally leaned back into the couch, finally feeling some of the tension release from her shoulders. She knew Theresa meant it, and that alone was comforting. The relief in the room was palpable, and Sally, now more relaxed, felt a small spark of curiosity. "So… what’s the first thing I should know?" she asked tentatively, wanting to understand but also relieved she didn’t have to grasp everything at once. Olivia’s smile widened, clearly happy that Sally was feeling comfortable enough to ask. "Well, I think we can start with the basics. Your trust fund is set up to ensure you’re taken care of, now and in the future. It’s invested in different ways to grow, but you have access to certain parts when you turn 18 and more as you get older. We can look at those details together." Sally took a moment to absorb the information, her mind calmer now that she was away from the intensity of the conference room. "And… can I control any of it, or do I have to wait?" she asked, her voice still hesitant but steadier. Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "You will have more control as you grow older, but for now, certain parts are managed by advisors to make sure everything stays on track. Eventually, you’ll be able to make decisions, and I’ll be here to guide you when that time comes." Sally gave a small smile, feeling more in control now. The idea of learning slowly, on her own terms, made her feel less like she was being swept away by something too big to handle. As the conversation continued, the weight on Sally’s chest seemed to ease. She was still nervous about what lay ahead, but with Olivia and Theresa there, she no longer felt trapped. They weren’t expecting her to understand everything all at once, and the pressure to impress her father had lessened without him in the room. Sally glanced at Theresa, who gave her an encouraging smile, and back at Olivia. "I think… I can do this," Sally whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. Olivia gave her a warm nod. "I know you can, Sally. And you won’t have to do it alone." As the conversation started to settle into a more comfortable rhythm, Olivia leaned back slightly, her warm smile never fading. She studied Sally for a moment before asking, “How old are you, Sally?” Sally hesitated for just a second before replying, “I’ll be 15 next month.” Olivia’s eyes lit up, and she suddenly clapped her hands together. “Quinceañera!” she exclaimed with genuine excitement. The word rolled off her tongue effortlessly, as if it carried personal significance. Sally blinked, a little surprised by the sudden outburst. “You’re Latin American?” she asked, curiosity piqued. Olivia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No, I’m not, but I’ve traveled to Honduras several times for volunteer work with a charity I support. I’ve gotten to know a lot of the culture there, and let me tell you, 15 is a huge milestone for them.” Sally’s face brightened at that, a smile tugging at her lips. “I know! My friend Katrina, she’s from Colombia, and she’s been going on about it for months. She says I have to throw a party.” Theresa, who had been quietly listening, visibly warmed at the mention of Sally’s friend from Colombia. She hadn’t known much about Sally’s social life up until now, but hearing that she had such close ties with Latin Americans made her feel even more connected. Theresa herself, with her Mexican heritage, was beginning to see a bit of herself in Sally. “Well,” Olivia said with a grin, “if Katrina has her way, you’ll be having the biggest Quinceañera this side of the Atlantic!” Sally giggled at the thought, her earlier anxiety slowly melting away. “She won’t let me forget it,” she admitted, shaking her head fondly. “She’s already planning it in her head, I think.” Theresa leaned in a little closer, her voice soft and warm. “It sounds like you have a great group of friends, Sally. That’s really nice to hear.” There was an ease in her tone now, as if the walls between them had finally come down. Sally nodded, the smile lingering on her face. “Yeah, they’re pretty great. Katrina is always making me laugh, and Clara—well, she’s the level-headed one. They both keep me grounded.” Olivia and Theresa exchanged a glance, both of them visibly more relaxed now that Sally seemed to be finding her footing again. The earlier tension in the room had lifted, replaced by the shared warmth of conversation and connection. “Sounds like you have quite the team of friends,” Olivia remarked with a chuckle. “And I bet Katrina’s already thinking of ways to make sure your Quinceañera is unforgettable.” Sally beamed, feeling a sense of comfort in the moment, the bond between her, Olivia, and Theresa growing stronger with each passing minute. The ice had officially broken, and the heavy weight of the morning’s events had begun to fade away. As the conversation became more lighthearted, Sally found herself growing more comfortable around Olivia and Theresa. The earlier anxiety was still there, lingering in the background, but now it felt more manageable. She took another sip of water, her eyes flickering to Olivia as a thought crossed her mind—something she’d been wondering about but had felt too nervous to ask. Chapter 35 - And Now? Tentatively, Sally shifted in her seat, glancing between Olivia and Theresa. “So… um, do I have… like… an allowance or something?” she asked, her voice a little quieter than before. She felt her cheeks flush as soon as the words were out, immediately feeling awkward for asking such a question, but the curiosity had been gnawing at her. She needed to know. Theresa, sitting beside her, had to fight to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. The question was so innocent, so endearing, and it reminded her that despite everything going on, Sally was still just a girl trying to make sense of her new reality. Olivia, ever the professional but with a touch of warmth in her eyes, didn’t miss a beat. She leaned in slightly, her tone both practical and accommodating. “Well, Sally,” she began with a small smile, “in a way, yes. You do have access to certain funds, though it’s a bit more structured than a typical allowance.” Sally’s eyes widened a bit, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Your trust is set up to provide for your needs, now and in the future,” Olivia continued, her voice gentle but informative. “Right now, there are portions of it that can be used for your education, daily expenses, and anything that contributes to your well-being. But as for what you might think of as an ‘allowance,’ yes, you’ll have access to a regular amount to use for personal things as you grow older.” Sally blinked, processing the information. “So, it’s like… I can use it for stuff I need? Or, like, clothes and school things?” Olivia nodded, her smile widening. “Exactly. And as you get older, those funds will grow, and you’ll be able to manage them more directly. But for now, think of it as having resources for what you need, with a little bit of freedom for personal choices.” Theresa, watching the interaction, could see how Olivia’s practical, no-nonsense approach was helping Sally ease into this new world. She admired how Olivia didn’t overwhelm Sally with jargon or make her feel like she was asking a silly question. Theresa, meanwhile, found herself warming even more to Sally, whose genuine curiosity and shy mannerisms were a reminder of just how young and vulnerable she really was beneath the surface. “That makes sense,” Sally said, her brow furrowed slightly as she thought it over. “I guess I just didn’t know how any of this worked.” Olivia chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. “That’s perfectly normal. You’re learning, and that’s what we’re here for—to help guide you through it at your own pace.” Sally smiled shyly, the warmth in the room settling around her like a comforting blanket. She glanced at Theresa, who gave her an encouraging nod, clearly impressed by how well Sally was handling everything. “You’re doing great,” Theresa said softly, unable to hold back her smile any longer. Sally’s face brightened at that, feeling a little more confident. “Thanks,” she replied, feeling like, for the first time, she was starting to understand the pieces of this complicated new life. With Olivia’s generosity and practical explanations, and Theresa’s protective presence, Sally felt like she was no longer drowning in information. Instead, she was slowly finding her way. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she was excited about the future. The meeting had grown quieter after Sally’s abrupt rush to the bathroom. When she returned, looking pale and still shaky, Olivia immediately noticed her lingering weakness. Though Sally had done her best to maintain composure, her face was still drained of color, and the dark circles under her eyes revealed how much the anxiety had taken out of her. Sitting back down, Sally tried to focus, but Olivia saw the strain. She gave Sally a warm, understanding smile before standing from her chair. “Let’s take a little break,” Olivia said, her voice soft yet decisive. She crossed the room and picked up the phone at her desk. A quick call was made to the receptionist, and within moments, Olivia requested something light for Sally. “Could you bring up a small snack—some crackers, a banana, and sparkling water?” Sally, sitting quietly, blinked in surprise. “I’m fine,” she murmured, a little embarrassed. “You don’t have to—” “No arguments,” Olivia said, smiling kindly as she returned to her seat. “You’ve had a rough morning. A little snack will help you feel better.” Theresa, seated beside Sally, gave her a reassuring nod. “She’s right. A light snack will do wonders. Trust me, you’ll feel a lot better.” Sally, feeling the gentle support from both women, nodded reluctantly. “Okay, thank you,” she whispered, feeling the tension in her shoulders finally ease. A few minutes later, the door opened, and a server entered with a small tray. The tray was set down gently in front of Sally: a plate of plain crackers, banana slices, and a chilled glass of sparkling water. The soft fizz of the bubbles sparkled in the glass, and Sally felt a quiet sense of relief as the simplicity of the offering made her feel cared for without being overwhelmed. “Thank you,” Sally said softly, taking a slow sip of the sparkling water. The bubbles were gentle on her throat, and the coolness of the drink immediately began to calm her system. Olivia leaned back in her chair, watching Sally with a smile. “Let’s just relax for a bit,” she suggested, her tone now lighthearted, clearly shifting away from the formal business discussions. “No need to rush back into anything.” As Sally picked up a cracker, nibbling it thoughtfully, Olivia and Theresa began a light conversation, giving her space to enjoy the snack. “You know,” Olivia said, crossing her legs and settling into a more comfortable position, “I remember the first time I had to step into a big meeting at a young age. It was a charity function, and I was absolutely terrified.” She chuckled softly. “I ended up drinking too much water beforehand, and halfway through, I had to excuse myself to the bathroom about three times.” Theresa smirked and shook her head. “That sounds like something I’d do. Except I would have probably just held it in and suffered through.” Sally listened, her shoulders relaxing a little more as the conversation turned casual. She sipped her sparkling water again, feeling the bubbles soothing her, and smiled at Olivia’s story. “It happens to the best of us,” Theresa added, her tone warm. “Pressure can hit when you least expect it.” Sally nodded, feeling a little less self-conscious about her earlier exit. The banana slices were surprisingly refreshing, and as she slowly ate, she could feel her strength returning. The heavy sensation in her stomach was beginning to ease, and for the first time since arriving at Trump Tower, she felt a sense of calm. Olivia’s eyes twinkled as she watched Sally. “See? A little snack, some sparkling water, and a break from all the seriousness… sometimes that’s all we need to feel human again.” Sally smiled shyly. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” she admitted, taking another small bite of her cracker. “It’s okay,” Olivia replied. “We all need to hit pause sometimes. There’s no rush.” Theresa leaned back, her eyes softening as she glanced at Sally. “And don’t worry about the business talk, either. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn everything you need to. For now, just focus on feeling better.” Sally felt a sense of gratitude wash over her. With the gentle conversation swirling around her and the kindness of both women, she no longer felt the weight of expectations pressing down on her. The simplicity of the snack, the bubbles of the sparkling water, and the light banter between Olivia and Theresa were exactly what she needed to ground herself. As the chatter between Olivia and Theresa continued, shifting to topics like travel and favorite cities, Sally sat back in her chair, finally allowing herself to enjoy the calm. By the time she had finished the last of the banana slices and crackers, her nausea had fully dissipated, and she felt more herself again. Olivia glanced over at Sally, giving her an encouraging smile. “Feeling better?” Sally nodded, her face a little brighter. “Yeah, a lot better. Thanks for that.” “Good,” Olivia said, leaning forward slightly. “There’s no rush to dive back in. We’ll continue when you’re ready.” Sally smiled softly, feeling more secure than she had since the day began. “I think I’m ready soon,” she said, the warmth of their support giving her the strength she needed. -- After spending some time recovering with the light snack and the gentle conversation between Olivia and Theresa, Sally finally felt steadier on her feet. The waves of anxiety that had previously overwhelmed her seemed to fade into the background. Her strength was returning, and though she still felt a bit weak, she knew she was ready to face her father again. Olivia glanced at Sally and gave a warm, encouraging smile. “Ready to go back out there?” she asked softly, noting the slight hesitation on Sally’s face. Sally nodded, feeling more confident now. “Yeah, I think I’m good.” Theresa stood beside Sally, her protective presence still strong. She gave Sally a quick pat on the back. “We’ve got you, don’t worry.” With that, the three women walked together down the hallway, back toward the main lobby where Adrian had been waiting. As they approached, Olivia took the lead, stepping through the doors first, with Sally and Theresa following close behind. The moment they entered the lobby, Adrian turned toward them. He was standing near the large windows, looking out over the city, but his posture was tense, his shoulders squared. His brow furrowed as his eyes landed on Sally. His expression was a mix of concern and irritation—clearly, the wait had made him anxious, and perhaps a bit peeved that things hadn’t gone according to his meticulously planned schedule. “Sally,” he said, his voice tight but laced with worry. “Are you alright?” Sally felt a sudden pang of guilt, but Olivia quickly stepped in, her tone smooth and calming. “She’s fine, Adrian,” Olivia reassured him. “We took a break, got her something to eat, and gave her some time to settle. She’s handling this as best she can, but let’s be honest—today has been a lot for her.” Adrian’s eyes softened for a moment as he glanced at his daughter. “I didn’t realize… it would be this overwhelming,” he admitted, though his frustration was still apparent. “But we need to get through this.” Theresa subtly stepped closer to Sally, sensing the shift in energy, her protective instinct kicking in. Sally appreciated it, knowing Theresa had her back. Still, she didn’t want her father to feel like she wasn’t up to the task, even though part of her still felt fragile. Sally took a deep breath, her voice quiet but steady. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she said, surprising herself with the use of the affectionate term. “It was just… a lot all at once. But I’m ready to go now.” Adrian looked at her, his brow softening at the sound of “Daddy.” He exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Good. I’m glad you’re alright,” he muttered, though a hint of impatience still lingered. Olivia, sensing the need to shift the tone, stepped in again, her voice smooth but firm. “Adrian, let’s take things slowly from here. Sally is doing incredibly well given the circumstances, but she’ll need time to fully understand everything. There’s no need to rush. Today was about introductions, not conclusions.” Adrian looked between Olivia and Sally, his frustration visibly wavering. He nodded slowly, clearly grappling with his own impatience. “Alright, let’s take it slow then,” he agreed, though his tone hinted at how difficult that was for him. Sally, feeling the support from both Olivia and Theresa, gave her father a small, encouraging smile. “Thanks, Dad. I think… I just needed a minute to breathe.” Adrian's expression softened further, and for the first time, he seemed to understand the weight of the day on his daughter. He reached out and gave her a brief, awkward pat on the shoulder. “You’re tougher than I give you credit for sometimes, kid,” he said quietly, a rare compliment escaping his usually reserved demeanor. Sally felt a surge of warmth at his words, her earlier nerves continuing to fade. With Olivia and Theresa by her side, she felt ready to face whatever was next—even if it came with more questions and challenges. “Shall we?” Olivia asked, her voice light, though her eyes were still watchful, making sure Sally was truly ready. Sally nodded again, this time more confidently. “Let’s go.” And with that, they walked back toward the meeting room, ready to pick up where they had left off—this time with a much calmer Sally, and with a father who, for once, seemed to realize that sometimes even the strongest needed a break. -- Back in the meeting room, the atmosphere was more relaxed, though still professional. Olivia stood confidently at the front of the room, the soft click of the presentation remote the only sound as the lights dimmed slightly. A large screen in front of them lit up, displaying the first slide—a clean, minimalist design, perfectly in line with the sophisticated nature of Avalon Capital Advisors. Sally settled back into her chair, still sipping on her sparkling water, feeling far more grounded now than she had earlier. Olivia, ever the poised professional, started speaking, her tone light but engaging. “Alright, Sally, let’s start with the fun stuff,” Olivia began with a playful smile. “No need to overwhelm you with numbers and legal terms just yet. I thought it’d be nice to show you what’s already working for you, even if you haven’t had a chance to see it all in person.” Adrian leaned back, his eyes focused on the screen, but clearly giving Olivia space to present without interruption. Theresa, ever watchful, sat beside Sally, occasionally glancing at her to make sure she was feeling okay. Sally, meanwhile, was feeling excited, knowing exactly what was coming. “So, as you might know,” Olivia continued, her voice smooth and witty, “you’re not just a young lady with a hefty savings account. You have assets—real, tangible ones—and a good chunk of that involves some pretty spectacular real estate.” The next slide transitioned to a sleek, modern apartment building with a prominent address in New York City. The name “Soho” appeared in bold letters at the top, and Olivia smiled knowingly as she clicked to reveal it. Sally's face brightened. "Ah, there it is!" she said with a gleam in her eyes. “I love Soho. I can’t believe I actually own an apartment there.” Olivia grinned, clearly enjoying Sally’s enthusiasm. “You have excellent taste. And I have to agree with you—it’s quite the spot.” Sally leaned forward slightly, her excitement now fully showing. The apartment building, sleek and modern, seemed like a perfect fit for her. "I've always loved the vibe there. The art, the boutiques, the energy of the neighborhood—it’s just… me. I can’t wait to spend more time in that space.” Theresa noticed Sally’s glowing face and couldn’t help but smile. “It suits you,” she said warmly. “Yes, it does,” Olivia chimed in. “It’s not just any apartment, either. This is a high-end, two-bedroom loft with gorgeous views of the city and an open floor plan. You’ve been building equity there for a few years now, thanks to some smart investments made on your behalf.” Sally nodded, still smiling. "It's like a dream come true, really. I’ve been thinking about moving there once everything settles down.” Olivia chuckled. "I thought you might say that. And when you’re ready, it’s all yours. You could live there, rent it out, or even sell it if you want—though I recommend holding on to it. The market in Soho is only getting hotter, and that place is in a prime location.” Sally grinned. "Oh, I’m definitely holding on to it. There’s no way I’d let go of a gem like that." Olivia clicked through a few more slides, showing additional properties that Sally’s trust had invested in. There were vacation homes in the Bahamas and Switzerland, luxurious apartments in other parts of Manhattan, and even a small villa in southern France. Each property seemed more incredible than the last, but Sally’s heart remained with the Soho apartment. Olivia noticed the way Sally’s face lit up every time Soho was mentioned and decided to have a little fun with it. “I had a feeling the Soho place would be your favorite,” she teased. “It’s got that urban, artsy vibe. And I hear the shopping’s not bad either.” Sally laughed, finally feeling the tension of the day melt away. “Not bad? The shopping is amazing,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. “Honestly, I can’t wait to spend more time there.” “Well, now that you know it’s yours, you can plan your visits as much as you like,” Olivia replied warmly. “And don’t worry, the property manager is top-notch. Everything has been running smoothly, but whenever you’re ready, I’ll walk you through the details.” Sally felt a rush of excitement but managed to keep her cool. For the first time today, she felt like she was part of something tangible, something she could see herself enjoying in the future. As Olivia continued the presentation, switching to a more general discussion of financial strategies and future plans, Sally remained engaged, her mind occasionally drifting back to her apartment in Soho. She occasionally glanced at her father, who had been watching quietly, his earlier irritation having softened into a more thoughtful expression. He was clearly satisfied with how things were going, and Sally could tell he was proud of her for handling things so well. Theresa leaned over and whispered, “Told you there’d be something exciting.” Sally smiled and nodded, feeling a warm sense of connection with both women. They had helped her through one of the most challenging days of her young life, and now, instead of being overwhelmed, she felt a sense of ownership and excitement about her future. Olivia wrapped up her presentation with a final slide featuring key financial reports, but it was clear that the real highlight for Sally had been the confirmation of her Soho apartment. “Alright, Sally,” Olivia said, turning off the projector and leaning back in her chair. “I think that’s enough for today. You’ve been an absolute champ, and I’m excited for what’s ahead for you. We’ll take things one step at a time, and when you’re ready to dive deeper, we’ll be here to guide you.” Sally nodded, feeling both relieved and excited. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I think I’m starting to understand how this all works.” Olivia grinned. “You’re going to do great, Sally. You’ve already proven that you can handle more than you think.” With that, the meeting came to a close, and Sally couldn’t help but smile to herself. She knew her life was about to change in ways she had imagined for so long—and at the center of it all was her very own apartment in Soho, a place she could soon call home. -- After Olivia’s engaging presentation and the surprising revelation of the Soho apartment, the intensity of the day seemed to dissolve into something lighter. The meeting concluded, and the trio—Sally, her father Adrian, and Theresa—gathered for a quick business lunch at a nearby upscale restaurant. But instead of diving back into the weighty matters discussed earlier, the conversation was refreshingly light. Sally, still recovering from the anxiety that had overcome her earlier, opted for a simple bowl of soup. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but the warmth of the broth helped settle her nerves. Olivia had joined them briefly, sharing humorous stories about her travels and letting the business talk take a backseat. Theresa had chimed in here and there, her laid-back demeanor helping Sally feel more at ease. Adrian, for his part, remained mostly silent, though his gaze occasionally flicked to Sally, as if reassessing how she was handling everything. Once lunch was wrapped up, it was time to begin the journey back home. Sally, feeling calmer and more grounded than she had that morning, climbed into the familiar plush seats of the black SUV, flanked by her father and Theresa. They rode in comfortable silence as the car glided through the streets of Manhattan toward the heliport. -- The helicopter ride back was quieter than the one earlier that morning. The chopper hummed softly, the blades cutting through the air as the city shrank beneath them. Sally stared out of the window, her thoughts swirling but in a calmer rhythm now. She was still processing everything—her trust, the Soho apartment, the future plans laid out by Olivia. But there was also something else on her mind. The journey back felt faster, or perhaps it was just Sally’s mind wandering, the newness of the day’s events settling into a place she could start to understand. But as they descended toward the heliport in their home city, something changed. There was an unusual energy in the air as they touched down, and Adrian’s expression grew more focused, more serious. Once the helicopter landed and the door was opened, Adrian turned to Sally, his voice more formal than it had been all day. “Sally, I need to tell you something.” Sally looked up, her curiosity piqued. “What is it, Dad?” “I have to head back to Switzerland for business,” he said, his tone clipped, as if this was routine for him—but for Sally, it felt abrupt. “There are some urgent matters I need to handle. But don’t worry, Theresa will be stationed nearby, and she’ll help with anything you or your mother need while I’m away.” Sally blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. She had just started getting used to having him around, and now he was leaving again. The news wasn’t entirely surprising—her father had always traveled for work—but it stung a little more after everything that had happened that day. Before she could respond, Theresa, ever aware of Sally’s emotional state, stepped forward and gently guided her off the helicopter. As they stepped onto the tarmac, Theresa pointed toward a massive, sleek silver jet parked nearby. “That’s his Gulfstream,” she said quietly, her voice reassuring, as if sensing Sally’s mixed feelings. “It’s how he travels for work.” Sally stared at the private jet, its size and elegance almost intimidating. She marveled at it—the polished exterior, the subtle luxury of it all. The scale of her father’s world, and by extension, her world, was something she was still trying to comprehend. A sleek black Suburban was parked next to the helicopter, waiting to whisk Adrian away to his plane. The subtle choreography of private travel was something Sally had never really thought about, but seeing it play out in front of her made it feel more real, more concrete. Adrian turned to her, his expression softening slightly. He wasn’t one for drawn-out goodbyes, and Sally knew that, but this felt even more rushed than usual. “Take care, Sally,” he said, offering a brief but genuine smile. “Theresa’s nearby if you need anything, alright? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Sally nodded, still unsure of what to say. She felt a swell of emotion rising in her chest—part disappointment, part relief, part confusion. She stepped forward and hugged him a bit shyly, her arms looping around his waist. It wasn’t a long hug, but it was enough to convey what she couldn’t say with words. “Bye, Dad,” she said softly. Adrian gave her one last nod before stepping toward the waiting Suburban. Within moments, the car door closed, and it pulled away, heading toward the jet that would take him back to Switzerland. As the black Suburban drove off, Sally stood there, feeling the weight of her father’s departure. But before the unease could settle too deeply, Theresa placed a firm, comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Sally,” Theresa said, her voice steady and reassuring. “Things are changing, but for the better. Your father is still part of your life, even if he’s not always physically here. And I’m just a call away if you need anything.” Sally glanced at her, feeling a bit more grounded by Theresa’s presence. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a little steadier. “It’s just… a lot to take in.” Theresa nodded. “I know. But you’re handling it well. Better than most people would. Just take it one day at a time.” Sally smiled weakly at that, grateful for the support. They climbed into their own Suburban, the familiar leather seats providing a sense of comfort as they began the drive back to her house. Theresa sat next to her in the back, giving her space but also letting her know she wasn’t alone. When they arrived home, the atmosphere shifted again. As soon as they walked through the door, Sally could feel her mother’s energy—a mix of tension, concern, and hovering protectiveness. Bridget was waiting for them, her posture stiff as she stood near the kitchen, clearly having been briefed by Adrian or Olivia on what had happened at Trump Tower. “Sally,” her mother said, her voice a little too high-pitched as she hurried over. “How are you feeling? What happened today? Are you alright?” Sally sighed, feeling a surge of exhaustion hit her. The last thing she wanted right now was an interrogation, even though she knew her mother was just worried. Before Bridget could continue, Theresa stepped in, her calm presence immediately easing the tension in the room. “She’s okay, Bridget,” Theresa said softly but firmly. “It was a long day, but she handled it well. We just need to give her some time to rest.” Bridget, though still tense, nodded slowly. “I was just so worried,” she muttered, her eyes flicking to Sally, searching for any signs of distress. “I didn’t know what to expect.” Sally gave her mother a small smile, though it was more out of reassurance than anything else. “I’m fine, Mom,” she said quietly. “Really. It was just a lot, but I’m okay now.” Bridget sighed, still not entirely convinced, but she relaxed a little. “Alright,” she said softly, brushing a hand through Sally’s hair. “I’m just glad you’re home.” Theresa, sensing the emotional weight of the moment, stepped back slightly, giving mother and daughter their space. She could tell that Bridget’s hovering was coming from a place of love, but she also knew that Sally needed room to breathe. As they all settled back into the house, the day’s events started to feel a little further away. The tension was still there, but it had softened, replaced by the quiet comfort of being home. Sally, though still processing everything, felt a small spark of relief knowing that Theresa would be close by. And though her father was gone again, there was a sense that things were changing—for the better, just as Theresa had said. Chapter 36 – Home Sweet Home As soon as Theresa stepped out the front door, leaving mother and daughter alone, the atmosphere inside the house shifted. Bridget, still holding onto the anxiety of the day’s events, could see the weariness in her daughter’s posture, the slight droop of her shoulders, and the dark circles under her eyes. But beneath that, she saw the same need for care that had always been there, especially on difficult days like this. “How about we get you ready for bed, sweetheart?” Bridget suggested softly, her hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind Sally’s ear. “You’ve had a long day, and I think you could use some rest.” Sally nodded, her emotions drained. There was no resistance, no hesitation—just a quiet willingness to be cared for. The ritual of being diapered by her mother was more than just routine; it was a loving gesture that brought her comfort. It was an act that stripped away the complexities of the day and left only love and trust. “Come on,” Bridget said, guiding Sally with a light touch on her back toward her room. Sally followed, her body feeling the heaviness of the day beginning to lift, knowing what was coming—a deep sense of relaxation that always accompanied her mother’s care. She didn’t just want it tonight; she needed it. It wasn’t just the physical comfort of the diapering—it was the love, the attention, the feeling of being cradled by the one person who always knew what she needed. Once in her room, Sally let out a soft sigh, her body visibly relaxing as she lay back on the bed. Bridget noticed the change in her daughter’s demeanor, the small signals that showed Sally was already beginning to unwind. “Let’s get you comfortable,” Bridget said softly as she moved with practiced care, retrieving the supplies from the drawer by Sally’s bedside. The thick diaper was placed beside her, and the familiar scent of baby powder filled the air, bringing a sense of calm. Bridget also took out a booster pad, which wasn’t always part of the routine. Sally noticed the extra padding, her curiosity piqued. Her eyes flicked toward it, and Bridget smiled gently. “I thought this might help you feel extra relaxed tonight,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “It’s been a tough day, and I want you to sleep deeply.” Sally gave a small nod, her throat tightening with emotion she couldn’t quite express. The booster pad symbolized a little extra care, an added layer of protection that made her feel even more secure. She welcomed it. Bridget gently helped Sally sit up and slipped her soft sweater over her head, folding it neatly and placing it aside. Sally now sat in her undergarments, feeling the vulnerability of the moment, but knowing she was safe in her mother’s hands. Bridget guided her to lie back down, the comfort of the bed and her mother’s presence wrapping around her like a blanket. With gentle precision, Bridget unbottoned Sally’s jeans, sliding them down and folding them neatly. She then carefully removed Sally’s underwear, leaving her exposed but entirely comfortable in her mother’s care. There was no shame here, only love and trust. “There we go,” Bridget murmured softly as she slipped the diaper under Sally’s hips, ensuring it was perfectly positioned. Next, Bridget unfolded the booster pad and placed it carefully inside the diaper, securing it with practiced ease. “This will help you feel nice and snug,” she said, her voice a balm to Sally’s ears. Sally’s body relaxed further into the bed, feeling the familiar comfort of her mother’s touch, the soft rustle of the diaper, and the gentle scent of baby powder. The day’s tension slowly melted away. Bridget fastened the diaper snugly around Sally’s waist, her fingers working with care as she secured each tape. “All done,” she said with a soft smile, smoothing out the edges of the diaper. “How does that feel, love?” Sally wiggled slightly, feeling the added bulk of the booster pad, and smiled softly. “It feels… really good,” she whispered, her voice filled with contentment. Bridget leaned down and kissed Sally’s forehead tenderly, her heart swelling with love. “You’ve been such a good girl today,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve handled everything so well. I’m so proud of you.” The moment the words “good girl” left her mother’s lips, Sally felt a wave of warmth wash over her. A visible reaction crossed her face—her eyes fluttered closed, and her body seemed to relax even further, sinking deeply into the comfort of her bed. The phrase was like a soothing balm, touching a place in Sally that made her feel safe, loved, and completely at ease. Bridget noticed the subtle shift in her daughter’s features, the way Sally’s lips curved slightly as if she were being cradled in the very words. “There’s my good girl,” Bridget whispered again, her voice filled with tenderness. With the diaper snugly in place, Bridget gently helped Sally sit up, sliding a soft t-shirt over her head, and smoothing it down as Sally settled back into the bed. The bulk of the diaper and booster pad made her feel cocooned, protected in a way that no other act could replicate. As Sally lay back, her body completely relaxed, Bridget reached into the bedside drawer once more. She pulled out a pacifier and held it in her hand for a moment before offering it to Sally. “Here,” Bridget said gently, bringing the pacifier to Sally’s lips. “Just try it, sweetheart. I think it’ll help you relax even more tonight.” Sally’s lips parted hesitantly, a flicker of resistance crossing her face. But when her mother gently placed the pacifier between her lips, the resistance melted away, replaced by a tentative acceptance. She began to suckle softly, the motion slow and unsure at first, but within moments, it became steady. The rhythm of her sucking grew more relaxed, more natural, and soon, the tension in her features completely faded. Bridget watched as Sally’s body visibly loosened, the pacifier working its magic. Her daughter’s breathing became slow and even, her face softening into an expression of deep contentment. With the pacifier between her lips and the diaper snug around her waist, Sally looked utterly at peace. Bridget smiled warmly, leaning down to press one final kiss on Sally’s forehead. “Good night, sweet dreams, my pampered princess,” she whispered lovingly. Sally’s eyes fluttered closed, the rhythmic sucking on the pacifier lulling her further into a state of relaxation. The words “pampered princess” echoed softly in her mind, filling her with warmth. She didn’t resist the nickname—it made her feel cherished, special, and deeply loved. As Bridget quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind her, Sally drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. In that quiet, comforting space, wrapped in her mother’s care, everything felt right. -- Sally lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Her mind drifted back to the night before—the warmth of her mother's care, the comforting weight of the diaper, the pacifier that had lulled her into such a deep sleep. The memory filled her with a sense of contentment, though she now felt the growing discomfort in her bladder. She shifted slightly, feeling the bulk of the diaper against her. The booster pad added a noticeable thickness, making her feel secure but also increasing the pressure she felt. With a small sigh, she gave in, relaxing her body as she let her bladder release into the diaper. The familiar warmth spread through the padding, soothing her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. The tension that had built up in her stomach melted away, and she exhaled softly, her body finally able to relax fully. After a few moments of lying there, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the early morning, Sally stretched her arms above her head. The room was still bathed in dim light, and the house was completely still. She glanced toward her door, knowing her mother was still asleep in her own room down the hall. The idea of lying in bed, cocooned in the warmth of her diaper, was tempting, but the slight rumble in her stomach made her think otherwise. It was still early, but she was hungry. Quietly, Sally swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the thick diaper between her thighs as she moved. She stood up slowly, adjusting her balance to accommodate the added bulk. With her t-shirt barely covering the waistband of her diaper, she padded across her room, feeling the soft crinkle with each step. The sensation of the wet diaper pressing against her skin was both comforting and familiar, though it made her steps slightly wider, forcing her into a bit of a waddle. Sally quietly opened her door and stepped into the hallway. The house was still dark, save for the faint light creeping through the windows. She made her way carefully down the hallway, the crinkling sound of her diaper accompanying her every step. She paused at the top of the stairs, glancing toward her mother’s closed bedroom door. “Still asleep,” she thought to herself, relieved that she had some quiet time before her mom woke up. Her descent down the stairs was slow, her movements deliberate, as the bulk of her diaper made her shift her hips slightly with each step. Once she reached the bottom, the house opened up into the quiet kitchen and living room, the early morning light making everything look softer, more peaceful. Moving through the kitchen, she grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and some cereal from the pantry. She poured herself a generous portion, reaching for the milk and sitting down at the small breakfast table. As she spooned the cereal into her mouth, the silence of the house felt comforting—just her, in her soft diaper and t-shirt, enjoying a quiet morning before anyone else was awake. Sally let her mind wander, feeling the weight of the wet diaper still between her legs. She knew she'd need a change soon, but for now, she was content. The morning light filtered in through the kitchen windows, casting a soft glow across the room, and she took her time, savoring the peace and quiet of the early hours. Sally sat at the breakfast table, the cereal slowly disappearing from her bowl as she chewed thoughtfully. The house was still quiet, and her mother hadn’t yet come down from her room. The soft early morning light painted the kitchen in a peaceful glow, and for a moment, Sally allowed herself to fully sink into the silence. Her thoughts wandered, and she found herself reflecting on everything that had changed in the past few days. The meeting with Olivia, the overwhelming revelations about her trust, and the apartment in Soho—it was a lot to take in. She had never thought much about her family's wealth before, but now it seemed like everything had shifted. She leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly shifting in her wet diaper. The contrast of her new reality—the wealth, the trust, the responsibilities—and her current situation made her smile. “Rich girl wets her diaper,” she thought to herself with a soft chuckle. The thought was cheeky and amusing, but it made her feel oddly grounded. Here she was, someone with access to real estate in New York and assets she had barely begun to understand, sitting in her kitchen in a wet diaper. As she finished the last of her cereal, Sally let herself relax just a bit more, releasing into her diaper again. The warmth spread through the padding, and she couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Rich girl wets her diaper,” the phrase repeated in her head, this time with a playful edge. She could be out there, doing anything, buying anything—but here she was, still enjoying the comfort and security of something so simple. But she knew better. Sally wasn’t about to let her new status change who she was. The thought of all the things she could do—the extravagances she could indulge in—was almost laughable. She could buy cars, throw lavish parties, travel wherever she wanted. Yet, none of that really interested her. She preferred the quiet of her mornings, the warmth of the routine she shared with her mother. Her mind drifted to school and how the day ahead would go. Today was volleyball, and she looked forward to it. She loved playing with her friends, feeling the rush of competition and the camaraderie on the court. Katrina and Clara would be there, and they’d definitely ask about her father. She was sure of it. Katrina, especially, would tease her about the whole thing, likely throwing in some dramatic exclamations in Spanish for good measure. Sally smiled at the thought of her friends, but the smile faltered slightly as she wondered what she’d tell them. They knew some things about her life—about her father’s absence and their wealth—but she hadn’t told them everything. Should she mention the meeting with Olivia? The apartment in Soho? What would they think? Would they be impressed, or would it make things awkward? Her fingers played absently with the spoon in her bowl as she considered her options. “Maybe I should ask Mom what to say,” she thought. Her mother would know how to handle it—how to navigate the questions without giving too much away. Sally trusted her mother’s judgment and felt a bit better knowing she could rely on her for advice. The clock ticked softly in the background, and still, her mother hadn’t come downstairs. Sally didn’t mind the quiet, but she was curious about what her mother would say once she asked about her father. Bridget had always been calm and measured, even when talking about things as complicated as her relationship with Adrian. Sally knew she could depend on her mom to give her the right words to say. Her diaper crinkled softly as she shifted in her chair, pulling her thoughts back to the present. She smiled again, shaking her head slightly at the thought of how ridiculous and yet how right it felt to be sitting here like this. “Pampered princess,” her mother had called her. Maybe there was some truth to it after all. Sally stood up from the table, her diaper sagging slightly from the added wetness. The day ahead was full of possibilities—volleyball, time with friends, figuring out what to say about her father. She’d ask her mom soon enough, but for now, she relished the quiet of the morning, enjoying the stillness before the world woke up. -- Bridget made her way downstairs, still in her cozy robe, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. The house was quiet, except for the soft murmur of the television playing in the living room. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly where she’d find her daughter. As she entered the room, Bridget found Sally curled up on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her and a warm mug of coffee cradled in her hands. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. Sally was watching the morning news, her eyes focused on the screen, but there was a serene stillness about her, a calmness that Bridget immediately noticed. Sally was dressed just as Bridget expected: in her t-shirt and, unmistakably, her diaper beneath it, the soft crinkling sound barely audible as she shifted slightly to sip from her mug. The subtle sag of her diaper wasn’t lost on Bridget, who smiled knowingly. Bridget crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the armchair nearby, watching her daughter for a moment before speaking. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice warm with affection. Sally looked up, startled slightly, but then smiled. “Morning, Mom,” she replied, her voice soft and relaxed. Bridget raised an eyebrow, glancing at the coffee in her daughter’s hands. “Coffee, huh? Feeling extra grown-up this morning?” she teased gently. Sally grinned sheepishly, shifting a little in her seat. “I thought I’d start my day like an adult, you know?” she joked, but her eyes twinkled with the shared humor between them. Bridget chuckled, giving her daughter a knowing look. “Right, because a grown-up definitely starts their day with coffee… in a wet diaper.” She winked, her tone full of warmth and playfulness. Sally blushed, her cheeks turning a light pink, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I guess I’m still figuring it out,” she said with a grin, taking another sip of her coffee. Bridget shook her head fondly and leaned back in the armchair, watching her daughter with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. “You’ve always been my little multitasker, haven’t you? Drinking coffee, watching the news, and being my pampered princess—all at the same time.” Sally rolled her eyes at the nickname but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “You’re never going to let that one go, are you?” Bridget smirked. “Not a chance.” “How are you feeling?” Bridget asked after a moment, her tone shifting to one of concern. Sally shrugged, setting her mug down on the coffee table. “I’m okay, just thinking about today.” She hesitated, glancing at her mother. “I was thinking about what I’m going to tell Katrina and Clara about Dad. They’re going to ask, I just know it.” Bridget nodded thoughtfully, sensing her daughter’s unease. “You don’t have to give them every detail, you know. Just tell them what feels right. They’re your friends—they’ll understand.” Sally looked down at her hands, fidgeting slightly. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… a lot.” Bridget leaned forward, reaching out to gently touch Sally’s arm. “It is a lot, but you’ve been handling everything beautifully, sweetheart. And you know I’m always here if you need help with what to say.” Sally smiled softly at her mother’s reassurance, feeling the weight of her thoughts lift just a little. “Thanks, Mom,” she murmured. Bridget stood up and ruffled Sally’s hair playfully. “Now, how about we get you changed out of that soggy diaper before you start your day? Even my pampered princess needs to be fresh for school.” Sally laughed, her cheeks flushing again. “Yeah, probably a good idea,” she admitted, standing up from the sofa. As she stood, the crinkle of her wet diaper was unmistakable, and Bridget shook her head with a smile. “Come on, let’s get you sorted.” Together, they made their way upstairs, the bond between them stronger than ever, built on love, humor, and the shared understanding of their unique connection. -- The smell of fresh toast and eggs filled the kitchen as Bridget and Sally sat down together for breakfast. The sun was climbing higher, casting a warm glow through the window and making the morning feel peaceful. Sally, now dressed in her crisp school uniform—her pleated skirt and neatly pressed blouse—was much more alert than she had been earlier. The familiar routine of breakfast with her mother made her feel grounded, even after the whirlwind events of the past few days. As Sally took a bite of her toast, she noticed Bridget looking at her thoughtfully, like she had something on her mind. Sally raised an eyebrow, waiting for her mother to speak. “Sally,” Bridget began, her voice measured but calm. “There’s something I need to tell you about today.” Sally’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. “What is it, Mom?” she asked, already sensing that this was more than just the usual morning conversation. Bridget cleared her throat softly. “Theresa will be driving you to school this morning.” Sally blinked, her fork dropping back onto her plate as she stared at her mother in surprise. “Wait… what?” she said, the words coming out more stunned than she intended. “But I can take the bus.” Bridget gave her daughter a patient smile, as if she had anticipated this reaction. “I know you can, but things are changing, Sally. Your father doesn’t like the idea of you taking the bus anymore. He feels it’s safer and more appropriate for Theresa to fulfill her role as our assistant—and yes, that includes driving you to school.” Sally raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of confusion and unease settle in. “Like… a bodyguard?” she asked, her tone uncertain. Bridget sighed softly, reaching for her coffee. “Not exactly, but kind of. She’s here to help with more than just driving, Sally. Your father wants to make sure we have someone nearby who can handle anything we might need. Theresa is here for us—to assist with day-to-day things and keep an eye out for anything else.” Sally stared at her plate, trying to process what her mother was saying. She liked Theresa, really—she was capable, friendly, and had proven herself helpful already. The scenes at Trump Tower, especially in the bathroom, had shown Sally how understanding and protective Theresa could be. Theresa had helped her through one of the most vulnerable moments of her life without judgment or awkwardness. That had meant a lot to Sally. But still, having Theresa take such a central role in her life, and especially in something as mundane as driving her to school, felt… strange. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of suddenly having this much attention, this much protection. Sally took a breath, trying to find her footing in the conversation. “I mean, Theresa’s nice and everything, but it feels a little… much. Like, I can take care of myself, you know? I don’t need someone hovering over me.” Bridget smiled sympathetically. “I know, sweetheart. It’s a big change, and it might feel a bit strange at first. But your father’s just trying to make sure you’re safe. He’s worried about you, especially with all the changes happening now. And honestly, I think Theresa will make things easier for us. She’s very capable, and she’ll be around for more than just driving.” Sally sighed, leaning back in her chair and taking another bite of toast. She mulled over her mother’s words, still feeling a little uncertain. “I guess…” she muttered, her tone softening as she considered it. Bridget watched her daughter carefully, sensing her discomfort. “I get that it feels like a lot,” she said gently. “But remember what happened at Trump Tower? How Theresa helped you? She’s really good at reading situations and stepping in when she’s needed. I think you’ll get used to having her around. And you’ll always be able to set boundaries if something feels off.” Sally nodded slowly, her mind flashing back to that moment in the bathroom. Theresa had been there when she needed her most, holding her hair back, offering her support, and not once making her feel weak or embarrassed. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Theresa’s calm presence, Sally wasn’t sure how she would have made it through that overwhelming day. Still, the idea of having someone hovering around, especially at school, made her feel uncomfortable. “I know she’s great and all,” Sally said, her voice hesitant, “but I don’t want it to feel like I’m being watched all the time. I don’t want people thinking I’m different because I’ve got someone driving me around or looking after me.” Bridget leaned forward, placing a hand on Sally’s arm. “No one’s going to think that, Sally. And honestly, people probably won’t even notice. Theresa will be there when you need her, but she won’t be hovering. She’s professional. And more than that, she’s there for you, not to monitor you.” Sally sighed, feeling a bit more at ease but still unsure about the whole thing. “I guess I just need time to get used to it,” she admitted. Bridget nodded understandingly. “That’s perfectly fine. You’ll see how things go, and we can talk about it whenever you want. But for now, just try to keep an open mind. Your father really believes this is for the best, and I think Theresa will help make things smoother for both of us.” Sally looked down at her uniform, adjusting her pleated skirt slightly. The day ahead loomed in her mind—volleyball practice, classes, and the inevitable questions from Katrina and Clara about her father. She wasn’t sure what she’d tell them, but maybe after talking with her mother, she could figure out what felt right. “Okay,” Sally finally said, her voice firmer now. “I’ll try it out. But if it gets weird, I’m telling you.” Bridget smiled warmly, relief evident in her eyes. “Deal,” she said, squeezing Sally’s arm gently. “Now finish your breakfast. You don’t want to be late, even if you do have a personal chauffeur now.” Sally rolled her eyes but smiled at her mother’s teasing. “Pampered princess rides again,” she muttered, earning a chuckle from Bridget. As Sally took another bite of her toast, she felt the tiniest bit of relief. Things were changing, and though it was a lot to take in, maybe having someone like Theresa around wouldn’t be so bad after all. As Sally mulled over the news of Theresa driving her to school, Bridget sensed her daughter's lingering discomfort. The fork in Sally’s hand moved slowly as she processed the idea, but her furrowed brow and uncertain gaze made it clear that the change wasn’t sitting well with her yet. Bridget, ever perceptive, leaned forward a little, her voice soft but firm. “You know, Sally, we’re not the only family with an assistant or a driver. Plenty of your classmates probably have something similar.” Sally glanced up, meeting her mother’s eyes with a hint of acknowledgment. She knew it was true. It wasn’t uncommon in her school for other students to have personal drivers or assistants waiting for them at the end of the day. Some of her friends, like Katrina and Clara, lived in families where personal chauffeurs, nannies, or assistants were just a part of life. It wasn’t strange for them to get dropped off in fancy cars, picked up in SUVs, or have someone on standby to cater to their needs. Still, the idea of being lumped into that category—the "rich of the rich"—made Sally cringe inwardly. Sure, she had always known that her family had money, but it had never felt like a central part of her identity. She preferred blending in with her friends, being “normal.” But now, with Theresa becoming part of her daily routine, it felt like the line between her and the wealth she had avoided acknowledging was suddenly more visible. “I know,” Sally admitted, her voice quieter as she set her fork down. “A lot of the kids at school have drivers or assistants... I’ve just never felt like one of them.” Sally sighed, slumping slightly in her chair as she stared down at her plate. She wanted to push back, to insist that she didn’t need all the extra attention. But Bridget was right. Their circumstances were different now, and things were changing quickly. It wasn’t just about keeping up appearances or flaunting wealth—this was about adapting to a new reality that was unfolding, one that had started with her father's sudden involvement and everything she had learned about their financial situation. “It just feels weird,” Sally said after a pause, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I’ve always liked taking the bus. It’s normal. This feels… like a lot all at once.” Bridget nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. “I know it does. And it’s okay to feel uncomfortable about it at first. But give it some time. Theresa’s here to help, not just for the big stuff, but for the little things too. She’s on our side, Sally, and having her around doesn’t change who you are.” Sally fidgeted with the hem of her school skirt, biting her lip thoughtfully. She knew her mother was right. Theresa had proven to be reliable and kind during their trip to Trump Tower, and she didn’t feel judged or condescended to. If anything, Theresa had treated her like a capable young woman, not like a child. But the idea of having someone drive her to school—of being seen as part of that “rich” crowd—still made her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t ready to embrace the idea that she was different from her friends in such an obvious way. “I’ll give it a try,” Sally said, her voice hesitant but sincere. “But I don’t want it to feel like I’m showing off or something.” Bridget smiled gently. “No one’s asking you to show off, honey. You’re still you, no matter who drives you to school. And besides, plenty of other kids are in the same boat. It’s not about being better or different—it’s just what works best for us right now.” Sally nodded, still processing the shift, but feeling a little better with her mother’s reassurance. She knew Katrina and Clara wouldn’t care who drove her, but the thought of standing out in such an obvious way was still something she’d have to get used to. “Okay, okay,” Sally finally said, with a small, resigned smile. “But I’m still not calling her a bodyguard.” Bridget chuckled, relieved to see a bit of humor return to her daughter’s face. “Fair enough,” she said, standing up to clear the dishes. “Just think of her as part of our team.” Sally finished the last bite of her breakfast, feeling a little more at ease. The day ahead would still be filled with questions, especially from her friends, but at least she knew she wasn’t alone in figuring it all out. And though the idea of having an “assistant” was still strange, Sally had to admit—if she had to have someone, she was glad it was Theresa. Chapter 37 - Bodyguard Sally was halfway down the stairs, adjusting the straps of her backpack, when she dectected a car pulling up the driveway. She glanced through the window, pausing for a moment as she spotted the silver Mercedes SUV pulling up to the curb. Her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. It looked similar to her mom's red SUV but was more understated—definitely not flashy, just… normal. It almost blended in, which was surprising considering how everything about the last few days had felt anything but normal. Sally made her way to the front door and opened it slowly. Theresa gave Sally a friendly nod. The tall, blonde woman moved with her usual efficiency, her posture relaxed yet professional as she waved to Sally. "Good morning, Sally," Theresa said warmly, her tone casual but inviting. "Ready?" Sally hesitated for a second, still getting used to this new routine. She had grown to like Theresa in the short time they'd known each other, especially after what had happened at Trump Tower, but it still felt strange to have someone like her—an assistant—now taking such a central role in her day-to-day life. She raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the SUV again. "Is this yours?" Sally asked, half-joking but genuinely curious as she climbed into the front passenger seat. The soft leather seats were comfortable, and the interior smelled faintly of new car, even though it was clearly meant to be discreet. Theresa chuckled as she settled back into the driver’s seat, buckling her seatbelt. "Not exactly mine. Your dad arranged it—he wanted something practical but low-key. So, this is what he picked. Nothing flashy, just a functional, everyday car." Sally nodded, feeling a little better about the car’s understated nature. It wasn’t over the top, and that made her feel a bit more at ease. She adjusted her seatbelt and turned to Theresa, trying to figure out how to break the ice. "So…," Sally began hesitantly, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her backpack. "What exactly do I tell my friends about all of this? You driving me, I mean. They’re definitely going to ask." Theresa glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, her expression thoughtful. She took a moment before responding, clearly wanting to say the right thing. "You don’t have to overthink it," Theresa said gently. "You can just tell them that your dad wants you more involved in some family business stuff, and your mom’s been really busy with her charity work. So, I’m here to help out with whatever’s needed." She paused for a moment, her tone casual but reassuring. "Nothing dramatic, just practical." Sally nodded slowly, mulling over Theresa’s words. "That sounds simple enough," she admitted. "But it still feels… I don’t know, like people are going to think I’m part of the ‘rich crowd’ now." Theresa smiled, sensing Sally’s discomfort. "Well, the truth is, a lot of kids at your school probably already have drivers, assistants, and all sorts of things. You wouldn’t be the only one. But I get it—you don’t want to stand out." Sally shrugged, shifting slightly in her seat. "Yeah, it’s just… I’ve always been able to take care of myself. Now it feels like I’m being watched or something." Theresa nodded, her gaze still focused on the road. "I hear you, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m hovering. I’m really just here to help when you need it. Think of me as… well, more like an older sister or someone you can rely on. If something comes up, I’ll be there. But I’m not here to get in your way or make things awkward for you." Sally smirked, appreciating Theresa’s down-to-earth approach. "Older sister, huh? That might take some getting used to." Theresa laughed softly. "Well, I’m definitely not a bodyguard—let’s clear that up right now. But your dad did ask me to keep an eye on things, so I’ll be around. Nothing too intense. Just another person on your team." Sally’s tension eased a bit at that. She could handle having Theresa around if it meant she wasn’t going to feel smothered or scrutinized. Plus, after the Trump Tower incident, she trusted Theresa more than she had expected to. As they drove through the quiet streets, the soft hum of the SUV filling the space between them, Sally found herself more curious about Theresa’s role. "So, you’re still working for my dad, right?" Sally asked, glancing sideways at her. Theresa nodded. "Yep, I still manage a lot of his stuff remotely. But I’m also here to help with anything you and your mom might need—whether it’s handling financial things or just being a support. Your dad felt like it was important to have someone close by who could help with both family and business affairs." Sally raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like... everything?" Theresa smiled. "Pretty much. I’ve been doing this for a while, so don’t worry. It’s just part of the job." She glanced at Sally, then added in a lighter tone, "And trust me, I won’t be following you around school or anything. I’ll be waiting by the car when you’re ready to go home." Sally let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The idea of Theresa following her around school was too much to bear, and she was relieved to know that wasn’t part of the plan. "Okay," Sally said, feeling a little more comfortable. "That sounds better. I just… don’t want to stand out more than I already do." Theresa gave her a warm smile. "You won’t, I promise. We’ll keep things low-key. And if you ever need me to back off, just say the word." Sally nodded, appreciating Theresa’s straightforwardness. She still felt a little awkward about the whole situation, but it wasn’t as bad as she had initially feared. Theresa seemed cool about it all—like she wasn’t taking things too seriously, even though she was clearly there to help. As they pulled up to the school gates, Sally glanced around, feeling relieved that there wasn’t a crowd watching her get out of the car. Theresa slowed the car down, pulling smoothly into a parking spot close to the entrance. "Here we are," Theresa said with a smile, shifting the car into park. "I’ll be here to pick you up after school. Same deal, no big fuss." Sally nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Thanks, Tess," she said, the new nickname slipping out naturally, and she smiled at how easy it felt to say. Theresa grinned at the nickname, clearly liking it. "No problem, kiddo. Have a great day, and remember—you can always text me if you need anything." Sally gave her a small wave as she climbed out of the car, feeling surprisingly better about the whole thing. As she walked toward the school entrance, she glanced back at the silver Mercedes, watching as Theresa gave her a thumbs-up before pulling out of the parking lot. "Not so bad after all," Sally thought to herself as she made her way inside, feeling more at ease. It wasn’t perfect, and there was still a part of her that felt uneasy about all the changes, but at least she had Tess. That made things a little easier to handle. -- As Sally approached the school courtyard, she spotted Katrina waiting for her, as expected. Katrina, always full of energy, waved enthusiastically, though today her excitement seemed a little more contained than usual. “Saaally! ¡Por fin!” Katrina called out with a grin, walking over to meet her. “You’re late! What took you so long?” Sally smiled as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Just had to deal with a few things at home. Nothing too exciting.” Katrina raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, but she didn’t launch into her usual barrage of questions right away. “Hmm, sounds mysterious,” she teased, though her tone was softer than usual. “Anything I should know about?” Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Not really. Just some family stuff. You know how it is.” Katrina nodded, but couldn’t resist a small smirk. “Family stuff, huh? That sounds suspiciously vague.” Sally sighed, though she couldn’t help but smile at Katrina’s persistence. “It’s just that my dad’s in town for a bit, and my mom’s super busy with work. We’ve got someone helping out around the house while he’s here.” “Ah, got it,” Katrina replied, leaning in a little closer. “Is this ‘someone’ interesting? Or is it just boring grown-up help?” Sally chuckled. “No, it’s not like that. Theresa’s just an assistant helping out with stuff while my dad’s away again. That’s it.” Katrina shrugged, her curiosity now shifting to something else. “Hmm, okay. I was hoping for a juicier story, but I’ll let it slide this time.” Before Sally could respond, Clara appeared beside them, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Are we all good here? Or is Katrina still digging for secrets?” Katrina gave an exaggerated sigh. “Ay, Clara, I wasn’t even that bad this time!” she protested, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. Sally smiled, feeling more at ease now that the conversation had settled into their usual banter. “You’re always digging for secrets, Katrina.” “Well, someone has to keep things interesting,” Katrina replied, her voice playful but not as over-the-top as usual. Clara chuckled and nudged Sally. “Ignore her. Let’s head inside before we’re late.” The three girls walked toward the school building together, chatting lightly as they made their way across the courtyard. Katrina still stole the occasional curious glance at Sally, but for now, the questions seemed to have run their course. Sally felt a small wave of relief wash over her. The conversation had been much easier than she expected, and she was grateful for the calm, playful mood between them. At least for now, everything felt under control. -- As the trio made their way toward the school entrance, Katrina wasn’t done with her teasing. Her mischievous grin reappeared, and Sally could sense another comment coming. “So,” Katrina began, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “if this Theresa is here to help with everything, does that mean she’s going to help your mom with the real important stuff? Like changing diapers and taking care of the beautiful baby?” Sally stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening slightly as her face flushed a deep pink. “Katrina! Seriously?” she exclaimed, though her voice was more shocked than angry. The words hit a little too close to home, and Sally found herself caught between embarrassment and the humor of the situation. Clara, always one to play along, nodded seriously, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, Sally, you know. Your mom’s going to need all the help she can get with such a precious baby around. Theresa probably has that covered too.” Sally’s blush deepened, and she let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush off the comment as nothing more than their usual banter. “You two are impossible,” she said, shaking her head, though she couldn’t help but smile. Inside, though, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder—what would happen if Theresa ever found out about her secret? The thought of her knowing about the diapers, the vulnerability it brought, made Sally’s stomach flip a little. She liked Theresa well enough and had started to trust her, especially after Trump Tower, but there was something so personal, so intimate about this side of her life. It wasn’t something she was ready to share, especially not with someone new. Katrina, oblivious to Sally’s inner turmoil, pressed on with her teasing. “Hey, if she’s going to be your assistant, she’s got to be prepared for everything, right? I mean, taking care of a princess is hard work!” Clara chuckled and chimed in. “Exactly. Pampered Princess duties require extra attention.” Sally, still blushing but trying to keep up with the humor, rolled her eyes. “You two are ridiculous.” She managed to laugh, even though her thoughts were still racing. The banter, while playful, left a lingering question in Sally’s mind. She had been doing her best to keep her secret contained, and up until now, only her mom knew the full extent of it. But with Theresa around more often and getting involved in their family life, Sally wondered how long she’d be able to keep everything hidden. She shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts aside for now. She wasn’t going to let Katrina’s teasing get to her—not today. There were other things to focus on, like volleyball practice and making it through the school day without too many more questions about her dad. Still, as they entered the building and Katrina’s jokes faded into the background, the thought lingered: What if Theresa found out? Katrina, always one to push the teasing a little further, gave Sally a sideways glance and smirked. "Well, at least today is Volleyball practice," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "And I get to see you naked in the showers." Sally’s face turned red again, though this time the embarrassment was mixed with amusement. “Katrina!” she exclaimed, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.” Katrina winked, unashamed. “Hey, it’s not my fault. If the school insists on group showers after practice, who am I to complain?” She raised an eyebrow suggestively, clearly enjoying Sally’s reaction. Sally shook her head but finally admitted, “Well, showering together won’t be too unpleasant, I guess.” Her tone was light, and though she was still blushing, there was a playfulness in her voice. At this, Clara whined dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Ugh, why do you two get all the fun? I feel so left out. No group showers after chess practice!" The girls burst into laughter, the tension from earlier completely forgotten as they shared the moment of humor. Katrina and Sally exchanged a quick glance, clearly amused at Clara’s mock-jealousy. “You’ll just have to take up a real sport, Clara,” Katrina teased, nudging her playfully. Clara rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Chess is a real sport, thank you very much. But fine, I’ll admit, your post-volleyball showers do sound a bit more exciting than sitting in the library with a bunch of nerds like me." Sally laughed, feeling lighter with each joke they shared. The earlier awkwardness was gone, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the banter. “Well, maybe we can petition for a chess shower. I’m sure it would be a big hit.” "With me, at least," Katrina chimed in, grinning as the girls continued toward their classes. Katrina suddenly reached out and gently took Clara’s hand, her playful expression softening just a little. With a knowing look in her eyes, she glanced toward Clara and said, “We can take care of your shower after school.” Her voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable affection behind it. Clara’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she smiled back at Katrina, her gaze softening. “Oh, really?” she replied, her voice laced with mock skepticism. “You think so?” Without missing a beat, Katrina leaned in and kissed Clara, a quick but tender kiss that seemed to silence any further teasing for the moment. The connection between them was evident, the playful banter fading into something more personal and affectionate. Sally, standing beside them, smiled warmly at the scene. Though Katrina often flirted with everyone—including her—there was something different when it came to Clara. The teasing always turned into something genuine, something deeper. And despite the constant jokes and the lighthearted nature of their relationship, moments like these reminded Sally of just how much the two cared for each other. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?” Sally teased, breaking the brief silence, though her tone was full of affection for her friends. Katrina turned to Sally with a smirk, still holding Clara’s hand. “Oh, don’t be jealous, querida. There’s enough love to go around.” She winked dramatically, earning a playful nudge from Clara. “Yeah, yeah,” Sally laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll leave you two to your post-school shower plans.” As they headed inside for the start of the school day, the warmth of their friendship carried them forward. Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this—where everything felt light, fun, and full of love. No matter what happened with her family or her new routine, she knew she had her friends by her side, and that made all the difference. Clara, still holding Katrina's hand, turned to Sally with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You know,” she said lightly, “you can join us if you want.” Sally blinked, taken aback for a second. The suggestion was delivered with Clara’s usual sense of humor, but there was a genuine openness to it. Her blush deepened, though she laughed it off, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, sure, right,” Sally replied, her voice teasing but slightly flustered. “I’m sure that wouldn’t be awkward at all.” Katrina leaned in with a grin, giving Sally a playful nudge. “Hey, the offer’s there! We’re all friends here, right?” Her tone was full of her usual mischievous energy, but Sally knew she was half-serious. Clara giggled, squeezing Katrina’s hand and adding with a wink, “Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.” Sally rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on this one. You two can have your shower plans to yourselves.” Katrina pouted dramatically, though the playful glint never left her eyes. “Your loss,” she said, turning her attention back to Clara and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Clara chuckled softly, her eyes still twinkling with amusement. “We’ll hold you to it next time,” she teased. Sally shook her head, smiling as they walked into school together. As much as they joked, she felt lucky to have friends who were so comfortable with themselves—and with her. Even if they teased her mercilessly, it was all in good fun, and the affection between them was always genuine. As they headed to class, the playful invitation lingered in the air, a reminder of the bond they shared—one built on trust, laughter, and a little bit of flirting. As the playful banter faded and the three of them made their way into the school building, Sally found herself trailing just a step behind Katrina and Clara, her mind suddenly swirling with the last thing Clara had said: “You can join us.” The words replayed in her head, and she could feel her cheeks growing warm again. It was a joke—she knew that. They were always teasing her, always flirting in a lighthearted way that was just part of their dynamic. But something about the invitation lingered in her mind, stirring something deeper. The idea of the three of them together—showering, laughing, maybe even more—sent a wave of heat through her that she hadn’t expected. She bit her lip, trying to shake the feeling, but the allure of it clung to her thoughts. It was just a silly suggestion, she told herself, but the thought refused to let go. Katrina and Clara walked ahead, still holding hands, and their easy closeness only made Sally feel more aware of her own body, the heat in her face spreading down to her chest. She’d always admired them—how open they were with each other, how fearless and unapologetic they were in their affection. And now, the playful idea of being included in that intimacy was making her feel hot and bothered in a way she hadn’t anticipated. "Focus, Sally," she muttered to herself under her breath, trying to snap out of it. But the thought of the three of them together—laughing, touching, being so comfortable—made her stomach twist in a way that was hard to ignore. Her steps faltered for a moment, and she felt a flush creep up her neck. "It’s just a joke," she reminded herself, trying to shake off the sensation. But as much as she tried to brush it off, the allure of the idea stayed with her, simmering in the background of her thoughts as they made their way to class. Sally glanced at Katrina and Clara again, watching them exchange a small kiss before they entered the school doors. A part of her wondered what it would feel like to be that carefree, to just let go and enjoy the moment without overthinking it. As they reached the hallway, Sally took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew she needed to focus on the day ahead—on volleyball practice, on everything else that mattered—but the playful invitation from her friends stayed with her, tugging at the edges of her mind, making her wonder what it might feel like to be part of something more. For now, though, she kept the thought tucked away, smiling as she joined her friends, knowing that even if she was feeling a bit flustered, the bond they shared was something special. And that, for the moment, was enough. -- The gym was already alive with the sounds of bouncing volleyballs and the chatter of the girls as they stretched and prepared for practice. Sally sat on the floor, tying her sneakers, when she heard the familiar voice of Katrina approaching from behind. “Ugh, these shorts again,” Katrina groaned, tugging at the waistband of her loose gym shorts. She cast a dramatic look at Sally. “Seriously, when are we going to get the tight ones like every other school? I swear, we’d be so much faster if we didn’t look like we were playing in pajamas.” Sally chuckled, knowing Katrina was never one to let the uniform debate die. “Right, because tighter shorts are definitely going to make you play better. It’s not about ogling everyone at all, is it?” Katrina gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “How dare you! I am here for the sport, the love of the game, Sally. The shorts are purely for performance!” She winked playfully, her eyes glinting with mischief. Before Sally could respond, Monica, one of their teammates, joined in, overhearing the conversation. “Yeah, right, Katrina,” she said, rolling her eyes with a grin. “We all know you just want to make practice a little more… interesting.” Katrina laughed, giving a dramatic shrug. “Hey, I’m just saying. A little eye candy wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Sally shook her head, smiling as she stood up to finish stretching. “You’re hopeless, Katrina.” As practice started, the banter continued between the girls as they worked through their drills. Katrina’s complaints about the loose shorts only intensified as they ran sprints, the thudding of their sneakers echoing through the gym. “Why do we have to do this? This isn’t track! We’re supposed to be playing volleyball, not training for the Olympics!” Katrina panted, slowing her pace dramatically. Sally jogged alongside her, a grin spreading across her face. “Maybe if you weren’t so focused on your fashion complaints, you’d keep up. Can’t chase the ball if you’re this slow.” Katrina groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s the shorts, I swear! Give me the tight ones and I’ll be unstoppable.” “Uh-huh,” Sally replied with a smirk. “Keep telling yourself that.” As they split into teams for a practice game, Sally found herself facing off against Katrina, who was still clearly more interested in teasing than playing. During one particularly clumsy spike attempt, Katrina missed the ball entirely, and Sally couldn’t resist a jab. “What happened? I thought the shorts weren’t supposed to hold you back?” Katrina, never short on excuses, pointed to the ceiling dramatically. “The lighting, Sally! The lighting’s all wrong in here. It’s throwing off my game.” Monica, laughing from her side of the net, called over, “Right, because we definitely have stadium lighting in the gym. Keep trying, Katrina.” Katrina shrugged with a grin, brushing off the teasing. “I’m just saying, we need more atmosphere. Maybe some mood lighting, a fog machine—make it feel like the real deal.” “And music!” Anastasia added, giggling as she served the ball. “Can’t forget the music for Katrina’s performance.” As the game wrapped up, the girls were sweating, panting from the hard work. The joking and lighthearted banter gave way to the feeling of camaraderie that always came after an intense practice. Katrina, ever the drama queen, collapsed onto the gym floor with a groan. “I can’t feel my legs,” she declared dramatically, splayed out like a starfish. “Someone carry me. I’m done for.” Sally stood over her, shaking her head as she grabbed her water bottle. **“It’s called exercise, Katrina. You signed up for this, remember?” Katrina waved a hand in dismissal, still lying on the floor. “Exercise is overrated. I’m here for the aesthetics.” She peeked one eye open. “And maybe the showers.” Sally grinned, rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” As the girls headed toward the locker room, Anastasia fell in step with Sally. **“So, how was your dad’s visit? You were gone yesterday, right?” Sally hesitated for a second, still feeling a little unsure about how much she wanted to share. “Yeah, I spent the day with him. Nothing too crazy, just catching up. He’s been busy.” Anastasia nodded, accepting the answer easily enough. “That’s nice. Family time’s important.” Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was more relaxed as the girls undressed for the showers. Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for teasing, caught Sally’s eye as she tugged her shirt over her head. “Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for. The showers,” Katrina said with a wink, giving Sally a playful nudge. Sally blushed, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.” The locker room was filled with the sound of clothes being tossed into lockers, the girls chatting and laughing as they peeled off their uniforms. As they walked into the showers, the steam rising from the hot water, there was an unspoken trust between them. Sharing shower heads, passing around shampoo, it was a moment of comfortable routine—something intimate, but never awkward. Sally stepped under one of the shower heads, feeling the hot water cascade over her tired muscles. Katrina, as usual, ended up next to her, her hands full of suds as she scrubbed shampoo into her curls. She nudged Sally again, a playful grin on her face as she leaned closer. “You know, I could get used to this,” Katrina said, her voice low and teasing. “Just me, you, and the shower. Not bad, huh?” Sally blushed again, feeling the warmth of Katrina’s presence. She knew it was all in fun, but there was something about the way Katrina flirted with her that made her heart race a little. She enjoyed the attention, even if she didn’t fully know how to respond. “Yeah, well, you’d better not make a habit of it,” Sally said with a laugh, flicking a little water at Katrina. Katrina grinned, flicking some back. “Oh, don’t worry, Sally. I only reserve this kind of attention for special people.” The showers were filled with the sounds of water splashing, laughter echoing off the tile walls, and the playful teasing that seemed to come naturally to the group. There was something comforting about the ritual, the way they could be vulnerable around each other without a second thought. Sally let herself relax, enjoying the moment, and even the light flirting from Katrina didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, she found herself smiling more, enjoying the connection. As they finished showering and dried off, the girls filed back into the locker room, still chatting and joking. Sally felt lighter, more at ease, and as she glanced at Katrina out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the playful, easygoing friendship they shared. She might not always know how to handle Katrina’s teasing, but one thing was for sure—she wouldn’t trade moments like these for anything. Chapter 38 - Ninja As Sally settled into the soft leather seat of the silver Mercedes, she glanced out the window, watching the school fade behind them. Theresa glanced at her briefly, adjusting the GPS for the route home before turning her attention back to the road. They drove in silence for a few moments, the hum of the engine the only sound in the car. Sally fiddled with the strap of her backpack, not entirely sure how to begin a conversation. Theresa, ever perceptive, sensed the hesitance. “So,” she began softly, breaking the silence without putting pressure on Sally. “How was school today?” Sally shrugged, still staring out the window. “It was fine. Just… the usual stuff, I guess.” Theresa waited a beat, giving Sally room to continue, but the teenager remained quiet. Theresa tried again, her tone light. “Any fun volleyball stories? You mentioned practice earlier.” Sally hesitated, glancing over at Theresa as if testing the waters before she finally spoke. “Well, yeah. We had practice today. Katrina—she’s one of my friends—was going on about the shorts again. She always complains about our uniforms, saying we should wear the tighter ones like other schools. She’s convinced we’d all be faster or something.” Theresa chuckled softly. “That sounds like something a lot of high schoolers would say. Is she serious, or just trying to stir things up?” Sally’s lips twitched into a smile. “Definitely stirring things up. That’s just Katrina. She’s always making a fuss about something, but it’s usually just for attention. Today she kept complaining about how the loose shorts make her slower, but everyone knows she’s just being dramatic.” “Sounds like she likes to keep things lively,” Theresa said, giving Sally a sideways glance. Sally nodded. “Yeah, that’s Katrina for you. She’s always got something to say. Then there’s Clara. She’s… well, the complete opposite. She’s quiet, serious, and she’s on the chess team, so she’s not even into sports. But somehow, the three of us just… click.” Theresa smiled, sensing Sally was starting to relax. “That’s nice, having a mix of personalities. Keeps things balanced, I bet. What do you and your friends get up to outside of school?” Sally thought for a moment, the conversation easing her nerves a bit. “Not much lately. Mostly we just hang out, talk, watch movies. Sometimes we’ll go to the mall or grab something to eat. Nothing too exciting.” Theresa nodded, steering the car smoothly around a corner. “Sounds like a good group of friends. It’s important to have that, especially when things get a little crazy with school and everything else.” Sally hummed in agreement but grew quiet again, her thoughts swirling. She wasn’t used to talking about herself like this, but something about Theresa’s calm, non-judgmental presence made her feel like it was okay to share. After a few moments, Sally ventured to ask a question of her own, her curiosity growing. “So… what about you?” Sally asked tentatively. “I mean, you’re driving me around and helping my mom with stuff. What do you actually do, besides, you know, all of that?” Theresa glanced at Sally, surprised and moved by the question. It wasn’t often she was asked about herself, especially in this line of work. Most people saw her as the assistant, the one handling logistics and managing tasks in the background. “Well,” Theresa began, her tone thoughtful. “My day isn’t all driving and organizing, though that’s a big part of it. Today, I spent most of the day prepping for meetings your dad has coming up next week. Some presentations, a few calls. But I also managed to squeeze in a jog this morning before work started.” Sally’s interest piqued at that. “Jogging? I like jogging, too, but I never seem to have time for it. Between school, volleyball, and… everything else, it’s hard to fit it in.” Theresa nodded, understanding. “I know what you mean. Life gets busy, and it’s easy to push things like that to the side. But I’ve learned that if you want to fit something in, you have to make time for it. Usually, that means getting up earlier for me. I like to get in at least four miles before the day really starts.” Sally looked at her, clearly impressed. “Four miles? Wow. I don’t know if I could do that. I’d probably collapse halfway through.” Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. “You’d be surprised what you can do once you get used to it. Besides, you’re already athletic with volleyball—you’ve got the stamina. It’s just a matter of finding the routine that works for you.” Sally smiled wistfully, her eyes drifting out the window again. “I should try that sometime. I’ve always wanted to, but I’m terrible at getting up early.” Theresa shot her a warm smile. “It’s not for everyone, but if you ever want to give it a go, I wouldn’t mind the company. We could go for a jog sometime, see if you like it.” Sally felt a small flutter of excitement at the idea. It was strange—just a few days ago, she hadn’t even known Theresa that well, and now here they were, talking about jogging together like it was the most normal thing in the world. She liked that. The conversation flowed more easily now as they drove, the nervous energy Sally had felt earlier dissipating. She was beginning to see Theresa in a different light—not just as her dad’s assistant, but as someone she could genuinely talk to. Someone who cared about more than just logistics. “What else do you do? I mean, outside of work?” Sally asked, leaning back in her seat a little, feeling more comfortable now. “Do you have any hobbies or anything?” Theresa smiled, clearly pleased that Sally was taking an interest in her. “Well, besides running, I like to hike when I can, though that’s been harder with all the traveling. I also love to read—mostly non-fiction, biographies, history, that kind of thing. But I try to stay active as much as possible. It helps clear my head.” Sally nodded, impressed by how much Theresa seemed to juggle. “You sound really busy, but in a good way. I wish I had that much time for everything. It feels like I’m always running around between school, volleyball, and… you know, just trying to keep up with stuff.” Theresa’s expression softened. “I get that. It’s a lot, but you’re handling it well. And remember, you don’t have to do everything perfectly. It’s okay to take breaks when you need them.” Sally smiled, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, maybe. I guess I’ll just have to find time for it.” As they pulled into the driveway of her house, the conversation felt lighter, more relaxed. Sally hopped out of the car, grabbing her backpack. “I’m going to get changed really quick,” she called over her shoulder as she opened the front door. “Be down in a minute.” Theresa nodded, standing by the hallway as Sally darted up the stairs to her room. Sally felt lighter as she took the stairs two at a time, feeling good about their conversation. Theresa wasn’t just some assistant handling things behind the scenes. She was interesting, easy to talk to, and Sally found herself appreciating the new connection between them. -- Sally stood in her room, her mind racing as she stood in just her bra and panties, having shed her school uniform. The soft lighting from her walk-in closet illuminated the rows of clothes, but nothing seemed to catch her eye. Her gaze wandered, searching for inspiration, and then locked onto an unopened package of Ninjamas tucked snugly beside an opened pack of Goodnites. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. Her fingers itched to reach for the Ninjamas, curiosity bubbling inside her. It had been a while since she'd even considered wearing pull-ups. Since transitioning to full diapers at night, she hadn’t gotten around to trying them. Without thinking much further, she stepped toward the package and let her fingers graze the smooth, crinkling material. A thrill shot through her as she pulled one out, appreciating the soft texture and colorful designs. The logical part of her brain told her she should be getting dressed—Theresa was waiting downstairs—but a nagging thought tugged at her. Should she wear one to the mall? It was discreet enough. She had worn Goodnites out before, why not now? The rush of excitement hit her, the thrill of hiding something so personal out in the open. Resolving to wear one, Sally carefully placed the Ninjama on the bed and shifted through her clothes, trying to figure out what outfit would work best. She wanted something loose, something that would hide the slight bulk without making her uncomfortable. Clad in only her underwear, she picked up a bright blue hoodie, loving how big and loose it felt on her. It was perfect for days when she wanted to feel cozy and a little more protected. Pairing it with a relaxed pair of jeans, she felt satisfied. With a quick, almost hesitant movement, Sally slid her panties down and pulled up the Ninjamas instead. The soft fabric hugged her in just the right way, and she admired the fit for a moment before stepping in front of the mirror for a quick twirl. She smiled at the reflection—everything looked discreet, and only she would know the secret she was carrying. Feeling a small rush of adrenaline, Sally tugged on her hoodie and slipped into the loose jeans, finishing her look. She grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs, her heart pounding slightly from the small act of rebellion. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Theresa was still standing in the hallway, waiting patiently. Sally blushed slightly, surprised. "Sorry for the delay," Sally apologized quickly, her cheeks warming as she approached. Theresa smiled, shaking her head. "No problem at all. You could've made yourself comfortable, though. You didn’t have to stand there the whole time." Theresa chuckled, her voice easygoing. "I’m fine. Ready to head out?" Sally nodded, feeling both excited and slightly nervous about her hidden secret. They made their way outside and climbed into the car, the leather seats cool against Sally’s legs. As Theresa started the engine, Sally settled in, her heart racing with both excitement and nervousness. She was wearing a Ninjama. And only she knew. -- As they pulled away from Sally’s house and headed toward the mall, the change in Sally's mood was unmistakable. During the earlier drive home from school, she had been polite but reserved, only engaging when necessary. But now, after a quick change into her clothes—and with her secret Ninjamas snugly in place—Sally seemed to carry a lighter, more carefree energy. She sat comfortably in the passenger seat, feeling as though she could conquer the world, a quiet smile playing on her lips. Theresa noticed the shift, glancing at her with curiosity. "So, what’s the plan at the mall? You got anything specific you’re shopping for?" Sally leaned back, already feeling more talkative than before. "I actually need some new jogging clothes. I realized earlier that most of my stuff is either old or too small. Since I’m thinking about starting to jog more, I figured it’s time for an update." Theresa smiled, clearly approving. "That’s a great idea. It’s always nice to have something fresh for your workouts. Anything in particular you’re looking for?" Sally tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, it’s already spring, and I’m thinking ahead to summer. I want something light but still supportive, you know? Something that’ll make me actually want to get out there." Theresa nodded. "Smart thinking. You should definitely check out some summer gear. Light, breathable stuff will make a huge difference in the heat." Sally turned her head to look at Theresa, feeling a little bolder. "What about you? Do you update your gear often, or are you one of those people who wears the same outfit until it’s falling apart?" Theresa laughed. "I try to stay updated, but I’m guilty of sticking to my favorite pieces for way too long. I have this one pair of running shoes I’ve been holding onto for years—probably should’ve replaced them by now." Sally grinned. "Sounds like me. I’ve got this old hoodie that I always wear when I run. It’s basically my good luck charm at this point." Theresa glanced at her, a playful glint in her eyes. "Hoodies are great for cool weather, but summer’s coming. What about a swimsuit? Are you thinking about getting any new swim gear for the season?" Sally blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. "Swimsuit? Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it." Theresa grinned knowingly. "It’s spring, which means summer is right around the corner. You know how the seasons sneak up on us. Besides, aren’t you the bikini type?" Sally laughed, blushing slightly at the question. "Bikini? I don’t know… I mean, maybe? I usually stick to one-piece suits, but I guess I could try something different this year." Theresa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You should. If you’re updating your jogging gear, why not go all out? A new swimsuit could be fun. I’m sure you’d rock a bikini." Sally’s blush deepened, but she felt more playful than embarrassed. "Maybe… I’ll think about it. It would be fun to try something new." "That’s the spirit," Theresa said with a wink. "Plus, if you’re going to start jogging, you’ll need something to cool off in when the summer heat hits. You’ll be ready for the beach or the pool." Sally smiled, feeling more adventurous than usual. The idea of updating not only her jogging gear but also stepping out of her comfort zone with a new swimsuit was exciting. And the easy banter with Theresa made it even better. She felt freer, more confident, as if nothing could bring her down. As they continued driving toward the mall, the conversation flowed easily. Sally found herself asking more about Theresa’s jogging routine, curious about how to make the most of her own. "So, how long have you been jogging regularly?" Sally asked, feeling genuinely interested in hearing more about Theresa’s habits. "Years now," Theresa said, glancing at her. "I started back when I was in the Navy, and it just stuck. It’s like therapy for me, honestly. Clears my mind, helps me stay focused." Sally nodded. "That sounds awesome. I need something like that. I think that’s why I want to start jogging more—something to help me clear my head." Theresa smiled. "You’ll love it once you get into a rhythm. And if you’re ever looking for a jogging buddy, you know where to find me." Sally grinned, feeling the excitement bubble up again. "I might take you up on that. I need to get better shoes and clothes first, though." "Well, lucky for you, we’re headed to the right place for that," Theresa said with a chuckle. Sally nodded, feeling the anticipation of the shopping trip settle in. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, and it was a welcome change. Wearing her Ninjamas gave her a secret layer of confidence, and it showed in the way she was carrying herself—more open, more willing to embrace new things. As they pulled into the mall parking lot, Sally was already mentally planning her purchases. New jogging clothes were at the top of her list, but maybe, just maybe, she’d step out of her comfort zone and try on a bikini, too. It was shaping up to be a day of changes, and she was ready to embrace it. Theresa parked the car, and as they both stepped out, Sally felt an undeniable sense of excitement. The mall awaited, and so did the possibilities. Today, she was ready to try something new. -- Sally and Theresa strolled into the mall, the sound of footsteps and bustling shoppers filling the air. The bright lights from the stores reflected off the polished floors, and the scent of fresh pretzels and coffee lingered in the air. Theresa walked beside her, arms loosely by her side, glancing over at Sally, who was clearly excited but had a small undercurrent of nervousness brewing inside her. The mall was alive with energy, and although Sally had been looking forward to this trip to update her jogging gear, something dawned on her as they passed the first few stores. She would need to try on clothes today—jogging outfits, leggings, shorts… and maybe even swimsuits and bikinis. Her heart fluttered slightly, not in the same excited way she’d felt earlier. This time, it was because of her secret. She had chosen to wear a Ninjama, a decision that had made her feel calm and confident all afternoon, but now the realization hit her—how would she hide it in the dressing rooms? What if Theresa noticed something when they were shopping? Swimsuits and tight athletic gear weren’t exactly forgiving. Sally took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to formulate a strategy. She didn’t want to give up the confidence her Ninjama gave her, but she also didn’t want to be exposed. As they approached the first store, Sally smiled faintly, trying to remain calm on the outside. "Ready to dive in?" Theresa asked, glancing over at Sally with a bright smile. "Let’s see if we can find you some new jogging clothes first." Sally nodded. "Yeah, let’s do it," she said, her voice a bit more hesitant than before. They walked into the store, a mix of bright athletic gear displayed on mannequins and racks lined with leggings, running shorts, tank tops, and sports bras. Sally’s heart rate picked up a little as they moved toward the section with the shorts and tops. As she flipped through a rack of light, summery tank tops, she subtly glanced around, trying to think of how she could manage this shopping trip without revealing her secret. "How about these?" Theresa said, holding up a pair of light blue running shorts and a matching sports bra. "These look like they’d be great for the summer." Sally’s eyes widened. Tight-fitting shorts. "Uh, yeah, they look good," she replied, swallowing her nerves. She needed to figure something out—and fast. But she couldn’t back out now, not when they were already in the thick of it. They continued to browse through the racks, picking up a few more items—some loose-fitting jogging pants, leggings, and a couple of tank tops. As they gathered the clothes, Sally’s mind worked overtime. She needed to try these on, but she couldn’t let Theresa see her Ninjama. That would be way too embarrassing. "I’ll grab a few things too while you try yours on," Theresa said, casually picking out some items for herself. "We can meet up afterward." Sally nodded, relieved. This was her opening. She could have a little privacy to strategize without Theresa nearby. The dressing rooms were located at the back of the store, and as Sally approached them, she quickly slipped into one of the cubicles, locking the door behind her. She dropped the pile of clothes on the bench and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She glanced at the mirror, her reflection showing her casual outfit but hiding her secret beneath it. "Okay," she whispered to herself. "You’ve got this." First things first, she needed to try on the joggers and looser items that wouldn’t be a problem with the Ninjama. She quickly slipped out of her jeans and hoodie, standing in front of the mirror in just her Ninjama and tank top. The joggers were easy enough to pull on, and they fit well, not showing any sign of what she was hiding underneath. She smiled, feeling a bit more at ease as she tried on the loose tank top. This outfit was perfect. She could definitely run in this, and no one would notice anything. She pulled the outfit off and moved to the next—some leggings. These were a little trickier. The material was snug, and she could feel the waistband of the Ninjama pressing slightly underneath the fabric. She inspected herself carefully in the mirror, tugging the waistband of the leggings higher to ensure everything stayed hidden. So far, so good. But she had to be extra careful with the tighter items. Finally, she reached the dreaded tight running shorts and sports bra that Theresa had picked out. She stared at them for a moment, weighing her options. She knew she couldn’t try these on with the Ninjama without something being visible. Sally made a quick decision. She slipped off the Ninjama and folded it discreetly in her bag, just for a few minutes while she tried on the shorts. The sensation of not having it on was strange, but she had no choice. She pulled the tight shorts up and looked at herself in the mirror. No telltale signs of anything unusual—just a normal teenager trying on running gear. She sighed in relief. As she examined herself in the mirror, she had to admit the outfit looked pretty good on her. The bright blue shorts fit well, and the matching sports bra was supportive and stylish. She smiled a little, feeling a small rush of excitement as she twirled in front of the mirror. Once she was done, she quickly slipped out of the shorts and pulled her Ninjama back on before trying on the looser items again. The plan was working. She had managed to hide her secret without drawing any attention. After a few minutes, she gathered her chosen clothes and left the dressing room, meeting Theresa near the checkout. "Find anything you like?" Theresa asked, looking at Sally’s pile of clothes. "Yeah, these jogging clothes are great," Sally said, her confidence slowly returning. She glanced at the swimsuits nearby and hesitated for a moment before adding, "Actually… I was thinking about getting a swimsuit too. Maybe a bikini." Theresa grinned. "I was wondering when you’d say that! Let’s check them out." Sally followed Theresa to the swimsuit section, trying to suppress her nervousness. She picked up a couple of bikini tops and bottoms, glancing around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to her. The swimwear would be tricky to try on, but she had figured it out once; she could do it again. She grabbed the bikinis and headed back to the dressing room, once again repeating her strategy of slipping off the Ninjama temporarily to try on the bikinis. It took a bit of maneuvering, but she managed to find one she liked without drawing attention to herself. By the time they finished shopping, Sally felt a mix of relief and pride. She had pulled it off. Her Ninjama had given her the confidence to enjoy the day, and she had navigated the tricky dressing room situation like a pro. As they made their way to the checkout, Sally glanced over at Theresa, who was none the wiser. Once their purchases were made, they headed out of the store, and Sally’s stomach growled. "Food now?" Theresa asked, giving Sally a knowing look. Sally laughed. "Definitely. I think I earned it." As they walked toward the food court, Sally felt a sense of accomplishment. She had navigated her secret well, and the rest of the day was shaping up to be fun and carefree. With her new clothes in hand and a sense of calm back in place, she knew she could handle whatever the rest of the day threw her way. -- The drive home from the mall was filled with easy conversation and laughter. Sally and Theresa were riding high on the success of their shopping trip, and Sally felt lighter than she had in a long time. Bags filled with new jogging clothes and a bikini rested in the back seat, and they were recounting funny moments from the fitting rooms. "You really think I could pull off that neon bikini?" Sally asked, her face flushed with amusement. Theresa glanced over with a playful smile. "Absolutely! You looked amazing in it. I think you should've gone for it." Sally laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe next time. I just didn’t think I could handle that much attention. People would need sunglasses just to look at me." Theresa chuckled. "Hey, confidence is key, right? Besides, I think you’ve got more of that than you give yourself credit for." Sally grinned, the banter between them feeling natural and fun. She hadn’t felt this carefree in weeks. But the lightness of the moment was shattered in an instant. Suddenly, without warning, a tractor-trailer veered aggressively into their lane. Theresa reacted immediately, slamming on the brakes, the tires screeching as the car jolted violently. They narrowly avoided crashing into the barrier on the side of the road. Theresa's knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel, swerving skillfully to avoid the other cars. The entire incident happened in a flash. "Jesus," Theresa muttered under her breath, keeping her voice steady but her eyes sharp. "What an idiot." Theresa’s heart was still racing, but as she glanced over at Sally, her stomach dropped. Sally was sitting completely still, her face drained of color. Her eyes were wide, staring blankly ahead as if frozen in time. She wasn’t blinking—wasn’t moving—just frozen, almost catatonic. "Sally?" Theresa said softly, trying to keep her voice calm. "Sally, hey, are you okay?" No response. The cheerful, animated girl who had been laughing just moments before was gone, replaced by a shell of fear and shock. Sally’s hands gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles were bone-white. Her breath was shallow, almost nonexistent, as if she were holding it in. Her gaze was fixed, unseeing, and distant, as though she were somewhere else entirely. Theresa’s eyes flicked between the road and Sally, her concern growing. Flashback. She’d seen it before during her time in the Navy. Some people just froze after trauma, retreating deep within themselves, lost in a memory they couldn’t escape. Theresa pulled the car off to the side of the road as soon as it was safe, turning to face Sally fully. "Hey, Sally, it’s okay. You’re safe. It was just a close call, nothing happened." She kept her voice low, soothing, hoping to reach through the fog that had descended on Sally. Sally’s breathing remained shallow, her grip on the armrests unrelenting. "Sally, look at me," Theresa coaxed, gently placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder. "We’re fine. You’re safe. I’ve got you." For a few long moments, nothing changed. But then, slowly, a shuddering breath escaped Sally’s lips. Her fingers loosened their death grip on the armrests, and her eyes blinked—just once—before her gaze slowly, hesitantly, turned to Theresa. "I… I’m fine," Sally whispered, though her voice was shaky, and her face was still pale. She gave a small, forced smile, as if trying to convince herself of her own words. "Everything’s okay." Theresa didn’t push, but she could tell Sally wasn’t fine. Her posture was still rigid, and her hands trembled slightly as she brushed her hair behind her ear, trying to regain control. "Do you want to pull over for a bit?" Theresa asked, keeping her tone gentle, non-pressuring. Sally shook her head quickly. "No, I’m good. Let’s just… let’s just get home." Theresa frowned but nodded, knowing it was best to let Sally guide this moment. She pulled back onto the road, driving slowly and cautiously the rest of the way. The energy in the car had shifted drastically. The once-lively conversation was gone, replaced by tense silence. Sally didn’t say much, her face still white as a sheet, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She didn’t touch her phone, didn’t glance out the window, just sat there, her mind clearly elsewhere. Theresa glanced over periodically, watching Sally carefully. She was clearly still in shock, her body language stiff, her hands balled up in her lap. Theresa kept quiet, allowing Sally the space she needed, though her own heart ached to see the girl so visibly shaken. Chapter 39 - Ninja (Cont.) By the time they pulled into the driveway, Sally seemed more responsive, but her cheeks were still drained of color. Theresa parked the car and turned off the engine, taking a moment before speaking. "Sally," she said softly, turning to her again. "If you ever need to talk about what just happened, I’m here." Sally nodded quickly, but her voice still wavered. "I’m okay, really. I’m sorry for… for being like that. It was just a stupid moment." "You don’t need to apologize," Theresa said firmly but kindly. "We’ll go inside and take it easy. There’s nothing stupid about what you felt." As they stepped out of the car, Bridget appeared at the front door, her face filled with concern the moment she saw them. Theresa walked up to her quietly, pulling her aside for a moment to explain what had happened. "A truck cut us off," Theresa said in a low voice, glancing back at Sally, who was lingering near the car. "Sally froze up. She didn’t say anything for a while, just completely shut down. I got her through it, but I think she’s still a bit shaken." Bridget's face paled slightly, and she gave a quick, worried glance toward her daughter. "That sounds like what happened after the accident weeks ago. We were in a wreck with a tractor trailer... she’s been on edge ever since." Theresa nodded, everything starting to make sense now. "She’s still shaken up. Might be good to keep an eye on her tonight." Bridget sighed, visibly upset. "I’ll talk to her. Thanks for telling me." They walked toward Sally, who had managed to put on a brave face but was clearly still rattled. Her hands trembled slightly as she crossed her arms, her smile forced. "I’m sorry," Sally mumbled, her voice weak. "I didn’t mean to freak out like that." Bridget pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. "You don’t need to apologize for anything, sweetie. I’m just glad you’re okay." Sally leaned into the hug, nodding slowly. "I’m fine. It was just… a moment." Her voice wavered, but she was trying to hold it together. Bridget smiled, stroking her hair gently. "You’re a tough girl," Bridget said softly. "Take it easy tonight. We’ll talk more if you want, or we can just hang out and do something relaxing." Sally nodded, her face still pale but her voice regaining some steadiness. "Yeah… that sounds good." As they walked inside, Sally still felt a lingering sense of unease, but with her mother and Theresa there, she knew she wasn’t alone. It was going to take some time to shake off the shock, but for now, she was safe. And that was enough. -- Theresa slipped out quietly, leaving Bridget and Sally alone in the dimly lit living room. Sally was still curled up on the sofa, her hands gripping the blanket, her face pale and her eyes distant. Bridget approached her gently, crouching beside her daughter, carefully placing a hand on her arm. "Sweetheart," she whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Sally’s face. "Let’s get you comfortable, okay?" Sally blinked, her gaze slowly drifting to meet her mother’s, and nodded slightly. Bridget carefully guided her into a more comfortable position, laying her back on the sofa and covering her with the throw blanket. She left for just a moment to make chamomile tea, the familiar scent filling the air, and soon returned with a steaming mug. She placed it on the table, then settled at the edge of the sofa, lifting Sally’s foot into her lap. Sally was still trembling, her breath shaky, but Bridget’s touch was soft and reassuring. "You’re going to be okay, Sally. You’ve been so brave today. You’ve gone through a lot, but you’re still here, still strong." She rubbed Sally’s foot gently, offering both warmth and comfort. "You’re my beautiful, strong girl." Sally’s eyes softened, and she reached for the tea, her hands steadying as she wrapped her fingers around the mug. As she took a sip, Bridget continued, her voice a soothing murmur. "You don’t have to worry about anything right now," Bridget said, her tone soft and maternal. "You’re safe here, with me. I know today was hard. I know you felt scared, but that’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay to feel shaken. It’s normal after what you’ve been through." Sally lowered the mug slightly, staring at the steam rising from the tea. She could still feel the echo of fear in her chest, the memory of the truck flashing through her mind, but her mother’s words were like a balm, slowly calming the storm inside her. Bridget gently squeezed Sally’s foot, her eyes filled with warmth. "You’ve always been a strong girl, even when you don’t feel it. You’ve faced everything life’s thrown at you, and I couldn’t be prouder of how you handle things. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me." Sally blinked back the lingering tears, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I froze. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. It was like I wasn’t even there anymore." Bridget nodded, her expression soft and understanding. "That’s okay, love. That’s what happens sometimes when we’re scared or reminded of something bad. It’s called a flashback—it’s your mind trying to protect you, even though you’re safe now." Sally’s lips quivered, but she managed a small nod, her body slowly relaxing under her mother’s gentle care. "I hate feeling like that," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. "I know, sweetie. But it’s important to remember that you are safe now," Bridget said, her voice still calm and soothing. "When something like that happens, just remind yourself that it’s not happening again. You’re not back there in that moment. You’re right here, with me, safe." Sally nodded again, taking another sip of the tea, its warmth spreading through her. Bridget continued to rub her foot softly, her fingers brushing lightly over Sally’s skin. "Today was hard, but you got through it, and that’s what matters. You’re so strong, even when you don’t realize it. You’re growing up to be an incredible young woman, and I know you’ll keep finding ways to be even stronger." Sally felt a bit shy at her mother’s words, feeling a mix of gratitude and a little embarrassment over what had happened. "I’m sorry," she whispered again, though her voice was stronger now. "I didn’t mean to… freeze like that." Bridget shook her head gently, smiling softly. "You don’t need to apologize for that, sweetie. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re here, and we can talk about it. You don’t have to be embarrassed about how you felt. You’re allowed to feel scared. We all have moments like that." Sally managed a small smile, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the mug. "Thanks, Mom. I just… I didn’t want to freak out like that." "You didn’t freak out," Bridget reassured her, stroking her hair. "You had a reaction because you’ve been through something hard. And that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re okay now, and we’ll keep working through it together." There was a pause, the room falling quiet except for the gentle hum of the tea kettle in the background. Sally took another sip of her tea, feeling more grounded now, more in control. Bridget smiled softly at her daughter, her voice still soothing as she spoke. "You’re my beautiful, brave girl. You’ve come so far, and you’re only going to keep growing, keep getting stronger." Sally felt the warmth of her mother’s words, a small smile tugging at her lips. Then, as Bridget’s gaze softened even more, she added, "And you’ll always be my Pampered Princess." That brought a laugh from Sally, the first genuine one in a while. "More like a ninja," she said with a playful smirk, her confidence slowly returning. Bridget raised an eyebrow, amused. "A ninja?" Sally hesitated for a second before revealing her secret, lifting her shirt slightly to show the waistband of her Ninjama. "Yeah… I’m a ninja," she said, her cheeks flushing just a little. "And it’s dry," she added proudly. Bridget smiled fondly, stroking Sally’s hair. "Well, my little ninja, I’m proud of you," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "We’ll take care of everything later, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything tonight." Sally nodded, feeling lighter as the tension in the room finally began to lift. Her mother’s calm presence, the soft reassurance in her words, had helped her slowly find her footing again. She wasn’t completely back to normal, but she felt stronger—like she could handle things again. Bridget gently coaxed Sally to finish her tea, her voice still a soothing murmur. "You did really well today, love. And I’m so proud of how strong you are, even when you’re feeling unsure. You’ll get through anything." Sally blushed again, but the praise helped ease her lingering anxiety. Slowly, she finished her tea and set the mug down, feeling more centered. Bridget smiled, standing and holding out her hand. "Come on," she said softly. "Let’s get you to bed." -- Theresa guided the sleek silver Mercedes SUV through the morning traffic, the hum of the engine providing a quiet backdrop to the journey. She stole a glance at Sally, who sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window with a distant, thoughtful expression. After the scare from the day before, Theresa couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern for Sally, though the girl was doing her best to appear as calm and collected as ever. Theresa, however, wasn’t about to let it go without at least trying to get Sally to talk. As they cruised down the road, she shifted in her seat slightly, testing the waters. “So, how are you feeling after yesterday?” Theresa asked gently, her tone casual but clearly probing. Sally didn’t turn from the window. She just shrugged, her voice light but deflective. “I’m fine. Really.” Theresa raised an eyebrow, glancing at her again. Sally’s shoulders were relaxed, her expression neutral, but there was something in her body language that felt a little too controlled, a little too measured. “I mean, it was a close call,” Theresa continued, trying to keep her tone conversational. “Not something you can just brush off.” Sally shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “Yeah, I know. But it’s over, right? So, no point dwelling on it.” She paused, then quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, what about jogging? We got all the stuff yesterday, so when do we start?” Theresa sighed internally, knowing Sally was diverting, but she decided to let it slide for the moment. Pushing too hard would only make her retreat more, and if Sally wanted to talk about jogging instead, maybe that was her way of handling things. “We definitely did get some great gear,” Theresa said, playing along with the change in topic. “But you sure you’re ready to get into jogging right away? You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.” Sally finally turned her head to look at Theresa, her expression softening into a small smile. “Yeah, I’m ready. Jogging sounds like a great way to clear my head, you know? Just get out there and run. It’s what I need.” Theresa nodded, but her eyes flicked over to Sally’s hands, which were still nervously playing with her sleeve. “I get that,” she replied. “But we’ll start slow. Maybe two mornings a week, just to ease you into it. Sound good?” Sally grinned, a bit of her usual confidence creeping back. “Two mornings a week sounds perfect. I’m not trying to break any records.” Theresa smiled back, relieved to see that spark returning, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that everything was fine. Still, she’d take what she could get. “We’ll just have to check with your mom, make sure she’s okay with us starting that early in the morning,” Theresa said, keeping the tone light. “But I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. She’d probably be happy to see you out and about, doing something physical.” Sally nodded, her energy returning a bit more now. “Mom won’t mind. She knows I need something to focus on.” Theresa chuckled softly. “Alright, then. I’ll start planning our routes. Don’t blame me when I make you run up a hill or two.” Sally laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” There was a pause, and for a moment, things felt almost normal again. Sally leaned back in her seat, her fingers finally still, and Theresa glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. She seemed more relaxed now, but Theresa knew better than to think that one conversation about jogging would solve everything. Still, jogging could be good for Sally. It could give her a healthy outlet, something to focus on other than the weight of whatever was going on inside her head. Maybe it was exactly what she needed—a way to channel the pent-up energy, the anxiety, and the tension from the past few weeks. They drove in companionable silence for a few minutes, the soft hum of the Mercedes filling the gaps in conversation. Theresa decided to keep the tone light, not wanting to push Sally too far, too fast. “So, you thinking about jogging just for fitness, or are we training for something specific?” Theresa asked, glancing at Sally with a playful smile. Sally smirked, leaning into the banter. “I dunno, maybe I’ll run a marathon someday. But let’s start with not dying after the first mile.” Theresa laughed, relieved to see Sally joking. “Deal. I’ll be your personal trainer. No promises on going easy, though.” The school came into view, and Theresa slowed as they approached the drop-off area. She glanced over at Sally one last time before pulling up. “Just… take it easy today, okay?” Theresa said, her voice softening. “And remember, I’m here if you want to talk. About anything.” Sally nodded, her smile soft but still guarded. “Thanks, Theresa. I’m good. Really.” Theresa wasn’t entirely sure she believed her, but she let it go for now. Sally hopped out of the car, adjusting her backpack as she headed toward the entrance. Theresa watched her for a moment, a faint crease of worry settling on her brow. Sally was tough, but everyone had their limits. As she drove away, Theresa resolved to keep an eye on her. They’d start jogging, sure—but Theresa knew it was about more than just running. It was about building trust and making sure Sally knew she wasn’t alone, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise. -- Sally’s alarm buzzed softly at 5:30 a.m., cutting through the peaceful darkness of her room. Groggily, she reached over to silence it, blinking as she fought to wake up. She stretched lazily beneath the covers, feeling the familiar, heavy weight of her wet diaper between her legs. With a sigh, she pushed herself out of bed, knowing she had to get moving. She padded to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to jolt herself awake. As she stared at her reflection, she pulled off her t-shirt and ripped off the heavy diaper, which sagged and dropped with a thud to the floor. Grabbing a couple of baby wipes, she cleaned herself up quickly, tossing the wipes into the trash. The chill of the morning air hit her skin, but she brightened up as she thought about trying on her new jogging outfit for the first time. Sally headed back to her room, her grogginess replaced with growing excitement. She slipped on a pair of soft panties, followed by the loose jogging shorts she'd picked out with Theresa just the other day. Next came the matching sports bra, which she wiggled into before pulling on a pair of sport socks. Her running shoes sat by the foot of her bed, and she quickly tied them, feeling a sense of satisfaction with how everything came together. After checking to make sure her Apple Watch was strapped on, Sally jogged down the stairs, eager to meet Theresa, who was waiting for her outside by the car. As she stepped out the door, she saw Theresa leaning against the silver Mercedes, her arms folded, looking calm but alert. Sally glanced at her watch. One minute before six. She smiled, relieved she was on time. "Nice timing," Theresa said with a nod of approval. "And you look ready to go." "Thanks," Sally replied, feeling a bit more awake now. "I’m excited to start." Theresa smiled, pushing off from the car. "Good, but before we do anything, we need to stretch. You want to make sure you’re properly warmed up before we run, especially if you’re going to be doing this regularly. It’ll keep you from getting hurt later when things get more intense." Sally nodded, following Theresa’s lead as they stood in front of the car. Theresa guided her through a series of dynamic stretches, carefully explaining each movement. "First, let’s get those hamstrings stretched out," Theresa said, showing Sally how to bend at the waist and reach for her toes. "It’s important to stretch these muscles out—jogging puts a lot of pressure on them." Sally mimicked the stretch, feeling the pull in the back of her legs. Theresa watched her closely, offering gentle corrections to her form. "That’s it," Theresa encouraged. "Make sure you’re bending from your hips, not your back. You want to feel the stretch in your legs, not strain your back." Sally adjusted her posture, following Theresa’s instructions. They moved on to calf stretches next, with Sally pressing her hands against the car for support as she stretched each leg. "Good," Theresa said, nodding approvingly. "You’ll thank me for this later when your muscles aren’t screaming at you." Sally chuckled, appreciating Theresa’s attention to detail. "I hope so. I didn’t realize stretching was such a big deal." "It’s key," Theresa explained. "Especially when we start pushing a bit harder. If you stretch regularly, you’ll prevent injury and keep your muscles flexible. Plus, it’ll help you recover faster after each jog." They continued stretching, focusing on Sally’s quads, hips, and lower back, making sure each muscle group was warmed up properly. Theresa made a point to walk Sally through each stretch carefully, teaching her how to hold the positions without straining herself. "Don’t rush it," Theresa said softly as they did some lunges. "It’s not about how fast you can stretch—it’s about giving your muscles time to loosen up." By the time they finished stretching, Sally felt looser and more energized. She could already feel the difference in her body, as if it were waking up fully for the first time. "Alright," Theresa said, standing up straight. "Now that we’re warmed up, let’s get started. We’ll start with a light jog, then alternate between jogging and walking to ease into it." Sally nodded, feeling ready now. "Sounds good." They began jogging at a comfortable pace, with Theresa keeping an eye on Sally’s form, ensuring she wasn’t overstriding or slouching. The morning air was cool and crisp, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a soft light over the quiet street. Sally found herself settling into a rhythm, her feet hitting the pavement in time with her breath. It felt good to be moving, the fresh air filling her lungs and clearing her mind. She glanced over at Theresa, who jogged beside her with an easy grace, her eyes occasionally flicking to Sally to make sure she was doing okay. After a few minutes, Theresa slowed the pace, signaling for them to walk. Sally welcomed the brief break, catching her breath as they walked side by side. "You’re doing great," Theresa said, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just remember to breathe deeply. Keep a steady pace, and don’t overdo it." Sally nodded, her breathing evening out as they walked. "I’m actually feeling pretty good," she said, surprised at how comfortable she felt. "That’s the goal," Theresa replied. "The more you do it, the better you’ll feel. It’s all about finding a rhythm and getting your body used to it." They alternated between jogging and walking, with each interval stretching a little longer. Sally could feel her muscles working, her legs burning slightly, but it was the good kind of burn—the kind that told her she was pushing herself, but not too far. By the time they finished their final jog, Sally’s body felt warm and energized. Theresa led them back to the car, and before they climbed in, she guided Sally through a series of cool-down stretches. "You always want to cool down after a run," Theresa explained as they stretched out their calves and hamstrings again. "It helps prevent your muscles from tightening up and keeps your body loose." Sally followed along, appreciating the way her body felt looser after the stretches. It wasn’t until they finished that she realized how much better she felt compared to when they first started. "That was great," Sally said, standing up straight and feeling a sense of accomplishment. "You did really well for your first time," Theresa said with a smile. "We’ll gradually increase the intensity as we go, but you’ve got a solid start. You’ll be jogging miles before you know it." As they climbed back into the car, Sally felt proud of herself. The morning had started out slow and groggy, but now she was energized, ready to take on the day. She glanced at Theresa, who smiled warmly at her. "Thanks, Theresa," Sally said, her voice genuine. "I really needed this." "Anytime," Theresa replied, starting the car. "You’ve got this, Sally. One step at a time." They drove back to the house, the sun now fully up, casting a golden glow over the quiet street. Sally leaned back in her seat, a small smile on her face. She was looking forward to their next run, knowing she had someone there to guide her every step of the way. -- Sally felt energized and a little proud of herself for making it through their first jog. She glanced over at Theresa, who was barely even sweating, looking composed as ever. Meanwhile, Sally could feel her own shirt clinging to her slightly damp skin. Theresa smiled at her as she parked the car. "You did great today, Sally. Keep this up, and you’ll be running five miles without even thinking about it." Sally grinned back, still catching her breath. "Thanks, I feel pretty good. Except for maybe my legs—they’ll remind me tomorrow." Theresa chuckled, stepping out of the car. "That’s the sign of a good workout." As they walked toward the house, the smell of breakfast drifted through the air, and Sally’s stomach rumbled. Theresa, who had initially planned to leave after dropping Sally off, caught a whiff of the food and reconsidered. "Smells like we’ve got breakfast waiting. I’ll stick around for a bit if that’s alright, then I’ll take you to school." "Yeah, definitely!" Sally replied, though she was already thinking about the quick shower she’d need before sitting down at the table. As soon as they entered the house, Sally darted upstairs, eager to clean up. When she reached the bathroom, she stopped short, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she spotted the discarded diaper she had hastily dropped on the floor earlier. With a rueful shake of her head, she muttered, "I really need to do better with that." There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though. She stripped off her clothes and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the last remnants of sweat and tiredness. Within minutes, she was clean and refreshed, dressed in her school uniform, and hurrying downstairs, her hair still damp. As she approached the kitchen, she overheard Theresa and her mother, Bridget, chatting at the table. The smell of eggs, toast, and fresh coffee made her stomach grumble again, and she quickened her pace. She slipped into her seat just as her mother turned to greet her. "Morning, sweetie," Bridget said warmly, her eyes lingering on Sally’s jogging outfit, now folded neatly on a chair. "That’s a cute jogging outfit you picked out. I’ve got to say, I’m holding my breath until I see the credit card bill for yesterday’s mall trip." Her tone was light, but there was a touch of humor in her words, a habitual remark Bridget made about any shopping spree. Sally shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. She glanced toward Theresa, unsure of what to say. After a pause, she mumbled, "I can… I mean, I’ll pay you back. I have… well, I guess I have money now." Bridget’s expression changed instantly. Her easy smile faltered, and she narrowed her eyes slightly, looking both surprised and a little annoyed. Her brows knit together, and her lips pressed into a thin line. "Sally, I can very well pay for your clothes. There’s no need for you to talk like that." Sally fidgeted in her seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. She hadn’t meant to upset her mother, but she wasn’t sure how all the financial stuff worked now. Wasn’t she supposed to be responsible for some things now that she had access to funds? Theresa, ever observant, noticed the tension rising between the two. She cleared her throat gently and leaned forward, speaking in a calm, diplomatic tone. "If I may, Bridget," Theresa began, her voice careful and measured. "There is a credit card arriving soon specifically for Sally’s expenses. It’s part of the arrangement Adrian set up. There will actually be two cards—one for you, as her legal guardian," she said, pausing to acknowledge the technical term with an apologetic glance toward Bridget, "and one for Sally, since she’s the beneficiary." Bridget’s shoulders tensed slightly, her hands resting still on the table. She nodded, her expression shifting from annoyance to a more guarded understanding, though she still seemed uncomfortable with the idea. The room fell quiet for a moment, the only sound being the faint clinking of forks against plates. Sally, feeling the weight of the silence, shifted awkwardly in her seat. She glanced nervously between her mother and Theresa before blurting out, "So… what’s my allowance going to be?" The question hung in the air, and for a second, Bridget’s expression tightened again. But before anything could escalate, Theresa smiled warmly, her eyes meeting Sally’s with a hint of humor. "Well, Sally," she said, leaning back slightly in her chair, "if you start spending more than you should, you’ll get two phone calls. One from Trump Tower and another from Switzerland. Only for your own good, of course." Theresa’s playful yet firm tone helped to ease the tension in the room. Bridget couldn’t help but crack a small smile, though she was still clearly working through the complexities of this new financial situation. Sally let out a small laugh, the tension in her shoulders finally loosening a bit. Theresa glanced at Bridget with a knowing look, understanding the emotions at play here. She added, "Of course, Bridget, you’ll have full access to monitor all of Sally’s spending. This is just a tool for her to learn how to manage things responsibly. It’s a lot for both of you to take in, I know, but it’s something we can handle together." Bridget nodded, her face softening as she absorbed Theresa’s words. The tightness around her eyes eased, and she gave a small sigh, leaning back in her chair. "Alright, I suppose that makes sense. I just… don’t want her worrying about money like that." Sally made a face, feeling a little awkward but grateful for the way Theresa had managed the situation. She gave a small shrug, glancing at her mother. "I’m not worrying, Mom. I just… I don’t really understand how it works, that’s all." Bridget’s expression softened further as she reached across the table to gently touch Sally’s hand. "I know, honey. It’s just new, that’s all. You’ll learn how to manage it in time." Theresa, sensing the conversation had reached a comfortable conclusion, took a moment to finish her breakfast. She smiled as she set her fork down and gently nudged Sally’s plate toward her. "Come on, eat up, or your eggs are going to get cold." Sally picked up her fork, realizing that in all the tension, she’d barely touched her food. She glanced at Theresa, who gave her an encouraging nod. Bridget, too, smiled softly, the tension now gone. As the clock ticked closer to school time, Theresa checked her watch, finishing the last of her coffee. "Alright, kiddo," she said with a grin. "Let’s get you to school before you’re late." Sally, feeling more grounded now, nodded, pushing back from the table. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Theresa." Theresa stood and grabbed her keys, but not before exchanging a quick, knowing glance with Bridget. Bridget gave her a subtle nod of thanks, understanding the unspoken support Theresa had provided. Sally grabbed her backpack and followed Theresa to the door, the morning’s conversation still swirling in her mind. As they stepped outside, Sally couldn’t help but feel a little more grown-up—and a little more prepared for whatever was to come. Chapter 40 - Cranky As Sally climbed into the passenger seat of the silver Mercedes, she buckled her seatbelt, stealing a glance at Theresa in the driver’s seat. The morning sun bathed everything in a soft glow, and the car felt warm and comfortable, though Sally could still feel the weight of the conversation from breakfast lingering in the back of her mind. Theresa, always perceptive, sensed the quiet tension, but she started the car with a relaxed smile. "So," Theresa began casually, glancing over as they pulled away from the house, "You survived the credit card talk. Not bad." Sally gave a small smile, staring out of the window as they drove down the quiet street. "Yeah, I guess I did. Mom wasn’t thrilled though," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of guilt and confusion. Theresa glanced at her, her eyes softening with understanding. "She’ll come around. It’s a big change for her too, you know. But it’s normal for her to feel protective, especially since, well, this whole financial thing is kind of new for you." Sally nodded, still feeling a bit unsure. "It’s just… weird. I don’t even really know what to do with all this. I mean, I have no idea how to handle money like that. I don’t want to mess up." Theresa chuckled softly, keeping her eyes on the road but clearly invested in the conversation. "You won’t mess up. You’re smart, Sally. But here’s the thing—money doesn’t come with a handbook, and no one expects you to know everything right away. That’s what growing up is all about." Sally shifted in her seat, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her backpack. "I guess, but it just feels like a lot of responsibility all at once. Like, how do I even know what I’m supposed to spend it on?" Theresa smiled, sensing the opportunity to offer some "big sister" advice rather than come across like an assistant. "Okay, first things first—you don’t have to figure it all out in one day. You’re not suddenly in charge of everything, and it’s okay to take your time. But think of it like this: your allowance is like your personal budget. You get to decide how to spend it, but you want to be smart about it." Sally turned to look at her, curious but still a little uncertain. "What do you mean by 'smart about it'?" Theresa shrugged lightly, as if it was no big deal, even though she knew it could be intimidating. "Well, let’s start simple. You’ve got things you need—like clothes, maybe school supplies, things like that. Then you’ve got things you want—like going out with friends or buying something fun for yourself. The trick is figuring out how to balance the two." Sally leaned back in her seat, listening intently as they cruised along the road. "So, you’re saying I need to, like, plan it out?" "Exactly," Theresa nodded. "Think about it this way: if you blow all your allowance on one thing the second you get it, you won’t have anything left when something else comes up. It’s all about pacing yourself." Sally considered this, biting her lip. "That makes sense. I guess I just feel weird about having that much freedom with money." Theresa grinned, giving her a sideways glance. "Freedom’s great, but it comes with responsibility. Think of it as a way to start learning now, so when you’re older and dealing with bigger things, you’ll already know how to handle it." The car fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the road stretching out in front of them as the trees swayed gently in the morning breeze. Sally’s brow furrowed slightly, still processing everything, and after a beat, she asked, "What if I spend too much and… you know, screw it all up?" Theresa laughed softly, shaking her head. "That’s where your mom and I come in, remember? We’re here to help. And trust me, if you start getting out of hand, you’ll hear from both Switzerland and Trump Tower. But it won’t get to that point." Sally let out a small laugh, finally relaxing a bit. "I guess that would be pretty bad." "It wouldn’t be the end of the world," Theresa reassured her, her voice light. "But you’re not going to screw anything up. You’re more responsible than you give yourself credit for. And hey, I’ll keep an eye out too. Not like a bodyguard, though," she added with a playful wink. Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Yeah, no more 'bodyguard' jokes. I get enough of that from Katrina and Clara." Theresa laughed again, her warmth filling the car. "Fair enough. But seriously, you’re not alone in this. If you need help figuring out how to handle your money, just ask. You don’t have to do it all by yourself." Sally looked at her, feeling a sense of relief settle in. Theresa’s easygoing attitude made the whole situation seem a little less daunting. "Thanks, Tess. I think I just need to get used to the idea." "Exactly," Theresa replied, glancing over with a smile. "And we’ll take it step by step. You’ve got time to figure this out, and you’re smart enough to handle it. Just remember, it’s your money to spend—but it’s also your future to think about." Sally nodded, her mind a little clearer now. "Yeah, I guess it’s not so bad if I think of it like that." Theresa smiled, satisfied that Sally was starting to grasp the concept without feeling overwhelmed. She shifted gears smoothly as they approached the school entrance. "You’ve got this, kiddo. Just remember, it’s all about balance. Have fun, but don’t blow everything on the first thing that catches your eye. And if you ever feel unsure, you know who to ask." Sally felt lighter, more at ease as they pulled up to the drop-off area. "Thanks, Tess," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I’ll keep that in mind." Theresa winked at her. "Anytime. Now go show them how it’s done, girl." Sally laughed, stepping out of the car and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. As she waved goodbye and headed toward the school doors, she felt more confident. She wasn’t entirely sure how everything would play out, but with Theresa’s support—and maybe a little patience from her mom—she figured she’d be okay. And maybe, just maybe, managing her new responsibilities wouldn’t be as overwhelming as she’d thought. -- Sally stepped through the front door of her house, dropping her backpack by the stairs. The day at school had been long, but not unbearable, and she was glad to finally be home. As she ascended the stairs, her thoughts were already on changing into something more comfortable and relaxing for the evening. When she reached her room, she tossed her jacket onto the chair and went to the bathroom to freshen up. But as she stepped through the doorway, she froze. Dolores, the housekeeper who had worked for the family for years, was standing in the bathroom, staring down at the discarded diaper Sally had hastily left on the floor that morning. Sally’s heart sank into her stomach. Her face flushed a deep red as she realized what Dolores had seen. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The embarrassment was paralyzing. Dolores looked up, her face not angry but stern, her eyebrows raised as she regarded Sally. “Señorita Sally,” Dolores said in her soft, accented voice, shaking her head. "You left this on the floor, mija." She gestured to the diaper. "You can’t do that. It’s not right." Sally’s cheeks burned even hotter, and she stammered, feeling a wave of mortification. "I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was in a hurry this morning, and I forgot." Dolores, still holding the diaper, gave her a knowing look, but there was no judgment in her eyes, just the usual care and understanding that Sally had come to know from her. "Hurrying or not, you need to be careful, querida. It’s not good to leave things like this lying around." Sally's mind was racing. She wanted to explain herself, but how could she without making everything even more embarrassing? Dolores, who had known her since she was small, was always so kind, but Sally felt her whole world tilt at the thought of being called out for something so personal. “I... I have to wear them sometimes,” Sally admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s because… I wet the bed.” Dolores softened immediately, her stern expression fading into one of compassion. She placed the diaper in the small trash bin and wiped her hands. "Ay, mija," she said, stepping toward Sally, her voice gentle now. "No te preocupes. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay?" Sally bit her lip, still mortified. "I’m sorry, Dolores. I didn’t mean to leave it like that. I should’ve been more careful." Dolores smiled, her warm, familiar presence making the tension in the room disappear. "Es normal, Sally. You don’t need to explain. Lots of people have things they deal with. But, next time, just remember—put it in the trash. No pasa nada." The Spanish words, spoken in Dolores’s soft tone, calmed Sally. There was something so comforting in the way Dolores spoke, blending English and Spanish so naturally, the way she always did when she wanted to soothe or reassure. Sally finally let out a breath, her embarrassment subsiding, though she still felt a little sheepish. "Thanks, Dolores," she said, her voice small. "I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again." Dolores waved her hand, dismissing any further apologies. "It’s nothing, niña. Just part of growing up, right? And look at you, handling everything so well." Sally managed a small smile, though she still felt the heat in her cheeks. Dolores’s gentle, motherly demeanor was a blessing in moments like these, but Sally still couldn’t shake the embarrassment completely. "Gracias, Dolores," Sally said quietly, feeling a little more at ease now. Dolores gave her a wink, picking up the towel she'd been folding. "De nada, Sally. Just don’t leave me any more surprises on the floor, okay?" she said with a teasing smile, her tone playful. Sally laughed softly, feeling the tension leave her shoulders. "I won’t. I promise." Dolores nodded approvingly, then added with a gentle pat on Sally’s arm, "Good girl." As Dolores left the room to continue her work, Sally stood for a moment, processing the interaction. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Dolores hadn’t asked for any explanations or made her feel weird about it. In fact, she had handled the situation with the same care she always had, throwing in a few words of Spanish that made everything feel just a little lighter. Sally sighed, relieved, and began changing into more comfortable clothes. As she pulled on her loose t-shirt and shorts, she couldn't help but smile to herself, grateful for Dolores’s kindness. But still, she made a mental note: never leave a dirty diaper on the floor again. -- Sally stood at the top of the stairs, leaning against the bannister as she listened to the familiar murmur of voices from below. Her mother, Bridget, had just arrived home, and Dolores was giving her the usual report on the day’s work. Sally loved how her mom treated Dolores, not as just someone who worked for them but as a part of the family. She smiled softly as she watched them, remembering how her mother would always offer Dolores a cup of tea and sit with her for a moment to catch up. But then the conversation took a sudden turn. "Señora Bridget," Dolores said, her voice calm but with that familiar undertone of seriousness, "I had to speak to Sally today. She left a… un pañal sucio, a dirty diaper on the bathroom floor this morning." Sally’s heart stopped. Mortified, she pressed her back against the bannister, hoping they wouldn’t look up and see her listening. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. She thought she’d taken care of it—she hadn’t expected Dolores to tell her mother about it. Even though she knew Dolores hadn’t meant any harm, the fact that it had been brought up made her want to sink into the floor and disappear. Bridget, on the other hand, took it in stride. Sally could hear her mother’s calm, measured response. "Oh, Dolores, I’m sure that won’t happen again. Thank you for telling me." Sally peeked down through the bannister, bracing herself for her mother’s reaction. But Bridget didn’t seem upset, just a little concerned. Dolores continued, her tone soft and understanding. "No, no, I understand. I told her it’s no problem, but she must be careful. Hygiene is important. I know about these things, Señora Bridget. Micaela, my granddaughter, she wears pull-ups too. She’s eight now, but still needs them at night. So, I understand." Sally’s embarrassment faded just slightly. Dolores hadn’t said it to shame her—she was genuinely concerned about hygiene and cleanliness. She even sympathized, sharing her own personal experience with Micaela. But still, Sally couldn’t help but feel mortified that her little secret had become a point of conversation. From below, Sally watched as Dolores fumbled with her English, trying to explain. Bridget smiled warmly, placing a hand on Dolores’s arm. "I’m sure you handled it just fine. Thank you for taking care of everything, as always. And don’t worry—Sally will be more mindful." Sally’s heart skipped when her mother called her name. "Sally? Are you up there, sweetheart?" Sally bit her lip, taking a deep breath before she leaned over the bannister. "Yeah, Mom." Bridget’s eyes softened as she looked up at her daughter. "Come on down, honey. And bring a diaper with you, please." Sally froze for a second, her face turning red again at the mention of the diaper. But she couldn’t refuse. She nodded, quickly heading to her room and grabbing a fresh diaper from the drawer. Her stomach fluttered with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. What was her mother going to say? As she walked downstairs, holding the diaper discreetly in her hand, she noticed Dolores gathering her things to leave. Dolores caught Sally’s eye, and her usual warm smile spread across her face. There was no malice or judgment—just the same gentle kindness Sally had always known. Dolores stepped toward her, giving Sally a light pat on the arm. "Don’t worry, mija. It’s all normal, okay? Just be more careful next time. Cleanliness is important, sí?" Sally managed a small smile. "Yeah, I will. Thanks, Dolores." With that, Dolores gave her a nod, exchanging goodbyes with Bridget before leaving the house. Once the door clicked shut, Sally turned to her mother, still feeling nervous. Bridget’s gaze was soft, understanding, but she was waiting for an explanation. Sally sighed, fiddling with the diaper in her hand. "I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to leave it like that this morning. I was just in a rush, and I forgot." Bridget nodded, crossing her arms but still smiling. "I know, sweetheart. I understand. But Dolores is right—hygiene is important. We just need to make sure everything is cleaned up properly. You can’t be leaving dirty diapers on the floor." Sally winced slightly, feeling the sting of her mother’s words, even though Bridget wasn’t scolding her harshly. It was more the embarrassment than anything else. "I know," she muttered, glancing down. "It won’t happen again." Bridget stepped closer, placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder. "I know it won’t. And Dolores isn’t upset—she’s just making sure everything is okay. She even told me about Micaela." Sally looked up, surprised. "Micaela?" Bridget nodded. "Yes, her granddaughter. She needs pull-ups too, so Dolores understands better than you might think. There’s no shame in it, honey. We just need to be mindful." Sally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "I guess so. It’s just… embarrassing." Bridget smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair from Sally’s face. "I know it is. But there’s no need to feel embarrassed here, okay? You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of." Sally nodded, feeling some of the weight lift off her chest. Her mother always had a way of making things better, of turning awkward moments into ones that felt… okay. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious about the whole ordeal. Bridget gave her a reassuring smile. "Now, why don’t we get that diaper on you and settle in for the evening? I’ll put on some tea, and we’ll have a nice, quiet night together." Sally felt the tension in her body ease, and she managed a small, grateful smile. "Yeah, that sounds good." She handed her mother the diaper and allowed herself to relax, knowing that no matter what, her mom would always be there to make things better. -- Sally stood in front of her mother, still holding the diaper in her hand, her fingers nervously twisting the edges. Bridget gently took it from her with a soft, reassuring smile. There was a moment of quiet between them, and while Sally could feel the embarrassment still lingering in the air, the warmth of her mother’s presence eased the tension slightly. Bridget placed the diaper on the table and turned back to her daughter, her expression calm but serious. “Sweetheart,” she began, her voice firm yet understanding, “we need to talk about how things are going. You know hygiene is really important, especially when it comes to wearing diapers.” Sally nodded quickly, already feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I’ll be more careful, I promise. I won’t leave them on the floor again.” Bridget smiled, though her eyes held a seriousness that told Sally this conversation wasn’t just about a one-time mistake. “I believe you, Sally. I know you didn’t mean to be careless. But I think we need to focus on helping you get more comfortable with the responsibility. So, for the next week, while you’re at home, you’ll be wearing diapers all the time.” Sally’s heart sank, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Full-time? But, Mom, I thought I was just supposed to wear them at night!” Bridget’s expression softened, but her resolve remained. “I know you’re used to only wearing them at night, but this is important, honey. Learning how to manage your hygiene properly is a big part of this. I want you to get used to taking care of everything—the cleaning, the changing—so that when you need it, you’ll feel more confident.” Sally felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. “But... what about when I go out? I mean, I have school, and other things to do,” she mumbled, trying to process the sudden change. Her mother nodded, clearly having anticipated the concern. “Outside the house, you’ll be free to wear pull-ups. You can choose when and where, and it’ll be much more discreet. This is just for when you’re home, where you’re comfortable, and we can focus on making sure everything is handled properly.” Sally shifted her weight, the thought of being in diapers at home feeling overwhelming. She understood the logic—her mother was right about needing to learn proper care—but the idea of being in them full-time, even just at home, made her feel anxious. Bridget took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on Sally’s arm. “I know this feels like a lot right now, but it’s only for a week. It’ll help you get used to things at your own pace, and I’ll be here every step of the way. You’re growing up, and this is part of learning responsibility.” Sally bit her lip, feeling the weight of her mother’s words. It wasn’t that she hated wearing diapers—there was something about them that felt secure and comforting—but the thought of being in them so much made her nervous. Sensing her daughter’s hesitation, Bridget added with a small smile, “And remember, outside the house, it’s up to you. You can wear pull-ups when you’re out, but at home, this is about getting comfortable and making sure you know how to take care of things properly. No pressure, just practice.” Sally sighed, her mind spinning. She glanced at the diaper on the table, conflicted. Part of her wanted to protest, but another part understood the logic. Her mother was being fair—this wasn’t a punishment, it was about helping her learn. Bridget squeezed her daughter’s hand lightly. “You’re a smart girl, Sally. I know you can handle this. We’ll get through the week together, okay? And if you need help, I’m right here.” After a moment of silence, Sally finally nodded. “Okay, Mom. I’ll do it.” Bridget’s face lit up with a warm smile, and she pulled Sally into a gentle hug. “That’s my girl. I’m proud of you for taking this seriously. Now, let’s get you changed for the evening, and then we can have some tea together. How does that sound?” Sally let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, feeling both nervous and relieved at the same time. The week ahead felt daunting, but she trusted her mother’s judgment. She would figure this out, just like she had everything else. As Bridget began to prepare the diaper, Sally lay back on the bed, her thoughts racing. The routine was familiar by now—the rustling of the diaper, the cool touch of baby wipes, and the soft pat of powder on her skin. It was almost comforting in its predictability, the care her mother took with each step making her feel safe. The diaper’s thickness cradled her as Bridget fastened the tapes securely, making sure everything was snug. Sally felt the padding between her legs and the familiar bulk, and while it was strange to think she’d be in diapers full-time at home, there was also a quiet sense of acceptance growing within her. She could handle this. It was just one week, after all. Bridget finished securing the diaper and helped her daughter sit up, giving her a soft pat on the back. “There we go. All set.” Sally smiled faintly, still adjusting to the new situation, but grateful for her mother’s support. “Thanks, Mom.” They headed downstairs together, the quiet crinkle of the diaper barely noticeable over the warmth of their bond. Sally couldn’t help but think about the week ahead—how she would manage this, how it would feel. It wasn’t just about the diapers. It was about taking responsibility, growing up, and learning to handle things on her own terms. -- After that long week of wearing diapers at home, Sally thought she would be relieved to return to her normal routine—no more padding under her clothes, no more worrying about managing her hygiene in a special way. She was supposed to be happy, free from the responsibility and the secrecy of it all. But instead of feeling a sense of relief, she found herself irritable and cranky. At school, she snapped at little things that wouldn’t usually bother her. Katrina’s harmless teasing, Clara’s quiet suggestions, even the usual rhythm of her classes seemed to grate on her nerves. By the time she got home one afternoon after a particularly frustrating day, she was in no mood to deal with anyone. Sally dropped her backpack by the door and stomped up to her room. Her mom wasn’t home from work yet, and the house felt too quiet. Usually, she would find comfort in that silence, but today it just made her feel more unsettled. She sat at her desk, attempting to focus on her homework, but the words on the page blurred, and her mind wandered. Her frustration mounted, bubbling beneath the surface. Bridget arrived home a little while later, calling out a gentle greeting as she set her things down. "Sally, honey? I’m home! How was school?" Sally didn’t bother looking up from her homework. "Fine," she muttered, her voice sharp, her mood still sour. A moment later, Bridget’s voice called up the stairs again. "Can you come down and help me with something?" "I’m busy!" Sally snapped, louder than she meant to. She instantly felt a twinge of guilt but didn’t bother softening her tone. There was a brief pause, and then her mother’s voice, calm but firm, called back, "Sally, come down here and bring a diaper with you." Sally froze in her chair, her heart skipping a beat. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had heard right. A diaper? Her pulse quickened, and an unexpected rush of excitement coursed through her. She hadn't worn one since the week had ended, and though she hadn’t realized it until this moment, a part of her missed it—the comfort, the warmth, the familiarity. The simple command from her mother sent a thrill through her. Without thinking, she stood up and walked over to the drawer where her diapers were kept. Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled one out, the soft crinkle filling the quiet room. She held the diaper in her hands for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions—anticipation, excitement, and a hint of shame for wanting something she thought she was supposed to leave behind. With the diaper in hand, Sally made her way downstairs, her heart pounding in her chest. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw her mother standing in the kitchen, setting the table for dinner. Bridget looked up and gave her daughter a knowing smile, her expression soft and understanding. "Come here, sweetheart," Bridget said, her voice gentle but commanding. "Let’s get you back into this, shall we?" Sally didn’t protest. She didn’t even speak. She simply walked over, handing her mother the diaper. Bridget took it from her, guiding her toward the living room where the couch offered a comfortable space. Sally lay down as Bridget unfolded the diaper with practiced ease. As Bridget began to diaper her daughter, Sally felt her earlier frustration melting away. The familiar sensation of the soft padding against her skin was both comforting and thrilling. Her mother worked with tenderness, the routine they had established during the past week coming back to both of them effortlessly. Bridget said nothing at first, simply securing the diaper with gentle hands, but once she was done, she sat beside Sally on the couch and looked at her daughter with a raised eyebrow. "You’ve been cranky lately," Bridget remarked, her tone more curious than accusing. Sally, still lying there, sighed and nodded. "I know. I’m sorry, Mom. I just… I don’t know why. Everything’s been bothering me." Bridget smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Sally’s forehead. "I think I know why." Sally looked up at her mother, a little confused but waiting for her to explain. "You miss the diapers, don’t you?" Bridget said softly, her words more a statement than a question. Sally felt her face flush, but she didn’t deny it. She hadn’t realized it consciously until this moment, but now that her mother had said it out loud, it felt true. She nodded slightly, biting her lip. "It’s okay," Bridget continued, her voice full of warmth. "You found comfort in them, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I could see it in you. You were more relaxed, more at ease. And now that we’ve taken them away, it’s no wonder you’ve been feeling a little off." Sally blinked, feeling a mixture of relief and confusion. "But I’m supposed to be done with them, right? I mean, I don’t need them anymore." Bridget shrugged lightly, stroking her daughter’s arm. "Maybe you don’t need them in the traditional sense, but if they help you feel better, there’s no harm in wearing them at home. We’ll figure it out together, Sally. I want you to feel comfortable and happy." Sally felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by her mother’s understanding. She hadn’t expected this level of acceptance, but here it was—her mother reassuring her that it was okay to feel the way she did. "Thanks, Mom," Sally whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t realize I missed them so much." Bridget smiled, giving Sally’s arm a gentle squeeze. "I know. And that’s okay. We’ll take things at your pace. Now, why don’t you come help me finish setting the table, and we’ll have dinner?" Sally sat up, the diaper crinkling softly as she moved. She felt lighter, more at ease. As she followed her mother into the kitchen, she realized that the excitement she had felt wasn’t just about the diaper—it was about the comfort and security it gave her, and the fact that her mother understood that. For the first time in days, Sally felt her mood lift, a soft smile forming on her lips. Maybe this was something she wasn’t quite ready to give up after all. And for now, that was perfectly okay. Chapter 41 - Crinkle Sally stood in her room the next morning, staring at her school uniform laid out neatly on her bed. She sighed, rubbing her temples as she mentally prepared for the day ahead. The previous evening, after the emotional conversation with her mother and the familiar comfort of her diaper, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. But now, faced with the practicalities of going back to school, she was stuck. Her mother had suggested she wear a pull-up to school, but Sally couldn’t shake the memory of how cumbersome it had always been. Changing a pull-up in the school bathroom was a laborious process. Tights off, pull-up off, then the reverse to get dressed again. It was awkward, time-consuming, and there was always the fear of someone noticing her absence for too long in the stall. But last night had given her an idea. Instead of a pull-up, she could wear a diaper under her uniform. It would be easier to change since she wouldn’t need to take her tights off completely. The only downside? The bulk. Could she pull it off without anyone noticing? Sally stood in front of her closet and pulled out a diaper, hesitating for a moment before unfolding it. She slipped off her pajamas and stepped into the diaper, pulling it snugly around her waist before securing the tapes. The thickness between her legs was noticeable, but not unbearable. She wiggled a little, testing how it felt as she moved. Next came her tights. She carefully slipped them on over the diaper, smoothing them down over her legs and adjusting the waistband of her skirt so that it sat properly. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, turning from side to side. The diaper was bulkier than the pull-up, but under the pleated skirt, it didn’t seem obvious. At least, she hoped it wasn’t. She decided to test it on her mother. Sally made her way downstairs, the slight crinkle of her diaper barely audible as she moved. Bridget was busy in the kitchen, making breakfast. Sally felt a surge of nerves but forced herself to stay calm. She sat down at the table, trying to act as normal as possible. “Morning, Mom,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast. Bridget glanced over, smiling. “Morning, sweetheart. You look ready for the day.” Sally nodded, her heart pounding a little. Her mother didn’t seem to notice anything different about her, even as she stood up and moved around the kitchen. Maybe the diaper wasn’t as obvious as she had feared. "Theresa’s driving you to school, right?" Bridget asked. “Yeah,” Sally replied, grabbing her bag. “I’ll see you after school.” She walked out the door, her heart racing. She had passed the first test—her mother hadn’t noticed. Now came the real challenge. Theresa was waiting by the car as usual, leaning against the hood with her sunglasses on. "Morning, champ," she greeted, opening the passenger door for Sally. "Ready for another day of school?" Sally smiled, though her nerves were still buzzing. "Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be." As they drove to school, Sally shifted in her seat, hyper-aware of the diaper underneath her uniform. The bulk pressed against her slightly, but Theresa didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They chatted casually about Sally’s classes and her plans for the weekend, but in the back of her mind, Sally was rehearsing how she would handle the day ahead. The drive passed quickly, and soon enough, they pulled up to the school. Sally stepped out of the car, her bag slung over her shoulder, and waved goodbye to Theresa. She felt the familiar crinkle as she walked toward the entrance, but no one seemed to be paying attention. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, hoping that the sound wasn’t as loud to others as it was to her. At school, Sally met up with Katrina and Clara by their lockers. As usual, Katrina was full of energy, bouncing around and throwing jokes at both of them. Sally tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind kept drifting to the diaper. She felt the thickness between her legs with every step, and the thought of someone noticing made her heart race. “Earth to Sally!” Katrina waved a hand in front of her face, laughing. “You zoning out on us already?” Sally blinked and smiled, shaking her head. “Sorry, just thinking about something.” Katrina raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Must be something juicy. Spill it.” Sally laughed nervously, quickly changing the subject. “Nah, nothing like that. Just… school stuff.” They made their way to their first class, and as Sally sat down at her desk, she felt the slight pressure in her bladder start to build. She had been so focused on getting through the morning that she hadn’t thought about needing to pee. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on the teacher’s voice as the lesson began, but the pressure only increased. It was then that she made a decision. She relaxed slightly in her seat, letting the pressure go. Warmth spread through the diaper, the familiar feeling making her relax even more. She was careful not to let it flood all at once, knowing that the diaper had its limits. The wetness spread evenly, and she felt a sense of calm wash over her. No one noticed. Not the teacher, not Katrina or Clara, not anyone. Sally sat there, her heart racing, but also feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. She had wet herself in class, and no one had any idea. By lunchtime, Sally knew she needed to change. The diaper was starting to feel heavy, and she didn’t want to risk a leak. She excused herself from her friends and made her way to the bathroom. The school lavatory was empty, which was a relief. Sally quickly slipped into a stall and locked the door behind her. Changing a diaper in a public bathroom wasn’t something she had done before, but she had thought it through. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a fresh diaper, along with a few wipes. As she carefully peeled off the wet diaper, she cringed at the soft crinkle it made. She worked quickly, wiping herself clean and balling up the used diaper before slipping into the fresh one. The sound of the tapes echoed in the stall, making her nervous that someone might hear. But the bathroom remained empty, and after a few more seconds, she was securely diapered again. Sally adjusted her tights and skirt, making sure everything was in place before stepping out of the stall. She tossed the used diaper into the trash and washed her hands, her heart pounding in her chest. She repeated this process again after her last class of the day. By then, she was more confident, though still anxious about someone hearing or noticing. Each time, she moved quickly, making as little noise as possible and trying to blend into the background. By the time the day was over, Sally had successfully navigated her first full day in a diaper at school. As she walked out of the building and saw Theresa waiting by the car, she couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of pride and relief. She had done it. No one had noticed, and she had managed to keep everything under control. As she climbed into the car, Theresa gave her a quick glance. "How was your day?" Sally smiled, feeling more confident than she had that morning. "It was good. Really good." -- Sally sat in the passenger seat of the silver Mercedes, staring out the window as Theresa drove them home. Her mind was spinning, not just with the excitement of getting her first credit card, but also with the increasingly uncomfortable sensation of her wet diaper pressing against her. She had made it through the day, managing to keep her secret hidden beneath her school uniform, but now the wetness was beginning to feel overwhelming. Theresa broke the silence, glancing over at Sally. “Oh, by the way,” she began, as she checked a notification on her phone, “good news: the credit cards arrived today. Your mom and I were planning to go over everything when we get back—allowances, PINs, and how to use Apple Pay. Everything’s ready.” Sally’s mind snapped back to the present. “Really?” she asked, trying to sound excited. The news was thrilling, but as she shifted in her seat, the squish of her soaked diaper reminded her of her pressing discomfort. She felt her face warm slightly, but Theresa didn’t notice. “Yeah, everything’s set,” Theresa said. “We’ll make sure you know how everything works, but it’s pretty straightforward. You’ll be able to manage your expenses easily.” Sally nodded, trying to keep her cool. She had been hoping to make it through this conversation without drawing any attention to her situation. She could feel the diaper sitting heavily between her legs, the tights she wore over it adding to the snug feeling. She shifted again, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. They pulled into the driveway, and Sally quickly grabbed her bag, hoping to slip upstairs and change before the meeting. But when they walked through the front door, Bridget was already at the kitchen table, the credit card envelopes and a small stack of papers spread out neatly. "Come sit down, Sally," Bridget called warmly. "Theresa and I are going to go over everything with you now." Sally hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she could make it through the meeting without drawing attention to her wet diaper. The idea of sitting through a conversation about credit cards and finances while wearing a soaked diaper was daunting, but she didn’t want to make a fuss. She sat down at the table, feeling the wet padding press uncomfortably against her as she squirmed slightly in her seat. The tights made it feel even more constricted, but she hoped she could manage for a little while longer. Theresa sat across from Sally, handing her one of the credit card envelopes. “This is your card,” she explained. “It’s linked to your allowance, and we’ll set it up in your Apple Pay so you can use it with your phone if you want. You’ll just need to set up a PIN, and it’s good to go.” Sally nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of the envelope. The excitement of holding her own credit card was starting to settle in, but the increasingly uncomfortable wetness was making it hard to concentrate. She shifted again, trying to keep her movements subtle, but the squishing sound of the soaked diaper beneath her tights made her cringe internally. Bridget smiled, watching Sally closely. “You’ll have full access to your monthly allowance, and I’ll have a card to keep track of everything too, just to make sure everything is managed properly.” Theresa added, “It’s all straightforward, but don’t worry—we’ll help you figure it out as you go.” Sally nodded again, but she couldn’t help fidgeting in her seat. The weight of the wet diaper was becoming unbearable, and she shifted awkwardly, hoping they wouldn’t notice how squirmy she was. After going over the basics of the cards, PINs, and spending, Theresa finally stood up to leave, satisfied that everything was explained. “Alright, I think we’re good for now. You know how to reach me if you have any questions. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Sally smiled weakly as Theresa left, the door clicking shut behind her. The moment the door was closed, Bridget turned to Sally, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern. "Sally, you’ve been fidgeting all evening," Bridget said, leaning forward a little. "What’s going on?" Sally froze, her heart racing. She had hoped to get through the conversation without having to explain, but now there was no way to avoid it. She shifted in her seat one last time before taking a deep breath. “I… I’m wearing a diaper,” she finally confessed, her voice small. Bridget blinked, clearly surprised. “You’re wearing a diaper?” she repeated, her tone soft but curious. Sally nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah. I didn’t want to wear a pull-up today, so I put on a diaper instead. But now it’s really wet, and I didn’t have a chance to change it.” Bridget’s expression softened immediately, her surprise turning into understanding. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Stand up, let’s take a look.” Sally stood up reluctantly, feeling her heart pound as her mother came closer. Bridget reached for the hem of her skirt and lifted it, revealing Sally’s tights underneath. The bulge of the wet diaper was visible, pressing against the thin material of the tights. Bridget sighed softly. “Alright, let’s get you sorted out.” She reached down and slowly began to peel Sally’s tights down to her knees, exposing the soaked diaper beneath. The diaper was completely saturated, the wetness indicator a deep blue stripe across the front. Bridget examined it briefly before shaking her head with a small smile. “You must have been uncomfortable, honey. I’m surprised you made it through that whole meeting like this.” Sally bit her lip, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admitted. Bridget gave her a warm smile, cupping Sally’s cheek gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you into something dry, and next time, just let me know, okay?” Sally nodded, feeling her heart calm as her mother guided her toward the living room. Bridget carefully unfastened the tapes of the wet diaper, pulling it away with practiced ease. She wiped Sally clean with a few baby wipes before grabbing a fresh diaper from the nearby stack. “This time, we’re going to add a little extra,” Bridget said softly, reaching for a booster pad. “Just to make sure you’re more comfortable for the rest of the evening.” Sally watched as her mother placed the booster pad inside the diaper, the extra padding making it thicker than usual. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be too bulky, but then nodded, trusting her mother’s judgment. Bridget smiled as she pulled the fresh diaper up between Sally’s legs, securing it snugly with the tapes. The thickness of the diaper was noticeable, especially with the added booster, but Sally already felt more comfortable as the dry padding settled against her skin. Sally stood still as her mother finished taping up the diaper, the added bulk of the booster already making her feel a bit off-balance. The padding felt thicker than usual, but after a week of wearing diapers at home, the sensation wasn’t entirely unfamiliar—just different. “All done,” Bridget said softly, giving her a gentle pat. “Now, go get comfortable. I’ll call you down for dinner soon.” Sally gave her mom a small smile and turned, her diaper crinkling softly as she skipped up the stairs. The noise was familiar by now, but the bulkiness of the booster pad reminded her of its presence with every step. The feeling of security mixed with the awkward thickness made her both self-conscious and oddly reassured. Once she reached her room, she quickly shut the door behind her. The first thing she did was strip off her school uniform. Her tights came down first, followed by her skirt and blouse, leaving her in her bra and diaper. The heavy padding between her legs made her shift awkwardly as she moved, the thick diaper amplifying each sensation. She glanced at herself in the mirror, noting the noticeable bulk of the diaper and the way it pressed against her. Her bra felt tight, uncomfortable, and out of place given the diaper she was wearing. She unclasped it and tossed it onto her bed, immediately feeling more relaxed. The absence of the bra gave her a sense of freedom, letting her fully relax and settle into her evening routine. She reached for her favorite t-shirt—a soft, worn one that hung loosely around her waist. Pulling it over her head, she adjusted it until it sat comfortably just above the top of her diaper. The t-shirt was just long enough to cover the waistband of the diaper, giving her a sense of casual comfort as she looked at herself in the mirror again. Now, free of the restrictions of her uniform and feeling more at ease, Sally walked around her room, getting ready for the evening. Each crinkle of the diaper reminded her of its presence, but now that she was dressed more comfortably, the thickness didn’t bother her as much. It was just part of her evening—a routine she was slowly accepting, though the extra padding still made her feel a bit more vulnerable. -- Sally wandered down the hallway, her bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floors as she made her way to her studio. The familiar crinkling of her diaper accompanied each step, but she barely noticed it now, so accustomed had she become to the sound and the sensation. After slipping into her t-shirt and settling into the comfort of being out of her school uniform, the feeling of the diaper, while bulky from the booster, was just part of her day at home. She pushed open the door to her studio, a small room with soft natural light filtering through the window. It was a space she cherished, a place where she could let her creativity flow without distractions. Paints and brushes were scattered across the table, a few unfinished canvases leaning against the far wall. But it was the large, unfinished painting in the center of the room that caught her attention. It had been sitting there for days, untouched. She stepped closer, her eyes tracing the vibrant blues and greens she had started with, though now they seemed dull and incomplete. Sally tilted her head slightly, squinting as if the new angle would reveal how to finish it. The image on the canvas was abstract—large, sweeping strokes of color, but it felt like something was missing. She had been stuck on it for a while, unable to figure out what more to add. Standing there in the stillness, her mind began to drift. Ideas fluttered in and out of her head: maybe some yellows, or perhaps some intricate linework with finer brushes to contrast the broad strokes. She thought about experimenting with textures, maybe adding a layer of thick paint or trying a new technique with her brushes. As she stood in thought, she felt a familiar warmth spreading through her diaper. Without even realizing it, she had begun to pee, the sensation of warmth and wetness spreading throughout the thick padding. Sally shifted slightly, her body relaxing into the feeling, her focus on the painting never wavering. The diaper absorbed everything quickly, and the weight of it grew a bit heavier, but it didn’t bother her. If anything, it brought a sense of comfort, grounding her as she continued to think about her artwork. Maybe it was time to buy new paints, she mused, eyeing the dried-up tubes scattered across the table. She could experiment with a fresh palette, something bold to bring new life to her painting. And brushes—she needed new brushes. The old ones were frayed from overuse, and she’d been thinking about trying some different techniques anyway. A trip to the art store would be fun, especially now that she had the new credit card. The idea of being able to buy her own supplies without needing to ask her mom for money gave her a small thrill. Just as she was lost in the thought of what brushes she might want to try, her mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking through her reverie. “Sally! Dinner’s ready!” She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and glancing one last time at the painting. It would have to wait until later. She could always sketch out some new ideas after dinner. Sally made her way down to the dining room, the warm smell of food greeting her as she walked in. Bridget was setting the table, her usual gentle smile on her face as she placed the last plate down. “There you are,” Bridget said, looking up at Sally. “I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about dinner.” Sally chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I was just in the studio, thinking about my painting. I might need to get some new paints and brushes.” Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about using that new credit card already, huh?” Sally smiled sheepishly as she took a seat at the table. The thought of having the freedom to buy her own art supplies was exciting, but there was still a lot to understand about how to manage it all. “Yeah,” Sally admitted. “It’s weird. I’m excited, but I’m also kind of nervous about spending too much. How does this... all work, exactly?” Bridget sat down across from her, taking a moment before answering. “Well, it’s all about managing your allowance and making sure you’re not overspending. We’ll be keeping an eye on things, of course, but it’s good practice for when you’ll be handling everything on your own someday.” Sally nodded slowly, her fork hovering over her plate. “So... I can buy things like paints or clothes or whatever, but you’ll see everything I spend, right?” Bridget nodded. “Exactly. It’s more about learning how to budget and be responsible with your money. You have a monthly allowance, and that’s what you’ll use for personal expenses. If you need something bigger, like school supplies or something for a project, we’ll talk about it.” Sally chewed thoughtfully, thinking about how different it would be to manage her own expenses. “But what happens if I... I don’t know, go over the limit or spend too much?” Bridget smiled warmly, setting her fork down. “If you spend too much, you’ll get a call from either me or your dad. It’s part of learning to be responsible. But don’t worry—we’ll help you figure it out.” Sally nodded again, feeling a little more confident but still unsure. “What about things like... bigger stuff? Like, say I wanted to save up for something expensive?” Bridget chuckled softly. “Well, that’s what budgeting is for. You can save part of your allowance each month and put it toward something bigger. It’s a good habit to get into. And remember, if you ever need advice on how to manage it, Theresa and I are here to help.” Sally looked down at her plate, the reality of having her own credit card sinking in. It was exciting, but it also felt like a lot of responsibility. She could imagine herself buying new paints and art supplies, but the idea of keeping track of it all felt overwhelming. Bridget must have sensed her uncertainty because she leaned in a little closer, her voice gentle. “You’re going to do great, Sally. This is all part of growing up, and I know it feels like a lot right now, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll get the hang of it.” Sally smiled, feeling reassured by her mother’s words. “Thanks, Mom. I guess it’ll just take some getting used to.” Bridget nodded. “Exactly. And don’t forget, you’ll also have a card on Apple Pay. So you don’t have to carry the physical card around unless you want to.” Sally grinned. “That’s kind of cool.” “It is,” Bridget agreed. “But remember, it’s not about spending just because you can. It’s about being smart with it.” As they continued eating, Sally couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease. The idea of having her own card still felt strange, but with her mother’s guidance, she knew she wouldn’t be alone in figuring it all out. As the meal wound down, Bridget leaned back in her chair, a smile playing on her lips. “You know, I never had anything like this when I was your age. It’s a different world now.” Sally laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s kind of scary, but also... exciting. I just hope I don’t mess it up.” Bridget reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You won’t. And if you ever feel unsure, just come to me. We’ll work through it together.” Sally smiled, feeling the warmth of her mother’s support wash over her. The conversation about finances was a bit daunting, but with her mom’s help, she was starting to feel more confident in managing her own expenses. The thought of buying her own art supplies with her card was thrilling, and she couldn’t wait to start planning her next project. As dinner wrapped up, Sally cleared her plate and stood to help her mom with the dishes. The crinkle of her diaper was a quiet reminder of the day’s events, but for now, she was content. She had a lot to think about, but with her new responsibilities and the comfort of her routine, she felt ready to take on whatever came next. Chapter 42 - Masterpiece As Sally helped clear the table after dinner, Bridget caught a slight shift in her daughter’s posture, the subtle way she fidgeted as she moved. It was nothing overt, but after a week of managing Sally’s diaper routine, Bridget had developed a mother’s keen sense for these things. She knew. Sally’s diaper was wet. Bridget glanced at her daughter’s lower half as Sally moved to the sink. The booster pad they had added earlier meant the diaper could hold more than usual, and from what she could see, there was no urgency. Sally would be fine for a while longer. Instead of saying anything, Bridget let it slide, deciding to allow Sally her comfort. After all, tonight was supposed to be a relaxing one. "Why don’t we watch some ‘Gilmore Girls’?" Bridget suggested, drying her hands after washing the dishes. "I’m in the mood for a few episodes before bed." Sally perked up at the suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds good," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The familiar comfort of their mother-daughter TV nights was exactly what she needed after the emotional rollercoaster of the day. They moved to the living room, where the soft glow of the television already cast a warm, inviting light across the space. Sally flopped onto the couch, feeling the familiar crinkle of her diaper as she settled in. She stretched out her legs and grabbed one of the plush blankets from the back of the sofa, draping it over herself. Bridget sat beside her, remote in hand, ready to start their binge. As the opening music of "Gilmore Girls" filled the room, Sally let herself relax completely. The show had always been a favorite of theirs, a comforting escape into the witty banter between Lorelai and Rory. It was a world where everything was cozy, funny, and full of love—just what Sally needed to unwind. The soft, familiar voices of the characters drifted over her as the episode unfolded, and slowly, Sally began to feel her body relax even further. The tension from earlier, the nerves about the credit cards, and the embarrassment about her diaper, all seemed to melt away. She was home, safe, and with her mom. As the minutes passed, Sally could feel the slow but steady warmth spreading through her diaper again. She had been holding back, but now, with the show playing and the calm, comfortable atmosphere of the living room surrounding her, she let go completely. The warmth spread, and the weight of her diaper grew a little heavier, but the booster pad absorbed it easily. It was a strange, conflicting sensation. The thick diaper was heavy and wet, but also reassuring. There was no rush to deal with it—she didn’t have to worry. She could just sit there with her mom, watch TV, and relax. No one would know, and she didn’t have to move or make excuses to change. For now, everything was fine. Bridget glanced over at Sally halfway through the episode. She noticed how calm her daughter seemed, sinking deeper into the cushions. The gentle rise and fall of Sally’s breathing indicated how at ease she was, and Bridget felt a small sense of pride that they had found a routine that worked. The booster was doing its job, and Sally looked content. "I love this show," Sally mumbled, her eyes half-closed as she watched Rory navigate yet another quirky situation. Bridget smiled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "Me too, honey. It never gets old, does it?" Sally shook her head lazily, the blanket pulled up to her chin. She felt the weight of her diaper pressing against her, and though it was soaked, she found the sensation more comforting than anything. The extra padding from the booster made it feel fuller, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—not yet. She could wait a little while longer. As the episode continued, they exchanged the occasional comment or laugh about the show’s witty lines, but mostly, they were content to sit in companionable silence. Bridget leaned back, her eyes flicking to Sally now and then, always aware of her daughter’s comfort, but knowing there was no need to rush anything. The wet diaper could be dealt with later, when the time felt right. For now, they were both enjoying the peaceful evening. As the credits of the second episode rolled, Sally let out a long, contented sigh. She felt heavy and warm, wrapped in the blanket and secure in her wet diaper, but it was the feeling of being home, of being safe, that made her smile. Bridget clicked off the TV and turned to her daughter. "Alright, sleepyhead. I think that’s enough for tonight. How are you doing?" Sally stretched and gave a sleepy smile. "I’m good," she said softly, though she could feel the increasing weight of her diaper as she shifted. Bridget gave her a knowing look, her voice soft. "Want to go get changed before bed?" Sally hesitated for a moment but then nodded, feeling another small rush of warmth between her legs. She knew she was pretty soaked by now, but she didn’t mind. "Yeah, probably a good idea," she admitted with a shy grin. Bridget stood and extended a hand to help her up from the couch. "Come on, then. Let’s get you ready for bed, my pampered princess." The familiar nickname made Sally’s heart warm. She giggled as she took her mother’s hand, standing up and feeling the bulk of her soaked diaper shift slightly as she did. Together, they made their way upstairs, the evening wrapping up with the same warmth and comfort it had started with. -- Sally wandered through the brightly lit mall, her arms full of bags of art supplies and new clothes. The day had been a whirlwind of shopping, and Sally couldn’t help but feel a thrill each time she tapped her Apple Watch to make a purchase. Tess, walking beside her with a few bags of her own, had been pleasantly surprised by how much Sally knew about art—something she hadn’t expected when they first set out that morning. As they entered yet another art supply store, Sally immediately gravitated toward the aisles of brushes and paints, her eyes lighting up. Tess followed, watching as Sally expertly sifted through the rows of supplies, pulling out items with the kind of care only an experienced artist could have. "So, what’s the deal with all these different brushes?" Tess asked, genuinely curious. "I didn’t realize there were so many types." Sally grinned, happy to be in her element. “It’s all about the materials. See, this one here—this brush has soft bristles, perfect for blending oil paints. But this one," she said, pulling out a slightly stiffer brush, "is better for acrylics. You need something that can handle the thicker texture and faster drying time.” Tess nodded, impressed by the level of detail in Sally’s explanation. "Wow, you really know your stuff." Sally beamed, proud to share her knowledge. “Yeah, I’ve been experimenting with different techniques for a while. It’s fun to figure out what works best for each project.” After gathering the supplies she needed, they headed to the checkout. Instead of fumbling for her credit card, Sally simply raised her wrist and tapped her Apple Watch against the payment terminal. A soft beep confirmed the transaction, and Sally smiled, satisfied with the ease of the process. Tess watched, amused. “Apple Pay, huh? You’re really embracing the new tech.” Sally shrugged with a smile. “It’s way easier than carrying a wallet. Plus, it’s kinda fun.” With the art supplies in hand, they left the store and made their way to a clothing boutique. Sally immediately began rifling through the racks of summer clothes, picking out a few lightweight shorts and oversized t-shirts. “I mostly just wear t-shirts to sleep in,” Sally said as she sifted through a rack of sleepwear. “Pajamas are great, but I only really wear them when it’s cold. I like keeping things simple.” Tess chuckled at this, nodding. “Makes sense. Who needs all that extra stuff when a t-shirt works just as well?” Sally laughed as she added a couple more items to her growing pile of clothes. After selecting a few more summer pieces, they headed to the register. Once again, Sally simply tapped her Apple Watch to pay, the transaction going through in seconds. As they exited the store, Tess glanced at the bags Sally was carrying. “You’ve spent quite a bit today,” she remarked, her tone light and casual. There was no criticism in her voice—just an observation. Sally shrugged, a playful grin on her face. “Yeah, but I needed all this stuff, right? Art supplies, clothes—what’s not to love?” Tess smiled at her, amused by Sally’s nonchalant attitude. “It’s definitely useful. But yeah, you did manage to rack up quite a bill today.” Sally smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe I should go even crazier—spend even more, just to see if I can get a phone call from my dad.” The joke was light, but Tess couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something deeper behind Sally’s words. The idea that the only way Sally could get her father’s attention was by spending money didn’t sit right with her. Tess kept her expression neutral, but she made a mental note to address this with Adrian later. “Maybe,” Tess said with a chuckle, trying to keep things light. “But I think your dad would appreciate hearing from you even without a crazy spending spree.” Sally laughed, but Tess could tell that the thought of her father was still weighing on her. It wasn’t the first time Sally had hinted at the distant relationship she had with him, and Tess silently vowed to bring it up the next time she spoke with Adrian. It wasn’t fair for Sally to feel like the only way she could get attention was through her spending. As they sat down for a quick snack in the food court, Sally seemed to brighten again, excitedly talking about the new art supplies she had bought. Tess smiled and listened, genuinely impressed with Sally’s knowledge and enthusiasm. “You really are talented,” Tess said, watching as Sally animatedly described her next art project. “It’s cool to see how passionate you are about this.” Sally blushed slightly at the compliment but smiled. “Thanks, Tess. I just love trying new things and seeing what I can create.” They finished their food, and as they left the mall, Tess couldn’t help but feel more protective over Sally. She had spent a lot of money today, sure, but the way she had joked about overspending just to get her father’s attention stuck with Tess. Sally deserved more than that—she deserved attention for who she was, not just what she spent. Tess resolved to speak with Adrian and make sure he understood that his daughter needed more than financial support. “Ready to head home?” Tess asked, checking her phone. “Yeah,” Sally said with a grin. “Mom’s probably going to freak out when she sees all the stuff I bought.” Tess laughed. “She might. But hey, you did well today.” As they headed toward the exit, Sally tapped her Apple Watch again, paying for their parking with the same ease she’d had all day. Tess smiled as she watched Sally, thinking of how confident and independent she was becoming, and hoping that Adrian would see it too. As they made their way home, Tess mentally planned her next steps, knowing that she needed to have a conversation with Adrian about more than just finances. Sally needed his attention in a real, meaningful way, and Tess was determined to make sure she got it. -- Sally let out a contented sigh, shifting in her seat as she gathered her bags. The day had been exhausting but exhilarating—she had bought everything she needed, from art supplies to summer clothes. The thrill of using her Apple Watch to pay for her purchases had given her a sense of independence, and she was ready to relax. Tess parked smoothly and turned to Sally with a smile. “You did some serious damage today, Sally,” Tess teased lightly, her eyes flicking to the bags in the back seat. “Your mom’s going to be surprised when she sees how much art stuff you brought home.” Sally grinned, shrugging. “I think she’ll be more surprised at the bill.” Tess chuckled. “Well, you’ve got the supplies for your masterpiece, so it’s all worth it.” They stepped out of the car, and as Sally reached for her bags, Bridget appeared at the front door. She raised an eyebrow playfully, eyeing the bags Sally was holding. “Goodness, Sally. Did you buy the whole store?” Bridget asked, smiling but obviously curious about the haul. Sally groaned in mock exasperation. “I needed art supplies and clothes, Mom. It’s for a good cause.” Bridget exchanged a knowing look with Tess and winked. “Oh, I’m sure it is. What, are you planning to create your own art gallery with all this?” “Hey, if I do, you’ll be the first one invited to the opening,” Sally shot back, laughing as she and Tess followed her mother inside. Once they were in the house, Tess helped Sally carry her bags to the kitchen, where Bridget was already inspecting a few of the items. Tess leaned against the counter, watching the playful back-and-forth between mother and daughter. “I see the summer wardrobe's sorted, too,” Bridget said, pulling out one of the new t-shirts Sally had bought. Sally shrugged. “It’s getting warm. Gotta be prepared.” Tess, smirking, added, “Well, let’s just say she’s definitely prepared. New art supplies, new clothes… you’ll have to keep an eye on that credit card, Bridget.” Bridget chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll manage. But she’s spending like a real pro now.” “Only because I have an allowance,” Sally said, winking as she started to gather her art supplies. “And I needed these for my next project.” Bridget, still amused, came over to Sally and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, but before you go upstairs, let’s get you into something more comfortable.” -- As soon as Tess left, the house quieted down, settling into its familiar, cozy stillness. Sally carried her bags upstairs, feeling the exhaustion from a long day of shopping mixed with the lingering excitement of buying new art supplies and clothes. The thrill of using her Apple Watch to pay for everything still buzzed in her mind, but now, all she wanted was to unwind. She was still dressed in her simple black skirt and a loose t-shirt, her bright orange panties hidden underneath. As she stepped into her room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sighed softly. The day had been great, but now, she craved the comfort of her diaper. Before she could change, her mother appeared at the doorway, smiling warmly. "How about we get you into something more comfortable before you head to your studio?" Bridget suggested, a familiar, knowing tone in her voice. Sally glanced down at her skirt and t-shirt, then back at her mom. “Yeah, that sounds good,” she said with a soft smile. Without hesitation, Bridget walked over and guided Sally to sit on the edge of the bed. Sally lifted her hips, allowing Bridget to slide the black skirt down her legs and set it aside. Her bright orange panties followed shortly after, leaving Sally exposed and feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The cool air brushing against her skin gave her a slight shiver, but that faded as soon as her mother began the familiar diapering process. Sally lay back, staring at the ceiling, her mind already drifting to the unfinished painting waiting for her in the studio. As she lay there, she listened to the quiet, efficient sounds of her mother preparing the diaper—the soft rustle of plastic, the powder being gently shaken onto her skin, and the crinkle of the diaper as it was unfolded. The process was mechanical, yet always soothing. It was something that calmed her after a long day. Bridget’s hands worked swiftly but carefully, wiping her daughter down with baby wipes before sliding the fresh diaper under her hips. Sally could feel the thickness of the padding as Bridget pulled it snug around her waist, securing it in place with practiced ease. The added booster pad made it feel heavier than usual, but the bulk brought with it a sense of security that Sally had grown to rely on. “There we go,” Bridget said softly, smoothing the front of the diaper and giving Sally a reassuring smile. “All set. Go on and finish your painting.” Sally sat up, the familiar crinkle of her diaper accompanying the motion, and smiled at her mom. “Thanks, Mom.” With a quick nod, Bridget left Sally to her own devices, and Sally headed straight for her studio. The studio welcomed her like an old friend, filled with the familiar scent of paint and creativity. She set her shopping bags aside, her attention immediately drawn to the unfinished canvas waiting for her. The black background, streaked with grey, stared back at her, a reminder of the darker emotions she’d been working through when she first started the piece. But now, after the experiences of the day and the quiet comfort of her fresh diaper, Sally felt ready to bring light and optimism into the painting. The bright yellow paint she had bought earlier felt perfect—a color full of life and promise. She squeezed the yellow paint onto her palette, mixing it with a hint of white to soften its vibrancy. With her brush dipped in the color, she stood in front of the canvas, her heart pounding slightly in anticipation. The first stroke of yellow felt like a release, a sharp contrast against the dark greys and blacks that dominated the painting. It brought warmth, a brightness that cut through the gloom. Sally paused, stepping back to admire the contrast. The yellow felt bold, almost daring, but it was what the painting needed. She smiled to herself, feeling more confident as she added more strokes of yellow, letting the color flow across the canvas. Her body relaxed further, sinking into the familiar rhythm of painting. The diaper, thick and snug, crinkled softly with each movement, but it didn’t distract her. Instead, it added to the comfort, grounding her as she worked. She felt herself becoming more absorbed in the process, each brushstroke bringing more life to the canvas. The grey and black tones, which had once seemed heavy and overwhelming, were now softened by the yellows and blues she layered on top. As the painting came to life before her, Sally’s thoughts drifted, her focus entirely on the colors blending together. The sensation of warmth spreading through her diaper barely registered at first, the soft wetness adding to the calming sense of security. She didn’t stop working—she didn’t want to. The weight of the diaper, now slightly heavier, only grounded her further as she continued to bring her vision to life. The strokes of blue and green mixed with the yellow, creating a sense of flow and movement across the canvas. It was as though the painting itself was evolving, transforming into something full of hope and light. The darkness was still there, but it no longer dominated. Now, the colors danced over the black base, creating a sense of renewal, a transition from shadow into light. Sally lost track of time as she worked, the world around her fading into the background. The crinkling of her diaper was a comforting constant, the wetness adding to the warmth she felt inside as the painting neared completion. It was as though the act of painting, paired with the security of her diaper, allowed her to let go of all her worries and simply create. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t hear the studio door creak open behind her. Bridget stood in the doorway, watching quietly as her daughter painted. Bridget had come to call her for dinner, but seeing how immersed Sally was in her work, she hesitated. The painting was beautiful. Full of life and movement, it was a stark contrast to the dark, conflicted emotions that had once dominated the canvas. Bridget could see the optimism shining through, the sense of hope that had finally taken root in Sally’s work. She smiled softly to herself, proud of her daughter’s progress, both in her art and in her emotional journey. Not wanting to interrupt, Bridget stepped back, deciding to let Sally finish. Dinner could wait. It wasn’t until much later, when Sally finally stepped back from the canvas, that she realized how much time had passed. She blinked, her muscles aching slightly from standing in the same position for so long. But the painting—it was done. She stared at it, her heart swelling with pride. The dark beginnings of the piece had been transformed into something vibrant, full of light and color. The yellows, blues, and greens seemed to dance across the surface, creating a sense of movement and hope. It was a reflection of her own journey—from uncertainty and doubt to a place of optimism. The weight of her now very wet diaper reminded her just how long she’d been working. The warmth had long since spread, and though the diaper was heavy, it had kept her grounded and focused throughout the process. She smiled to herself, feeling a mix of satisfaction and relief. As she made her way downstairs, the sound of the microwave reheating dinner greeted her. Bridget turned from the counter, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Hours, Sally. You’ve been at it for hours,” Bridget said, setting down the reheated plates. “Dinner’s been ready for a while, but I didn’t want to stop you.” Sally blushed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, I just... I couldn’t stop once I got going.” Bridget smiled warmly. “No need to apologize. You finished the painting, right?” Sally nodded, her eyes bright with pride. “Yeah. I think it’s my best one yet.” “I can’t wait to see it,” Bridget said as they sat down to eat. “But first—do you need a change?” Sally hesitated for a moment, feeling the heavy diaper shift slightly as she sat down. “Yeah, I’m pretty wet.” Bridget chuckled. “Finish dinner first. We’ll take care of it after.” Dinner passed in companionable conversation, Sally recounting some of her ideas for future art projects. When they were done, Bridget led Sally back upstairs for a much-needed diaper change. The routine was familiar, comforting in its simplicity. Sally lay back on the bed as Bridget untaped the soaked diaper, working with gentle hands to clean her up and powder her. The new diaper felt warm and fresh as it was taped securely in place, and Sally felt a wave of relaxation wash over her. “All set,” Bridget said, helping her daughter stand. “Now, let’s go check out that masterpiece of yours.” Sally grinned, the weight of the new diaper barely registering as they headed back to the studio. She felt lighter, both physically and emotionally, and as they stood together in front of the finished painting, she knew that this was more than just another piece of art. It was a reflection of her journey, a symbol of her growth. And though she didn’t know it yet, it would become one of her most prized creations. Chapter 43 - Code 41 The meeting had been going smoothly, with Theresa and Adrian discussing logistics, updates on the estate, and plans for upcoming events. Adrian had been his usual, efficient self, asking questions and giving concise instructions. The rapport between them had grown comfortable over the months they had worked together, with Adrian trusting Theresa’s insights and judgment. As the meeting neared its end, Theresa felt a familiar nervousness tug at her. There was something personal she had been wanting to bring up, something she felt mattered more than all the numbers and logistics they had just discussed. She hesitated briefly, then decided now was the time. “Mr. Weiss, if I may... there’s one more thing I’d like to bring up,” she said carefully, softening her tone. Adrian paused and looked at her through the screen, sitting in his Zurich office, his attention shifting from the business reports they’d been reviewing. “Of course, Theresa. What is it?” Theresa gathered her thoughts before speaking. “It’s about Sally,” she began, knowing this conversation needed to be handled delicately. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her over the last few weeks, driving her to school, spending time with her during errands... She’s a remarkable young woman, very smart and driven. But... there’s something I think you should know.” Adrian’s eyes softened slightly, his posture becoming less rigid. He trusted Theresa, especially when it came to Sally. “Go on.” Theresa took a deep breath, deciding to be direct but gentle. “Sally is incredibly independent, and she’s handling the new situation with the credit card and the allowance quite well. She’s careful, doesn’t overspend, and seems to appreciate the responsibility. But something she said the other day caught my attention.” She paused, watching Adrian’s reaction. His face remained neutral, but his eyes flickered with curiosity. “She joked,” Theresa continued, “about needing to overspend on her credit card just to get your attention. She said it almost as an offhand remark, like a joke... but I could tell there was more to it than that. It wasn’t just a casual comment. It made me think she feels like she has to do something drastic to get noticed.” Adrian’s face grew more serious, his brow furrowing slightly. He remained quiet, processing what Theresa had said. Theresa, sensing the weight of her words, leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet concerned. “She’s trying to navigate this new world of wealth and expectations, but I think deep down, what she really wants is more of a personal connection with you. She’s proud of what you’ve provided for her, but... she needs you, not just in a financial sense. She’s craving your attention and presence, and I think she might not know how to express that.” Adrian stayed silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he thought. The words struck him more deeply than Theresa had anticipated, though she could see him processing every bit of it. He had always provided for Sally—more than provided, he had ensured she would never have to worry about financial matters. But hearing this, it became clear that money wasn’t what Sally needed most. “What exactly did she say?” Adrian asked, his voice softer than before, a bit more personal. Theresa offered a small smile, recalling the moment. “We were at the mall, and Sally had bought some art supplies and clothes. She was careful with her spending, but after paying for everything, she looked at me and said, ‘Maybe I should go even crazier with the spending, just to see if it’ll get my dad’s attention.’” Theresa let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “She said it with a smile, like a joke. But there was a hint of something else in her eyes... like she was testing the idea, seeing how I’d react.” Adrian leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest. The silence between them grew heavy as he processed this. His gaze shifted downward, and Theresa could tell he was thinking hard about what she’d said. “I don’t think she wants to spend money to get your attention,” Theresa added softly. “I think she just wants more of you. She’s a strong girl, Mr. Weiss, but she’s also still a teenager trying to figure out how to relate to all of this... the money, the expectations, the relationship with you.” Adrian exhaled slowly, his face thoughtful, his brow still furrowed. “I’ve always made sure she’s taken care of, financially,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But maybe I’ve missed... the other part.” Theresa nodded, her tone still gentle. “She’s proud of you, and she respects what you’ve done. But I think she’s also trying to understand her place in your life beyond the financial side of things. She’s learning about this whole world of wealth, and she’s trying to navigate it while also figuring out who she is.” Adrian’s face softened, his usual businesslike demeanor giving way to something more personal, more reflective. He nodded slowly, still processing everything Theresa had said. “Thank you for telling me this, Theresa,” Adrian said, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity. “It’s not easy to hear, but I needed to.” Theresa smiled gently. “I didn’t want to overstep, but I thought it was important. Sally looks up to you, and I think a little more time with you, a little more attention, would mean the world to her.” Adrian was silent again, deep in thought, but this time, a hint of resolve entered his expression. He straightened in his chair, his decision made. “Send me Sally’s phone number,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “I want to call her personally, and I want to start fixing this.” Theresa’s smile widened, relieved that her words had reached him. “Of course, I’ll send it over right after this call.” Adrian paused for a moment, then leaned forward again, his next words decisive. “Also, arrange for my Gulfstream to pick her up on Friday afternoon after school. Bring her to Zurich for the weekend. I want her here, with me. She can spend time with me, and I’ll make sure she flies back on Sunday night so she doesn’t miss any school.” Theresa was slightly taken aback by how swiftly Adrian made his decision, but she wasn’t surprised. He was a man of action, and now that he understood the depth of the issue, he wasn’t going to waste time. “That’s wonderful, Mr. Weiss,” Theresa said, her voice full of sincerity. “I’m sure Sally will be thrilled to spend the weekend with you.” Adrian smiled faintly, his usual reserved expression softening. “It’s time I start showing her that I’m present in her life, not just in a financial way. I’ve been caught up in business and... other matters, but I won’t let that come between us any longer.” Theresa nodded, deeply respecting the man sitting across from her, even if it was through a screen. “I’ll take care of the arrangements right away. And I’m sure this will make a huge difference for Sally.” Adrian’s expression remained thoughtful but determined. “I hope so. She deserves better from me.” They concluded the meeting on that note, with Theresa feeling a sense of relief and accomplishment. She had spoken from the heart, and Adrian had listened. More importantly, he was taking action. As the call ended, Theresa knew that things were about to change for Sally—and for the better. -- Sally was deeply engrossed in her painting, or at least trying to be. It was Saturday morning, and she had been enjoying the quiet solitude of her studio, wearing only her t-shirt and diaper, which was already slightly damp but comfortable. She loved these moments—just her, the canvas, and the comforting rustle of her diaper. She was in the midst of mixing some colors when her Apple Watch vibrated on her wrist. She glanced down, noticing an unknown number flashing on the screen. Without thinking, she pressed the red circle, cutting the call off. "Probably spam," she muttered to herself, turning her attention back to the canvas. Not even two minutes later, the Watch buzzed again. Same number. Same reaction—she hit the red button without hesitation. But the calls kept coming, interrupting her concentration. After the fourth call, she groaned in frustration, peeling the Apple Watch off her wrist and letting it drop onto the sofa. She stood there, breathing heavily, feeling her annoyance growing. The spell of creativity had been broken, and now she couldn’t get back into her rhythm. "Stupid spam calls..." she grumbled as she waddled down the stairs, her diaper crinkling with each step. In the kitchen, the pantry called to her, and she quickly grabbed a bag of chips and a can of Coke. She plopped herself onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, opening her laptop and aimlessly browsing art supply stores. She wanted something to spark her creativity, but even scrolling through galleries of paintbrushes and canvases wasn’t doing much. Clicking through various websites, she found herself on an art supply store’s page, her eyes lighting up at the possibilities. She scrolled through brushes, canvases, and oils—things she already had but couldn’t help browsing for. The sleek design of a new set of palette knives caught her attention, and she lingered on them, mentally cataloging what she could do with different textures on her next painting. The thought of splurging on some new supplies was tempting, but then she paused, hovering over the checkout button. “Maybe I’ll wait,” she murmured to herself, knowing she already had plenty of materials lying around her studio. After that, her browsing took a more creative turn. She found herself on various online galleries, scrolling through pieces from contemporary artists. Some of the work was breathtaking, but nothing quite resonated with her. A few installations were innovative, but Sally wrinkled her nose at them, thinking, I could do something like that, but better. Other works were too abstract for her taste, while some featured bold, vibrant colors that sparked new ideas in her mind for future projects. Still, nothing really jumped out. “Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “Why is inspiration so hard to come by?” Bridget was working in her study, catching up on some things she hadn’t been able to finish earlier in the week, but soon enough, she entered the kitchen, her eyes falling on Sally, who was distractedly eating chips and sipping her soda. She smiled and went to pour herself a cup of coffee before sitting down across from Sally. "How’s “Masterpiece 2” coming along?" Bridget asked, her voice light with curiosity. Sally groaned, tapping the side of her laptop. "I don’t know. I’ve been browsing art supplies and galleries, but nothing’s really... clicking, you know? After finishing that last piece, I thought I’d be pumped up with ideas, but now I’m just hitting a wall.” Bridget nodded thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "That happens sometimes after a big project. It’s like your creativity needs to recharge." Sally leaned back in her chair, pushing the laptop aside. "Yeah, maybe. I’ve got ideas floating around, but none of them feel good enough to start on." "You’re being hard on yourself," Bridget said gently. "Sometimes you have to just start, even if it doesn’t feel right. You’ll find your flow." Sally sighed again, rubbing her face with her hands. "It’s not just that, though. I was actually getting into it earlier, but then I kept getting spam calls. Six in a row. Completely threw me off." Bridget frowned, setting her cup down. "Six calls? That’s strange. Did you recognize the number?" Sally shook her head. "No. Just some weird international-looking code. Probably spam." Bridget’s brow furrowed in concern. "Sally... six calls in a row? That doesn’t sound like spam. It sounds like someone really needed to get in touch with you." Sally blinked, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. "You think?" Bridget hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "It might’ve been your dad trying to call. He doesn’t usually call, but we talked recently, and he mentioned wanting to speak with you." Sally’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. "Dad? He never calls me." "I know," Bridget said, her voice softening. "But things have been changing between you two. He’s making an effort." Without wasting another moment, Sally shot up from her chair, the crinkling of her diaper loud as she rushed out of the kitchen. Her mother’s voice trailed after her, but she was already focused on finding her phone. She dashed back up to her studio, her heart pounding as she grabbed her phone and checked her missed calls. +41. Sally didn’t know much about international codes, but she knew that looked like a number from Switzerland. It was the same number that had called over and over again. She stared at it for a moment, her hands shaking slightly before she pressed the button to return the call. The phone rang once, twice, then clicked. "Hallo?" came a voice, hurried and quiet. It sounded familiar but distant, and then quickly corrected in English, "Hello?" Sally blinked, momentarily thrown by the German greeting. "Uh... hi? Is this Dad?" There was a brief pause, then a sigh of relief. "Yes, Sally. It’s me." Adrian's voice softened, though it was clear he was still keeping his volume down. "Sorry for the confusion earlier. I was in a meeting." Sally felt her shoulders relax, her initial tension easing. "Oh, I... didn’t know. I thought it was spam." Adrian chuckled softly, the sound a bit awkward. "I suppose I don’t call enough for you to recognize the number, do I?" "No... not really," Sally admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed. She glanced at the door of her studio, where Bridget stood, giving her a reassuring smile before walking in and sitting beside her on the sofa. Bridget took Sally's hand, and the simple gesture gave Sally the confidence to continue the conversation. "I wanted to talk to you about something," Adrian said, his tone still warm but slightly more formal than she was used to. "I’ve been thinking it’s time you spent a little more time with me—here, in Zurich. I want you to visit. You could get to know more about the place, about my life... our life." Sally’s heart raced, and her mind filled with a hundred questions. "Zurich? Like... next weekend?" "Yes," Adrian confirmed. "I’ve already spoken to your mother, and we both think it would be good for you to come. Just for the weekend. Theresa will be flying with you, of course." Sally bit her lip, looking at her mom for reassurance. Bridget nodded gently, squeezing her hand. "But... why now?" Sally asked hesitantly. "I mean, it’s kind of... sudden." Adrian’s voice softened, and there was a brief pause before he answered. "I realize I’ve been... distant. It’s time you got to know me more. My home, my city... There’s a lot we’ve never shared, Sally, and I don’t want that to continue. This isn’t about overwhelming you with responsibility or anything like that. I just want to spend some time with you." Sally felt a lump forming in her throat, unsure of how to respond. The idea of spending the weekend in Zurich with her father—alone—was exciting, but also terrifying. She didn’t know what to expect. But there was something in his voice that sounded sincere, more than just business. "Okay," she said quietly, then more confidently, "Yeah. I’d like that." Adrian’s relief was palpable, even over the phone. "Good. I’m looking forward to it." They spoke a little more, the conversation flowing more easily now. Adrian asked her about her art, how school was going, and even about her friends. He sounded genuinely interested, and Sally found herself smiling despite the nervous energy still buzzing in her chest. After a while, Adrian cleared his throat, signaling the end of the call. "I’ll see you next Friday then. I’ll make sure everything is arranged." "Okay, Dad," Sally replied softly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. "I’ll be ready." When the call ended, Sally stared at the phone in her hand, her mind racing. Bridget leaned in, brushing her daughter’s hair back from her face. "You’ll be fine, sweetheart," Bridget whispered. "He’s trying, you know." Sally nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah, I know. It’s just... a lot to take in." "I understand," Bridget said, smiling softly. "But you’ll figure it out, just like you always do." Sally looked up, her nerves slowly giving way to a small, determined smile. "Yeah. I guess I will." -- Sally sat in silence for a few moments after the call with her father ended, the phone still resting in her hand. A whirlwind of emotions ran through her—surprise, anxiety, and, most surprisingly of all, a rush of excitement. Her heart was still racing, but something had shifted inside her. She had been hesitant about the trip to Zurich, but hearing her father’s softer tone, his genuine invitation to be a part of his world, ignited something within her. For the first time in a long while, she felt a true connection forming between them, and that meant something. It was as if a fog had lifted in her mind. She needed to paint. Without thinking, she stood up abruptly, almost like a robot being activated. Bridget, still sitting nearby, watched her with a knowing smile. She recognized the look in Sally’s eyes—the burst of creative energy that had been missing for the past few days. It was back, and it was strong. Sally barely noticed her mother as she marched across the studio to her easel, her focus entirely on the canvas before her. The blank surface called to her, and she reached for her brush with an almost frantic determination. She felt like everything she had been bottling up—the uncertainty about her father, the pressure of her new reality—was ready to spill out onto the canvas. And this painting, she knew, would be different. Bridget glanced at Sally’s waist as she crossed the room, noticing how her daughter’s diaper had become slightly saggy. She needed a change, that much was obvious. But Bridget, sensing the urgency in Sally’s movements, decided to leave her be for now. A leaky diaper was the least of her concerns if it meant Sally could finally channel this inspiration. Besides, the studio was a safe place for accidents, and the worst thing that could happen was a small puddle on the floor. She smiled to herself at the thought, knowing Sally would likely be too engrossed in her art to notice if it did happen. Sally stood in front of the blank canvas for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly as she dipped her brush into a deep, moody blue. The color reminded her of Zurich, of the cold and unfamiliar city she had only visited briefly before. She wanted this painting to capture the complexity of what she was feeling—the anticipation, the fear, the excitement—and she knew it had to start with bold strokes. Without hesitating, she brought the brush to the canvas, sweeping broad, aggressive lines across the surface. The paint flowed easily, each stroke feeling like a release of tension that had been building inside her for days. She added layers of blues and grays, mixing them on the canvas to create depth and movement, as if the painting itself were alive with the emotions she was trying to express. She worked quickly, almost feverishly, letting the colors swirl and blend, creating something raw and unfinished but deeply personal. As she continued, her focus sharpened. Every stroke felt deliberate, like a piece of the puzzle she was trying to solve within herself. She added darker hues, almost black, along the edges, giving the painting a sense of weight and gravity, like the uncertainty she felt about her relationship with her father. But then, she lightened it with flashes of white and soft yellows, small but hopeful, symbolizing the connection they were beginning to form. It was messy, chaotic, but that was exactly how she felt—torn between worlds, emotions running in different directions but somehow coming together in a way that made sense only to her. She was so absorbed in the act of painting that she barely noticed the familiar warmth spreading between her legs as her body relaxed and wet her diaper. The wetness didn’t bother her; in fact, it grounded her, making her feel more present in the moment. She continued painting, the rhythmic crinkle of her diaper blending into the background as her focus remained on the canvas. Time slipped away, each brushstroke leading to the next, as Sally lost herself completely in her work. The painting was taking shape—something abstract yet deeply meaningful, a representation of her journey, her emotions, and her relationship with both her father and herself. She felt free, liberated in the way only art could make her feel. But after a while, she began to feel the wetness in her diaper grow heavier. It was uncomfortable now, the warmth having turned into a soggy, saturated weight. She paused for a moment, stepping back from the canvas to admire what she had created so far. Her painting was far from finished, but the foundations were there. The colors, the energy, the emotion—it was all beginning to come together in a way that felt right. As she stood there, contemplating her next move, she felt a sudden, unwelcome sensation. The wetness in her diaper had reached its limit, and she felt the telltale sign of a leak. A small trickle ran down her inner thigh, and she froze, glancing down in mild shock. Her diaper had finally given out, and she hadn’t even realized how long she had been working. She touched the fabric of her t-shirt absentmindedly, realizing just how engrossed she had been in her painting. Her heart sank as she looked down, realizing her diaper had leaked. A small, damp spot had formed on the floor of the studio, and she bit her lip in frustration. She’d been so focused on her painting that she hadn’t even noticed how wet she had gotten. Her soggy diaper clung to her skin, sagging heavily between her legs, and she sighed, feeling the weight of it. Bridget, who had been watching quietly from the doorway, stepped forward. “Sally, I think it’s time for a break,” she said, her tone gentle yet knowing. Her eyes flicked down to the wet spot on the floor, and then back up to Sally’s face. “Looks like you’ve been at it for quite a while.” Sally glanced at her mother, then at the small puddle on the floor, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah... I think I might’ve gotten a little carried away.” Bridget chuckled softly, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve been working hard, but it’s time to take care of yourself now. Let’s get you changed.” Sally shifted uncomfortably, feeling the soggy weight of her diaper pressing against her. “Yeah, I guess so...” Bridget took a step back, eyeing the paint stains on Sally’s t-shirt. "And we’ll need to get that off, too. You’re covered in paint, sweetheart." Sally nodded, the adrenaline of her creative burst fading as she realized just how messy she had gotten. Her mother carefully lifted the t-shirt over her head, exposing her bare torso and the soaked diaper clinging to her waist. Sally shivered slightly, not from the cold but from the vulnerability she felt standing there in just her wet diaper. Bridget pulled out a fresh diaper from the nearby changing supplies she had stashed in the studio for moments like these. “Let’s take care of this here so you don’t track anything through the house,” she said, laying a soft towel on the floor. Sally lay down on the towel, her heart still racing a little from the excitement of painting and the awkwardness of needing a change in the middle of her artistic process. Bridget was calm and methodical, as always, undoing the tapes of Sally’s soaked diaper and gently cleaning her up with baby wipes. Sally felt the coolness of the wipes against her skin and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift as her mother worked. “Your painting is really coming together,” Bridget said as she wiped Sally clean, her tone casual, as if this were just another normal moment between them. “You’ve captured something powerful.” Sally smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “Thanks, Mom. I think it’s one of my best so far. I just... felt something today, you know?” “I can see that,” Bridget replied, applying a bit of powder to Sally’s skin before sliding the fresh diaper under her. “You’ve been in the zone.” Once the diaper was secured snugly around her waist, Sally sat up, the familiar crinkle of the clean padding under her reminding her of how much better it felt to be dry again. But she still felt a little self-conscious, sitting there in nothing but her diaper. Her t-shirt was ruined, covered in smudges of blue, gray, and white paint, and she realized she’d have to go upstairs to get another one. “You’re all set,” Bridget said, standing up and offering her hand to help Sally to her feet. “But you’ll need to grab another t-shirt from your room.” Sally groaned playfully, looking down at her bare chest. “Ugh, I guess I have to.” Bridget smiled, giving her a playful nudge. “Go on. I’ll wait here, and we’ll head down to lunch after.” With a nod, Sally padded out of the studio, her bare feet making soft sounds against the hardwood floor. The crinkling of her diaper accompanied her as she walked down the hall, making her way upstairs to her bedroom. She felt a little silly walking through the house in just her diaper, but after everything, she was too hungry to care much. She was more focused on the fact that she had completely lost track of time while painting. Once in her room, she rummaged through her dresser until she found a clean t-shirt, something simple and comfortable. She quickly slipped it on, smoothing it over her chest, and took a moment to glance at herself in the mirror. The diaper felt thicker than usual, but it didn’t bother her. It just felt... normal now, part of her routine when she was in the zone like this. Satisfied, she made her way back downstairs, where Bridget was waiting for her in the kitchen. Her mother was already prepping lunch, and Sally’s stomach growled at the sight of it. “You look much better,” Bridget said with a smile as Sally entered the room. Sally grinned. “Yeah, I needed that change. I guess I was a bit too focused.” Bridget chuckled, setting a plate of sandwiches on the counter. “That’s an understatement. I don’t think you even realized it was mid-afternoon.” Sally blinked, glancing at the clock. “Wait, really? I thought it was still morning.” Bridget shook her head fondly. “You got lost in your art again. It’s a good thing, but next time, let’s try not to leak all over the studio.” Sally laughed, feeling a wave of relief as she sat down at the table. The painting would still be there, waiting for her when she was ready to get back to it. But for now, she was content to enjoy lunch with her mom, knowing that her burst of inspiration had been worth the minor mess. Chapter 44 - Hamburgers and Coke Sally was just finishing lunch when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Bridget, looking startled, placed her sandwich down and hurried to the door. “Oh no, I totally forgot! Theresa’s coming by to talk about your trip,” she said over her shoulder, waving Sally’s direction. Sally’s eyes widened, realizing she was still in her diaper and t-shirt from painting earlier. She glanced down at herself, feeling the panic set in. I can’t meet Theresa like this! Without another word, she bolted upstairs, her diaper crinkling with every hurried step. Once in her room, Sally rushed to her dresser, fully intending to take off the diaper and change into something more presentable. She paused, though, when her eyes landed on a light blue skirt hanging in her closet. It was loose and comfortable, and best of all, it would easily hide her diaper. She reached for it, holding it up to her yellow t-shirt, and smiled at how well they matched. Why not? she thought, pulling the skirt on over her diaper. It was still dry, so there was no reason to change out of it. She spun around in front of the mirror briefly, satisfied that the diaper was well concealed. Feeling a little more confident, she made her way back downstairs to join her mother and Theresa. As she stepped into the living room, Theresa greeted her with a warm smile. “There she is,” Theresa said. “Good to see you, Sally.” Sally grinned, slightly self-conscious but also amused by the fact that nobody in the room had any idea she was wearing a diaper under her skirt. It felt like a secret she was keeping to herself. Theresa and Bridget exchanged pleasantries before Theresa turned her attention back to Sally. “You know, I meant to tell you earlier—I was in a meeting with your dad when he got your call. You should’ve seen the room! Everyone was stunned when he took the call. Apparently, interrupting a meeting like that is unheard of for him.” Sally’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? He stopped the meeting... for me?” “Oh, definitely,” Theresa nodded, leaning in slightly. “Everyone was talking about it afterward. You were the most discussed person in the room, even though nobody knew who the call was from. Well, except for me, of course.” Sally couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and embarrassment at the thought of being the center of attention in such an important meeting. She fidgeted slightly, feeling the familiar crinkle of her diaper as she shifted her weight, but kept her composure. “Wow, I had no idea,” she said, laughing softly. “It’s weird to think that everyone was talking about me.” “They were,” Theresa confirmed, smiling. “But only in the best way. Your dad really made it clear how important you are.” The conversation shifted toward Sally’s upcoming trip, and she found herself growing more excited as they talked about it. Theresa explained the basic details of the itinerary, and for a moment, Sally assumed they’d be flying with a commercial airline, like United or Swiss, just like the last time she had flown to Zurich as a kid. “Oh, right, so we’ll fly out of JFK or maybe even Newark?” Sally asked casually, not realizing how wrong her assumption was. Theresa blinked, suddenly understanding the confusion. She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Oh no, Sally. We won’t be flying commercial. Your dad is sending his jet for you.” Sally’s mouth dropped open in shock, and she felt a sudden flutter of excitement mixed with disbelief. His jet? She had completely forgotten that her father owned a private plane. “Wait... you mean his jet? Like, we’re flying private?” Sally asked, her voice tinged with both amazement and embarrassment for having forgotten such an important detail. Theresa smiled knowingly. “Yep. It’s a lot quicker than flying commercial. That’s why I’m picking you up from school on Friday, bringing you home to change, and then we’ll head straight to the airport. We’re expecting to take off around six.” Sally furrowed her brow, still trying to process everything. “But... how? It takes forever to get to JFK or LaGuardia during rush hour. How can we take off so fast?” Theresa exchanged a quick look with Bridget, who was smiling softly at her daughter’s confusion. Realization dawned on Theresa, and she chuckled. “Sally, we’re not flying out of JFK. We’ll be leaving from a private airport nearby. No security lines, no crowds. We’ll drive up, walk to the plane, and take off. Simple as that.” Sally was stunned into silence for a moment. She felt her diaper crinkle again as she shifted in her seat, trying to comprehend the logistics of it all. Flying private seemed so far removed from her normal experience, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of her depth. “That’s... that’s amazing,” she finally said, her mind racing with questions. “What’s the plane like? I don’t remember it.” Theresa grinned, clearly enjoying Sally’s curiosity. “It’s a Gulfstream. Very comfortable, lots of space. You’ll get to see it soon enough.” Sally sat back in her seat, still processing the idea of flying on a private jet, her thoughts swirling. She absentmindedly pressed her hand against her skirt, feeling the soft padding of her diaper underneath. The thought of flying in a private jet while wearing a diaper made her giggle internally. Nobody knows I’m wearing this, she thought to herself, almost feeling like it added to the surreal experience. Theresa continued explaining how the trip would go, and Sally listened closely, but her mind kept wandering back to the jet, the adventure that awaited her, and the funny little secret she was carrying with her under her skirt. Theresa was standing by the door, ready to head out, when she turned back to Sally and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll be here to pick you up on Friday, right after school.” Sally, still trying to process the whole idea of flying in a private jet, bit her lip and asked, “What should I wear? I mean, I’ve never flown in a private jet before... Do I have to dress fancy?” Theresa’s smile broadened, clearly amused by Sally’s question. “Oh, no, no! You can wear anything you find comfortable, Sally. Even your pajamas if you like! We’ll be flying through the night, so you’ll even have a bed on the plane to sleep in.” Sally blinked, surprised. “A bed? On the plane?” Theresa nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Oh, yeah! Flying private is completely different from what you’re used to. No cramped seats, no lines at security, no boarding passes... It’s like stepping into a hotel in the sky. You can sleep, watch movies, and eat whatever you like.” Sally’s mind spun with the possibilities, and as she sat there listening to Theresa’s description, she felt a soft warmth spreading in her diaper. She had hydrated herself heavily during lunch and, without thinking much about it, she let herself relax, silently wetting her diaper bit by bit. The warmth was comforting, and it added to the sense of relaxation she was feeling in the conversation. Theresa leaned in slightly, her tone becoming more conspiratorial, as if she were letting Sally in on a secret. “Actually, speaking of food, I wanted to ask—what’s your favorite food? Or drinks? I can make sure we have everything ready for you on the plane.” Sally’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean... I can just have whatever I want?” “Exactly,” Theresa said with a grin. “It’s all part of the experience. If you want burgers, pasta, pizza—anything—you can have it. Drinks too. Whatever makes you feel comfortable during the flight.” Sally felt a spark of excitement. “Oh! I really like burgers. And... um, maybe some Coke?” Theresa nodded, making a mental note. “Burgers and Coke, got it. Anything else? Maybe some snacks for the trip? You’ll want to have something to munch on while you’re watching movies.” Sally thought for a moment, her excitement building. “Maybe... chips? Oh! And gummy bears!” Theresa laughed softly. “Gummy bears, I love it. Done.” Bridget, who had been quietly observing the conversation, chuckled and leaned forward. “She’s got a sweet tooth, that’s for sure. But this sounds incredible, Theresa. Sally, you’re really going to love this experience.” Sally couldn’t help but smile as her mother joined the conversation. She felt so at ease, the warmth in her diaper slowly spreading as she continued wetting herself little by little. She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the soft bulk of the diaper beneath her, and giggled internally at how nobody knew her little secret. The conversation made her feel more relaxed, more comfortable—something she hadn’t expected from discussing a private jet trip. Theresa, sensing the growing excitement, continued, “Honestly, Sally, the best part is the freedom. You can walk around, lay down whenever you want, and we’ll have movies, music—anything you need to make the trip enjoyable. Plus, the flight attendants are amazing. They’ll cater to whatever you need.” “Wow...,” Sally breathed, her mind racing. “I didn’t realize flying private was so... different.” Bridget smiled warmly, watching her daughter’s face light up with each new detail. “I’m so glad you’re excited, sweetheart. It’s going to be such a special experience.” Sally nodded, feeling the growing excitement settle in her chest. “Yeah... I guess it’s going to be amazing.” Theresa leaned back, crossing her arms and nodding with satisfaction. “Trust me, you’re going to love it. It’s a whole different world up there. And hey, if you feel like changing into something more comfortable during the flight, you can always do that too.” Sally giggled, shifting again in her seat, the squish of her diaper reminding her that she might need to change before the trip. But the idea of lounging in her pajamas or even just relaxing in whatever she wanted on the plane sounded like pure bliss. As the conversation wound down, Sally couldn’t help but feel more at ease, her earlier anxieties fading away. She had started the conversation with a sense of nervousness, unsure of what to expect, but now she felt fully prepared—and more than a little curious—about her upcoming adventure. Bridget, noticing how relaxed and comfortable Sally was, felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Thank you for explaining all this, Theresa. It’s made such a difference for Sally.” Theresa smiled, giving Bridget a knowing nod. “Of course. I’m just glad she’s excited now.” Sally, still feeling the soft warmth of her diaper beneath her skirt, grinned. "I am. I can't wait." Her mind was already buzzing with thoughts about the plane, the food, the movies... and the little secret she’d be carrying with her the whole time. As Theresa stood up to leave, she gave Sally a warm smile. "See you Friday, Sally. Get excited—it's going to be a great trip." Sally grinned back, and on a sudden impulse, she got up from her chair and gave Theresa a quick hug. Theresa seemed slightly surprised but her smile widened, clearly pleased by the gesture. “Thanks, Tess,” Sally said as she pulled back. “I’m looking forward to it.” Theresa beamed at her, giving her a small wink. “Me too. See you soon!” Once Theresa had left, the door clicking softly behind her, Sally turned back to her mother. Bridget was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watching her daughter with a knowing look. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I’m guessing,” Bridget began, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “you’re still wearing that diaper, and if I know you, it’s probably wet by now.” Sally paused, then broke into a crooked smile. She reached down, lifted the hem of her light blue skirt, and revealed the swollen diaper underneath. “Guilty,” she said with a mischievous smirk.
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