critique please All for Daddy. Chapter 7

[Kitty Angel]

Not sure how well this idea will work. I just started it as a break from (very) long stories. Should only be 5-6 chapters, I think (Edit: looks like it might be a bit longer than that, but not too long). Opinions very much welcome.

 

Goodbye

“We’re only a phone call away. Or a text. Any kind of problems, just give us a call.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll be fine.”

“He means it, you know. You never have to be ‘fine’, you don’t have to put up with anything. Give us a call, any time, and your dad will be right over there to pick you up.”

“Yes, Mum. I know.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind if you’re scared, you know. You don’t have to do this, most of those people on the Internet never come out of their bedrooms anyway.”

“Yes, Mum,” Imogen answered, her patience already beginning to wear thin. “But I volunteered to help. With the backstage stuff for the broadcast.”

“But y–”

“And I’m not scared, I’m excited. I’ve been looking forward to this for months.”

“But what if you have trouble with all those bags? Will you be able to find the hotel? Will you–”

“I’m twenty-two Dad, not twelve. And Professor Kent is going to meet me at the station to make sure I get there okay.”

“You should show your father more respect, Imogen. And are you sure you can trust this man? How do you know he’s a real professor? It could be anyone, when you talk to him on the Internet. How do you know he won’t try to…”

“Mum,” Imogen said, as firmly as she dared. “We’ve been over this before. There will be more than a hundred people from OGC at the conference, it’s not like I’m rushing off to meet with someone I barely know. I’ve been talking to him for months, and he’s never shown any interest in anything beyond how to solve sudoku puzzles. And how to set them. I’m just one of his students, and I’ll be there with all the others.”

“We talked to that Jessie girl,” her dad added. “She was excited about this class too, and she sounded pretty grounded. You know, for someone on the spectrum.”

“Dad,” Imogen growled, just a little exasperated. “It’s great that you finally caught up with the current terminology, but you still use it like an insult. Jessie is a friend, more than anything. We’re going to look after each other. And I’m going to be helping to look after the younger members. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.”

“But you’re meeting this guy, how do you know–”

“Mum, please! I’m not ‘meeting’ anyone. I’m going to a conference for members of an online community I’ve put hundreds of hours into, and that’s introduced me to an intellectually stimulating hobby. I’m going to see a lot of people there, but it’s an organised event. You know that, you’ve called up enough of the organisers, trying to micro-manage every little detail that I could have sorted out when I got there.”

“A normal person could have sorted it out.” The tone said so much more than her words could. “But you need–”

“And I’m not normal, mum? Huh?”

“You’re special, Immy. And we love you very much, but other people might not understand. You should show a little more–”

“Yes, thank you, mum. But I can do it myself, if you just give me a chance. And–” She paused, holding up a finger when she saw her mum preparing to speak again. “And it’s time for my train now. I’m organised, I’m grown up, and I’ve had all this planned for months. So if you really want to help me, you wouldn’t be trying to make me late now.”

Imogen turned, picked up her bags, and walked briskly towards the ticket barriers that would quickly separate her from her parents. They kept talking once she left, of course, probably telling her that she needed their help, but she was done listening. She needed them to know that she could do this by herself. And more than anything, she needed not to miss this train.

She put one bag down while she scanned her ticket in front of the sensor, and the little gate opened to let her onto the platform. Then she grabbed the bag as quickly as she could, and hurried forward. Her parents were still behind her, but thankfully there was a member of staff standing right there. The slogan on his tabard and the leaflets in his hand said that he was just trying to convince people about the financial benefits of a season ticket, but for all their stubbornness Imogen’s parents weren’t likely to try barging through the barriers after her right next to a man in uniform.

“I’ll read it on the train,” she said, accepting one of the leaflets. She could see, once she was inside the station, that it was already waiting at the platform, so she could just gesture vaguely and run towards it. Rail company employees would never try to “and another thing” someone running for a train.

Twenty minutes later, she had managed to stow most of her bags in a luggage rack at the end of the carriage, and the last one just about fitted under her seat. She breathed a long sigh of relief, and glanced out of the window as the station, and the town, slowly started to slide past. Her parents were probably running along the edge of the parking lot, waving to her through the fence, but she couldn’t see them from here. For the first time in a long while, Imogen felt free.

She sat there, thinking about the trip ahead. She was going to a sudoku convention, that was simple enough. And they were trying to make a sudoku-themed gameshow, like the kind of thing that might have been on daytime TV in the ‘90s, as part of the proceedings. She was nervous about that, and hoped it would succeed. And of course a more standard speed-solving competition, which she thought a streaming service had already picked up the rights to, and which was helping to fund this big meet-up. It was all exciting, but there were no unknowns there, so it was something she could easily deal with.

She was going to meet people she only knew as names on a screen, and that would be more complex. Not because she was afraid of any of those people; nobody could be truly malevolent with a heart so packed full with mathematics. But her own lack of knowledge scared her a little. There were probably only a dozen people on there who had pictures on their profiles or their own video channels where she had seen their faces. She would be very surprised if someone she mentally pigeonholed as an elderly academic turned out to be thirteen, or something, but she was well aware it was a surprise she deserved. As much as she wanted to think of these people as her friends, she only knew them by their puzzles, their records, and the other hobbies that came up in conversation. Young or old, male or female, for most of her friends she was just guessing. And as much as she didn’t think those things were really important, she was sure that she would find herself doing a double-take at least once during the weekend, because one of her closest friends was very different from the person she imagined.

Professor Kent, Dan, was one of the people she was sure she didn’t have to worry about. Idle rumours about him having less-than-wholesome interests didn’t scare her. She trusted him absolutely and without question. Her first messages to him had probably been something to cringe over; a suggestion that they would one day become good friends because screen names like Imogenation and Dangineer suggested a similar way of looking at the world. But over the last couple of years she had started to pay more and more attention to his posts, and to the tutorials and tips he shared. He was a genius, there was no doubt about that. Half the community seemed to idolise him for setting skills that left mere mortals in the dust, especially when it came to his favourite quirk, symmetrical puzzles. And he hadn’t ignored her after that first awkward message. Over time they had talked so much, shared so many stories, and sympathised with each other’s problems. They really had become friends, so her prediction had been right after all.

They were like the best of friends, even though they had never met face to face. Even though she only knew what he looked like because she had looked up some of his videos. He was an eccentric genius in the sudoku world, constructing weird puzzles with constraints that nobody else would think of, but in the real world he was a statistical anthropology lecturer at a well-respected university. And unlike the videos he posted about puzzle setting techniques, the recordings of his lectures shared on the university website showed his actual face, and drawings on an actual chalkboard rather than the vector graphics he preferred to use to convey his point.

The best of friends. And she was sure that was all he wanted. Almost certain, anyway. He would never try to cross that line. He would never try to leverage authority, or trust, into an unearned intimacy in the way Imogen’s mother insisted any man would. But it was too easy to visualise how it might go if he did, and those images frequently cropped up when Imogen let her imagination wander. It had built up slowly, a feeling that never surprised her because it was never something new; but had been a big shock when she realised how long she had felt this way. It wasn’t anything lewd or tawdry, she had just started to notice that she felt happy whenever he came online. She eagerly anticipated his every word. She was delighted when he said her name, and his opinion mattered more to her than anyone else’s. And when some malicious rival on the forums had tried to spread rumours about him, accusing him of being into all kinds of dirty, kinky things under a different name, she had been among the first to defend his reputation.

That was the problem. Bullies and rivals, people with fake names, they’d said that he shouldn’t be allowed to mentor minors on a respectable sudoku server because he was into awful, depraved things like ABDL, EMC, and MDLG. She hadn’t known what those letters even stood for, but had felt the need to defend Dan anyway. He was her friend, he couldn’t be into such objectionable practices. Or if he was then he kept it confined to a tiny corner of his life, where the people he talked to here would never even know about it. Why did it matter if a teacher was kinky, gay, or whatever; it wasn’t relevant unless he mentioned it in his tutorials, or tried to bring students into his kink, which nobody even claimed.

Still, after too many arguments with people who didn’t need any evidence to justify hate, she had started to wonder what those acronyms actually meant. She had expected to find some brutal leather and latex fantasy that would disturb her so much, she would instantly be certain it wasn’t Dan’s cup of tea. But instead, she had spent a weekend reading about this alternate lifestyle, how people felt about it, and what it meant to them. It had taken a weekend to fully understand why it was such a big deal for so many people, but in just ten minutes she had known that she would never be able to look away.

Now she could only hope. She could only dream that Dan was a real Daddy, and that he would understand if she tried to communicate to him what she wanted more than anything else.

Her heart was racing now, just from thinking about what lay ahead. She was going to be on this train for an hour longer, and she still wouldn’t be close to meeting Dan, so she needed to calm down. And there was one thing that she knew would help with that.

She glanced up and down the carriage, still mostly empty. There wouldn’t be many passengers beside her until they passed Springfield, at the earliest. She wondered if she should be feeling guilty about even considering this on a train, but she told herself that nobody would even know. After a long moment of indecision, she lifted out her ticket again and set it on the tray table in front of her, with her phone placed on one corner to hold it in place. That way, nobody would need to wake her just to check that she had actually paid for this journey.

Another deep breath, and Imogen told herself that there was nothing wrong with this. She just needed to relax. She put her earbuds in, and returned the case to her pocket. She tapped at her phone, went into the media player and scrolled down until she found a file named ‘Lady Larsen — Perfect Toddler Trigger’. Just thinking about that recording excited her so much, but it was paradoxically perfect for helping her to relax on a long journey. She pressed play, locked her screen, and made sure that her phone was placed so it would hold her ticket still. And then she heard the chimes, and a voice telling her to relax as Lady Larsen counted down.

Imogen’s eyes closed without thinking, sinking into the soft embrace of well-warn train seats, and before the count reached three her mind was already gone.

[Vampers]

This is a great start! Interesting premise, and got me looking forward to more ^^

[Kitty Angel]

Thanks  Probably just a short one here (I'm pretty sure this won't balloon to 100+ chapters), but hope you're enjoying Immy's journey.

 

 

Dear Daddy Dearest

“Daddy,” Geni muttered sleepily, her left hand reaching out for a teddy before she even opened her eyes. And then a tremor went through her body, the world rattling around her, and her mind jumped back to the present.

Her name was Imogen, or Immy to her friends. Geni, Genny, Ginny or numerous other variants were characters she had created when trying to express her desires in a fictional form; though she'd never had the confidence to present those OCs and their world to anyone else. She knew right away where she was; she’d nodded off on the train, and dreamed that she was a little baby for Daddy to toy with however he wanted.

A chirp from her left ear reminded her of one more detail. Her earbuds needed to be recharged now, which prompted her to unlock her phone again so that she could check the time. She’d listened to Lady Larsen’s hypnosis file again, both to help her relax and to get herself ready in case a certain someone was actually willing to play the part of her daddy once she got to the conference.

She hadn’t told him how she really felt. She knew that would be a problem, but it had never seemed like the right moment. She kept on telling herself that it would be easier in person, and that fateful meeting was fast approaching now. And all she had was hope; hope that those rumours had some truth behind them. It was like preparing for a first date all over again; or preparing to ask a guy out. Imogen thought hard, and realised that she would probably be a lot less nervous if she’d ever had either of those experiences, rather than reading about them while her parents tried so hard to protect her from her real world classmates.

She took a deep breath now, trying to dispel some of the anxiety. It was easy to imagine that she would meet up with the guy who had promised to help her find the hotel when she arrived, and he would offer to hang around for a while because she was all alone in an unfamiliar town. And then she’d try her best to show him that she was interested; but he’d be able to sense the nerves beneath the surface. Somehow he would know that she hadn’t really gone through most of the rites of passage that people went through in their teenage years, and he’d see she was a child at heart no matter how hard she tried to hide it. And then all it would take was one careless word, one childish glance, and he’d naturally fall into treating her like a little girl; choosing food for her at the restaurant, asking if she’d remembered to use the bathroom. And no matter if she said she was a big girl now, he would insist on staying around to protect her.

She realised that she was breathing hard just thinking about it. That was an absurd fantasy, and she knew that, but she wanted it to come true more than anything else. And maybe it meant there was something wrong with her, because the thought of being treated like a child turned her on more than anything in the past.

Would it be better if he was a naughty daddy? An older man who wanted to take advantage of her naïvete? Or a responsible figure who could be strong enough to protect her innocence? She knew there were all kinds of people in the ABDL communities online, all kinds of age regression fantasy, but they all called to her. She just needed to work out which one was Dan’s cup of tea, and then find a way to let him know that she was interested. It shouldn’t be that hard. But before she could build her plan in any more detail, an announcement distorted through the speakers in the corner of the carriage told her that the next stop would be Springfield; so she needed to focus on getting off this train and getting on the one she needed to take next.

She put the tickets back in her pocket, noting that someone had been around to stamp them while she had been asleep or entranced, and checked that all the pockets on her bag were still properly fastened. Her earbuds went back into their case so they could be charged. She checked for the fifth time that she hadn’t forgotten to return her phone to its usual pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, and then hurried to the end of the carriage as she heard the bleeps indicating that the train doors were opening.

As she stepped out she noted that they were on platform 9 at Springfield station; and she briefly closed her eyes to aid with visualising the map that she had memorised the night before. Her next train would probably be leaving from platform 6, which meant going up an escalator, across the bridge, through the main booking hall, and down two flights of stairs to get to the oldest part of the station. It was practically a maze here, with platforms pointing in all directions on different levels, coffee shops charging extortionate prices to passengers who had nowhere else to go if the waiting rooms were overcrowded, and information desks that could mostly only direct you to different information desks. Exactly the kind of place Imogen’s parents had always done their best to protect her from; because if they couldn’t find their way around amongst the milling crowds, someone like her would have no chance. The same reason they had always done their best to keep her away from people her own edge outside of school, to save her from being corrupted; and she’d had to learn about life from the Internet instead.

Off the train, she looked up at the nearest sign. It suggested that the elevators were to the left and emergency exits to the right, which told her she was somewhere around the middle of the platform. Roughly where she had expected to be, so she ducked behind one of the coffee stands to separate her from the densest part of the crowd. There was another train opposite on platform 8, but it started here and wasn’t due to leave for nearly fifteen minutes, so the number of people bustling on this side was quite a lot lower. The escalator was going to be the bottleneck, and there was a big queue of people with wheeled suitcases trying to get into the elevator. But Imogen remembered that the map had shown an additional staircase at the southern end of the platform, connected to a smaller footbridge that was no longer pointed to by any of the signs. She turned that way and headed up metal stairs that rattled underfoot, before descending at the end of platform 3. Then she could duck through the waiting room to find a staircase which led down to the waiting room on the platform below. Not quite the route she had originally planned across the complex, but she had no trouble comparing the ebb and flow of crowds in front of her to a map perfectly reproduced in her mind, and finding a path without needing to peer over people’s heads at inconsistent signs or yell at station employees.

There was something simple and satisfying about finding the most efficient route through a complex building, and maybe it was easier when she’d learned to navigate places like this by staring at maps, rather than getting used to them in person. And then she was on the platform, a few minutes before her train arrived, and looking forward to the next stage of the journey.

This time she had a first class ticket; an expense her parents would have said was a wasteful extravagance, but she considered that it was worth it just to be sure of getting a seat where she could relax and not be jostled for most of the journey. Trains were almost a home away from home at times, feeling safer and more private than her actual home. And this time, she knew that she had a lot to do on the journey. There were so many things she wanted to tell Dan, if he was even willing to try being her Daddy, and she didn’t know where to start. However, she had made some plans already, so that once he decided to be Daddy she knew she wouldn’t be able to chicken out. She had been listening to a couple of recordings for a long time now, which she could use to give him all the control. But that would only help if he understood how they worked.

She fumbled through her bag, pulling out a little notepad, and began to write. She resisted the urge to go into any great depth, because this wasn’t a letter. It was a note she could give him for reference once he already knew what she wanted. She just wanted to get the details down so that it would be easier for him to take control; easier for him to take all her choices away, like the Daddies in those stories she had skimmed, or in her own fantasies that she had scrawled on paper while trying to understand these strange desires.

“Daddy,” she wrote, in her best cute, loopy handwriting. “Do what you want with me. I mean it. I’ve read some of those stories, and I love all of them. Whether it’s kinky or wholesome, baby or toddler, it all works for me. It turns me on so much when–”

She shook her head. That was too wordy, it gave her too much time to procrastinate and she knew that if she started off like that she would never get to the point. She tore the page out of the notebook, screwed the paper into a little ball, and dropped it at her feet. Maybe she would remember to pick it up and find a bin when she disembarked; if not, whoever found it would be unlikely to read it and even less likely to know who the authrix might be. She needed to write something simple, to just set out the facts. She smoothed out a fresh page, and started again.

“Daddy. I listened to some hypnosis recordings. I hope that appeals to you. I have triggers and I trust you to be the one who pulls them. Use them however you want. I really mean that.

“If you call me ‘My Little Princess’ I become sweet and innocent, forgetting all about grown-up naughty stuff, so you can do anything and I won’t know if it’s weird, or you can teach me all that stuff again and it’s like the first time every time.” Imogen’s heart raced as she wrote that. She was already thinking about the ways he used that power over her; and there wasn’t one fantasy that didn’t make her tremble with excitement when she imagined those dreams coming true. But she couldn’t lose herself in her own imagination; she had a note to write, and she was determined to make sure that it was complete.

“Or you call me ‘My Baby Doll’ and I will wet my pants and start acting like a toddler, until you tell me I can be a big girl. I won’t be able to help it if it works and you can do whatever you want with me like that. I want it to be your choice, I want it to be a surprise.”

Now her heart was pounding. She was giving him all the power, all the choice. And she had no doubt that it was exactly what she wanted. But she couldn’t let herself dive too deep into those fantasies right now; she wouldn’t have any privacy until they got to the hotel, but even in the train’s first class car, with business travellers all around, it took a real effort of will to keep her hands above the table.

She didn’t want to be panting with lust when she met Dan, either. Approaching him, letting him know she was interested in this stuff, and discovering whether his rumoured interest was for real, would be a delicate conversation that needed a lot of thought. She needed to be calm before then, and she needed to be in control. She needed a way to relax before they got there, and she knew there was only one option she could think of right now. So she lifted the earbuds out of her pocket again, extracted them from their case, and started looking for a certain file on her phone.

After a little more thought, she made sure to close the notebook and put her ticket where it could easily be found. But she knew that the longer she kept thinking about those scenes without a calm, commanding voice to guide her, the greater the chance of her doing something she would regret later. That was exactly why she needed a strong Daddy to take control of her.

She tapped play, turned the screen off, and folded her hands on top of her phone, right in the middle of the tray table. And a second later, she heard the sound of a countdown she couldn’t help but follow. It was exactly what she needed.

[WBDaddy]

I love this drawn-out setup, and to be honest, I'm totally rooting for it all to be turned on its head, not because I have anything against the protagonist, but because I can't imagine a writer going through this much effort to build anticipation without there being a monkey wrench being thrown into the payoff. 

[Kitty Angel]

I'm not actually sure about the ending of this one… keep changing my mind between two options.

But right now, my writing is being slowed down by a smaller decision. I'm tempted to say that this conference/convention is being held at Hotel Academia, which has appeared in a few of my other stories. And I'm not sure if that would be too contrived. Do you think it's believable to have a conference like this in a hotel styled like an old-fashioned English boarding school, in a city famous for casinos and weird theme hotels? Or should I just come up with a generic hotel for this one?

[aldl4811]

Exciting start to this one. Maybe the hotel can have two conferencing happening at the same time, one of which is what she originally came for, the other is something a little less wholesome. Just an idea

[Kitty Angel]

On 1/13/2026 at 1:06 AM, aldl4811 said:

Exciting start to this one. Maybe the hotel can have two conferencing happening at the same time, one of which is what she originally came for, the other is something a little less wholesome. Just an idea

Thanks  That's an interesting idea

When writing chapter 3, the story headed off in a way I really wasn't expecting… but I think it actually works pretty well. Not quite the plot I was planning, but maybe parallel to it. I'd be interested to see anyone's guesses now about where this one will go. (And if this chapter puts you off, please let me know as well. I'm not sure how well it works, but now I've seen this version it seems to be where her emotional progression was always leading to)

[Yeah… it's a very short chapter. Sorry about that]

 

 

Needing You

Imogen’s eyes fluttered open. She could feel warmth on the back of one hand, which pulled her back to wakefulness as she tried to focus enough to see where it was coming from.

There was a cup of coffee on her tray table. For a second she wasn’t sure where she was, but it took a single glance around to take in the scene around her. She was on a train, of course. She was going to this year’s Puzzle World Weekender; the first major sudoku event in the country to have a proper TV deal. She was looking forward to it so much, and in just half an hour she would be getting herself set up in a comfortable hotel room; with a little over a full day to relax before the event actually started. And maybe, if she was lucky, to spend some quality time with Dan Kent; better known to her as Professor K, or Dangineer.

“Hope you don’t mind, dear,” a lady in the seat opposite turned to address her, holding up a glass of wine. “You looked completely wiped out when the young man came around asking what drinks we wanted. I suggested that you might appreciate having strong coffee on hand when you awoke.”

“Uh… thank you,” Imogen said with a smile. She raised the cup and sniffed at it. It was strong, rich, and black; she could tell that much before she tasted it. And before she could comment on that, she noticed that there was a tiny little tin jug filled with milk in the corner of the table. She poured some into the mug, and it looked a lot more friendly.

“I wasn’t sure if you’re too young to appreciate good coffee,” the lady continued, “I gather it’s no longer so popular among the younger generation. But better than nothing, if you haven’t slept so well.”

“T…thank you,” Imogen answered, and raised the cup again. She wasn’t quite sure what she should say. Normally she would have been so embarrassed for someone to call her young; but the longer this journey went on, the harder it was becoming to avoid imagining Dan treating her like a child. She had spent half her life hating the fact that her parents didn’t want her to learn about the real world; but now she could only fantasise about one of her closest online friends babying her when they met. And she really wasn’t sure what drew the dividing line to make those thoughts so different.

She turned her head back to the notebook in front of her. She still had a letter to write, though she thought the last version was as good as it was likely to get. And she didn’t know if she would ever be in a position to hand over the instructions in any case. She couldn’t even think about doing that until she knew how Dan really felt; and that was something that would take all of her limited social skills to discover.

She sipped the coffee. It was surprisingly good; not burned like it often was on board trains. She decided to make a mental note of that; maybe it was worth knowing that this particular train company could do good coffee, in case that was a tiebreaker when she was trying to choose between different routes in future. Out of curiosity, she picked up a menu which was tucked into a pocket on the back of the seat in front. They made a big deal that all their coffee was fair trade and alliance certified, and certificates to show that all of their food offerings were either vegan, free range, or some combination. Even the tea was organic, though she found it hard to imagine how it could not be.

The food available onboard sounded really good. It was the kind of menu you would expect to see at a high-class restaurant with stars next to its name and a waiting list for reservations. She’d never even thought about it, but now Imogen wanted to give it a try. But she knew that wouldn’t be an option; she barely had time to finish the coffee before she was ramming her notebook back into her bag and double checking for the fifth time that she hadn’t left anything behind.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as a guy in a train company uniform pressed the door-open button for her. And then she was stepping down onto the platform, the hunger awakened by reading that menu now competing with butterflies that wanted to conquer her tummy. She couldn’t believe that she was finally here, ready for the most nerve-wracking weekend of her life. Even the speed-solvers who were hoping for a place in the televised finals couldn’t have been so nervous.

She could see a pyramid from the platform, and what looked like a replica of the Eiffel tower, and a building with delicate fluted columns. They loomed over the relatively-simple station buildings, making it impossible to miss where you were. Of course, it was a city of casinos, and that meant that every single venue had to be excessively, demonstratively rich. This was a place to show off, and it had to exude wealth from every surface; everything was a show. And in a way, that was reassuring. Like a kid at the carnival, surrounded by larger than life façades, she didn’t have to think too much about the impression she presented if she could believe that none of this was real.

A deep breath, and she started to walk along the platform. This time all the trains were on the same level; there were no intersecting lines and bridges here. But there were a whole lot more buildings, with no clear line to mark where the waiting rooms and cafes gave way to  what seemed like some kind of food court, and escalators led down from the platforms straight into the middle of a busy mall. Imogen’s heart started to beat faster as she walked between unfamiliar shops; not just because the plans she’d been able to look over beforehand were less detailed here, but also because it finally hit her that Dan was right here, under the same giant roof. All of a sudden she doubted whether she was actually doing the right thing; whether it might have been better to keep living with her fantasies, and chatting with her closest friend online.

She didn’t know what to do. Her steps slowed and she came to a stop and nobody cared. The crowd parted around her, some people brushing against her arms, as she stared without seeing at all the signs. What should she do? Where should she go? Could she cope with seeing Dan if she didn’t have the courage to confess how she felt? Would he think she’d only been interested in his body all that time, and didn’t really appreciate the effort he’d put into teaching her how to make puzzles? Would all the people she’d been chatting with for months or years be able to see something was wrong?

“Imogen?”

The voice right behind her jolted her out of the fugue. In her imagination he would have put a hand on her shoulder; but it seemed he was aware of how nervous she was. She spun around on the spot, a dozen words rushing to her lips at once so that she could barely manage a coherent greeting.

“I’m sorry!” she managed, and some impulse made her take a half step closer. She might have just fallen then, or she might have turned to flee from her feelings, but that was when Dan could see how much she needed a little support. As soon as his hands came out to support her she let herself fall against him, sobbing gently. She didn’t know what to say, as all her emotions and all her doubts crashed together. She just stood there and sobbed, grateful to have such support when she had least expected it.

[Kitty Angel]

Hope You’re Well

“You said you were changing trains at Springfield,” Dan said. It was hard to read his tone now, but Imogen thought that she could see a smile in his eyes. She was sure that she wasn’t looking her best now; the tears might only have lasted a few minutes, but she was sure the aftermath would haunt her all day. She didn’t really know what had happened, she was normally pretty good at dealing with crowds, noisy places, and unfamiliar surroundings. But maybe when all of those things came together, she hadn’t had enough self-control left to fight back the nerves she had been repressing all morning, and had simply been overwhelmed. Still not the best look for a first date. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and made a futile attempt to stop her nose running as she tried to work out what to say.

“I guess I did,” she answered, and gave a little shudder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m not normally so…” A vague wave took in her own dishevelled appearance, maybe indicating the whole situation. Although the world around her was calmer now; Dan had quickly escorted her to somewhere quieter, maybe sensing that the noise wasn’t making it any easier for her to gather her thoughts. As she recovered her composure as much as she was able, she saw that they were in some kind of restaurant. A little booth, with high-backed seats hiding them from the rest of the venue so nobody could judge her. There was a mug of hot chocolate in front of her, filling the air with the scent of cinnamon and maybe some more exotic spices; and the centre of the brass table contained a plate with a small arrangement of cookies. She took one and nibbled slowly; kind of realising that this was all intended to help her calm down.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m surprised you even knew which way I would go from the platform. I mean… the station and the mall seem to run into each other, so there’s no clear way out.”

“The hotels too,” he answered with a shrug. And despite the clear decadence of these cookies, with what tasted like pieces of candied lemon peel, nothing could have been more comforting than the lack of any real judgement from him. He was talking to her like a normal person, even when she’d just emerged from a pretty harsh meltdown. He was a good friend, supportive and willing to listen, and the only negative emotion his words brought was her own guilt about the way she had planned this meeting. “This place runs into the backs of three different hotels, so you can meet up with friends without going outside even if you’re not staying at the same place. Academia’s the big one, though. I stay there every time I’m in the area, so I kind of know my way around here by now.”

“So you knew where I’d be?”

“If you had headed through the concourse or the plaza, you would have seen one of the exits, with other people calling their friends to get a ride somewhere. But on this level, you’d be more likely to get swept along by the crowds and not know where to find me. So I figured waiting in the area would be best, the only path which doesn’t provide a clear, quiet space to stop and call.”

“Thanks,” Imogen said, and nodded. “I really appreciate it. I didn’t mean to make so much trouble, I thought I’d be able to look around a bit and then follow signs for Hotel Academia, but then… I don’t know, I guess things got to me.”

“It’s only natural, in a new place,” he said, and again there wasn’t the faintest trace of judgement. It almost felt wrong, when Imogen compared his openness to some of the plans she had made. “Don’t worry about it. I was already coming over here to pick up some deodorant –” He held up a small bag as if to prove his point. “– So checking for you on the way back is no hassle. Enjoy the chocolate, take a deep breath, and know I’ll be here if you need to talk. There’s no rush. We can get your hotel check-in sorted if you’d rather be alone, or sit back and enjoy the cookies. My favourite are the raisin ones.”

For a moment his hand moved as if he might pat her arm reassuringly, before he seemed to think better of it and reached for his cookie instead, and began to nibble. Everything in his demeanour whispered calm, confidence, and safety. But Imogen thought maybe there was something else there; a nervousness that he was doing his best to hide. Was he worrying about how she was coping before the conference even started? Or was he perhaps nervous because he knew the effect being treated like a child could have on her? He’d ordered hot chocolate and cookies, like she was a kid. That had to mean something, didn’t it? But she knew that anything she read in his behaviour here was probably just wishful thinking. There was no real reason to suspect he saw her as anything more than one of his students.

Imogen nodded and took a sip of her drink. The warmth seemed to carry a wave of calmness with it, and the sweetness was exactly what she needed. Maybe chocolate was the best medicine for this situation after all, although she knew she should start thinking about finding something to eat soon.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Dan asked, as if reading her thoughts. “Besides those cookies? They may be delicious, but they won’t help if you’ve missed lunch. The food here is really good, and it’s the right time of day to get a discount in the post-lunch rush. Or if you want to get checked in, the Academia room service menu is–” Then he paused to give a slightly sheepish laugh. “Sorry, I’m doing it again. My colleagues say I always go into ‘parent mode’ when I see a young woman in trouble. Sorry, I should probably give you space to make your own decisions now you’re feeling calmer. You don’t want me acting like your dad when you’re on holiday.”

“My dad’s nothing like that,” Imogen answered, almost shocked by the contrast. But she knew what he meant, deep down. This was exactly how a father should react, according to some stereotype or other, and it was exactly what she needed right now. If she could just accept it as a sign of kindness, and avoid getting turned on by the attention. “And I don’t mind, thank you. Maybe a little help is just what I need.”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” he said. “No big plans for the day, just relaxing before everything gets hectic. And I want to make sure this weekend goes perfectly. For everyone, really, but especially for you.”

“Thank you,” Imogen mumbled. And then amid her attempts to separate this place from the too-similar situations in many of her fantasies, a question popped up that she had somehow never considered. And she knew it was probably not the best thing to ask, but it was too late to change her mind now. “Are you? A… daddy I mean. You have a lot of parental energy, like I always imagined a dad should be.” And she was getting more nervous as soon as she said it, even before he answered with a soft chuckle.

“No,” he said, and shook his head. “I think if there were kids in my life I wouldn’t have nearly so much time for puzzles. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, but I never thought seriously about it. No, all my experience is… Well, I don’t know where it comes from, but I wouldn’t mind if someone said I have natural dad energy. It’s just how you can see that I care.”

“Right,” Imogen answered quickly, and then found herself blushing. It really could have sounded like she wanted to know if he had a family, like she was thinking of hitting on him. And she was glad that he hadn’t taken it the wrong way, but now she was so embarrassed by her own thoughts and feelings that she couldn’t meet his eyes. She picked up her mug to hide the confusion, and slowly kept on drinking until it was empty. The silence was starting to feel more awkward now, and she didn’t know what she could say to break it.

“Hey, at least I stopped before I broke out the bad puns,” Dan said with a smirk, and all the tension was gone in an instant.

“I like puns,” Imogen answered quickly. That point at least was easy to say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I don’t want to pry, you know? I just realised… it seems weird we’ve known each other so long and never talked about family, or kids, or even relationships. I’d think most of my friends, I get constant updates on the latest love of their life, or they’re two names I always see together. I mean… I’m sorry, it’s kind of personal, I just never realised until now that I don’t think I’ve heard you talk about that stuff.”

“Nothing to talk about,” he said with a shrug; but this time Imogen thought she could see a little more emotion in the gesture. “I’m single, and mostly happy with that. I’ve got a job I enjoy and enough hobbies to keep me busy, and finding someone I mesh with… like that… is pretty unlikely. Not something I think about, or something I talk about. How about you? I mean, you mention your parents sometimes, but otherwise it sounds like you’d rather leave your real-world connections behind most of the time.”

“Y–yeah. I just didn’t… I mean… Yeah, there’s nobody in my life. I’m a voracious consumer of puzzles, and my parents think I’m just trying to fill a void or something. Like some day they’ll tell me about how the big brother of somebody I barely knew in high school is running a butcher’s shop now, or has become a shift manager at Home & Bargain, and I’ll suddenly realise I can just marry him and start making babies instead of all the juvenile, intellectual stuff filling my head.”

“I can’t imagine you’d be satisfied with a puzzle-free life,” Dan said, and that enigmatic smile flashed back again. Could that be a sign he was actually interested on some level? For real?

“No. And those guys never seem to have anything interesting to talk about anyway. I mean…” That was around the point Imogen realised that she was babbling to hide her nerves; maybe even trying to deny to herself how much the situation was getting to her. And she knew that after this conversation, when they had both been talking about him being a daddy, was probably the best chance she would ever get to ask the questions that were really on her mind. She was still scared; but after this morning she realised that she would always be scared faced with a situation like this. She knew that if she didn’t ask she would regret it forever, so she had to push through that fear. But she still didn’t know if she could.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said, and leaned back a little. “Maybe that’s a little too forward of me. I don’t want to push if you’re not comfortable talking about things like that. Your personal life–”

“No!” she gasped, and forced herself to look up at him. “No, you’ve not done anything wrong! It’s just you’ve been so nice, and the things I’ve said, or thought about saying… There’s things I feel bad even for thinking. Especially when that part of you… I mean… that parent mode… it’s so genuine, so comforting, and I want to be able to respect that without thinking…”

“I think I can guess,” he said then, and she could hear the disappointment. She almost wished he would have gotten angry, even aggressive, that would somehow have been better. But like this, it gave the sense she had really hurt him. “You saw the things that Balrog and Peter were accusing me of on the forums, right? That I’m just there to prey on impressionable young geniuses. But please… believe me when I say it’s not like that. I hoped you’d know me better than that by now.”

“That’s not it,” she said. “Well, not the whole thing. I’m not apologising for distrusting you, because I never believed you could be a bad person. But when those rumours started, I hope you remember I was pretty emphatic about defending you. And I never doubted it. It’s just…”

This time, his hand was on hers. Gentle, comforting, just letting her know he was there. And it gave her the courage to continue.

“I’ve thought some really bad things,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “And I want to tell you, because I should have known better. But it’s hard, so please, can you let me explain where those thoughts came from?”

“I’m here to listen,” he said. “I’m not some kind of predator. That was just bad blood, started by a friend of a friend of my ex. I wouldn’t blame you if it’s … If it’s too much to get past. But if you want to talk, I’ll be here to listen, and I promise I won’t judge you.”

“No, it’s not…” she started, and then took a deep breath to steady herself. She picked up the mug again, even though it was empty, just for a moment’s distraction; and was just a little surprised when she realised she had a fresh mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of her. Had Dan been organised enough to request a refill without her noticing?

After another sip, she felt like she was ready to continue.

[Kitty Angel]

Okay, maybe this one isn't a short story now. I was expecting one chapter for the train ride and one for the conversation; but I don't think the tale will grow much more in the telling. So… I'll expect 9-12 chapters total, making it about novella length. Does that seem reasonable?

Does this chapter seem natural to you, and is this how you were expecting it to go?

 

Would Like to Meet

“They were saying all kinds of things about you,” Imogen said slowly, setting the mug down in front of her again. “I had to defend you, because I was sure you’re a good person. But all the acronyms that came out, and the terminology. DDLG, and ABDL, and… Anyway, I couldn’t follow it, so I looked up what some of those things are. And I found… Well, first I found a bunch of sites with people trying to meet a partner, that seemed to be filled entirely with desperate guys. But then I read about what it actually is, and I…” She still choked on the word, but Dan effortlessly filled the silence.

“Niche hookup sites are always like that,” he said. “The fewer people there are in a community, the more online spaces can get dominated by fantasists and the ones who never give up. Maybe there would be good people in there too, but they’re more likely to be in a stable relationship if they’ve been around a while, whereas some people will send out messages to every girl on the site.”

“Yeah,” Imogen nodded again. “But apart from the dating sites, I found out what those abbreviations stand for. And I felt so…” This time, Dan didn’t answer, but looked down at the cookie he was holding like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Could she guess from that how he was feeling? Was he disgusted by the thought of those kinks that people had tried to associate him with? Or was he facing the prospect that she could be shocked by it, which could weaken their friendship whether or not he was actually into it?

“How is it possible to want something so much, when I never even imagined it was a thing?” she finally got the words out. “I mean… once I knew it was a thing, I didn’t understand it at all, but I knew I won’t be able to just forget about it. And I want to know more, to actually have the experience to understand, not just reading words on a page.” She couldn’t stop now, the words came tumbling out once the dam had burst. She kept her gaze down on the table, terrified to see how Dan could be reacting, but she had to say it all once she had started. “I’m sorry. I know you said it’s just a rumour. But I’m scared to talk to people on those sites, I don’t know who I can trust, and I don’t think that can change. But I just kept on hoping, no matter what the odds are, I just kept praying, dreaming, hoping that there might be some grain of truth behind those rumours. Hoping that… that you might actually have an interest in that stuff, and that you might somehow trust me enough, that you could show me the real feelings behind the stories I skimmed. And I know it’s the first time we’ve even met, so this is way too fast, but if it’s not something you’d even consider, then I… I don’t know who else I’d ever want to ask.”

Dan didn’t say anything. His hand squeezed hers gently, but there were still no words. After a long pause, Imogen managed to raise her head. She could see the concern in his eyes, but he was still smiling. She couldn’t read anything more, but she could take that as a positive sign.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ve not been… I spent so long thinking about what I should say, and never thought about anything like this. I just think… You’ve been so supportive, but I have to be honest. So I can tell you. Yes, as soon as I found out about that stuff, and I knew it’s what I want right away. I still didn’t know if you’d understand, if there’s any truth in those rumours, but it was so easy to imagine you as a natural daddy. So I kept on hoping. And… and…” Again, the stress swept over her, and she reached out for a raisin cookie so she would have an excuse for a few minutes of silence.

“Use your words, Immy,” Dan answered, and Imogen’s heart jumped. “I promise, I’m not going to be mad.” They were a simple statement, an encouragement to continue. But more than that, the diminutive form of her name, and a phrasing she was sure she’d seen before when skimming ABDL stories online. Could it be the most subtle confirmation that he was willing to do this?

“Not Immy,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, it’s… The name has negative connotations. In my fantasies, when I tried to imagine you comforting me like this, you always called me Ginny. But thank you. You can’t imagine how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel. Being called a pet name like that, and feeling like somebody actually cares. It means a lot. Especially when…”

She paused. She wanted to tell him the truth, and she knew that she would keep on feeling guilty until she could tell him all of it, but she was almost certain the big confession would cut away his sympathy.

“Okay, Ginny,” he said. “It’s a nice name, and I’m sorry for jumping the gun like that. But maybe you’re a little on edge because you haven’t eaten properly, hmm? Would you like me to sort something out, so you can just think about what you’re saying? Lunch here, perhaps, or I can show you to your room?”

“I… uhh… that would be good,” she answered, and then froze for a moment as a wave of laughter from the next booth rolled over them. “Somewhere… quieter? If that’s okay?”

Dan nodded, and patted her hand. Then he stood and took a half step away from the booth, talking under his breath to a man in a green uniform; maybe a waiter. He lifted Imogen’s bag without asking, and reached for her hand. Her heart was racing again now; it was almost like he was playing along with all her fantasies, the ones she had never even believed could be possible. She took his hand, surprised again by how warm it was, and followed wherever he was going to lead.

Imogen realised she hadn’t properly paid attention to where they were as Dan had led her in there, and glanced around now. She could see people walking along the mall’s white tiles outside glass doors which filled one wall, but the rest of the place was broken up by booths and dividers. Brightly painted wooden panels alternated with intricately carved screens, giving the impression that it was some kind of Mexican/Thai fusion restaurant, with details evocative of both cultures. The lighting was warm and amber, designed to make every corner feel intimate despite the open floor plan.

She instinctively turned towards the obvious exit, but quickly turned back as Dan guided her past the main seating area, up a wide spiral staircase to a mezzanine level, and through a doorway hung with strings of tiny bells that chimed softly as they passed. The courtyard beyond was a stark contrast to the controlled climate inside, with air that was noticeably cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from planters arranged around the perimeter. White stone tiles reflected the afternoon sun, but a canvas awning stretched across most of the space to create dappled shade. There were perhaps a dozen tables out here, surrounded with wrought iron seats painted sage green, but every one of them was empty.

“Better?” Dan asked, leading her to a table in the far corner, tucked against a wall covered in climbing vines. The position gave them a view of the entire courtyard, so no one could approach without being seen, but the angle meant anyone passing by the entrance would only see the back of the awning.

Imogen nodded and sank into the chair, feeling the rough wood of the tabletop under her fingers, and the swirls in the cold metal of the seat pressing through her skirt. The physical details and the change in temperature were helping to make everything feel more real, less like she was still lost in some kind of daydream. Dan settled across from her, somehow managing to arrange himself so he was both relaxed and attentive, and she realized the waiter from before had followed them out, already setting down glasses of water and what looked like a basket of tortilla chips with salsa.

“Take your time,” Dan said quietly, pushing the water glass closer to her. “We've got all afternoon, and no one's going to interrupt us out here. You’ve been very brave admitting something so sensitive, and so easy for most people to misunderstand. I don’t know if I’d ever have the courage to come out to a friend about that, even if I suspected.”

“Thank you,” Imogen stammered, not quite sure how she was supposed to respond. This whole situation was one she had played out in her imagination while she was lying in bed, so many times. But that was the problem. “So you’re…”

“I’ll say that ABDL isn’t my… particular interest,” he said, and gave a little sigh. “But there’s a lot of different niches with some overlap. Sometimes I wonder if putting labels on everything just makes it harder to find someone who might satisfy your needs. I suspect we’ve got more in common with this than most people in this town, and the vast majority of those at the conference. But at the same time, I’m not sure if a friend with a compatible interest is the best recipe for a relationship. Is that something you’ve thought about?”

“I’ve…” Imogen started, and stopped again. Her hope surged up, and down, and up again as he spoke. And his demeanour after she’d made that first confession was enough to convince her that whatever he was into, it was similar enough to be what she wanted even if he called it something different. “I mean I… I really have to tell you everything. But there’s bad things in there, so please, let me say it all before you judge me. And I have to say I’m sorry.”

“Why sorry?” he asked, and that was the hardest question.

“You were the best teacher when we started talking. But at some point I realised that it wasn’t about what you were teaching. Even if you’re talking about some technique that’s completely beyond me, or a puzzle type I don’t really enjoy, I wanted to take part when you’re leading a group chat. And then I realised, at some point, that I’m always happy talking to you, no matter what the subject is. And a day I didn’t see you felt kind of empty. It’s like… I hadn’t even looked at your lecture videos at that point, I didn’t know what you looked like, but there was some kind of attraction there. Something I couldn’t put a name on, even if I had the courage to confess it to you. And I don’t really know what to say, but I know that I want to be near you, in whatever way you’ll have me. And I do find you attractive as well, if that matters. That was before the whole ‘daddy’ thing crossed my mind, but I think in a way I could always sense some kind of paternal energy there. And then… It’s our first meeting, but I already know. I want you to be a part of my life, whatever shape that takes. And I’m hoping, what seemed like against all the odds, that we can try something. Even if it doesn’t work out. It would be easier to go back to being friends if I knew that the real world doesn’t live up to my fantasies, I think. And I know they say you should take it slow, but… But if we try to build this up slowly, see if these emotions are real, then I’d be spending years reaching for an ‘eventually’ that might not live up to my expectations. Whatever happens next, whether we carry on, or go back to square one to build a proper foundation, or if we really are better as friends, I think it would be easier knowing whether or not we’re compatible in that way. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not something to be sorry for,” he said, after only a brief pause. “It’s unorthodox, certainly. Out of the ordinary. But it makes a lot of sense. So, you’d like to have a day or two trying out this dynamic, just to compare it to your imagination and the stories you’ve read online, before we make a real, emotional commitment?”

“If that’s okay,” she said, and glanced down at her hands. “But that’s not what I’m saying sorry for. I really think–” She paused when a jingle and a clatter indicated that someone was coming outside. It was the waiter, pushing a trolley that didn’t quite move smoothly over the tiles. Dan must have ordered for her, before coming outside, and somehow that tiny gesture of supportive control cut through all the nervousness to turn her on again.

The waiter arranged the dishes on their table with practised efficiency. He set a platter of enchiladas in front of Imogen, corn tortillas rolled tight and covered in a vibrant green sauce dotted with crema and probably-cilantro. Dan had an earthenware bowl containing what looked like a curry, containing shredded strips of meat, shrimp, and orange segments. She guessed that the sharp scent of lime and chilies was coming from her plate, cutting through a rich coconut-peanut aroma that made her think of middle-eastern influences from across the table, though she’d never tried this particular combination of cuisines before and it was possible that the types of spiciness she could smell were in just about any combination. Between them, the waiter set a wooden board with grilled peppers, charred slightly at the edges, a smaller basket of warm flour tortillas wrapped in cloth, and a dish filled with steamed rice, one half golden and the other white, and with green specks suggesting a different combination of herbs on each portion. The waiter also poured a glass of white wine for Dan, and waited a second for a nod from Imogen before pouring hers. With everything set out, he murmured something about enjoying the meal and retreated, the bells at the doorway marking his departure.

“Tuck in,” Dan said, quickly unwrapping the napkin around a spoon and fork. “And I promise, I can listen and enjoy my food at the same time.”

“Thanks,” Imogen answered, a little nervously. She nervously tore a piece off one of the tortillas, and rolled it between her fingers while she thought about what she’d been about to say. But the words were still there. “Anyway, I’m kind of… I mean, I need to apologise. Because I visualised a scene like this so many times. Sometimes sweet and wholesome, with you doing everything you could to make me comfortable. And sometimes, something more lewd if I can imagine you taking…”

The words seemed to run out. It wasn’t uncertainty now. She knew exactly how to say what she meant, but she didn’t have the courage. And she felt guilty even for thinking of that. Instead she watched Dan’s hands as he took some rice from the middle of the table to combine with his curry.

“Take advantage of you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Imogen couldn’t answer that. “I’d hope you know me well enough to know I’d never do that without prior consent.” The last two words made all the difference. Now she could be sure there was a possibility there; he was trying to make sure they were on the same page, rather than judging her perversion.

“Sometimes those are the fantasies I’m craving,” she said, then paused to take a bite of her lunch. The sauce was about what she’d expect from salsa verde, tangy with just a hint of heat, but she wasn’t sure what the meat she tasted was. Had they put fish sticks in an enchilada? It sounded like such a weird idea, but it tasted good, so she decided not to judge. “I felt guilty sometimes, but it’s my own… dreams, I guess. Something to think about when I… when it feels right. That’s not essential to me, just being together is more important. But I want you to know that if you ever want to… you know… You have that consent. But that’s not… I mean… there’s still that apology I need to make properly.”

“Nothing you’ve said needs an apology,” he said.

“Yeah, but… I had these scenarios in my mind, and I wanted to make them happen. I spent months wondering if I could like engineer a situation where it’s natural. Put you in a place where I need protecting, see if I can bring out any paternal instincts that are there, just so I can see if that’s something you really want. I thought about all kinds of contrivances, maybe even faking a panic attack or something, being a little one who needs to be saved. In my dreams, that would have been enough to break your self control. I even considered some kind of stupid trick when I set off today, so I could give you the chance and the temptation.”

This time, she really wanted to know what he was feeling. She stopped and watched him eat; an oddly reassuring experience. He took one of the roasted peppers from the middle of the table and used it to scoop up some curry sauce, then gestured with his fork to offer her one. Imogen took one, and somehow felt more confident as the sweet, smoky tang filled her mouth. Maybe some of her nervousness was from hunger after all. She swallowed another bite of the mystery enchilada, and forced herself to speak again.

“Then I got here, and I couldn’t cope. I think a big part of it was guilt over all those plans. I don’t think I would ever have been able to go through with them, but I hate that I even thought like that. And when you were so supportive, I knew. Yes, I’m… attracted to you. And I want to be babied. But more than anything else, I want you to trust me. I want to spend time with you, whether that’s as a friend, a boyfriend, or a daddy. Just being there is more important than what we do with the time. And I don’t want to be the kind of person that would ever lie to you.”

“You don’t need to lie,” he said, setting his spoon to one side now. “And I don’t believe you wanted to. I think… imagining scenarios like that, it’s just a kind of role play. And I’d be happy to play out the scenes you want, so long as I know you’re comfortable with it. If you want to make something up, just make it clear to me that it’s a game. And then I’ll give any role a try. Can you do that?”

“Really?” she gasped, and every instinct wanted to jump over the table to hug him; restrained only by the knowledge that she didn’t have the grace or coordination to jump anywhere without sending delicious food flying. “I mean, yes. I promise. Any time you want, whenever it’s comfortable. So… you’re willing to try it?”

“I want to just say yes,” he said. “It feels natural. But until you try it, you can’t be sure what you’ll enjoy. So maybe one day. An experiment, right? Trying different things, different variations, to see what works for you. And what works for me. I would very much like to have a proper conversation first, but in the moment if there’s something you want to try, you can play the role and I’ll try to react like a good daddy. In case it’s too hard to talk about any specific detail, or you don’t want to break out of the role while we’re playing. Okay?”

“I can do that,” she said, and the blush spread to cover her face now. “So just… roleplay? Act the age I want you to treat me as, and you’ll try to make it work?”

“If that’s easier. But if there’s anything specific you want, or on the more adult side… I think it would be best to talk first, about what works for you, and what you’re comfortable with. A little time discussing fantasies, maybe. Depending on how much you want to be surprised, and how much there are specific things you want to experience. I imagine there could be a lot of conversation there. But if it’s hard to talk about, you can show me. Whichever you are more comfortable with. But I think we should agree from the start that we’ll give this a try for one day. Okay? Let me know when you want to start, but then when the conference kicks off tomorrow afternoon, we’re both adults again. So we can talk about it, and be honest about what we felt.”

Imogen nodded. She could imagine now that he had been planning this conversation in his mind for a long time. Maybe imagining her; or maybe as the things they would need to talk about if he ever met someone who wanted to be his little. But he was saying it to her, and that was the most wonderful thing she had been scared to hope for. And there was still so much to discuss, before they could be sure they were on the same page. They hadn’t really talked about whether this was a sexual thing, or innocent and wholesome, though Imogen was sure she would love it either way. She hadn’t mentioned the hypnosis thing, either. And they hadn’t talked about whether she was comfortable being gently guided, indulged, or punished if there was some fantasy scene where she couldn’t be a good girl for daddy. But despite all those things they needed to talk about, they’d crossed the most important hurdle. In a way, the rest was just fine-tuning the details.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” she said, and focused on dragging corn chips over the last few smears of sauce on her plate. The enchiladas had disappeared with her barely paying them any attention; and she felt a lot more confident now that she was properly fed. “And then one day of play, before we do the big conversation. That sounds perfect. Thank you, Da– Can I call you Daddy? That’s the term, right?”

“I’ll be your Daddy,” he said with a smile. “And it warms my heart to hear you say that. Today and tonight, I’m your Daddy. And today you’re my baby doll. My little Ginny, who I can shower with all the love a Daddy shares. Thank you.”

As soon as he said the words, it was like flipping a switch. He wasn’t Dan now, he was Daddy, the most important person in the world. Imogen felt overwhelmed again, this time by just how important it seemed to please her Daddy. And in all of her fantasies and dreams, she had never imagined that the wave of warmth and comfort rushing over her body could feel so perfect.

[WBDaddy]

3 hours ago, Kitty Angel said:

So… I'll expect 9-12 chapters total, making it about novella length. Does that seem reasonable?

Let it run however long it runs, just don't make the mistake of blowing past a clean ending.  I did that once, and I regretted it.  

[Kitty Angel]

Thanks

I could have ended it there; but think there's enough meat to continue a little further. Still, hope I'm not going to disappoint anyone when it actually ends (as I'm sure there will be at least one reader who just want to see an epilogue which feels like an anticlimax to me).

 

 

Umm, Daddy?

The comfort and warmth hit first, spreading through Imogen’s body before her mind could catch up. She could be a good girl for daddy, and have all her dreams come true. My Baby Doll. The words she’d heard a hundred times over the last six months, but barely remembered. Drummed into her mind by hypnotic recordings that she hadn’t even been sure would work. She hadn’t mentioned them to Daddy yet, because she’d been too scared of the disappointment if it was too easy to resist.

But as the first spurt of pee escaped into her underwear, she knew there was no chance of that. There was no reason to wonder how hard resistance would be, because fighting the sudden urges sounded as plausible as willing her heart to stop beating. Hypnosis worked; she had all the proof needed, and a certainty that mixed with the thrill of helplessness spreading through her body. She wondered for a moment what Daddy would think, because he didn’t even know about the hypnosis. Would this be a big surprise to him? But a second spurt and the warmth spreading across her thighs reminded her that she was too little to be thinking about anything like that, too young to consider resisting. The choice wasn’t hers, and Daddy would make everything better again.

Those first leaks quickly turned into a torrent, running across her thighs and dripping through the latticework of the seat beneath her. And at the same time her eyes widened, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of feeling that loss of control, and she let out a brief moan. Blushes colonised her face and chest now, a second pool of warmth, and there was no way she could have suppressed the grin on her face.

“Daddy, I…” she mumbled, but the words crumbled into a scatter of excited giggles. She was wetting herself in a restaurant courtyard, and she knew she should have felt guilty, but she didn’t need to think about that now. She didn’t need to think about anything, just to do what Daddy said.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and then after the briefest fraction of a second he added “Ginny?”

“I umm…” she was breathing heavily now, not quite sure why she was so excited. It took an effort to even know what was happening. She’d lost control, and that felt so good. Better than anything she’d done with her friends, that was for sure, and better than playing with toys on her own. But she couldn’t talk about that now, she couldn’t even keep her mind on those thoughts for long enough to fully understand them, because she needed to be good for Daddy.

“I sorry?” she tried.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If you want to feel small, I’m here for you. Just let Daddy take care of…” his eyes darted down for a second, and Ginny’s eyes followed. Against the white stone on the floor, it was hard to miss the darker outline of a puddle spreading around her chair. “… anything you need. Did you have a little accident, sweetie? Maybe you’re even littler than I thought. Does that mean you’re cuter too?”

Ginny smiled, the praise filling her with pride, and then managed to nod in response.

“Good girl. Now, it looks like your plate is almost empty. So would you like to go somewhere we can get you cleaned up now? Or is there anything else you want to finish?”

Ginny just looked up at him, waiting for an instruction she could follow. She wanted to tell him how good she felt, or that she’d never expected how much fun this could really be, but those words were too big for her now. It wasn’t quite what she had expected; she wasn’t seeing herself as a little baby, not really. She still knew she was a grown-up, but the big thoughts slipped between her fingers when she tried to grasp them, and she knew that everything she said and did had to fit with her role as Daddy’s perfect baby doll. She was trapped in that role, while her thoughts were just big enough to feel how much she liked that feeling.

“You done with your food, sweetie?” he asked. “Ready to go get changed?” This time, she managed to nod, and started to stand up. She was surprised to find herself wobbling slightly as she got to her feet, which was a constant reminder of how small she was supposed to be.

She looked down at herself, and wasn’t surprised to see that there was a small damp patch on her skirt. And she could feel from the damp fabric against her skin that the back was so much worse. She blushed furiously, sure that someone would see it as soon as they went anywhere. But what could she do about that? It would be kind of weird to open up her suitcase and go rooting for new clothes here, and there probably wasn’t a private space where she could change. The toilets would be too small to get her case inside, she was sure. But then she remembered that she was only little. She didn’t need to worry, because Daddy would make everything better.

“Good girl,” Daddy said. “Now, just stand there for a minute, okay?”

He took her coat from the back of her chair, and wrapped it around her waist with the sleeves tied together. She was sure she’d worn a coat like that many times when she was younger, and if she saw someone else like that her first thought was that they’d realised too late that it was too warm for a coat, and didn’t have space in their bag to pack it away. And maybe, if she was lucky, the shadows that the knotted sleeves cast on her skirt would be enough to disguise the wet patch. She’d been right; Daddy was really clever, and he could solve anything for her.

He lifted up the water jug from the table, and carefully poured water and ice cubes onto the ground. The puddle around Ginny’s seat spread a little, which seemed kind of funny, but it didn’t get far before the water started disappearing between the tiles. Then Daddy poured more water onto the table, where it dripped down. He left one slice of lemon on the floor, while putting two more back into the empty water jug. And then he slung one bag over each shoulder and reached for her hand.

“We had a little spill,” he said to the waiter as they reentered the restaurant; while Ginny was marvelling at how much difference it made when Daddy took her hand. With his hand in hers, she could walk almost like a big girl, but she’d felt how unsteady she was for long enough to know that walking without support wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

“That’s no problem, Sir,” the waiter answered, with a little bow of his head. “Are you staying for dessert?”

“I think I’d better get this little one checked into her hotel,” Daddy answered with a genuine smile. “But we’ll be back tomorrow, so I can show her your coconut rice pudding tacos.”

They hurried back through the restaurant, and out into the mall. There were shops in every direction, and the building was like a maze, but holding Daddy’s hand made Imogen feel like there was nothing to worry about. He could make her feel safe now, and she couldn’t stop her heart racing with excitement, every time she realised how real this fantasy was now; and how helpless she felt. She strode along beside him, smiling broadly, and she didn’t even start to wonder where they were going until she saw a familiar sign tucked into a niche between two high-fashion clothing retailers. The sign was black and silver, with a style that made it clear the corporation had decided on a popular aesthetic during the height of the ‘90s goth boom, and not changed it since.

Drũgstør had initially become popular as the go-to place on the high street for hair dye in exotic colours, and exotic piercings. But they had all the usual pharmacy stuff as well. Like… like a thought that slipped out of Imogen’s mind like water as soon as she realised she wasn’t supposed to be old enough to even know what those things were. And like diapers, which was probably more relevant right now. She blushed again, and wondered which of those things Daddy would head towards. He was surely big enough to think about the grown-up stuff, wasn’t he? She knew she could trust him to be sensible, even if she was a little vague on why it was so important.

They walked across the characteristic black tiled floor that graced every Drũgstør across the country, between shelves filled with all kinds of skin creams and hair products. Of course, Imogen’s eyes were immediately caught by bottles of skin moisturising spray with glitter; maybe a new trend or just something she’d never happened to see before. But it looked so pretty and so exciting. She reached up and lifted a sampler down from the shelf, only to be overtaken by another wave of blushes as the bottle in her hand clashed with the one next to it, sending a cascade of products onto the floor.

“Whoa, hey, let’s leave those for the shelf, shall we?” Daddy… Dan… Daddiel was there in an instant, one hand gently guiding hers back to her side while the other started scooping bottles off the floor with practised ease, setting them back in place without any fuss. He didn’t look annoyed, not even a little bit. Just calm, and warm, and slightly amused in a way that made Ginny want to giggle. “I guess you’re an age where you love to touch things. But we shouldn’t make problems for anyone else out of this. That’s my big rule. You can look, but we use our gentle hands in the shop, remember? Can you do that for me?”

Ginny nodded seriously, and pressed her lips together in concentration as they moved on. She managed three whole steps before a display of bath bombs caught her eye. Towers of bright colours and swirling patterns seemed to reach up to the sky, some of them shaped like animals. She reached out one finger to touch the one that looked like a duck, just to see if it was as soft as it looked, and felt Daddy's hand close loosely around hers. Not pulling her away, just holding. She reminded herself that they were trying not to make a mess, even if she wasn’t quite in control of her own actions. The knowledge that she couldn’t resist the childish urges made her heart beat faster; it felt so good, but not quite as good as knowing that Daddy was in control. She glanced up, and the look in his eyes put her in her place instantly. A quiet reminder that she could look at things without picking them up, and that he wasn’t going to put up with any more messing around like this.

For a moment, she found herself thinking about what he might do if she misbehaved, and somehow even looking forward to any hypothetical punishment. But she had just enough adult thoughts left to remember that she was supposed to be good for Daddiel.

There was nothing else she couldn’t resist touching before they reached the back of the store, where there was a whole row of shelves with a sign declaring ‘intimate products’. Ginny looked up at it, and she was sure that she knew what the word meant; but the thoughts melted into the mist as soon as she tried to focus on them. But before she could ask Daddiel to help her understand, he turned to the right. He didn’t pull hard, but she couldn’t stop following where he led. And there, a shelf almost as large as the intimate section held diapers.

Daddy didn’t hesitate for long. He held up a bag of SleepSafe Allnights, as if trying to guess whether they would fit her. And Ginny knew that she needed to get this over with as quickly as possible if she didn’t want anyone else to know about her little accident. If they even talked about what they were buying, anyone who overheard would know what had happened. And as much as she got a thrill from knowing that the choice wasn’t hers, Ginny found that she didn’t want anyone else to think of her like that. Just her Daddy. Her Dan. Whatever name it felt right to call him.

“Do you think these will fit you, little one?” he asked, and she was sure that she was blushing crimson. She couldn’t find her words now, and she hoped that he wouldn’t ask, but she could manage a nod. Those diapers were for bigger girls who might have an accident overnight sometimes, and she was quite small for her age, so there was a good chance they would fit. And right now, fitting was all that mattered. There was no way she could find actual diapers in her size in the middle of a vacation town like this. Why did that thought even come to her mind, and why did it feel like something she should regret?

Ginny was feeling now like she didn’t understand her own feelings quite as much as she had thought. So she was in a daze as Daddiel completed his purchase and walked her out of the store, a clearly visible pack of diapers at the top of his shopping bag. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to take her back to the hotel; and all the other questions that could lead to. Was she going to end up sleeping in a crib in Daddy’s room? The idea made her cheeks flush again, but she didn’t think the hotel would let them do anything weird like that; and her thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected stop as Daddy opened the door to a large family restroom lined with blue and white tiles.

[Kitty Angel]

Your Choice

Imogen looked around the small room, and her nerves made themselves felt for just a moment. Since Daddy had rescued her, the whole day had seemed like a dream. From lunch to walking through the mall, it was like something out of one of her late-night fantasies; but now it was moving into something different. This was a restroom; a little larger than most she had seen, but it was still a private space. And before her thoughts drifted back to the trusting excitement she expected for a small child, she wondered if this was something she should have thought about more critically before she had even considered manipulating her way into this kind of situation.

There was a toilet in the corner, and a sink on one wall. There were shiny tiles all around them, and a long countertop with a built-on changing table. Everything a parent would need with a troublesome child. Somewhere in the back of Ginny’s mind, she was still excited and nervous, knowing that this should be a common situation for a kid her age but also knowing that she’d never done this before. And she knew that this was the moment when everything changed.

“Can you look after yourself?” Daddy asked. “I don’t want to invade your privacy, but… I don’t know what’s best here. I don’t want to touch you until you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Imogen looked up at him, sure she was bright red like a traffic light now. She didn’t know how to answer; that was too much of a grown up thought.

“Do you want me to diaper you?” he said. “Or can you be a big girl?”

On some level she knew that those words were special. But it was a question, not a statement, so she let those thoughts drift past and just looked at Daddy. Nothing mattered more than being good for him right now. She nodded, slowly, and she wasn’t quite sure what she was asking for.

“Okay, sweetie,” he said. “I’m sure you know best. Now, can you take those soggy clothes off by yourself?”

Ginny nodded, and tried to unfasten her skirt. But if she was a little kid, her fingers would fumble at the waistband, not quite managing to unfasten the buttons. She needed Daddy to help her, and she knew that.

“Daddy?” she asked. “I umm… I don’t… Can you…?”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Let Daddy do it.” He knelt down in front of her, and unfastened her skirt like it was the easiest thing in the world. Then he asked her to sit down on a little step at one side of the room, decorated in the same blue and white tiles as the floor and walls. And when she raised her feet one by one he could easily unbuckle her shoes and peel off sodden socks. He moved like he knew exactly what he was doing, although he kept on staring down at her feet like he didn’t really want to look at her. Imogen knew that she knew why he was doing that, but she also knew that she was supposed to be too little to understand, so she couldn’t reach those thoughts right now.

“Now,” he said. “Underwear. Can you do that by yourself? Do you want me to look away?”

“I…” she mumbled. She could feel the anxiety that was filling her mind over such a simple task, even if the reason it mattered so much kept slipping away from her. Those feelings were too big to simply forget. She knew that she should probably be able to do everything by herself, and that she probably should; but she was also kind of aware of how long she’d hoped for the chance to be completely helpless; needing Daddy to do everything for her. And she knew that even if she should be able to look after herself, she couldn’t do it right now. She wasn’t allowed to do big girl things. “I dunno how. I’m too little.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Dan took this detail in his stride, just like everything up to this point. “Now, do you have spare clothes with you? Because I think you’re going to need a change. Is there anything in your bag, or do we need to open your suitcase?”

Imogen wanted to answer that. She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t thought ahead that far, because she wasn’t even expecting this to happen. And on a different level, she wanted to tell Dan that she had some spare clothes in case she spilled something or slipped in a puddle. But that was yet another big girl thing, that the unexpected sentry sitting at the back of her mind wouldn’t allow her to mention. She had to keep on being helpless, just like a real baby. She reached out for her backpack, where she was sure she had a change of clothes hidden in an inside pocket, and fumbled clumsily with the zipper.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Daddy said, and she knew that she didn’t need to think. She could let him take care of everything. “Let’s see about getting you out of those wet clothes first. Okay?” He reached out and a jolt went through her body as his hands rested on her bare hips for a moment. She didn’t know if it was because he was taking her underwear off; the powerful presence he carried with him, or just her thrill at all the things she had been looking forward today – things that she couldn’t even remember right now – but something told her that this was the most important moment of her life so far. She found herself automatically raising her hands to cover her blushes, but by now the red aura had probably spread well beyond her face. She felt like she should be standing in a cloud of pink mist, and that was the most wonderful feeling she could imagine.

She barely noticed as Daddy peeled off her underwear and turned away. She was half naked now, just another way to highlight the embarrassment of a girl who had done a weewee in her undies like a little baby.

“Okay, now, can you step here for me?” Daddy asked, and she realised that he had spread out a towel on the floor. She hadn’t even noticed what he was doing, she was so caught up in her own delicious humiliation. Or maybe Lady Larsen’s words had made every little detail feel like a complete surprise; she couldn’t be sure.

She stepped onto the towel. Daddy wiped her legs down with cleaning wipes, and then dried them off with the towel so she wouldn’t smell like pee at all. And then he signalled for her to step forward again. Into a pull-up, which he was holding out flat for her with the leg holes the right way around. She kind of wished that he’d been able to do this himself, so she didn’t need to move; but she knew that she had to do what Daddy wanted. So she stepped into the nighttime diaper, and then covered her eyes again as if that would keep her from noticing as he pulled the soft padding up her legs. A second later he was tapping her heels, urging her to take another step, and then he was pulling up a pair of leggings as well.

Ginny giggled and did a twirl when he was finished. It felt strange to be wearing a diaper at last, after so many months wondering what it would be like. But it just felt like thick, soft underwear. It wasn’t nearly as unusual as she had thought, although that didn’t reduce the embarrassment at all. And she knew that it was exactly what she needed to feel.

Finally, Daddy put her coat around her waist again. And as he turned to fasten up her suitcase, she realised that he’d had to go through all her things to find some clean clothes. But that was all okay. Daddy knew best, and she would do whatever he wanted her to do.

“Come on, Ginny,” he said. “Let’s get you to the hotel now. Okay? Or would you rather have a look at some of the amazing things they’ve got around here?”

“I gotta…” she mumbled, but she didn’t know what she had to do except be a good girl. “I dunno. I gotta be good for Daddy.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “Come on then, let’s show you where you’re going to be sleeping this weekend. I don’t know if you asked for a crib, but I’m sure we can get you one if we ask nicely.”

“Yaaaay!” Ginny giggled, and followed eagerly as Daddy led her out into the mall again.