Candyland

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Candyland
Date Published: January 31, 2021, 9:07am
Written By: finity_furaf_user

Short description:
A game of pretend goes horribly wrong.
Chapter 1:
“Can we haf’ a tea pardy Bea,pl-ease?” said Candy, tugging on my arm.
I turned to look down at her and smirked. “Well, okay, but after lunch.” Truth be told, it didn’t sound like a chore. Most 23 year olds probably wouldn’t be that interested in tea parties, but during the months I babysat Candice, I started to actually enjoy playing with her. I knew that she must have been very lonely living with her mother in the middle of nowhere, so I initially started playing her games out of sympathy. She would play along with all the games that I proposed, but it always felt like she was just simulating enjoyment—like she was the one humoring me. But something would change when I would agree to play by her rules. All her games were based in pretend; she would use all the toys at her disposal to create fun, funny and sometimes even dramatic or tragic tales—and, more often than not, I found myself lost in the stories she would weave with her dolls and stuffed animals, so much so that I would need to be reminded of reality when Ms. Ive came home. The complexity of some of her narratives would always wow me after the fact, regardless of their source.
My contemplation was cut short when I felt her grip under my elbow again.
She pouted. “But if we do d’at we won’ haf any room for tea!”
I gave a fake sigh. “Okay, fine. I won’t make much, so we will have plenty of room for tea. Are you happy now?”
Candy grinned. “Yay! I’ll ge’ i’ all sedup!” she smiled as scurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
I smiled as I watched her run and heard the pitter-patter of her feet on the stairs. I went back to preparing lunch, chopping the tomatoes and slicing the ham for our sandwich. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but all the famous chefs say that good food is all about good ingredients, and I guess Candice’s mother stuck by that rule too.
I opened the cupboard to look for the bread loaf, but I frowned when I read realized that there were only three regular slices and a heel left. I took them all out, placing the tailings on my plate and the good pieces on Candice’s. I squirted a grill of mustard on each piece, placed some tomatoes and spinach, and followed it with some cheese and ham. I folded up the sandwiches and sliced the one without the heel. I held the knife above mine, deeply contemplating whether or not I wanted to slice my own. I scoffed once I realized how much thought I was putting into a sandwich, and smiled at the fact that my life was mundane enough to only be worrying about how I wanted lunch prepared, even as simple as the lunch was. In the end, I decided to cut the sandwich just like Candice’s.
I delivered the sandwiches to the table, and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Lunch is ready!”
I heard rustling and saw Candy walk out the door, having changed her apparel. It was blue dress, one that I recognized from a previous session of dress-up. Candy nearly tumbled her way down, going as fast as she could.
“Woah there!” I called out, ready to catch her.
She made it to the bottom without incident, and I followed her to the kitchen table.
She took her seat in front of her food, and looked absolutely gleeful as she mauled it. I took my seat, calmly grabbing my own, and watched her. I felt like I was constantly amazed by that girl; she was the fastest learner I had watched as my, albeit short, career as a babysitter, and she knew way more words and facts about the world than I did at her age. While I was watching her, I was marveling at her palette in particular. Most of the children I sat before would balk in disgust at such a spartan, unsweetened meal; they would throw a tantrum if they encountered anything besides mac n’ cheese or a PB&J. I know that I for one was a far more picky eater at her age.
At first, I would just prepare for her the usual “little kid food”, having enough negative experiences with spoiled children to know that they didn’t like being taken out of their comfort zones. But every time I did, she would always asked if I would share whatever I happened to be having, and so one day I just decided to ask her what she wanted. She just said “I like y’ur food, Bea” and so I shrugged, granting her wish ever since.
In almost no time at all, Candy was done, and looked at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes as I was pulled back to reality. I scarfed down the rest of my portion and grabbed our plates to throw them in the trash.
As I walked back over to the table, Candy shot up and grabbed my hand with both of hers, pulling me to and up the stairs and finally into her playroom. The room was well loved; there were playthings littering every corner, from crayons to dominoes to dolls to whatever. In the center of the room was a low, round table encircled by three stuffed animals wearing doll clothes: a Zebra wearing a comedic, green tutu; an Otter wearing a denim skirt and vest over a plain, dark shirt, and a tiger wearing baggy, dark clothes. We headed in the direction of the closet to the right of the table where a large, disorganized pile of clothes lie. “We godda get you a nice dress! You can’d go to a tea pardy wif’out a fancy dress!”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t hate dress-up—far from it—but finding costume pieces that would work with the theme and setting was always a hassle. I followed her over to the closet where she kept her hoard. It felt like it was constantly growing every time I came into to play with Candy, which was quite frequently, I realized.
She bent over, scouring the pile, looking this way and that, the ruffles on her petticoat sending her dress into the sky. I giggled. “Not very lady-like of you with you showing off your underwear like that.” But then I realized something: she was wearing one of her old pull-ups from her potty training days. I blushed when I noticed it, wanting to avert my gaze away.
“What?” she asked indignantly, standing up with her arms to her hips.
“Uh, Candy, why are you wearing a—” I almost manged to finish, my cheeks still flushed.
“A diaper?” she asked dismissively, cutting me off. She sighed. “I guess I need do dell you d’is before we go,” she said, letting her hands fall down to her sides.
I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say. It was rather extreme, but I knew that some parents would put their children in training pants again if they had too many accidents. I was still shocked, as I hadn’t expected that from Ms. Ive. Still, I wondered why she had neglected to write a note. It didn’t matter, though, because I could tell that Candy was sad, and I wanted to try and make her feel a little better. “It’s oka—” I started.
She just walked over me in the conversation. “Da ding is, Emmy had a bad docdor.”
I just continued to look at her, thinking about what she was saying.Emily? That doesn’t sound good…, I continued, the image of Emily, her stuffed tiger, popped into mind. Candice had given all her characters such deep personality, that sometimes I forgot I was thinking about toys. I tried reminding myself, and it worked for a moment. “Oh?” I asked, trying my hardest to merely feign interest instead of becoming engrossed.
Candy nodded. “She had a bad docdor for some surgy, and now she’s in-condimend. But like I said the docdor was bad and der was a problem which made her in-condinend.”
I was briefly taken aback.Incontinent? Where did she learn that word?I thought, before remembering the show about healthcare disasters I was watching weeks ago after she had went to sleep. But apparently she hadn’t been sleeping. And then I was pulled back in.
“Emmy hasn’d been ou’ in a long time because she’s embarsed she hasta wear diapers now. So me an Zoe and Claire d’ough’ d’at we could cheer her up if we wore diapers 'oo.”
“I haven’t seen Emmy in a while… why didn’t you tell me where she was? Now I feel bad,” I replied sincerely, already lost in the fantasy again.
“Its ok. Me 'n Zoe didn’d know where she was eit’er, but she ‘old us wha’ happned, and den Zoe said we should haf a tea pardy to cheer her up.”
“That makes sense. Emmy loves tea parties.” Truth be told, I didn’t like Emily very much; she always had something snarky to say when it came to me. But I didn’t want her to have a botched surgery. Fate was cruel, sometimes. When I realized I was starting to slip again, I needed to remind myself,just toys.
“Ya, so we godda—Oh no!” she exclaimed, making me nervous. “Da pardy is soon. We can’d be la’e, dat would make Emmy feel efen worse!”
I frowned. Even though Emily and I weren’t close by any measure, I didn’t want kick her while she was down by rudely missing our outing. I watched as Candy rummaged through the pile, but a piece of fabric caught my eye. It was a pink sleeve, which, ordinarily, considering I was in a thrift shop—I mean, the playroom of a little girl, wouldn’t have been too consequential. However, I could tell this item was much larger than many of the others.
All of the items were from the bargain bin at the local clothing store. Ms. Ive would usually wait till the end of the month and take out the “scraps” at the bottom for cheap; it working in her favor, because most of them were ugly children’s clothes, and occasionally—as in, once every year in November—Halloween costumes of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t even close to Halloween, though, so I wondered how this one slipped through the cracks.
I pulled it out, and to both the shock of me and Candy, the dress was big. I smiled, thinking about how wonderful it would be if it fit me. No more stretched petticoats for me, but an actual dress!
“Twy i’ on!” Candy egged me on.
I obliged, quickly slipping off my top and bringing the dress over my head. I was amazed: it fit like a glove. And not poorly fitted glove, either. I could feel myself really filling it out; even my bosom was properly situated without any effort on my part, much to my elation. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I was absolutely giddy. The dress was a medium shade of pink, which suited my light complexion. It had nice looking floral embroidery along the sides and front, and towards the midsection, larges ruffles started emanating out over the in-lined petticoat. It was remarkably similar to Candice’s indigo dress, sans the embroidery, and our colors complemented each other well.I look so pretty!I thought, smiling. I twirled and giggled, letting the hem of the dress float up.
“Wow, Bea, you look so good!” She confirmed, giving me a genuine but quick compliment, before going back to rummage in pile.
I looked around. At some point, we had arrived at the back of a near empty thrift shop. A massive pile of clothes sat under a sign near the ceiling, reading “All stack items free.” The change of scenery had happened some time ago, but, as usual, I was lost in the fervor of whatever I was doing at the time: in that case searching for my dress.
All too quickly, she pulled out a large, colorful rounded rectangle consisting of shiny, fluffy material. I didn’t think anything of it, until she pushed it into my hands. I blushed, recognizing it as a disposable diaper. I was brought back to the reality of the playroom as it entered my grasp. The item was making me go through mental gymnastics, trying to figure out what was going on; the size made it absolutely clear it was big enough to fit someone like me, but the cutesy designs made it absolutely clear that it was for someone much younger.
I was temporarily stunned, until Candy snatched it out of my hand, growing impatient. “Here, I’ll ge’ you s’ar’ed,” she said, unfolding it. “We don’ haf’ a lodd’a time, so you godd’a put i’ fas’, cuz Zoe 'n Emmy ‘n Claire are wai’in’.”
I nodded, remembering how good of friends me and Zoe were. I was happy to see her again, so I got to work, sliding my pants down my legs. Wearing diapers was beyond embarrassing, so I knew how Emily felt. If Candy thought that it would help her, then I would try to show my support, even if we were found ourselves at odds on occasion. But there was no way I was really going to wear the diaper like an infant, I reasoned. I could just put it over my panties, and Emily wouldn’t know the difference; it seemed like a bit of a stretch to debase myself that much for her.
I placed the diaper between my thighs, and began to wrap it up around me.
“Y’ur no’ gonna take off y’ur unda’wea’?” Candy asked skeptically.
“Of course not, I’m not a baby,” I replied, slightly offended by the question.
“I know, bu’ Emmy isn’ one too,” She answered back reasonably.
I frowned. “But I really don’t want to… It’s so embarrassing!” I raised my voice in concern.
“Shh!” Candy hushed me quietly. “You don’ wan’ someone to hear you. How do you f’ink Emmy wou’d fee’wul?”
“But…” I protested. Meanwhile, without noticing, the thrift store came back into focus as my mind was being convinced of the pretend.
She rolled her eyes as if I was a belligerent child. “Fine. I won’ make you. Bu’ do i’ quick, cuz we need’a go.”
“Yay,” I whispered upon victory. I went to finish taping up the diaper, but the plumage around my groin and butt made it difficult. After only one failed attempt, however, I managed to stick the tapes and adjusted the garment. It was surprisingly snug and comfy, and it created a nice soft, warm halo that felt entirely different from the form-fitting panties that I could easily forget were there.
I looked in the mirror to the left of the mound of clothes, reveling in my new attire as I pinched the hem of my dress. The diaper had, as I stated before, extremely juvenile designs of rainbows, butterflies, birds and flowers; maybe there were more on the back, but I was too lazy to look. My emotions toward it were complex to say the least. The dress was pretty and mature-enough in isolation, but the infantile aspects were amplified by my current set of underwear; I looked like a toddler attending an imaginary tea party, in short, and while my pride was marred, a part of my strange brain found the getup unusually endearing.
I realized later that the diapers were diapers for adults designed to look they were for babies. Ms. Ive had been sent them as a gift from one of her cousins as a baby shower gift several years ago, and neither me nor Ms. Ive could tell if it was supposed to be a very strange joke or a very strange mistake. Either way, Ms. Ive had just kept them around in the dark corner of the playroom closet, unsure of who she could award them to and her guilt preventing her from discarding them altogether.
My mood suddenly soured as I had a brief moment of lucidity. I dropped the my skirt, feeling especially self conscious about the fact that I was a 23 year old woman attending a pretend tea party in a diaper.I’m doing this for Candice,I tried reassuring myself.
“You done? We need’a go!” Candy said grabbing my hand. “Zoe n’ Claire are already d’ere!”
I was brought back into the moment, and time seemed to slow down as we walked over to the small table not 10 feet away. As I slipped more into the role of Bea, Candice’s friend, the table was occluded by the walls of the second hand store. We passed the bored looking dog cashier as we exited, and the aforementioned table came into view again, looking more and more like one table among many on a street outside an upscale cafe in some bustling city.Oh no, I can’t be late and do that to Zoe.I worried.You know, there’s no way I would do this for Emmy alone, no matter how much I like tea. She can be such a jerk…my mind wandered as I was dragged along to the luncheon.But she’s going to be hard-pressed to find anything mean to say today. Look who’s got the nice dress now!I smirked, imagining the frown on her face when she was unable to snark.
“Hi eferyone, we’re here!” Candice said gleefully to the round table.
All our friends were there, including Zoe and Claire and of course Emmy. They all greeted us individually, complimenting our dresses as we sat down. I sat between to Zoe and Claire, and Candy sat across from me, between Claire and Emmy.
“You guys look great. Wow, Bea, that dress works so well on you. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before,” said Zoe the Zebra. She was wearing a fluffy, green tutu, and you could easily distinguish her diaper under the burly cone.
I responded, flattered. “Thanks, Zoe. You look really good too! And yeah, I just got this dress with Candy,” I said, eagerly pointing towards the girl sitting across from me.
Claire the Otter looked to me, and also gave me some words of encouragement. “Dang, girl, you look great. Clothes reallydomake the woman!” Then she turned to Candy, offering her a review as well. “And you’re as stunning as ever, Candy. I think it’s pretty clear who picked out Bea’s dress.”
We sat in silence, sipping our teas—evidently the waiter had gotten there before us—until Candy noticed something was amiss. “Hey, Emmy. How are you? Is somed’in’ on y’ur mind?” she asked sincerely.
Emmy was silently looking down for a moment until she turned her head up and saw us expectantly waiting for an answer. Everyone looked concerned except me; I didn’t want it admit to, but my negative image of Emmy was seeping into my demeanor. Emily the Tiger spoke, trying to ease the other girl’s fears. “Yeah, I’m doing okay. Sorry girls, I’m just… thinking.”
I furrowed my brow in concern. Normally Emmy was brash, pessimistic, and slightly toxic; I like to think I was an upbeat person, and so our personalities would clash, and it would often end in petty quips before our mutual friends would change the topic. Just like last month at the ice rink: Emmy made such a nasty, simple comment about my skating that I was about to flip. It was such a stupid joke, but she said it with such vitriol that it just pushed me over the edge. I had just fallen on my butt, and she decided to say “Have a nicetrip, see you nextfall.” It was possibly the dumbest joke I had ever heard, but I nearly busted a fuse. “What is your problem?!” I shouted at her. It didn’t take long before Zoe and Candy broke up the fight. I never forgot that day and I might not for quite some time.
Still, this new mood of Emmy’s made me uneasy. She looked so much different from her usual, self-assured and smug self. All I could do was feel bad; after all, I wasn’t one for schadenfreude.
“Oh, I see what they were saying… That dress looks… really good, Beatrice,” Emmy piped out, utterly defeated sounding.
I blushed profusely. Something about being reluctantly but sincerely complemented by your enemy was very unconformable.
Everyone else smiled, Claire returning to the conversation she was having with herself before me and Candy arrived. “So as I was telling them,” she said, pointing to Zoe and Emmy, the latter still looking deeply perturbed, “There is this seriously cute ox at work… but he’s totally oblivious!” she said, throwing her hands up. “I don’t know how I can get him to notice me. I tried lifting my tail when he walks by, leaning up against the wall—OH! I have to tell you this hilarious story. So I was leaning up against the wall of a cubicle, and I thought they were supposed to make those things sturdy, you know?”
I nodded, grabbing a spoonful of sugar and mixing it into my tea, finally idly sipping the sweetened drink, just enjoying listening to Claire ramble on about nothing. It seemed like everyone else, even Emmy with her faint smile, was doing the same.
“So, the thing completely broke! I mean, it was bad! It was one of those corner offices, so, for some reason, that made it even worse! The poor guy in there screamed bloody freakin’ murder when his thing landed on him!” Claire laughed heartily, lightly pounding the table with her paws
We all smiled and sipped our tea.
I was about to add to the conversation, but Candy spoke up, cutting me off for the umpteenth time that day. She asked Zoe about her boyfriend, but I zoned out, a little annoyed. I shifted in my seat, rolling my eyes, but my cheeks flared up when I both felt and heard my very crinkly diaper.I wish Candy had told me about this earlier, so I could of gotten a different diaper.I saddened at my next thought.I can’t even imagine how Emmy feels right now.It felt nice to not be ridiculed by Emmy, but the state she was in felt wrong.
“…don’t want to think about that right now,” Zoe retorted. “Sorry, but I’m over him and his stupid sister. If he’s defending her overthat, then what kind of other stuff is he doing behind my back? I mean, okay, a shirt is totally whatever. I don’t care. A bra? That’s kind of iffy. But underwear? And he just let herput it back without washing?” Zoe widened her eyes in question for emphasis.
“I dunno, maybe d’ats normal w’ere d’ey grews up. Mommy say’s d’at some people are okay wid’ sharing undies, bu’ no’ her!” Candy offered, trying to play devil’s advocate.
Zoe sighed. “But he shouldknowthat I’m not. Right? I’m not crazy to think that if you’ve been dating someone for a year, they should know your bounds when it comes to stuff like that.”
I huffed, having been caught up in the conversation enough. “I think your right, Zoe, that’s gross.”
“Thank you!” Zoe said with exasperation.
“Oh my gosh, that reminds of the time I dated a guy with giant ear gauges, and I mean these things were—” Claire started before being cutoff from another voice behind me.
I turned around, and I saw that it was waiter dressed in all black. I could make out his name tag, it reading “Bearrington”. He had black, beady eyes that weren’t actually very intimidating with his cream colored fur.
“Would you ladies care for some cake?” he asked politely.
I thought on it. I decided that I liked cake. “Yes please,” I said, raising my hand slightly.
“That’s one order,” he said, turning to Candy next.
“Yes please!” she said with enthusiasm.
He turned to Emmy next. “No thank you,” she eeped out, a blush forming on her cheeks. I was downtrodden at the sight. The Emmy I knew would have made some half-hearted flirt with a bear even as average looking as our waiter.
“I’ll have some, hot stuff,” Claire piped up, smirking.
“No thanks,” Zoe waved her hoof.
The waiter bowed slightly, before swapping our tea kettle and walking away.
We each refilled our cups, sipped them, and sat in silence.
Claire furrowed her brow, obviously troubled by something. “Emmy, you don’t need to look so gloomy, girl.”
Emmy looked over to her, her gloominess not yet washed away.
“Look,” Claire continued, “We’re all wearing too!” Claire said, lifting her skirt and revealing her diaper. I was glad I wasn’t the only one with a real baby diaper on, and seeing Claire proudly display her utterly childish pink, yellow, green and white diaper made me feel slightly better about my own similarly padded bottom. I also wondered if Claire had her panties on under her diaper too, a thought which I blushed at, hoping the other girls wouldn’t notice.
“Yeah,” Zoe chimed in. “Seriously. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. We’re all in this together.” She merely pointing her hoof at her tutu, her diaper clearly visible plain as day. Out of us with bladder control, hers was the most adult, being just plain white. Still, how she could wear such an outfit without dying of shame was beyond me. But her courage was infectious, and it continued to bolster my own.
Next came Candy, who lifted up her dress before she even talked, displaying her relatively mature pull-up compared to me and Claire’s baby diapers. I pouted a little a the injustice, but again felt a boost of confidence and a smile creep up. “Mhm. Wha’ d’ey said.”
It was my turn next, and everyone looked expectantly at me, even Emmy, who was remarkably gentle with her expression. And so, proudly, smirking from my friends’ confidence, I lifted the hem of my dress, making extra sure the petticoat wasn’t blocking Emmy’s view. My smirk turned into a grin as Emmy blushed and looked away. “C’mon Emmy, it’s no big deal!” I told her.
“I…” Emmy faltered. She paused, mulling over her words while we all patiently waited. “Look, I appreciate, it but it’s different, because you girls don’t…” she paused again, swallowing a lump in her throat, “…need them… likeme.” Emmy looked like she was about to cry.
Candy grabbed her paw. “I’‘s okay, Emmy. We will be y’ur friends no madda’ wha’,” Candy comforted her, smiling.
Emmy choked back some sobs, unevenly breathing. “Thank you…” she said, turning to look at everyone around the table, including me, “Thank you all. You girls mean the world to me, even if I don’t always show it.”
Some moments later, our cake came. “My apologies for the delay, we were all out and had to bake some!”
We all wished him well, except Claire, who just tried to flirt with him. Us three with the food pounded it down, while Zoe and Emmy watched intently.
Half way through my slice, I heard Emmy pipe up. “Bea?”
I looked up to her. “Y’ah?” I answered, cake spilling out my mouth and onto the table cloth. Everyone besides me and Emmy giggled.
“Bea, I just want to say, I’m sorry. I’m a bad friend,” she said with a straight face.
A lump formed in my throat listening to her. I could tell she herself was on the verge of tears.
“All this stuff happened, and… I just don’t want to lose any friends. And I’m so grateful to you that you’ve never cut me off, even now when I’m…” she sniffled, pausing. But this time everyone else was silent, watching with saddened gazes. “Well, you know what I mean. So I just want to say I’m sorry for always being a jerk. The truth is, I was always jealous of you. I have to try so hard to pull off anything, and you do it like it’s nothing. The truth is—” she gasped, tears starting to pool in her eyes, and Candy latched onto her paw again in support, “—I’ve been a terrible tiger, and you’ve never been anything but nice. And now I’m…”
“You don’t have to say anymore, I understand,” I said after swallowing my cake. “I’m sorry too. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you.” I frowned.
“Thank you,” Emmy said through some more choked breaths. “I love you girls so much.”
I continued eating my cake, enjoying the newfound understanding while feeling sorrier than ever for Emmy. I didn’t care if she was just faking it, because I wanted to believe in her.
Claire was discussing something mundane again, and the other girls were nodding along, clearly just enjoying the sound of her voice. But I started to feel a more pressing matter, and I really didn’t want to emulate Emmy in that particular case, as much as I was warming up to her. “I have to use the bathroom,” I said so everyone at the table could hear me. I instantly regretted it, seeing Emmy’s lip quiver. I averted her gaze, and stood up quickly. “Excuse me,” I walked away from the table, and off the street, into the cafe, my diaper reminding me of itself the whole way. I reached the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, but frowned when I found the door wouldn’t budge.Guess I need to wait,I thought to myself.
“Oh, Bea!” I heard Candy call out to me.
“Huh?” I asked, turning to her.
“Bea… I f’ink you really hur’ Emmy’s feelin’s,” she said, disappointed.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said with my expression falling.
“I know. Bu’ I know how to make i’ up to Emmy easy,” she said with a optimistic smile.
“How?!” I berated her unintentionally. I felt terrible about how I just snubbed the reformed big cat, and I was ready to do just about anything to undo my mistake.
“No shou’in’!” Candy scolded me.
I shrugged my shoulders in shame. “Sorry. But how?”
“Well, dat’s easy. You jus’ godda use y’ur diaper.”
“Huh? Why?” I questioned, my mind not quite ready for the logical leap required.
“Because, Emmy said da’ i’‘s diff’rent cuz we don’ need our diapers, bu’ if you don’ go to d’e poddy, d’en you can’ make i’ to d’e poddy n’ so you need y’ur diaper.”
“Oh,” I said, her explanation straightforward enough for my overactive imagination. “But why do I have have to be the one?”
“Cuz no one else has godda go!” she giggled.
“Oh,” I said, giggling with her. In the land of imagination, where physical laws are flouted and social norms aren’t normal, her terse explanation seemed to make sense. In my already muddy state of mind, I was content with the simplicity of the solution; after all, who would even remember me in such a big city? I knew my friends wouldn’t really care; they didn’t mind Emmy’s condition, after all. The already lessened embarrassment was even further trivialized by the fact that I was helping out Emmy, who had but moments before made her heartfelt confession to me. And so, for Candy, I had but one question. “How do I go?”
“You jus’ go like a poddy bu’ in d’e air.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said, squatting down, feeling the tension in my diaper, and something beneath that I had forgotten about. But I looked around the cafe, and I saw a few too many people watching. “But there are so many people…” I protested weakly.
“Jus’ imagine d’ey aren’ d’ere!” she offered in a patronizing tone.
“Okay…” I said, closing my eyes, still in the squatting position.
Even though, sitting at the table, I felt as if I was about to have an accident, trying to go in the middle of the cafe was harder than I expected. I could constantly feel something creeping up from the back, but it didn’t feel like it was particularly close to exiting. From the front, however, I started to see results. After about a minute of coaxing my bladder, it happened. It was just a trickle, but it eventually grew into a torrent as my padding soaked it up, yellowing and various designs on the front washing out. I sighed in relief, and the feeling a freshly soaked diaper wasn’t as bad as I as was expecting. It was certainly worth it if it would make Emmy happy.
I wasn’t content with a wet diaper, however. There was still another matter I needed to attend do. Not getting results fast enough, I began to push, trying to hide my struggle in the process. It was slow coming, but at some point it just fell out, coming faster than I expected. I gasped at the lumpy feeling in my diaper, blushing. I knew there was still more, however, and I continued my pushing. Feeling like I didn’t have enough room in my diaper, I decided to go back into a standing position. In quick succession, the rest of my mess was pushed into my diaper, leaving lumps in the already soaked padding that I, again, didn’t mind as much as I thought I would. Feeling relieved and calm, I looked at Candy, who had been waiting there patiently, a smile plastered on her face. “I don’t have to go anymore…”
For a brief moment, everyone in the establishment looked at me curiously. I noticed their gazes, blushed, and began walking towards the exit. Having left the commotion behind, I headed back towards our table, Candy following me.
“…And so that was that!” I heard the tail end of Zoe’s conversation.
I sat down in my seat, my mess spreading around my soiled diaper, causing me to blush profusely.
It was only a moment before someone commented on it, that someone being an otter. “Pee-ew! What is that smell?”
I blushed harder than I thought possible.
Candy piped up. “Well, Bea cou’dn’’ make i’ to d’e poddy. So she hadda use her diaper. She s’ill needs d’em sometimes.”
Emmy perked up, looking over to me with a blush of her own, somehow visible behind the her orange fur on her cheeks. I didn’t return her gaze; I simply shuffled in my mess, wanting to get my mind off it.
“Ah, well, good thing she was wearing protection! Otherwise she would have made a big mess somewhere,” Zoe helpfully added. It sounded like something that a parent would tell a bed wetter, and I was reminded of her occupation as a daycare attendant.
I poked at my cake, trying to take my mind off how I used the garment around my waist like a toddler. “I’m not a baby, jeez,” I said flustered.
“Well, of course you’re not! Just look at how you fill out that dress. Besides, adults have accidents sometimes. It’s not like you’re gonna loose friends over it,” Claire said, shooting an encouraging wink at Emmy.
Emmy looked over to me, her cheeks turning scarlet as the same happened to mine. Our gazes met, and I saw her mouth “Thank you.” I gave a flat smirk.
“Well, what were we talking about?” Claire asked before continuing to give her long winded tirade. We all smiled, listening intently. Even Emmy’s spirits were up.
I slowly forgot about my mess, finishing my cake, and and pouring myself some tea.
It was pleasant, sitting there in the warm sun, animals and people walking by on the street of all shapes and sizes, the buildings around us soaring into the skies. Every now and then I would be reminded of my diaper, but I would quickly forget about it after listening to my friends, and seeing Emmy genuinely happy without bringing anyone else down.
But then I saw Candy’s face light up, before shouting, “Mommy!”
“Huh,” I said, trying to figure out who “Mommy” was supposed to be. Zoe always had mom vibes about her, even though she had no kids. I guess it was just the way that she would listen to you no matter what, and would always try to offer a gentle touch. She was sweet like that. Being a daycare worker probably helped a tiny bit, too.
But to complicate matters, Candy wasn’t looking at Zoe. She was looking at me. Or rather, she was looking behind me. So I turned around. My face lit up when I realized who it was.
“Ms. Ive!” I shouted as well.
Wait,I was suddenly brought back to reality as I furrowed my brow.Ms. Ive?
“Hi, girls,” the woman of the house said to both of us. The land of pretend faded away, I was left back in the playroom. I didn’t feel like I was transported, but I suddenly started to recognize things for what they were. The cake and tea were air. Emmy wasn’t a tiger, she was a stuffed animal. Candy wasn’t a confident woman, she was 5. And I was 23, and—
“Oh my, what’s that smell?” Ms. Ive asked, her face contorting in disgust.
I suddenly became extremely aware of the ruined panties and diaper around my bottom.
“E-excuse m-me,” I said, my voice struggling to escape my throat. I quickly stood up and speedwalked past Ms. Ive.
“Huh?” she asked, still confused.
“Emmy was feelin’ bad cuz she’s in condend, ‘n Bea made a’ acciden’ to cheer Emmy up!”
“Bea did what?” I heard as I approached the bathroom. Ms. Ive wasn’t angry, just confused, but as every step shifted the mess more and more, it brought me closer to the verge of tears. I got to the door in question, and tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I kept trying and trying, shaking the handle this way and that, but nothing would work. I gave the door a few tugs and shoves, my breathing growing more and more ragged as a I struggled desperately to fight back my waterworks. I was just trying to hold off until I could ball my eyes out in the privacy of the bathroom, before being inevitably kicked out of the house.
I grew desperate. I put my shoulder to the door, again wiggling the lever up and down, desperate to get it open. But it was no use. I couldn’t muster nearly enough force, especially in my fragile state, to get it to budge. I broke. The first tear reached my lip, and from that moment I was unable to hold back. Tears streaming down my face, I fell to the floor, laying against the door. My knees accidentally propped up my dress, putting my shame on full display.
“Bea, honey, what’s wrong?” I heard in front of me.
I tried excusing myself as best I could. Which, at that moment, was just empty sobs. Not that it would have been any easier if I was more coherent; in fact, the sobbing was better in a way, because it let me pretend like I might have had a valid reason without having to do any of the leg work.
“Bea, please, I’m worried about you,” Ms. Ive called again.
I continued crying, not sure what to say.
“Did you have an accident?” I heard her ask.
Still not looking at her, I nodded, my breathing still sputtering profusely, my tear ducts still overproducing.
“Were you wearing a diaper?” she asked next.
I nodded.
“Oh. That’s…” she stopped, not knowing what it was. “Are you trying to clean up?”
I nodded again, my sobbing amplifying.
I felt her arms wrap around me, and I heard her whisper. “It’s alright…” she cooed. “You know, I got that dress for you. I knew how much you liked playing dress-up with Candice, and I just couldn’t resist. I have to say, it looks great on you.”
I almost smiled, but my frown was too powerful.
“Come on, let’s get you all sorted out. That door is jammed, remember?” I felt her fingers wrap around mine, and she pulled me up. “Lets go to the bathroom downstairs. Okay?”
I nodded, feeling small. I saw Candy in the playroom doorway, and she looked up to us with a concerned gaze. “Is Bea okay, Mommy?”
“She is, honey. She just had an accident and she’s scared because girls her size don’t have many accidents,” Ms. Ive said, squeezing my hand. “But it’s okay, because ‘not many’ doesn’t mean ‘none’, which she will figure out once we can get the waterworks stopped.”
I looked away, ashamed, still sniffling. She continued to hold my hand tight and lead me down the stairs, eventually arriving at the bathroom. She opened the door and led me inside and sat me down on the toilet seat. She let go of my hand, and walked to the doorway.
“I’m going to leave you to clean up here, alright? Tell me if you need anything. There should be wipes under the sink, and you can take a shower if you feel like it.”
I nodded.
Once she left and closed the door, I wasn’t event sure to begin with my cleanup process. My crying had mostly subsided, but my breaths were still uneven and my cheeks salty. I just sat for several pregnant minutes, thinking deeply, trying to calm down further.
I eventually decided to start with my dress. Ms. Ive telling me she got it for me made me strangely happy. Thinking back on Ms. Ive brightened my mood and allowed me to start working, and I slipped the dress off over my head.
Then I was faced with my diaper. I knew that my panties were completely soiled, and I quickly decided that it was not worth salvaging them. I ripped open the tapes on the diaper, but I was left with another dilemma. Most of my mess was still trapped in my panties; the best way around this, I found, was to use a pair of scissors from the cabinet. I snipped the sides of the thinner underwear, and they fell directly into the open diaper.
Then I needed to actually clean up my behind. Setting my thoroughly soiled diaper on the ground, I grabbed the wipes from under the cabinet, and began the time consuming task of wiping. Each used fabric I deposited into the old diaper, and once I felt clean, I spread my legs, examining my work. Finally, I wrapped up everything into a ball.
It didn’t take long to identify the next challenge. I had no more underwear. I blushed, and I knocked on the door, hoping Ms. Ive would be of some use.
“Yes? Bea?” I heard from the other side.
“Uhm…” I muttered quietly.
“What’s that hon?”
“I… uh…”
“OH!” she exclaimed, chortling. “You don’t have any underwear. I’ll go fetch some.”
I heard her walk away and return several minutes later. “Sorry, Bea, but I couldn’t find your underwear. And you know how I feel about sharing it. So I’m giving you this, because this is all I have.” She opened the door a crack, and pushed something inside, quickly setting it on the counter and closing the door again.
I blushed, noticing it was another one of the adult diapers. “But…” I protested.
“It’s fine, Bea. I’ve already seen you in a diaper.”
“I-I know, but…”
“It’s either that or stay in there forever,” she said sternly, quickly correcting to a more gentle tone, “But you can’t do that, because me and Candy will need to use it eventually. So put that on, put on your dress, and let’s have a talk about what happened. I’m not mad, Bea, I just want to make sure there’s nothing wrong. Okay? You’re a good babysitter, the best I’ve had, and I don’t want to ruin that. So lets talk, yeah?”
“O-okay…” I said as I started to unfold the diaper with shaky hands. I got it ready for taping by placing it between my legs like before and pulling it up, feeling it over my bare skin for the first time. The feeling I had gotten from my diaper while I was pretending were embarrassingly real, and I couldn’t help but to admit that being wrapped in a soft diaper wasn’t awful. Still, I wanted to deny, and I tried my best.
After my next diaper was taped up, I went back to my dress. Much like before, it slipped on with ease and grace.
Not quite ready to go, I steeled my nerves and exited the bathroom.
In the living room I saw her sitting on the couch patiently, waiting for me. Noticing me, she patted down the seat next to her, and I roboticly obliged. My cheeks were scarlet as I waddled and crinkled the whole way, finally sitting down with an audible crunch.
Ms. Ive just giggled at me. “That dress looks so cute on you, it’s hard to describe. And your diaper certainly helps increase the cuteness factor,” she said, before quickly amending, “In a weird, way, I mean.”
I couldn’t speak, only blush.
“Okay, now, I want you to explain exactly what happened. Please don’t change any details, no matter how silly or even crazy you think they sound. Okay? I mean it one hundred percent. There is absolutely zero judgement here, trust me, and I’m willing to believe more than you can imagine.”
“O-okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. I began to explain how Candice just wanted a simple tea party, and how I liked her tea parties, but that this one was different because everyone was supposed to wear a diaper for her stuffed tiger Emmy, and how I went along with it because it all felt so real—how every time we play pretend, it feels so real, and how I lose myself almost every time, to the point where I will forget about the real world—and how Emmy was being nice since her botched operation, and how I wanted to cheer her up since we became friends, and what Emmy said, and what that meant I needed to do to cheer her up. And that was it, the story of how I messed my diaper and cried into my charge’s mother’s arms.
She looked forward for a long while, staring at the wall. I didn’t know what she was thinking about, and I only hoped that she wasn’t going to try and have me committed to a mental hospital or fire me. I just clutched the hem of my dress, shifting uneasily in my diaper.
“So, Bea, there’s something I need to tell you. Well… yeah, something I need to tell you,” Ms. Ive said, breathing in hard, “I don’t think it’s just you,” she said quickly, “I think it’s… my daughter.”
“What?”
"Let me explain. A little over a year ago, I started noticing something was… off while I was playing with my daughter. I would be forgetting stuff. I mean, I would get so engrossed in playing with her that I would… start to hallucinate, I guess. Nothing bad, in fact, it was all good and fun, and I chalked it up to just getting engrossed in her little games, because she’s my precious daughter. But then… it got bad. I started missing stuff because I was playing with her; stuff like dates and appointments. But that didn’t bother me, because, again, it was my daughter and I could just reschedule appointments.
“But then… her stuffed animals startedtalkingto me. At first I could tell that either I or Candice were just talking in a silly voice, but then… I couldn’t tell anymore—and some of her characters were so…real. At that point, I still wasn’t that scared. But then I… Then, well, for my job, I had a night shift one day, and around lunch time, my daughter wanted to play a game. I was confident I would be able to break away from it, but I got… lost. And I mean it: I was on cloud nine. I welly and truly thought that I was in a jungle, going for a hike. Everything felt real, and I swear I could even taste the trail mix I ‘had’ on me. It sounds like what you were talking about, right?”
I nodded.
"So, that wasn’t what startled me the most; when I finally snapped out of it, it was because I heard the TV turn on. One of us must have accidentally stepped on the remote or something, but that managed to bring me back to my senses. But when I looked at the clock, I noticed that my shift was already halfway over. It was thankfully remote work, so I was able to explain it away by saying there were connection issues, and luckily they believed me because of my record. But that was was my wake up call.
“So I went to a psychiatrist. They said that perhaps playing with my daughter was triggering it. How, they didn’t know. But it was. As soon as I stopped playing with her, I never had those weird visions again. I was still in her life as much as possible, but I couldn’t play her games, because I knew what it did to me. But I needed to get a babysitter, because I was starting to drive all over the place from work. You know how it is. I hired a babysitter. She was nice, but then, out of the blue, week later, she quit. She didn’t say why, she just said she had other stuff to do. And so I hired another one, and it was the same thing: mysteriously quitting a week later. I would keep having sitters come, and longest one I had before you was just 2 weeks. Do you see what I’m trying to say?”
I just silently looked at the wall in front of us, letting her talk.
She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that, I think they quit because the same thing happened to them as us, and it freaked them out,” she paused, “Does it freak you out?”
I was about to speak, but my breath caught in my mouth, and I reformulated my words. This woman had already seen me at my lowest, and was still as caring as ever. Lying to her was the wrong choice. “No,” I said.
“How… how does it make you feel?”
“I… I like playing with her. It’s always fun… and Zoe is such a—” I stopped, not wanting to sound more crazy. “Ah, I mean…”
“It’s okay, no judgement here. I have my own stories too,” she smiled, squeezing my hand.
“…Zoe is a nice zebra. There, I said it,” I said, determined.
“I’ve never met her, but I have met Claire. Is she still around?”
“Oh yeah! Claire is hilarious.”
“I know she is. That was the first toy I got for Candy, too. Can you believe that?”
“I didn’t know that. What about Emmy, did you know her?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh…”
We sat in silence for some time. I looked down at my lap, and shifted my bottom, blushing at the feeling of my diaper pushing apart my legs.
Ms. Ive still had some questions, however. “So, if you liked it, why were you crying?”
“I was scared you were going to fire me for acting like a child, and I was embarrassed about what I had done.”
“Well, okay, that should have been obvious,” Ms. Ive smiled, “To me, I mean. But there’s no need to worry. I know what it’s like, to go… there. Sometimes you’re just… not all there, and things that wouldn’t make sense normally suddenly do.”
I looked her in the eyes. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Of course. But I need to know, when did this start happening for you?”
I mulled it over, seriously considering the question. For me, my decent into “imagination land” as I began calling it was also gradual, as I didn’t start playing her games right away. I had an epiphany at that moment, and concluded that that the other babysitters must have had it happen to them immediately, and that was what freaked them out so bad. I certainly felt that if the first time I met Candy I ended up wearing and using a diaper because a stuffed animal told me to, I would have probably left too. But I realized there was a pivotal moment: the first time that I had felt like I was no longer in the house. “It happened… about a month after I started here. I was playing with Candy and Zoe, and at some point I was just… on a ship. It almost felt like a dream, thinking back on it. Like, one moment I was in the playroom having a fun conversation with Zoe, and then I found myself in a room on a cruise ship, and Zoe was sitting next to me, and Candy too, and we were just talking about life, and Zoe was saying that she was going to try traveling, and… well, yeah. The first time itreallyhappened was about a month ago.”
Ms. Ive pursed her lips. “And how often does this happen? How do you keep getting out of it?”
Blood rushed to my face, turning me into a tomato. “Basically daily.”
“You meanevery timeyou come here?” she looked at me, smirking.
“Yeah…” I shied away.
“Well how do you get out? What does it?” she asked.
“It’s when you come home, really.” I explained shyly, remembering Ms. Ive standing it the doorway from earlier. I was blushing so much I started to sweat, and I started to notice my padding becoming damper. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a slight reminder of the close encounter I had with trauma.
“Aren’t you ever worried that you won’t be able to… come back?” she asked, slowly grabbing my hand out of worry.
I furrowed my brow. I had never even thought of the possibility of being stuck in imagination land. I didn’t know whether or not that was because it didn’t scare me, or I was stupid. But Ms. Ive was expecting an answer. “I never thought about it… I mean, it doesn’t sound that bad…” I contemplated out loud.
“I see… Even if you’re stuck wearing a diaper?” she squeezed my hand.
“I-I don’t know,” I answered without confidence, shifting in my diaper.
“Well… alright then,” she said, ambiguously sighing, “As long as you’re okay with it all, I would love to keep you on as my babysitter. I think Candice would love it too.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning to her, trying to emphasize with my expression how much it meant to me.
“Of course,” she offered, drawing me in for a hug and running the small of my back. We embraced each other for nearly 30 seconds, and I didn’t want to stop by the end. But eventually she let go, and we were left in an peaceful silence. Noticing the time, Ms. Ive spoke up. “By the way, it’s well past your quitting time, so you’re free to go.”
My face lit up in realization. “Oh!” I said, getting up from my seat and reminding myself of my padded bottom.
“You should try and find your clothes. I couldn’t find them earlier, sorry about that.”
I nodded, remembering that my clothes were still in the closet in the playroom.
I walked up the stairs, lightly enjoying the feeling of thickness between my legs. It was a foreign feeling, but far from a bad one.
I entered the room to find Candy still sitting at her table, her animal friends having been moved to the corner of the room. It looked like she was still in her dress, and she was writing on a piece of paper.
I said nothing as I walked over to the clothes pile, but Candy could hear me crinkling. She turned around and got up out of chair, her face contorted in concern. “I’m sorry, Bea!” she consoled.
I looked over to her, my turning cheeks scarlet. “Don’t worry about it…”
“Bu’ you were crying…” she lamented.
“I-it’s okay, your mom helped me and we got everything sorted out,” I explained, hoping to sooth her.
“Well… okay. Bu’ will you efer be back?” she asked, he voice wavering.
I smiled brightly. “Yep. Tomorrow morning, just like usual.”
Her face lit up in enthusiasm. “Yay!” she said. “Are you looking for y’ur clof’es?”
“Yeah…” I said, my hand in the pile.
“I’ll help!” she said, starting to dig through. It was worth while, too, because in short time she found my shorts, and soon after I found my shirt.
I thanked her and walked out of the room, heading to the bathroom to get changed.
Ms. Ive spotted me on my way down, and called out to me. “Oh, by the way, I meant what I said about that dress. I got it for you. You can take it home, or you can leave it here. It’s yours.”
I gave a toothy grin. “Thank you!” I said, nearly skipping the rest of the way to the bathroom.
Once I got in the bathroom, I shut the door and slipped off my dress. I was left in my bra and diaper that’s when I encountered my dilemma. I sighed. If I put on my shorts without underwear, it would be unbearably uncomfortable. If I wore the dress without underwear, I ran the risk of flashing someone. Neither one of those options sounded appealing, so I decided to keep the diaper on. There was still a potential issue with the dress, however, as, it was possible to show people my diaper, which, while not as illegal and lewd sounding, was still plenty embarrassing. So, I decided, shorts over diaper it was. I first put on my shirt, and then soon after I pulled up my shorts. I was surprised to find that the shorts weren’t too tight over the diaper, and was also surprised how non-obvious it was; the contours of the garment weren’t visible at all contrary to my fears. I lifted my shirt to see the top of my underwear peaking out, however, and I dropped it, blushing. Finally, squeezing my thighs together one last time, I exited the room, dress in hand.
“Well, I’m going now. Thank you for the dress!” I said on my way out the door.
I closed the door behind me and walked over to my modest vehicle. I opened the car door and threw my new dress inside, before sitting down hard and hearing the characteristic crinkle. I slammed my door, and went to start the car. I ended up grabbing air, so I patted down my shorts and found what I was looking for in my right pocket. I put the key into the ignition, and turned.
The engine seemed to sputter more than usual, but I didn’t think anything of it until I had been turning the key for ten seconds without any progress. I sighed, and tried again. It clacked and clugged some more, but it still ended in the same disappointing static engine. That time I scoffed, trying yet again to get it to start, in vain. I must have tried the key fifteen times, praying that I would still have a working car. But after all those failed attempts, I gave up, utterly defeated.
I had no clue what I was supposed to do. I had never faced an automotive issue where I couldn’t bring my car to the shop, and I started to get anxious; my heart raced and my skin dampened, which wasn’t helping the state of my new, more absorbent underwear. I put my head on the steering wheel in exasperation, but I startled myself when my forehead pressed on the horn. The shock added to my anxiety, and my mouth felt dry as my throat started to ache. The day was taking it’s toll on me, and I only wanted to cry again, but my tears were perpetually on the verge of coming out.
I tightly shut my eyes to get them to water, but it wasn’t happening. As it was, I was giving dry sobs, trying my hardest to keep my throat from becoming too irritated.
I heard the front door close, and I saw the silhouette of a woman I presumed to be Ms. Ives step out onto the small patio. She walked over the car in her usual “business-y” fashion, and even in the quickly vanishing light of the dusk, her frown was plain to see. She leaned down to stick her head in my window. I reached over to the crank, slowly bringing down the pane.
She spoke first. “Beatrice? Is everything alright? Why are you still here?” she asked without a hint of resentment.
“My car won’t start,” I raspily replied.
“Oh dear. Is the battery dead?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. I mean, the radio and stuff still works. And it wasn’t making that clicking sound that happens when it is dead.”
“Oh…” she said, furrowing her brow. “Would you like to try doing a jump start? I don’t think it will work but it might be worth a shot.”
“Sure, I guess…” I sighed. I got out of the car, and helped Ms. Ive find her own jumper cables. We hooked up the cars and tried a few times, but it became clear it wasn’t going to work. Eventually, we put the cables away and went back into the house. At that point, I was mentally exhausted, and just wanted to lie down and reset.
We both sat down on the couch, and I was so frazzled that I didn’t even notice my bottom sink into my padding. I looked at the blue carpet in front of me with a perfect poker face. No one could tell what I was thinking or how I was feeling, not even myself.
Ms. Ive broke the silence, however. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked me.
I didn’t respond, just trying to think.
She answered for me. “I can drive you home, but that’s a bit out of the way for me. By the time I get back, it will already be Candice’s bedtime, and that’s assuming we don’t eat dinner. But I can still do it if you really really need to,” she tried offering. “Oh, but there’s another problem, because I won’t be able to pick you up in the morning.”
I huffed. “I can try ride sharing.”
“Oh, yeah! See how much it is.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, noticing it was low-battery. I rolled my eyes and continued to the app. I punched in my address, and waited for a response. It took a much longer time than I expected to calculate, and I eagerly waited. Eventually the loading ceased, but I was left dumbfounded. “What?” I said out loud.
“What is it?” Ms. Ive asked, trying to peek at the phone.
“There’s no way this is right. This is way too much!” I protested to my app, as if it was listening. “It’s $45 dollars! That’s over half of what I make in a day. What the heck?” I cried, falling back into the sofa, letting the hand holding the phone drop to my side.
“Oh boy…” Ms. Ive said. She scrunched her face in consideration. “What are we going to do about this, now?” she thought some more, looking off to the top right corner. “Well, what did you need from your house?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“I mean—well, Bea—I mean, maybe you can just stay here until the weekend, if you don’t need anything from home. There’s a spare bed in the that closet-area that I could clear off for you, if you’re interested, and I can lend you some of my old clothes if you’d like,” she explained, slightly awkwardly.
“I…” I trailed, off, starting to give it thought. I went over all the things that I would want from home. My clothes, my toothbrush, and my phone charger. I knew she had a phone charger for me, because I often used her spare during the day. She also said she could lend me some clothes, and I knew we were a similar size and that she had fine tastes, so I wasn’t worried about wearing ill-fitting rags. Rather inconveniently, I neglected the fact that she wouldn’t be able to lend me underwear bottoms for anyone over the age of two. Regardless, in my forgetful state, that only left one concern. “What about a toothbrush?”
“Oh, we have plenty of extras from the dentist. So are you alright with it?” she asked, her voice dripping with hope.
“I guess so!” I threw my hands up slightly, just wanting to be done with it.
“Great,” Ms. Ive said merrily, trying to brighten the mood. “It really won’t be any trouble. How about we figure out what to do about your car after dinner. Do you—” she stopped herself, quickly putting her hand to her mouth, before bringing it down and continuing, “Ah I was just about to ask about your car, but Ijustsaid we’ll deal with that after dinner, didn’t I?” she smirked.
I gave a weak but sincere smile.
Ms. Ive stood up. “You want to help me with dinner?” she asked.
I nodded, not wanting to offend her.
“Alright. Let’s get started then.” I followed her into the kitchen and stood by the sink, waiting for instruction. Ms. Ive reached into the cabinets, grabbed two cans, and handed them to me. I set them down on the counter, noticing they were cans of coconut milk, and she continued to the fridge, pulling out a head of broccoli. She grabbed a cutting board from a cabinet beneath the countertop and a bowl from the cupboard. I noticed her smile grow as she worked, but unfortunately it wasn’t as infectious I’d wanted it to be. I flashed back to the sound of Ms. Ive asking “What’s that smell?” and the feeling of my messy diaper on the small, wooden chair in the playroom, and then finally to my then-current padded predicament. My cheeks heat up, and I tried my hardest to banish the thoughts, and luckily Ms. Ive had something for me. “Could you break apart the broccoli into smaller bits? You can place all the pieces into this bowl. And then you can open these cans.”
“Okie-dokie,” I said as I went to wash my hands before ripping branches off the broccoli. I started and the base, meticulously refining the branches until they were pleasantly bite sized.
Meanwhile, Ms. Ive pulled out another cutting board and a knife, as well as two chicken breasts from the fridge. She opened the package and drained the juice in the sink and then went to work. “I saw a packet of peanut sauce mix at the store, and I thought it sounded interesting. So that’s what we’re having,” she said contently.
“Peanut sauce?” I asked, having never heard of it. Growing up in a small town had it’s perks, but worldliness was not one of them.
“Yeah, it’s Thai, I think. Candy always says she wants to try new foods, and you know how I like indulging her,” Ms. Ive shook her head playfully, “I’ve never met another kid who says she wants to try new foods. I have no clue where she got it from…”
I smiled back. “Yeah, I tried to make her ‘kids’ food when I first started, but she always looked so bored with it. You must have been feeding her caviar as a baby!” I laughed jovially, forgetting my woes for a moment.
“You know, that’s the strangest part. I never did anything crazy. One day, she just got tired of mac ‘n cheese. Actually, about a year ago, I heard, ‘I neva wanna see mac n’ cheese again, i’‘s so boring!’” Ms. Ive imitated, “Really, I feel like she’s so adventurousdespitemy parenting.”
I giggled again. I felt like I could hear Candy say those exact words. Still, I too was baffled by how mature Candy could be. “Maybe she got it from her father…?” I asked bashfully.
Ms. Ive’s mood seemed to sour, and I winced at the obviously sore topic. “Who the hell knows?” she asked with vitriol, uncharacteristically cursing. “Sorry,” she added, seeing my concern.
“N-no,” I stuttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” I trailed off, hoping to find the right word in time.
Ms. Ive dismissed it immediately. “No, it’s really okay. You couldn’t have known about… him,” Ms. Ive sighed.
I silently continued my work on the broccoli, trying my hardest not to upset Ms. Ive anymore. Seeing her like this and knowing it was my fault made me feel like trash, especially when she was kind and gentle in my darkest hour. Eventually, I finished, and all that was left in my hands was a large chunk of stem. I set the bowl of heads and the stems aside, and dug into the nearest drawer, looking for the canopener. I found it a moment later and began the tedious task of opening the cans.
Rather serendipitously, me and Ms. Ive finished our tasks at the same time. She scraped off the diced chicken into the waiting pan, washed her hands, and finished by me. She inspected the broccoli, and gave my hair a playful ruffle. “Good job,” she praised.
I smiled, enjoying the affection. But as a grown woman, I naturally had to protest the doting. “Hey,” I tried to chide.
Ms. Ive smiled back, and grabbed the bowl before twirling around and setting it by the cooking chicken. I continued to watch her work, and it made me happy to see her back to her normal, jovial self after I soured her mood. I wondered, though, how a working mother, who almost never seemed take a break, could stay so upbeat, energetic, and all around pleasant all the time. I was sure that she must of had her moments, but even when I was being a pain, she seemed to always be understanding in way I just couldn’t wrap my head around. When I had my accident, she wasn’t even the slightest bit angry. She was understanding and soothing, in a way that I didn’t think I could ever be. I could almost guarantee that if I had been her, I would’ve been very upset with my babysitter for having acted so childishly. I wanted to know, so I asked. “Ms. Ive?”
She turned around, shooting her star speckled smile in my direction. “Yes?”
“How… How can you be so calm all the time?”
“What do you mean?”
I blushed. “W-when you came home earlier… and you saw me…” I paused, searching for the right phrasing, “If I were you, I think I would have been more… upset.”
Ms. Ive gave a slight frown, considering her answer. “Well… there are two parts to it, I suppose…” she seemed to shy away at then end.
“W-what?”
“Well, I already told you earlier that I know that your mind can be a little… wacky.”
“A-and?”
She smirked, trying to stifle her giggle. “Well, to be honest, I thought you were really cute, in a weird way.”
“W-what?” I paled.
“Well…” she rolled her eyes, redirecting her gaze, “When you were crying, you looked like… You looked scared. You looked fragile and innocent,” she said, giving a small smirk, “And I just had an urge to comfort you, because I knew you didn’t hurt anyone, and that you were the one hurting, and that you needed comfort.”
I bit my lip, trying to parse her analysis. “But cute?” I asked, realizing she had avoided the question.
“Oh…” she sighed, “Well, okay, I’ll say it. You looked like a little kid in that diaper.”
Blood rushed to my face, but I was so used to the feeling that I was more upset that I was losing precious water to all the sweating I was doing than anything. “D-didn’t you think it was gross, though?”
Ms. Ive appeared particularly thoughtful, and took a few extra seconds to respond. “No, not really. I’ve seen nastier stuff, and you being obviously upset about the whole ordeal made me not worry about that so much. If you were enjoying it, maybe I would have been a little more weirded out,” she giggled, poking me lightly.
I smiled in response, playfully retracting at her touch.
“Oh, looks like the sauce is almost done,” Ms. Ive said, turning to the stove. She melodramatically brought her palm to her forehead, exclaiming, “Oh jeez, I’m such dunce. I forgot the rice! Bea, will you get a pot out?”
I nodded, and rustled around in the pots and pans cabinet, looking for a proper pot. I ended up setting for a sauce pan.
Ms. Ive took the pan and poured some rice in, giving an educated guess as to how much she would need. She then turned on the faucet, and when she was satisfied with the water level, she placed the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. I had no reason to doubt her, never having cooked rice myself.
The rest of the time was filled with waiting, and we just silently enjoyed each other’s company. I would sneak a quick glance at Ms. Ive just to observe the curious woman. I still didn’t completely understand why she was so caring and laid back, but I was thankful. I felt relieved to know that she was willing to put up with my moment of ineptitude, and didn’t even seem particularly skeptical of my abilities.
Eventually, the rice was boiled and I was instructed to get plates out for everyone. The meal was served, the table was set, and Candice was summoned to the dining room slash kitchen. She was happily surprised when she saw me, and it was at that moment that I realized that we hadn’t told her the news. “Bea’s s’ill here?”
Ms. Ive spoke for me. “Yep. Her car isn’t working, so she’s going to stay here until the weekend.”
“Yay!” Candy exclaimed.
I smiled at her enthusiasm, already starting to forget my woes.
We all sat down at the table, and my crinkling behind decided to immediately sour my mood again. I sighed and stuck my fork into a chunk of chicken, the fact that I had been diapered for half the day with everyone knowing sinking in. Again, while having a boss as caring as Ms. Ive was certainly a blessing, that didn’t help the infantilization I felt.
Still, the dinner was pleasant for the most part. Listening to Candy hastily scarf down the food in front of her while mother gently scolded her brought a smile face. In no time it seemed to be over, and Ms. Ive gathered everyone’s plates. I told her I would do the dishes tomorrow, and she gave me a thankful affirmation.
After dinner, me and Ms. Ive discussed what to do about my car. We decided that a tow was going to be the best option, because she could call her friend for a favor. Then, over the weekend, she would take me to my apartment to grab whatever I needed and I would stay at her house until my car was fixed. It was an arrangement I definitely didn’t mind, because she wasn’t charging me for food. After our conversation, she went upstairs to clear out the closet enough for me to sleep. Eventually, she came back down, proclaiming that the space was ready for habitation.
I decided I needed to sleep early. The room was directly across from playroom and right next to the bathroom. It was a windowless storage room, but I didn’t mind as that kept it plenty dark. High stacks of boxes flanked a pathway to the bed which had obviously just been made up for me. The sheets and blankets were a hodgepodge, but it looked plenty comfy, so I didn’t complain. Sitting on the bed was plain white night shirt with sleeves ending halfway down the forearm and a fluffy collars, as well as a pair of fuzzy, plaid pajama pants. I could only assume they were for me, so I discarded my top and my shorts, getting ready to redress for bed. I went for the shirt first, crisscrossing my arms and pulling it over my torso.
I then grabbed the pants, pulling them over my diaper. It was at that moment that I realized what I was missing from home; it wasn’t my phone charger, my shirts, or my toothbrush. It was my underwear. I didn’t even bother Ms. Ive about it; I knew she wasn’t going to have any other undergarments for me. I also suspected that she wouldn’t appreciate my wearing her pants without any kind of underwear, knowing how particular she was about that kind of thing. I could only seem myself in diapers for at least the next two days if I were to stay there, and I sunk at the thought. Sighing, I sat down my new bed, my diaper crinkling, taunting me. I wanted to tell it “I know!” but I didn’t want to appear any more crazy than I already had when I claimed a stuffed animal told me to fill my pants.
I pulled up the cover, welcoming sleep.


I like the Candyland one. I’ll use a variation of that, thanks.


Chapter 2:
I sat on the couch, head on my elbow. The water leak at my crappy apartment was draining all my mental energy. Knowing the landlord, I’d be stuck with puddles on my bathroom floor for a month at least. I just wanted something to ease my mind.
“Bea, le’‘s go ice ska’in’!” Candy jumped, throwing her hands into a wide arch.
I just looked at her, perplexed. I then smirked, my brow furrowing in confusion. It was late Spring, after all, and I couldn’t even tell you where the nearest ice rink would be. I didn’t consider the possibility that she could be talking about her pretend. “How would we do that?”
“Emmy knows a place d’at she goes do all d’e time!” Candy replied, her wide smile displaying her first missing tooth. “She said she can deach us all how to ice ska’e!”
“Oh,” I said understanding. It was the perfect way to dispel my anxiety. Sometimes I felt like getting lost in Candy’s games all day wasn’t the right move to make. I was confident that I could quit anytime, and that if something that truly needed my attention were to come up, I would be able to pull myself out of it. Till that point, the worst that had happened was that I forgot to water some plants for Ms. Ive. Luckily, she didn’t notice in time, and I was able to get them watered before I left for the day. With certainty that I could still perform my duties as babysitter, I decided to agree to the arrangement. “Okay. When are we going?”
“Can we righ’ now…?” she asked cautiously.
My eyes lit up in amusement. “As good of a time as any!”
She grinned and spun around spastically, speed walking to the play room. She got to the top of the stairs and stopped in place, looking like she had been struck by sudden inspiration. “Oh!” she called out to me, “We’re gonna mee’ up a’ the coffee shop firs’, okay?” she said, before hastily disappearing into the playroom on the left.
I smirked, standing up and following her up. I turned the corner into the room, recognizing the round table that all the girl—I mean, stuffed animals sat at. A makeshift counter was setup near the closet. As I got closer I started to recognize all the familiar faces. Zoe was listening contently as Claire absentmindedly rambled on, and Emily gave a half-hearted chuckle. Candy was sitting Between Emily and Claire, practically beaming.
Claire’s voice became audible; she was talking about the time that she nearly totaled her car because she was putting on makeup; it was a comedy that was about two centimeters from tragedy. “Yeah, my parents werepissed, pardon my French.”
“Well, it was only a dent in the end. Nothing a good kick can’t get out,” Zoe commented.
“Maybe for a Zebra,” Claire retorted, getting a hearty laugh out of everyone, “Nah, yeah, my parent’s insurance covered it somehow. I think they just told the agency it was a hit and run.” We all giggled some more, and Claire continued to lead the conversation as usual. “Yeah, my parents are actually super nice. I feel sorry for some my friends growing up, one girl from high school was always arguing with hers, and she told me she absolutely hates them. That sounds so terrible, to be in bad terms with people that should be so important to you,” Claire explained, flicking her whiskers and arching her brow. She set her elbow on the white table cloth, and brought her green martini glass to her mouth.
I breathed out. I didn’t like the conversation topic, but I wasn’t going to try and derail it. I liked to think that all my hardships had given me a sturdy psyche, and with it I could weather the storm without ruining mood.
I returned to the conversation. “Personally?” Zoe asked, rhetorically, “I don’t have a great relationship with my mom. I’ve told you how she left me and my dad when I was young, and I always took it a little personally. She tried to connect with me as much as she could, but it always felt so forced. We’re still on speaking terms, but I feel like we barely know anything about each other, and it feels a little awkward to start now.”
“Yeah, no,” Emily scoffed, “I have no clue what that’s like. My parents are fine.”
“I luf Mommy! She’s always so nice… I nefer me’ my daddy d’ough…” Candice offered, her expression falling.
“Oh, no,” Zoe replied, unsure how to respond.
I sighed. I wanted to try supporting Candice by sharing the burden. “I know that feeling. I never met either of my parents.”
“Were you adopted?” Emily asked bluntly. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to hurt my feelings, or not—I was leaning towards yes—but it definitely cut deep.
“No,” I responded coldly, hoping Emily would get how insensitive her question was.
Either she was dense or extremely mean. “Then you lived at an orphanage or something?” she pried.
“I grew up in foster care,” I replied trying to get her to shut up.
Emily looked displeased, and I shot her a nasty frown. However, it didn’t look like she was pressing the issue any further. I almost felt dumb for showing her my wounds, knowing she would find a way to stick something in them.
Meanwhile, it looked like Candice was on the verge of tears. Zoe and Claire looked similarly distraught. “Bea, d’at’s so sad! I’m so sorry!” she tried consoling me.
“It’s alright, really,” I answered, realizing that I might have upset her more with my sob-story. “I honestly don’t even think about it that much. Besides, I’ve had plenty of good role models.”
“I don’t mean to… upset you, so if you don’t mind me asking…” Zoe started, frowning, her ears slightly folded.
I knew she wasn’t going to be anywhere near as offensive as Emily, so I motioned her to continue with a nod.
“How did that happen? I know most small children get adopted pretty fast…” she ventured, “I… I apologize, I’m totally out of line for asking that…”
“No, it’s okay. You’re right. But I was raised by at leastaparent early on. I was told that I was left at the police station late one night when I was around three. I went between homes pretty frequently, and once a kid really gets the hang of talking, their chances of getting adopted start to go down. For whatever reason, I was just… passed by…” I manged to get out, almost completely dissociated. I had been tortured with the knowledge that I wasn’t a wanted child my whole life, and rather than trying to shoo away the negativity, I learned that it was better to just steel yourself to it. “And so, when I turned 16, I decided to become emancipated. And that’s that…”
The table was silent.
Claire tried to break the silence. “Bea, I’m so sorry to hear that…”
“Don’t be. It’s no one’s fault,” I lied, thinking of the faceless couple who conceived of me.
No one dared to talk. Everyone except me and Emily were just sad; Emily looked like she wanted to shout “Awkward!” while I was still trying to regain my propensity for emotion.
Eventually, Zoe got the courage to speak up. “If you ever need to talk, we’re here.”
“Thank you,” I said, sighing. “I appreciate it. Now, why don’t we get going to the rink?” I asked, trying to move everyone’s attention away from my past.
Candice was silent. She just stared at me sadly, and I wondered what was going on in her head. Even as we walked to the rink, she remained mute, occasionally glancing over at me with concern. I figured she was just worried about me, and I accepted her friendly concern.
The rest of day was enjoyable, save the incident on the ice with Emily.
===
My dreams were sporadic, and I don’t remember much but a few images. It seemed they all involved Ms. Ive and few other characters that I couldn’t quite make out, and the emotions that each picture caused were mixed.
In no time, I woke up to the sound of my alarm on my phone. It was not a welcomed sound, and I quickly shot up out of bed to turn it off. I sighed, registering my new underwear for the first time that morning. I looked around the room, and quickly noticed a wooden chair with clothes neatly folded in square, with a note that read: “Bea . . . Some clothes for you for today.”
I picked up the first garment, and saw that it was a plain, white blouse that I found rather cutesy. I pulled my own shirt off, and I contemplated where to put it for a moment, before settling on a neat pile on the floor. I figured I could just ask where to put it later.
Next I grabbed what appeared to be pink shorts, the design of which I also found pleasant, if not a bit youthful. But as soon as I looked back to the chair, my face fell. There was another diaper, exactly like the ones I had put on before. I knew that Ms. Ive had her reasons for not to give me any other underwear, and I also concluded that I could use it as a form of punishment for behaving so childishly. I sighed, dropping my pants around my ankles, before untaping my slightly sweaty undergarment and letting it fall as well. I unfolded my fresh diaper and brought it between my legs, pulling up the ends and taping it firmly.
I stepped out of my pile of clothes, grabbing the shorts again and finally pulling them up my legs.
I was mortified at the fact that the blouse was just barely too short, and no matter how I leaned, you could make out the ruffles of the diaper peeping above the waistline of the shorts. I sighed, and exited the closet, already accepting my cruel fate.
I came down the stairs, entered the kitchen, and found Ms. Ive sitting at the table with Candy, finishing her coffee. They both looked up and smiled as I walked in, and I forced a tired smiled back.
“I see you’re wearing the clothes I left you,” Ms. Ive stated cheerfully.
“Y-yeah,” I gave, conscious of my well-padded state.
“Bea? Are you wearing anof’er diaper?” Candy asked innocently.
I dropped my head in shame.
“She just doesn’t have any other underwear, so I’m sure she’ll be out of diapers soon,” Ms. Ive teased, sneering playfully.
I just blushed and tried remaining stoic, sticking a spoon into the oatmeal that Ms. Ive laid out for me, my diaper plainly on display for the teasing mother and clueless child. I tried remaining as still as possible in my seat, not wanting to bring any extra attention to my bulky underwear. I was the slowest eater, as Ms. Ive was soon finished with her coffee. She placed the mug upright into the sink. “Well, girls, I’m going to do my rounds now. I’ll be back at around four today,” she announced as she trotted by and ruffled our heads affectionately. “How does alfredo something for dinner sound?” She asked rhetorically, reaching the door.
I called back “Bye Ms. Ive, have a good day,” while Candy simply grinned wide and declared “Yum!”
Ms. Ive shut the door behind her, and me and Candy were left in silence. That was quickly amended, however, when Candy enthusiastically asked, “Wanna go play?”
I frowned at the idea. Obviously, it sounded fun, but the events of the previous day made me more than hesitant. “I don’t know, Candy…”
“Aw, come on, Emmy wan’s real bad to see you again!” she enticed.
I was dumbstruck. The part of my mind that considered itself an inhabitant of imagination land naturally found the statement endearing and it wanted to follow Candice, but the part that lived in the real world was stun-locked; Ms. Ive had told me that to her the games Candy played were real too. I wasn’t sure if that meant that imagination land was real, but it did help the mature, rational section of my brain come to terms with how real all the friends I met there felt. My imagination land and real world identities were starting to come to understand each other, and while that didn’t scare me, it required some thought.
“I f’ink Zoe and Claire are gonna be d’ere too,” she advertised further.
My imagination brain broke down the other’s defenses, and I caved. “Well, okay, but I need to finish breakfast first.”
“Yay!” Candice said, throwing up her arms before bringing her hands back down to her lap to store them while she waited.
I hurried with my meal, eating as fast as I could without feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t too hard to get done quickly, and I eventually brought my bowl to the sink and rinsed it off. Candy I followed behind me with her own bowl, and I helpfully took it from her before repeating the process.
I turned around and followed her up the stairs. Candice was wearing black dark sweat pants and subtly pink tank top, which seemed to violently clash with my pure white and hot pink borrowed garb. Even though every piece of my outfit could be “logically” explained, the whole turned out to be much more than the sum of its parts; the contrast of our outfits’ tones coupled with the crinkling, babyish garment around my groin gave me a mild yet insidious sense of shame—it wasn’t conscious, but I was distinctly more anxious than usual.
We reached the playroom, and Candy pushed the door open, revealing red marble everywhere. Pillars stood on each side of a grand staircase which branched out into three separate staircases at the top, the left and right branches obscured by the aforementioned pillars. I stepped inside, discomforted as my bare feet hit the cold marble. I took a step in the opposite direction on demand, but the only thing that lie behind me was the wet concrete of the steps outside. I sighed, turning back to the entrance hall. I saw Candy walking over to the ticket line, and I could see our friends already waiting there. My mouth curled into an casual smile, and I hurried to them, ignoring my crinkling.
Candy was already talking with them, and they acknowledged me as I came up to them.
“Lookin’ cute, Bea,” Claire complimented.
“Thanks!” I gave back.
“Me, Candy, and Zoe were thinking,” Claire spoke to me, “That we all wanted to check out the Eurasian section. And you,” she pointed at Emmy, “Wanted to go to the Western Europe exhibit, right? What about you, Bea?”
“I don’t mind either way. I’ve never been here before; it all sounds interesting,” I nonchalantly replied.
“Okay, then why don’t we split up? You and Emmy can go to the Western section first, and we’ll head to the other one. Let’s meet up at noon at that coffee shop. Deal?” Zoe schemed.
“Deal,” I gave. I would have rather went with the trio instead of Emmy, but I didn’t want to put Emmy out like that. My feelings toward her had softened, but spending time with her wasn’t at the top of my list yet.
We chatted about some other mundane and fun topics until we got our tickets and split up. In hindsight, it was a strange experience walking around in a public museum barefoot, but considering everyone else seemed to be doing the same, I felt a little less awkward. I was mostly just following Emmy, reading whatever she was reading
I came to a bronze plaque of an exhibit displaying primitive elephant and primitive bear shaking paws in agreement. The plaque described how the bears were a small tribe, and so they sought after cooperation over domination. It was an interesting blurb, and I was ready to move on to the next factoid until I felt a pang in my bladder. It wasn’t too urgent, but I also didn’t have a reason to hold it.
I pursed my lips and looked down and up the black but well lit hallway. Not seeing any sign of what I was aiming for, I decided to walk over to Emmy and ask if she knew. “Hey Emmy…”
“Yes?” she turned around, cheery.
I paused, trying to decide if I should ask the question. I remembered how upset she was when I announced my trip to bathroom at the outing; I could understand how it felt like I was teasing her, even though that was never the intention. However, I quickly realized that there was no way I was going to hurt her feelings. For one, she was in a much better mood and seemed to be less emotionally frail, and it would take a lot more to break her. Not to mention that I had already displayed and was then displaying my motion of solidarity. And if that weren’t enough, Emily herself still used the bathroom for plenty of tasks, and she would also need to know where one was eventually. Having completed all my mental gymnastics, I went on. “Do you know where a bathroom is?”
She wasn’t fazed by the question, for which I was grateful. She furrowed her brow in thought, and her whiskers bounced as she pursed her lips. “I think I remember seeing some back that way and to the left. I could be wrong.”
“Oh, thanks. Be back in a minute,” I said as I turned and left. I followed the directions she gave, until I was finally at the bathrooms in question. I walked to them, only to find a yellow chain blocking entry. From the chain hung a sign simply reading “OUT OF ORDER.” I frowned and sighed, looking up and down the wider hallway I found myself in. I rolled my eyes, and noticing that the pressure had mostly subsided, I decided to rejoin Emmy and wait until we were finished with the section of the museum before I decided to go on a bathroom hunt. I found my way back to Emmy.
We continued on through the section, stopping at nearly every little blurb. Emily seemed more thoughtful and attentive to history than I would have thought; her mean-girl-like personality didn’t seem in line with how actively she was trying to absorb the information. I wanted to enjoy it, but after the around the twentieth plaque on traditional cat garb, I started to zone out. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, it was just that I didn’t care enough to take a history lesson the subject. I can say at least that the neat pictures and dioramas managed to keep my interest the entire way through. The fact that Emmy seemed to be in such high spirits without bringing anyone down was also keeping me afloat on the boredom river; seeing her intently absorb all the text was a pleasant sight.
Somewhere between the exhibit about early Bulland and Finland, I felt another pang, and I unconsciously brought my hands to my crotch to help stabilize. I quickly retracted them, remembering I was in public. The ache was making itself noticed, and I was incorrectly disrespecting it. I just needed to hold it without making a scene; an adult such as myself could easily accomplish that task.
I stared at the exhibit, trying to take my mind off the pressure in my bladder. It worked for a moment as I got to a particularly interesting part of the explanation on the history of the animal people, but once it started getting dry again, my urge came back full force. A strange, seemingly foreign part of my mind kept encouraging me to use my diaper for its purpose, and kept telling me that no one would care, but the disgusted rational part of me shunned the other voice into temporary submission.
Emmy came over and started saying something, but what it was was hard to follow with all the stress I was under. “Well, you know, my parents were from…” she said in the background.
But I was at my limit. I struggled to retain control; my body didn’t seem to care that the thoughts of using my underwear to relieve myself were so unusual. I scrunched my face, and I was starting to bargain.If I just go pee a little bit, I can release some of the pressure.I tried only letting out a tiny amount; my plan was going smoothly for a few moments, but it quickly devolved into utter disaster. Once I started, I couldn’t stop the stream, each time I tried clenching it hurting. I was forced to let the padding soak it up, and I sighed in defeat. I felt a pang of guilt, and my throat felt dry,How could I have let that happen?.
In the end, I was left a brittle mess. Emmy was watching the whole ordeal, and realized what was going on. “Did you…?” she asked bashfully.
“Yeah…” I said, dejected, holding back a sniffle.
“H-hey, don’t worry about it. It happens,” she tried consoling me.
“Whatever,” I whispered frustratedly.
“I did too…” Emmy said shyly, before pulling open the front of her jeans. I could see her diaper, and it was presumably the same color as my own.
“Oh…” I said, still considering her words. Suddenly I felt a little bit assured. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having accidents, I reasoned, especially if it wasn’t causing me any trouble beyond slightly sagging shorts. And I could still control them for the most part, where as Emmy was stuck wetting herself without warning. “Well, I guess I’ll get back to this then,” I assured her, the my sogginess seeming to become slightly less of an issue.
We continued with our perusing of the museum. Emmy was just as enthusiastic as before, but I was starting to slow down even more. I was never a big reader; I never felt like I had time for it, and so naturally that muscle was left atrophied. Some time later, we ran into the rest of the group.
“Oh, there you guys are!” Claire called out from behind me. I turned around to see her walking alongside Zoe and Candy.
“Did Bea have another accident?” Zoe asked Candy, who looked surprised.
I blushed, giving the pair a bashful smile.
“Seems like it,” Zoe said without an ounce judgement. “Don’t worry.”
I turned to look at Candice, who started barreling toward something behind me. My head spun around to find a familiar and welcome face.
“Did you girls have another tea party?” Ms. Ive asked us. “Bea, have another accident?” she looked to me, noticing the stale air.
I froze. I didn’t respond, not even daring to look her in the eyes. Suddenly seeing her wasn’t a welcoming sight as I realized my predicament.
Ignoring my catatonic state, she walked over and patted my sagging shorts, confirming my accident. “Seems like it. You should go get changed.”
I nodded, not objecting. I clumsily and awkwardly walked over the closet, and cringed when my shorts tightened as I squatted down. I was again relieved that she wasn’t upset, but I was still conscious of the fact that Ms. Ive considered me in my soiled diapers “cute.” I wasn’t sure how anyone could consider a 23 year old woman who’s having accidents “cute,” but I wasn’t going to question it if she wasn’t angry. I reached into the closet and grabbed another infantile garment, before standing up straight and awkwardly walking down the stairs to the bathroom.
Ms. Ive stood in the doorway of the playroom and decided to follow me on my way out. “What happened today, Bea?” she asked, stopped on the bottom of the stairs.
I stopped too, blushing, remembering my inexplicable inability to hold myself from having an accident earlier, and I tried explaining the situation as best as I knew how. “A-all the bathrooms were out of order or being c-cleaned or full… and I couldn’t hold it…”
I didn’t look back to Ms. Ive, instead opting to hold my head down in shame. I could tell she was very unsettled by my seemingly mundane explanation. “I… see. We should discuss this a little more after you get cleaned. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”
I merely nodded, and she pushed on lower back, and I lurched forward. I continued my waddle to the bathroom, and quick shut the door. I started my change by dropping my shorts, and then proceeded with my change much like the previous day, sans my soiled panties. After the cleaning was done, I grabbed my next diaper and pulled it up between my legs, taping it into place.
I promptly exited the bathroom. Just as like the day before, I say Ms. Ive waiting expectantly on the couch. She was sitting up straight, hands on her knees.
I walked over to her and sat down, the padding around my bottom adding an extra cushion.
Ms. Ive started asking questions. “Are you feeling alright, Bea? You’re not sick, are you? Do you have an infection?”
“N-no, I feel… fine,” I said, feeling even more embarrassed as I admitted that my accidents were purely my own fault.
“If you’re sure about that… then alright. You know that having accidents like this isn’t normal, right?” she asked, pouring concern into the question.
“I know it’s just… just…” I croaked out.
“It’s the pretend, isn’t it?” she reckoned.
I nodded, on the verge of tears.
“Bea, I don’t want you to play with Candice tomorrow, assuming you still want to be our babysitter. I would understand if you didn’t at this point.”
“I still do!” I blurted out, uncharacteristically energetic.
“That’s good to hear. But I’m worried about these accidents. Once is a fluke. Twice is a coincidence, but three times…”
“It hasn’t happened three times!” I protested like a toddler.
“I’m not saying it has, but if it did, I would feel bad, and—” she clarified, before cutting herself off, “Ah, never mind, it would just be a shame if it were to happen again. I know it must feel embarrassing to say the least.”
There was some more silence as my cheeks steamed and skin moistened.
Ms. Ive broke the silence again. “In any case, here’s the plan. Tomorrow, I don’t want you to play with Candice. I’m going to bring you home some real underwear from the store, too. I should have done that today, but I didn’t think… well, you know.”
I averted my gaze.
“I’m just worried that your… diaper is affecting you somehow, and with my daughter’s games…” Ms. Ive trailed off, obviously perplexed herself. “I don’t know, sorry, it’s just a feeling I have. Just try and stay out of her games tomorrow. I think it would be for the best.”
I nodded. I was still shook from the whole ordeal.
Ms. Ive stood up, and asked if I wanted to help make dinner again, and I agreed.
Dinner went by without many peeps from my chair. Candy was excitedly regaling her day, while I just tried not to think about the cushion taped to my waist. I remembered my near absent mindedness the previous day and then my intrusive thoughts from just a few hours before. I wondered if I was always like that, or if it was just when I was playing pretend. Would I have had those same strange thoughts from before if I hadn’t been around Candice?
I poked my peas as Candy spoke to me with her usual childish accent. “Wha’ did you do, Bea?”
I blushed. “Just… walked around and looked at the—” I caught myself, my heart racing. The memories felt too real; for a moment, I started to realize how scary it was that I was losing myself. A lump formed in my throat.
Noticing my sudden stop, Ms. Ive tried to break the loop. “Bea? Are you alright?”
I cooled down, my panic subsiding as I looked at her face. “…Yeah, I had a fun day with Candy,” I finally finished.
“That’s good to hear.”
Dinner finished without anymore commotion as I focused on the plate in front of me, trying my best to drown out everything else.
My bedtime ritual was much the same as the night before. I changed into the pajamas provided for me, and laid in bed. I found a stuffed animal waiting for me, however. I wasn’t sure where it had come from, but I assumed that Candy had put it there to cheer me up or something. I accepted it, welcoming the soft fuzz, and wandered off to the land of dreams.
My dream was strenuous. Sweat dotted my brow as the sun irradiated the mountainside. My body was definitely screaming, “I’m not built for hiking!” while my brain was saying, “I know.” But I was there because Emmy asked me. It was another one of her hobbies that I couldn’t predict. To be fair, most people that acted like the old her were probably more into kicking sand castles than enjoying nature. Keyword most, I suppose.
I realized quickly that I had to go pee. I informed Emmy of my predicament, realizing that finding a private spot on the steep, rocky cliffs of the busy trail was going to be difficult.
“Come on Bea, you’re making such a big deal out of it. Just use your diaper and get it over with!” Emmy grouched, putting her hands to her hips.
“But… I don’t have any to change into! What if I get a rash?” I complained.
Emmy raised a brow, seeming to dismiss my concern. “You’re not going to get a rash that fast from a little pee-pee. Trust me,” her head following an arch as she emphasized “Trust me”. It was almost relieving. Seeing Emily finally return to her condescending self seemed better than her being depressed and uneasy.
I pursed my lips, still skeptical. “How do you know?”
“Really?” she asked in minor disbelief as she pulled her pants forward, revealing her own sodden padding.
I felt embarrassed that I had forgotten about her own state, and I blushed. “Fine,” I said, hoping we could move past the discussion, “I’ll do it…”
It was much like my intentional accidents in the past, and I found no resistance letting go of my control. The flow started nearly instantly; I felt my pants warm with the yellow liquid entering them, and I unintentionally breathed a sigh of relief.
Emily noticed and giggled, eliciting a blush from me. “See? No sweat. That’s what your diapers are for, and you’re the one that taught me not to be embarrassed about them in the first place.”
I smirked at her admitting I had helped her, forgetting how much Emily had changed. I chided myself at the realization, and said. “Okay. Let’s go then.”
I woke up from my troubled sleep, miraculously still clutching Emily the Tiger. I sat up in bed, mindlessly holding her hand. I stood up, feeling that my diaper was oddly sweaty, and walked over to the chair where Ms. Ive had deposited my next set of clothes. It was another blouse, except this time it had an embroidered flower across the front. I felt indifferent towards the design, and picked up what I saw next, which that day turned out to be a skirt. It was embroidered like the shirt, but instead of a flower, it was a yellow duckling. The whole skirt was a dark blue, and the two colors seems to work well together. Lastly, I found my diaper, and set my new clothes down so that I could start getting changed.
I pulled down my pants to find a new development. Realizing what it was, I froze. My diaper was yellow. What I felt when I first got out of bed wasn’t sweat, it was the soaking I had subjected my diaper to in my sleep. I was so embarrassed, that I immediately ripped of the garment and let it slap the ground between my pajamas. Having accidents in imagination land was one thing, but being a bed wetter was another entirely. I knew that Ms. Ive would be more concerned than anything, but that didn’t do anything to ease my shame.
As I stood there naked from the waist down, I noticed that I was still clutching Emily the tiger plushy in my left hand. It squeezed her leg even harder when I realized it, feeling bad about potentially dropping her.
I merely waited in silence as the urine dampening my skin cooled.
P.S.
I wasn’t really sure how to represent the flashback. I hope it’s not too confusing.


Thank you. I write slow (about half a word a day) so there’s no telling when the next one will be out, sorry about that.


Thank you.


Chapter 3:
I was stunned. I had never wet the bed. Ever. Not when I was a kid, not when I was blackout drunk, not ever. There was a deep pit in my stomach.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what Ms. Ive would think. I didn’t know whatIshould think. I only knew I didn’t feel ready to tell Ms. Ive. She vaguely warned me about a third accident. At least, to my addled mind it felt like a warning. Thinking back on it now, it seemed more like concern.
Still, I had to wonder if this even counted. The last “accidents” came when I was awake. And when it really came down to it, I didn’t think Ms. Ive would punish me. She was too kind. It made me feel warm inside thinking about it.
Regardless of everything, I wasn’t ready to tell her. I was pretty sure she’d understand and find a way to rationalize it, but I wasn’t ready to confront it myself. It didn’t make any sense, and somehow it made me feel so much worse than the other two.
So I hid it. I balled up the diaper and shoved it under the bed, just out of sight. I would get it later.
I looked to the pile of clothes. Tan shorts, a blouse, and of course another diaper.
I picked up the diaper, staring at it. I kept hold of Emily in my offhand. The item was giving me truly confusing thoughts. None good nor bad, just swirling and incomprehensible, like it was emitting psychic waves.
All the while I was still standing there with my pants down. When my butt started to feel a bit chilly, I managed to shake off the static. I unfolded the garment, wrapping myself up like before. I pulled up the shorts, and finally replaced my nightshirt.
I had to set Emily down, and it made me slightly unnerved. It just felt subtly wrong.
I was going to pick her back up after finishing my routine, but I forced myself to leave her on the bed. There was still a part of my mind that didn’t want to embarrass myself around my boss by carrying around a stuffed animal. Not that I hadn’t already been debased.
I went downstairs. Like the previous day, I found Ms. Ive and Candy sitting at the table, having their morning rituals. They noticed me and smiled, and I couldn’t help but grin back at them. My heart beat fast in elation.
The next twenty minutes were quiet and peaceful. Nothing of import was discussed, we just enjoyed each other’s company, and I liked it that way.
Then it was time for Ms. Ive to leave. I saw her out; but just as she opened the door to leave, she looked at me seriously. “Don’t forget: try to stay away from the games today, okay?”
I nodded. It wouldn’t be hard. I’d sit in the living room, far enough away from Candy that I wouldn’t be affected. Simple.
“Well, see you after work then.”
“Bye,” I said, before shutting the door behind her. I turned around, putting my hands on my hips and sighing loudly. I thought to myself about how long and boring the day was going to be without my friends.
My mood soured as I caught my thoughts.They aren’t your friends, they’re Candice’s,I thought to myself, before freezing. “No…” I said out loud, trying to correct my further mistake, “They aren’t real at all. They’re just toys.”
My lip wavered in sadness. I wasn’t sure what I was sad about, but the whole thing upset me; maybe it was having to say out loud what reality was, and still feeling like I was lying to myself.
I swallowed, and went to sit on the couch. I palmed my forehead, trying to relax.
I sat there for a long time, pondering the situation, my thoughts still too scrambled to make any sense of anything. All I knew for sure is that I was upset.
While my mind wasn’t clear, a few things were: I was still wearing a diaper. I had been for almost 48 hours. My bottom wasn’t complaining necessarily, but my mind was as I was wracked with embarrassment. I wondered how I could have agreed to stay here and wear such shameful things; I wondered why Ms. Ive had even suggested it. And then I thought back to when she called mecute. It wasn’t in a friendly way, either. Rather, it seemed more like she was talking to achild. She was significantly older than me, but I wasn’t a child.
I shut my eyes, just trying my best to think. Thinking was hard. The self help books told me that thinking was like a muscle I could train, and I wanted to believe it. But it felt like no amount of training could break past whatever barrier was in my skull at that moment: like I was trying to lift a car.
I squeezed my legs. I looked at the unplugged television. I looked at the clock. Two minutes out of eight hours had passed, and it already felt like an eternity.
I laid on the couch, curling up into a fetal position, facing the cushions. If my mind didn’t want to help me think, I’d just turn it off.
I don’t know how long I was there on the couch. But I was broken out of my trance when I heard the carpet depressing behind me.
“Bea?” Candy called out, worried.
I rolled over to face her, my hair falling in my left eye. I still wore a sullen expression.
“Do you wanna play?” she asked innocently.
I sighed. “Not today, Candy,” I said. “Sorry,” I added slowly.
“Oh… are you sure? Zoe wan’ed to ask me if you wan’ed to do somed’in’.”
The edges of my vision blurred as my world started to reframe itself. I shook my head, trying my hardest to stop it.
I was able to hold back, but it made my heart beat like a drum. I was so close to slipping again, and all she had to do was mention Zoe.
But I also realized that I could keep myself from slipping if I tried. I steadied my breath, continuing. “I’m sorry, Candy. Not today.”
“D’en when?” she asked with a twinge of sadness.
“I don’t know,” I said. And I didn’t. At that moment, there were so many things I wanted to ask her. “Candy,” I bit my lip, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I said, without the slightest drop of condescension.
“Okay,” she said curiously.
“Do you see Cl–your otter friend like me and your mom?” I asked, trying to avoid any mention.
“You mean Claire?”
There was a flash of fuzziness, but I steeled myself well. “Yeah,” I hesitated. “I mean Claire,” I tested. It seemed to not affect me when I said it while picturing the stuffed animal, at least.
“Silly. She’s y’ur friend too!” Candy giggled.
I winced as another pang of slippage hit me.I’m okay, I’m okay,I told myself. Looking back on it now, I’m surprised I never came to be afraid or resentful of Candy for causing me such distress. I guess she was just too lovable to hate. In any case, I breathed in. “I don’t know how to describe this, but to me, Claire just looks like a stuffed animal. But then when I’m playing with you, she looks like… a big, walking, talking otter,” I said, “Like she’s alive and breathing,” I hastily added.
“Silly, d’at’s y’ur imagination! You go’ a good imagination!” Candy gave a big smile and threw up her arms, outlining a rainbow with her hands.
I giggled. There was still a barrier of understanding. “Can you see them that way–with your imagination?” I prodded.
“Yeah. I can see a lodda sduff wid’ my imagination.”
“And… can you juststopseeing it when you want to?”
“D’at’s a weird quesdion…” she put her hand on her chin in contemplation. “Can you no’ do d’at?”
I was a little taken aback by her reasoning skills. “N-no,” I said. “I don’t think so. I like playing with you, but sometimes, I just get lost in the games.”
“Well don’’ worry, I’ll help you if i’ happens again!” she grinned earnestly.
I furrowed my brow. “Can you… stop it if it happens again?” I asked hesitantly.
“Stop i’? I’'s y’ur imagination, Bea!” she giggled.
I fumbled with my bottom lip in my teeth, uneasy. All I could hope for is that if I ever did get lost, Candy would realize it and help me out. Was she actually not capable of dispelling the hallucination for me?
Was it even an illusion? It certainly felt real. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t help me?
But another question hit me at that moment: why was I even staying there with Candy? Why didn’t I just leave, especially when I knew what was causing it? Before, I thought that maybe I was just going insane; I didn’t feel like I had anyone to talk about it with, so I kept it my dirty little secret. But Ms. Ive had told me the truth, and she had even told me she wouldn’t blame me for leaving. But I had told her that Iwantedto stay. Why?
The only answer that came to mind was the fact that I liked Candy and Ms. Ive a lot. I didn’t feel lonely around them. I felt… welcomed and dare I say…wantedfor the first time in my life.
At that last thought, I shook my head and squeezed my eyes.It’s just a job,I choked back.
Candy stared at me expectantly. “Y-yeah,” I said after a long pause, “Yeah, of course.”
“So… playdime?” she asked sweetly, clasping her hands together.
But I was still obligated to decline. “No, I promised your mom that I wouldn’t. I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow. Okay?”
Her shoulders slumped and her face dropped in utter devastation. “Noooo…” she whined.
“I’m sorry,” I said, honestly disappointed myself.
“I’s ok…” she sulked, “But!” she perked up, grinning.
I gave a questioning look.
“Can you a’ leasd look afder Emmy? She says she’s lonely,” Candy said.
I glared at her in confusion. Not for her question, but for the fact that she had apparently been holding Emm–Emily the whole time and I hadn’t noticed. How was that possible? Not to mention I had left her–it in my room.
I sighed. It was a mystery I wasn’t prepared to tackle, so I instead thought about her question. The thought of “looking after” the stuffed animal still made me uneasy, like it was a step in the wrong direction. I had been holding Emmy when I had my latest accident. The details of the incident were unclear to me, but the feeling of a connection to the tiger wasn’t.
Unfortunately for me, Candy’s pleading was too convincing, and I broke. “Okay,” I sighed. I grabbed the stuffed animal, and Candy celebrated like she had a won a game. I briefly worried if I was breaking my promise with Ms. Ive.
But I shook it off. I could just put Emmy on the arm of the sofa while I waited for the end of the day, and Candy would be none the wiser.
“I’m gonna go color,” Candy said as I set Emmy down beside me.
I wished her a fun time, and sat again staring in silence at the wall. I blinked slowly, all the strange, tangled thoughts returning to my mind. I glanced back over at the stuffed animal sitting completely lifeless on the couch and took a deep breath.
I noticed after some time that my eyes were feeling heavier. They fluttered as I pretended to try staying awake. Really, I just wanted an excuse to make that dull day pass faster.
My drowsiness got the best of me. I leaned back, pointlessly bargaining with myself that if I got into a more comfortable position I wasn’t allowed to sleep. Obviously, it didn’t work.
With my last ounce of wakefulness, I noticed myself drifting to the arm of the sofa that Emmy was perched upon. Not realizing it at the time, I knocked her over, and she fell behind my neck, completely unnoticed.
====
I was sitting in a dark room, a blanket over my lap, fingers greasy with popcorn butter. A movie played on the large screen in front of me. It was a good movie.
To my right, just on the other side of the popcorn bowl sat Emmy, who was munching on her own pawful of popcorn. We shared the aforementioned blanket.
At some point, I became aware of a discomfort in my bladder. I weighed my options. I could hold it, but that sounded like a bad option. I could run to the bathroom and miss something, but… also a bad option.
Emmy and I had decided to watch a movie that was only being shown once on a specific channel; no ads, no TV cuts. It was fun, until my body decided to ruin it.
But upon weighing my options, I realized that my underwear provided me a third solution. I was wearing a diaper. If I had brought it up to Emmy, I’m sure she would have just told me to relieve myself there and then; after all, she’d say, what where diapers for?
And it made sense. It had never been an issue in the past.
With my mind made up, I decided to let loose.
And rather unceremoniously, I was wet. The blanket trapped the heat, and it was difficult to notice anything was even amiss.
I easily got back into the movie; I was hardly even out of it with how smoothly I was able to take care of my bathroom needs.
But of course all good things have to end. It was during a particularly romantic scene between the protagonists that my other facilities were calling me. I cursed my body.
Of course, I could have always used my diaper. But that would be wrong. I had done it before, but that was out of courtesy. Doing it out of convenience was different, and probably worse somehow.
The feeling was getting stronger, and I was unfortunately at an impasse. Holding it would ruin the movie, and so would missing it. But using my diaper might ruin my mood, which was a lot less expendable.
I leaned over to Emmy, whispering in her ear, “I have to go to the bathroom, what should I do?”
“You can just use your diaper,” she whispered back.
“It’s… number two, though,” I eeped out, my face scarlet. There was no way. But the feeling was nearly unbearable.
“Yeah. That’s fine. I did it two weeks ago stuck in traffic. It’s not that bad,” Emmy explained quietly.
I swallowed.
I pushed, and unlike before, it didn’t take long before I felt the familiar sensation of new lumps in my diaper. It was embarrassing, but it was also over quicker than expected.
I was surprised that the diaper, pants, and blanket managed to almost completely contain the scent, and the popcorn masked what wasn’t contained. It only took a few moments after the incident for me to become content with the state of my diaper.
I went back to watching the movie, though somewhere near or after the end, I started to stir. The idyllic scene of Emmy’s dark and quiet living room faded, and the world of the living appeared through a window of hair. I sat up, trying to get my hair back into place. I smelt something off, though, and I sniffed some more to investigate. When I shifted, I realized quickly what it was. I almost remembered the dream, and I couldn’t help but feel it was related to me soiling myself. I was still trying to dispel my sleepiness, and again I found myself unable to think straight. All the sensations outside of me and the emotions inside of me were too overwhelming, and I cried. I looked at my lap, my blue skirt no longer covering the front of my stained, childish diaper. I fruitlessly tried pulling it down, but nothing could hide the source of my shame.
It took a long time for me to calm down, but I eventually built up the courage to change. But just as soon as I stood up, I was stopped dead in my tracks with fear. I had no idea how I could possibly hide my second messy diaper from Ms. Ive, not to mention the wet one I had stuffed under my bed. I had to think of a plan, and quickly.
But in my infinite wisdom, I couldn’t see a path forward. I wasn’t confident I’d be able to hide it. I could try the trashcans, but if they were empty then my cover was blown.
I gaped for air, hoping dearly I’d be able to escape unscathed.
But my fate was sealed before I even got the chance. The front door squeaked up, and in came Ms. Ive, holding several bags. She saw me, standing in the living room, motionless. I tried to avert my gaze. I really tried to walk away and fix things, but I couldn’t. A poison had worked its way into my veins and turned me into a mannequin.
“Oh, Bea, can you help me with the bags?” she asked.
I swallowed, staring at the floor, incapable of decision.
“Bea?” she repeated.
My lip wavered as I realized the forgone conclusion. “I gotta go to the b-bathwroom,” I slurred anyway, choking through a new onslaught of sobs.
I sped over to the stairs, and I tried climbing them as fast as possible.
But in my haste, my foot was misplaced, and I fell. I slid down a few steps, scraping my knees and forearms in the process.
I was thoroughly defeated. I was hurt physically and emotionally, and I just laid there in shock. It wasn’t too long after that my inconsolable crying started.
I heard Ms. Ive race to me, but I paid it no mind. She walked up a step before kneeling down beside me.
“Shhhh,” she cooed softly, “You’re okay, Bea. It’s just a booboo and an accident.”
I wailed, my eyes clouded with tears, my mind clouded with fear and shame and uncertainty.
She lightly placed her hands on my sides, turning me over, drawing me in for a hug.
I didn’t resist, and I felt myself rolling over onto my messy bottom, and another wave of waterworks beginning.
The whole time, she shushed me pleasantly, telling me things like “It’s going to be alright,” and “You’re safe.”
I don’t know how long I spent in her embrace, balling like a toddler. Eventually, I started to believe her as I calmed down. My sobbing stopped, and I could tell Ms. Ive’s shoulder was wet with my snot and tears. I felt completely ashamed.
Finally, she ever so gracefully pushed me away, but still made she to hold on to my shoulders. She said, “Do you want to get changed, Bea? I got you some new underwear.”
I swallowed, and nodded sheepishly.
“Good girl,” she stated, ruffling my hair.
I looked at her, and she giggled hesitantly. “Sorry,” she said, holding my hand, as we stood up. She guided to the base of the staircase and around the corner to the bathroom.
And just as before, I was left to my own devices to clean up. But she gave me an item I had never thought I’d be missing so much: real, adult underwear. I was so happy. They were as plain and cheap as they came, but they weremycheap panties.
With my sobs stopped, my pants clean, and a new vigor instilled in me, I left the bathroom. My mood was soured slightly as I saw Ms. Ive sitting expectantly on the couch, facing me. I liked Ms. Ive, but I knew the conversation she wanted was going to be difficult.
I sighed and walked over the couch, happy that my underwear didn’t lift me off the ground.
“Bea,” she started immediately. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I thought I told you not to play,” she scolded me.
I felt small, but I could still be confident. “I didn’t… It… happened in my sleep…” I said slowly.
“Bea, that’s…” she said, contemplating something profound. “Has this ever happened before?”
I shook my head. But I knew that hiding from her wouldn’t help. There was a mystery that not even I knew. “Well… actually…”
“Actually?”
“It happened last night. I wet the bed,” I said, my face as ripe as a tomato.
Ms. Ive was paralyzed. I could tell she was scared, possibly more so than me. I was scared ofher, but what frightened her must have been something fierce.
There was a long pause as she stared her hands. But she finally spoke. “Bea, I’m so sorry,” she croaked.
I had never seen her so distraught. Ms. Ive, my beacon of womanhood. Ms. Ive, always cheery and diligent, always with the answers, never broken.
“W-what for?” I asked in guilt. I felt likeIhad made her upset.
“My daughter. I… knew… but…” she said, the correct words not coming to her.
“It’s not her fault,” I quickly retorted. “Candy doesn’t know what she’s doing, and besides… it might not be her…” I said, trailing off.
“What?” she asked slowly, confused.
“When I… wet myself… and… you know…” I squeamishly explained, “Both those times, I was by Emmy–Emily, the stuffed tiger. And she was the one… uh… wearing diapers. I mean… I can’t explain it, but Candy was nowhere near me when… I… wet the bed, and… you know…” I struggled.
Ms. Ive seemed both hopeful and perturbed. “We need to take it away,” she whispered to me.
I looked at her in understanding.
I looked around the couch, and Emmy was nowhere in sight. “Candy must have taken her.”
I walked up the stairs and to the playroom. I noticed a distinct lack of crinkling as I did so, and it renewed my confidence. We opened the door, confronting Candy who was sitting in a small chair, drawing on a piece of paper. She was quick to suspiciously flip it over. She grinned. “Bea? Are you okay now?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yep. Have you seen Emmy?”
Candy shrugged. “I dunno. You had her las’.”
“But she wasn’t on the couch where I saw her last. So who could have taken her?” I asked rhetorically.
Ms. Ive looked at me with a raised brow.
Candy pouted. “I dunno. She’s y’urs, Bea.”
I was taken aback. “She’s not mine. She’s your stuffed animal, dear,” I condescendingly explained to Candy.
Candy just shook her head. “Nope. You brough’ her.”
I scowled. Why was Candy lying? She wasn’t my stuffed animal. Candy and I both knew that, yet she was making me doubt everything.
I started to raise my voice. “Candy–”
“Bea,” Ms. Ive cut me off sternly, “It’s okay. There’s no need to get upset. We’ll find it.”
I looked between Candice and Ms. Ive. Candice smiled brightly, on the verge of smirking, while Ms. Ive frowned worriedly. I was extremely upset.
Ms. Ive tried to assuage my fears. “What did it look like?”
“She–it was a tiger, about this big,” I said frustratedly.
“Maybe we can find it if we look,” Ms. Ive suggested with a smile.
“Okay,” I agreed, still peeved.
We scoured the house, going over every possible option and plenty of impossible ones as well. But it was no use. The stuffed animal was nowhere in sight. I wanted to cry. It didn’t help that Ms. Ive had discovered my diaper I’d forgotten to stowed away under my bed.
Once Candice was out of earshot, I spoke to Ms. Ive. “You have to believe me, it’s not mine and it was with me when I… you know…” I stammered.
Ms. Ive sighed. “I believe you, Bea. But I also believe my daughter. I don’t know what to think.”
“Have you really never seen it?” I asked.
“I don’t recall a tiger, no.”
I felt like I was going insane. “But you bought it for her…”
“I buy clothes and stuffed animals for her regularly, it’s very possible that I picked it up and forgot.”
“Ok, I guess.” The whole thing made me unbearably uncomfortable. I knew I wasn’t crazy. I just hoped Ms. Ive also knew that.
“If you see your stuffy again, I’d love to see her,” Ms. Ive tried reassuring me. Or maybe placating. In either case, it didn’t sound like she believed me.
“I just… I swear it’s real,” I pleaded.
Ms. Ive looked contemplative. Finally, she glanced downward before saying, “I believe you.”
I sighed.
“By the way, I keep forgetting to tell you, but I figure we’d split a mechanic for your car. They said they could come tomorrow morning for the lowest rate.”
“You’d do that?” I said, enamored. It was one of the nicest things anyone had offered me in a long time.
“Yeah,” Ms. Ive smiled. “It’s no problem. I get stuff comes up.”
I wanted to hug her so bad, but it just felt too awkward. I nervously bit my lip. “Thank you,” I said. “Will they need to tow it?”
“I don’t know. They said they’d come and look at it, and that they might be able to fix it here even.”
The night progressed similarly to the last one. I helped Ms. Ive with dinner. I ate dinner, but there was very little to discuss. Still, it was exceptionally nice to just spend time with Candy and Ms. Ive.
After dinner, I did some routine checks of my email and sparse social media with my phone, and then I started getting ready for bed. After I had brushed my teeth and put on my employer provided pajamas, Ms. Ive came to visit.
“Bea?” I heard after a soft knock on the door to the extra room I stayed in.
“Uhm… come in.”
“Bea… Oh, how do I approach this?”
I looked at her, confused.
“Bea, you had those accidents in your sleep… and… what if it happens tonight?”
I was crestfallen. Surely she didn’t think that I was a bed wetter. “I swear it’s not… I don’t usually–I don’t do that. It was that stuffed animal, probably, or something…”
“I know, I know. I’m just worried… what if it’s not? I believe you, but…”
“But?” I croaked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know this is humiliating. And I’m sure that I’ll just be jinxing it. I was going to ask you to wear another diaper, but I can’t. I’m afraidtheirwhat’s causing this.”
I was disappointed that a part of her thought that I needed to be back in diapers, but I was simultaneously relieved and somewhat happy that she trusted me enough to overrule that part.
“I won’t disappoint you,” I nearly saluted.
I wouldn’t disappoint her. I vowed.
P.S. I’m still working on this, and I promise that it will be finished before the heat death of the universe.


Thank you!