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Chapter 1
Whole story

Chapter Description: Whole Story

It was difficult being an Amazon; more so than the Tweeners or Littles could possibly understand.  Amazons were the standard.  The norm.  The default.  It’s why they were Amazons, and why everyone else was described in relation to them.  Littles got to be irresponsible and immature, and Tweeners could dip their toes into either pool as long as they kept their noses and bottoms clean, but Amazons?  Amazons were made of sterner and stronger stuff.  Always.

The smaller people thought that Amazons cosseted Littles and disciplined Tweeners out of some bizarre genetic defect; an overpowering nurturing instinct, perhaps due to a declining birthrate and fertility.  Rubbish.  The fact that there were always more Amazons around was proof that such norms were so much more than the last gasp of a dying race.  If anything, Littles and Tweeners were the genetic throwbacks.  Weaker and more capricious; needing infinitely more care and guidance to live quality lives.

Others among the peanut gallery thought their treatment might be something similar to a twisted and soft form of control.  In that regard they might be closer to the truth, if Jessica was being honest with herself.  As justifications went, however, it didn’t stick in her mind.  Fair was not the same as equal.  You didn’t ask a goldfish to climb a tree, so why ask a Little to act like a true adult?  You didn’t.  The fact that Littles and Tweeners who couldn’t cut the mustard were whisked away to lives of padded underpants and doting daycares was almost a kind of accommodation; a luxury even.

Amazons got no such accommodations; not as far as Jessica understood it.  Diapers and such were a white badge of shame around wide enough hips.   It was simply the way things were meant to be.  Amazons were the standard. They were strong.  They were adult.  Not just physically, but socially, too.  Strong like a top of the line vehicle right off the assembly line.  There might be different paint jobs and some different bells and whistles; one might have a spoiler while the other a hood ornament; but under the hood it was always the same high performance vehicle.

If only there wasn’t something wrong with Jessica’s engine.  Hmm...poor analogy.  More like her navigation system was off compared to adult models.

For you see, Jessica, an Amazon in her early forties, liked to wear diapers.  Wear AND use them for their intended purpose- number one and number two.  She wasn’t incontinent; there was nothing physically wrong with her.  She just got a certain kind of thrill when she filled her pants. 

One therapist suggested it was because she’d been toilet trained too early.  Another too late.  A third had literally written her a prescription for enrollment at a daycare and if not for her being on equal footing with the staff that prescription could have become highly involuntarily.

“I don’t want to be a baby,” she’d told the fourth; an older Tweener she could easily overpower if the fiasco repeated itself. “I don’t think of myself that way.”  The fact that that’s what so many of the shorter folk said too was irrelevant.  “I hate the idea of being cooed at or fussed over.”  Her nose wrinkled up a bit.  “Don’t even get me started on Little fashion.  Onesies and skirts that don’t work?  My hair tied up in ribbons?  No thank you.  Same for furniture.  No cribs or highchairs.  No toys.  None of that.”

“But you find something attractive about the sensory aspect?” The counselor asked.  “The feeling and texture?  Perhaps the juxtaposition between clean, dirty, and clean again?  Maybe even just the idea of breaking a societal norm yet otherwise retaining your independence?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Jessica had the distinct feeling that the smaller man had been reading her mind.

The fellow removed his glasses and cleaned them gingerly with a handkerchief.  “It seems to me, Ms. Stoneman, that you have a fetish.”  A fetish? A dirty sounding word.  Most mental diseases were dirty.  “For whatever reason, your mind has latched onto these sensations and associated emotions with them and inflated their importance to your well being.”

“How do I cure it?”  Jessica had asked.  “Hypnosis?  Conditioning?  How much therapy would I need to make these feelings go away?”

The therapist put the glasses back on his head.  “Quite simply,” he had told her,  “you don’t. Psychologically speaking, those methods are ethically dubious at best, and I don’t think you’d truly be happy with the results.”

“Then what do I do with-?”

“You live with it,” the Tweener said plainly.  “You either learn to live with it and accept it as one of your basic psychological needs and incorporate it into your lifestyle, you go overboard with it and make it a dominant characteristic of your personality and neglect other parts about yourself, or you hide it from yourself and others and learn to live with being unhappy.”

“But what about sex?” Jessica had asked bluntly.  “Do you realize how-?  How do I-?  Do I explain…?””  She didn’t quite have the words for it, but in general it was an unspoken fact that people confined to going potty in their pants did not tend to find the kind of love- romantic or sexual-that true adults were privy to.

“You’ll just have to find someone that you trust not to take advantage of you or misrepresent the situation.”

Jessica had paid the man double his usual rate that day.  The first half for his admittedly valuable insight; the second half for his discretion and to make up for the fact that the first session would most certainly be the last.  She had known what she’d had to do, and the Tweener couldn’t give her any extra help it seemed, so all there was left to do was fix it herself.

She was an Amazon after all

That had been over a decade ago.

Her girlfriend at the time had been less than understanding.  Breaking up with her because she didn’t want to make love to a diaper wearing baby.  Her next boyfriend had seen it as an opportunity to discipline and correct, and lovingly pulled her over his knee to spank her regularly until she’d decided to grow up.

It hadn’t corrected the problem.  If anything it had made it worse.  A part of her reveled in the shame and the endorphin rush from her bottom getting smacked was like a runner’s high.  Great.  Now she had two fetishes.  He’d ruined it when he’d suggested feeding her in a highchair he’d ordered special just for her.

Damn.  So close.  Yet so far away.  Had to cut it off before she got tricked into being adopted.  Better a free freak than a regressed one.

That relationship was five years ago.  Going on six.  Jessica had since resigned herself to a life of being an old maid.  Perhaps by the end of the year she’d complete it and adopt a shit ton of cats.

Milling’s Medical Supply was a good place to work for her purposes, too.  Quiet most of the time.  Good hours. Decent pay. The clientele tended to lean away from the babying sort. They either cared for the adult but infirm, or were infirm themselves.  The shelves were stocked with bandages, bedpans, shower chairs, canes, colostomy bags and the like. 

Diapers were present, too, but none of the tiny cutesy stuff that babies and Littles needed.  Nothing with cartoons on the crotch and what have you.  Just good performance medical supplies.  Best of all, she got an employee discount, and the owner genuinely didn’t give a toss who said adult diapers were going to as long as the money was all there and accounted for.

Milling’s used to have a jar full of lollipops for the odd man or woman who brought their child gauze shopping.  Said jar was always placed under the counter and out of sight when Jessica was on duty.  No need to reinforce return visits from certain people.  Of course, with so many baby Littles out there, the old fashioned Mommying Amazon with more cosseting urges than common sense was inevitable.

DING-A-LING!

Jessica looked up from her phone and saw the Tweener power walk in.  Based on the bright lime green shirt, matching shorts and sneakers, Jessica wasn’t surprised when she caught a glimpse of a Pull-Up peaking out.  The girl looked around just long enough to catch sight of the restroom signs, and then honed in and skidded to a halt at the threshold holding herself like a three year old might.

The clerk didn’t even bother to greet her. Any true adult that might need such protection would go to much greater lengths to conceal such a need.  No juvenile clothes.  Baggier pants that concealed any tell tale bulk or pulpiness.  The baggy cargo pants, belt, and tucked in top that Jessica was wearing spoke to such precautions. The real power was likely just behind the girl... 

DING-A-LING!

“Hello,” Jessica said before one foot was in the door.  “Welcome to Milling’s!”

The woman who stepped through was exactly what Jessica expected. Early to mid forties, around Jessica’s age.  Flecks of gray in her hair that she could politely joke was stress from permanently raising a child.  A tasteful but conservative floral patterned dress that hid any middle aged tummy that might exist and somehow accentuated her breasts. Well worn navy blue flats that had seen much use, and a diaper bag which likely doubled as a purse.

And like most Amazons who adopted even a Tweener, the woman had an air of power; likely an empty nester who couldn’t let go of that feeling, or someone building their first nest later in life. The bright pink leash, likely attached to a Little who was deciding to brat it up right then confirmed any and all biases Jessica might have had.

“Excuse me,” the woman asked, still only half way in, “where is-?”  Jessica didn’t wait, pointing to the naughty Tweener.  “Thank you.”

That’s when Jessica’s world went on its ear. The woman stepped in and dragged her permanent baby girl in, but when Jessica couldn’t see the top of the girl’s head, her breath retreated from her.

The girl was dressed like a Little, but she wasn’t little at all.  She was younger than her Mommy, perhaps with an age gap wide enough to imply biological relationship -maybe an errant college student being shown that she wasn’t too grown-up- but Jessica didn’t see it.  What Jessica could see was the bulging white disposable peeking out from beneath the fully embroidered and frilly dress that perfectly complemented the bows in her hair.  Based on the droop it was well used to boot.

The dress was well washed and slightly faded from use, but ironed and well cared for.  Definitely not something made recently to humiliate.  This was the kind of thing that got hung up in a closet and taken down regularly.

Incredible.  Jessica had heard of such things, mostly on the internet and always happening elsewhere, but she’d never expected to see it with her own eyes.  An AB; an Amazon Baby.

The baby girl made brief eye contact with Jessica and her cheeks flashed crimson, meaning she wasn’t completely regressed from too many cartoons.  Something in her posture and body language, though, and the hints of a smile creeping at the corners of her mouth.  She was enjoying this, being out in the open.

A therapy appointment buried under a decade’s worth of baggage since jumped up and down in Jessica’s brain. A...a...fetish?  Is that what was going on?

“Samantha! What did I tell you about-?”

“I’m sorry Mommy, but you said I could use the bathroo...I mean potty and I really gotta gooooo!”  The Tweener was dancing around on the balls of her feet like a pre-kindergartener with timing issues.  “I...I…!-”  She stopped and gasped.  “Never mind…”  She slumped and looked down at her shoes.

The woman rolled her eyes at her daughter.  She looked to Jessica for a sympathetic nod and her expression reeked of ‘Kids! Amiright?’  Naturally, Jessica shrugged and tilted her head to one side as if to signal ‘I know, right?’.

“You see, Samantha?” The woman said.  “This is what you get when you don’t wait.  If you’d waited for me to unbuckle Gwenny and then fasten her harness like I told you to, then we wouldn’t have had to have this conversation and I could have put you on the potty in time.”

Defeated, the Tweener sighed.  “Yes, Mommy.  I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“Nothing to be done about it, now,” the Mommy replied. She reached for the restroom door knob.  “We’ll just have to sit you down, and hope that you…” The woman looked inside the bathroom and blinked away confusion.

“Sorry,” Jessica apologized.  She walked from behind the counter, making sure to talk as she walked and use the sound of her voice to cover up her own crinkle.  “The bathrooms aren’t very big.”

Milling’s didn’t have a whole lot of frequent foot traffic.  The customer base was steady, but never more than two to three people at any given time and they didn’t tend to linger.  Large bathrooms to accommodate multiple people weren’t a concern.  They had restrooms, but they were closer to stalls in size.  Each one had enough room for a single toilet, a sink, a garbage can and the requisite wiping and drying paper, but not much else.  No changing stations either.  A body could change a baby Amazon or a Little Baby on the floor, but they’d have to do so on their knees.  Changing or a Tweener or another Amazon?  Honestly, Jessica had never considered.

Jessica had enough caution and sense to show up to work fresh, not mess while at work, and to have a heavy duty enough diaper where leaking wasn’t going to be a threat.  Changing while at work was something she’d never had or wanted to do. She supposed it could be done.

“I’m sorry to impose,” the woman said to Jessica.  “But would you mind looking after one of my daughters while I sort the other out?”  She was already handing the leash over to Jessica before she’d finished the sentence.

Out of habit, Jessica took it.  “Not at all, ma’am.  It would be my pleasure.”

No further transaction was needed.  “Come on, Samantha,” she said to the sulking Tweener.  “Maybe we can get some poopies out of you.”

The Tweener in soggy trainers looked over her shoulder.  Not at Jessica, but at her ‘sister’.  “Gwenny’s wet, too. Can I-?”

“Not this time, young lady.”

The door closed, and Jessica was left alone holding the big baby’s leash.  Just not for long. The girl took a few nervous half steps backward. The poor clumsy thing wasn’t looking where she was going and bumped hard into a shelf, almost knocking it down. 

Jessica ran to catch it and righted the shelf before it reached critical unbalance.   “Ooops!” the girl yelped, as packets and packets of colostomy bags and bandages fluttered down like fall leaves.  She froze up, and just stared at the ground helplessly, like a Little.

“You’re going to pick that all up, right?”  Jessica asked.

“Me?” the big baby replied. “But I’m, I’m...I’m…” she really seemed gob smacked at the notion of accountability.  “I…”

“You made a mess,” Jessica countered.  “Now be a good girl and clean it up.”  The girl opened up her mouth to reply but before she could, Jessica jammed in.  “Or don’t you pick up your toys at home?”

Something clicked behind the girl’s eyes.  A kind of desire, or hunger.  Strange yet familiar.  “Yes, Ma’am.” 

With Jessica behind her, holding the leash, the big baby shuffled and waddled down the aisle she’d almost ruined and started picking up the mess, bending over and squatting down; picking up packages by armful and hastily putting them on the shelves. It was a sloppy job and Jessica would have to tidy up more after they’d left, but it was good enough in the short term.  The fact that she was reading the shelf labels signaled that the twenty something still knew how to read.

Jessica got a nice peek at the girl’s wet and padded bottom every time she knelt or bent, too.  Admittedly, it was a nice view.  She even knew the brand.  Had some in the store, for the rare adult incontinent that was neither adopted nor bedridden and could change themselves.  Jessica was wearing her own pair just then; good thing the girl couldn’t hear the crinkling over her own.

“Very good, Gwenny!” 

Jessica jumped a bit, startled.  She hadn’t heard the girl’s Mommy or the Tweener in trainers come out of the bathroom.  Didn’t stop them coming.  “Here you are, ma’am,” Jessica handed back the toddler leash.

“Thank you very much,” the woman said. She looked at her Tweener daughter, and then to the girl, Gwenny.  “Thank you for looking after my baby.  Would you mind if…?”

Jessica grabbed the Tweener by the hand.  “Not at all.”  That’s all it took to send the two Amazons back into the restroom.  An uncomfortable half a minute later, the sounds of tapes coming off a plastic landing zone sounded off through the quiet store.  Minus the other accoutrements, Jessica found herself ever so jealous of the odd not-so-Little duck getting changed.

A dejected sigh; this one from the Tweener.  Jessica looked down and cocked an eyebrow.  She suspected the shorter girl resented having her hand held, but in the half instant before the girl made her expression go unreadable, Jessica caught a glimpse of something familiar.

Hunger.  The kind of hunger that had gnawed in Jessica’s brain for untold years.  Jealousy. The kind that had just panged against her right now.  Tweener girl had an almost identical expression.  Intuition whispered to Jessica that the Tweener wasn’t secretly wishing that was her on the floor getting wiped, however.  Different craving...same hunger.

“Want me to help organize the shelves?”  the Tweener asked.

Jessica looked straight ahead.  It was still a mess.  Ironically enough, it really did look like an eighteen month old had restocked the shelves.  “No.”

A cocked eyebrow.  “I can do it, you know. Just because I’m shorter doesn’t mean I’m-”

“I know,” Jessica interrupted before the Tweener could ramp up into a full blown whine fest.  “But you didn’t make the mess, so you don’t have to clean it up.”

The girl seemed a tad surprised. “That’s...a really nice way to look at it.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jessica resisted the urge to call the adoptee something condescending like ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey’.  Even in someone who didn’t particularly want kids, cosseting was still a thing.  “Samantha, right?”

Samantha nodded.  “Right.”  Her gaze traveled down Jessica’s arm.  “You don’t have to hold my hand if you don’t want to.  I can be good.”

A light and quiet chuckle came out of Jessica. “I have no doubt, young lady.  I don’t know if your Mommy would approve right now.  Especially because you just disobeyed her and ended up wetting your pants for it.” 

The girl responded by looking away.  Not beaten.  Perhaps encouraged?  Different flavors, same hunger?  Yes.  Jessica was beginning to think so.

“Your um...baby sister.” Jessica started.

“Gwenny.”

“Yes, Gwenny.  How did she…?”  How did Jessica even ask something like this? That was the real question.

Samantha shrugged and smiled. “It’s...complicated.”

“And you?”

The smile wilted slightly.  A resigned sigh hid a shudder of ecstacy.  “That’s VERY complicated.”

Girl still had her mind, too.  Same for her pride. Jessica opted not to pry.  “Alrighty then,” and Jessica decided not to say anymore.

Samantha wasn’t done yet.  “You know I can help anyways.  I don’t mind.  I’m a manager at Mommy’s coffee shop.”  Poor thing wanted her hand free.  Poor thing wasn’t gonna get it till her Mommy came out.  Jessica was in no mood for a tongue lashing from the sort of woman who very likely called managers on the regular.

“Mmmhmm…” Jessica looked straight ahead, hoping the big baby changing would be over.  At least the woman wasn’t cooing loudly or baby talking.  The sound would have bled through the door if she had. 

At least the semi-child was smart enough not to press her luck.  Jessica shifted in the quiet. 

And immediately regretted it.

The Tweener’s ears wiggled and she turned her head towards the bathroom. 

Uh oh.

When the bathroom didn’t open, she looked down at herself.  She worked her knees trying to replicate the same crinkle that she’d heard seconds ago.

Oh no.

When that failed to produce the exact results, the Tweener followed her gaze up Jessica’s arm...and then down to her waist.  “Are you…?”

“All done!”  The Mommy and her big baby came out of the bathroom.  “What do we say, Gwenny?”

“Thank you…” the baby said.

“For?”

“For letting me use your bathroom to get changed in.”

“And?”

“Also for letting me clean up the mess I made out here.”  She got a quiet pat on her head for it. 

More hunger.  Different flavor.  Whether it was chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla, an ice cream lover was an ice cream lover, (and to further muddy the metaphor none of them were Littles).

The adult of the trio took her Tweener child by one hand and held the leash for the other.  “I’m so sorry for how my children came in and how they behaved themselves.”

“Nonsense,” Jessica waved the apology off.  “Kids will be kids.  No harm done.”  Talking about fully grown people as if they weren’t; otherwise known as small talk among two dominant Amazons. That kind of patter was far easier for Jessica than interacting with the Tweener who had potty accidents.

“You’re very gracious to say so,” the Mommy replied.  “Marion Thompson,” she introduced herself.  For obvious reasons she did not offer a hand out.

“Jessica,” the clerk replied.  “Stoneman.”

“Miss Stoneman,” the woman said. “Is there anything we can buy to compensate you for your time and effort?”  When Jessica gave her a polite but slightly confused expression.  “If someone were to come into my shop and use the restroom, I’d at least want them to buy a cup of plain black coffee.”

The look on Samantha’s mug was very proud.  As if any admittal that her Mommy ran a coffee shop was the same thing as crediting her with running the place.  “I think we have some diapers in your daughter’s size that are plain and white.”

“Which daughter?” Mrs. Thompson asked. “Samantha wears extra protection at bedtime.”

Samantha threw a pleading look to Jessica.  Jessica ignored it.  “I meant Gwenny, but I think we have some in stock that would fit Samantha just fine as well.”  The expression on Samantha’s face looked like she’d just been slapped.  Sorry kid.  A job was a job.

Bagging the two packs of diapers, one adult and one Tweener, Jessica smiled contentedly on the inside.  What an afternoon this had shaped up to be.  Something to share over dinner with close friends or cats (if she had any).

The big baby, Gwenny, looked all around the ceiling as if the tiles were clouds, lost in her own thoughts. Samantha crossed her arms and huffed quietly through her mouth.  Not quite pouting, but using it as a way to self soothe.  The girl seemed adjusted enough to pull-ups, but obviously dreaded the thought of being diapered, how appropriate to her heritage.

What an interesting...family.  In a way, Jessica was a little sad that they were about to take the incontinence supplies and walk out of Milling’s and her life.

Perhaps fate had other plans. 

“Before we go,” Marion Thompson asked, “You don’t happen to babysit, do you?”

Jessica blanched.  “What?”

“Everyone is so keen on Littles these days.  There are very few people I’ve come across that interact with my children as appropriately as you have.”  She paused to look at Jessica’s beffudIement.  “The doors are very thin.  I heard you talking with them and liked what I heard.  You’re a natural.  A way with children regardless of size.  You could be a teacher.”

“Sorry,” Jessica apologized.  “I’m not a teacher.”

A card found it’s way sliding across the counter.  On one side was a phone number. “Then just be their nanny for a night.”  On the card’s flip side, she wrote another number. “I can make it worth your while.”

She looked in Mrs. Thompson’s eyes...and for the first time in several years, felt a different kind of hunger. 
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“You’re not my Mommy, you know,” Samantha said.  The Tweener was in full pout mode tonight.  Admittedly, it was still a refreshing change from the average adoptee’s behavior, swearing that they were really an adult despite the state of their dress.  The girl at least had the good sense not to try that.

Though by the average Amazon’s standards, Samantha’s underwear was still more mature than Jessica’s, for now at least. 

“It’s just a diaper,” Jessica coaxed.  “Just a bit of nighttime protection. Doesn’t mean you’re not a big girl, it’s just so that you don’t have to get up and go potty.” 

The sun had gone down.  She’d just gotten Gwenny changed and put into pink Jammies that she had no hope of escaping before morning. The girl had been unusually quiet, but her face gave away all the intimate feelings she was experiencing while Jessica had powdered her and rubbed soothing lotion all over her body.

She’d even dared to pop a pacifier into the big baby girl’s mouth and plant a kiss on her forehead before saying goodnight.  Seconds after closing the door Jessica had heard  rustling and a crinkling that she was willing to bet was more than just the average tossing and turning of someone trying to get to sleep.  Jessica had heard that kind of crinkling before in her own bed, and the vibrator on the bottom shelf of the changing table had not gone unnoticed.

Now it was half an hour later and time for ‘bigger’ of the two sisters to be put down.  Samantha wasn’t going full brat, but she was putting up slightly more than the token resistance.

“But I know how to go…” Samantha stopped herself, flustered. “I just, it’s just...”

Jessica took pity on her.  “Your Mommy locks the door and won’t let you out at night, will she?”

The pull-up wearing woman stared in disbelief as if Jessica had shared a great but unspoken truth with her.  “Yeah…”  They might be bigger than most people their age who end up in diapers, but Marion Thompson’s children still had a great deal in common with the Littles: Most of this wasn’t really their idea to begin with.

Jessica held the diaper and lightly clapped it against her open palm; almost fanning herself. “We both know that your Mommy wants you to wear this, though.  I heard her say as much yesterday.  If you’re not wearing a wet one of these tomorrow, I won’t be babysitting you again, but you’ll be the one getting in trouble.”

That hit home.  Reluctantly, Samantha looked over her shoulder, toward the hallway that led to the shared nursery both adult children were forced to share.  Slowly she dug her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and Jessica wasn’t sure if she’d hike them up harder or pull them down like a good girl.

Thinking quickly, Jessica walked to the front door and dug the changing mat out of Gwenny’s diaper bag.  “I can help you get dressed here so we don’t wake Gwenny.” She was already laying the mat out on the floor and unfolding the diaper. 

Samantha seemed confused, and her fingers clutched on the waistband of her shorts and disposable panties even tighter.  “Huh...?”

“It’s simple,” Jessica said.  “You’re the big sister.  That means that you have certain privileges.  You might get to see the baby get changed, but the baby never gets to see you.”

The pants came down. Jessica guessed right.  Point: Stoneman.  Another hurdle presented itself just as quickly.  “I can put it on myself…?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sammy,” Jessica took a chance at a cuter nickname.  “These things are hard to put on by yourself. You could leak.”

Samantha didn’t object, though a second later Jessica wished she’d had.  It would have been a better distraction.  “How would you know?”

Jessica shouldn’t have worn that night.  Wearing the diaper was stupid.  Even with  the baggy pants and a layer of granny panties to try and muffle and restrict the crinkling sound.  Wetting it while feeding the girls dinner had been even dumber.  If Mrs. Thompson caught her she’d already proven herself to be the type that didn’t make exceptions based on size...

Thankfully the older Amazon was mentally quick on her feet.  “I work for a medical supply company, honey,” she said.  “Most of my regular customers are nurses or nursing home attendees.  People talk.  Need I say more?”

This seemed to satisfy the girl’s curiosity.  Reluctantly she sat down on the open diaper and laid back.  “Can you at least skip the powder, please?” she asked.  “I don’t want to smell like a baby.”

“Suit yourself,” Jessica shrugged, already pulling the diaper up and taping it on.  “But don’t come crying to me if you get all hot and chafing.” 

Jessica had a feeling that Samantha wouldn’t mind that much at all.  True to her word, she put the Tweener down in the big toddler bed and tucked her in.  Then woke Gwenny up just long enough to change her in her crib with the railing down.  Wet, but not soaked.  Jessica made sure to say a lot about how tiny and babyish Gwenny seemed, unable to make it even an hour without wetting. 

Soon after she closed the door, Jessica heard two sources of rushed crinkling...
*************************************************************************************
“So,” Mrs. Thompson asked when she returned.  “How was it? How were they?”
“They were good,” Jessica reported.  “We’re still in the honeymoon stage, but I think they were trying to find where the line was and if they could cross it with me.”

Marion Thompson seemed interested.  “How so?”

How to explain this tactfully?  The girls honestly were very good.  As adults, there had been hints of challenges throughout the early evening.  Judged on the merits of children, they were very close to being perfect angels with only minor and understandable missteps.

“Oh Gwenny was being very passive whenever it came time to pick something up or get changed.  I think she was hoping I wouldn’t notice something or forget.”

“That sounds a lot like Gwenny,” the Mommy conceded.  “I think she likes the attention of getting noticed.”

“Me too.”

“What about Samantha?”

“A little more bratty,” Jessica conceded. “Nothing deserving of time out or a spanking.  Just not immediate or enthusiastic cooperation.”

Mrs. Thompson sighed.  “Yes.  I think she’s going through a phase.  She used to be much more careful in how she spoke.  I think she sees her new place as a demotion of sorts, poor thing.”  The tone of the woman’s voice signaled that she thought nothing could be further from the truth.

“Sammy’s a good kid,” Jessica agreed. “She just wants to feel like certain things are her idea.”

The lady of the house cocked an eyebrow. “Sammy?”

The babysitter’s lips retreated back over her teeth.  “Sorry.  I tried the nickname on for size and she didn’t object.”

“Interesting,” Mrs. Thompson’ tilted her chin up.  “Very interesting.  You have a good point though.  I don’t think she’ll ever be truly ready for big girl panties ever again, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be babied as much as her sister.  Thank you for the insight.”

“How was your dinner, by the way?” Jessica asked.  She didn’t really care, but it was polite to inquire.  That and some part of her just wasn’t ready to go home yet.  This strange yet oddly conventional family was some kind of beautiful trainwreck in her psyche.  Not wanting to look away, but not entirely because of how awful it was.  Living art? 

The smile on the lady's face became thinner, and retreated from her eyes.  “It was fine,” she said.  Just nice to get out of the house and have a quiet breather.  You know how it is.”

She didn’t.  “I do, indeed.”  Everything was a quiet breather. “Sometimes it’s just good to gather your thoughts and reflect…”

“Thank you again,” Mrs. Thompson repeated the sentiment.  She started digging into her purse when her nose twitched.  “Before you go, however.”

“Yes?”  Jessica asked.

Mrs. Thompson’s eyes flitted over to Gwenny’s changing pad, still there on the living room floor.  “Why don’t you lay down?”

“Lay down?”  Jessica’s heart started pounding.

“You’re wet, dear.  I can’t very well let you go home soggy.  It would be irresponsible of me.”  

Run! Run!  Jessica’s brain was screaming at her to run.  She knew!  Somehow she knew!  Despite the bagginess of her pants.  Despite the extra layers to hide the crinkle.  Despite wearing the max odor control brand, another Amazon knew she was wearing a diaper!  If she laid down on that changing mat, there’d be a third occupant of that nursery by the end of the night.

Mrs. Thompson’s hands launched out and gently cupped Jessica’s cheek.  “It’s okay,” she whispered.  “You don’t have to panic.”  The words had the opposite effect and Jessica felt herself starting to hyperventilate.

“I...I...I...I…!”

“Shhh-shh-shh-shhh-shh.” The other woman’s voice was calm and reassuring, but not cooing or condescending.  “It’s okay.  I know all about it already.”

“You do?”  Jessica’s voice was almost a whisper itself.

“Of course I do.  The baggy pants?  The light crinkle?  I figured it out the other day.  Samantha, too.”

“I need to...I should…”

“You should lay down and let me do you the kindness,” the beautiful lady said sensually.  “Then you should take your pay, and my phone number, and go home.”

Jessica laid down the mat.  It was big enough for Gwenny, so it was big enough for her.  She didn’t remember, stepping over to it, but she must have been guided that way as she was being talked down.  “Okay…”

Mrs. Thompson shuffled over to the Amazon sized diaper bag and took out the plain white diaper.  “I’m guessing you didn’t bring your own, “ she said.  “You’re much too careful for that.”  Hearing it made Jessica feel good and tingly.  “You’re very lucky,” Mrs. Thompson continued.  “All of the diapers under Gwenny’s changing table already have cute colorful stickers put on them.”

“I noticed…” Jessica blushed. 

“That wouldn’t do anything for you, though.”  This was stated as fact.  Good thing, because it was a fact.  “Pants down please.”

“Oh, yeah.” Her blush deepened and she planted her feet and boosted her hips so she could shimmy all the barriers out of the way and down past her knees.

“An extra layer to muffle things,” the other adult noted.  “Clever.”

“Thanks…”

Thompson kneeled down beside her.  “You needn’t bother with it next time.”

“Next time?”

In reply the tapes ripped off and Jessica sucked in her breath.  Oh goodness this was amazing!  She’d been toilet trained so long ago that she’d forgotten what it was like to have another pair of hands reach down and pull open the front of a soaked diaper.  It felt so strange to have someone else calmly take a wet wipe and caress her most delicate of areas and sensitive parts. 

Even more amazing was that there was no accompanying baby talk or motherese.  Jessica had never known an Amazon to not talk to their Littles and babies during a diaper change; it’s like they had to rub it in the smaller one’s face about how babyish they were.

Jessica wasn’t a baby, though. Yet she was not-so-secretly loving this. Her eyes dared not close, but she kept herself calm and allowed herself the chance to enjoy this as she stared up blankly at the ceiling. The leisurely pace and the gentle instructions of “Hips up, please.  Okay, now down,” gave Jessica the hint that this was more than just a bit of friendly business. 

Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking...

“No powder, please.”

“It’s alright,” Mrs. Thompson assured her.  “This is my own bottle.  Powdered cornstarch without the scent.”

“Your own?”

Thompson must have known what Jessica was thinking.  “I don’t wear anything like that, but it makes for good deodorant and prevents makeup from smearing without smelling like a Little.”  Jessica wasn’t sure how to feel about that.  “Don’t tell Sammy, though,” she winked.

The slight hiccup of a giggle that escaped Jessica made the other woman’s eyes light up.  The part where she drew the fresh diaper up and taped it up came too soon.  For both of them.  “All done.”  She reached down and offered Jessica her hand.  Jessica took it and stood back up.

“Next time,” Mrs. Thompson said. “Leave the concealer panties at home.”  She went back to her purse, and took a large amount of money.from a clip.

Jessica finished tugging her pants back up her hips.  “Next time?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Thompson replied.  She handed a wad of bills to the clerk playing sitter.  “You’re the first sitter I’ve had that’s managed to get both girls down to bed without screaming or yelling at them.”

“How did-?”

“The live nanny cams I have don’t record sound, but I’m very good at reading body language.” The woman replied confidently. “Including when someone is unconsciously yanking at the waistline of her pants during feeding time.  A nice flowing dress might serve you better in the future.”  Jessica would have been offended had she not busied her eyes counting the money.

“This is more than we agreed upon!” Jessica gasped.  “Much more!”

“A tip for a job well done.”

“I can’t accept this!”

In reply, the other woman bent over and picked up the balled up used diaper.  She turned around and walked off to the nearest garbage can in the kitchen.  “If you think it’s too much, you can give it back to me...”  Her back was turned as Jessica peeled off a few bills and put them in her pocket, determined to give the rest back.  “...by taking us out to dinner…”

“Dinner?” Jessica echoed dumbly.  “Us?”

The diaper went in with an audible thunk.  “If you’d like.  You. Me.  And the girls.”

“Like a...a...date?”

“Do you think it’d count as a date even if there was a baby and a potty trainer along for the ride?”

“Yes!”  The swiftness and enthusiasm with which she replied, surprised even Jessica.

“Then yes.” Mrs. Thompson said.  “Let’s call it a date.”

“And will we do,” she felt herself huffing, “this again?”

A trickster’s smile and a goddess’s glare. “Probably not in the restaurant,” Mrs. Thompsons said.  “Definitely not in front of my daughters.  They need to still see you as an adult.  But I’ll never let you go home wet.”

Jessica dry swallowed and closed her eyes.  “What about...messy?”

The owner of the house led her to the door and gave her a kiss on the lips. “Goodnight, Miss Stoneman.”

***********************************************************************************
Two months.  Two glorious months.  Had it really been that long? It seemed like just yesterday the Thompsons had stumbled into Milling’s and she’d taken the babysitting job on the whim.  Now so much more than a whim.

Two months. Only two months?  Was it really only so short?  She felt like she’d known Marion and the girls forever and that lonely sad woman in desperate need of either friendship or cats was another person entirely.  It certainly felt like she was talking about a time long ago.

She looked up at the coffee shop’s entrance and admired the sign.  “Le Grand Bebe Cafe,” she liked the way the words rolled out of her mouth.  The renaming of the place had been her idea.  She’d been thrilled when Marion agreed to it. 

“It’s what we’ve become known for,” Marion agreed. “Might as well snatch up the name and embrace it before the imitators turn into competition.”

Wow! She was thinking of her girlfriend as Marion, instead of Mrs. Thompsons.  Double wow!  She was thinking of Marion as her girlfriend!  It’s amazing what things one took for granted.

Nervously, she smoothed out  the pleats in her ankle length skirt.  Today might be the day.  Correction: It would be the day, just the day of what, Jessica wasn’t sure.  Was self-sabotaging as nervous as proposing?  It definitely felt like it.

“Good morning, Jessica,” Samantha called from the counter as Jessica walked in. The girls were working today.  On work days, Samantha wore adult clothes over her Pull-Up and acted as the front’s Manager, ignoring the snickers and sneers from the bigger employees.  If someone in Pull-Ups was bossing them around, what did that make them?

“Good morning, Samantha.” Jessica returned the greeting.  A bit of a mechanism that Jessica had thought to introduce to the dynamic: on the clock, she was Samantha.  Off the clock, she was Sammy.   It wasn’t quite an adult courtesy; more of a desire not to make the poor girl’s life any harder.  It had the added bonus of acting as a warning system to the girl when she was getting overconfident.

Being called “Sammy” at work warned her that if she wanted to remain at work she’d mind her manners while a full blown “Samantha”’ off the clock signaled that she might be acting a bit too big for her britches. 

Samantha had adapted well to the signals and no formal explanation had been required; the girl was quite intuitive after all.  She also seemed to accept Jessica’s place in their lives.  Having another trusted adult around made it so that she had someone else she could ask to take her potty and avoid wetting her pants.

Gwenny waddled out in her skimpy dress and drooping diaper, handing coffee to a customer.  “Good morning, Jessica!”

Jessica blanched almost comically.  “Jessica?”

“Sorry!” Gwenny said, looking abashed. “I mean, Good Morning Auntie J!”  Sammy didn’t have to use the infantilized term of address no matter what.  Gwenny did.  The difference between pre-kindergarteners who could behave themselves and babies who didn’t know any better. 

Jessica suspected that Gwenny messed the moniker up on purpose, enjoying the feeling of being corrected.  The giggling whispers of patrons who witnessed the exchange signaled that at least someone was enjoying it. “Mommy’s in the back.”

Jessica looked over to the Tweener for confirmation.  “She’s right,” Samantha said.  “Our Mommy is in the back. I think it has something to do with rebranding and advertising?” Whenever possible, Gwenny always said ‘Mommy’ and Samantha said ‘My Mommy’ or ‘Our Mommy’.  A name versus a title. Oh, the nuance! 

Nuance was something Jessica deeply craved.  The past sixty days or so had been wonderful.  Just not perfect…

“Uh ohhhh!” One of the customers practically shouted. Jessica glanced away from the counter to witness Gwenny; knees starting to bend, fists beginning to clench, and the first hints of that far away look.  “I know what that look meeeeans!”

Everyone with two mature brain cells to rub together knew what it meant.  Gwenny’s morning coffee had caught up to her and she was pushing a load into her pants. Overlapping choruses of “Awwwwww,” mixed with giggling “Peee-yoooos,” as Gwenny defecated and desecrated herself.  Despite her size, everyone wanted a baby just like her.  They wanted her.

Not Jessica, though.  She already had Gwenny (or at least borrowed her for a few hours a week) so she wasn’t staring from a form of wanting the girl; but out of jealousy of wanting to be her.

She didn’t want the pacifiers or furniture, or cute clothes, or lack of agency.  But the freedom she had?  The freedom to just fill her pants in front of everyone, humiliated and on full display, only so that Marion would lovingly change and rediaper her?  That was hot. It was also the one thing that Marion hadn’t given her...yet.

Jessica kept hinting that it was something she’d like to try, but her girlfriend kept missing the hints.  Not quite, actually; more like ignoring the hints. Marion was uncannily perceptive.  She had to know that Jessica wanted more.

When Jessica had pressed the issue, her girlfriend had replied, “I already change one messy diaper.  I’m not terribly interested in another.”

Yet, here she was at this crossroads, ready to see where things landed if rubber met the road.  “Good baby, Gwenny!”  She gave the baby a pat on the head.  “I’m sure your big sister will change you just after her potty break.”

“Yes, Auntie J,” Gwenny replied submissively.

Jessica took the box of training chocolates and removed the lid.  “Open up.”  The baby did so and she popped one of the numbing yet bowel irritating candies into the girl’s mouth; rather like a trained seal. 

It was something that Jessica had been experimenting with.  If she was going to do this, she wanted to have an excuse, and Gwenny was a fantastic test subject to figure out how much an adult sized Amazon could take without being properly and irreversibly incontinent.  The other advantage to drawing this out was that neither Gwenny nor Samantha had a good opportunity to count how many of the drugged chocolates were missing.

Jessica hoped the half chocolate that she’d bitten into would be enough.  It wouldn’t be the same if she couldn’t feel it coming out!  She wanted to enjoy it.  The slight rumbling in her gut informed her that time might be running short if she wanted the right person to see it.

“See you in a minute, girls,” Jessica called back as her skirt elegantly swished behind her.  This was going to be so hot.  Marion would be flabbergasted to the point of infatuation when she saw this.  In the fantasies leading up to this, she always pictured Marion being so overcome that she’d take Jessica right over her desk.

“Hello, honey!” Jessica said as she popped in.

Marion didn’t look up from her ledger.  “Hello, dear.”  Her faint smile and near monotone belied the way her eyes subtly lit up when the two were alone together.  “How has your day been?”

“Oh, it’s been…” Jessica froze.  It was happening.  Her cheeks were spreading.  Her guts were pushing.  “Ooooh….” she moaned.  “What’s happening?”  She knew what, but to make this work she wanted to make it look like an accident.

A look of concerned.measure from Marion.  “Hmmm?”  The burbling and disgusting noises coming out her backside came in reply.

“Ooooooooooh!”  Jessica tried to sound distressed and disgusted as the first wave of mush exited her and started to fill the back of her already wet adult diaper.  This was particularly difficult because of how much she was turning herself on.  So intense!  So sudden!  Almost like an orgasm.  Watching Marion take it all in made it all worse in the best possible way. Jessica had to clutch her stomach, not out of pain, but.out of necessity.  Feeling the mess pour out of her and into her diaper and it spreading around against the back as she was...if she didn’t do SOMETHING with her hands she’d give the game away and start masturbating right there on the spot.

Feeling weak, her knees started to buckle, and she collapsed on the ground.  “Jessica!”  Marion moved to catch her. 

Too late.

“Mmmmmmm!”  The feeling of sitting in the dirty diaper: having it break her fall and the contents travel down down down between her legs and smoosh up between her cheeks all while sliding and oozing up towards the crack of her ass and out and around her lower cheeks, threatening to coat her hips.  It was too much.  It was all too much!  She’d done this at home, alone, but just having the woman she loved there  witnessing it  caused her to hum in something besides feigned fatigue and anguish. 

Her ruse came to an abrupt end as her bowels emptied and her first climax approached.  Jessica hadn’t meant to, but two whispered words escaped her lips.  “Ooooooh….yyyyyyeah…”

“.....”  She laid there on the ground, panting.  The sound of her own heart thundering in her ears drowned what Marion was saying “...et ….p!” 

“GET UP!  GET UP, GET UP, GET UP YOU STUPID GIRL! GET UP!” 

Marion yanked her up by the roots of her hair.  “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”  One hand on Jessica’s hair, the other one roughly yanked down her skirt, leaving her fully loaded backside out and obvious for any employee who happened to walk in.

“My desk! Now!”

In short, hurried breaths, Jessica tried to lift her leg and swing her hips over Marion Thompson’s desk; to use it like a makeshift changing table.  That’s not what her lover had in mind.  “Grab the other side, Jessica!” she barked.  “Bend over!”  Marion sounded much less like her lover right then.

She sounded furious; a howling hurricane ready to bring down the wrath of an angry irrational goddess.  Terrified, yet thrilled, Jessica bent over.  The slight scraping of the long, thick wooden paddle against the floor was the only warning she got before it thundered against her messy bottom. 

THOCK!

“FUUUUUUU-!”

THOCK!

The second swing cut her off and knocked the wind out of Jessica before she could finish swearing. 

THOCK!

Words, even swear ones, left Jessica and her body produced instead a series of wails when she had enough lung capacity to scream and muffled grunts when she didn’t.

THOCK!
THOCK!
THOCK!

Marion let up just enough to ask a question.  “Is this it?  Is this what you wanted?”

“YES!” Jessica gasped.

THOCK!

“What?!”

“YES, MARION!”

THOCK!

“Excuse me?”

“YES, MA’AM!”

THOCK!

“Come again?”

She was about to!  “Yes!  Yes Mm... M...Mah…….” No.  Jessica couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t call the woman who she was desperately in love with ‘Mommy’  “Yes, Marion.”

The sigh that flapped in Jessica’s ear was one of utter disgust.  “I can’t believe this is happening again,” she heard Marion mutter.  “Lay down.  Now.”

Jessica oozed down to the floor, feeling too weak to reach it any other way.  The room was spinning.  Her vision was blurry.  To top it all off, Jessica was just close enough to a second orgasm to be in a special kind of frustrated agony.

The sound of ripping tapes as someone else peeled them from the landing strip was no longer foreign to Jessica.  Marion had given her that gift long ago.  She luxuriated as once again, her beloved started cleaning up her shame.  Something felt different about it though. 

Less sensual.  More business.  It was probably just the adrenaline numbing her.  “Thank you,” she whispered and got no reply.  She’d make this up to Marion, she promised herself.  Later on tonight, when the children were bedded she’d fuck Marion’s brains out.  Or do that thing she liked so much with her tongue.

Marion had earned it.

“There we go,” Marion sighed, hiking the front of the fresh diaper up over Jessica’s pelvis.  Something was off in her voice.  “Baby’s all fresh and clean.”

Baby?!

Jessica looked down past her breasts.  It wasn’t a plain white diaper taped on.  It was a baby diaper; or as close as one of Gwenny’s sticker decorated nappies could get.  “Huh?” Jessica frowned  “Marion? Baby, what’s-?”

“Baby?” Marion interrupted.  “I’m not the one wearing a diaper.  I’m not the one who just got changed out of my messy Monkeez.”

Jessica’s attempts to stand up were cut off with Marion cornering her and pulling her shirt right off of her.  Somehow, her girlfriend managed to unhook Jessica’s bra, too.  Nipples turning rock hard, Jessica found herself in the middle of the floor, naked save for the fresh and infantile undergarment she’d just been put into.

Only then, looking at herself, did the forty something Amazon realize that she may have gone too far.  “Marion, please! This is a mis-”

“I’m not misunderstanding anything, baby girl.”  Again, Marion cut her off. 

“Just because I had an accident doesn’t mean I’m a baby.  I’m not a Little.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that.”  She reached into Gwenny’s diaper bag and pulled out a rattle.  Jessica felt stupid when she was handed it.  “It wasn’t an accident.  I wished for you to restrain yourself, and you didn’t.  THAT’s what makes you a baby in my eyes.”

“Honey I-”

“Mommy,” Marion corrected her.  “It’s Mommy now.  Or do you need another spanking?”

Jessica opened her mouth, and felt genuinely unsure of what she should say.  Dare she try another dose of pain and see how far down the rabbit hole she could go?  Did she really want to make Marion angrier?  She was already risking adoption, as ludicrous as it sounded.  Dumped would be better…

The door opened behind her. “Mommy,” Samantha called in.  “The supply truck is running late and we’re almost out of WHOAH!”  Jessica knew she was being looked at.  “WHAT in the…?!”

The clerk’s body heated up despite the air conditioner being on full blast.  This time it wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

“Samantha,” Marion said, flatly.  “Meet your new baby sister.”

“Oh…” It was the only thing out of Samantha’s mouth.  The girl sounded just as confused and shocked as Jessica felt.

“She’s decided with her actions that she’d be a better baby then a babysitter.”

“Oh…did she poop?”  The fact that the girl so easily predicted what happened stung more than the paddle, and not in a good way.

“I think she’s going to be even more of a LIttle than Gwenny.  Perhaps kept in just swaddling, I haven’t decided yet.  She’ll be coming home with us tonight and missing her job tomorrow.”  A pause. 

Samantha’s snotty frown infiltrated her very words. “Is she gonna be in our room?”

“Perhaps I can rig something up so she stays in my room.  A bassinet of sorts.”

“Okay…” 

They were talking over her; talking like she didn’t have any say in her fate.  Did she?  An Amazon in any kind of diaper was pretty damning evidence.  If she couldn’t do the run of shame out the door...

“Actually come to think of it, I think she will be a newborn,” Marion changed her tone.  There was now a cruel playfulness in her voice.  “Samantha, go up to the counter and get the special chocolate milk.  If little Jessica wants to just fill her diaper with mush again and again, the best thing we can do is help give her what she wants.”

Samantha’s voice likewise mutated.  “Do I get to help change her, too?  Since I’m big enough.”

“Yes,” Marion agreed.  “If you’re good.”

“NO!”  Jessica leapt to her feet.  She didn’t care that her tits were bouncing.  The rattle clattered to the floor and she turned around.  “Samantha,”  she said, mustering all the dignity that she could.  “Your mother and I need to talk.  We need to be alone, please”

“You’re not my, Mommy.”  Of course Samantha took the opportunity to say that.

Marion shooed her away before Samantha had a chance to redirect.  “Go manage the front, big girl.  I’ll deal with this.  Keep everyone out until I say so.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

The door creaked closed and they were alone.

Marion had her hands on her hips and was staring Jessica down.  Jessica mimicked her, not caring as if she was naked.  They’d already seen each other naked before.  “If you’re going to say something, you better say it,” Marion spat.

“You need help,” Jessica said plainly.  “Lots of it.”

The owner of Le Grand Bebe Cafe scoffed.  “Says the woman in a diaper.”
“Says the woman who just put me in one,” Jessica clapped back.  “You’ve got a problem.”

Marion actually seemed taken aback.  “I’ve got a problem?  I’ve got a problem?!”  The words sounded unnatural and foreign coming out of her girlfriend’s mouth.  “You were wearing diapers like a...like a...sicko before I even met you.”

“And you’re a total control freak, even by our standards,” Jessica countered.  “And that’s saying something!”

Her girlfriend blanched.  “Control?  Control?!  You started today by pretending to be a two year old who got caught behind the couch!  And you were getting off on it, too! I could tell!”

Jessica stepped forward unafraid.  “And you’re so determined to make everyone who gets the least bit close to you to call you Mommy that you try to mold and force everyone into a role that they wouldn’t have otherwise filled!  If Gwenny had any other employer she would have been punished or fired! Not adopted!  Same with Samantha.   I might have just shit myself, but you’re the one who is well and completely ANAL!”

“No one talks to me that way…” Marion rubbed her jaw as if she’d been socked in the kisser.

“Face it, hun,” Jessica said. “You have a control fetish.  Maybe even a Mommy fetish.  A cosseting fetish if that’s even a thing.”  Hearing those words come out of her mouth seemed...odd.  Bitter tasting.  Like she was suddenly channeling the psychologist from a decade ago.

“No…”  Marion didn’t seem too convinced herself. “I don’t.  I’m not.”

.“And I’ve got a fetish for…” Jessica’s tongue felt cracked and dry.  “...for occasionally losing control.  And that’s okay.”

“What about the girls?”

“We’re not talking about the girls,” she half-lied.  “We’re talking about us right now.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

The strangest, most bitter laugh came out from the diapered clerk’s mouth.  Then she said,  “I want to quit dancing around the subject for once like we’re supposed to, and to just talk about it.  Like adults!”

“You went against my wishes,” Marion steeled herself back up.  “How was I supposed to react?”

“You were refusing to meet all of my needs when I was meeting yours.  What should I have done?”

Marion Thompson tried to say something, but no words seemed to come out.  So Jessica took the opening.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Jessica said plainly.  “You make me feel strange wonderful things that I don’t remember ever getting to feel with someone else.”

The barest hint of a blush.haunted the owner.  “I may have that talent.”

“I want to be part of your life,” Jessica pleaded.  “But I want to be a part of it on my terms.  As an adult.”

“Adults don’t wear diapers….”

“You lost that offense the moment after you came home from my first time sitting.”

Marion’s lips twisted sideways.  “True enough.  But I can’t have you just shitting yourself  to get your jollies off.  It will confuse the girls.”

“So what? If I indulge you’ll dump me?”  Jessica was on the edge of pure incredulity.

A glint in the other woman’s eye.  ‘No dear,” she said.  “But I WILL punish you.”

“You’ll…?” The gears slid into place.  Even in her anger and fury, Marion Thompson was nothing if not observant, if slightly manipulative.  “Oh…”  She pursed her lips.  “Oh…punishment how?”  The throbbing sensation inside of her was beginning to get good again.

“Oh I think you just got a taste of what that punishment will be.”  Marion picked the paddle back up from her desk and swatted it lightly in the palm of her hand.  “Diaper rash will be the least of your worries with regards to your seat.”

“Deal!” Jessica realized she sounded a bit too excited.  Part of the fun of it for her, she was realizing, was the taboo aspect of it all.  Earning a punishment felt so much better than asking for one; even if by the developing rules she’d be literally asking to get her ass paddled.  Perhaps that’s why Marion was like she was...

“But,” Mrs. Thompson held up her finger.  “If you have a poopy accident again and you’re not the one to tell me first, you’ll get worse than just the spanking. It will be back to the nursery for you.”

“For how long?” Miss Stoneman asked.

Marion slumped a bit and leaned against her desk.  Jessica had seen through the oncoming loophole and instead of flinching had called her girlfriend’s bluff.  “The day,” Marion said.  “Just the day.  Or when I need someone to do that trick with their tongue.  Whichever comes first, I suppose…”

Jessica didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around the other woman.  “I love you!”

“I love you too.”The clerk bent over to pick up her bra and her blouse.  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Marion asked.

“I’m getting dressed...”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Marion wagged. “You still owe me the day.  It’s Gwenny’s play blanket for you, remember.”

A gasp of indignation.  “That agreement was not retroactive!”  Marion wasn’ flinching however.  “Fine...but only because I owe you.  Doing that right in front of you without warning was rude.”

“And the tongue thing?”

Jessica waddled over to the blanket and sat down as well as she could.  “And the tongue thing,” she promised.

The end of one story, but not of a relationship…

(Fin)