Kitty Angel

A Little Break - Day 11 / Chapter 39: Story “Can we read the book now? Please?” Lynn asked, “That one please?” “Which one?” I asked, stepping up to the shelf. It looked like she still thought she couldn’t reach it, latching onto the suggestions she liked the most every time I gave her the chance to feel little. But that made it a bit difficult, when I couldn’t see which of the books on the shelf she was wildly pointing at. I didn’t know if she knew that, and was having fun with me. Maybe she didn’t realise that all of the books were in front of her fingers. “The princess one!” she said, “With Jodi!” I found the right book and held it out in front of her. “This one?” “Yep!” she grinned. “You watched enough to read it now, and I been waiting and waiting.” “Oh, no wonder you’re so eager!” I grinned and sat down on the bed, so that she could make her own choice if she wanted to sit beside me or on my lap. She chose my lap today, and then blushed a little. Maybe she remembered the day before, but she didn’t seem to be particularly nervous about it if she did. The book was one of the STP ones, like about half of the ones on her bookshelf. This one wasn’t about the dinosaurs, or the guardians, but looked like it was a side story to the TV series. The cover showed Jodi, who I already knew to be Lynn’s favourite member of the band, talking to a blushing man in the uniform of the Nekojutsu Corporation. I wasn’t sure if he was a character I’d seen on television, or someone new. But if he worked for Neko, it was quite likely the book would hold some spoilers for the last few episodes we’d watched. I could understand now why she’d been so keen to get started on a new book. I’d learned the corporation’s secret two days ago now, so I was sure we’d have been reading this one yesterday, if she’d been old enough to follow the story at bedtime rather than being a baby. “Do you want me to read a bedtime story?” I asked, “Or can you do it yourself?” “Umm…” she opened the book to the first page, but didn’t start to read yet. “Maybe I should ask if you want to be able to read. Hmm?” “I dunno. I wanna read the book but it’s fun playing too.” “Obey!” I tapped her nose, and she didn’t even see it coming with my hand rising up from behind her. “You’re going to be so proud of being able to read, but every time you turn the page you’ll feel yourself getting littler and littler, and it gets harder to read. Obey! You’re going to find yourself getting sleepier with each page as well. At some point you won’t be able to read anymore, but that’s okay because you know I’ll start reading to you. But when you get too young to understand the story, you’ll feel my words lulling you to sleep, and you won’t be able to keep your eyes open. Does that sound like fun?” Lynn was nodding right away, as she turned past the title page to the start of the book. This certainly wasn’t a book for babies, but I thought it might be a while before Lynn couldn’t read it. The text was in bold, happy letters. Each paragraph was placed in its own space, the plain areas in a double-page illustration of Jodi’s bedroom. Lynn pointed at the first block of text, and started to read. She was a little hesitant, but I was sure she was capable of reading at this level. There were three paragraphs on the first page, and she read them all without any real mistakes, although she did get a little tongue-tied as she tried to pronounce Jodi’s family name correctly. On the second page there was a more complex picture, with fewer pieces of text. Lynn could still read them all, and she only hesitated once or twice on the longer words. I could see her lips moving as she sounded out the words one letter at a time, and then she could hesitantly say the whole thing. She was so proud every time she managed it, and I knew I‘d managed to hit the right spot with those suggestions. The third page had the man from Nekojutsu asking Anna to go on a date with him, and Jodi starting to get jealous. I was kind of curious how this was going to go, as it certainly wasn’t Anna he was dancing with on the cover, and the language used in this book seemed like it must be aimed at pre-teens who might not have such a good idea of what dating actually meant. Lynn fumbled for the next page, having a little trouble grasping just one sheet of paper. I helped her, separating the pages and putting just one between her fingers so she could still turn it herself. The story skipped straight to the date, where Anna and Franz were walking around a zoo and looking at the animals. I noticed that around the corner of the illustration, some of the background animals seemed to hint they were ready to do things that certainly wouldn’t be shown in a child-friendly illustrated book. But there was nothing improper there, just the suggestions that only an adult would understand as hinting at the scenes we didn’t see. The story instead focused on Jodi, following her big sister in the hope of finding out why she was so excited. On the next page, Lynn was starting to struggle. She couldn’t work out what a word was supposed to be. She tried to say it three times, but ended up stumbling over the syllables. And this time, she couldn’t work out what the word was supposed to be, so I decided to offer my assistance. “Do you need some help?” I asked, carefully noting which word she was up to in the text. “I’m a–” she started, and then laughed a little. “Yeah! Help!” “Okay. You can read the letters, right? So just take them one at a time.” Then I pointed out each syllable in turn. The word that had caused her so much trouble was the longest on the page, but I thought that she’d still be able to get it with a little help. The word turned out to be ‘chimpanzee’, and after reading the syllables one by one she managed to put them together into a word. That didn’t seem to help with the confused tone at all, though. “It’s a kind of monkey,” I told her, figuring that was all the detail she might need. And then I located a couple of chimps in the background of the big illustration, and pointed at them.” “Monkeys!” she said, cheerful. And then she went back to the beginning of the sentence and read it again, this time saying “monkey” instead of “chimpanzee”. She tore energetically into the last little block of text on the page, and then turned over again. This time I could see Lynn’s finger moving slowly across the page. She paused before almost every word longer than four letters, and I could see that she was starting to get frustrated. Once I saw that she didn’t read the words on the page, but made a guess what was happening from the picture instead, but I didn’t say anything. As long as she was enjoying the story, I wasn’t going to interrupt her fun. It seemed like the young Jodi was getting a little jealous of her sister. It was a theme that had been touched on occasionally in the show, with the youngest character occasionally feeling like she wasn’t really a member of the band, but it always seemed that the others did their best to remind her she was an essential part of the group. On the next page Lynn was finding it really hard to read. She stopped with her finger on a word, and turned around to face me. “Flowers,” I said, and pointed at a bunch in the picture. Lynn nodded and kept on reading from that point, not stopping to say the word herself. She was pausing in the middle of words now, and sometimes not halting between them, so I wondered how much of the story she was really understanding. After that, if she hesitated with her finger on a word I would read it out for her, and the long pauses seemed to fade away. She was getting excited about the story again, just as Jodi began a cunning plan to join in her sister’s date so she could spend more time with the charming young man. “Do you want me to read to you?” I asked as Lynn turned to page seven and sat for a moment looking at the page. After a few seconds she nodded, so I rested my index finger beneath the words and sounded them out slowly. Sometimes I could see Lynn’s lips moving as she tried to say the words with me, but it looked like she couldn’t convert the letters on the page into sounds without me talking for her. By the next page, she wasn’t following my finger anymore, and looked at all the pictures with rapt attention as I read. The page after that, she wasn’t even pretending to look at the text and her eyes were flickering open and closed. I took that as a sign, and carefully adjusted the position of my arms to make sure she couldn’t fall. I turned the page and carried on reading, while Lynn stroked the hair of the largest picture of Jodi on the page. The girl hadn’t managed to disrupt her sister’s date, but she was being bought some kind of sugary confection from the zoo’s snack shop. She adored the attention she was being given, and I could imagine a lot of girls her age would love to be treated like that. In the back of the scene I could also make out an older version of Jodi, her posture clearly implying one of her exaggerated rants about the problems of time warps. The next time I turned the page, Lynn’s head lolled to rest in the crook of my elbow, and I carefully closed the book again. With some effort I managed to lift her from my lap without waking her, and turned to put her into her bed. Then I was pulling the covers up around her, tucking her in, and making sure that she’d be comfortable for the duration of a nap. Almost as an afterthought, I picked up the book again and inserted a bookmark two pages before the last one we’d reached. I didn’t want Lynn to miss out on any of the story, if she’d been feeling too young to properly understand. I turned the baby monitor on as I left the room, and a night-light with a faint green glow even though I was sure it wasn’t yet dark enough to need it. I’ve always said it’s the little details that make a scene feel real, and I wanted Lynn to have the best experience possible for as long as she stayed here.

Notifications have been pretty weird today and yesterday. I get a popup notification to tell me there's a notification on the site… but when I click on it, I get my ISP's adult content filter, reminding me that I forgot to reconnect the VPN. Which seems kind of weird… how does the notification get through if I can't access the site? Anyway… A Little Break - Day 11 / Chapter 38: Organised It was just after noon when I saw Lynn again. She was still in the check dress, and she might have been able to pass for a petulant pre-teen with a faint veneer of frustration overlaid on her features. “Hi,” I waved. I was still at the kitchen table, and probably hadn’t moved since she went to her room, save to make a dozen cups of milky coffee. “Doing okay?” “Yeah,” she gave a little smile and a blush. “Feeling little?” “Maybe,” and this time the giggle told me that her thoughts weren’t quite so innocent as mine. “Want a spanking?” “Maaaybe,” and another giggle, before she looked down and shook her head. “I guess that means I’m not that little yet. Cute clothes, filthy mind. I’m still wondering what will happen if Clark says he can’t forgive me, he can’t get over discovering this side to me.” “You don’t need to worry about that. He’ll get it sooner or later, I’m sure. He cares about you, he just needs to get over his prejudices, and I don’t think there’s anyone who’d be willing to lose you over something like that.” “You’re so sweet. So, what’s for lunch?” “Depends if I need to feed you again. That wasn’t one of the things we discussed, so I thought I should ask if you enjoyed it before trying something like that again.” “It was great! I love that feeling where I can’t do things for myself, and I have to ask for help. I so want to ask to do that again, but…” “Embarrassed?” I guessed. “Nervous? Don’t want to overdo it? Still got work to do?” “Umm… the last one, I guess. Well, all of them. But I’m… Is it weird I’m more embarrassed by having let such a big stack of tasks pile up than I am about getting breakfast all over myself like a baby? You’ve put in all this effort to help me, but every time I think about coming down to see what you’ve got planned, I’m feeling guilty about leaving my work. And then when I think about it more, I feel guilty about sitting in my room on my own when you’ve made so much effort to help me. Like I’m letting you down or something.” “Well, you don’t need to worry about that. You just need to see the difference between real guilt, and misplaced guilt. Like, when you think about all that work, how much do you really need to do? Are you feeling guilty because you should have done more, or because you’re setting unrealistic expectations for yourself?” “You know me too well. Or maybe we got a lot in common, I guess. I think this time, I really should do some more because I’ve been relaxing a lot this week. But not too much, I promise I’ll come down before I start to get tired. Before the work starts to stress me out, too. So, is it okay with you if I’ve got my nose to the grindstone for an hour or so after lunch, and then I can play with a clear conscience?” “Of course. Anything in particular you’d like to try? There’s a few more things we discussed, but they’d mostly take more organisation. If there’s anything you want to try again, I’ll give it a shot, or I could just let you play with your dolls, or lounge in front of the television, ore whatever else takes your fancy for a relaxing afternoon.” “How about an afternoon nap? I hear most babies can’t stay awake for a whole day at once, and I wasn’t sure what that would feel like. I know from last night how easily you can put me to sleep. And I could have a bedtime story, too. Get through some more of those books, there’s too many that I want to see before I have to go… If I even end up going, of course.” “Sounds like a good plan to me. And yeah, an afternoon nap might give you some energy after you’ve been working for so long. Reset, so you can start having fun with all the youthful vitality you need. But first, I think you could use some lunch. I just noticed the clock, and I haven’t started cooking yet, so I was thinking I’d call out to order a pizza. That work for you?” “Sounds great. Quick meal, then I can get back to work, and buys us a little more time to play later. More little time, I guess. I can’t pay for anything, but…” “It’s fine. Do you want to go for this two-pizzas deal, or get a big one to share? Don’t know if I can eat a whole one. If it’s easier you could take some up to eat while you work, or bring your computer down here. Whatever works best for you, but don’t spend the whole day on it unless you really have to. I think you could use a break.” “Thanks,” she smiled, and turned to look at the menu on my computer screen. It didn’t take long to pick something we were both happy with, and we sat chatting until I heard a moped engine outside the door. We ate a little, and then Lynn piled a couple of slices onto a plate and took it up to her room. I wrote another email to Reg, trying to make further plans for a play date the next time Lynn was in town, even if we didn’t know when that was going to be. And then it was back to work, which was at least challenging enough to be interesting while I waited for Lynn to be ready. * * * “Daddy?” I heard Lynn call out as she came bounding down the stairs. I quickly finished up the document I was working on, and saved everything. I was just closing my laptop lid when she bounded into the kitchen. “I think I did good. So can we have fun now?” “Of course we can,” I patted her on the head. “You feeling like a little girl this time?” “Not very,” she answered, and I knew the blush was there without even looking. “I did some work, and… Did you have the baby monitor on? So you knew when I’d be ready?” “I turned it off. What you get up to in your room is your own business, and it sounded like you were old enough to deserve a little privacy. There are some things I’m sure I shouldn’t be listening in on.” “Spoilsport,” she giggled. “I saw the light before, and I wondered… But you can turn it back on when I’m little again. Or littlerer?” “Of course. Are you ready to be little now?” I could tell she was changing as soon as she heard the question, before her lips even shaped a clear “Yes”. Then she was laughing again, and came closer to put her arms around my waist. I stroked her hair awhile, until she seemed to have settled on how old she was going to be today. “Do you want to read your book and have a little nap?” I asked. “Or would you like to watch some television first?” “I’m not so tired,” she said, one finger coming to rest on the side of her chin in a manner calculated to indicate deep thought. “But I don’t wanna get cranky. So we can do reading, and have a little nap, and then do stuff after?” “Okay. Come on then, you can get your pyjamas on ready for naptime, and be all snuggly and warm while we read. Do you know which book you want to read?” Her only answer was the quickest nod I’ve ever seen, and then she turned away. I thought she was probably right about not needing a nap as she practically flew up the stairs. When I reached the half-landing in the middle, she ran back to encourage me to hurry, and then she was back in her room again. I quickly got to her and she was pointing up at one of the books on the little shelf. I stepped between her finger and the books, but turned around to face her. If she was going to be taking a nap soon, I thought it would be a good idea for her to get changed first. So I helped her to slip out of the dress and put on some fluffy pyjamas. As soon as she was changed, she was wriggling around on the bed, just enjoying the feel of the soft fabric. But before long she was sitting up again, pointing past me at the bookshelf.

Did something change? This is the first time I've been notified that somebody reacted to my post 😛 And even if it's only a couple of days since I posted, I think an extra supporter on Patreon justifies sharing a little more frequently. A Little Break - Day 11 / Chapter 37: Cereal “All ready for breakfast?” I asked, and got a happy, hungry nod from Lynn. Then: “Would you like to feel littler?” Another nod, and the slightest change in her posture. She wasn’t wondering if she had time to be a little girl now, she was properly back in little space and she probably wouldn’t think about work again until I told her it was time. She took my hand as we walked out onto the landing, and I jokingly asked if she needed somebody to hold onto so she wouldn’t fall downstairs. She just nodded, and held on even tighter. So that was something else I could add to help her littleness feel more real, when I’d thought about how to incorporate it. I could probably have told her right away that she should be worried about falling, but I didn’t really want to scare her. Like so many times through the week, a casual word could be the spark of an idea in my mind. When I’d thought a little more, I could surprise her with a fully developed scenario designed to help her feel cute, and she might not even remember where she’d given me the initial idea. In the kitchen, I helped her into her chair although I was sure she didn’t need it. The reins I’d used when we went to the park were clipped onto the back of the chair now, and I explained that I didn’t want her to fall out, because she was just a little baby and I wanted to make sure. Maybe I could have bought her a high chair at some point during the week, but the only place I knew where to get one of those in adult size was a professional carpenter, and that wasn’t something I could get on such short notice. She accepted the reins without complaint, and her eyes darted around excitedly as I told her she was a baby. I could tell she wanted to deny it, but she loved the feeling of being talked down to, and knowing that I could help her to feel everything she wanted. I served her up a bowl of sugar-filled additives, which had come from a box with a giant pirate on the front. I wasn’t sure if there was some logical reason for the mascot to be a pirate, but it made about as much sense as the marketing for most kids’ cereals. “Can you eat by yourself?” I asked Lynn as I offered her a green plastic spoon. “Do you think you can eat without making a mess?” She nodded, and took the spoon. She grasped it in her fist rather than holding it properly, but I was sure she’d still be able to eat. Then a second later, a flicker interrupted her proud, giggly demeanour. Something was cooking in her head, and the smile she tried next told me that the thoughts in her mind were going to be somehow devious. Or at least, they would seem sly to a child. Her mouth turned up at the edges and she finally spoke, barely managing to contain her laughter: “Nope! You said I’m a baby, so I can’t. You gotta do it for me.” “Oh, that’s a shame,” I answered without missing a beat. I’d been thinking of giving her a little treat this morning in any case, and she probably didn’t realise that she was asking for exactly what I was thinking of. “I was going to say you can have a little treat if you can finish your breakfast without spilling any on your bib.” “Bib?” she answered without giving her brain time to catch up with the words. And before she could do anything to stop me or to help me, she felt me fastening a brightly-coloured bib around her neck. It crinkled as I straightened it up, and then Lynn was looking down and trying to work out the picture on her chest. It was an STP design, of course, but unlike the vast range of infant products featuring the dinosaur ghosts, this one had a picture of Mina and Yaxley’s wedding in the middle. “Yep. A bib to stop little baby girls from dripping milk and drool on a nice clean dress.” “I don’t need a–” the answer seemed to be almost a reflex, before she caught herself and thought about how it would make her feel. She could be sure that she’d love the humiliation, and protesting about what a big girl she was seemed to be a part of those feelings. But she didn’t want to actually stop me, and I wondered if she was worrying that I might take her seriously if she protested too much. “I’m not gonna dribble,” she settled for instead. With still a little uncertainty in her tone “I’m not that little.” “Would you like to?” I asked, and watched for the first tentative movement of her head before I reached up to give her a tap on the nose. “Obey! You’re going to find that your hands aren’t as coordinated as they normally are. Your hands will be a few inches away from where you think they are, so you might miss your mouth when you’re trying to eat. It’s going to take you a lot of effort to eat, but even if you get frustrated you’re going to enjoy the challenge. Is that okay?” Her head bobbed up and down, and I could see the suggestion taking root behind her eyes. It was a little variation on the different ways I’d messed with her coordination over the last couple of weeks, and I hoped that this one too would turn out to be embarrassing in just the right way. She went to pick up her spoon again, and stared in frustration as her hand grasped beside it on the table. She made another grab, but only banged the table. Then, brow furrowed in effort, she brought her hand down to slap somewhere around where the spoon was lying. I had to admire her ingenuity there; if she could just hit the spoon, then she’d be able to hold it there while she curled her fingers around it. But it seemed that something else had caught her attention, and I couldn’t quite work out what it might be. She lifted up both hands and brought them down to slap the table again, and then repeated the process. Her fingers landed across the handle of the spoon, but she didn’t seem to care. “What are you doing, Princess?” I asked. And then I followed her eyes as she slapped the wooden surface, and saw the cereal in her bowl jump slightly with the impact. The little orange and green blobs of whatever sickly confection was included with the flakes jumped a little, and changed their arrangement. Lynn was watching them in wonder, like their random dance was the most interesting thing in the world. I didn’t want to stop her then, and I couldn’t help laughing a little at the infant mind’s ability to find entertainment in the least obvious places. She kept on banging the table, and watching the cereal in her bowl jump and dance with each impact. A few pieces jumped over the side of the bowl, but she wasn’t particularly making a mess, so I let her play until her flakes started to soften in the bottom of the bowl, and stray droplets of milk were starting to form a puddle on her mat. “I think you should be eating your cereal,” I reminded her, moving around the table to take the seat beside her. She nodded, and this time managed to grab the spoon. She took two attempts to get it in her bowl, narrowly missing on her first try, and when the spoon met her cheek she found herself dripping milk rather than eating. But she glared at the bowl of cereal rather than her hands, and reached forward to try again. The second and third spoonfuls didn’t get any closer to her mouth. Mostly she was just depositing Muchy cereal on her face,m and letting milk run down to the bib. I knw I’d been right to give it to her, because without that protection she would have needed a change of clothes as soon as we’d eaten; or she might have found the suggestion a little less effective because of some subconscious nerves. A bib gave her mind the hint that everything was taken care of, and that it didn’t matter if she made a little mess. “Do you need some help?” I asked, once a few blobs of cereal had made their way to her mouth. This time she nodded, and held out her spoon in my vague direction. I took it from her and scooped up some of her breakfast. It was already going pretty mushy, and the sugary pieces were turning into rainbow streaks in the milk, but she was happy enough to suck them off the spoon when it came in her direction. She started jerking her head forward as the spoon came closer, and it seemed that her coordination was just as bad when it wasn’t her hands she was using. So we still managed to get quite a lot of her breakfast on her face, on her bib, and on the table. But it seemed like Lynn was having the time of her life, especially when I decided to try doing airplane noises as the spoon swooped towards her mouth. It turned out I wasn’t very good at them, but she appreciated the effort and maybe thought that was even funnier. Eventually the bowl was empty, and maybe half of it had ended up in her mouth. I didn’t know for sure, but I reckoned that might be a pretty good score. Next I produced a packet of wipes and did my best to clean up her face and hands. While I did that Lynn started to tell me a story, but I wasn’t on the ball enough to notice where she was getting it from, so I just smiled and nodded to her words. It was a little harder to get her chin clean while her mouth wouldn’t stop moving, but it made a game out of even the simplest task. I thought again how much I was going to miss having her here. “Now, you have some work to do, I think?” I asked while I set about cleaning the table after breakfast. “I think. Can I play all day instead?” “You might get in trouble then. You don’t want to be a naughty girl, do you? So, would you like to grow up now?” As soon as she nodded, I could see the change in Lynn. She was more confident, more aware of herself. And she had no trouble releasing the reins around her shoulders so that she could get out of the chair. “Thanks,” she said. “That was more fun than I expected. We’ll have time to play later, though?” “I’ve got a couple of projects I’m falling behind on, and a meeting with a client. I should be done by lunch time, but if you’ve got plenty to occupy you I can keep on going until you’re ready.” “Thanks,” she nodded and smiled. “Think I’ve left some of this a bit later than I should. I mean, it’s no rush if you got something in particular on your mind, but I should probably try to get a little ahead of where I need to be.” “You really are a big girl, then. Responsibility, working out what you should do and not just what you need to do. I can respect that, and I think it’s like the hardest part of flexible working arrangements. I’m kind of in the same situation, I could get away with putting some of this stuff off for another week, but I know I shouldn’t. So come down when you’re ready, and I’m sure we can find something fun to do.” Lynn thanked me with a hug, that seemed not quite as innocent as a child, but was still a gesture of support that I didn’t feel I needed to reprimand her for. We both set off to get some work done, and I did my best to think of things I could treat her to later.

I really didn't realise how many chapters were in this book… A Little Break - Day 11 / Chapter 36: Compromise I paused to take a breath, and this time Clark wasn’t going to interrupt me. He’d run out of insults and accusations, and maybe somewhere in his mind he was lining up the things he’d been accused of years before with the possibility that I was playing golf with his boss in a week or two. And maybe that Lynn hadn’t heard that particular story either. “You always seemed like a decent guy, Clark. That’s the impression I got. We’ve chatted at so many conventions, we’ve stayed up through the night gaming. I’m not accusing you of all that stuff again, and a years-old rumour shouldn’t keep hanging over you. But you know that some people still judge you for it, whether it’s true or not. And you know that what you tell your friends now, people are going to be judging your wife for years based on your words. So this time, be careful what you say. Don’t let your insecurities make you do something stupid.” Silence, again. Better than yelling, but I couldn’t guess what was going through his mind. “I don’t want to lecture. But my advice as a friend. If you’re willing to treat her like a kid occasionally, you’ll make her so happy. Isn’t that what you want? And who knows, maybe it’s good practice for if you want to start a family. I won’t say anything about getting her to call you Daddy during sex, that’s between you guys and none of my business. But there’s no reason you can’t do some innocent play too. And if you think it’s somehow immoral because that’s what you were told growing up, then ask yourself who it hurts. The net effect on the world is that one woman is happier. You don’t have to, but you should at least think about it. And if you can’t get over the prejudices you were raised with, then don’t try to force them on her.” “I’m going to make this work,” he spoke at last. “You really didn’t do that kinky stuff? I want to trust her, I want to forgive her, but…” “You don’t need to say you forgive her. You need to say you’re sorry. You overreacted, it’s an easy thing to do, and you caused a load of problems for yourself and for Lynn. So get over it. Do the right thing.” “It’s hard to say, but maybe you’re right. I can give it a chance, anyway. See if she’ll trust me enough to say what she wants. I bet she’ll find it pretty tough after…” “She knows it’s hard to accept. And if you need help getting her to open up when she feels ashamed to say what she wants, then maybe I can help you there. Because I want to think of you both as my friends. There’s a post-hypnotic suggestion that can compel her to answer a question, even if she’s embarrassed to say what she really wants. I’ve been trying to avoid using it, because back in college that kind of interrogation really used to turn her on. If she’s willing, maybe I could give you the reins on that one, so you can get an answer. If you can convince her that you’ll only use it when it’s fun for both of you.” “I… I really don’t know what to say to that. I called to warn you off and you’re offering to help us patch things up?” “You were upset because you didn’t know the situation. Now you do, and you know that anger won’t help you. It won’t get you what you want, and it won’t help anyone else either. So, can you cut out the rage and approach your relationship like a responsible adult?” “I don’t need the whole teacher act. I’ll do the right thing. For Lynn, at least. And you sound like you’re being honest with me, but I think it’s a bit over the top to say friends after a few drunken chats at conventions when we were both barely adults.” “Maybe that’s pushing it. But I knew your face, at least, and we talked. And from the way Lynn talks about it, you’ve been trying to support her, which makes you a good guy in my book.” “Don’t tell her I called?” “Sure. If you want to take me up on that offer, you’ll have to talk about it with her first anyway. And she knows that I do things like that for friends.” “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do if she says she’s going to piss herself. I mean, wouldn’t that freak you out? You’re so calm, and I expected you to be shocked, has she already said that? Are you seriously going to be cleaning up after her like she’s a…” This time he stopped himself, and I wondered if the penny had finally dropped. “You’re going to say that real parents are cleaning up after their kids the whole time anyway, right? Something that like half the world does can’t be that terrible? I just never thought about it like that.” “Right. And if she wants to be that little, she can wear diapers. You know there’s places online that make cute babyish designs in adult sizes? If it bothers you that much, you don’t need to know about it. It doesn’t hurt you at all, does it?” I waited, and I was sure I could hear the gears turning in Clark’s mind now. Treacherous instincts trying to find something to object to, some reason to be angry. But he knew there was nothing there, nothing he could yell about without seeming like a vindictive jerk. “Have you told her that?” It wasn’t the question I expected. “About the diapers, I mean? I’m sure if she knew they made them, she’d have been looking at them months ago. I don’t want her begging me to spend money on… But if that’s all it takes to make her happy, then…” “I heard from a friend. There’s more people than you think who want to let their inner child out occasionally. She’s got a pack here, it’ll be up to her if she wants to take any home. And if she wants to tell you about it. And this time, your friendly advice from me is not to tease her about it unless she says that’s okay, and don’t mention it in front of other people.” “Yeah, I’m not that dumb. I still can’t believe this, but I think it’s not something to be angry over anymore. I need to try to understand all this instead of thinking it’s gross, and then it won’t be a big problem.” “And you actually believe what we’re telling you now? You know we’ve got no reason to lie to you. And age regression really can be just enjoying how it feels to be innocent again, or not having to worry about stuff.” “You don’t do the kinky stuff, right? I bet if you wanted to, you could have talked her into staying there for good. Easier than sorting out the mess I’ve made with all our friends. I bet she asked about sex, right? I can’t imagine her waiting until I come crawling back if she’s got a guy who’ll do all the other stuff too.” “She mentioned it. She said that combining ageplay and sex was more about pleasing you too, a compromise. I think that most of the time she prefers it without any sexual overtones. But once or twice, yeah, she’s been tempted when she’s in the right kind of mood. And you’re not going to get mad about that. Because fidelity isn’t about never wanting someone else, it’s about the feeling when you want to and you don’t do it. And if she didn’t have that self control, I would still have told her ‘no’, because I remember what she was like when you guys first got together. You’re good together, and that isn’t something to give up on so easily.” The call finished on much more amicable terms than it had started. Clark was still angry, and still wanted his wife back in the house where he knew she’d be there for him. And he still didn’t entirely believe that I could have been completely innocent for nearly two weeks. But he was willing to give us the benefit of the doubt, and he said that he’d do his best not to freak out whenever Lynn wanted to try something new. He said he was going to call her again in the evening, and that she could keep on being babied until she got home. And I promised I’d make sure I told Lynn the same offer; that if she really wanted, Clark could use some of the suggestions I’d set up to make her obey. By the time he finally rang off, I noticed that my laptop had automatically changed the timesheet for me, which meant we’d been talking for at least twenty minutes. I considered starting work again, but then heard a faint creak from the baby monitor. Lynn rolling over in bed, or stretching. Maybe she was up already. I considered throwing on breakfast, but I thought that today I’d better make sure she was comfortable first. * * * “Daddy!” Lynn squealed, and threw her arms open to demand a hug. I rushed over and held her close for just a second. Clark’s words were still on my mind, but my feelings could only be innocent when she acted so sweet. I patted her butt gently for a moment, and confirmed that her diaper was wet under the pyjamas. “Looks like somebody needs their diaper changing,” I said as I lifted her out of bed and guided her towards my room. Depending how little she was feeling right now, it might seem like I was carrying her, but today I was trying to make things a little easier on my back. As we crossed the landing I could see Lynn blushing as she realised I was right. “I didn’t feel it,” she told me. “I don’t even remember when it happened. That’s amazing!” “Embarrassed?” “Yes!” she barked back, and then raised her hands in front of her face, maybe a little more embarrassed that she hadn’t noticed those feelings until I mentioned it. “Enjoying yourself?” That one was harder to respond to. I knew the answer was yes, it was obvious in every movement she made, but she didn’t want to say that. Somewhere between the little girl who hadn’t learned shame yet, and the adult who was excited by the prospect of losing control, there was a deep well of shame that made it difficult for her to admit how much she enjoyed losing control. I didn’t ask any more questions, but helped her up onto my bed, where I’d already laid the changing mat. After her first night in diapers, I wanted to be extra sure she wasn’t going to get a rash or something. So I gave her a couple of dinosaurs to keep her occupied while I took the diaper off and cleaned her up. “Want another diaper?” I asked. “Or do you think you can be a big girl today?” “Umm…” she didn’t seem so sure. “How about you try to be a big girl? Wearing diapers too long isn’t good for you, and you might find those muscles starting to get weaker if you don’t use them. So unless there’s something in particular you want to try, I think it would be a good idea to take a break every so often.” “Okay!” One of the dinosaurs helped her to show me a thumbs-up gesture, and two huge grins. I helped her into her clothes, and as I did I realised just how easily this had come to feel normal. A couple of weeks before, I’d been too nervous to dress Lynn because I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep my cool. But now I’d done it a couple of times, and even bathed her, without any improper thoughts. She didn’t have the body of a child, but she ceretainly had the body language, and that seemed to make all the difference, at least for me. I wondered if Clark would be finding the same feelings when he plucked up the courage to actually treat her like a Daddy. I hoped so; Lynn’s life would be so much more comfortable if her husband could actually understand as well as playing along. “I can do work this morning,” she said, while I was wondering what she should be wearing today. “Or this afternoon. After breakfast anyways.” “I already tried some of my work,” I told her. “I should do more, though. Maybe you can be a little bit littler while we eat, and then you can be a big girl after that. Okay?” “Okay!” she responded cheerfully, so I figured that she wouldn’t need to think anymore about her work for a while. I lifted up her feet one by one and put some knee-length socks with rainbow stripes on them. It took some time to pull them up straight, but eventually we were both satisfied. I pulled her upright, and then she stretched her hands into the air so that I could remove her nightshirt and put her in a dress. The one I chose had a green check pattern that looked kind of like what girls seemed to be wearing to school if they weren’t old enough to be subject to a uniform yet.

Thanks 🙂 Always good to know I'm hitting the mark. And, having just found out I'm losing my house… here's the obligatory note that I'd really appreciate it if anyone liked this story enough to buy the book on Amazon or support me on Patreon. Every little helps 🙂 But on a lighter note, here's the next chapter. Unfortunately not quite so fun this time, but… A Little Break - Day 11 / Chapter 35: Wakeup Call I woke up pretty early, with the first rays of light streaming through the gap in the curtains to illuminate my face. I hadn’t quite closed them the night before, reasoning that while I’d had quite an early night, I could stand to wake up at dawn for a change. I always found changes in the light could wake me up more comfortably than the jarring buzz of my alarm, so it was a good way to start the day. The first thing I did was pull on my dressing gown to check on Lynn. The door to the guest room was open, and I walked slowly inside. I was still cautious, I didn’t want to disturb her, but I knew that she might be wanting my attention soon enough. She was lying on her back with the covers draped half over her legs and half on the floor. I might have put the duvet back in place, but I reasoned that the fleecy pyjamas were probably warm enough. I could see the bulge of her diaper as well, and allowed myself a little smile as I thought about the night before. I felt I could be proud of how calmly she’d been able to drift off, after a day that could quite easily have proved disappointing or overwhelming for her. She turned her head slightly as I entered, and mumbled a couple of incomprehensible syllables through the thumb in her mouth. But a few seconds later she still showed no sign of waking, so I backed away to my own room. Today I took my laptop down to the kitchen, and sat at the table there to get a little work done. I brought the receiver for the baby monitor down as well, and turned it on. It was only the third time in a week that it had been activated it, but I didn’t want her to wake up and wonder where I was today. The first time she’d slept in a diaper, after the first day she’d worn one in her adult life, I wanted to show that I was an attentive, caring Daddy. I didn’t get that much work done before the phone rang. That wasn’t entirely unexpected; many of my clients had no idea what time zone I worked in, and would call at three in the morning with no idea if they were going to end up speaking to me or leaving a message on the machine. Out of office hours, my phone would only allow calls through from people who were in my personal address book, but there was a fancy piece of technology a friend had installed for me that automatically lifted the block when I switched on my computer and opened a slot on my timesheet. The name on the screen was Lynn’s. I wondered for a moment if she was calling me from upstairs, but I was pretty sure that she couldn’t have got out of bed and picked up her phone without me hearing movement on the baby monitor. That left one other option, given that I was pretty sure her home number was still in my phone book. “Hello?” I answered. “Morning, asshole,” Clark’s voice sneered at me. I glanced at the clock, and quickly estimated that if I needed to commute into the city for a nine-to-five grind, I would still have been in bed for another half hour. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” “No, I’m already at work,” I answered, keeping my voice as chirpy and cheerful as I could manage. “Actually, I’m doing some consulting for GC&R this week. We might even be reporting to the same boss.” The next thing I heard was an annoyed grunt, and then a brief pause. That confirmed my initial suspicions that he’d called early deliberately, in the hope of disrupting my circadian rhythms. I couldn’t really blame him in the circumstances, he was more than a little anxious when he found his masculinity threatened. But it was a real effort to remind myself that he was normally a nice guy. “So, what’s eating you this morning?” I decided I would have to move the conversation forward. “I can’t chat too long, I’ve got a meeting with Doug McKrillin later, and I need to have this presentation ready.” “I know who–” he started with what was almost certainly some witty put-down, and then cut off as his brain caught up with what he’d just said. “McKrillin?” That wasn’t technically true, and I did feel a little pang of guilt. I was doing work for the company where Clark was a middle-manager, and I knew I was starting to pick up a good deal of respect based on my work for them. But McKrillin was only a name on a list, one of many people who would find my report in their in trays. He was also a junior partner in the company, and the guy Clark would have to impress if he hoped to get promoted anytime in the near future. Regardless of how much or how little Clark had looked into my background, it was a believable story; and might help to convince him that my freeform employment status didn’t mean I was still the easygoing drifter he’d met so many years before. “Yeah. Tall guy, Italian suits. Prefers the green to the meeting room, and always suggests holding informal meetings on the golf course.” That much I knew was true, and I hadn’t actually said that I’d been invited to one of those informal meetings. That was probably a little out of my league unless I did a really good job here, but Clark didn’t know that. I didn’t want to be his enemy, but figured that would be a lot easier if I was negotiating from a position of perceived power. “Right. But this isn’t about work. My wife’s there with you, and I’m not happy.” “Yes, she’s in the spare room. I take it you don’t want me to wake her this early in the morning?” “No. It’s you I want to talk to. I want to know what you’ve been doing. I want you to know what you’re butting into, because you clearly haven’t been keeping in touch with all our old friends. The lists are buzzing about Lynn now.” “I don’t stick my nose into other people’s business. And I don’t care what other people are saying, if it’s hurting my friend.” “She wants to act like a little kid, right? Screaming ‘Oooh, Daddy!’ while you fuck her, and getting spanked for being a bad girl. It makes me sick thinking that she’s gone to someone else, and I’m never going to forget that. But maybe I can forgive her, maybe I can give her another chance. That means you’re not going to touch her now, right? I’ll come and get her at the weekend, and then we all pretend none of this happened. But let me tell you, if you’re thinking you’ve got a good thing going there, you don’t know what she’s really thinking of.” “if you think that’s what she means by acting like a little girl, then I really hope you never have kids,” I growled, dropping the attempt at civility as soon as it became clear that he had no intention of talking like adults. “But yes, she told me she wants to be a child. We’ve been to the park and I pushed her on the swings. And don’t take that as a euphemism, because that would just be childish. We baked cookies with smiley faces on. We’ve spent a whole afternoon vegging out in front the TV watching cartoons. I’ve brushed her hair and put it in bunches. We’ve been round a shopping centre and looked in all the toy shop windows, while she begs and whines to be bought things. I’ve carefully cut out pages from her colouring books and stuck them on the front of the fridge. You know, all the things you do with a little kid.” “And the sex?” “Lynn respects you too much to ask me for that kind of play. Me or anyone else. We haven’t done anything that you’d be upset about if she was your actual daughter. And I’m damn sure she’s already told you that.” “She said you hypnotised her. You wouldn’t do that with your kids, would you?” “I guess that’s different. Sometimes it helps to forget the adult behaviours, so all the childish ones can seem more real. Making her see an actual child when she looks in the mirror. Trust me, if she just wanted sexual roleplay, I think she’d have been satisfied with what you can give her. She only came here for the things you can’t offer.” “Like a–” “Like a home where she’s not being judged for what she likes. Wanting to be a kid again is a way to get a break from all the things that are stressing her. It isn’t something dirty, it isn’t somehow wrong. You can make it about sex, but to her it isn’t.” I paused for a second there, feeling the need to correct myself even if it didn’t make that much difference: “Well, sometimes she might like that, she hasn’t said. But sometimes she just wants to be babied. And if you’re going to tell me that’s not what you want to do with your wife, then you’d better accept that if you don’t want to take part in a hobby that means a lot to her, she should be able to find supportive friends.” “You still don’t know the full story, you don’t know what she really wants. It’s sick, and she needs to know that’s not what normal people get up to. You’re not helping by enabling her, she’ll just get hurt again. Where do you get off playing the white knight, you don’t even know the full story.” “I know what she’s told me, and she seems happy enough. Happier than she was with you splashing private business all over the Internet. You’re supposed to love her. You’re supposed to care about how she feels, aren’t you? I’ve seen nothing to suggest that your wife wants anything more than a way to relax. It’s not ‘normal’, it’s not ‘usual’, but when has that ever bothered you before? You’ve got a problem with her being happy, you need to take a look at your motives. If it was something you wanted to do together and she was going off to play with whoever, they you might have something to get mad about. But you’re not interested, you’re not thinking about her needs, and now you’re trying to stop her seeing her friends. You’re the one with the problem, and you need to sort out your own issues rather than trying to hurt someone who loves you.” I knew I’d said too much, but once the words started coming I couldn’t hold it back. All the anger, the indignant yelling on the other end of the phone, I couldn’t let that pass. “You won’t be saying that if she decides to piss on you!” he snapped back, “That’s not all this good clean fun you’re talking about. And then when you tell her she’s sick, she’ll go looking for someone else who’s willing to let her play baby, and she’s going to get hurt again. Don’t you go telling me what I can’t do with my wife. Because I just want her to be safe, I want her to enjoy things that’s not going to come back and bite her. That’s about not giving her some hope.” “If you think that’s disgusting, you’ve never met a baby. If Lynn can get a little comfort from being back in diapers, then what’s wrong with that? It’s weird, right? But how does that hurt you? You don’t want to be involved, fine. But as soon as you start saying she has to limit herself based on what you enjoy, that’s what seems messed up to me. This isn’t you, Clark. We’ve not chatted so much, but I saw you on the convention circuit when we were younger. We’ve put away enough beer between us that I still want to call you a friend. What you want to do, or what you don’t want to do, isn’t any of my business. But I can’t believe you really want to hurt Lynn. You said you loved her, didn’t you? You made all those vows. So now are you going to show her that you care? Do you care about her, or do you just want to own her?” “It’s depraved,” he snapped back, but there wasn’t the certainty in his voice anymore. “It’s sick. What if somebody from work found out about all this little girl stuff? It could be my job on the line if they think I’m some kind of pervert.” “So that’s why you told everybody? Even you can see that doesn’t make sense. And what about other stuff your boss might hear? Lynn wants to be a baby, something you can do in private with nobody ever seeing. The only way it impacts your work life is if you tell the world. It’s not like she’s got a habit of picking up girls and then vanishing in the middle of the night, hoping they’re too drunk to recognise her. It’s not–” “That was years ago!” he was practically screaming down the phone now, and I had to turn the handset’s volume down a little. “You can’t–” “It’s not like she’s broken someone’s finger with rough sex, and then run off without–” “That wasn’t me! How dare you–” “Listen. Lynn has found something she enjoys. And it hurts nobody. There’s a lot of things worse than that, and I think most of your friends know that. I’m not going around repeating stories from so many years ago, but if you’re going to tell me that what she wants to do is wrong, or it’s unacceptable, then I have to think about what’s acceptable to you. Where do you draw the line? Before you go calling it disgusting, look at what people might think about your interests. Before you worry what your boss might think about your partner, think what they’d think about you if they heard all the stories. To someone on the outside, it’s all just as bad. And don’t come back saying it wasn’t you, or that someone made up those stories, because it doesn’t matter what’s true. If you want to protect your reputation, it’s what people say that matters. And I could find a dozen people any day who’re willing to swear that you did terrible, disgusting things. Compared to that, how does what happens between consenting adults make any difference at all?” “I’m not–” “Keep your mouth shut. If you could do that, we wouldn’t be in this situation. You’ve hurt Lynn because you couldn’t keep her secrets, when you lose your temper so quickly if anyone mentions your own. Stop trying to blame her. Stop accusing me, and take a good look at yourself. You’re causing her a ton of extra worry by lashing out like a child. So she needs a little more help to feel calm, and if she needs help here she’s got it, right? No matter what it takes, I won’t let anyone hurt my friends.”

A Little Break - Night 10 / Chapter 34: Midnight Lynn stretched and opened her eyes. She was feeling super sleepy now, and she didn’t want to nod off in the middle of an episode. She looked across at the TV, and saw that Jodi was trying to persuade Yaxley to trust the spirit ghosts. Of course, he was having none of it. He didn’t approve of any military tactics that hadn’t been tried and tested by his grandfather, and his grandfather’s grandfather, and ancestors going all the way back to the great General Montague-Speer in the crusades. Lynn grinned as she thought about the revelation the posh idiot was going to be facing in a couple of weeks. At least she hadn’t missed the fireworks. But there was something nagging at the back of her mind. We weren’t up to this episode yet, she was sure. And Jodi shouldn’t be wearing the silly hat, because she only wore that in the comic books. Now she knew something funny was happening, Lynn looked at everything again and tried to see what else was different. Nothing unusual, she thought, except that the bean bag chair she’d been using wasn’t there. That wasn’t a big deal, because she was more comfortable in her bed where she could snuggle up under the covers. Her bed wasn’t normally in the lounge, she realised. And there wasn’t normally another Lynn chatting with me on the couch. Well, this must be a dream then. “You can if you want,” I was telling the other Lynn. “I’m amazed you trust me so much. Is there anything you wouldn’t trust me with?” “Not really, I know I can trust you. But there’s things I might have to get a bit more comfortable with before I was ready to try, you know.” Lynn knew as she heard it that those were the words she’d said a week and a half before. They seemed familiar, like deja vu, but now she was hearing the conversation like it was all new to her. “Oh? Something you’re not really sure if you want to try?” Lynn nodded at my answer. She knew that she’d been so nervous when I asked her that, but at the same time she was impressed I’d been able to read so much into her reluctance to say. “Yeah. I said it to Clark as like a joke, I didn’t really mean it. But he got real angry, and told me I was sick. He’s been mentioning it again for a couple of weeks, any time I ask for something he calls it a slippery slope. I can’t behave like a little kid at all, because he thinks I’ll always want more, and he won’t tolerate anything that might lead there. I was joking, you know? But when he kept bringing it up I started wondering how it might feel, and if that really would help me feel littler than ever. I’m not asking for that, I don’t think I’d ever do it, but I’m kind of curious.” “You’re nervous to admit it to yourself, because you’re not sure if you want it or not.” “Yeah, it’s kind of silly.” Lynn was amazed to see herself talking about it so freely; something that she’d been so ashamed of even thinking. Now she’d done it, she wouldn’t be surprised to hear what that secret curiosity was, but she still wanted to see how I’d taken it, hearing that request without any time to prepare myself for it. “Would you feel more comfortable if you told me about it? Then you’d know that I’ve heard it all, and I don’t judge you for it.” Lynn knew that when I’d asked that, she mustn’t have been embarrassed about her answer. But watching the conversation play out, she wanted to hide her head under the covers and pretend she hadn’t actually come out and asked… She realised that she’d been thinking so much about her own response that she’d missed half of her reply: “–if I told you, then you might tell me I’m more comfortable with it, and I’d end up trying it.” “Is that something you’re scared I might do, or something you’re secretly hoping I’d surprise you with?” “Maybe a bit of both, I don’t know.” “Well how about this, then. You can tell me, and I’ll remember that it’s something you’ve thought about but not something you want to actually do. And I’ll let you forget that you told me, just like the things I am going to surprise you with. It would never enter your mind that you might have mentioned it, but I’ll tell you it’s okay to think about, and you’ll know deep down that you can trust me with that secret. I won’t say anything to make you think about it, and I won’t accuse you of secretly wanting it. But if you think about it, you’ll be confident that I wouldn’t have a problem with you mentioning it.” “If you are really comfortable.” “Of course. If it disturbs me, then we’d have to think of an alternative. I don’t think there’s much that would bother me that much, unless it involves hurting someone else or permanent harm. But if it’s something you can feel safe mentioning to me, then you’d be confident of that any time it came to mind. So you could choose freely to tell me, or not, without fear of embarrassment. And if it’s OK with you, we could add a secret signal. So if you decided you want to try it but you’re embarrassed to ask, you could give me a signal that you’re not aware of, letting me know that you’re ready for that surprise.” Watching in her dreams, Lynn found herself thinking about how lucky she’d been. I hadn’t pressed her for answers, I’d tried to make her comfortable with saying it first. She couldn’t imagine most people, even most of the kinky people she knew, treating a shameful desire with so much tact. “I’d never know it was coming. That’s like even more intense control. Just thinking about that. Even if it’s not something I want to try, feeling that you could surprise me like that. Yes, let’s do that. Even just telling you, if I can bring myself to say it, that’d be such a rush of helplessness. Like, I think I want you to make me tell you some time, when I’m more comfortable, even if I don’t want it to happen. I want there to be that chance there, that someday I might ask without knowing. I’d get such a rush from knowing it’s possible, even if I don’t know I know it. If that makes sense?” Lynn knew she’d be glad if I could understand that, because she could barely make sense of it herself. It was a shame that her memories of this conversation seemed to be coming back without her own thoughts, but she knew that was probably because the internal debate going on now had gone back and forth more times than she could easily count. “I think so,” I answered after a minute. “The possibility is enjoyable even if you’re not aware of it. So I’m okay to ask you now, for the thing that you’ve been so worried about?” “Please, make me tell you? And then forget I did.” “That’s going to take another suggestion. So would you like to go deeper again?” Now Lynn was watching herself count down, and the memory was getting vague and fuzzy around the edges. Even in a flashback she couldn’t remember all of the details, but she could make out some of my words before they faded away into incomprehensibility. “So this time you’re going deep and then right back up,” I was whispering, and Lynn was nodding, timing her counting between my words. “There’s something that you want to tell me, isn’t there? Something you want to be forced to tell, even if you’re not sure if you want to make it come true? So when you wake up – Lynn felt a little jealous of herself, because she still knew how good it always felt to let her mind get so relaxed. She could almost imagine it, but she couldn’t let herself feel it because she was supposed to be remembering. She could imagine though; she knew she didn’t need to pay attention to those words, as the memory-Lynn in front of her drifted down into a deep trance. They were just the things she’d seen us agree on, rephrased as actual suggestions that she’d find herself obeying. And then she realised that she could hear herself counting up again, ready to talk to me. Some time had passed, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, and the Lynn sitting beside me on the couch was just starting to wake up. “I hardly remember… anything,” she was saying. “I told you that I want to feel like…” “Yes, you told me. And some of the things that you’d like to happen, too. You’ll remember those parts of our little chat after I’ve made your fantasies real, so that they’ll be a surprise when they happen. There was one thing you weren’t sure if you’ll ever want it to happen, though.” “Oh no,” she gasped, “I didn’t ask to…” “No, you didn’t. You just told me that you wanted me to pull it out of you, to force you to admit your guilty thoughts as a sign of my control. I know it’s not something you want to do, just a thought that’s crossed your mind, so I promise not to judge you for it. But you’ll still enjoy having to tell me. You can try to resist if you want, as I compel you to answer. Now’s your chance to say the safe word if you’ve changed your mind.” “I don’t want to do it. It’s just an expression. I was never going to… I never even thought about that. But Clark kept mentioning it, talking like all the other things are some kind of slippery slope. And then when he accuses me, I start wondering how it would feel. It’s not something I wanted, it was just a figure of speech, but…” “But now the idea’s been planted in your mind, you can’t stop wondering?” “Yeah. Are you going to make me say? Even though it’s not something we’re going to try?” “You like feeling helpless. And you want me to drag it out of you. You want me to make you say it, even though you don’t want to do it. So when I ask, you won’t be able to resist. You’ll enjoy that. And then, if it makes you more comfortable, you can forget having told me…” Lynn could see herself starting to get excited as I repeated the explanation, making it completely clear what I was offering. The thought of being so helpless, being compelled to spill her secrets, always turned her on. Watching herself go through the scene, she wondered if it had really been so obvious. All her body language made it clear she was throwing herself at me, that she hoped I would take advantage of her vulnerable state. She knew I hadn’t, though. She knew I wouldn’t, and she’d known it back then as well. She didn’t want to get too excited now; she was going to be back in childish dreams as soon as this memory was over. She turned her attention back to the memory, and to the things she was asking for, just in time to see me ask the other Lynn nodding nervously. I could only have been asking if she was ready, and she’d said she “So what’s so embarrassing to even think? What did you say that you wouldn’t even consider trying?” * * * It was a different day. Lynn was still watching herself, reliving scenes in her dreams, but now she was sitting on a chair off to one side, wearing a fluffy bathrobe. This must have been after we got back from the park, which was still one of the high points of the first week in her mind. “–actually made me feel helpless like a little kid,” she was saying, “more than like a sexual roleplay. Do you know what I mean?” “I think I do. It’s something so simple, that you can–” I answered. The Lynn in the bathrobe was nodding in agreement, happy that I understood her. The other Lynn, watching, vaguely remembered this chat, because it had been about things she’d already experienced, so she didn’t need to listen so intently until the subject changed. “Clark tickled me until I couldn’t stop shrieking, and he found it pretty funny the first time. That was fine. And then the second time I said something stupid and upset him. So he probably won’t want to go there again. But it’s not such a big deal, you know? I don’t miss it.” “What did you say?” I asked right away. Lynn knew the answer of course, but she certainly didn’t remember telling me about that, or answering that question. That would be why she was remembering these details now. ”It was something like ‘Stop! You’re going to make me pee!’. And that was the end of it all. Clark wouldn’t let me do anything babyish, if being babyish might mean wetting myself. I had a good thing and I ruined it with just a few words, that I never even meant. And now you’re going to think I’m a freak too.” “Is that why you were a bit worried at the park?” I asked, and then went on to say all the right things to reassure her. I told Lynn that I knew it was just a figure of speech, and that it was the kind of thing a little kid might say when being mercilessly tickled even if it wasn’t actually true. “If you’d actually said that,” I told her, “I would have assumed you were just adding emphasis in an attempt to stop me tickling. Or an attempt to prove that you can’t stop me, maybe. I wouldn’t assume you meant it literally. It’s the kind of thing a kid might have said in that situation, so it’s completely fine.” “But…” “But?” “I said it once. I didn’t even say I was thinking about it, I just said I might, and I never meant it. But then Clark kept on talking like I was going to do it, telling me every day that it’s totally unacceptable, and I couldn’t be little at all without him bringing it up. And the more he kept going on about it, the more I ended up wondering how it would feel. I mean, I wouldn’t actually…” “But you got curious. Yeah, you kind of told me that before. And now I know why.” “I said it? I didn’t, did I?” “I asked you if there were any things that would be too much. Childish things you’d thought of, but that you weren’t ready to actually try. And you said you’d like me to do an interrogation scene, pull the truth out of you, so I did. You’ll probably remember that interrogation someday soon, and I’m sure you enjoyed it a little.” “Oh, I look forward to it. Your questioning techniques are legendary.” Lynn could see her own grin now. She knew she must be thinking about times I’d made her answer questions in the past, and now she really couldn’t wait to remember how she’d felt when I asked that question. The room changed around her again, as if in response to her desire. Maybe it really was, because it was her dream after all. The bean bag chair was gone again, the coffee table was strewn with papers related to my work, and Lynn was still in the scruffy outfit she’d worn for the long train journey to get here. Lynn was watching, trying to work out exactly where in the timeline this particular memory came from, when my words grabbed her full attention: “So what’s so embarrassing to even think? What did you say that you wouldn’t even consider trying?” “I said I was going to wet myself,” and her hands shot up to her lips as if she could hold back the words that were tumbling out, but it was already too late. She babbled on: “I didn’t mean it, it’s just one of the things you say. I was feeling so happy, I was feeling really little, and that’s something I didn’t get often. And it’s just the kind of thing a little girl might say, to describe being so excited. I didn’t think, I just said it, I never meant it but…” “It’s something a kid might say,” I answered like I wasn’t disturbed at all, and Lynn could see herself starting to calm down. “And there’s a huge gap between saying it and doing it. Do you think it would let you feel more like a real little girl?” “Maybe. Does that make me a freak, or a pervert?” “Compared to stuff like erotic asphyxiation, branding, or macroherpetophilia? I think everybody’s into different things. And you certainly can’t be judged for a half-joking comment. So I’m going to suggest another secret signal, so if you get used to feeling more childish and you think you might be comfortable and curious enough to try that, you can let me know without having to ask or be embarrassed. Okay?” Lynn didn’t hear her own voice answer. She’d probably been too petrified to speak, but she saw herself nod just faintly. Then she carried on listening to my instructions, so glad that I was taking the lead now. “We’ve already said that when you’re feeling little, you’ll need permission to use the bathroom. And it might feel natural to use more babyish language. So how about, if you’re thinking you might like to try that, you could find yourself asking to use the potty instead, and not realise it has a special meaning. Okay?” “And then you’ll tell me I could go in my pants like a baby? If you said it was okay, without me realising I’d asked, then maybe I might be less embarrassed. I don’t know if I could go through with it even then, but…” “There’s more than one way we could do that, I’m sure. I could ask if you’d like to, and give you a free choice. I could offer to mask the embarrassment, so you only think about how little it would make you feel. Or instead of giving permission I could give you an order, and make you obey. Or I could arrange it so that when I say the right words you find yourself having a little accident, without thinking about it for long enough to be embarrassed. Or I could tell you to feel like a naughty girl, and that would be the first thing that came to mind. Could you imagine that?” I waited a little while, and Lynn eventually answered with just a nod. “Okay then. You enjoyed being forced to tell me, didn’t you?” A nod. “Would it be okay if I lead you into a deep trance again, and have you imagine each of those scenarios? Then you could decide which one you might like best, and I’d let you forget all the things we talked about. Then if someday you feel comfortable enough with the idea, you can just ask to use the potty, and I promise whichever of those scenarios you chose will come true. Would you like that?” Another nod, and she was already starting to count herself down, Lynn watched as the scene faded away. A few more words drifted through to her; ‘diapers’ and ‘bathtime’, and all the little details that had made the day so perfect. But before long, she was lying there in her bed wondering why she was still thinking. She’d relived the memory, and she knew now that the things I’d done for her had been exactly what she asked me for. I’d come through on my promises, just like she’d known deep down I would. But if she’d seen all those memories, why was she still waiting? Why was she still thinking almost like an adult, when she’d drifted off to sleep with a bedtime story? She knew she wasn’t really dreaming now, even if it felt like a dream. She’d remembered all of those scenes when she awoke in the night. So all she needed to do was remember how to feel like a child, and then drift back to sleep. She shifted position slightly, and decided it would be better to go to the bathroom before returning to sleep. She’d drunk more wine, and milk, and juice last night than she usually did. Maybe that was what had woken her in the first place, and the memories had seen it as a perfect opportunity to slip into her mind. She should get up now, but the bed was so comfy and warm. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was little or not. Did she need to ask permission if it was the middle of the night? There must be an exception for that, but Lynn was still half asleep, mind too fuzzy to remember what she was supposed to be doing. She knew she was half asleep. If she was really little, going through childhood the first time, she would probably wind up wetting the bed before she managed to wake up enough to move. That would be kind of cute, maybe, and make her feel littler even if she knew it was a very naughty thing to do. She thought about it, wondering if I’d be mad. She could just let go and pee now, and once the urge was gone she’d probably be relaxed enough to sleep right away. She could deal with everything else in the morning, maybe. And when sleep was so close she could almost feel it, she might be able to wake up wet without remembering that she’d already woken up. She shifted position slightly, but found that she didn’t have that much naughtiness in her. She was a good girl at heart, and she couldn’t bring herself to make more trouble when I’d done so much to help her. That was why she’d always come to me in college if she wanted to be a bad girl: I was the one who could find a way around all the inhibitions from her upbringing, and teach her to misbehave. She couldn’t bring herself to be naughty if she had a choice, whether she was thinking about college slut naughtiness, or bratty toddler naughtiness. She needed someone to push her. So she’d have to go to the bathroom, and try to get back to sleep afterwards. She stretched her legs, and felt a slight pressure on her thighs. One hand reached down to check what was restricting her movement, and felt the thick padding of a diaper under her pyjamas, steadily getting warm. Yesterday had been such a whirlwind of new sensations, she hadn’t even remembered if she’d gone to sleep wearing one. She knew now she was diapered, so she didn’t need to move. The diaper was already soaking up her pee, and she was only a little baby so it was all okay if she had an accident. A voice at the back of her mind tried to wonder if she should get changed before returning to sleep, but it quickly faded away as she found her thumb coming to rest in her mouth, and her eyes just wanted to close. She felt so warm, safe, and little now, and she knew that nothing could hurt her here.

As you wish 🙂 (although it looks like the next chapter is only a short one) A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 33: Relaxation “I’ll sort something. Now, get yourself cleaned up, and you can be a good little girl.” She did, and she was. I organised a little finger food; toast with some more of the sauces from earlier, and poured myself a new glass of wine. Lynn got wine too, as I figured that although she was mostly a minor, the wine was mostly not-alcohol. I thought about filling up a bottle for her, but decided if she wanted to be a bigger girl now, a coloured plastic cup that was at least shaped like a wine glass would be the best option. She sat beside me on the sofa, I asked if she was ready to be little again in case she wasn’t fully feeling it, and all the innocence returned. We spoke over the TV only to compliment my food, and to occasionally offer cryptic hints or respond to my speculation about what was going to happen to the members of Sparkling Thunder Presence next. It was a good way to wind down after a day filled with activity. This time, as much as I wanted to watch one more episode when it got to midnight, I had enough self control to hold back, and carried a giggling little girl up to bed. The covers weren’t on the bed yet, and I cursed myself for forgetting earlier. I was supposed to be the adult, and therefore the responsible one. Lynn didn’t seem to mind, though. She ended up making a tent out of the pile of sheets as I lifted them out, though she couldn’t decide if it was supposed to be a tent, a fort or a nest. It changed shape many times, with the sheets strung over the chair, desk, and bedposts. She used whatever toys came to hand for holding things down, and only pouted a little when she tried something that wasn’t heavy enough to stay in place. But slowly I had to take away her toys, putting the sheets onto the bed until her fort was only the duvet itself and the rug from the corner of the room. I paused a moment, and wondered if I should let her keep her little nook while we read. Another thought seemed like more fun. I carefully crept around behind her tent, and then lifted the whole thing with a giggling, squealing child inside. Thankfully she didn’t thrash around enough to make me drop it, but I could tell she had thought about it on some level. Once on the bed, I could hug her tightly through the cute patterned duvet, and roar like a big friendly monster for a few minutes before she stuck her head out and called for our book. Sometimes I’d been reading to Lynn in the evenings. Sometimes she would read the book herself, and sometimes she wanted to find that she couldn’t. When we finished one book last night, she’d been talking about the one she was super excited to read next. But today she seemed too young to know which one it was, so I picked the board book from this afternoon again, and suggested that she could read it herself this time. That would only take one night, and be able to start another one tomorrow. The last one of this visit, maybe, if Clark could stick to the promises he’d made her. We read the thin book together, though I only needed to help her when she came to a word with more than one syllable. She wanted to feel as little as she could tonight, and I was happy to oblige. With two pages left I gave her another brief tap on the nose, reminded her to fall asleep before I closed the book, then carried on reading to Lynn while my baby girl lay back and her eyes drifted closed.

Oooops… didn't realise I'd gone so long without posting here. Stressing over the need to find a new house (or new housemates now), and haven't been checking fun forums so often. (If there's anyone in the UK who wants to houseshare; or just recommend a town so that I might have a chance of being able to meet a friend for coffee occasionally; please let me know). Anyway… let's carry on with this story A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 32: Automatic “I think I might have another idea,” I countered, “You can go back to that later, if you want. But for now, would you like to change the suggestion a little? It’ll just take a few minutes, so would you like to start counting down for me?” She started counting right away, without even waiting for me to finish the question. I knew that was her consent; since I’d been very careful to make sure that she would only sink into trance after she’d decided that she wanted what I was offering. So I had just a few minutes to think about my wording while she counted down, and up, and down again. When she stopped I spoke for maybe two minutes about how relaxed she was, and how she was accepting my words completely. Then I asked her to partially awake, focusing on how much she wanted to feel my control, and asked her to count down again. Just one extra level of fractionating today, while I didn’t want her to be sitting too long in a wet diaper. “Okay, you’re nice and deep now,” I picked up once she reached the bottom of her countdown again, without as much of a preamble as I’d normally give, “I’m going to give you some simple suggestions to make you feel more comfortable, and to change some words I’ve already asked you to obey. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Just let yourself nod if it’s true, and feel the nod making it even easier to accept these words.” She nodded. I paused, making sure I had the suggestions lined up properly in my mind. “Now, you’re wearing diapers, and you’ve found that you enjoy the sense of embarrassment that can give you. And I’m not going to take that away, you can keep that for as long as you want to. I’m just going to change the words I told you to obey earlier, asking you to repeat and obey one of my commands. You know that one, don’t you? Yes, now imagine that command dissolving in your mind, and fading away. So you can remember what that command was, but you no longer need to obey it. You won’t need to tell yourself to obey any more. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Another nod. “Instead, you might feel something a little different. You see, when you go to take your diaper off, you will know that you have a choice. It’s entirely up to you if you want to wear another one or not, and if you’re an adult you can decide freely. You will know that you won’t wet yourself again if you’re not wearing a diaper, because that’s how you choose to be a complete adult. And you will also know that if you choose to wear a diaper, then you will be choosing to still feel a little helpless. The same things will happen when you’re a child, when I choose to put you in a diaper or not. Is that okay?” Again, she just nodded, and drank in the instructions without a word. “So if you choose to wear a diaper when you’re adult, you’ll find that the choice you’ve made slips easily from your mind so it can be a surprise later. And whether you’re an adult or a child, if you’re wearing a diaper you won’t need to ask to use the bathroom, and you won’t need to repeat that command to yourself any more. You will just find that when you need to pee, it will be so natural to let go and wet yourself. As natural as scratching an itch, or blinking, it will be something you do without even thinking about it. In fact, if you’re wearing a diaper then you will wet yourself every time you feel the slightest urge, and it will be so natural that you don’t even realise it’s happening until you’ve nearly finished. You can imagine that feeling, I’m sure, and that realisation. Is that what you want?” A nod, and a faint smile. She wasn’t thinking about my instructions in the way you normally think about things, but she was surely imagining what it would be like to follow those instructions, and she liked the images in her mind. “Good. So, if you wear a diaper, you will wet automatically. If you aren’t wearing a diaper but you are a child, then you will go back to how you acted earlier this week, having to ask permission before you can use the bathroom, and you will feel the same excitement and embarrassment And if you’re an adult and not diapered, then of course you will be your adult self, and able to make all your own decisions.” “Now, I’m going to ask you to wake up a little, and you will remember all the instructions I’ve given you. I’m going to ask you if those instructions are okay, and if you say yes then you’ll start counting down again, and you can forget parts of them if you think it would be more fun to be surprised the first time. But for now, just start to wake up, so you can tell me what you think of my ideas.” She woke and stretched, and gave a wicked grin. She might have called me a sadist, but with the kind of smile that told me she really wished I was willing to give her a spanking as well as a little game of shame. Then as soon as she’d agreed that she wanted to play, I counted her down again and set all the suggestions more deeply. Now, any time she was diapered, she would lose her bladder control. When she was getting changed as an adult she would know the consequences of choosing to be diapered, so she could make a clear decision, but if she put a diaper on then she would quickly put the nature of that decision to the back of her mind, to be more completely surprised the next time she needed to go. I brought her up again, and waited for her to finish stretching. “Like what you see?” she gave a little smirk, and I realised my eyes had been focused on her chest for a set of stretches that seemed to go on a little longer than usual. I hadn’t realised, and I could almost convince myself that I’d simply forgotten to shift my gaze after watching her breathing to gauge the depth of trance. “It’s okay, we’re both adults. No harm in looking, right?” “How are you feeling?” I answered with my usual question, “Those suggestions any better for you?” “I think… Does that mean I’ll still need to wear a diaper this evening, so I can get the most out of my little time at bedtime?” “You don’t have to,” I reminded her, “It’s entirely your choice. You won’t be repeating those words again, anyway. But if you choose to wear one for your little girl storytime later, you will find out that you needed it. If I decide you should be wearing one sometime in future, I might have suggestions for you to obey, so there’s a little variation and you never know what to expect. But any time you choose to wear one, no matter what age you’re currently feeling, you will find yourself experiencing the same loss of control.” Lynn just nodded. As she wasn’t actually in trance now, and quite capable of speaking, I guessed that meant she was a little embarrassed and couldn’t really speak. “See, you don’t have to worry about feeling naughty any more,” I tried to explain, “I’ve said it’s okay if you want to do that. But I know it’s a hard thing to ask for, so if you want to feel like that again, you can relive the experience any time just by… dressing appropriately.” I turned away at the end of the sentence, all the embarrassment I’d managed to avoid before quickly catching up with me. Maybe it was because it was the first time I’d talked about this properly with her while she was free to think about my words. “Thanks,” she smiled, “I really mean that. So any time I want to feel that helpless, that embarrassed, I can do it to myself. I’d have to go into your room I think, for baby powder and wipes and whatever is in all those bottles, but I guess that’s okay?” “Yeah, we’ll have to find a better place for that stuff at some point. Just know it’s there if you want to.” “Anyway, I should be getting dressed, right? A bit more obligatory grownup time, and then I can be little again. And thanks. I really can’t say it enough.” “Want me to top up the wine? I’m just going to find another bottle.” “You make it sound like an expedition to darkest Africa or something. Sure, and thanks again.” So I went to pick out another bottle; I probably wouldn’t have bothered if it was just me drinking, but for two it was worth making the trip to the farthest reaches of the utility room. When I returned, I wasn’t too surprised to find Lynn was already back in her seat; or that she was clearly wearing a diaper again. The pyjamas were thick enough to be decent, hugged her body quite tightly so they made it easier to tell than it would have been with her normal clothes. This time, I decided not to say anything. She might have let it slip her mind as I suggested, so she wouldn’t think it was anything notable for a while at least. Work was… well, about as interesting as work ever was. I quite enjoyed my job, and certainly appreciated being able to pay the bills in a way which didn’t put restrictions on when I would be free to do other things. I was doing my work, and Lynn was doing hers. We had occasional moments of small talk, and I probably drank a little more than I should on a work day, even if it was low-alcohol stuff. I noticed when the rhythm of Lynn’s typing slowed and stopped, and glanced sideways to see if she wanted my attention. Her blush was back as strong as ever, and she stayed frozen in place for a couple of seconds. In the circumstances, I could only guess that she’d just wet herself. It must have come as a surprise, but after a few moments to gather her thoughts she carried on typing. There was only the slightest movement of her lips to hint that she was thinking about saying something to me. Maybe she decided it would be better to wait until she reached a convenient stopping place in her work before speaking, or maybe she was too embarrassed to say much right now. Maybe she liked the feelings, helplessness and humiliation, but she felt that as an adult it was something she didn’t need to share. Either way, if she was happy then I didn’t want to intrude. I turned back to my work. “I think that’s enough,” she said. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, because I’d allowed myself to get caught up in my work. But when I looked at the clock I had to agree, I’d done as much work as I needed to, reached any immediate deadlines with a day or two to spare, and I felt I could relax a bit now. “Me too,” I put the laptop aside and stretched a little. “Anything you want to check out on TV, or time for a little playtime and a bedtime story? Or anything else you got in mind?” “We could try another episode of STP?” she suggested, “I want to at least get you onto the Brandlich Saga before I go home. I could be a little girl again, but maybe not so little this time. Just young enough to get completely caught up in the show, and to get the work thoughts out of my mind ready to sleep.” “Okay,” I said, “Does my little girl need changing first? I’m sure you’re not that little, are you?” “Umm… You can tell, can’t you?” “I can guess. New suggestions working like you expected, then? Embarrassed in a good way, or is there anything you’d like to change?” “Exactly as advertised,” she mumbled, “I thought while I was adult I might be able to hold it, to resist the suggestions, and it’d be like a challenge. Don’t know why I thought that, after all the things you made me do before. I noticed the diaper was feeling warmer, and wondered why. Oh yeah, it’s because I’m peeing, of course it feels warm. And then a second before the full realisation hits me. Can’t fight what you don’t notice, I guess. You’re an evil genius. In the fun way.” “So are you going to get changed before we start watching things, or are you not old enough to do it yourself?” “I’m not little yet!” she answered with an over-enthusiastic pout that might have made me think differently. “I’d better use the bathroom anyway, so you’ve got a few minutes to find which episode we were up to. Can you sort out some supper? I’m kind of peckish now, think I’ll want to be snacking soon. Sorely tempted to order pizza.”

Thanks for following 🙂 I love the feedback I'm getting on this one. A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 31: Adult “Are you starting to feel a bit more grown up now?” I asked, after a few more minutes. Lynn’s words had seemed a little more complex than they did when she was fully in little space, but she was still happy to innocently hold me. “Just a little bit.” “Would you like to… I don’t know which would be appropriate right now,” I found myself hesitating. I knew she’d find it easy to say yes to whatever I suggested, starting to become a habit after she’d been doing it nearly all day. If I asked her if she wanted to feel littler again, she could keep on enjoying her innocence. But if I asked if she wanted to grow up, she’d probably say yes and then be able to talk about the phone call earlier, if there was anything she needed to deal with. “I should be a big girl a bit,” she mumbled, a little reluctantly but already feeling mature enough to think about her responsibilities. “Okay then, would you like to grow up now?” Before I’d even finished the question, she was nodding, and then stretching like she’d just awoken from a deep sleep. By the time she’d stretched out all her joints, her body language was completely different, but I still couldn’t put my finger on it. She seemed more aware of herself now, more reserved. And a lot sexier too, just from the changes I couldn’t point to in her posture and expression. And a second kiss, at the same point near the back of my jaw but a lot less innocent. “Thank you.” “I thought you were a good girl?” I asked, “I don’t think a good girl should use her lips like that when I’m not your husband.” “I think you should have a little reward, for putting up with so much from me, and still wanting to help out.” “Getting to spend so much time with you is reward enough. You make an adorable toddler. And you compliment my cooking, which is always a plus.” “Was that all hypnotic suggestion, then? Because if your food’s as good as it seemed, I’d be surprised you don’t get a lot more praise for it.” I didn’t have anything to say, as she moved just a little away from me to take a more respectable position. “Thanks,” she started again, “Anyway, I should tell you about what Clark said. I think you got the gist of it, but he’s trying. Like, he knows this makes me happy, but he’s been told all the time he was growing up that something like this is weird, perverted, and the kind of thing that decent people should try to ban. He gets the kinky side of it, he can go that far, but just doesn’t understand how it can be not depraved.” “I can see where he’s coming from. I just wish he hadn’t needed to hurt you to figure that out. Think you can forgive him?” “I can understand it, because it’s still hard for me to accept that these feelings might be okay. Like, I’m doing it, and enjoying it, but I’m still not sure what it is. And I can understand, if we’re doing something that we don’t know what it is but he’s been brought up to believe it’s abhorrent… He got scared that seeing my pacifier, other people might figure it out. He panicked, told everybody too much because he was scared it’d get back to his boss if people found out. He was terrified people would think it was him that’s a freak.” “You’re not a–” “I know. And I think he kind of understands, even if he doesn’t know the words. But it wouldn’t stop a malicious rumour, would it? Maybe we just need to talk it over. And if he doesn’t want to be my ‘daddy’, he might not mind sharing that responsibility. As long as the naughty girl trying to seduce Daddy only comes out for him.” “I guess that’s a good thing, then. You’re ready to go home once he’s had time to cool down?” “A couple more days, if you don’t mind. So we can talk it out a few times before I’m living there again. And if a discussion gets too heated, we won’t be running into each other around the house while tempers are still frayed.” “Good plan. Maybe we can finish watching a certain TV show before you go, and there’s a colouring book we haven’t even opened yet.” Her squeal of delight wasn’t quite the same as when she was a child, but I could see that she was still excited at the prospect of more childish fun ahead. “Thank you,” she gave me another hug, and again I was very reluctant to remind her that wasn’t the right way for a good girl to touch someone. I wondered if she was testing me now. She knew I’d asked her questions she couldn’t remember on the first day. She knew she’d been quite forward on the second, and maybe she guessed that she’d admitted being interested in me for more than the casual fun we’d had in college. That could have made her feel more confident in a little flirting. As long as it didn’t go anywhere, I decided I wasn’t going to complain. “I’m not a good girl, though,” she giggled, “You told me at least once today that I’m supposed to be a naughty girl, and get excited about being a little bit naughty. You know, when…” she looked down, and tapped on the diaper she was still wearing. Hey pyjamas were tight enough that it was obvious. “Yeah. Was that okay? You said you wanted to, but I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go. Don’t let me keep you if you want to dash off and get changed into more appropriate attire.” “It’s surprisingly comfortable. Maybe I’ll keep it on a while. Really I’ve got to do another hour on one of my projects today, but maybe I’ll stay dressed up in cute pyjamas and… you know. So I’ve got a reminder about all the good parts of today.” So we ended up both sitting on the couch with our laptops. I had the TV play a selection of non-intrusive background music and its lava lamp effect, while we attempted variations on the theme of work. I broke out a bottle of wine, but the low-alcohol kind this time. * * * “Do those post-hypnotic suggestions all end completely when I start feeling adult again?” Lynn asked, around an hour later. “Because I got an urge to say… something… it’s quite hard to resist.” She put a hand over her mouth as if that might hide her embarrassment, or help her to avoid a brief moment of baby talk. “I don’t know,” my mind was suddenly racing, trying to think when I’d triggered her to confess something. “It should all go back to normal, unless there’s a specific reason for one of the ‘obey’ commands to carry on working. Your subconscious mind is usually pretty good at figuring when things should work, what you really want. I can take you into trance and clear it out if you prefer? But just for saying something, I’d say use your judgement. If you don’t mind the embarrassment, you could let yourself say a childish thing. It’s up to you. Do you want to resist it, or would you rather fail to resist it, or do you want me to take away that lingering urge?” I was still trying to guess which of the many times I’d told her to obey this afternoon might have stuck. There hadn’t been any designed to induce baby-talk that I could think of. And I was sure that all the suggestions would have ended when she grew up, unless I’d specifically said how long they should last for. Or, just maybe, if she really wanted it to stay. She hesitated, shook her head a little, then lifted the protective hand from her mouth far enough to answer. “N… No, I’ll let myself say it, and see if I can still resist the– Obey? It’s time to obey, feel super naughty and wet myself right now.” I realised it immediately; I’d told her to repeat that last suggestion for the rest of the evening. I’d expected it would wear off when she became an adult again, but it seemed that her subconscious mind didn’t interpret my words in the same way. That was another reason people are harder to program than computers: because every mind is different. Lynn’s hand jumped straight back over her mouth, and I didn’t know if I should be laughing or apologising. She looked so shocked, like she couldn’t believe she’d just said it, even after deciding to give in to the urge. Or maybe she was more surprised to find that she’d wet herself while feeling fully adult. I could only guess that would still work, because it I remembered my phrasing of the suggestion correctly, I’d told her to both repeat and obey that instruction as part of the same command. “Are you okay?” I asked, “Sorry, I should have been more careful with the instructions. I said that one would last for the rest of the evening, I didn’t think about you being adult again. I can make–” “I couldn’t help it,” she interrupted, “Just– Wow. A hell of a surprise, but damn, I’ve never felt so helpless. It feels good in a way. And I feel like… naughty, in a way that has nothing to do with being a little kid. Is that because the suggestion was to feel naughty, and that means something different when I’m an adult?” “I guess so,” I was thinking about that myself, but had already guessed that if we were going to talk about it, I’d need to think of some better euphemisms in order to distinguish between childish and adult meanings of ‘naughty’, among other things. “Should I tidy up those suggestions, or would you prefer to get changed first?” “I think… I don’t mind that much. While we’ve only got a few days left to explore this side of me, before a break of God knows how long. If I go back to being a little girl for a bedtime story, I think it’d be good if this was still there. Still working, I mean. I can’t believe I’m asking it, even. But it felt good, in a weird way I can’t explain, so… I mean, maybe repeating the words is a bit weird, so maybe we should skip that part next time. But while it’s started, I think it’s okay to keep on feeling that for the rest of the day. Even if that means it keeps on while I’m being a grown-up too, and realising how hard it is to resist it is getting me really excited.”

A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 30: Reality I concluded that I didn’t really understand The Studio. It seemed to be a TV show about a group of celebrities trying to produce and direct a TV show, and finding out that life behind the camera was harder than they’d expected. But I couldn’t understand how the scoring system worked, or what they stood to win, or whether they were actually producing the same show I was watching, which seemed a little it would be too highbrow a concept for a prime-time evening show. Still, I could get a few laughs out of the antics of the contestants, and it was a lot clearer than usual which of the actors had actual wit, and who was normally dependant on someone else to write their jokes for them. Lynn’s eyes were firmly fixed on the screen once dinner was dealt with. I took away the trays, to refrigerate leftovers for the next day’s lunch, and brought back a pack of towelettes to wipe away the few traces of sauce that she hadn’t been able to wipe off her own face. She ducked back like I was tickling her, but kept up the pleasant smile and tried to keep her eyes on the screen. I could tell from the blushes that she was enjoying the attention, even when her focus was on something else. I tried to understand the show a bit better. I think I could see why my friends were so enthusiastic about it, I was just late to the party and had to catch up with what the regular viewers already knew. A couple of minutes passed, and I was quite enjoying it when I saw Lynn raise an arm from the corner of my eye. She put her hand to her face and spoke distractedly, roughly repeating what I’d told her earlier without thinking about the meaning of the words: “Obey, feel little and naughty and wet now.” I smiled as I heard the distracted mumble. I’d told her to repeat the words and obey them again, but hadn’t been sure how it would work out. An audible gasp at the end of the instruction told me that the thrill of doing something naughty was still there. Her face was beet red as she lowered her arm, but she didn’t say anything else. She just kept her eyes fixed on the television, so I thought it was only fair to do the same. I didn’t want to interrupt her enjoyment until the program had ended. As the credits rolled, Lynn turned towards me, so I thought I’d let her go first. But whatever she wanted to say, it came out as a long, slow “Ummm…” so I decided I’d have to lead the conversation after all. “Are you okay, Princess?” “Umm…” “Well, I know you can’t be hungry so soon after dinner. You ate almost as much as me. And you enjoyed the show, right? Is there something else you want to watch?” She shook her head, so I nodded back. “Is something wrong? Something you need help with?” A little nod, and a big blush. “I’m not sure what else it could be. You said you’re a big girl really, so I don’t need to check your diaper, do I?” She looked down, and I knew I couldn’t torment her any longer. She always said that she loved feeling helpless, and a little humiliated, but I didn’t want to risk pushing it too far when she was experiencing something new. I gently put my hand on her diaper through the thick material of her pyjamas, and I could still feel the warmth of her pee through the swollen padding. “Oh,” I said, “It looks like you need changing. Don’t worry, that’s just what happens to little girls, isn’t it. You don’t need to be embarrassed, we know you can’t help it sometimes.” Before she could protest I picked her up again and carried her back up the stairs to my room. I didn’t know if anybody made a changing table big enough for an adult little girl, but until I could find out my bed would have to suffice. Lynn hid behind her plushies again, but quickly allowed herself to be distracted talking to them, or possibly making them talk to each other. She didn’t pay too much attention to what I was doing, maybe because it was easier for her to deal with her embarrassment that way. I knew I’d have to leave it until she was fully in her adult mind again to ask more about how she felt. As long as she enjoyed herself overall, that was the important thing. “Now,” I asked her, interposing my face between Char and Chel, “Are you–” “Noodle!” she giggled, and clumsily patted my forehead. “Rawr! Yep, I can be Little Noodle too. Now, are you going to need another diaper, do you think? Or have you had enough of this for one day? Do you think you’ll be able to hold it next time?” “I dunno,” she mumbled, “Ask Chel.” “I can try, but I don’t speak dinosaur. Maybe I can ask you an easier question? Would you like to have another diaper, and be treated like a little baby a bit longer?” She didn’t answer out loud, she couldn’t bring herself to stay it still. But her head bobbed a little, and I felt I could take that as a ‘yes’. “Don’t worry, I think that if you’re not old enough to talk then you’re certainly little enough to still need a little protection in case of accidents.” A little more movement, maybe an agreement. It didn’t take so long to put her in a diaper this time, now I had a little more practice. And as soon as I pulled her pyjama bottoms back up, she sprang up as her normal bubbly self. Her hair still wasn’t tied back after her bath, so I offered to try doing it for her. She nodded, and we returned to the lounge. The little girl was happy to play with her dolls while trying not to move her head too much, so I sat behind her on the couch, brushing her hair until it was all neat and tidy again. It seemed kind of appropriate then to put it up in bunches, rather than the swept-back style she usually preferred. When I’d finished I just sat there gently running my fingers through her hair, thinking that this was the best kind of experience I could imagine. A bit unusual, but simple and comfortable, and indulging in this shared fantasy of childhood didn’t hurt anyone. “Thank you,” Lynn whispered eventually, climbing up onto the sofa beside me. She hugged me close, and less energetically than most times earlier in the day. “Thank you lots.” “What are you thanking me for?” I asked, “It’s nothing special.” “Thank you for today. For this week. For everything you did for me. You made everything wonderful, and I feel so good.” She leaned closer, and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that? We hardly talked for ages, and then you did so much to make me happy.” “I just like seeing you smile. Thank you too, for asking me.”

Yeah… the diapers aren't as central to this story as many others. I wanted to build up to it slowly, so that I can introduce the idea to a reader who might not be immediately comfortable with the idea. I thought that making it one part of a wholesome regression experience might make it easier to swallow. Hope you're enjoying the story 🙂 A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 29: Chef Downstairs, I was wondering if I should find some short cartoons to keep her entertained while I cooked, but she said she wanted to watch and even with her mostly childlike behaviours, I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to play around too much in the kitchen. I lifted her up onto a high stool by the worktop (though her legs did most of the work) and told her to hold on tight so she didn’t fall. She did exactly what she was told, and watched engrossed as I lifted a large delftware bowl out of the bottom of the refrigerator. Lynn did reach out to dip her finger in the bowl’s contents as I set the lid to one side, but some subconscious impulse made her move slowly enough that I had plenty of time to say “No!” and give her a gentle slap on the back of the hand. “Don’t touch the meat before it’s cooked,” I cautioned, “It might give you a tummy ache.” Lynn nodded, and watched the marinade bowl but kept her hands to herself. I wondered why I hadn’t thought before to let her watch me cook; she certainly seemed to be interested. I wondered too if she’d remember much of this when she went back to being an adult, or if memories of her childhood experiences were distorted by simplifying her thoughts. I put the skillet on the hob and dropped in a large knob of butter, which started sizzling in just a couple of seconds. My hands moved quickly, finely chopping a half onion which probably needed using today. It went into the pan with a hiss, followed by a sprinkling of cracked black pepper, and I worked the spatula quickly to make sure every piece was cooked equally. “John says butter’s bad for you,” Lynn pointed out, “You should use olive oil instead.” “Butter’s better,” I answered, “Have you read the studies? Some doctors thought that it might be bad for you in the seventies, I think. And they told everybody, but because they’re doctors they don’t like guessing. And they got a lot of people to eat mostly the same things, except some of them just had butter and some just had vegetable oil, or olive oil, or sunflower oil. So then they can look at who’s healthiest and happiest after having different kinds of oil for years and years.” “Wow, that sounds like really loads of work!” and Lynn sounded really impressed that I could know so much again, like I knew any more than what I’d read from some group summarising research findings on Twitter. Shaping the facts into language that a little girl could understand was the hardest part; because while she might understand if I just told her about the study, I felt that the right language and tone would be better to help her retain that innocent curiosity. “I think it was. And because they wanted to know if eating butter when you’re little makes you fat when you’re really old, they had to get these people to keep eating different things for their whole lives. So they said fifty years ago that eating butter might be bad for you, and loads of people stopped eating it. And now those people are getting old, the doctors looked at them all and said maybe it doesn’t make a difference after all.” “Ohh, the doctors were wrong? Doctors should be cleverer!” “They are clever,” I said, as I lifted the second slotted-spoonful of pork chunks into the pan, greeted by some vigorous splatters of oil. “That’s why when they make a guess, they say it’s just a guess. And then they try it, and see if they’re right. If a doctor tells you something, you can be sure they already tried it to make sure it’s right. That’s what science is really, it’s always trying things to make sure they’re right. Even if it seems obvious.” “Yeah, that’s super clever!” she grinned, “Like when you try cooking, if it’s too salty then you put less in next time.” “Exactly,” I nodded, “You’re a really smart kid.” In the time it had taken to explain that, the meat was nearly all cooked, and transferred to a serving dish. Next I used the remaining butter in the pan to fry a couple of slices of bread, which I put on a big plate, and then my own personal addition to a traditional recipe, I made up a roux and then when it reached the right colour a ladle of the marinade to make a little pot of thick gravy. “Can you get down from there on your own?” I asked Lynn, as I contemplated the relative difficulty of carrying many things at once, or making two trips to the dining table. “Can I help?” she bounded excitedly across the kitchen and back, only just paying enough attention not to bump into me. I was going to say that everything was ready, but then I realised an extra pair of hands could be useful. “Sure. Can you get a plate for me and a plate for you out of the drawer, and a couple of spoons?” I left it to her to choose if she was going to use her little plastic plate or one of my regular dinner service. She seemed to have a pretty good idea what she was capable of, even if it didn’t map neatly onto some set of things a child might normally know at any particular age. “Oh!” she stopped, looking at the clock. “It’s The Studio today, can we watch telly while we eat?” Another couple of seconds while I looked at what we were having for dinner. Before I agreed, I had to reach for her nose again. “As long as you obey! You’re going to find you’re not quite as coordinated as usual, and you have to try really hard to eat properly, but this difficulty just reminds you how young and cute you are. And you will always remember to hold your plate over the table while you’re getting food, so you won’t spill any on the floor or on your clothes. And you will feel so proud of yourself for not making a mess. Is that okay?” She nodded, and then her brow furrowed in an exaggerated show of confusion. “I have to get food myself?” “I do this buffet style. So you can get yourself a piece of bread, and then you can choose what to put on it. But you’ve got to hold your plate over the tray while you do that, so nothing drips. And then hold your plate in your lap while you eat, so nothing drips between the plate and your mouth. Do you think you can do that like a good girl?” “Yeah. That’s a cool way to dinner, like super fancy.” Without a second thought she went to get the plates. The middle-sized plastic plate this time, not the tiny one. And she was smart enough to pick up one of the smaller trays as well, to put her plate on. I hadn’t even thought of that. When I arrived in the lounge a few minutes later, I put down a large tray containing all the pieces for an interesting evening meal. Lynn had moved her bean bag to the end of the coffee table, so that if I put the tray down there we could both reach it, and she’d even thought to clear a space. She had also managed to navigate the menus on the cable box, putting on the current flavour-of-the-month reality TV show. I didn’t know much about The Studio except the title, I wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to be, but most of the people I talked to in the real world seemed to find it engrossing television. Lynn was staring excitedly at the screen, but when she glanced down she seemed just as enthusiastic about my cooking. I’d done my best with the presentation for a change, spreading out slices of fried bread in a fan on the largest plate. Around the edges were a large bowl of pork pieces, a smaller bowl of fried onions and bell peppers, a small cheese board, a jug of gravy, and little bowls of a couple of different dips and pickles. “Oh wow, that looks so nice!” I could only assume that she really meant it. She always sounded enthusiastic and excited when she was feeling young, so it was hard to tell whether any particular thing was making her more happy than the experience of childhood as a whole. I supposed that was kind of the point; to feel good about everything indiscriminately, a few hours with no worry at all. The best compliment she could give me was that smile. Of course, she started by trying to load a single slice of bread with a bit of everything. It was amusing watching her try to fit it in her mouth, and she got a lot of sauce spread around her face. But as I’d commanded, she held the plate close enough that none of it ended up on the carpet or on her pyjamas. I enjoyed the meal just as much; somehow I’d got just the right mix of spices this time, or maybe it was sharing it with someone so appreciative that made me notice the flavours more. Either way, it was perfect.

I've not tried that one. I've found Amazon Polly pretty good to use; you can give it a text file (with SSML markup for pronunciation/tone/etc) and then come back a few minutes later to download the resulting mp3. It's especially a good choice if you want to do the "smart speaker misunderstands your instruction and hypnotises you instead" type plot, because it includes all the standard voices that are used for Alexa in different countries. I did write a script a while ago that I would have liked to see you do; a silly little story. But I couldn't figure out a way to make it work without speaking.

This makes me wonder why somebody would go to this much effort to condition you. Could lead to a sequel with Some Guy (neighbour, coworker, etc) coming round for some normal, contrived reason and then using the triggers; like he hired the mysterious voice to hypnotise you so that he could use it when he wants. Of course, that would be harder to make because you'd need to convince your bf or somebody to play the other role; and it would be harder to script without dialogue (unless you use more-realistic AI voices and overdub it… think I saw an ad a few months ago for a model that was supposed to shift an audio track to a different accent).

Yeah 🙂 Just hoping that I didn't make people wait too long before getting here. A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 28: Changes “I could do it if I want to,” Lynn attempted to pout while smiling, a half-hearted attempt to pretend that she was capable of finding her own pyjama bottoms, or even putting them on. “I just want to feel little and cute.” “Well, I’m sure this will help you feel little,” I smiled, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her through to my room, where I laid her on the bed. I’d got a thick fleece blanket laid out, and once lying down she wriggled against it, unselfconsciously enjoying the sensations of synthetic fur against her skin. I only took my eyes off her for a moment while I reached into the bottom drawer for a few things I’d bought just in case the little girl wanted to be a baby for a day. I stacked a couple of bottles and jars on my desk, where they would be in easy reach, but Lynn’s eyes went straight to my left hand. Eyes wide, and a deep blush colouring in her cheeks, it took her three attempts to stammer out an expression of surprise. “Diapers?” she finally managed, “For real? I’m not that little!” “I think you already proved that you can be,” I answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve just put the laundry in the machine, and I don’t want to be washing the bedding more than once in a day. So I think we need a little protection to avoid any little accidents until you’re ready to be big again.” “But I’m…” she started, and hesitated. “You like feeling little, don’t you?” I said, a little more sympathetic, “You like it when I treat you like a little baby. There’s nothing wrong with that, so just lie back and enjoy it.” She thought for a second and then nodded as best she could while lying on her back. I handed her Chel, who she hadn’t even noticed sitting on my pillow, and gently lifted her by the ankles to slide a diaper beneath her freshly cleaned bottom. “I don’t think it’ll fit me,” she mumbled. Behind the dinosaur’s fur, it took me a short while to work out what she’d actually said. “You’d be surprised,” I shrugged, “There are more than a few people who enjoy feeling like a little girl again, and I guess people who never really grew up because of some kind of disability. A few different kinds of people who’d appreciate grown-up size diapers with a cute print of pink and purple fuzzy unicorns. And anything that people want, there will be someone out there making it. You can order anything online these days. Even these,” I reached over to pop a pacifier into her mouth as an example, “They’re the right size for you as well, aren’t they? Perfect for my little girl.” I wasn’t sure how much of that she’d understood, or if I was using too many big words, but she didn’t need to know everything right now. She’d find my voice reassuring whatever I was talking about. “Thank you,” she mumbled, even less comprehensible with a pacifier in her mouth. She didn’t say a word as I pulled the diaper snug around her waist and fastened the tapes. She just used the little dinosaur to hide her blushes. Even in embarrassment, she was as cute as any baby I’d ever seen. “All done!” I patted her padded posterior, and then lifted her pyjama bottoms off the heater. “One little girl, all snuggly, warm, and dry.” Even the dinosaur wasn’t big enough to hide her smile this time, and I took both her hands to pull her to an upright position, and then to standing. I didn’t suggest anything more about her coordination, but it seemed the feeling of childhood was strong enough to be real for her, and she held onto my hand with both arms like she was worried she might fall down at any moment. “That’s a good girl,” I reached round with the other hand to ruffle her hair, “Now, how would you like to have some carne con vin e’alhos for dinner?” “Yeah!” One of the best things about looking after Lynn this week, I had no idea if it was true of other little girls like her, was that she could be excited and delighted about my cooking no matter what I decided to offer. “Oh, is that curry?” “Not really,” it surprised me a moment that she recognised the name, “There’s a curry named after it, though. It means ‘meat with wine and garlic’, but Portuguese soldiers staying in India years ago couldn’t find any wine they liked, so they started using different spices and made it a lot hotter instead. That’s where ‘vindaloo’ comes from, almost the same name but a completely different kind of food.” “Wow, you know everything!” “I know everything about nothing, and a little bit about all kinds of different things,” I answered as I normally did to that compliment. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, and sometimes it came from people less easily impressed than a toddler. And as always, I had to resist the urge to start singing the theme from a very old children’s cartoon that those words almost fitted into. I wondered if that meant this was actually an opportunity to share some of the pointless trivia that had piled up in the back of my mind. I normally had to avoid talking too much because I knew weird facts like that weren’t interesting to most people, but maybe with Lynn like this, she’d be enthralled by learning something new even if there wasn’t really a benefit to it. “Now,” I put that train of thought to the back of my mind for now, and continued: “Let’s get you some food.”

A Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 27: Splash With one hand already across her shoulders, it wasn’t too hard to stretch my other hand round and pick her up. She weighed a good deal more than the average toddler, but within what I could lift. I ignored the puddle on the bed sheets for now, and carried Lynn towards the bathroom. She was good enough not to wriggle as we went through the doors, so I could take her through feet-first and avoid any unnecessary collisions. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said with a smile. I just about managed to flick a towel off the rail with my fingertips, and put the little girl down on the middle of it. One hand was enough to set bathwater running, and on impulse I tipped in a large glug of some soapy concoction that promised to generate the bubbliest bath around. While the water was running, and mountains of suds quickly accumulating, I peeled off Lynn’s shorts and top. Wiping her off with the edge of the towel seemed sensible enough, so she wouldn’t get uncomfortable while we waited for the bath to fill. It was almost half ready when I realised that I was in a room with a naked young woman. I’d been so into the role of the devoted carer that I was almost thinking of her as a child now, and it took quite some time for my libido to make any attempt at seeing what was really in front of me. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, and tested the temperature of the water again. Just about body temperature, perfect for a little girl. I wondered if I should lift her into the bath, but she was already stepping up to the edge. So I compromised my taking her hand, giving her an arm to lean on as if she was just learning to step into the tub. She accepted gracefully, and slid down to her knees among the bubbles. When she was almost hidden under mounds of white, it was easy to forget her adult body again, and focus on getting my little girl clean and comfortable. I had other things to sort out first, though. I asked Lynn if she could be a good girl for a couple of minutes, turned the bathwater down to a trickle until it finished filling up, and hurried back to the bedroom. The soaked sheets and towel I threw into the laundry basket, trying not to drip on the carpet. The duvet was a bigger problem, but that could be left until later. Stuffed into a bin liner, it would be out of the way until I could organise dry cleaning, and there was still a spare one rolled up in the back of the closet because they’d been in a buy-two deal. My own pants went into the washing machine too, and I gave my legs a quick blast of soap and water in my en suite bathroom before donning an embroidered bathrobe for what modesty it provided. It was probably less than ten minutes since I’d left Lynn, and she barely registered my return. She was splashing vigorously with her menagerie of bath toys, and it seemed that Sparkling Nautilus was conducting a mid-ocean concert in the middle of a mountain of bubbles. For a second I wondered if I’d treated her to an excessive number of different toys, but I couldn’t think of a single one whose price wasn’t justified by the smiles it brought in her eyes. “Are you getting clean, Princess?” I asked, turning the taps off behind her with my free hand, “Or are you having too much fun here?” “I sorry, Daddy,” she giggled, “Did I peed on you?” “Yes, you did. But I know how to stop that happening again. It’s okay, all clean now, and the sheets are in the wash.” “Yay. I didn’t get Chel wet did I?” and for a moment it sounded like she might be more concerned about her plush companion than me. Which, to be honest, would be entirely fair given the difficulty of washing some of those things without the stuffing ending up out of shape. “Chel doesn’t like baths.” “Don’t worry, all the dinosaurs are fine. We just need to think about getting you clean too, before the water goes cold.” “I’m clean!” she said, extending an arm covered in bubbles, “I’m all white! Like a snowman. Or a snowgirl.” “That you are. But we need to make sure, so you help the Nautilus with its concert, and I’ll make sure you’re washed all over.” It probably wasn’t necessary. But it seemed somehow appropriate for her little accident to be followed by a bath, and in my mind the full childhood bath experience involved being washed all over by a responsible adult. Lynn certainly wasn’t complaining as I teased out the tangles in her hair and worked shampoo into her scalp. She even took her attention off the toys and lay back, purring appreciatively. Then she returned her attention to the Nautilus, a disused aircraft carrier which the STP had converted to a mobile stage and cruise ship. The toy version wasn’t quite to scale, having just enough space in the cabin for three frequently-used rooms, each of them just large enough to hold one doll. But it was real enough for a good little girl. As I washed her back she got carried away singing one of the iconic songs from the series, but I realised pretty quickly that she was just singing whatever words seemed to fit the tune, without any concern for meaning or authenticity. I wanted to sing along, but I know I wouldn’t be able to think of lyrics at the same pace. And I was way too self-conscious to sing in front of someone else anyway. I think I was pretty sure that was an advantage of childhood that was too often overlooked. “Up up up!” I tapped the base of her spine through the bubbles when she ran out of verses. She giggled again; easily amused by any quote from her favourite piece of childrens’ TV, no matter how obscure or tangentially relevant. She obediently rose to her knees, letting me soap her bottom and legs with my bright yellow sponge. Another inappropriate thought flashed across my mind, and was promptly suppressed. “Dive, dive, dive!” this time a gentle tap on her shoulders to urge her downwards, and she was sitting with a miniature aircraft carrier between her knees again. “May I take your arm, Miss?” I tried to do Yaxley Speer’s accent, and probably failed miserably. But I felt Lynn was laughing with me rather than at me, recognising my intent as she managed to answer through a mouth full of giggles: “Why certainly, but I shall need it back before midnight.” I soaped down one arm, and then the other, while she carefully passed her toys across to avoid them drowning in the terrible bathtub ocean. Then all that was left was dabbing suds on her cheeks and nose, and trying to avoid energetically thrown handfuls of bubbles that flew in every direction. When she started to splash me, I wagged a stern finger and said stop. Of course she was too excited to comply, and I was sure she was hoping that if she pushed back I might make her obey again. Splashing back made no difference at all, except for riotous giggles and even more splashing. Who could have known, little girls are immune to the effects of both water and bubbles when they’re already covered in them. At some point in the middle of the duel, I lost track of what was going on, and somehow ended up as a snow-shrouded sea monster threatening to sink the Nautilus. Then I found that while Lynn didn’t mind being splashed with warm water, she was very protective of the little people aboard her ship. So the monster was able to coerce her into lying back with her head on the edge of the tub, while I rinsed her hair through and gently rubbed the conditioner in. By then, my robe was soaked and clammy, and the water was starting to get cold. So I pulled the plug, and warned Lynn that she’d have to rescue the Presence quickly if they were going to escape the whirlpool. That got her moving, climbing out of the tub with the Nautilus clutched protectively to her chest. Before she actually stepped out, I grabbed a big cup and filled it with warm water to rinse off all the remaining bubbles, and then was satisfied that this little girl was both as clean and as giggly as I could realistically expect to get her. Once she was wrapped in a towel (and dancing like it was a ballgown) I rushed back to her room again. I selected some fleecy pyjamas with fur trim for her, and placed them on top of the heater in my room to warm slightly. I raced through towelling myself off again and slipped into a T-shirt (with obligatory humorous slogan) and shorts in two minutes flat. Then I could return to the bathroom with Lynn’s top just warm enough to bring a smile to her face as I guided her arms into the sleeves. She reached for the pants too, and seemed confused to find that I’d only brought half an outfit for her. “Not just yet, Princess,” I treated her to my best firm-but-caring grin, “I think just now, you’ve shown me that you aren’t quite old enough to dress yourself.” “I’m a big girl really,” she mumbled, drawing out the last word. Maybe she was thinking about what to say next, or maybe just trying to sound cute. If the latter, she hit the mark perfectly.